Kelly's African Journey... continues!

Don't look up!

2010-04-18T05:17:00.001-04:00

Uganda has over 1000 species of birds…. More than any country on the continent of Africa. I was never a “bird person” until coming to Uganda. Most birds are so unusually beautiful that they actually seem like a creation by a talented artist from Walt Disney Studios. One of the most common birds found in downtown Kampala is the Marabou Stork… locally known as Kaloori. You know the one I am speaking of… as children we are told it is the stork that delivers babies. Baby shower invitations and birth announcements will often feature beautifully illustrated pastel colored storks holding a blanket-wrapped bundle of joy. You know me, I love all animals. I’m even fond of snakes and sharks. But, after coming face to face with the real-life stork, I’m confused to why we would choose to associate this bird with child birth. This is a BIG and rather frightening looking bird. The stork is the equivalent to the American pigeon…. They are everywhere. I feel the urge to drop to the ground and cling to a large object when one flies overhead…. At the very least take cover in fear of what might drop from its massive body. I’m sure car wash owners are a big fan of the stork. Don’t get me wrong… I like this prehistoric looking, slightly intimidating bird. I just think we should reconsider its association with child birth. Why not the Turocco, Shoebill or my personal favorite, the Crested Crane. What do you think?

Walking the streets of Kampala

2010-04-18T03:57:00.000-04:00

My plan for Saturday morning was to head to the gym for a little cardio before diving into some of my projects. It was such a beautiful day I decided to hit the streets for a good power walk. Kampala is a city of hills… think San Francisco, but on a smaller scale. The streets are very clean. I’m amazed at the number of street sweepers and sign cleaners. My walk started around 8am. It was wonderful to see the city come to life. I love the street hawkers. In addition to your traditional newspaper hawkers, you’ll find a variety of products that can be purchased while driving or walking along the street. Take for instance… shoes. I came across a young man caring around 15 pair of shoes in a variety of sizes and styles. The shoes were displayed on a carrying rack designed with this form of sales in mind. Cars stopped at a red light would be provided with the opportunity to browse his selection from the comfort of their car… talk about convenience. While observing his sales technique, he smiles at me. He gives me a nod towards his shoes and asks if I would like to have a look. I politely decline. He smiles and says, “Have a good day, Madame”. Selling along side of him are others with displays of toys, cleaning supplies, socks, nuts, jeans and my personal favorite bootleg DVDs. I find myself buying “Nine” and “The Bounty Hunter” for 10,000 schillings… the equivalent of $5 or $2.50 each. No one is overly aggressive in their sales pitch. In fact, no one even tries to sell me anything… except for the newspaper hawkers. While walking the streets I come across Small Street stands offering specialty services such as watch repair and shoe shines. As the morning sun continues to rise, I can feel the hot, equator sun growing more intense. My decision to walk the streets of Kampala instead of exercising in the gym was a good one. It’s going to be another beautiful day.

What time is "mid-day"?

2010-04-18T03:13:00.000-04:00

If someone of great importance request to meet with you “mid-day”, what time would you show-up? Noon? 1pm? Very seldom do you find me at a loss for words; however, when an administrative assistant informed me that the Minister wanted to meet with me “mid-day” I stared at her with a blank expression as I tried to figure out in my mind the meaning of “mid-day”. Unable to resolve this dilemma I replied, “What time is mid-day?” She stares back at me with the same blank expression. I offer some assistance… “Is it 12pm… 1pm?” Nothing. I decide to call the minister on his mobile for clarification. Mid-dial, I hear her repeat the same message to someone else. “The Minister would like to meet with you mid-day”. Am I missing something here? Is this a practical joke? Am I the victim of Uganda’s version of “Candid Camera”? How can he schedule two meeting at the same time…. At “mid-day”? Luck is with me as the Minister answers his phone. He seems excited to hear from me and exclaims… “I am looking forward to meeting with you mid-day”. Politely I ask, “As am I, but Minister, could you please clarify… what time is mid-day”? Silence. I explain that there is a representative from China who is also scheduled to meet with him at mid-day. At this point I believe he sees the dilemma and proclaims, “I will meet with China at 12pm and you at 1pm”. Now we’re getting somewhere. When I arrive at 12:50pm for my confirmed 1pm meeting, I notice there are about six people waiting in his reception area. I guess they all had appointments scheduled for mid-day. Several people exit his office around ten minutes after 1pm and to my delight, I am escorted into his office. While in his office, I notice there is no computer. This explains why he never responds to my e-mail messages or my “friend request” on Facebook.
We Americans suffer from serious A.D.D. When we want to communicate with someone, we call them on their phone…home phone, mobile phone and office phone. If they don’t answer, we leave a detailed and often long message explaining why we are trying to reach them. Then we send a text message. If we don’t hear back within two minutes, we send an e-mail AND check their Facebook status for clues to their whereabouts. This could not be further from how things are done in Africa. If the person you are trying to reach doesn’t answer their mobile phone, you are basically out of luck because…

1. No one has voice mail on their mobile phone

2. No one has voice mail in their office… not even at the house of Parliament.

3. Emails are rarely responded to IF received at all

For a high-strung, intense American like me this has been an interesting adjustment and a good lesson. Reminds me of the importance of patience and flexibility. In all honesty, it’s been a refreshing change of pace.

They call me "Mzungu"

2010-04-11T11:43:00.002-04:00

I can remember the first time I was called “Mzungu”. It was during my first visit to Uganda in August of 2008. I was staying in Kabalagala, a small town just on the outskirts of Kampala. I would often walk the streets to visit the local market, internet café, restaurants or the offices of Great Lakes Safaris and would see the same friendly faces. While shopping in the market, I caught the eye of one local resident. His eyes wide with surprise and a smile stretching from ear to ear he says, “Mzungu, You are welcome!” Within days, everyone was calling me “Mzungu”. After my 3rd week in Uganda, a local actually said to me, “Mzungu, you are Ugandan now!” I was touched believing I had been given a special nick-name chosen just for me. What does it mean, you ask? “White person”. Its how many Ugandans address us, well… white people. It is not said in a derogatory manner, but with warmth and affection.

Uganda has the reputation of being the “friendliest country in Africa”. I would have to say I agree. During my stroll around town today I was greeted with smiles and “hellos” from everyone I passed. It truly is a “happy place”.

As Sunday comes to an end, I am looking forward to seeing my friends and business associates tomorrow.

Has it really been over a year?!

2010-04-10T13:39:00.003-04:00

It’s hard to believe it has been over a year since I returned from Africa. As 2008 ended, so did “Kelly’s African Journey”… or so I thought. As best I could, I kept everyone up to date during my journey. What a journey… an adventure of a lifetime. Think about it, I touched and walked along side lion cubs in Zimbabwe, fed a herd of rescued elephants by hand, stood within 30 feet of white rhinos in the wild, felt the mist of Victoria Falls…one of the seven natural wonders of the world, tackled class five white water rafting on both the Zambezi and the Nile, went trekking with the rare and endangered mountain gorillas of Uganda and was even charged by a Silverback, hiked through the beautiful rainforests of Kibale National Park (which has the largest population of chimps and primates in the world), traveled alone on a public bus on the borders of Uganda, Rwanda and the Congo, camped in the Serengeti, hiked Mt. Kilimanjaro, spent time with the Massai tribe, drove through the Ngorogor Crater in an open roof Land Rover, had a near plane crash (both engines were out at one point and we were instructed to put on our life jackets as we were hovering above Lake Victoria), lived out on Zanzibar Island for over a month where I participated in an International Coral Reef Clean-up program, went scuba diving with spinning dolphins and whales, rescued a dog from being stoned, drove along the coast of South Africa where you could see whales swimming in the ocean from your car window and visited a penguin colony, hiked the top of Table Mountain in Cape town and volunteered at iKaya Likababa, a home for abandoned babies and orphans in Kwazulu National South Africa.

Before leaving for this journey I was approached by many friends and family with concern over how I would adapt to living in Africa. Let’s face it, I was a fairly high maintenance and slightly spoiled American woman… use to designer shoes, business suites, air conditioning and frequent trips to the spa. I was giving it all up to follow my passion… to follow my heart. Did I adapt… very well, thank you very much. What I didn’t realize is my biggest challenge would be adjusting to life back in America.

I sort of abandoned my blog once leaving Africa. A final post to “Kelly’s African Journey” would have meant that my journey had ended. This was something I could not accept. During my time in Africa I was constantly receiving signs that this was exactly where I was supposed to be at this point in my life. I came across many opportunities and knew that somehow I would be coming back….. and now the time has come!

I am sitting in the lounge at Dulles International waiting to board a flight back to Uganda. I have been working in partnership with the Ministry of Tourism, Trade and Industry, Uganda Wildlife Authority, Uganda Tourism Association and tour operators to build their tourism brand and increase visitors to the National Parks. Tourism is one of the top revenue sources and provides many jobs for Ugandans and supports many conservation efforts such as protection of the endangered mountain gorillas. It has been an amazing ride… New York, D.C., L.A. London and now back to Uganda.

I plan to spend about three weeks in Uganda, and then I will head down to Durban, South Africa for Indaba… Africa’s largest travel trade show. I’ve also managed to squeeze in a one week visit with my friends from iKaya Likababa. I really want to visit my friends (and the lions!) from Antelope Park, the African Lion Environmental Research Trust and Zanzibar, but my schedule is just too tight. But that’s o-kay… I have a feeling I’ll be coming back again!

Jabu

2008-12-04T08:08:00.000-05:00

Olwethu

2008-12-04T07:56:00.001-05:00

Nonjabulo

2008-12-04T07:37:00.000-05:00

Nombuso

2008-12-04T07:36:00.001-05:00

David

2008-12-04T07:34:00.001-05:00

Angel

2008-12-04T07:32:00.001-05:00

A Home for Abandoned Babies

2008-12-04T03:04:00.000-05:00

South Africa is currently experiencing one of the most severe AIDS epidemics in the world. At the end of 2007, there were approximately 5.7 million people living with HIV in South Africa, and almost 1,000 AIDS deaths occurring every day.

As well as many children being infected with HIV in South Africa, many more are suffering from the loss of their parents and family members from AIDS. It is estimated that there were 1.5 million South African children orphaned by AIDS in 2007, compared to 780,000 in 2003. Once orphaned, these children are more likely to face poverty, poor health, and a lack of access to education or worse, complete abandonment.

Of some 1.5 million AIDS orphans in South Africa, The government provides support to about 238,000. To make matters worse, Child welfare organizations across South Africa have observed a significant increase in the number of abandoned babies in the past year.

Melanie and Sean Grant, a husband and wife team with a whole lot of love and compasion,wanted to make a difference in the lives of these poor little lost soles. The only home available in the area for abandoned babies housed children 0 - 18 and was currently filled to capacity. It was then they started the non-profit organization iKhaya LikaBab, which means "House of the Father" in Zulu. Their mission is to impact the lives of babies from birth up to three years old, whose future is being threatened by HIV /AIDS and abandonment by providing them with a home where they can experience loving relationships and be a part of a secure family environment whilst trying to find suitable families with whom to permanently place the children either through foster care or adoption.

The office is based out of Grant family home and the actually orphange is about a ten minute drive away. When I arrived, Melanie basically chucked me the keys to her house, her car and and the office and said she would see me in two weeks. She and her family had planned a visit to her parents in Cape Town and basicaly turned everything over to myself and another volunteer. Our second night at the house by ourselves the police arrive with a hungry, abandonded baby at 10pm. Two days later one of the babies at the orphanage has a break-out of what we suspect is chicken-poxs. All of the babies are distributed to foster families for the weekend. I get Jabu, who captures my heart immediately. When she arrived at the home this past August she was very traumatized as she had been abandoned at the taxi rank. This was the third time she has been abandoned. She was abandoned previously on a railway track. I was told that she wakes in the middle of the night and cries out of fright. So when this happened I though I would be prepared, but I wasn't. The sound of terror in her voice broke my heart. I instantly broke the #1 parent rule on my first night, "don't let them sleep in your bed". When she woke in the morning and looked over at me smiling, I could have cared less about "the rules". She felt safe and happy and that's all I cared about. I knew at that moment that she was going to be the one to make it hard for me to leave.

