By Marion Usselman

Pam and I arrived on August 4th for a twelve day visit to Lewa. She and I had not planned anything past actually getting here, since that part seemed daunting enough and we’re both perfectly capable of happily hanging out and going with the flow. Anne, being now the veteran of many visits by friends and family and also being Anne, had a substantial list of possible activities planned. One was a trip to “the Bead Market”.

I knew about the beaded products created by the local pastoral women and had ordered a bunch of coasters and Christmas tree ornaments from Anne last fall. And since I religiously read the Ten Centuries blog, I knew about the labor disputes in the spring and had seen plenty of pictures of the traditional Masaai and Samburu women. By the time of this outing, we had also experienced a number of different Kenyan marketplaces. We had driven though the Kenyan countryside buying fruits and potatoes from roadside stands…

Buying 24 mangos

Roadside potatoes

There are two types of travelers; those who plan and those who don’t. John and I are solidly in the second category. When we set off on a new adventure we tend to have a rough itinerary and places to stay. Beyond that we pack our bags using a “go anywhere, any time of year for any length of time with carry-on luggage only” packing list and head for the airport. I have a conscious policy of not setting expectations, preferring the surprise of discovery to the risk of being let down. John likes to live in the moment, trusts his ability to cope and happily accepts whatever comes his way. When we left for Rwanda last week to see the gorillas with our friends Chris and Doug Matson, it is fair to say that neither of us had thought much about the trip.

Kigali, capital of Rwanda

As we flew out of Nairobi I was vaguely nervous about Rwanda, my impression of the country having been set during the 1994 genocide where the Hutus brutally slaughtered a million Tutsis in 100 days of unfathomable violence. Given that level of devastation, how much progress was possible in 20 years? It turns out an amazing amount. Without commenting on whether Rwandan President Paul Kagame is a dictator using intimidation and death squads to stay in power or, as Bill Clinton described him, “one of the greatest leaders of our time,” Rwanda is transformed. Kigali tops the charts as one of the safest and cleanest African capitals. Littering is illegal (think Singapore), the infrastructure new and growing and if you ask anyone if they are Hutu or Tutsi they will respond “we are one.” We stayed overnight in Kigali in a sprawling red-brick hotel. The next day we visited the Genocide Memorial – a purposely blunt and disturbing reminder of the 1994 events — then set out for Rwanda’s Volcano National Park and the gorillas.

Entering the Kigali Genocide Memorial where 250,000 Tutsi are buried.

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.

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.