Who Says White Girls Can't Jump?

I have to catch you up on our last few days in Kenya. They were truly fantastic.

But first, quickly, a VERY happy 8th birthday to my favorite niece, Zoe. I miss you, short stack, and I'll see you very soon. I have some VERY fun presents for you!

And now, back to our show:

After we wrote last, we spent just the night in Nairobi. We ate, mistakenly, and expensively, at the American Southwestern restaurant called the "Spur". We had nachos and fajitas. Not good. Very bad. But we were, admittedly, too scared to leave the hotel at night. And, nachos sounded good. I'm sorry but Nairobi is a disaster, it's probably the armpit of Kenya. It smells like toxic fumes have engulfed the city and it is complete chaos; if any of you are ever going to safari in the Masai Mara and you have to go through Nairobi, don't spend any more time in Nairobi than you have to.

Oh, we forgot to mention the notorious "blister beetle" that one of our fellow guests fell victim to at Jao camp. Apparently, the blister beetle is a beetle with yellow or red marking that when it comes in contact with human skin (it just has to sit on you) will secrete some nasty toxin that will create a huge, red, itchy spot that actually grows in size but here's the kicker, if you touch the red spot and then touch another part of your body, that area too will be affected. Needless to say, poor Pam had these huge nasty red spots on both of her legs and everybody seemed to offer different advice as to how to cure the rash. I'm not sure how she'll explain this to her doctor back home...

Anyway, we woke up the next morning, and went for a short drive through the center of the city so that Sanjay could pick up some camera equipment that we forgot to pack. (Yeah - I can upload my pics for you!) While I waited in the car with the guide, two men came up to the car looking for jobs. Unemployment is a huge issue in the city. I asked about wages, and my guide said that less than $100 a month was a common wage for factory workers, while those in the tourism industry make about $200 a month. To send a single child to private school (and public schools are, apparently a nightmare) costs $100 a month, and the least expensive 1-room accommodation in the worst neighborhood in Nairobi costs $30/month, while a 1-room accommodation in a middle class neighborhood costs about $70 a month.

We caught our flight from a small airport on a small plane. Actually, it had a full 15 seats. Compared to the earlier flights between Botswana and Zambia - which were on 6-8 seat planes fully equipped with the interior - and probably engine - of a 1972 Chevy Nova. So, I was comfortable, not nauseous and grateful.

Once we arrived, we were picked up by our Masai guide, Timothy, and transported to the amazing Bateleur Camp, perhaps our favorite lodge of all. Immediately, we were led to a truly sumptuous meal created by our fabulous chef, Meshack. We love him. Our first meal started with a chile lime vegetable broth, followed by a grilled pork with Thai noodles with a side of Eggplant Salad. I actually loved the eggplant, so Meshack gave me the recipe:

Eggplant Salad
(For 50 - Do I have that many friends?)

• 15 medium size Japanese Eggplant, cut into large cubes and salted to drain the water from them
• Oil To fry them in
• 4 cups Balsamic Dressing

Drain the cubes for 30 minutes. Deep fry them for 1 minute in VERY hot oil to seal them. Put them in a roasting pan and finish cooking them. Toss them with dressing - refrigerate and serve.

I think it may have actually been the fact that the fact that the eggplant was grown in Meshack's garden, which he toured with us, and which was tended by the gardener Peter, with tremendous pride and TLC. We actually signed a guest book to tour the small garden:)

We ended that meal with a dessert of fresh pineapple spears with a cardamom caramel saucy. Fricking fantastic. Meshack was amazing.

Enough about food, I know what you've all been waiting to hear about, I just have two words for you: "Cheetah Kill". We witnessed a cheetah (named Honey) along with her three male cubs hunt and ambush a pack of Thompson's gazelle. We had front row seats to the action as our tracker called out the play by play. Once the cheetahs were in range (about 50 meters) to the gazelle, we saw Honey emerge from the tall grass at full speed and chase down one of the gazelle at the back of the herd. I can't even begin to describe to you how fast that cheetah moved. It looked like the gazelle were moving in slow motion as this lean, long blur quickly closed the gap between them. Honey then leaped onto the back of one of the tailing gazelle and chomped on to its neck. While she clung on to its neck, her three cubs ran to her and began to feast on the gazelle that was still slightly moving. (All of the squeamish can skip this paragraph now.)

The cubs started to pull at the tough hide of the gazelle for a few minutes and it finally came off and they all (including Honey) began to feast on the insides of the gazelle. All you could see was these four cheetah huddled closely over this carcass (which you couldn't really see except for the occasional shot of some internal organ as the cheetahs moved to choicer pieces of flesh) and the sounds of bone and flesh being crunched and chewed. Oh, and the cheetahs faces were covered in blood. It was disgusting but at the same time none of us could turn away. And these cats eat fast; apparently hyenas and lions will steal their kill away if they happen to see it.

As the cheetahs ate, a herd of wild buffalo were making their way in the direction of the feasting cats. One of the male buffalo spotted them and pointed its snout forward towards the kill. It started sniffing the air and our guide informed us that the buffalo have smelled the carcass and think that one of their own has been killed and they are not too happy about it. All of a sudden, a few of the buffalo started to walk directly to the cheetahs in an offensive posture. As the buffalo got to a few feet away from them, one of the male cubs got up, hunched his back (to make himself appear larger) and charged the encroaching bulls. The four bulls ran off in what looked like a very comical scene. Then, a larger herd of the buffalo (about twenty) charged the cheetahs and chased them off of the carcass. Some of the buffalo had a few young with them and they slowly sniffed the ground and walked directly to the carcass and began to sniff it intensely, as if to find out whether "Uncle Bob" had been eaten. The buffalo finally left and the cheetahs returned again to finish their meal.