Making My Way to Zululand

2008-12-04T03:02:00.000-05:00

In my early twenties I came across an evening news program investigating orphanages in Russia. Needless to say, the findings were not good. In fact, they were downright shocking. There were institutions with hundreds of cribs and only two employees. The babies had numbers, not names. They were filthy and their diapers had not been changed in days. Many of the orphans who survived would often run away to live on the streets as young as five. They would do anything, including eat garbage, to survive. They would even sniff glue to numb their bodies so they wouldn’t feel the cold. I was horrified. I can remember thinking I must do something. I actually thought through the process of trying to make a plan to join this private American organization in Russia to help with this situation. No matter how I tweaked my plan, I couldn’t make it work. I had student loans to pay from University, I had just purchased a new car and truth be told, when it came down to it, I just wasn’t strong enough. I made a promise to myself that one day I would do something. My one day finally came.

Knowing the final leg of my journey would be in South Africa, I wanted to volunteer with an organization that was dedicated to helping orphans and abandoned babies. I wanted to be able to take my experience from Cooperate America and help this organization grow. I also want to learn more about non-profit organizations and in particular, the plight of saving abandoned babies and orphans and ideally finding them loving homes. I began my search by using the website www.idealist.org You enter all of your parameters… volunteer work, South Africa, orphans, time frame, etc. and a list of organizations that match your search appear. After reading about iKhaya LikaBaba, I knew this was the organization. The phrase iKhaya LikaBaba means “House of the Father” in Zulu. It is an organization that houses abandoned babies and orphans in Empangeni in the heart of Zululand. The organization is only in its first year. They currently house up to six babies and are at capacity. Next year, their plan is to expand to 20. They are also looking to grow Nationally and Internationally. iKhaya LikaBaba is a home, not an institution. Each of the baby’s crib has a colorful mobile; the playroom is full of toys and lots of windows to let in the sunshine. Although their clothes are donated, they are of good quality. They receive the best care from doctors, physical therapists and nutritionist. But most of all, they are loved. They are held, hugged and kissed on a regular basis.

To get to Empangeni, I flew from Cape Town to Durban. I was first told by Melanie, the founder of the organization, that a woman by the name of Renee would retrieve me at the airport and we would drive the two hours to Empangeni straight away. The day before I was to leave Cape Town plans changed. I was now going to be picked up by Ray, a loyal volunteer, and stay the night at his house. Renee would come and fetch me the next evening. I’m flexible, so this wasn’t a problem. Then, while at the airport in Cape Town I receive a call from Ray. He explains that he is going to the big rugby match and that his mother Helen will be retrieving me from the airport. His mother? For some reason I assumed Ray was an old man. When I get off the plane I look around and see no sign that says “Kelly” or “I’m Helen”. Ray had given me her cell number. As I was about to reach for my phone to call, someone touches my arm and says, “Are you Kelly?” It was my new friend Helen! We found each other by simply being the two most confused looking people at the airport. Helen gave me a tour of downtown Durban. It’s a beautiful beach town that has lost its charm. She spoke of the days when as a young girl she could walk the streets of the city at night to shop. “Now”, she expressed with disappointment in her eyes, “you wouldn’t make it to the end of the street without being killed.” She went on to tell me that you can’t even wear jewelry during the day or it will be ripped right off of you.

She explains that we will be picking up Ray and his friend from the Rugby match but will return to the house until the match has ended. Their house is absolutely gorgeous. Helen leads me to the guest house behind the pool and explains that I will be sleeping in Ray’s quarters. As we enter the guest house I am transformed to Wayne’s World… guitars hanging on the wall, CDs tossed about everywhere, hookah pipe on the dresser, surf boards leaning about… I don’t mean to stereotype, but without meeting Ray, just but observing his lifestyle, he just didn’t seem like the type that would volunteer for an orphanage.

After a nice cup of tea Helen received a call from Ray to let us know the match was over. Little did I know that this match was the “Super Bowl” of Rugby. A friend of Ray’s invited him to his company’s suite where they could watch the match in luxury. Ray and his friend were in high spirits. First, because the Sharks won the cup and second, because food and drinks were included in the suite. After visiting Ray’s room he looked like I expected,…a young, attractive, alternative-rock-star-surfer-dude.

When we returned to the house we went out to the surf shack (Ray’s room). His mother gave him a lecture about the condition of his quarters, he laughs it off. As she continues with the lecture, he pulls out a king size mattress from behind his wardrobe and flops it on the floor next to his bed. I help his mother dress the mattress. As his mother leaves she yells out an approximate time for dinner. Politely, Ray asks if I would like to take a shower. “Not at this moment”, I reply. He announces he really needs one and begins to strip off his closes… down to his boxers and heads for the shower. I sit on the nicely made king mattress and I absorb the events of the day. Think about it, I’m in a foreign country staying with people I have never met in my life. In fact, they have never met me yet they are acting as if my presence is very normal… as if I’m a relative they haven’t seen in a long time. While I’m in mid-thought,
Ray does a leaping sideways spiral twist across my king size mattress onto his bed, towel wrapped around his waist. He begins to ask me the questions I seem to get everywhere I go in Africa… where am I from?... When did I arrive?... How long will I be staying? When it was my turn to “interview” Ray, I found out that his role as a volunteer with iKhaya LikaBaba was to retrieve volunteers from the Airport in Durban, let them stay in his “quarters” until he was scheduled for a business trip in Empangeni which was usually within a few days, then drop them off at the orphanage. You’re probably wondering how a rock-n-roll-surfer-dude got involved in this project? So was I. Ray works in his family’s plumbing business. iKhaya called his company to bid on a project. Once he arrived and looked at the job, he realized the project was too small and too far away. You see Durban is two hours away from Empangeni. Although Ray decline to accept the job, Mel, the founder of iKhaya, asked Ray how often he did business in Empangeni. When he said he was there as least once a week she asked if he would be willing to retrieve volunteers from the airport and bring them with him and he said, “sure.” Sometimes there happens to be a few days between when he picks them up at the airport and when he takes them to the airport, that’s when they “crash in his room.” And this is how Ray became a volunteer with iKhaya LikaBaba… and how I became roommates for three days with a rock-n-roll-surfer-dude. I must say, I was very impresses with Ray. He was a true gentlemen and perfect host. He invited me to join him surfing at 6am, when I told him I liked the CD he was listening to he gave it to me to listen to while I was in Empangeni, he would ask my opinion on stock purchases… he clearly had done his homework, he invited me to go to the mall with he and his friend, and even invited me to come stay at his house on weekends when I wasn’t volunteering. I instantly fell in love with the whole family. We stayed up late one night sharing travel stories and laughing until we had tears rolling down our faces. It was at this moment I made my mind up that I would make sure to spend at least a night or two with this family before I head back to the states.

2008-11-26T06:23:00.001-05:00

Maria and I had planned to rent a car for the day and drive along the coast. Not only are there many quaint sea-side towns, the drive along the ocean is said to be stunning. We were only about ten minutes outside of the city and I had found the place where I could live forever… Clifton and Camps Bay. This was an upscale, beachside community with restaurants, a theatre, and art galleries. Each home was more beautiful than the next and all had views of the ocean. The ocean had big, strong waves and the water was clear. The sand on the beach was like powder. There were patches of large, smooth rocks that looked like they were strategically placed. I could have ended my road trip with this destination if it weren’t for the incentive of penguins in the wild and chance sightings of whales. With that thought we jumped back into our car and headed down the coast. We didn’t get too much further before we noticed whales breaching not far from the coast. There were plenty of pull-off points along the road to park as I can see where this can cause quite a traffic problem for locals trying to get to or from work or home. Every mile of this drive was turning out to be so spectacular, Maria and I were beginning to wonder if we would ever make it to the end of continent… our goal destination. It was at this point we made the decision we would drive straight to the penguins, then on down to the end of the continent… do not pass go, do not collect $200… no stopping at the cute little sea-side towns until on our way back. Although we stuck to our plan, we had a tendency to drive very slowly through the towns with one of us always shouting out “let’s be sure to go in that store on the way back!” It was much longer before we arrive to Boulders Beach the home of the penguins. It was great to see these little guys in the wild and not in a zoo. Watching them swim in the ocean, up to the beach and waddle up to the rocks was a real treat.
After spending time with our tuxedoed friends, we jumped back in the car and headed to the tip of the Africa. For some reason I expected the very end of the African continent to be a deserted place, oh contraire. First, we had to pay to see the end of the continent… the area was a National Park. Then, we pull around to the end where we witness a bit of a circus. There are at least 25 giant tour buses, over 100 cars, two gift shops, a restaurant, a coffee shop and restrooms. The views are stunning, but am I missing something here? There really didn’t seem to be much to the park. It was very flat and dry… bush like, with no trees so you could see for miles… nothing until you got to the ocean. Maria and I didn’t venture off onto any of the many side roads as time was ticking and when didn’t want to cut into any of our “sea-side town shopping”.” So, I can now say I have been to the very end of the African continent, then practically peeled wheels to get out of there and to the cute little sea-side towns for some shopping and a bite to eat. Back North we go!

2008-11-26T06:18:00.000-05:00

Table Mountain

2008-11-24T04:01:00.000-05:00

Table Mountain is to Cape Town what the Eifel Tower is to Paris, or the Golden Gate Bridge is to San Francisco, but it was constructed by nature. Its beauty towers over the entire Cape luring you to come explore. Going on the expert advice provided at the reception of our guest house, Maria and I checked the weather forecast in the beginning of our stay, identified the day of the week forecasted to have the clearest, least windy day, and planned this day for a trip up to Table Mountain. The plan worked out perfectly… we had a beautiful day for our adventure. Often described as magical and mystical, Table Mountain is visible from almost everywhere in Cape Town and is often used as a beacon by which to find direction.
The mountain rises 3,567 ft. Its flat summit measures nearly 3km and provides breathtaking views over the city and its beaches. Table Mountain is home to a rich fauna and flora, many species of which are endemic and survive only in the unique ecosystem which is contained on the mountain. There are approximately 1470 species of plants, including over 250 different species of daisies! Examples of endemic plants are the rare Silver Tree and the wild orchid Disa Uniflora. Animals such as baboons and porcupines live here freely, as well as furry rodents called Rock Dassies. These little creatures look like plump rabbits without ears - incredibly, their closest living relative is the elephant! The Table Mountain Ghost Frog is an example of an animal found in no other place on the world.

I was shocked when I realized that you could actually see whales breaching. I noticed they were so close to the shore. If you could see them from the top of Table Mountain, imagine how well you could see them from the shore?! We had arranged to rent a car for the next day to drive along the coast…right past the very spot where the whales were breaching. This had me very excited about road trip!

2008-11-24T03:58:00.000-05:00

2008-11-24T03:53:00.000-05:00

Cape Town

2008-11-24T03:34:00.000-05:00

Before heading to my next volunteer assignment my friend Maria and I decided to meet in Cape Town for eight days. Now remember, Maria has been living in the bush in Botswana since March and I have been living in various East African countries in the bush, jungles and even an island where I didn’t wear shoes for over a month. After months of roughing it, we are suddenly thrusted back into a modern metropolitan city. Three words… GIRLS GONE WILD.

We were staying in a cute guest house at the waterfront. It had real duvets and lots of pillows on each bed, and even electricity and hot showers. And guess what? The power never went out! The streets were paved; I didn’t see one donkey only cars, streets lights (which are called “robots”) and tall buildings. I couldn’t believe how foreign this felt to me. It truly felt like a different world. I must admit, it was a world I was ready to play in again.

