The Last Days - Our Kenya Swansong

I've been a ball of nerves for days. Applying for a Canadian visa is stressful, and if I'm lucky, I might be granted the Visa in 325 days. I'll miss seeing my newborn granddaughter Lanae while she's still crinkly and making newborns' mewling sounds. My grandchildren, Neil, Danny, Isla, and Miss Maeva, will be another year older, and I'll be another year wiser and far crinklier, how the tables have turned. Fortunately, Emily, my daughter-in-law and immigration officer, has offered to assist me.

The entire application, with all its paperwork, is now done online, and instead of becoming more straightforward and less complicated, it's become ridiculously onerous.

In case you don't know, South Africans are considered infamous bottom feeders regarding Visa applications, and we are infuriatingly bundled up with notoriously serpentine scoundrels with improper intent and motives.

---oOo---

I've just logged off Adobe, having completed this round of interrogations; with my fingers crossed, I hope I have all my facts straight. Here, no typos are tolerated. This feat calls for a coffee and a reboot of pleasant memories of Kenya and our final days exploring a diverse landscape, colourful villages, graceful ladies, and the friendliest children who inspire us to be kinder and appreciative of the immense opportunities and privileges we've been afforded.

Oh, let's put this minor inconvenience aside and travel.

We're back in Nairobi for a few nights, and all the maintenance work on the Honey Badger is complete. Our girl is ready to roll, and we're delighted to be back in her orbit; our bed beckons, and with a sigh of pleasure, we slip between our thick Indian cotton sheets. Butch takes up his book, and I resume watching my latest episode of the brilliant series Slow Horses. Tomorrow morning, we'll be hurkle-durkling.

Arriving at the campsite at Jungle Junction was a heartwarming reunion. Meeting our friends Maren and Mathias in their yellow submarine strengthened our bond forged in Uganda. They had no intention of leaving the warmth of Kenya for the chill of Germany, and we were overjoyed to be in their company once again.

Although our days were winding down, we were determined to make our last dinner a date night with friends we'd met in Kenya.

At six thirty sharp, our Uber arrived to whisk us off to Vik and Drishti's home, where we met their friends and neighbours. Dining out of doors on a balmy night was sublime, and as the day wound down leisurely, the first evening star appeared.

Sapphire ice blocks tinkled in our glasses; we rekindled our friendship with Vik, Drishti, and the enigmatic Jaspal, whom we'd met at Kembu campsite near Lake Nakuru.

There were times when the conversation rolled on, and I could bask euphorically in the normalness of the occasion. Beautifully manicured gardens surrounded me while the Creepy Crawly glug-glugged away as it vacuumed the crystal waters in the swimming pool.

We were in no rush. Our laughter and good cheer filled the spaces not occupied by the clucking trills and ribbits of frogs and slow woi-woiwoi of Night Jars. If one listened carefully, the gleeful whooping of a hyena could be heard because, in a noisy, bustling city like Nairobi, there are pockets of park-like serenity reminiscent of a golden age when the African bush spoke loudest.

Later, at the imposing gate, we said our sad goodbyes with the promise to stay in touch. The Askari saluted as our Uber driver made his U-turn, and we sped off to Karin.

Our Kenyan capers started on a magnificent estate in Eldoret, where we were eased into a Kenyan way of life in the outback. We were immersed and cocooned in mellow country living, family ties, and the sweetest hospitality and gracious living. We ended our three-month zig-zaggy journey, crisscrossing Kenya in Nairobi. Our final night out was wrapped in sophistication, elegance, and unpretentious refinement as you live La Dolce Vita.

Thank you, Vik and Drishti, for a terrific evening under the stars. Your table was a scrumptious gastronomic feast celebrating an inspiring, cosmopolitan group of friends. I still smile thinking back to that evening, your entertaining neighbour, and Jaspal with his witty wisecracks. You were all a balm to our souls.

---oOo---

Our destination was Zambia, with a quick rendezvous in Mwanza in Tanzania, on Lake Victoria.

Butch set the Garmin Overlander on an obscure border post, and we embarked on our next adventure. As our time in Kenya ended, we were determined to stretch it out as long as possible. We were in no rush to leave this beautiful country and were already looking forward to the next leg of our journey, filled with anticipation and excitement for the adventures that awaited us.

---oOo---

In our lowest gear with the airbrakes engaged, we snaked our way down from Lari to the Rift Valley and Naivasha below from the highlands north of Nairobi. No matter how precarious, every bend in the road is used commercially in Africa. Viewpoints are quickly sourced, and within a jiffy, informal stalls and lean-tos pop up where interesting Objet de' art, curios and local products are displayed for curious tourists who stop to take in the magnificent views and then zealously support the traders. 

