©2002 Corbin Ball Associates

Wednesday 13 March 2002

Today had four flight segments and four separate van drives in the most visually packed day yet, albeit a tiring one for all the travel.

George met us a 6:30 for the early morning drive. A solitary cape buffalo, one of the most dangerous animals you can run across, ambled slowly by from about 30’ away. A small group of impala guarded by an alert male, 20 vevert monkeys,  a warthog, and a nomaque dove (the smallest of all the doves) were the sightings.

At breakfast we posed with and thanked Maureen the trainee server, and Tisa, the monkey sling-shotter for their great service.

George drove us to the dirt-gravel airstrip about 3 miles away with vulturine guinea fowl appearing on the way. The strip consisted of a cylindrical two-story turret type of building, two outhouses, and a seating bench with a thatched roof to provide shade.  Several trinket salesmen tried to sell us knives, arrows, spears and other items that would be impossible to check as air luggage, but spoke of their lives in general conversation as well.

Then for two 15-minute flight hops to other airstrips in a 6-passenger twin-engine plane with an additional 40-minute hop to Nairobi Wilson airport.

Kenya is an amazingly diverse an interesting place. Aside from the ribbon of green the is the river running through Samburu, the first 30 minutes of the flight was essentially dessert, reddish-pink soils and gray canopies of trees. Very few signs of life except for an occasional antelope or ostrich.

The last half of the way to Nairobi turned green and tillable, with a dense population of small, half-city block sized garden patches appearing, each with a small house and path – probably enough size for one family to grow enough to live on and sell for their other small needs.

The urban contrast of Nairobi appeared. Some large mansions with palatial grounds surrounded by high fences appeared. But also, shantytowns that must have housed hundreds of thousands of people. Blocks of corrugated roofing, with just enough spacing for a little light were seen. People milling about.

We landed at about 12:30pm at Wilson, with the same unsettling burned out shell of a crashed twin-engine aircraft at the edge of the tarmac, in the same place as last year.

Henrietta warmly greeted us and had all of the details taken care of for our next leg to Tanzania.  After checking our luggage, we were asked to walk a block down to the next building to turn in a travel form and get our passport stamped, and then walk the block back to the waiting room for our flight. Efficiency experts would have a field-day here.

Our 40-minute flight from Nairobi to Kilimanjaro airport was uneventful in the 42-passenger craft.  After a somewhat disorganized visa and passport check ($50US each), our guides from Leopard tours found us for the ride to the Serena Mountain Village lodge for lunch at about 2:30pm.

The sections of Tanzania we saw seems to be a richer than Kenya as evidenced by better roads, better dressed people and a wider variety of shops, not for the tourists, but for the people. Still it is one of the most amazing rides into a third-world country that I have taken. Teaming with brightly clothed people carrying everything and anything you could think of, often balanced on their heads. A bunch of 300 green bananas, a huge bushel of cloth, branches, logs, bundles of grass for feeding cattle, you name it and it is being carried along the roadside. Hand-drawn carts, donkey loads, market after market selling everything from fence poles to most types of tropical produce you could think of.

We had lunch at the Serena Mountain Village Lodge   -- about 5 miles south of Arusha and directly through the center of one of these markets. After of the bustle of the road, the lodge has beautiful grounds overlooking a lake – and nice quite break.

At the hotel, we met up with our driver, Ally, also from Leopard Tours, for the next leg to Lake Manyara. We barreled through Arusha, the halfway point between the northern and southern tip of Africa, a bustling, exhaust-fumed cacophony of humanity and out into the country side – beautiful green rolling hillsides. Past large cattle herds, past camel herds, past thousands of people of all ages walking along the road. Many of the school children smiled and waved.

After two hours, the giant riff valley came into view. The city at the bottom of the valley is called Mosquito Creek, and is lush with agricultural activity from the fertile valley soil. Several tractors were seen heading home as the end of the day near at about 5pm.

Lake Manyara

We wound our way up the giant 300-meter valley wall to the Serena Lake Manyara Lodge, perched at the crest of the top with a fabulous view of Lake Manyara. The entrance was an arch of hundreds of yellow weaverbirds making their nest in the trees above.

We checking into our room, into one of about 15 two-story, peaked roof cylinders, with for sleep units in each, all with spectacular views of the lake and valley, just in time for sunset.

After sharing a beer in the pool area overlooking the lake, we listened to a three-piece percussion native band consisting of a few pieces of tin for a high-hat, two hand made hand drums, and a marimba looking like it was made from left-over picket fence parts.  The band actually sounded pretty good until they played a “jambo” welcome song that had been driving Aaron crazy from hearing it the night before at Samburu. One of those inane songs such as “It’s a small world after all” that catches in you mind, plays over and over again, and drives you crazy.