At this time, two jackals appeared from the brush and watched the carcass. Jackals are fierce scavengers and are pretty bold; these two jackals walked right up to the kill while the cheetahs weren't paying attention and almost snagged a bit of meat when one of the cubs spotted it and immediately chased it away. It was funny to see this cheetah chasing this runt of a dog over and over again across the plain. Anyways, the cheetahs bellies began to bulge and we left them to their meal.

And now, back to the food. For dinner that night, we had stir fry steak and shrimp that Meshack cooked himself right in front of us. We chose our own sauces and ingredients. Yum. He followed it off with a spectacular chocolate pate with a passion fruit puree. I know, I know, enough with the Martha Stewart bullshit, but I wish I could convey to you just how beautifully this man crafted every meal.

The next morning Timothy brought us some jewelry that his wife had made, so we purchased some Masai gifts - if you're lucky, we might just have something for you. Then, we went on a fairly uneventful morning game drive - no major sightings, although I'll inventory everything we saw later on. What was exciting about the drive was learning about a million fascinating facts about the Masai from Timothy. I was, perhaps, more inquisitive than most, but I cannot describe just how transfixed I was learning about their culture and traditions. Here's what I learned:

• The Masai live in very small villages. Timothy's village has 80 people. Most of them are related or very close.
• They have no running water nor electricity. As we drove in, we saw Masai women bathing in the stream. Timothy said that electricity was actually not very interesting to them, but they'd very much like running water so that they don't have to drink from and bathe in the same water as the animals.
• They live, almost exclusively, on cow's milk mixed with cow's blood. They occasionally have meat, but almost never vegetables. Timothy was very clear that they DO NOT farm at all, and said that their cows are considered a blessing from God. If someone eats wild game instead of the cows sent from God, they are shunned by the community.
• Hunting is strictly illegal on the Masai Mara, but the Masai still hunt lions for sport, to prove their bravery. The most brave warrior during the hunt gets to keep the mane of the lion, which he'll wear in ceremonies. The second most brave, which Timothy was, is marked with matching knife wounds in both arms, and receives a headdress of ostrich feathers
• The men, at least, seem as much associate with their "age group" as they are with their families. They go through the rite of circumcision together around the age of 15, and seem bound together for life. As for the circumcision, it is performed by an elder with a knife, and if you flinch, you are known for life to be a coward, and are given only a common-bird feathered headdress. If you are brave, however, you receive a headdress made from the feathers of the most beautiful birds on the Mara. (By the way, Mara is the Masai, or Maa, word for "spotted", as the plains of the Masai Mara are speckled with Acacia trees.
• Female circumcision is still practiced, around the age of 13, although many in the community, including Timothy, are working to end the practice. He said that in many cases the girls themselves wanted to participate in the ritual, for the sake of tradition.
• They are polygamists. Men have anywhere from 1-3 wives, depending on how many dowries they can afford.
• They are Christian. But Timothy had never heard of Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. Their traditional religion was monotheistic as well, and Timothy says it simply is not that different, at its core, from Christianity.
• They're semi-nomadic, and Timothy's village has only been in its current location for about 4 months. They move around to find new food and water sources for their cattle.
• The cattle sleep in a sourt of atrium covered with dung within the confines of a fence that encircles the two rooms in the house, where the humans sleep.
• They don't use a calendar. Timothy did not even know what his birthday or precise age is, and the Masai do not celebrate birthdays. That said, we did hear the Masai sing a song of "Happy, Happy" to someone celebrating a birthday. They simply sang the word "happy" over and over again. Very fun.
• The primary jobs for women are jewelry making and beekeeping. Actually, our guide is very interested in setting up a website to sell the jewelry from the women in his village. We let him know that we had some friends in the States who might be willing to help him set up a quick ebay site to sell the jewelry - let us know if anyone's interested in helping out our Masai friend!

After our morning of Masai inquisition, we sat down again for one of Meshack's delicacies. He fed us:

Moroccan Bisteeya
Serves 6

2 cups butter, melted into Ghee
1 cup onion, chopped finely
8 diced chicken thighs, chopped or shredded finely + 1 cup chicken stock
1/2 cup dried apricots, finely chopped
1/2 cup blanched almonds, chopped
2 teaspoons of ground cinnamon + 1 teaspoon extra
3 teaspoons toasted and ground cumin
1 teaspoon turmeric
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 cup Greek Yoghurt
4 eggs, lightly beaten
1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped and 1/2 cup chopped coriander leaves
10 large sheets phyllo pastry
Salt & Ground black pepper
3 tablespoons icing sugar and the extra teaspoon cinnamon

1. Preheat the oven to 180C. Heat 25g of the butter in a pan; gently fry the onion until pale and golden. Add the chicken, chicken stock and all spices. Cook gently until done.
2. Stir in the apricots and cook for a further 2 minutes. Remove from the head and cool. Shred the chicken (we had it chopped, though, and I prefer that, I think). Season to taste with salt and pepper, then add parsley and coriander. Beat eggs and yogurt together and add.
3. Melt the remaining butter. Unroll the phyllo pastry. Keep the pastry sheets covered with a clean, damp dish towel to prevent drying.
4. Line the bowl with 3 layers of the pastry sheets. Spoon in the chicken mixture. Sprinkle with almonds, 1 teaspoon icing sugar and cinnamon. Fold up edges of bottom sheets in a rough pattern (to enclose the chicken in a pastry puff). Brush with butter.
5. Crumple the remaining pieces and place them on the top of each pie, then brush over any remaining melted butter. Bake the pie for about 20 minutes, until the pastry is golden brown and crisp. Serve pie hot or cold, dusted with the remaining cinnamon and sugar.

The recipe isn't exactly clear on a couple of things - he made individual pies, and I think this is for one larger pie, so you might have to experiment a little - but it tastes FANTASTIC. Again, it's probably best with herbs from Meshak's garden. When he presented his recipes to us, they were rolled with a sprig of fresh rosemary, and he signed them - "Thank you for coming - Chef Meshack".

