Tsavo East National Park (Kenya)

...drive through the gates of Tsavo National Park. Thrilling to see my first zebra, antelope and warthog that wasn't on the television or in a zoo; this was wildlife up close and personal and wild. But of course, we all wanted to see the big, dangerous sexy ones. The advantage in visiting during the dry season is that the guide - in our case, Peter - has a pretty good idea of where to find the animals, since water supply is restricted to a few waterholes ...
...As we drove out of Tsavo for the last time, a battered old lion, who sported but half a tail, ambled along the dirt road in front of us for ten minutes or so, then, having done his escort duty, peeled off into the grass leaving us to the long drive back to Malindi.

A day later, emboldened with vodka, we decided to risk a walk into Malindi. One of the local lads sprang to his feet as we left the hotel. I explained that we didn't want ... more

The sense of menace was clear and tangible. We were in a taxi completing the brief journey from Malindi's tiny airport to our hotel on the east coast of Kenya. As we looked out of the car windows as we passed through a couple of villages we were eyeballed by many curious locals. I turned to Sandra, my wife, and said, "I've never been anywhere like this, this is one dangerous place."

After flying from London to Nairobi - Kenya Airways seemed to have designated the whole aircraft as the smoking section - we were herded around Nairobi's not-quite-finished airport by around a dozen different airline staff, all of whom had a different idea of where our connecting flight would be leaving from. Eventually we were hustled through a hangar and ran, and I mean ran to the steps of an already revving Fokker Friendship. I enjoyed that bit really, felt like one of The Beatles. But enjoyment ceased quite rapidly when I realised the aircraft was a rather antiquated propeller-driven and probably-held-together-with-elastic-bands-and-cheap-glue kind of thing. Nervous flyer, my problem, I'll try not to mention it again.
The loose plan we had made was to spend a week in Malindi, on the beach, wandering around the town, followed by a 3 or 4 day safari at Tsavo, a couple of days back in Malindi and then home. There is a saying about best laid plans, isn't there?

The beach turned out to be a complete no-go area. During certain months, the ocean current dumps huge quantities of thick seaweed on the sand, making swimming perilous. As the knotted plants attract large numbers of angry and fearless flies, the beach is only really suitable for a brisk walk. And when the local beach touts latch on to you, you'll find that brisk is just not fast enough. These boys just do not take no for an answer. We like to think of ourselves as seasoned travellers, having been hassled in every continent bar Antarctica, in any number of languages, but these Kenyan lads must be the world champions. Believe me, it is not all good-natured - but we'll return to that later.

With hindsight I now realise that I should have taken more notice of the look given to me by one of the hotel staff at breakfast when I asked for a map of the town. The look said something like, "is this a brave man, or just a crazy one?" From the moment we left the hotel gates, we were descended upon and accompanied during the twenty minute walk into town, where things promptly got worse. I noticed a gang of several youths were following us, then a huge bear of a man came up close to me and said, "Are you lost, YES! I think you are lost! HAHAHA!" We ducked into a handy hotel, knocked back a couple of nerve-settling cold beers and organised a taxi back to the Scorpio Villas hotel.

After spending most of the week, poolside, munching toasted sandwiches, the occasional foray past the blokes with the big wooden clubs on hotel security duty produced similar results: am I going to get mugged today or maybe tomorrow?

At last it was safari time.

The only drawback to the safari trip was the 3AM alarm call, particularly after the Kenyan brandy had inured the senses to such an extent that I'd thought yet another large one at midnight was a splendid idea. I just knew that I would awake refreshed after a gut-load of booze and a couple of hours sleep. Well, I didn't. And our early breakfast seemed to be based on a new recipe: bacon lightly dipped in grease and eggs placed carefully in the middle of an oil slick. Not a good start.

After the rainy season, a lot of the dirt roads, if not actually washed away, present challenging driving conditions as the camber has been replaced by a fiendish geometric puzzle. Hence the journey is a long and tiring one, with occasional stops in the middle of nowhere at colossal hyper-markets filled wooden carvings of Kenyan creatures. I think we were all anxious to see some wildlife which had the benefit of a pulse.

It was thrilling to finally drive through the gates of Tsavo National Park. Thrilling to see my first zebra, antelope and warthog that wasn't on the television or in a zoo; this was wildlife up close and personal and wild. But of course, we all wanted to see the big, dangerous sexy ones. The advantage in visiting during the dry season is that the guide - in our case, Peter - has a pretty good idea of where to find the animals, since water supply is restricted to a few waterholes that the animals have to visit.

"So, you want to see elephants? We'll head for this waterhole where they will be come sundown." And they came, hordes of them presenting a stunning sight of power and charm - and, of course with baby elephants, comedy. The following evening, at Salt Lick Lodge, which is built around a waterhole, we sat in the bar in the gathering gloom and waited for the elephants. "Look, there's one," someone said, and as the rest followed, there were so many that we couldn't count them. The elephants are coming! The elephants are coming! I said to myself - or perhaps I said it quietly to Sandra. I may even have announced the fact in quite a loud voice, but the excitement was in the air for all of us. They clustered around the water just below us, and drank and sprayed and waded and washed - and this was why we had come to Africa.

