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.

Lewa shares its boundaries with three Community Conservancies: Ngare Ndare, Il Negwesi and Laparua. The Masaai are comfortably in control of Ngare Ndare and Il Negwesi. Laparua is another matter. It is a multi-cultural Conservancy that includes nearly equal numbers of Masaai, Samburu, Turkana, Borana and Somali. Most of the time, community elders are proud of their multi-ethnic success and committed to smoothing over long-standing cultural flash points; but not always.

For over three years there have been good rains in northern Kenya. Herd sizes are way up. The jutting hips and scrawny ribs typical of pastoralist cattle are softened by layers of fat. Semi-nomadic families have rooted, confident that their livestock can find fodder nearby. No one is starving.

This is about to change.

Cattle are plentiful and looking good.

For those interested, we have posted a few new bird photos on the Bird gallery.

A Genet Cat in our kitchen.

And when Anne walked into the kitchen this morning there was a Genet Cat there to greet her.

By Jed Downs

Lying in bed and pondering the effects of jet lag, I heard a snort. Celestia, John’s sister, clearing her nose or throat I thought. Nope, next morning on the way to breakfast there were glossy piles of what looked like fresh cow patties. Indoor plumbing had saved me from my first way to die in Lewa: a wee hour’s encounter with a bull Cape Buffalo.

A cape buffalo sizing me up

Robin, Anne and Celestia were on a game drive, safe in the protective bubble of a Toyota Land Cruiser. They learned two things: they could avoid dying from the bite of a puff adder if the puff adder is already half ensconced in the belly of a two-meter long black spitting cobra and that a spitting cobra can’t bite or spit venom if its mouth is already stuffed with puff adder

Two meter black spitting cobra and its prey, an even more poisonous buff adder

Close up lunch

Simon, the owner of Timaflor, and Mary Siboe, CFO of Lewa Conservancy looking at the roses grown on the farm.

Actually, they probably came from Colombia. But if you were in Europe there is a good chance that they were grown in Kenya. Kenya exported 123,511 tons of flowers in 2012. Most of them were roses sent to Amsterdam to be wrapped and passed on to florists all over Europe. Flowers are a major industry here. Starting at about 11,000 tons in 1988, it has grown considerably.

Tons of flowers exported from Kenya 1988 – 2012.

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Well, after the last serious posting, I thought that I’d make things a bit more upbeat. Driving home from work yesterday we saw, perhaps, the littlest elephant we’ve seen yet.

And then this afternoon Elvis chose to grace us with his presence. This picture was taken from Anne’s desk. It was strange but Sophie, our human resources director, had her going away party today. She’s leaving for, hopefully, greener pastures. And Elvis after wandering around the quadrangle walked into just one office, Sophie’s. I guess he came to say goodbye.

Elvis wandering around.

Everyday is a wonder is some respect.

“That was a very bad week for NRT,” Tom Lalampaa sighed as he stood in my office doorway. “I am very glad it is over. Things will be better now. We’ve used up all our bad luck for the entire year in this one week.”

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The bad week began with the cattle massacre I wrote about in “This is Real Part I.” Several days later, Gabriel Nyausi, Tom Lalampaa’s right hand man, and Nelson, a NRT driver, were returning to the office after a day of meetings. It was dark. The cautious were already off the road, but Gabriel and Nelson wanted to get home. Nelson is a member of the Kenyan Defense Reserve (KDR); Gabriel is a Samburu. They don’t scare easily. Plus, they weren’t on the most dangerous stretch of the road. That distinction belongs to the main route between Seralipi and Wamba; 50 kms of unpaved, rutted, one and a half lane dirt track that winds through a gap in the mountains. It is an ambush waiting to happen.

In their official, dark green Land Cruiser, Nelson and Gabriel rounded a corner and came upon a group of men dressed in military jackets herding goats along the road. Thinking the men were fellow members of the KDR, Nelson stopped the car and rolled down his window. “Jambo” he called. The men darted into the bush and seconds later gun shots ricocheted off the NRT vehicle. Gabriel and Nelson flung themselves forward in their seats, Nelson not quite fast enough as a bullet came through the window, cut a 4 inch gash in the top of his scalp and embedded itself in the opposite door. Thinking he was hit, Gabriel patted his body frantically searching for blood. Fortunately, nothing. A minute later, Nelson recovered his composure and his crisis driving skills. He cranked the engine, grabbed the steering wheel and slammed his foot down on the accelerator. They escaped into the night. A kilometer later the two men switched seats so Nelson could tend to his wound. Gabriel and Nelson returned to Lewa and reported the incident. NRT security decided to respond.

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April 28, 2014. Night. The 330 cattle of KP 21 shifted nervously in their two make-shift bomas. It was dark, the type of impenetrable black where you can’t see a hand held six inches from your nose. The moon wouldn’t rise until 5:58 a.m. and even then it would be a mere sliver of light, the final gasp of a waning lunar cycle. The cattle should have been in Lewa, safe behind stout metal fences. Instead they were held up in Il Ngwesi, spending the night within a ring of acacia branches. There had been a miscommunication about foot and mouth disease vaccinations and the people needed to resolve the problem (me included) couldn’t be reached. Four herders patrolled the bomas’ perimeters armed with flashlights, walking sticks and rungu, a short club with a hard knob on one end. Two others slept nearby in bedrolls next to a small fire.

NRT cattle in an acacia thorn boma.

I flew back to Kenya yesterday after a month long visit to the US. Other than my transporting a Nora virus from one grandchild in Texas to me to two grandchildren in Minnesota, it was a great trip.

Anne took a walk today so I thought that I would show you what that means.

We decided to try and get photos of a Long Tailed Widowbird and a Hoopoe on the drive to the airstrip. We were successful.

Long Tailed Widowbird

Hoopoe

I know we have fallen behind, so be prepared for me to try to catch up.

Like good Anglo-Saxon explorers, we’ve decided to stake our flag on a little piece of land and name it after ourselves. It is a modest hill just five minutes from our house. Actually, it is a hill from only one direction. From the other direction it is merely a nub of gravel littered with a few ancient lava rocks at the edge of a broad plain. For the time being, though, we’re claiming it and christening it Mlima Knapp (Knapp Hill).

Mlima Knapp