That night, we went on a game drive again. Timothy told us we were going for a night drive, and drove us around to the Mara River. One thing about the Masai Mara is that it can get cold very quickly. The weather is extremely unpredictable; within a matter of minutes, it can go from rain to really hot to really cold and windy. Needless to say, when the sun went down, it was really cold and windy especially when driving around in an open Range Rover. Also, my allergies were killing me. There is so much pollen in the air that I could not stop sneezing, thank God for Stacey's packing every medicine known to man because the Benadryl sure did the trick.

So as we went on our drive, we got to a spot with firelit torches behind a thick set of trees. We came to a clearing and saw a tent setup with dining tables, the chef at a huge barbecue rack, and even a bar setup; all lit by torches. It was awesome - and a complete surprise! After getting a few cocktails, I heard what sounded like a hippo call very close by (hippos come out of the water and feed at night and you don't want to be anywhere near a hippo). The hippo sound came closer and closer and then all of a sudden we heard blood-curdling screams all around us which scared the crap out of all of us. Then a group of about 15 Masai warriors appeared and started to sing and dance for us. (Actually, if you must know, I was in the zip-up tented port-o-let just pulling down my pants and nearly wet myself as I thought I heard a hippo closing in on me. I quickly pulled up my pants to see what the hell was going on.)

After a few circle dances and songs, the Masai began a traditional jumping competition in which each Masai warrior jumps to see who can jump the highest and win the respect of the other warriors. At this point, one of the warriors grabbed Stacey by the hand and led her into the jumping competition. Stacey immediately leaped into the air, graceful and majestic. It was like watching a cheetah bound through the Mara, or like Michael Jordan performing one of his mind-blowing, tongue sticking-out, dunks. Everyone at the camp (including the warriors) were awestruck by what they were witnessing. (I admit that I didn't think it could happen but white girls can definitely jump.) Being the vigilant photographer that I am, I caught a picture of this impressive display of agility and athleticism, in mid-leap mind you. (I will be selling a limited number of these prints in case you are interested in a poster-sized version of this once in a lifetime occurrence.) After her solo, each warrior grabbed one of us and led us in the dance.

After a fabulous dinner of barbecued chicken, ribs, lamb and a dessert of fried bananas with caramel sauce, we departed back to our lodge accompanied by an armed warrior. (Apparently, a lion had been wandering through our camp and this was a safety precaution.) We saw a couple of hippos with the spotlight but nothing else too terribly interesting.

The next morning, we went for an early game drive leaving at 6:30 in the morning. The roads out were especially wet and muddy today. After driving around for about an hour, our third passenger spotted something sitting in a tree. It turned out to be the elusive Mara leopard. (It is extremely rare to see the leopard out here.) We followed it around as it sneaked through the tall grass. It was extremely wild and did not want to be photgraphed at all. It finally leaped across the road and disappeared.

We drove further and, due to a rainy season that's lasted much longer than usual, we were splipping and sliding all over the road. It was actually kind of fun. Until we almost missed our flight out to Tanzania. We slid off the road into a ditch, and Timothy politely asked us to get out of the Land Rover and onto the leopard, cheetah, lion and hyena-filled Mara. As it turns out the animals were not to fear. The mud, however, was another story. We literally sunk about 6 inches into a thick, black muck that splashed onto our departure clothes as we walked away from our vehicle. Fortunately, we both avoided another pant count deduction. But barely. After another car (gari, in Swahili) came and pulled Timothy out, we returned to the lodge, caught a quick breakfast, and were off to the air strip for our departure.

Before we left, Timothy gave us each a very special bracelet that his wife had made for us. As we boarded our flight, and continued our takeoff, he waved and blew us kisses. I knew our safari was ending, and I almost cried.

Despite predicted rains everywhere in our path, the sun has shone brightly on every step of our journey so far - here's hoping the same is true in Tanzania.

PS: Here's a summary of what we saw on the Masai Mara -

• Mammals: Thompson Gazelle, Grant's Gazelle, Giraffe, Topi Antelope, Warthogs, Cheetah, Silverback Jackal, Cape Buffalo, Waterbuck, Eland, Heartbeast Antelope, Spotted Hyena, Elephant, Olive Baboon, Hippo, Crocodile, Zebra, Leopard

Birds: Ostrich, Cattle Egret, Black Stork, Egyptian Goose, Secratarybird, African Whitebacked Vulture, Tawny Eagle, Longcrested Eagle, African Crowned Eagle, Black-chested Snake Eagle, Dark Chanting Goshawk, Red-Necked Spurfowl, Gray Crowned Crane, Black-bellied Bustard, Speckled Mousebird, Cinnamon-chested Bee-eater, Lilac-breasted Roller, Southern Ground Hornbill, Crowned Hornbill, Yellow-Throated Longclaw, Red-faced Cistacola, Gray-backed Fiscal, Common Fiscal, Superb Starling, Red-Billed Oxpecker, Fan-tailed Widowbird, Fin-tailed Whydah, African Citril, Cinnamon-breasted Bunting

Safe & Sound

Just a quick check-in to let you know we've made it to Tanzania. We're going out for a drink - so we'll catch up tomorrow! I've got so much to tell you about our time with the Masai . . .

The Unbearable Whiteness of Being

Boy am I white.

We've reached our hotel in Nairobi, Kenya. Between the airport and here, there were many, many people walking and a ton of traffic on our nearly 45-minute drive. But I saw only one other white person. One. I know, I'm in Africa, but it still feels strange. I'm just not used to so blatantly sticking out in the crowd.

The city is chaos. While everywhere else we visited has had a beautiful scent, this place wreaks of environmental toxins - especially rubber and petroleum.

As for the scenery, imagine a dense urban area built entirely without a city planning department. A tire factory stands next to a furniture store stands next to a pasture filled with cows stands next to small shanties built as homes stands next to a park stands next to people lying on the sidewalk. It's incredible.

We're just here on a layover, so there's not much to tell. We don't plan to leave our hotel. This is the only place we'll visit where there's an active, applicable State Department warning, so we're not taking any chances. (Aren't you proud, Mom?)