Another buffet meal ended the day and off to bed for another big day.

Thursday 14 March 2002

I woke at dawn to go on a 45-minute nature walk while Aaron caught up on some extra sleep. My guide was a young man that called himself a “modern Maasai” – one that was educated and was embracing change. He went to tour guide school specializing in botany. We walked to the edge of the escarpment overlooking the lake 1000’ below while he pointed out a number of plants, many of which were used by the Maasai people for medicinal use -- indigestion, antiseptics, and even tetanus. He also pointed out the reason why many Maasai have their two lower teeth taken out is, in case of tetanus (lock jaw), caregivers would be able to feed the victim while their jaw was “locked.”

It was the guide’s feeling that the Maasai culture was doomed to history in the next 10 to 20 years as they become educated in “modern” ways and pointed out female circumcision as a reason why they should be.

I returned to the room just in time to roust Aaron out, shower, pack, and make it the restaurant to gulp down a quick breakfast before meeting Alli at 8:00am for the Lake Manyara game drive.

We went down the face of escarpment on a very steep road, passing several thick-trunked, long living baobob trees, to the Lake Manyara National Park entrance. It is primarily think jungle that then opens out to a hundreds of acres of clearing at the edge of the lake.

The place was teeming with wildlife including many baboon colonies, wart hogs, ground hornbills, blue monkeys, vervet monkeys, a few bachelor impala herds, white backed vultures, bushbuck antelope, mongoose, common zebra, common giraffe, a monitor lizard, European storks. In the distance, on the lake’s edge we saw cape buffalo, flamingos, and wildebeest. 

The two highlights were coming face to face with three elephants, one of which spun around in the middle of the road, facing us, raising its trunk, flapping its ears in quite a show of defiance.  We were about four safari vehicles back, but it looked for a minute like she wanted to tromp right over us.

The other sight was two tree lions that were seen climbing down from one tree, walking about a 100 meters to another tree. We watched for about 20 minutes as they lounged, one of them with its 4 legs like plumb bobs hanging from the limbs. It is said that the tree lions are no different genetically from regular lions – that they have adopted this habit to avoid the flies on the sparsely vegetated area (save for the trees) near the lake.

We left the park and  traveled back up the escarpment, past the lodge, on a winding dirt road about 90 km to the Ngorongoro crater. An amazing array of third world sites – huts, partially finished houses made of clay brick, hand-tilled crops, thousands of people walking and bicycling along the road.

Gibb’s Farm

We had the very good fortune to stop at the Gibb’s Farm  for lunch, a winding 2 miles uphill off the “main” road.  After one of the best meals we have had since being here, a serendipitous chance encounter occurred. A woman with an American accent entered the dining area urging the customers to try one of the desserts. Striking up a conversation, she asked us where we were from – Bellingham. Her eyes widened.

Elena Lomax-Jensen and her husband, and Dale Jensen, were the managers of this beautiful farm, lodge, and estate. They had moved from Bellingham 2.5 years ago and had lived for 9 years on N. Garden Street (the same as Aaron) less than half a mile from both Aaron and me.

She called her husband, Dale, and we had a very interesting conversation about life in Tanzania. After visiting Tanzania on safari, it truly was a life changing experience for them. They were offered the job (Mr. Gibb’s, the owner, lives in Bellingham as well).

When they moved to the farm, there was no electricity or running water in the valley. With their help, they have established both of these items, and also have Internet access (email) at the lodge.

It is with mixed feelings, however, that Dale looked at the modernization. He related that these are a simple, peaceful people (Swahili has no swear words). He expressed the fear that the onset of television would bring in a whole new world of consumerism and violence that could transform the life there eventually.

They come to Bellingham regularly and we will look forward to meeting with them again.

With this in mind, the rest of the ride was quite interesting. We passed a corrugated roof “shack” with satellite antennae on top of it. As we passed the other side, we were able to see that it was a bar – another step of modernization.

Other signs included an occasional motor scooter, private car, and even tractor.

People almost uniformly smiled and waved as we barreled past them on the way to the crater’s slope. The children also made a writing motion with their hands, asking for pens. Next trip I will bring a bag of them to give out.

We passed by the outside of the crater from the east, under the south side, and then climbed up the steep west side, the green and rainy slope. The clouds opened up as we passed through the park security gates, and up the red, muddy road to the rim.

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