The difference between the highlands and the lowlands is in the warm tropical temperatures experienced, the lush green foliage, humidity, and moderately cool evenings. The lowlands are dryer with more significant temperature fluctuations, and we could understand why woolly sheepskin hides were sold here.

Naivasha is a town in Nakuru County and 92.8 km northwest of Nairobi. It is situated on the shores of Lake Naivasha, from which it takes its name. The name Naivasha derives from the local Maasai meaning, "that which heaves", a common Maasai word for bodies of water immense enough to have wave action when windy or stormy. Naivasha arose as the British attempted to pronounce the Maasai name. Lake Naivasha means "Lake Lake", and Naivasha Town means "Lake Town".

A pit stop in Lari/Naivasha was on the cards, where we could enjoy a Kenyan brew (coffee) and peruse local artists at work.

Water is a commodity that humanity and the earth can't do without. It is essential to survival, and the sight of people having to cart water for miles from a central borehole is a stark reminder of the privilege we so often take for granted. It's a shared responsibility, yet we turn on our taps without even knowing where the source of our precious water is. In rural areas, a puddle in the road is a water source for a goat and a stream, perfect for a load of laundry. 

Our destination was the County of Narok. The main economic activities in the County include pastoralism, crop farming, tourism, and trade, among other small-scale activities. The famous Maasai Mara Game Reserve, featuring the Great Wildebeest Migration, is one of the "seven Wonders of the World" in the County. The County has a robust ecological system that residents depend on for agriculture, tourism, water, and many other benefits.

Key contributions are in the tourism sector through the Maasai Mara National Reserve and the agricultural industry through livestock farming.

The County produces virtually all of Kenya's barley and wheat, the second-largest producer of maise, and a major producer of beef and milk. In addition, Narok has a vibrant horticulture sector and a sugar-growing belt in the Mara region. The local Government has boosted agricultural and livestock farming because agriculture is the mainstay of most of the County's residents.

We would not be entering Mara but staying on the fringes where we could cycle freely yet enjoy the free-roaming wildlife in this conservancy area.

Our off-the-beaten-track campsite was the lovely, community-based Oseki Maasai Mara Camp, a few kilometres from the Park's main gate.

Anne, the owner, reduced our camping fee to $15pppn because we declined the full board package offered to guests.

We parked the Honey Badger in a field of wild grass and umbrella Acacia trees, where she looked perfectly at home. Although blanketed by the odd puffy cloud, the sun provided enough energy to charge our batteries in this wild camping site.

We set off on our bikes the following day to reconnoitre the landscape.

Because tourism is such a large part of the district's economy, and this area is a conservancy where farming and nature are historically intertwined, most eco-tourism is founded on natural resources; it is also understood that the local people are encouraged to interact with tourists, show them around and educate them about local customs and rural life.

Our approach to the local school, built overlooking the valley below, was an upward grind without our batteries. The rocky, uneven road made peddling a backbreaking endeavour. The battalion of schoolboys keeping an eye on our progress was humiliating. The conversation centred solely on our slow progress, age, and fitness.

Panting and out of breath, we stopped for a breather and were immediately engulfed by a tidal wave of running boys in bottle green who couldn't keep their curiosity at bay. They inspected us; my hairy arms were particularly fascinating, and soon, tiny fingers had my parched skin under scrutiny. They touched and fiddled with our bikes, asking impossibly technical questions I could not answer. After that, they'd discuss the merits of our gears, my bell, my brake cables, the electric components, my shocks and the application screen, which was currently kaput (we didn't have the batteries on).

 

Why would anyone have all this paraphernalia if you won't use it? They asked. All I could do was shrug my shoulders. Yes, we're idiots, I had to admit.

 

'Do you have a cell phone?' the cute ringleader asked.

"Will you take our picture?" he commanded. That was something I could do, and I immediately set to work.

 

After exhausting our knowledge of bikes and biking, the guard of honour waved us on our way. I am proud to mention we freewheeled down to the main road without incident.

 

The afternoon was spent in our hammocks, enjoying birdsong, a gentle breeze, and the odd grazing gazelle enjoying the new apple-green grasses.

---oOo---

While Butch negotiated our transit through the Park, I had an opportunity to chat with one of the ladies selling her beaded jewellery to tourists. She allowed me to take her portrait for a small fee.