We also had a layover last night in Johannesburg at the Intercontinental Airport Sun, a super nice hotel where I satiated my craving for familiar flavors with a room service meal of pesto pasta.

To be honest, I miss control over my own food supply. I like to be able to choose what I'm going to eat and when - it makes me feel entirely out of control. It also makes me shove whatever I can down my gullet whenever I can (like the chutney potato chips we had at the airport this morning with a banana muffin in the South Africa Airways lounge) to avoid the potential of being hungry later and having either nothing or something that tastes bland, boring or yucky.

We're off to the hotel restaurant now, and we leave first thing in the morning. Hopefully our Botswana and Zambia posts keep you interested for a while, as we're headed tomorrow to Bateleur Camp. If we can't reach you from there, we'll catch up once we find an internet cafe in Tanzania.

Don't worry, Mom, we're safe!

Reclaiming My Voice

So, as expected, no internet at Jao Camp. Thank God. We awoke at 5:30 every day to begin our game drives, and our night game drive, which was followed by supper and drinks around the campfire, didn’t end until 8 or 9pm – so sleep has been at a premium. I did, however, get just enough rest to reclaim my voice, which was missing for nearly 5 full days.

That said – what a beautiful place. If Cape Town smelled of the warm sea, and Zambia smelled of clean, pure air, Jao smelled like earth – in some places mud, and in others hot, dry sand.

The architecture of the camp was beautiful, the Okavango Delta was pristine, though dry for this time of the year. And the animals were incredible. I’ll give you a full inventory later, but suffice it to say that we saw over 70 species there, thanks in full to our insane guide, David. It was like being with Mowgli out of the Jungle Book or something. Every track, every scent, every bird’s call, every signal, every plant, every tree, every termite mound – you get the point – he knew it all as if he was one of the animals that lived in this majestic place and was the translator for them all. Simply fascinating. (One interesting fact: If antelope know a predator is nearby, they’ll stick up their tails to show the white underneath, which silently warns other animals nearby that there’s danger afoot. It also showed David where to look for the lions.)

In one instance, he saw three sets of leopard tracks pointing in opposite directions, and knew immediately (and, it turns out, correctly) that a female leopard (nicknamed Beauty) had hidden her kill in one thicket, and had left it there while she went to fetch water from a nearby watering hole. He drove our Land Rover straight to the cat – and we then followed her back to the thicket he had predicted where she feasted on an antelope she’d hunted two nights before. The thicket was abuzz with the sound of swarming flies and crunching antelope bones and smelled strongly of rotting flesh. Nasty – but very interesting, nonetheless.

Though I don’t believe we forged any lasting relationships at the camp other than David, we did meet the managers – two white South African couples – Chris & Tara and Freddy & Marianne. Marianne’s family was also there. Her parents were chicken farmers from Cape Town, and her 33-year-old brother, Francois, was there as well. While I’m not certain what he does for a living, I do know that he was scrumptious, had a beautiful accent, and could identify the stars and constellations and, from those, could point to true north. (For those of you men reading along, that last quality is very masculine and incredibly sexy . . . ) Also at the camp were a group of half a dozen Germans who never spoke to us, and two other American couples – one set honeymooners from Manhattan, and the others, Pam and Bernard, were from San Francisco (literally about ½ a mile from Sanjay).

At camp, we were fed incessantly. There was breakfast at 6, tea around 9, brunch at 10:30, high tea at 4, sundowners at 6:30 and dinner at 8ish. For as much as they fed us, there was nothing very good, nor very local in flavor. We did have cake at 4pm everyday with tea, so I suppose I can’t complain too much. On our last evening, we did have one pretty yummy local dish – seswaa & pap – which is a chopped marinated beef with a tomato onion relish served with a thick maize porridge that’s traditionally used as a hand-held pocket with which to eat the meat. Sanjay’s favorite was the dessert at last night’s meal, a date bread pudding, which was pretty nice. While we ate outside under a sky full of more stars than I believed possible, the staff serenaded us with local music and dance. That, I did love.

One thing bothered me about this particular camp. The managers, as I said, were whites from South Africa, while the staff were blacks from Botswana. Again, segregation. David, who I introduced before as our guide, works at the camp for three months at a time, then returns to his family of 4 children for 21 days. It is, for him, quite a sacrifice to provide a better life for them. He is looking for a small business loan so that he can start up his own business in transportation or tourism – but he has no collateral.

Which brings me to something that has been stuck in my brain since I arrived: how can I – or anyone – really help? So far, it seems like the most common American responses in places like Africa have been imperialism and/or proselytism. Make them American or make them Christians – much as we did with our own Native Americans. It seems simplistic, shortsighted and incredibly arrogant. What seems preferable are programs that educate and empower the people of Africa to build upon their own heritage and define their own destiny. For instance, loans for local entrepreneurs to build businesses in their own communities. And schools that educate people on all of the options – political, social, cultural, religious, etc. – as well as creative thinking skills so that Africans can thoughtfully decide what they want to become.

It’s interesting. One night at the dinner table, we were discussing Oprah’s school for girls in Johannesburg. (This keeps coming up . . . ) In any case, many local people seem upset that she spent, I believe, $40 million, to educate 152 girls; the argument is that she could have spent less per student and provided schooling for many times that number of children. The world really does suffer from an epidemic of small thinking. I applaud Winfrey’s choice. In order to build a future for this continent, Africa’s children must be exposed to every potential idea. Their educations cannot be limited – they must be broad and intense. It will take exposure to every possibility, and the ability to imagine the impossible – to build the Africa in which these girls will want to raise their own children.

Enough of my musings, though I’m sure much more is to come once I reach Arusha . . .

