By Phil Curtis

That children are children everywhere, and seem to share innate characteristics that bond them to each other and make them endearing to adults, is one of the more gratifying things to emerge from our 10 days visiting Lewa and some of its surrounding communities. This trip has been a transformative experience in many respects – from the wildlife which Anne and John have already documented so well (although it’s hard to comprehend how close the animals are until you actually experience it, and there’s always something new for you who haven’t yet visited: the five-cheetah charge on a gazelle was a first), to the days spent with Maasai and Samburu warriors, the open-air market in Meru and the always breathtaking Lewa scenery – but a major highlight was our visit to the MCK N’tumbri School about 7-8 km outside the Lewa gates.

The school has 320 students in grades 1-8, and most of those in grades four and above are boarding students. In many respects, the differences between MCK N’tumbri School and an American primary/middle school couldn’t be more stark: dirt everywhere that there isn’t a building, classrooms that lack electricity, no computers anywhere, outdoor latrines for everyone, huge (50-60 student) classes, no choice for lunch (you get one of the Kenyan staples with meat twice a week and are happy for it), and make-shift instructional materials like learning English from old magazines – and everyone has a different magazine. But underneath the appearance of deprivation is an infectious spirit, enthusiasm, friendliness and curiosity that is both heartwarming and reason for optimism.

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Last Friday, Phil Curtis (Anne’s brother), his wife Leslie, stepdaughter Katie and I drove through Lewa to the West Gate and onto Borana, a privately owned conservancy abutting Lewa. Owned by the Dyer family since the ’20’s, the 32,000 acres are home to much the same wildlife as Lewa. Ranching, several lodges and private residences support Borana’s conservation activities.

Entering Borana we forded a river and wound our way over hills and through gullies, climbing around 1,000 feet, until we reached the Borana escarpment. For Lion King fans, we passed an enormous rock on the way up which was the inspiration for Pride Rock.

Pride Rock

4:05 p.m. I was running late. My brother, Phil, his new wife Leslie and stepdaughter Katie expected to be picked up in Leparua – a teeth-rattling 45 minute drive away – at 4:30. Leparua is the community Conservancy just north of Lewa and just outside the range of Safaricom’s cellphone towers; from a communication standpoint, it’s on the other side of the moon. I’d dropped Phil and company off at 10 a.m. to spend the day in the bush with Silas, our favorite Masaai warrior. It was the first time we’d left guests unattended outside the gate and I was a little nervous. Would they be flush and happy after a day of adventure or dusty, sweaty and irritated, waiting impatiently for me to retrieve them?

I accelerated into forth gear, broke the Lewa speed limit and flew along at nearly 30 mph. Half way there, as I entered the Leparua valley, the hairpin turns, loose gravel and large rocks forced me to downshift into second and slow to 10 mph least the car vibrate to pieces. I ignored a group of magnificent Kudu grazing on a hillside and arrived at the gate at exactly 4:45 p.m., only 15 minutes late and well within “Kenyan time.” I drove up the steep slope to Sila’s house expecting to see Phil, Leslie and Katie sitting in the shade drinking tea. The house was locked and curtains drawn. I took a folding chair out of the back of my car and sat down on the ledge wondering where everyone was.

Pixies appear beside me.