Our transit was a direct, one-way ticket with no deviations. We were on a mission, unable to stop, but we found joy in the uninterrupted view of the landscape.

I am thrilled to report that the Mara landscape mirrors the breathtaking scenes we often see on Sir David Attenborough's BBC wildlife programmes—vast grassy plains adorned with ancient Acacia trees. I was so captivated that I couldn't resist capturing every tree we passed. I'm excited to share a few with you. I hope they bring back the same feelings of awe and wonder!

There are not enough words in the dictionary to capture the sheer beauty and grandeur of the Maasai Mara.

We were fortunate to see herds of wildebeest, zebra, gazelle, and... cattle. The easy coexistence of the Maasai, their large herds of cattle, goats, and sheep happily integrated into a wildlife park, is remarkable and questions the validity of our fenced parks and conservation areas. Respect for the future of our natural heritage is taken seriously in Kenya, where hunting is no longer permitted, and the great migrations continue unconstrained.

---oOo---

We're still in Narok County and will spend two nights at the Greenwood Safari Camp.

During the low season, owners and managers take holidays, and we were told that the owner was in Egypt and the manager was away on a break in Nairobi. Our arrangements were sketchy, and the second in command, Phillip was at sixes and sevens about the lack of services, uncertainty about the fee, and zero Wi-Fi. His inability to make executive decisions was highly frustrating.

To get away from it all, Butch and I explored the area after securing our Honey Badger from the mischievous monkeys and baboons who were ready to attack and raid the vehicle the minute our backs were turned.

Our exhausting cycle took us to a well-camouflaged luxury lodge in an Indigenous forest. The River camp is located on the bend of the Talek River, with amazing views of the Mara and the Talek River plains.

The manager and skeleton crew welcomed us, pulled up chairs, and made us sit and relax. A few minutes later, a waiter appeared with a silver tray and offered us a cold drink. Heavenly.

We were permitted to survey the premises before we were on our way. The Zebra Plains River camp is a magnificent lodge. These kind gestures, wherever we've unexpectedly arrived in Kenya, are a testament to the attention to detail, care and excellent service in the hospitality industry in East Africa.

With an extra boost of energy, we added kilometres to our cycle route and went to the park's gate instead of turning in at the campsite. When a husband responds with the code words, "Ask my wife!" I know the answer, no matter the question, is an emphatic NO! The lady selling her wares had no chance of making a sale.

Sadly, our stay at Greenwood Safari Camp went pear-shaped when we settled our account; the managers weren't present, the systems were down, and there was no receipt book when payment was made; the final straw was the discrepancy in our recollection of the quoted fee for camping, and Butch became impatient. To his credit, Phillip remained calm and unfazed, and we settled our bill. He insisted on posing with the payment fanned out in his hands for proof of payment.

---oOo---

We continued our journey of Narok County through the Naboisho Conservancy, where we were rewarded with a sighting of a large herd of Zebras while traversing very rocky roads, dongas, and muddy tracks. Slowing us down has advantages, and this time, we took the opportunity to enjoy our surroundings; Butch, of course, had to focus on the road, with occasional blinks, to enjoy the view.

The vistas were like a moonscape covered in a velvety green spread of new grass shoots, small settlements, and children herding their flocks of sheep, goats, and herds of cattle.

The Mara North Conservancy was much the same, but we did spot larger herds and Wildebeest grazing and fattening up for their migration.

Entering the Mara North Conservancy, we were immediately embraced by a sense of tranquillity. The unique coexistence of Maasai farmers, their livestock, and wildlife seemed to have a calming effect on us. We found ourselves slowing down, breathing slower and deeper, and somehow relaxing, and I could feel the tension in my shoulders ease and relax.

The muddy Kilgoris was a spectacular sight worthy of a short break. Our destination for the day was Kilgoris town, which is at the top of the plateau and overlooks the valley below.

After making a telephonic reservation with James, the owner of Enkereri Campsite, we stayed peacefully in one of his pastures for two nights in the wild. We had access to all the facilities and enjoyed hot showers in clean ablutions.

Every evening at sunset, his large herd of cattle would come traipsing home after grazing for a day.

The spectacular sunsets highlighted the valley below, casting the scene in an amber glow, which we enjoyed. Our braai fire cracked and spat up tiny sparks, which died before they hit the dirt. We sipped our sundowners, all toasty, zipped up in our duck-down puffer jackets as the chilly highland night settled in around us.

On our bikes, we went exploring and were delighted by the sight of a large herd of giraffes mingling with the locals, loping along without batting an eyelash.