There was small windowed concrete bunker set in the earth by the waterhole, accessed via a tunnel from the lodge. We were heading back to our room via the series of suspended walkways when Sandra stopped me. "What's that, down by the water?"

A lion. A solitary lion, big and dangerous - and we hadn't seen one yet. We hurried back to the basement feigning nonchalance,
speed-walked along the tunnel to the windows where we saw...yet another bloody antelope! You do get blasé very quickly, show me something else, something bigger and more exciting. Time for bed. Wild creatures being no respecters of the clock, we had to be up before dawn.

We really did see lions the following day. To be more exact, we heard them before we saw them: an almighty roar as we were heading for the safari bus. Peter took off quickly, as he had an idea of where they were heading. There are often incidents between lion and buffalo, although these mainly involve posturing as lions will rarely attack unless the odds are stacked heavily in their favour. Buffaloes are the meanest, most bad-tempered and dangerous beasts in Africa.
Half a dozen lionesses and a smattering of cubs were lazing by the waterhole. Lions are actually not very exciting to watch, as they spend around twenty hours a day doing nothing at all. We watched, though, as one by one the lionesses' heads popped up, aware of the approaching threat of a massive black buffalo loping towards them from the other side of the water. Peter said the buffalo would be quite prepared to attack the group, but what the buffalo had not seen was the large male who was concealed in long grass about 20 yards from the pride. But he had spotted the buffalo. Cameras at the ready people, time for main feature!

As the buffalo continued his long, lazy, but intimidating journey, the tension mounted, all the uncertainty of real-life drama, and we were right there in the thick of it. He was maybe twenty or thirty yards from the big male, when the lion just stood up and looked at the buffalo and yawned, perhaps just showing off his toothy weaponry. Buffalo took a sharp left turn and disappeared smartly into the trees. We were disappointed, I suppose, but in a way the overwhelming sense was one of relief; we had come a bit too close to the blood and guts reality of conflict in the wild.

Someone spotted a cheetah late that day. The guides communicate by radio, so each can tip-off the other of a possible sighting. We received the tip-off and Peter, thankfully forgetting the strict speed limits within the park, floored the accelerator as we raced against the setting sun. Cheetahs, wow! But would we make it? Red dust flew from the wheels, as we looked around and saw the excitement burning in each other's eyes. We got there, of course we got there, to see another stunning sight. Three cheetahs who, we felt, put up with us for a few moments before trotting away. Such grace and beauty that the TV could never capture, and a few tears of happiness from Sandra.

The abiding memory of Satao is of the noise. Staying for just one night in a tent within the camp got us close enough to back-to-nature as we would have wished to be. I laid in bed and heard the trumpeting of elephants. It was impossible not to go and look, although you are warned not to stray from the tent. As I sat outside, cupping my hand around my cigarette (well, I thought it might antagonise or attract an angry elephant or something), I watched as two young elephants, insistent on continuing their argument, encroached upon the camp. A guard stamped his feet and shone his torch into their eyes. Once he had their attention, he pointed the light away from their faces and into the distance. Amazingly they followed.

Baboons are harder to discourage. Now they have mastered the zip fastener on a tent, they have been known to enter and steal food, handbags or whatever else they can lay their hands on, and they are not frightened of women, so it is up to the man of the tent to, shout at them, or maybe throw stones.

The safari was wonderful. As we drove out of Tsavo for the last time, a battered old lion, who sported but half a tail, ambled along the dirt road in front of us for ten minutes or so, then, having done his escort duty, peeled off into the grass leaving us to the long drive back to Malindi.

A day later, emboldened with vodka, we decided to risk a walk into Malindi. One of the local lads sprang to his feet as we left the hotel. I explained that we didn't want to buy anything, didn't want an escort, just a quiet walk. But he wouldn't go away. Now, I know it is a hard life in Kenya, I know they have to scrap for every Kenyan shilling, but then hassle developed into intimidation, he told me that I might be lucky to leave Kenya alive, this followed by, all the more threateningly in a quiet and calm voice, the news that he was carrying a knife and I should be careful not to upset him. Poolside suddenly seemed so attractive.

Finally we trekked into Mombasa on a day-trip. Passing a huge pile of burning garbage, next to a sign saying "Keep Mombasa Tidy", we entered the city market.

"Hello, is this your wife sir?"

"Hello, yes this is my wife"

"Very nice, how much?"

"Yes she is, but I'm sorry, she's not for sale"

"You want some hash? We could do a deal, maybe you'd swap, yes?"

As I say to Sandra, on the rare occasions when we discuss this exchange, no I wasn't tempted. Not for a moment. I don't do drugs.

I can only heartily recommend the safari experience. Many of the Kenyan people we met were charming, friendly and helpful, but the sense of threat from others is unstinting and ever-present. Sadly, if we were to visit Kenya again, we would literally fly in for the safari, then fly out immediately for some hassle-free relaxation somewhere less intimidating. Not for nothing is Nairobi known as Nairobbery. 

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