Other than the staff, at Jao we had no interaction with the local people, flavors or culture – only the animals and their habitats which did, in fact, make for a fascinating 4 days in and of themselves. Want to know what species we saw? Let’s do a quick run-through:

Mammals: Bushbuck, Giraffe, Impala, Kudu, Red Lechwe, Reedbuck, Steenbok, Tsessebe, Honey Badger, Wildebeest, Zebra, Cape Buffalo, Elephants (we saw one taking a mud bath, one at sunset, and a breeding herd with tiny babies!), Hippos, Banded Mongoose, Slender Mongoose, Chacma Baboons, Vervet Monkies, Warthogs (My favorite after the elephants and hippos), Side-Striped Jackals, a Leopard, and a pride of Lions that included two females, two males and two tiny cubs.

We evem saw the hippos, elephants and buffalo about 5 feet off our balcony. We’re glad we didn’t see a mole rat, because the custom is that if you see one outside, someone you love will die; they’re normally underground in their burrows.

Birds: Reed Cormorant, Great Egret, Little Egret, Slaty Egret, Squacco Heron, Hamerkop, African Openbill, Saddle-Billed Stork, Marabou Stork, White-Faced Duck, Egyptian Goose, African Pygmy-goose (very cute tiny geese), Spur-Winged Goose, Martial Eagle, African Fish-Eagle, Dickenson’s Kestrel, Red-Billed Francolin (these were little roadrunners that ran in front of our jeep wherever we went), Wattled Crane (an endangered species), African Jacana, Southern Black Korhaan, Cape Turtle Dove, Meyer’s Parrot (I thought our driver said “Maya’s Pirates” because these look like little Mexican pirate birds), Grey Go-Away Bird (his call sounds like “go-away, go-away”), Coppery-Tailed Coucal, Black Coucal, Giant Eagle-Owl, Pied Kingfisher, Little Bee-Eater (a very cute little green guy), Lilac-Breasted Roller (I thought this was the most beautiful), Red-billed Wood-Hoopoe, Red-Billed Hornbill, Ground Hornbill, Crested Barbet, Pearl-Breasted Swallow, Marico Flycatcher, Grey Shrike, Burchell’s Starling

I actually LOVED the birds – even though they probably seem lame compared to the lions and stuff, they were BEAUTIFUL.

Reptiles: Spotted Bush Snake, Nile Crocodile, Rock Monitor, Water Monitor, Leopard Tortoise

I have to say, that I have been thoroughly Disneyfied. In the warthog, I saw Puumba, in the lions, Simba; the elephants were Dumbo and the steenbok Bambi. Kind of sad, I suppose . . .

We actually saw a few cool plants, too. The roots of wild cotton can be used as a cold remedy, though the buds are poisonous. Wild sage can be used as a mosquito repellant and, in conjunction with camel thorn, can cure gonorrhea. The local people use elephant dung in place of any plant ingredient in a remedy because elephants eat everything, so some of every plant is thought to be in the dung. Dried elephant dung is also used as a mosquito repellant and to ward off evil spirits.

There was a “Sausage Tree” that appeared to have salamis hanging from it.

We viewed the animals and plants on foot, from our Land Rover, and on a dugout canoe called a “makoro” which was paddled by a poleman in waters that were, in some places, only 6 inches deep. On our boat ride, in particular, the poleman made me a necklace and a hat from water lilies. In his culture, if a man is in love with a woman, he’d make her a necklace from a water lily – if she loved him in return, she’d make him a lily-hat. (As an aside, to let us taste some traditional staples of his people’s diet, our poleman also dug up a water lily root for us to eat, which tasted of potato, and he plucked and peeled a papyrus reed which tasted sweet and subtly of cantaloupe. The reed can be chewed as chewing gum. )

In general, each moment here so far has been so surreal that I feel that, as of yet, I haven’t fully connected. From the majesty of one of the world’s seven natural wonders, to an elephant standing 5 feet in front of me, to the small boy with scabs covering his head standing directly in front of me as I crossed the border from Zambia to Botswana, to the hundreds of trucks in line for 4 days to cross that same border via a single ferry that carries them each inefficiently one by one, to 112 orphans fed by their neighbors who have nothing for themselves in a village made of mud huts – I don’t have a place in my brain to process all of the sounds, flavors, smells and sights that my senses are imbibing. I’m drinking, but I’m not getting drunk. I’m seeing, but not feeling. I’m hoping that the shock wears off soon . . . I want this to be real.

I miss pizza. And Millie. Mom – Is she okay???

Oh, and sorry for the dirth of photos - Sanjay is experiencing significant, and quite frustrating, technical difficulties. Hopefully, they'll be resolved soon.

3-4 Cows

We meant to post this on our last evening at Tongabezi in Zambia, but the internet connection was down - then we had no connection in Botswana and Blogger was down in Johannesburg last night.

This post was originally composed on 1/4, so I'm posting it there. Instead of the general play-by-play, I'll cut to a synopsis of our experiences at Tongabezi in Zambia and some general musings for the day ;) Our next post will catch you up on Botswana . . .

EXPERIENCES

• Game Drive (1/4/07 AM): Fabulous. We saw 2 white rhinos , as well as many impala, giraffes, baboons, buffalo, wildebeest, vervet monkies, zebras and even a bush baby and a giant monitor lizard at the Mosi-Oa-Tunya game park near Victoria Falls. We were led by Godfrey. Apparently, at Tongabezi, the staff take British names - most of which are generally reminiscent of an English butler's name, like Jeeves. There's Aston, Knox, Given and Godfrey to name a few. The all have fabulous tales that I'll share below. For now, suffice it to say that Knox is my favorite, and I want to bring him home. Not only is he physically beautiful (hubba, hubba – Ashlee, you must come to Africa), but he's fantastically interesting in his insights about his country. More on him later. Interestingly, though, white rhinos are not white - it's a mispronunciation of "wide" - which they are. All rhinos - black and white - are actually gray. Godfrey called the male giraffes "cheeky boys" and said that they fight or "neck" all day long. Actually, on giraffes, you can tell the males from the females by their antlers because the males have no dark fur on them because of all the fighting they do. A guest named Sidney, an American marketing consultant who lives in London, frequents Club Meds, applies too much fake tanner, and is a raving Democrat (yeah!) accompanied us on our drive in the open-air Land Rover.