Our first stop…. the famous V&A Waterfront. This landmark has everything from world class shopping, to casual and fine dining. And we did it all! We both were in desperate need of haircuts and treatments. After spending a few hours at the salon, we shopped for some new clothes to replace the stained and torn clothes we had been wearing for the past six months. The economy may suck in the U.S. but the dollar is very strong in South Africa…. 11.5R to $1. A simple white, v-neck t-shirt set me back 4.95R… that’s less than $3! Certainly worth replacing the one I had been wearing for close to six months with cow blood stains from feeding the lions. Trust me, I bought more than a white t-shirt. We had to take full advantage of this opportunity… just ask Jimmy Choo! We dined on the Capes best seafood and best wine. The next day we went for the full spit shine…. Massage, facial, manicure, and pedicure. If I told you the price you wouldn’t believe me. O-kay, I’ll tell you…. $90! And this was at a high-end hotel and spa. I think I’m going to move to Cape Town!

All I can say is, “You can take the girl out of the city, but you can’t take the city out of the girl!”

2008-11-24T03:29:00.000-05:00

Dog Gone: Operation Export Locha

2008-11-11T13:12:00.000-05:00

The first day I stepped on the beach in Zanzibar I saw her. At first I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. She looked just like my pooch Phoebe… same size, same color, same face, same lopsided ears. She was under a beach bed. There were people lying on the beds so I assumed she belonged to them. It didn’t matter. She reminded me of my dog and nothing was going to prevent me from petting her. When I asked if I could pet their dog the couple explained that it wasn’t their dog. She had found refuge under their beach bed and had been lying there all afternoon. They explained that a group of local boys had been chasing and throwing things at her. I sat down on the sand and called her to me and she came straight away, tail wagging head hung low showing submission. Although she was wearing a collar, she was very thin, too thin for her body frame. She also had a big gash on her right paw that was full of sand. I went to find her some fresh water. She drank for what seemed like ten minutes non-stop. I then gave her some of my left over lunch. She swallowed it without chewing. It was obvious this dog was not being taken care of. She was very dehydrated and starving.
Over the next few days I watched her beg for food from tourist along the beach, she would be chased and terrorized by the gang of local boys and she would seek protection under the occupied beach beds. I started to learn more about this lone beach dog. She was about a year old and her name was Locha. From what I was told, her owner moved away from Kendwa Beach and left Locha when they moved. I had also learned that this was a Muslim island and Muslims in this country did not like dogs, at all. I was informed by several shop owners that the same gang of local boys that torment Locha recently stoned to death another dog.
Locha and I became inseparable. She was now getting fresh water and food from me on a regular basis. She was also sleeping with me in my bungalow. If I went out diving, she would wait at the scuba shop until she saw the boat coming at which point she would run to the shore to great me.
Locha had followed me up to the bungalow one afternoon when I went to shower. She was napping on the bed when I heard someone calling her name outside. I went out to find a young European woman. She informed me that someone told her Locha had been seen with a tourist on this property. I introduced myself, than I let her have it. I explained the condition in which I found Locha. She said she and her boyfriend, a local, live two hours away and only come to the beach on the weekend and that they have someone look after Locha during the week. I told her who ever she had “taking care of Locha” was not doing their job. I also informed her about the gang of boys and how Locha is constantly being chased and terrorized by them. She was aware of this! She admitted that she probably should not have taken Locha as a pet last year when she was a puppy. I agreed. I explained that I could find Locha a good home; all she needed to do was give me the O.K. I told her to think about it and let me know.
As hard as it was for me, I encouraged her to take Locha with her. When she called Locha, she wouldn’t even go to her. She had to physically pull her by her collar. I didn’t see Locha for a couple of days. When I did see her, she had a thin piece of twine tied to her collar. She must have been tied up and broke free. Once again she was very dehydrated. All I could imagine was she was being tied up during the week until her owner returned on Friday. We easily fell back into our old routine.
I was preparing for my return to Uganda. I knew I would be gone for a week and I was worried about Locha’s wellbeing. Many of my friends who worked in the shops along the beach would chase the gang of boys away when they would become a threat to Locha. And, local businesses were starting to provide her with food and water. I was still worried about her safety at night while I was gone. My first day back from Uganda I received a call from a friend who was on his way to work at the scuba shop. He said Locha was being chased by the local boys and they were throwing rocks at her. He had run the boys off and Locha was now with him at the shop. I went to her rescue at once. I found her with fresh wounds on her head from the rocks. I was leaving in five days and I knew if I didn’t get her off that island she would not survive much longer.
It was time to create “Operation Export Locha”.
I know what some of you may be thinking. “It’s just a dog, why would you go through all of that trouble and expense?” I’ll tell you why. Passion. I knew in my heart I had to do something. I would never have been able to live with myself if I would have walked away knowing I could have done something to save her. Sadly enough, I have come across many dogs and cats in need of a good home while traveling through Africa, but there was something different about Locha. This dog was a good pet, too good of a pet to let be tortured and left to die. Besides, she had not been spayed and the last thing this island needed was more stray dogs to torture and kill!
The hardest part about my African journey was the fact that I would have to leave my dog Phoebe for six months. For those of you who know me well know that she is my shadow. Where ever you see me, you see Phoebe. My dear friends Linda and Kurt have opened their hearts and home to Phoebe and agreed to take care of her during my travels. They love her so much that before I left I remember Kurt saying “I want us to get a dog just like Phoebe…she’s the perfect size…” So I contacted Linda from Zanzibar and let her know that I found a dog exactly like Phoebe. If she and Kurt want her, I will ship her to them in two days. It didn’t take long before I had the response I was hoping for “we’ll take her!”
I was on a mission. First, I found out that all she needed to arrive in the US was her rabies shot and heath certificate. No quarantine needed. I took her to the only vet on the island and had this taken care of. Then, I flew with her on a tiny bush plane from Zanzibar to the mainland of Tanzania. My friend Barbara that owned the lodge where I was staying offered up her dog's airline crate. Then, I booked her on a flight with KLM which has an awesome doggy program. The only problem was she couldn't fly until the next day, so I needed to find a hotel in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania... a Muslim town, which would allow me a room with a dog. After searching for two hours, a nice Indian owner allowed me to stay in his “hotel”, which actually wasn't too bad. The morning the same taxi driver that helped us search for a hotel the night before, picked us up to take us to the airport. Locha jumped in the car and gave him a swift lick on the face as if to say, “Thank you for helping me… let’s go!” Thank goodness he didn’t mind this show of affection. After completing the paperwork at the cargo department, Locha was ready to go. The flight was from Tanzania to Holland, where she would spend seven hours in KLM's doggy hotel, be taken for a walk and fed... receive the royal treatment before flying to her final destination, where my friend Linda was eagerly waiting to meet the new addition to her family. She was waiting with a brand new collar and matching leash, a plush new bed, fresh water and food. My dear Locha, you are about to be spoiled American style. You will never have another rock thrown at you. You will have regular visits with a proper puppy doctor. Your water bowl will always be filled. You will always have two meals a day, plus lots of yummy puppy treats. You will have toys, yes toys, something you have never heard of before. Instead of being left behind to fend for yourself, you will be included on family trips. And, when it’s not possible for you to go along you will be taken care of by Aunt Kelly and Cousin Phoebe. You will be included in holiday celebrations and taken out on boat trips. You will affectionately be dressed in Halloween costumes, sweaters and bandanas… get use to it, Sistah! You will be invited into your Mommy and Daddy’s bed in the morning for love’ns. You will be happy, healthy, loved and I’ll say it again… spoiled American style! Seemed like a perfect ending until I got the phone call.
One morning I was viewing photos sent to me by Linda of Locha and Phoebe playing together. I was smiling thinking about happy Locha must be. Then, my phone rang with some unexpected news. A friend of mine from Zanzibar was phoning to tell me that Locha’s former owner had opened a case with the police about her disappearance. The police had taken everyone from the lodge where I was staying to the station to interview them about me and my whereabouts. Only one person on that island knows how to reach me and I will never reveal his name. NEVER! You see, as I move from country to country in Africa, I change SIM cards in my cell phone. The number I was using in Tanzania is of no use as soon as I left the country. I am a mystery.
My friends, I am a wanted woman. An internationally wanted woman. Wanted for doing the right thing. Wanted for saving an animal from certain death. Wanted for dog-napping in Zanzibar. Would I do it again? In a heart-beat! I bid farewell to my island paradise as our love is forbidden.

2008-11-11T12:58:00.000-05:00

2008-11-11T12:50:00.000-05:00

“The greatness of a nation and its moral standards can be judged by the way its animals are treated”

Mahatma Gandhi

President Obama!

2008-11-05T05:23:00.000-05:00

Before leaving for Africa, I had made arrangements to insure I could vote. Never before had I become so educated about the presidential candidates, their background, policies, the actions they plan to take if elected, the decisions they have made in the past as well as the present. The more I educated myself the more strongly I felt Obama was the candidate to lead the United States of America. The more I learned about McCain the more frighten I became that someone like him had a chance to be president.
I had heard that Obama was popular in East Africa, particular Kenya. Knowing I was going to be spending much time in East African countries I asked my neighbor Libby, a friend and our local Obama Campaign Representative provided me with a stack of Obama bumper stickers. Thanks to her I quickly became the most popular person around. Not only with locals, but with tourist… both American and European. If the locals had a car they would immediately attach the bumper sticker.
I never made it to Kenya, but the support for Obama in Tanzania was amazing. On my way back from the Serengeti I noticed a road-side curio stand called “The Obama.” Knowing we would go this same route to the Ngorongoro Crater the next day I informed Maria about the stand and we both agreed we must pay a visit. While in Zanzibar we also came across the Obama Tree. Under the tree you could find Obama paintings, Obama checkers, Tanzania for Obama t-shirts, Obama 08 key chains shaped like the island of Zanzibar and Obama Jr., a young local in his early twenties who started “Zanzibar for Obama.” When asked why his is so passionate about Obama becoming the next President of the United States he was very clear and spoke with poise. He said, “you may think that I want him to become president because he is black, but that is not the reason.” He explained that America is the leader of the world. The decisions the president makes effects everyone in every country. “Bush and the Republican Party have not done a good job. This war in Iraq was not planned properly. As a result, too many innocent people, both Americans and Iraqis who were anti-Sadam to begin with, have lost their lives.” He went on to say that he was captivated the first time he heard Obama speak. He felt a strong connection because he spoke of the same values that he was raised with by his parents. I asked him if he wanted a career in politics. “No, But I want to be a good Leader.” He even held a Pro-Obama rally on the island that drew in over 150 attendees, both locals and tourists. After the rally he was approached by two American tourist. They admitted that they were preparing to vote for McCain until they heard him speak about Obama. Because of him, passion and his rally, they had changed their minds. They were now going to vote for Obama. Well done.
I would often say, “If Obama doesn’t win, I’m not going back to the U.S.” Well, it’s official. I can now come home.

2008-11-05T05:18:00.000-05:00

2008-11-05T03:39:00.000-05:00

Near Plane Crash!

2008-11-05T03:36:00.000-05:00

October 6, 2008

Pop Quiz Time: I’ll make it easy for you…True or False - To insure optimum safety upon entering the water after an emergency landing, your life vest should be inflated prior to exiting the plane. True or False?

If your plane crashes into the ocean or a Lake, would you know how to quickly and correctly put on the provided life vest? How many times have you heard the flight attendant review the instructions? If you’re like me, about a thousand times. But let’s face it; you need an advanced degree in engineering to figure out how to put this thing on…. One part goes over your head, straps are going around your waist, and you’re blowing in tubes, pulling on strings. Oh, yeah this is if you can release it from under your seat first while your plane is taking a nose dive into a body of water.