Kilgoris is a vital livestock farming area where maise and beans are primarily cultivated.

---oOo---

On a cloudy day, the landscape's colours become more saturated, enhancing the red earth's colours. Pedestrians can easily carry their burdens and even pick up their pace. Cattle always take things in their stride and slow down to graze on a fine day, chomping the new grass until their bellies bulge.

The Honey Badger impatiently roars ahead, hardly gearing down as we hustle through Kuria, the farming district of Suria, the vibrant town of Isebania, picturesque Rabour, Komuge, over the new suspension bridge at Bukabwa to Musoma, where we make a pitstop after our uneventful border crossing back into Tanzania and decide to spend the night at Tembo Beach Hotel.

The Tembo Beach Hotel in Musoma is on a narrow spit of land jutting into Lake Victoria. Pictures on Tripadvisor show golden sunsets and colourful cocktails balanced on trays held aloft by elegant waiters, where holidaymakers are lounging on deck chairs on white sandy beaches protected by a row of palm trees. One could imagine you're on a tropical island.

What we faced was total devastation. There were no beaches, palm trees, or guests lazing the day away soaking up the sun on recliners. Lake Victoria's water level has risen by meters, and what once was a prestigious resort on the shores is now a floodland.

The friendly security officer permitted us to park on the gravel adjacent to an unfinished multi-storey complex, rooms, I assume. The ghostly figure of an elderly lady with a bucket and mop silently descended the last few steps, rounded the corner and vanished. She smiled, but her eyes glinted sadly as she swept past me on her way.

For a moment, I thought of water swirling around our ankles when we woke up the following day, but I brushed the ridiculous images aside and thought I'd better find the courage and go with the flow.

The restaurant gets good reviews on iOverlander, so we thought we'd try. We could stay for free for the night and understood we were wild camping.

The bartender was polishing glasses, and behind him, a reduced selection of drinks was displayed on shelves. Two ladies at the end of the counter were in deep conversation, enjoying a local beer while waves came crashing into the restaurant section of the room!

While thoughts of the Titanic came to mind, everyone seemed relatively unperturbed. The bored barkeeper even turned up the volume on his stereo, the music blending in perfect unison with the crashing waves. It was bizarre.

We ordered grilled chicken for dinner, which, I'm sure, was prepared elsewhere and delivered by motorbike. The perfectly grilled chicken arrived an hour later, garnished with a few slices of tomato, cucumber, a crisp lettuce leaf, and the ever-popular chips. It was not a bad dinner, all things considered. If anyone doubts the theory that Africa is splitting along the lines of the Rift Valley, there's proof of the tectonic plates shifting right here.

---oOo---

We did not stay, and the next day, we made our way to the excellent Fuku-Fuku campsite a few kilometres from the Ndabaka gate of the Grumeti Game Reserve.

Beneath a canopy of large indigenous trees, we parked the Honey Badger for the night. In my review on iOverlander, I expressed my delight in this shady, eco-friendly small campsite, which offers all the necessary conveniences—quite a rarity in Tanzania. The friendly manager soon had us settled in, and we were all set up in no time. I served our lunch outside beneath an Acacia tree. The afternoon was spent reading and enjoying the simplicity of our surroundings.  

We were back in tantalising Tanzania, different from Kenya yet similar. 

---oOo---

Our braai fire is crackling and smoke billows straight up into the windless evening; Butch has poured a sundowner, and a few feet away, waves are breaking onto the sharp black rocks; the last of the awkward Hadedas have taken off. "Faaaak", they cry. When will they ever learn? It will be a glorious sunset; I must end my Kenyan journey and put it to bed.

Kenya was a revelation, surpassing all my expectations. Its breathtaking landscapes, diverse wildlife, and vibrant people with a rich multiethnic history made it a unique experience. When asked about my favourite destination, I find it hard to choose, as I believe every country has its unique charm. Butch, however, has no hesitation in declaring Kenya as his top pick.

Travel is a journey of contrasts-from diverse topographies to exotic cuisines, from encounters with wildlife to visits to romantic destinations, from the vastness of the veld to the charm of villages and towns, from seaside hideaways to the vibrancy of colourful markets, and from exhilarating hikes to peaceful cycle routes. Each experience can be a rollercoaster of emotions, but the people we meet add the most vibrant colours to our travel palette.

In Kenya, I met family, like-minded friends I'll cherish, and strangers who did more than restore my faith in humanity. They reignited it. Their kindness and warmth were like a beacon of hope, guiding me through my journey and leaving a lasting impression on my heart and mind.