• Indian Head Massage (1/4/07 PM): Just before we had lunch on the veranda, Sanjay and I each got scalp and face massages from Brigette. Not fabulous, but nothing to sneeze at either. (No, this is not where Sanjay lost his pants ;)


• Zambezi Canoeing (1/4/07 PM): What a beautiful trip. The water was like glass, and we could hear the Falls although they're about 15.5km away. It was on this excursion that we met Scott, the producer of The Color Purple on Broadway and his boyfriend/partner Brad, an addictions interventionist who hilariously interjected a bar from "In the Jungle" every time a topic of conversation grew too controversial or boring. They are wonderfully entertaining and have made our stay here immensely more enjoyable. Again, more about them later. Brian was our guide – he too was pretty fun, although he seemed to want to feed us to the hippos and the crocs. Sanjay was hilarious at first. At the back of the boat, he was our driver, and we kept going in circles. He is not really “at one” with the water. That said, by the end, he was a paddle master.


• Sunset Cruise (1/4/07 PM): First off, as we stepped on to the boat my new nemesis Allan remarked casually “I wonder what the poor people are doing tonight.” I wanted to throttle him. I wanted to scream: “They’re cleaning your room, cooking your meals, and driving your fucking boat. Asshole.” I refrained. Dinner would be another story – but we’ll get to that later. As we left shore, Chris, the driver of our boat, hit a crocodile and blew out the motor of our boat. I still believe that it was hippo, but he wanted to spare us feeling any unnecessary sympathy. (To them hippos are nuisances, though, so I doubt he would have cared. Baboons too.) We transferred boats, and while I sipped water, Sanjay drank a few Zambian beers with Bill, a Coke executive who runs their Burger King arm in Europe and the Middle East, while Alan and his lovely (please note the irony) wife Claudia (pronounced by Alan, in an irritating British accent, Cloud-ia - we've placed a pic below so you can all more fully share in our loathing) drank Chardonnay with Jay, a pharmaceutical salesman who sells hepatitis C drugs at a profit margin of 32% per $50,000 prescription regimen. Yes, everyone seems filthy rich – except us. Those for whom money is their passion are not nearly as interesting as those who just made it accidentally on the way to pursuing some other passion. We sat on a beach on the Zambezi, where there was white sand that squeaked as we walked, and we watched perhaps the most memorable sunset of my life.



• Dinner (1/4/07 PM): Ah yes, dinner was a festive affair. We sat at the group table which included (besides Stacey and myself), Allan and Cloud-ia, Scott and Brad, Bill, Jay, and Sidney. It started off lovely, with our cauliflower soup appetizers and tomato basil salads, and then it quickly turned into a bloody feud between Republicans and Democrats. After I'd introduced myself as a consultant, but said I'd eventually like to go into children's theater, Sidney said "well there's no money in that." I replied that I believe that if I pursue something I really love, the money will come. At this point, Scott started to share the fascinating story of his nearly 10-year endeavor to bring Alice Walker's The Color Purple to Broadway, despite its somewhat depressing themes and its unlikely success. (For those of you who don't know, Oprah Winfrey later got involved in the production and it has been a major Broadway success. He was actually in Africa to participate in the opening of Winfrey's new girls school in Johannesburg.) Well, somehow this very inspiring story was interrupted by Alan. (Note that I could care less how his name is actually spelled.) I'm not certain how, but he moved the topic to politics. He and Cloud-ia (proud pseudo-libertarians/republicans from Newport Beach, O.C.) were right-wing conservatives who supported our fearless leader, George W. Needless to say, it got very heated, especially between Allan and Stacey who clearly despised each other. (At one point, he said, "obviously people like 'her' -meaning me - have to focus on the argument on George Bush rather than Barack's accomplishments," which he insisted were non-existent. I - politely - reminded him of my name and insisted that Obama's ability to unite and inspire people was a qualification that superseded any possible resume entry for a potential president.) It was quite funny because we were all arguing and took quick timeouts as the staff came to sing a few songs in Zambian for us at dinner and then resumed our fight between songs and then afterwards. The next day at breakfast, Alan & Cloud-ia "forgot" to say "Good Morning!"


• Sunrise Cruise (1/5/07 AM): We likely could have skipped this, as it left at 5:45am, and we’d just been on the Sunset Cruise. (Also, as our valet, Given, personally wakes us up and puts us to bed every night, this required him to wake up extra early, so we felt bad.) I’m VERY glad we went, though. Generally, I think both Sanjay and I feel, in Thoreau’s words, like we want to “suck the marrow” from every moment of our trip. I think our comparative lack of wealth has made us very appreciative of every possible experience. As for the cruise – we were the lone boat on the Zambezi, and it was only Sanjay, me and the driver in the boat. It was still and quiet and beautiful and a glorious beginning to our day.


• Victoria Falls (1/5/07 AM): Today, Godfrey took us, with Scott and Brad, to see the Falls from the Zambia side. (Read my last post for more details about the view from Zimbabwe.) From both sides, the Falls are breathtaking, although I think Zimbabwe currently has a better view. My double rainbow appeared again. At the end, we briefly visited a crafts market, where the salespeople asked to barter our socks and clothes for their wares.


• Gorge Swing (1/5/07 PM): Brad and I went on a contraption called a gorge swing in which you jump off of a cliff and swing to the other side of the gorge at a full freefall. It was amazing!!! The initial freefall is sheer terror; you actually think that you are going to just fall to the bottom (about 100m down). Sanjay is insane - and as he jumped Lionel Richie music from the 1980s was blaring in the background.
  