This recently crossed my mind on my plane ride from Entebbe, Uganda back to my island paradise of Zanzibar. The plane had just taken off when the engine began to resist power. The plane started jerking back and forth before you could hear the engine cut off completely. Then came the smell. A clear indication that something was burning. It was obvious that something was very wrong. I looked out the window and all I could see was water, Lake Victoria. You could hear sounds of panic coming from all the passengers. The plane felt like it was going down. The pilot makes an announcement that he is experiencing engine problems (really?!) and is going to turn the plane around and land back at Entebbe. One passenger was praying, well screaming, to Jesus to help her. Now I’m a Christian and I pray to Jesus, but I couldn’t help but think there was a better use of time at that moment then to continuously scream his name out loud. For example, I thought about the complicated life vest. If this bird is going down, I’m going to have this vest figure out by time we hit the water. Once my vest is on, THEN I’ll start praying to Jesus. I couldn’t help but think about the victims on the planes during 9/11. I’m sure they were all praying. Jesus, or whoever it is you pray to, cannot save everyone all the time. You need to do everything in your power to be a survivor and let prayer guide you. Prayer alone will not do. If that were the case, everyone on the planes during 9/11 would have survived. Back to my survival plan, I reach under my seat in search on the life vest. The guy sitting next to me anxiously watches what I am doing. For some reason I can speak and I simply point to the sign on the back on the seat in front of us “Life Vest Under Seat”. He gives me a nod and begins to search for his. Once we both have our life vests I begin phase two of plan that now involves the guy sitting next to me who I realize is quite fit and will make a good “plane-crash-teammate.” I lean over to him and say, “We don’t know what’s going to happen, but let’s be prepared. These life vests are complicated to put on and we are over the lake in a plane with an engine that keeps cutting off and is burning. Whatever happens, let’s stick together. Two thinking heads are better than one.” He is in agreement. I look around and notice others are following our lead and getting out their life vests. I had even shared my suggestion for our emergency exit. The exit closest to us was next to the engine with the problems. I didn’t want to be anywhere near that situation. Plus, it was congested with people. On the other hand, the exit in the front of the plane was clear, no one was seating around it and we could get there quite easily. He was in agreement. Our plan was in place. Now I started to pray, although I couldn’t concentrate because all I could hear was the screaming Jesus lady.

The hesitation of the engine seems to calm a bit and the pilot makes another announcement. He informs us that the problem was caused by a bird flying into the engine. That explains the “fowl” smell. Bad joke, I know. This put everyone at ease once we knew more about the cause.
Within an hour after we landed we had changed planes and were ready to take off again. When it came time for the flight attendant to provide the instructions for the life vest, you can be assured she had everyone’s full attention. As a matter of fact, I latterly saw people sitting on the edge of their seats so they could see better.
As for the pop quiz, if you answered True you are going to be trapped in the plane and drown. You are to wait to inflate your life vest after exiting the plane.

Wishing you all safe travels!

Back to Uganda

2008-11-05T03:30:00.000-05:00

This adventure took place on October 3, 2008

While in Uganda I became friends with Amos, the owner of Great Lakes Safari. I had used his company for my gorilla trekking expedition because it was highly recommend in Lonely Planet. GLS certainly lived up to their reputation. Amos invited me to come back to Uganda to discuss a business opportunity. He had meetings scheduled and wanted to introduce me to a few people… the Minister of Tourism, the President of Uganda’s daughter, members of the board of the Uganda Tourism Association in which he is the president. He also wanted to show me Murchison Falls National Park. Unfortunately, this is a site I missed my first time in Uganda. As you all know from my previous blog entries, I fell absolutely in love with Uganda and it certainly didn’t take him long to convince me to return. The business opportunity I will discuss at a later time, but I do want to share with you my visit to Murchison Falls. How did I let this slip off my itinerary during my first visit?! Amos had arranged for me to stay at this fantastic Lodge situated right in the park. When I stepped out of the Land Rover my mouth literally fell open it was so beautiful. My cabin was build on the side of a cliff overlooking the Nile. The sun was just beginning to set. On the other side of the bank were elephants drinking along the waters edge, hippos were honking as if to welcome me. The cabin walls were floor to ceiling screen with the bed in the center of the room. I could lie in bed and look straight out at the Nile. I was surrounded by forest on either side and monkeys would scamper from tree to tree, occasionally jumping on my roof top. I have to admit, it felt good to be back. The next morning we headed out early to beginning our safari. Our drive began with an open field dotted with thousands of palm trees. This was something I was not use to seeing on safari. Noel, my guide, explained that elephants bump up against the palms to knock down the fruits so they can eat them. Elephant pooh does not digest so the fruit seeds in the pooh are fertilized and planted and grow into palm trees. The Serengeti and the parks in Zimbabwe and Botswana don’t have this echo system. It’s very unique to Uganda… and beautiful! Throughout our drive we spotted many animals… zebra, buffalo, heart a beast, water buck, elephant, and wart hogs. But my favorite memory was the spotting of the Rothschild giraffe. We came across around eight of them on a hill top. They were glazing out over the Nile as if they appreciated their home and the view.
I was now scheduled to take a boat safari up the Nile. The original plan was for me to join a party of 12 on a large boat. Well, my “party” got on the wrong boat leaving me behind. My guide explained that it didn’t make much sense to use the big boat for just the two of us. I agreed. This was before I knew we were going to cruise the crocodile infested Nile in boat the size of a tin can! Seriously, it was half the size of any hippo swimming along the banks. All I can imagining was how easy it would be for a hippo to flip this tin can and the crocs to eat us for lunch. The guide assured me that using this boat was a special treat as it would allow us to closer to wildlife and the falls. I was still trying to decide if this was something I should be excited about.

My safari down the Nile in the tin can was exhilarating! We were basically eye level with the hippos, which didn’t seem to mind our intrusion. Except for one. We were admiring a mama hippo and her adorable calf. Well, papa apparently thought we were a bit too close for comfort. He took a leaping plunge into the water, which is a sign of irritation and aggression. I tried to capture a photo of his acrobatics but missed the shot. What I managed to capture was the photo of him reappear from the surface of the water only a few meters from the boat ready to attack! The “Captain” kicked the S.S. Tin Can in full throttle and we managed to escape from Big Daddy. But I got the shot!

We also got frightenly close to the crocs. There were hundreds of crocs all along the banks of the Nile. Every one of them had their mouths wide open ready to snap. When we would pull up to the bank they would all scurry into the water. At one point there were so many around the boat the “Captain” turn on the motor to insure they would try to climb in the boat.
After our “to close for comfort” encounter with the crocs we headed to Murchison Falls… the Grand Finale. There was the much larger safari boat packed with tourist. My guide explained to me that because of the size of the boat, it could not get any closer to the falls. Meanwhile, the S.S. Tin Can zipped on by way past the large boat. We were so close to the falls the only thing from keeping us from getting closer was the force from the falls itself. I leaned back and enjoyed the cool mist hitting my face. Once again, the travel Gods were looking after me as they have been this entire journey.

2008-11-05T03:26:00.000-05:00

2008-11-05T03:23:00.000-05:00

2008-11-05T03:19:00.000-05:00

2008-11-02T11:10:00.001-05:00

Diving the wall and reefs off of Nemba Island were said to be the best in the Zanzibar Arcchipelago. Once I learned about the wonders that waited, I was eager to get there and experience it for myself. Although the weather remained beautiful, the winds had picked up causing the water to be a bit choppy. It is about a 30 – 40 minute boat ride from the main island when the water is still and wind calm. Knowing I was going to be on the island for awhile, I decided to wait until the conditions were more favorable for diving. After four or five days had pasted, I was beginning to get anxious. I really wanted to dive Nemba Island. Tammy, co-owner of Scuba Do, and I would track the conditions and had finally identified a day that look ideal. The next challenge would be to find a minimum of five other people to join me. You see, it is a bit of boat ride so the trip requires at least six divers and/or snorkelers. I was informed that there was one other diver interested… four more to go. Hey, I’m in sales… this will be a piece of cake. That night during sunset cocktails and dinner I had convinced my new friends who were staying at Duniani to join me as well… Travis and Dana, and Sofia and Maria. By the next morning we had a full boat and the perfect conditions for a trip to Nemba Island. The day unfolded like pages from a children’s fairytale. I have never seen a reef so vibrant and full of life. There were so many things to see. I felt like a kid in a candy store. I even find myself squealing with joy at times while underwater. We swam along the wall observing all of the treasures. When we came to the end we went to cross into an open water-way over to another patch of the reef when a giant sea turtle swam our direction. As we were enjoying the graceful swim of our new friend, we realized that we were surrounded by giant sea turtles… six in total! I’m taking in this gift from nature when I hear the most amazing sound. Off in the distance I could hear the songs of whales. Nature was providing us with the perfect background music as we watched the group of sea turtles glide by. I was so happy I wanted to cry… but I didn’t want to flood my scuba mask. After completing our two dives it was difficult to leave Nemba. We removed our scuba gear and just swam around where the boat was anchored. The water was like glass. The dives were over and I thought there was no way the day could get any better. I was wrong. It was then that close to a dozen spinning dolphins decided to join us. They were so playful and really put on a show. The whole day seem so surreal. It was on this day that I realized the magic of Zanzibar happens above, as well as below the sea.

2008-11-02T11:06:00.000-05:00

2008-11-02T11:02:00.000-05:00

International Coral Reef and Beach Clean-up Day

2008-10-26T08:07:00.000-04:00

It had been a long dream of mine to one day dive the clear blue waters and explore the virgin coral reefs off the coast of Zanzibar. It was one of the main reasons I wanted to visit the island. Within my first 24 hours on the island I signed up with the local dive shop, Scuba Do. Although I have been diving for over twelve years I took a quick refresher course that included a brief shore dive. After the shore dive we headed out for coral gardens. The name says it all. It felt great to be back underwater.
Later that week I learned that my friends at Scuba Do were not only participating in the International Coral Reef and Beach Clean-up Day, they were organizing the clean-up committee for Kendwa Beach and the coral reefs off shore. I jumped at the opportunity to volunteer. Beginning at 9am on the day of the event employees from hotels and restaurants, guests and locals all gathered to volunteer their time. Those who were not divers walked along the beach with trash bags and the rest of us head out to the reef to collect whatever didn’t belong… plastic water bottles, beers bottles, cans, old broken fish baskets, clothes from skinny dipping swims gone wrong, shoes… you name it, we found it. All in all we removed 789 kilos. of trash. Thanks Scuba Do for caring about our coral reefs and beaches.

2008-10-26T07:59:00.000-04:00

Kendwa Beach

2008-10-26T07:16:00.000-04:00

After doing research on the beaches of Zanzibar I decided that Kendwa was the beach for me. You can swim during both low and high tides, the beaches are said to be the best on the island with the best sunsets. This information could not have been more accurate. Maria had only planned to stay four days, a decision she would later regret. I planned to stay about two weeks. I ended up staying for well over a month. If it weren’t for my next volunteer commitment I would still be on my island paradise. My home became Duniani Lodge. My family, the owners Barbara and Rashid who are business partners and former colleagues. They were the lead UN prosecuting attorneys for the Rwandan genocide case. Based in Arusha, Tanzania Barbara would often escape to Zanzibar for R&R from the trial. As the trial was nearing the end both she and Rashid were deciding on “life after the genocide trial.” They decided to go into business together and buy the lodge. The lodge had one big main house for them and eight small bungalows for guests…all situated directly on the most beautiful beach on the island. The lodge also had a large thatched, open air restaurant and bar just steps away from the turquoise ocean. You could sit at the bar, the tables or at one of the living room type sitting areas. I would sometimes lounge on the sofa facing the ocean and read… bliss. Often several of us would gather in the sitting areas with cocktails and play games or just converse about what brought us to Africa and experiences encountered along the way. Because there were only eight bungalows, you had the opportunity to get to know all of the guest. Guests from all over the world with amazing stories to share… a doctor from Australia working in Darfur, UN peace keepers from Belgium and Sweden working in the Congo, a Software developer from Vietnam, a young couple from Seattle who have visited “the roads less traveled” and are now working and living in London, a shipping salesman from Dubai… I could go on and on. In addition to Barbara and Rashid, my Duniani family consisted of the staff who took such good care of me. I enjoy spending time with them every day. Jobe, the bar and restaurant manager basically ran the entire joint. Even though he worked from sun up to sun down seven days a week he always maintained his notorious sense of humor. You would always find Jobe wearing one of his trademark hats… a leopard cowboy hat (my personal fave), an Australian outbacker hat or a small straw one. Some nights he would break out his gourd guitar and play along to the bar music. You couldn’t help but feel happy around Jobe. Although I was unable to update my blog during my stay, I would often receive e-mails from friends and family. First, they would want to make sure I was alright since I hadn’t updated my blog… thank you for your concern; next, they would want to know “what do you all day on Zanzibar?” The answer? I lived life. I didn’t wear shoes for over a month. I watched an amazing sunset every night. I would swim in crystal clear water alongside the most colorful fish in the world. I would have conversations with people who gladly made personal sacrifices to help those in need in Darfur on the Congo. I would dance, sometimes in the middle of the day with locals, I learned to speak Swahili and some Maasai, I went diving with sea turtles and dolphins while listening to the songs of the whales, I ate fresh seafood dinners on the beach under a blanket of stars, I learned of the US economy crumble and thanked God there were no TVs, newspapers or radios on Kendwa Beach. It is what it is, no need to get hit in the face with it over and over and over. So, I continued to live life… Kendwa Beach style.