• Simonga Village (1/5/07 PM): Before lunch, Sanjay and I took a tour to Simonga Village, a small traditional village of about 3,000 residents, mostly peasant farmers who work their own small plot for the food they use to live.
  Words cannot describe the poverty. Aston, our guide, kindly led us around, sharing stories and diligently answering any question we asked. We started by meeting the village elder, Elizabeth, who's pictured with me to the left. She has total authority in the village, and her power was inherited from her father, the previous elder. She makes certain all the village children attend school, settles legal disputes, allocates land parcels, etc. My conversation with her was brief but fascinating; she shared that all three of her children had died, and I palpably sensed from her a profound sadness about their loss. She now raises her two grandchildren.
  There are 112 orphans in the Village. They are counted by the Village Guide who led our tour – his other duties are to look over the town and allocate the general funds (which are received, it seems, primarily from tourist donations) for care of the sick or orphaned that he identifies. Generally, orphans are taken in by neighbors. He said most of their parents died of malaria and other local diseases. I wonder to what degree they are affected by HIV. The children (orphaned and not) played with toy trucks they made themselves from fence wire. (That’s right – rusted fence wire that formerly surrounded old train tracks.) They followed us around happily waiting to have their pictures taken, singing songs and dancing for us. The babies had soiled diapers and crawled on the dirt - happily.
  Aston explained that the village homes are made of mud and sticks with a thatch roof. The mud is replaced annually after the rains, and the roof every 7 years. We asked about religion: there are seven churches in the village, all Christian. The churches are mud, and the pews are made from old railroad tracks. We took a picture of the Catholic one (my alma mater would be proud). Aston shared briefly about the rules of marriage, and stated that while asking permission and paying a dowry of 3-4 cows (over time, on credit – everyone recognizes that no one has so much at one time) is traditional, new rules allow for “wife stealing” without punishment. When a young couple is truly in love, the man may steal his young bride (about 18 years old), but must pay a tariff of 1-2 additional cows, for a total of 5-6 cows. (Yes, cows.)
  There were small businesses throughout the village, where many make their money. There were small bars, a vegetable stand, a blacksmith and two carpenters who made furniture. Some villagers work for other local businesses, like the lodge where we’re staying. We learned later that they make as little as the equivalent of $40/month working full-time in the tourism industry here. For the sake of comparison, we’re paying $800 each per night to stay in this lodge. The owner, though he lives in Zambia, is a very wealthy foreigner.
  Our guide said he loves his village – that he was born there and that he will happily die there. Zimbabwe is probably 2-3 miles away, and he’s never been out of his own country. I don’t know what to make of it. Two of the staff I talked to – Knox and Godfrey – both echoed a common theme. They said, for them it is normal – it’s fine – it’s not so bad. They smile all day; they never complain. Unlike us . . . all the time . . . with all we have . . .
  When we spoke to Godfrey on the way back, we asked him briefly about the differences between the education provided at the school established by the owners of our lodge and the government school in Simonga Village. He said that the gap was enormous. While every child from the Tongabezi school passed their National exams, not a single one from the village school did so. He said that the teachers are so poorly paid by the government that while they are supposed to be teaching, most run second businesses during school hours.
  [As an aside, Sanjay tells me that I’m too verbose, but it’s difficult to self-censor when I’m tired, I don’t have the patience to edit and sometimes, like today’s visit to the Village, I feel I simply must provide complete descriptions and not leave anything out. I’m not certain if I’m doing that for me or for you, but in either case, I’m trying to capture each moment as completely as I can. It’s all so, well, foreign and fascinating. That said, do let me know if my blog becomes like a boring slide show of Allan & Cloud-ia’s last Mediterranean cruise. I’ll try to spice it up. Trust me, from where I sit, it’s anything but boring.]
  
• Fishing (1/5/07 PM): We caught a rock, we caught a plant, and Sanjay even caught a tree. Our guide, Aston, actually climbed the tree on the bank to retrieve his lure to avoid our incurring a fee. But we caught no fish. We did see a mama-jama crocodile, and our guide threw beef at it to make it jump in our direction. Not as much fun as you might think and slightly terrifying as it was about three feet from me.

GENERAL MUSINGS

• Up With People: I can’t stop singing Up with People songs now. Before we visited the village, Scott joked that he wanted me to gather the villagers and choreograph a few Up with People numbers before I returned to the lodge. Thanks, Mom, for playing their album about 1.2 jillion times while I was growing up. You’ll be glad to know I can still sing every word to Up with People, Let the River Flow and Robbie Robot and the Tran-Sisters. (Yes, Tran-Sisters.)


• The King of the Countries: So far, everyone I’ve asked where they would like to travel most has said the US, except for Godfrey; he said Europe. The other day, too, one of our cab drivers, when he heard where we were from said, “Ah . . . the king of the countries.” He was insistent. I’m not certain how that makes me feel . . . it kind of frightens me if we are some sort of blueprint for which to strive for developing nations. There simply has to be a better model - or at least one that honors their heritage rather than ours. Speaking of which, there is brand new strip mall in Zambia, complete with a Subway sandwich shop. Let the Americanization begin.


• A Christian Nation: At least 4 local people have mentioned to me that Zambia has been “a Christian nation” since the 1950s.


• Happiness: Poor Sanjay. I kept him up late last night musing about something Knox said. He said people here always smile and never complain, even with what little they have. Meanwhile, many of the American and European tourists with whom he interacts complain incessantly. Sanjay and I talked until he grew bored and tired (as you probably are now of this blog) and we wondered how happiness should truly be measured – in happiness, wealth, freedom, knowledge? Is more happiness better? More choices? I just don’t know . . . (By the way, the academic studies say Zimbabwe, Zambia and Tanzania are some of the least happy on earth. Check out http://www.happyplanetindex.org/map.htm)


• Teeth: I’m not sure what this is about, but all the staff here have beautiful, perfectly white smiles. They don’t seem to eat many sweets. On the flip side, most of the European tourists we’ve met have gaping maws filled with crooked fangs. Frightening.