2008-10-26T07:10:00.000-04:00

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2008-10-26T06:35:00.000-04:00

2008-10-26T06:26:00.000-04:00

Zanzibar

2008-10-25T05:25:00.000-04:00

As soon as the plane nears the coast of the Indian Ocean you begin to feel the energy of the Island of Zanzibar. When you step off the plane your senses instantly drink in the beauty of the warm sun shine, island breeze, sounds of the palms, and the sights of the passing clouds over the blue sky. From the taxi ride from the airport to the hotel in Stone Town it is easy to understand why it is said that the tales of Aldan unfolded right here in Zanzibar. You feel the mystery behind the history of the unique architecture and old mosques and churches. Although there are quite a few cars on the street we need to share the road with carts being pulled by donkeys. Our hotel is hidden down narrow walk-ways that is not wide enough for any motor vehicle. The taxi must park a few blocks away and we walk with our bags through the winding alleys. Our hotel, The Chavada, gives you the feeling that Sultans have been guests. Thick wooden doors with well polished metal studs, giant brass tea pots, wooden chests, finely crafted carpets, and decorative lanterns. At the top of hotel is a restaurant with a stunning view of Stone Town, the Indian Ocean and surrounding islands. We are thrilled with our accommodation. After exploring the joys of Stone Town Maria and I had an early dinner on the beach at Tempo House where we could watch the dhows sail by, then watched the sunset on the Indian Ocean at the roof top bar of our hotel as we sipped exotic cocktails. What a fabulous introduction to Zanzibar.

2008-10-25T05:20:00.000-04:00

Ngorongoro Crater

2008-10-20T12:36:00.000-04:00

September 3^rd

I had arranged for Stephen, my safari guide for the Serengeti, to be our safari guide for the Ngorongoro Crater. I had warned him in advance that my good friend and former colleague from The Sacramento Bee would be joining me. We had not seen each other since February so we would probably talk the entire way to the Crater. He just laughed.

But I wasn’t kidding; I don’t think Maria and I stopped talking from the minute she arrived to the Outpost Lodge in Arusha. We were used to seeing each other every day at work. Then, she was out in the bush in Botswana and I was out in the bush in Zimbabwe and in the jungles of Uganda… we had a lot of catching up to do!

Our conversation ended when we entered the Crater. Stephen informs us that the Ngorongoro Crater is called the eighth wonder of the world and stretches across some 8,300 sq km. It boasts a blend of landscapes, wildlife, people and acchaeology that is unsurpassed in Africa. The volcanoes, grasslands, waterfalls and mountain forests are home to an abundance3 of animals and to the Maasai.

This truly magical place is home to Olduvai Gorge, where the Leakeys discovered the hominoid remains of a 1.8 million year old skeleton of Australopithecus boisei, one of the distinct links of the human evolutionary chain. In a small canyon just north of the crater, the Leakeys and their team of international archaeologists unearthed the ruins of at least three distinct hominoid species, and also came upon a complete series of hominoid footprints estimated to be over 3.7 million years old. Evacuated fossils show that the area is one of the oldest sites of hominoid habitation in the world. They say this is where it all began…. Is that wild or what?!

In addition to herds of zebra and wilder beats, we see amazing birds; such as the pink flamingos and Uganda’s national bird the crested crane. Then Stephen stops the truck and shuts off the engine when we spot a pride of three female lions coming our way. Maria and I have our heads hanging out the roof, cameras snapping away as our cute, furry subjects come closer and closer and closer…. Ummm, and closer. They are now surrounding the truck. One lion looks as if she is contemplating jumping on the front of the truck. Quietly, Stephen says, “do not move.” Maria opts to quickly sit down. My heart was racing anxiously trying to anticipate the lionesses’ next move. It didn’t take long for our guests to become bored with our presences and move on… as did we.

*Insert sexy music of your choice* After volunteering in Zimbabwe at the lion breeding program it was reassuring to stumble along this next pair. A pair of lions happily mating in the wild…. with an audience of six safari trucks packed with tourists and snapping cameras. But did this distract this pair from their mission? No way! When lions mate they do so every 10 – 15 minutes, day and night for several days. By the looks of this pair, they had been going at it for quite a while. Keep at it guys… we need to make sure you don’t get put on the endangered species list.

2008-10-20T12:34:00.000-04:00

2008-10-20T12:30:00.000-04:00

2008-10-20T12:26:00.000-04:00

The first time I saw a Maasai was on my ride from Mushi Town to Arusha. It was a male member of the tribe and he was wearing a red cloth slung around his shoulder and waist, wore sandals, his hair was shorn to the scalp and he was carrying a wooden club. But what really caught my attention were the beads around his ankles and wrists. He was alone and walking along a stretch of dry bush. He was tall, lean and his walk was graceful and hypnotizing. I needed to know more about this tribe.

I shared my fascination and curiosity with my guide Stephen on our way to the Serengeti. Next thing I know he is pulling in to one of the Maasai villages. Stephen asks for permission from the chief to enter the village. After a quick conversation and a donation, the chief rounded up his tribe. Stephen, Joseph and I were greeted with a traditional Maasai tribal welcome dance. It was spectacular. Afterwards, the chief gave me a private tour of the village and explained the traditions of the tribe.

Historically, they were the most powerful and feared tribe in western and central Kenya, as well as in northern Tanzania. Their tight social organization, their offensive warfare and infamous cattle raids, as well as their mobility as cattle-herding nomads, ensured that they could go where they pleased, and could take what they wanted from neighboring people. They were rarely defeated. As a result, their history before the arrival of the British was one of ceaseless expansion at the expense of other people. Their combined Kenyan and Tanzanian territory in the seventeenth century has been estimated at 200,000 square kilometers.

But this is just one side of the story. The other is told by their territory today, which in Kenya covers under 50,000 square kilometers (for pretty much the same population), or less than a quarter of what it was before the British arrived. The Maasai have been progressively confined to smaller and smaller areas of land. The British stole most of it, but even in recent decades land has continued to be expropriated, this time in the form of the wildlife parks of Amboseli and Maasai Mara. The lands stolen under the colonial rule are now mostly commercial cattle or wheat ranches. Story reminds me a bit of our American Indians.

With the exception of a handful of particularly abrasive politicians peddling little more than tribal hate, the Maasai remain marginalized from the Kenyan mainstream, both politically and economically. Yet they have stubbornly refused to abandon their pastoralist way of life, or their traditions, despite repeated attempts by both colonial and post-independence governments to cajole or force them to settle and join the cash economy.

In the minds of the Maasai is an entire people's collective refusal to cede to the social inequality and notion of western superiority imposed by colonial rule, and indeed by the post-independence governments. What I thought was arrogance is in fact both pride, as well as bitterness; but it remains to be seen for how much longer the Maasai can withstand the process of modernization, which has already changed the cultures of their neighbors beyond recognition.

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2008-10-20T12:21:00.000-04:00

2008-10-13T05:28:00.000-04:00

2008-10-13T05:08:00.000-04:00

The Serengeti

2008-10-13T04:38:00.000-04:00

After learning of the price for a solo “budget” camping safari in the Serengeti I actually considered removing this adventure from my itinerary. After all, I had already been on quite a few amazing safaris. What could the Serengeti offer that the others hadn’t already provided? However, the thought of camping among the wild animals was also very appealing; even though my most resent camping experience in Lake Tahoe would not have earned me a badge from the Girl Scouts of America. My passion for Africa’s natural beauty and wildlife had grown too strong for me to pass up the opportunity to submerge myself into the Serengeti. As it turned out, removing the Serengeti from my itinerary would have been the biggest mistake of my journey.
The Land Rover from Safari Makers rolled up promptly at 7:00am to pick me up and begin our six hour journey from Arusha to the main gate entrance to Serengeti National Heritage Park. Stephan was my guide and Joseph the cook. They both had eagle eyes. Stephan was very informative and knew his wildlife and both were great fun. They took very good care of me. Stephen wanted to know what animal I most wanted to see in the Serengeti. I first explained that I simply wanted to experience the world famous Serengeti. I mentioned that I had already been on Safaris and have seen all of the Big 5 except for the leopard, and I would also like to see a Cheetah. Even my friend Maria who lived in the Okavango Delta for three months hadn’t seen a Cheetah. I quickly added that I know these are two of the hardest animals to spot and I will not be disappointed if we do not see them. He smirks and shakes his head as if he had heard this request a million times.
After two hours of driving, the tarmac disappears and the “road” turns to a path of rock, wholes and flying dust which sticks nicely to your sweaty skin given you the appearance of a tan. All I can think about for the next four hours is once again how I wish I would have packed a good sports bra. Before approaching the entrance gate, we drive through the Ngogora Crater National Park. Driving through the park we pass loads of zebra, giraffe, buffalo, and even a serval cat. When we pass through the gates to the Serengeti World Heritage Site all you see is an endless plain, nothing else as far as the eye can see. “Is this it?” I ask Stephen. “Whah, do you tink all da animals are gonna run to great madam Kelly?” Joseph howls with laughter from the back seat. “We have yust broken da skin. Wait until we reach da heart.” We pull to the side and he removes the roof of our Land Rover and tells me to “off your shoes”. I see nothing but miles and miles of bush. We drive for about thirty minutes before we see our first “island”. It’s a small mountain with rocks and trees. The perfect oasis for big cats. And there he was, the King of Beast. Free and in the wild. We shut the engine off and watched the beauty of his movement. With my shoes “offed” I was free to stand on the seat and hang my head out the roof of the truck. The King made eye contact but we were clearly not what he was looking for. However, he came prowling straight towards the truck, so close that at one point I could not even see him. Very quietly Stephen said, “Keep quiet and do not move… at all.” I remember this from my lion handling 101 training. Within a few seconds the King went on his way searching for whatever it was he was meant to be searching for… his mate? An impala? Either way he was a vision.

Not much further along we spot a whole den of Hyenas. I really liked these guys! It was a pack of about 12 or so that even included a few pups. They young were playing about and the adults were getting ready to hunt. As we head to our site to set-up camp we pass herds and herds of zebra and a sunset that melts behind the umbrella trees. It’s a race to construct three tents before dark once we reach camp. Once I return from the “restroom”, Stephen and Joseph have completed this task with ease. Stephen assures me that I will be safe in my little tent despite the fact that both lions and hyenas are both known to frequent the campsites. Then it hits me. What happens if I need to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night? I begin to sweat as I envision myself running with my pants around my ankles being chased by a pack of hungry hyenas straight into the mouths of a pride of lions. My loyal guide pauses for only a moment before he makes a plan. He programs his cell number in my phone and instructs me to call him if the situation arises and he will provide me with an escort. Now that’s excellent customer service! The campsite has two buildings. Each building is about 10 feet wide and about 35 feet long. They have a two foot stone base, a tin roof and strong metal screens wrapped around the entire unit. The structures are used for cooking and dinning and are necessary so that you don’t have uninvited guests join you during meal time or come in and try to steal your food at other times. One building is used for the cooks to store their supplies and prepare each of the meals, and the other is where the campers take the meals. The cooks would actually sleep in the building with the food so if any predators would attempt to break-in to the building they would awake and scare them off. Chef Joseph had set up a table with a traditional Massai cloth, lantern, dishes and had tea prepared by the time I arrived to the dinning pavilion. He greeted me with his notorious smile and a “Karibu!” (You are welcome) What I love about Joseph is he is always smiling. I have never seen him without a smile on his face. Once, he fell asleep in the truck. He even had a smile on his face while he was sleeping. After I’m seated, Stephen joins me. This is one of the greatest things about my journey. If I were traveling with a friend or a spouse, we would be spending most of our time conversing together, since I am traveling on my own I have the ability to personally get to know the locals. This is what has made this journey the most rewarding. Joseph tells me about growing up in a large family in his village, why he wanted to become a guide, how he sends money to his family each month, his plan to build his own house and how is now looking for a wife and how he plans to find her. He is very easy to talk to and we share lots of laughs. It’s not long before Joseph returns with a beautifully prepared appetizer…. WHAT? An appetizer? Aren’t we on safari? This is incredible! I’m not talking a can of peanuts. Chef Joseph delivered something that could have graced the cover of Gourmet Cooking. For the first time Stephan and I was quite. While we were eating I could hear Joseph in the kitchen building talking away in Swahili while all of the other cooks were laughing. This went on until he brought out our meal. I wish I could have understood the story he was telling. Whatever it was, the other cooks sure enjoyed it. We ended having a four course meal. After the appetizer, Joseph brought out pumpkin soup, then a beef curry with rice and chapatti (flat bread), followed by bananas with a chocolate sauce. It was hard for me to believe I was on a camping safari. It sure beats hotdogs which is what I’m use to.
Stephan and I had made a plan to leave the camp by 6am. We would go on safari until about 8:30, then return for breakfast, then head back out again. Stephan’s motto is the earlier the better when it comes to viewing game. How right he was. We drive for about fifteen minutes in the dark. As the sun is just starting to rise we pull up to a larger cluster of rocks. There are three vehicles parked on top of each other which are a clear sign that there is something worth seeing. Stephen pulls up behind then and we see them. Two baby leopard cubs! One of the rarest animals in all Africa to see in the wild. Safari trucks start pulling in from everywhere. Then, as if making her red carpet debut, she comes out of her cave. The one and only, mama Leopard. You can hear the cameras from all of the safari trucks, “click, click, click, click, click”, trucks fighting to get the front position. The good thing is there is a very specific path where the trucks are allowed to be. They are not allowed to leave the path and they don’t. So, although they fight for “front row” position, they are still a good distance away from the mother and her cubs. After a brief pose, the leopard decides to climb to the top of the rocks and head to the far right. All the trucks race to follow her and gain the best position. Not Stephen. He explains to me that the cubs did not follow and she will come back for the cubs. He keeps his eye on the cubs and parks the truck between the two rock piles. The mother leopard disappears back into a cave and all of the other trucks leave except for us. It’s at this moment the cubs decide to emerge and run from the right rock pile to the left rock pile. Straight in front of our truck. Within minutes the mother emerges from the cave to check on them. Stephen and I gasp as we realize what is about to happen. She slowly slithers down the rocks right next to where we are parked and strolls in front of the truck. Without looking out me Stephen says, “Whatever you do just keep taking photos!”. I was so excited my hands were shaking. Once the leopard reached the front of the truck she laid down…. in front of our truck! The two cubs came over to join her. They were rubbing up against their mommy and suckling on her. It was the most precious thing I had ever seen…. And it was our own private show! As they say, all good things must come to an end. The mother stood up and gently held one of the cubs in her mouth and carried it off up the rocks while the other one followed. Even that was a beautiful scene. As we drove off I was in complete shock with what we had just seen. Not even ten minutes had past when I spotted something in the far distance and I asked Stephan, “What is that, a lion?” His reply, “cheetah.” With his Swahili accent I thought I may have misunderstood him. “Did you say, ‘cheetah’?” “Yes, cheetah.” “You have got to be kidding me?!” Although this is a slang-phrase often used in America, the Tanzanian’s take it very seriously. “No, I am not kidding. I am very serious. That is a cheetah.” As we drive along the road the cheetah walks closer and closer towards the road. She stops and waits for our arrival. Thank you Serengeti! She walks up onto a termite mound and literally poses for me, at one point looking straight into the camera. She steps down, slowly walking so that I can see every muscle in her body. Then she lies down and gives me a few more poses before she carries on. A leopard and her two cubs and a cheetah… the two animals I told my guide that I had yet to see. We had seen them both before 8am on our first full day of safari. Stephen then takes me to what looks like a garden oasis. It is a small jungle area filled with palms and a watering hole. Elephants are close by taking in the water, hippos pop up to see who is visiting their territory and tropical birds are zipping around. We head back for breakfast and I tell Stephen, “If we see nothing else for the rest of our time in the Serengeti, I will still have been completely satisfied.” Of course that is not to be the case. The Serengeti continues to fill me with her magic including an encore of a double rainbow. My camping safari in the Serengeti made me feel as if I were part of a children’s book, one that I didn’t what to end.

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2008-10-13T02:37:00.000-04:00

Mt. Kilimanjaro

2008-10-12T16:44:00.000-04:00

August 30th

I had two days in Mt. Kilimanjaro before I was to head out on a camping Safari in the great Serengeti. Not enough time to climb the highest mountain on the continent of Africa, but at least time to hike around the forest level. I stayed in Moshi Town, about a 30 minute drive to where I would begin my trek. Even though I wasn’t investing the seven days required to get to the top of the world, I still needed a permit and a guide for my three hour trek to the moorland level. Along the way we spotted loads of Blue and Calobos Monkeys, waterfalls and unique forest birds, including the Curocus. What really put me to shame was that fact that porters were passing me carrying tents and cooking gear on their backs. I was completely amazed by their stamina. When we reached the huts at Mandara we ate our lunch, relaxed, and enjoyed the view before heading back down. After our seven hour trekking mission was complete I saluted the mountaineers that take on Kilimanjaro from bottom to top as I rubbed my aching knees. That night I had Advil for dinner and Motrin for dessert and thought of my friend Fredrik who had just climbed Mt. Rwenzori, Mt. Kenya, AND Mt. Kilimanjaro all within four weeks. Show off.

2008-10-12T15:48:00.000-04:00

2008-10-12T15:29:00.000-04:00

The Rare Jungle Elephants

2008-10-12T15:03:00.000-04:00

*This advendure took place at the end of August*

While staying at the Primate Lodge in Kibale National Forest, the manager, Emmanuel informed me that the lodge owned a tree house about one kilometer in the forest behind the cottages. The tree house offered a great view of an opening from the forest where you could spot primates, birds and “if you were very lucky you may see the rare jungle elephants.” Emmanuel arranged for an employee to take me back to this gem in the jungle. I would jump at any chance for a hike in the forest. As soon as we approached the steps to the tree house the guide instructed me to “hurry and climb to the top… they are here!” On my assent I looked out to the open field to my right and there they were… not one, but five jungle elephants. The guide was very excited, as was I, but his excitement was a bit more concern. Jungle elephants are very different from bush elephants. Physically, they are narrower in size, darker, smaller and have more body hair. They also become very agitated easily as they do their best to avoid the human species. I was instructed to “hurry up and take photos… we need to leave the tree house.” The elephants were beginning to move close to the tree house and the guide was afraid they would block the path and trap us. When we returned to the lodge, Emmanuel was speechless when we told him we encountered the jungle elephants. He actually didn’t believe us at first. He told me that visitors would sleep at the tree house with a guide for nights at a time hoping to catch a glance of these rare giants. Just one more special memory about Uganda and Africa that I will remember forever.

2008-10-12T14:17:00.000-04:00

2008-10-12T13:53:00.000-04:00

Kibale National Park: Uganda

2008-10-12T12:53:00.000-04:00

* This adventure took place the last week in August*
I was so excited to be back in the forest and at Kibale National Park; I decided to stay at the only lodge located right in the park. Primate Eco Lodge was recently purchased and renovated by Great Lakes Safari. Their facility was so new; I was the first person to sleep in their beautiful Banda. I was in heaven! While eating breakfast one morning, I was entertained by the red tailed monkeys. My primary reason for visiting the park was to hopefully secure a permit to join a Chimpanzee trekking expedition in the lush tropical rain forest of Kibale. Similar to the gorilla trekking, the Chimpanzees are equally protected allowing only groups of seven per chimp family. The number of Chimpanzees in Kibale National Forest total over 4,000, so there are at least six groups in just the one area of forest where I was hoping to trek. Well, it was my lucky day. There was a group of five from England and I was able to able to join them. Before we begin we are instructed to tuck our pants in our socks as the jungle ants are nasty bitters. Then we head off on our journey. You’re senses immediately come alive the minute you step inside the welcome mat of the forest. First, you are captivated by the sounds… birds, beautiful pitches and tones that I have never heard before. They are complemented by the background rhythm of numerous frogs and insects. Then to complete the chorus, sudden bursts of dominant calls from primates. The sounds draw your eyes to search for the hidden treasures. It’s hard to zero in on any one object because the overall bright green canvas of the forest is picture in itself I in-hale slowly through my nose and take in the fresh, clean air. As I continue my walk the smells change…. musty, damp, and then even a bitter smell. It’s at this time the guide reminds us of the thousands of plants in the forest that are used for medicines. He said, “Even the one for Viagra in here”. OUCH! Then I felt something. Jungle ants! Our whole group had just walked through a nest. Our guide was right, these suckers are bitters! One had managed to work its way up my pants leg to my thigh. He let me know he was there by latching on. I went to brush him off and he wasn’t going anywhere. Then I grabbed hold of him with my thumb and forefinger to pull him off and he was still holding on. Are you kidding me?! These ants mean war! I finally released his death grip crunching him at the same time. Luckily, I didn’t have too many. The others in my group were not as lucky. One poor lady did not have on longs socks and the beastly ants crawled straight up her pants. Whoever came up with the phrase “ants in your pants” must have experienced jungle ants. The trekking is much easy than with the mountain gorillas, and we even have a path. We venture off path on several occasions to search for the c chimps, but even then the trekking was not too bad. We spot many primates before we spot the first sign of the chimps. First, we see a chimps nest. We are told that chimps make a nest each night to for sleep. Then, we hear a call and a chimp banging on a tree. Our guide had informed us earlier that this is a technique they will use to try to find each other. We head in the direction of the sounds. We spot them high in the trees dining on some leaves. We even spot one settling in for a post meal nap. They were certainly amazing to watch, but a challenge to photograph. They remained high in the trees with the bright skylight behind them. I don’t know what it is, but I really could pull up a lounge chair and sit there all day watching them. The trek back was equally as enjoyable…sights, sounds, smells, and no jungle ants this time.

2008-10-12T12:26:00.000-04:00

2008-10-12T12:14:00.000-04:00

Tanzania

2008-09-14T04:15:00.000-04:00

Greetings All! There has been about a two week gap in my blog postings as I have not had good internet access. Believe it or not, I am sitting at an open air bar on Kendwa Beach on the island of Zanzibar. I have internet access, but it will not allow me to post pictures. This is a real shame because I have some amazing photographs to share. I went on a camping safari in the Serengeti and a mother leopard and two cubs came straight to our truck! The leopard is the most difficult of the big five to spot and I feel truly blessed to have witnessed this rare scene, along with a double rainbow and much more that I am looking forward to sharing with you when I have better internet access.

Aaaaahhhhh, Zanzibar! I may never leave. I am thinking about staying here until I head over to South Africa for my next volunteer assignment in South Africa at the end of October. I have already been out on one dive and plan to go on many more. I am in love with this place. Trust me, you will be able to feel the magic in the photos once I am able to post them.