• Fort Knox: Speaking of beautiful teeth, I come back to Knox. As I mentioned before, he’s handsome, charming and strikingly intelligent. He loves American movies, and wants to go to film school. He used to own his own import business that went bankrupt after two of his trucks were hijacked in South Africa while transporting cars and computers between there and the Congo. Thus, he’s back to Tongabezi, his former employer before he went into business for himself. He also used to be a competitive swimmer, and got a swimming scholarship to a college in Florida that he could not accept because it required him to find his own sponsorship to enter the US. He's already written us an email to let us know that he's nominated us his "guests of the year". He even called us ",joyful, easy-going, understanding and fun to be with." Such a nice guy. If anyone knows someone in film school admissions - this guy is awesome. We'd love to help him out!


• Mango: There’s a cat in the lobby of the lodge named Mango. She follows Sanjay around and she mysteriously drools. It’s slightly disturbing. Oh, Mom, just so you know, they had dogs for pets in the village as well.


• Squeaky: My plague has now simmered to a squeaky agitating voice that I hope people don’t mistake for the real thing. That said, I feel almost 100% better ;)

Question of the Day: How do you think Sanjay really lost his pants?

Good night – and again, tomorrow, when I’m less tired, I’ll be a much better writer ;)

Quickie

Okay - so we've been blogging losers, and we've missed a couple days. We are, however, alive and well. We're headed to the Okavango Delta this morning and aren't certain we'll have any communication channels for the next 4-5 days. After that, we'll be in Johannesburg for a night, where we'll catch you all up on our adventures . . .

Oh, for those of you playing along at home, Sanjay's pant count is now down 1 as well . . . his blue jeans mysteriously vanished into the bush surrounding Tongabezi. Most likely, a fashion-conscious baboon is sporting a new pair of Calvins in a nearby tree.

Actually, while that's a joke, it's most likely that one of the staff needed a new pair of pants :(

In the Presence of Angels

On to Zambia.

This morning we awoke (actually, I awoke, Sanjay never slept having blogged and uploaded photos all night) around 4:30am. We were picked up by the nicest taxi driver ever (actually, there seem to be alot of those in Cape Town) who pointed out the sights as we took the 20-minute ride to the airport. In particular, he introduced us to Stinky Towers, 2 broken down old power towers outside of town that are across the street from a sanitation plant - thus the name. He looked like Josh, and called us "lucky buggers" as we described the rest of our itinerary to him.

We boarded our plane to Johannesburg without incident, and once there we shopped for a couple of minutes during our layover. We both got flip flops in preparation for our Tanzania bucket showers, and I got sunglasses for safari, since I seem to have lost my superstar Prada pair.

From Johannesburg, we caught our flight to Victoria Falls, Zimbabwe on British Airways. This is an airline that takes its carry-on rules seriously and, even though they would have easily fit, they took our carry-on bags which include our necessities and expensive items like Sanjay's insanely awesome camera. There was a moment of terror as we were, after all, flying into Zimbabwe, and we had no idea what might happen to our checked luggage, let alone the bare necessities we'd crammed into our carry-ons. As it turns out, the fear was unnecessary (as most of my fears seem to have been so far), because our bags were waiting at the bottom of the stairs when we disembarked. (Another unnecessary fear was the weather - though wunderground had prophesied thunderstorms at Victoria Falls, the skies were clear, blue and beautiful.)

Waiting for us at the airport was Roy, a very friendly Zimbabwean tour guide, who was prepared to take us directly to our lodge in Zambia, Tongabezi. That was, until he suggested that we could get a better view of Victoria Falls from Zimbabwe than from Zambia. As soon as he did, Sanjay and I both looked at our passports to realize we had only a double entry visa (which meant we could only come back to the country to catch our outbound flight). So, if we wanted to see the falls from Zimbabwe, it had to be today. So we asked Roy to make a quick diversion to the falls, which he gladly did.

Victoria Falls was incredible. I don't have language to describe it, so I'll let the photos speak for themselves. Suffice it to say there were two rainbows (Ashlee-"it's a double, it's a double"), and butterflies everywhere. Angels were present. (For those of you who don't know, at my brother's wake, there were two rainbows in the sky and, shortly after his death, there was an infestation of butterflies on my mom's back porch. Since then, these two signs let me know he's around. He seems to be whenever I travel :) The scale and magnitude of the falls cannot be fully grasped from the photo - there are literally almost 2 miles of continuous, powerful waterfalls.

After our quick tour, we comtinued our drive toward Zambia. We saw several locals carrying items on their heads, and a young boy, maybe 12, sweating profusely as he diligently pushed a cart full of what looked to be equal to 25 10-pound bags of potatoes up the middle of the road.

Finally, we headed across the Zimbabwe border again, despite everything I'd prepared myself for, without incident - and then into Zambia to Tongabezi. At the border, we did see a troop of baboons, including several baby baboons, as well as some vervet monkies. They were literally no more than 10 feet from our car!

Tongabezi is heaven. It has a quiet and serenity I don't think I've ever experienced. Our small cabin, which is open via screened enclosure, opens onto the banks of the Zambezi river - where hippos play and crocodiles lie in wait. We were assigned a valet, Given, upon our arrival, who takes care of whatever we need - from drinks to laundry to scheduling activities. He is a kind little man who goes out of his way to be helpful.

To end the day, we ate outside on a terrace facing the Zambezi, serenaded by a choir of local voices. The meal was very western (I had pork loin and potatoes), with one dish - I think called nshashi - or something like that - that's a ground corn meal - almost a cross between polenta and grits. Interesting. We started with a very yummy soup though made of fresh tomatoes and ginger.

Well, I suppose that's it for tonight - I'm still fighting off Sanjay's plague. Keep reading - tomorrow's our first game drive - you never know what we might see . . .

PS - Ashlee, in response to your comment, we managed to catch a couple minutes of the Carnival parade as it passed by the District Six museum. The level of revelry, and the costumes and dancing were the same as the competition the day before, so fear not - we caught what we needed.