I hope everyone is well.

Cheers!
Kelly

My Ugandan Family

2008-08-24T10:17:00.000-04:00

Except when I am trekking in the jungle, I have been staying at this wonderful small Inn on the outskirts of Kampala. From the moment I arrived, everyone on the staff has treated me like family. I have become really good friends with Herbert, the chef.

Herbert, a.k.a. Hatangimana, is from Rwanda. He and his family fled to Uganda during the genocide in 1995. He has one sister, Linda who is 13, and four brothers who range in ages 10 – 27. Herbert is 25. After their escape from Rwanda a few months had pasted. His parents were told by the government it was safe to return. They told Herbert and his siblings to stay in Uganda until they contacted them. His parents along with his oldest brother, ended up being slaughter upon their return. I immediately had visions of scenes from “Hotel Rwanda”, “Shooting Dogs”, and a documentary I watched on the genocide. Herbert and his siblings became orphans in a foreign country. Herbert was 17 at the time, but was left to care for his brothers, one as young as two, and his sister Linda who was only five. I couldn’t believe I was having a conversation with someone who escaped and parents were murdered in this evil act of discriminatory violence. The conversation caught me completely off guard. I didn’t expect to have a conversation like this in Uganda. Now that I think about it, the countries do border and there are probably many refugees. Through many conversations with Herbert, and me asking many questions (for those of you who know me well, know I am not shy when it comes to asking questions), I learn of his struggles to pay for Linda’s school fees. In Uganda, and most African countries, education is not free. It’s not expensive according to American standards but for a family that can barely but food on the table, education can become a luxury. Linda has been attending what is known as a Mission or Catholic school. It is also a boarding school which is good because this insures she is fed and has a secure place to sleep. The new term begins in September and runs through December. The cost? $189. I decide I want to sponsor Linda’s education through graduation. She is bright, smart and eager to learn. English is her favorite subject.
I am looking forward to keeping in-touch with both Linda and Herbert. I know I have made friends for life.

2008-08-24T10:14:00.000-04:00

2008-08-24T10:05:00.000-04:00

Stranded, border town, chicken bus, curious?

2008-08-24T09:59:00.001-04:00

Although my gorilla trekking expedition including transportation back to Kampala from Bwindi, I ask Aaron to drop me off in Kable. Kabale is a small town on the very South-western tip of Uganda. It lies right on the borders of Rwanda and the Congo. We run into a bit of bad luck on our journey out of Bwindi. The front axle on Aaron’s truck snaps in two. We are in the middle of nowhere and he doesn’t have a signal on his cell phone. A few people from the local village pass by and laugh at the severity of the problem. Aaron decides to keep walking until he can get a signal on his cell. So, I left in the middle of the dirt road, on the edge of a cliff. It was here that I saw the largest worm in my life. Shortly after my worm discovery, another safari vehicle came to my rescue. Unfortunately, Aaron needed to stay behind to tend to the vehicle. It was much longer that I was arrived in Kabale. I had read about a museum hostel several months ago and was determined to visit. The name is The Home of Endirisa. I’ve included their website at the bottom of my blog. It’s a great organization. As soon as I got out of the truck I met my first friend, Lillian. She’s a die-hard banana sales girl. Anyone need a sales person? I suggest recruiting Lillian. Very outgoing, friendly, knows her product builds relations. If she saw me around town, she would walk with me to my next destination just to talk about our day…. Always ending the conversation with a pitch for her lovely bananas. Meanwhile, she should have been in school. The Home of Endirisa was a place where people from all over the world would come to stay, people of all ages. It had a relaxed atmosphere. On top of the building there was a covered lounge called “The Nest”. It housed about six sofas and was a great place to read or just hang out. I had planned on catching up on my blog postings but their internet was not working. In town I found this great little shop that sold boot-leg movies. I bought one DVD titled “Nicole Kidman vs. Angelina Jolie”. Eighty movies for only $10. In reality there were only twenty movies, ten featuring Nicole Kidman and ten featuring Angelina, they were just featured in four different languages. Either way, what a bargain. So, if anyone wants to watch Mr. and Mrs. Smith in English, Japanese, Chinese, and Spanish, come see me. After five days in Kable I was really missing the forest. I decided it was time to make a plan to reach Kibale National Park. Here I could obtain a permit to go Chimpanzee trekking. I could also go trekking in the park to see many of the other primates. Getting up North to Kibale from Kable was not as easy as I thought it would be. It looked as if my only option was a seven hour ride on the public bus. After purchasing my ticket, I was told to be at the bus station at 2:30am. The bus was scheduled to leave at 3am. I was not too happy about taking the public bus as I have read and heard many horror stories. When I arrive at the bus station, promptly at 2:30am, I’m pleased to see that the bus is a motor coach. The seats are very empty and there are only three or four people standing by the bus. This might not be so bad after all. I step onto the bus to select the perfect seat and that’s where the nightmare begins. The bus is full. Everyone is sleeping on the seats and on the floors. There are bags of potatoes, rice, suit cases, boxes piled everywhere. I want to cry. I want to check my bag in the boot so I wait outside for someone with authority to arrive and assist me. That happens around 3:30am… thirty minutes after we were scheduled to leave. Oh, and the person that helped me was there along. He was sleep on the bus and didn’t wake up until 3:30am. I find what I feel is a good seat at the front of the bus with decent leg room for a long ride. Wrong. The bus proceeds to stop every 20 minutes and pick up more people. Two men just board with a saw the full length of the aisle of the bus, another family squeezes on with chicken, the girl sitting next to me is sound asleep and has her whole head on my shoulder and someone has their bags sitting on my feet. To distract myself from the uncomfortable situation, I decide to call my friend Maria, who is in Botswana, to touch base on our upcoming plans to meet. In the middle of our conversation, the bus driver lays into the horn which resembles something from the “Dukes of Hazard” car only ten times louder. Maria laughs hysterically. This pattern is repeated several times before we decide to give up. Even though there are no seats left on the bus, we stop to pick-up more passengers. It is at this time that a bus from a competing company passes. The four employees on our bus become outranged. I don’t know what they are saying, but they are not happy. All of a sudden we take off. The four employees begin shouting back and forth, searching ahead for what I assume is the bus that passed us. The bus is now going extremely fast, we are a high mountain road (and it’s a long way down!) and it’s raining. This is the most frighten I have been on my journey so far. We spot the other bus, change into the opposite lane, and pass. The employees all jump with joy and cheer loudly. I’m just glad it’s over. We stop at the next town and finally some people get off; however, the bus aisles become flooded with venders selling everything from mystery meat on a stick, bottles of water, bananas, shoes, watches, socks, meds, anything you can think of. I look at my watch and realize the seven hour journey is just about over and we are nowhere near my end destination. When I ask the bus driver what time we are expected to arrive the time I am now given is 2pm, making this total ride from hell eleven hours!!! Eventually I do reach my bus stop of Fort Portal and as quickly as I can find a taxi to take me Kibale National Park. As soon as see the forest I am put at ease. Finally I’m back… back in the forest.

2008-08-24T09:50:00.000-04:00

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Gorilla Trekking in Uganda.... WOW!

2008-08-24T09:36:00.001-04:00

I had purchased a gorilla trekking permit from the Uganda Wildlife Authority several months ago. I actually got lucky. Most people need to book as much as a year in advance to secure their preferred dates. I am impressed with the strict regulations and guidelines the UWA has developed to protect and insure the safety of the endangered mountain gorillas. There are only three place in the world where you can find these beautiful animals; Uganda, Rwanda and the Congo. Sadly, there only 700 remaining. Uganda has armed soldiers surrounding the forest and along the border to insure the safety of their gorilla families. Unfortunately, it is not the same in the Congo where there is currently a civil war going on in the very jungle where there is the largest number of mountain gorillas in the world; it was recently announced that four were found dead having been killed in the cross fire. I guess we’re down to 696 now. Only eight people at a time are allowed to observe a family of gorillas and your time with them is limited to one hour. You can take photos, but no flash. Its about a 45 minute drive from camp to the base of the rain forest where we meet our porters and begin our trek. My porter is Moses. He carries my backpack that contains four bottles of water, lunch, rain gear, towel, and camera. Doesn’t sound like much, but when you are climbing straight up a wet mountain with no path, Moses became my new best friend. Before reaching the forest we wound our way through small villages were the children were happy to great us. Their houses were set in the middle of rows and rows of banana palms. The guide informs us that occasionally the gorillas will come out of the forest to raid the banana plantations. The villagers will gather and play drums and other homemade instruments to scare them back into the forest. It reminds me of the movie “King Kong” where it is just the opposite. There, the villagers play music and sing to get Kong to come out of the forest. Once we enter the forest the real trekking begins. Our guide communicates via radio with the guards on the exact location of the family my group of eight are assigned to visit. We follow him straight up the mountain. After over two hours of trekking, we are told that the family of 24 has been separated and they are on the move trying to locate each other. Great. Off we go. The vines become so dense as we climb, men (I don’t even no where they came from) pull out machetes and start clearing a “path” so we can continue our climb. Then, we hear them. A deep, almost tenor like, call. I get a burst of energy and move to the front of our group. Next thing I know Mr. Machete is hacking away with three or four swings, then pulling me up behind him, hacking away three or four swings, pulling me up behind him. Is this for real?! I didn’t care. I was close and I knew it. The rest of the group was struggling to get up the mountain. Nothing was going to stop me, even if I had to recruit the help of Mr. Machete. Let me tell you this… it was worth every bit of the challenging. There he was, the silver back mountain gorilla resting on his back eating leaves. The leader of the family. He looked straight at me as if to say, “What took you so long?” I didn’t even take a photo for awhile. I just watched him. I couldn’t believe I was only 10ft. away. I wanted to throw my arms around him and say, “It’s me, Kelly! Meeting you in person has been my dream! I’ve read so many books about you and watched movies and documentaries and I never, ever thought I would have the opportunity to visit you in your home… your REAL home. And, I get to meet your family!” Not sure if he could sense the fact that I wanted to hug him but it was at that moment he stood up and decided to charge me. His charge was complemented with a King Kong type roar. I don’t think he’s the hugging type. The guide was standing next to me and I had been given instructions on what to do if this happens. The instructions were, “whatever you do, don’t run. And, don’t look him straight in the eye”. First of all, after climbing straight up a mountain for three hours I was so tired I couldn’t even walk let alone run. And, for some odd reason I didn’t feel afraid. I knew he just wanted to let us know that he is the boss and this is his territory. Hey, no problem here. You can have this damn mountain. All together there were about 10 members of the family of 24. The babies were the most fun to watch. They also seemed to be interested in our group. It was difficult to take pictures because the jungle is so dark and we are not allowed to use a flash. I managed to get a couple of decent shots, but mostly I just wanted to live in the moment. Not spend my whole hour taking photos, but to enjoy the time I had being with them in their natural habitat.

2008-08-24T09:33:00.000-04:00

2008-08-24T09:29:00.000-04:00

2008-08-24T09:22:00.000-04:00

The Road to Bwindi National Park

2008-08-24T09:20:00.001-04:00

Great Lakes Safari had arranged a driver to pick me up at the Inn. When the driver, Aaron, informs me that the drive to Bwindi National Park will take about 10 hours I almost die. I’m not very good with sitting still that long. He says, “We’ll have fun!” I think to myself, “Fun? What does he have in mind? The licenses plate game? Punching each other every time we see a VW bug?” As we begin our drive, Aaron gives me a rundown of the drive. We will be stopping at the Equator, (huh?) then for lunch, then soon after we will lose the tarmac (say what?), and continue our journey through some small villages until we reach the park. Actually, it doesn’t sound too bad. When we arrive to the equator it has “tourist trap” written all over it. There is a line painted across the road with a giant ring off to the side. On top of the ring is a sign that reads, “Equator”. Yeah, right. Like that’s the exact spot where the equator is. Well, to prove that it really is the exact line of the equator, a gentleman provides me with a little demonstration. On the North side of the line he places a funnel. He fills the funnel with water and places a flower at the top. As the water drains out of the funnel, the flower circles to the left. He moves the funnel one foot over the equator line on the South side, performs the same demonstration and the water and flower drain and circle to the right. Then he puts the funnel dead even on the center of equator line. Any guess to what happens? The water and the flower drain straight down the middle, no circle motion what so ever. I’m impressed. This really is the exact location of the equator. So, I decide this is worthy of the cheesy touristy photo of me standing on the equator line.

After a few more hours of driving and a fantastic, traditional Ugandan lunch, we begin to lose the tarmac. This is when the joy ride really begins. Children from everywhere are running to get as close as they can to the truck to wave and shout, “Hello” to the “Muzungu” (white person). We are on a dirt road that very seldom sees a vehicle. One little boy screams as loud as he can, “HOW ARE YOU?”, and then smiles at his accomplishment. Aaron and I both laugh. Aaron was right; I am having a great time.

2008-08-24T09:11:00.000-04:00

Rafting the Nile

2008-08-23T08:46:00.000-04:00

Lake Victoria, here in Uganda, is the living source for The Nile River. If you jump on in Uganda and ride it out, you will end up in Egypt. I had signed up with a company called Adrift to spend a full day white water rafting this legendary river. My goal? Not to end up in Egypt. The rafts were to launch in a town called Jinja, but I was instructed to meet the company bus in downtown Kampala. This would give me the opportunity to assess my rafting teammates. After all, these are people you will be relying on to keep your raft from flipping over and to pull you back into the raft when deadly rapids are determined to suck the last breath out of you. The first person I meet is Fredrik. I quickly interview him to see if I want him to be in my raft: He is from Sweden and has only been rafting once. “I wouldn’t really call what I did white water rafting”. Strike one. Then I find out he is a mountaineer who has just concurred Mt. Rwenzori. Perfect. He is athletic and has endurance. He makes the cut and I decide he will be in my raft. Together we walk to the upper level parking lot to find the bus and along with the other “candidates”. I stop dead in my tracks when I see them. The bus is filled with a group of juvenile delinquents fully decorated with piercings and tattoos. In hard-core British accents they are yelling, cursing and screaming at each other… they are all chain smoking, one is getting sick behind the bus, while another is taking a “wee”, as she calls it. We’re all going to die. Other than Fredrik and myself, there are only two other people not with the juvies, a young English man and his girlfriend from Kenya. Now, the girl from Kenya is as thin as a toothpick and she has on an outfit that you would expect to see in a club, complete with high-heals and she has never been rafting. The situation continues to get worse. I try to relax and enjoy the scenery as we pass through the rural villages. When we arrive to our launch base camp I see a glimmer of hope, new potential team mates. While the juvies are all protesting that breakfast should be included in the cost of the trip, I pull aside the manager of the Adrift and say, “if at all possible, we really would rather not be put on the same rafting team as the young-ones.” He kindly smiled and said I was not the first to make that request. I’m not sure if Fredrik realized yet that I was speaking for him, but dam it I had found one qualified teammate and I was not about to be separated from him. Then, I noticed that the new people only had five members. There was room for two more people on their raft. It was either me and Fredrick or the English guy and his Kenyan girlfriend. Fredrik quickly picked-up on my strategy when he noticed that I was staying close to the group of five. He shot me a knowingly look and a smile and came to join me. It worked… the guide put us in with the group of five! First up is to meet our teammates. After introducing ourselves, we share in our relief of not have to be in the same raft with the juvies. We have a fun group of seven all around the same age. Believe it or not, mostly American women who were visiting a friend working in Uganda. She had brought along a colleague, Troy from England, who together with Fredrik gave our raft a bit more testosterone. We spent over an hour practicing safety techniques… jumping in and out of the raft, developing a strategy on getting the team back in, what to do if you are caught under the raft, what to do if the raft flips, etc. I have been rafting four times now and have never taken this much time to review safety procedures. I also noticed there was more rescue kayakers present than on any other rafting trip. The kayakers are there for your safety. They paddle ahead of the raft so if you fall out, they are right there for you. After our safety procedures are completed to our guide’s satisfaction, we get a briefing on the river. White water rapids are broken down into six classes; class one being very easy… you don’t even need a helmet. Class six is extremely difficult and your raft is guaranteed to flip. During our overview the guide explains that we will be hitting five class fives. Did I hear him correctly? Five? I’ve never completely three in one trip and that was when I became a member of the Zambezi swim team. It was at that very moment I accepted the fact that I would also become a member of The Nile Swim Team. Well, they waste no time warming you up. The first rapid we hit is a class five. Sort of like Victoria Falls, you can hear them before you see them. We are instructed to stay to the right if we fall in, because off to the left becomes a class six and you can get stuck in a “wash machine”. The guide speaks as if flipping out of the raft is inevitable. I feel even more discourage when the whole village is gathered to watch the rafts at this very point. No sooner do we hit this monstrous wave, our guide yells, “GET DOWN IT”, which is our signal to kneel in the raft and hold on for dear life. It doesn’t work. We are first tossed around in our rubber saucer from wave to wave before The Nile reaches in and takes us one by one. Despite being on the left side on the boat, I was so determined to avoid “the wash machine” that I swam under the raft to the right side. At this point I was close enough to the shore to stand on a rock and just jump back in the boat… thanks to my Keen Hybrids. They earned their value on this trip. No time to admire my shoes, more rapids to come. In between navigating the rapids, we are blessed with beautiful landscapes, small islands, diverse birds, villagers using The Nile to wash their clothes; we even surprise a few boys who are soaped down and taking a bath. Well, at the end of our journey, we are a bit water-logged and we’ve drank plenty of The Nile, but we all agree, we had the time of our lives. Back at the bus I’m surprised to see that all the juvies survived as well. I try and see if Fredrik and I can catch a ride back to Kampala with our rafting team mates and avoid the juvie bus, but unfortunately there is no room in their small van. Fredrick and I decide if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em. We grab a couple of Nile beers and get to know the rough bunch in between their footballer songs. All in all they are just a group of teenagers who’ve had a rough start in life and are trying to sort it all out. Still wouldn’t want to be in raft with them, but having a beer with them ended up being not so bad after all.

2008-08-23T08:43:00.000-04:00

Rafting the Zambezi in Zimbabwe

2008-08-23T08:41:00.000-04:00

2008-08-23T08:39:00.000-04:00

2008-08-23T08:34:00.000-04:00

Settling into Uganda

2008-08-21T12:59:00.000-04:00

WOW… the difference between Uganda and Zimbabwe could not be more different. I could notice this before the plane even landed. The land here in Uganda is very green, lush and tropical. There is also a more upbeat and positive vibe in the air. Driving from the airport, the first shops I see are “Smiley’s Bakery and Coffee Shop” and “Tickle and Giggles Restaurant and Bar”. How can you not feel happy? Then we pass a giant truck load of pineapple. I’m going to like it here! As we continue our drive, the streets become energized with stall after stall of everything to suit your needs. You can get your hair braided in one, then go next door and get your groove on to Reggae. Don’t like Reggae? One shop down there is techno playing so loud the speakers are blown, but that doesn’t stop the few people in the 10x10 stall from dancing. After a little dancing, hit the next stall and pick-up a chicken for dinner. You can get it all done on the streets of Uganda. I’m staying in Kabalagala, which is just outside of Kampala. When the taxi driver turns off the main road to take me to the Inn where I’ll be staying, I become a bit concerned when it’s blocked by a steer with the longest, sharpest horns I have ever seen. I mean, this is still the city. The Inn appears to be behind a row of shops on the main street mixed in with some very underdeveloped shacks and a mix of farm animals. I begin to miss my small room with a twin bed and concrete floor at Antelope Park. There at the end of the dirt road appears a glowing bamboo gate with a thatched over-hang. The taxi driver beeps, the gates open and there they are… my Ugandan family, waiting anxiously for my arrival. Betty, the Inn manager, greets me with a hug and tells me, “You are most welcome!” She explains that she was getting worried because she was expecting me sooner. I look around and the gardens are well groomed. There is an open-air restaurant and bar, spotless clean and charming run by chief, Herbert. I’m shown to my room on the upper level and I’m very pleased.
It’s my first night having to sleep under a mosquito net. There is something romantic about sleeping under a mosquito net… until you get up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night and forget it’s there. After a victorious battle with the mosquito net, I rise the next morning eager to explore my new surroundings. My second battle, well assumed battle, is with the giant prehistoric bird that swoops past my head as I exit my room. I later find out that this intimidating bird is a stork. Certainly doesn’t resemble the maternal image portrayed on baby shower announcements in America. After a fantastic breakfast prepared by my new friend and cook Herbert, whom I’m looking forward to introducing you to in another posting, I head up to Great Lake Safari to confirm the details for my upcoming gorilla trekking expedition. While there, I decide to book a day of white rafting on Nile… after all, I am an official member of the Zambezi swim team. Bring on The Nile! Let’s just hope my next posting doesn’t come Egypt.

2008-08-21T12:54:00.000-04:00

A Piece of Civilization

2008-08-15T06:37:00.001-04:00

August 3, 2008

After living in the bush for a couple of months in a country that would never allow me to make a phone call or use my credit card or even dry my hair half the time, I made the decision that I was going to spend the weekend in Johannesburg. Johannesburg, or as most people refer to it, Jo’burg, is as close to modern civilization as you’re going to get in Africa. In Zimbabwe I was sleeping in a twin bed in a small room with a concrete floor and thatched roof. I would have cat called, “Anti-Christ” slip through my window and crawl in bed with me at night, an impala try to sneak in my room and steal my granola bars (those of you who know me know I didn’t mind this very much). I would take a shower outside in the freezing cold. At night I would sleep in half my wardrobe just to keep warm. This was a big adjustment for a high-maitance urban girl. So I thought I would treat myself to little bit a luxury. Nothing too fancy, I didn’t want to set myself back too far. I found myself a nice hotel/village not far from the airport. I had a mini-apartment complete with everything I was looking for… big bed, lounge, in-room internet service, desk, mini-kitchen and (drum roll, please) my own private BIG bathroom… Italian marble tiles, bathtub and walk-shower…HEAVEN! Guess what I did my first night? I order room service! A personal pizza with CHEESE, real CHEESE! I haven’t had cheese in almost two months! AND… A Coke Light! Hey, it’s not Diet Coke, but I’m night complaining. In my little piece of Heaven I was able to sort out my Visa card, book my flight to Uganda and make my hotel arrangements, finally talk to my Grandmother, Skype-talk with friends for close to an hour, fax documents to my mortgage company… basically everything I couldn’t do in Zimbabwe.

Now that I’m sorted out… Uganda here I come!

Farewell Zimbabwe

2008-08-15T04:30:00.000-04:00

Knowing I wouldn’t have the secure umbrella and excursion planning skills of the expert team at Antelope Park, I knew it was in my best interest to arrive in Uganda a good week prior to my gorilla tracking safari just to get my bearings on my new environment. Saying “Goodbye” to the friends I had made in Zimbabwe was not easy. I was leaving knowing I may never see them again, but also feeling very concerned about their future. I had more than a connection to the country, I had a connection to the animals which I care so much about, but more importantly, the people who I now care very much for.
I thank all of you for challenging me on my decision to not only go to Zimbabwe, but to spend such a long period of time in a country stricken with such poverty and political instability. Your concern for my safety and wellbeing truly meant a lot to me. Please know that going to Zim was not just about petting the cute lions. Believe it or not, this can be done in several countries. It was about being part of the ALERT team and volunteering at an orphanage IN Zimbabwe. There are so many countries, especially in Africa, that need volunteers. I couldn’t think of children anywhere needing help and love more at this time than in a country where a self proclaimed president was prohibiting this act of kindness and support. Before leaving California I had a conversation with a colleague, Pia from The Sacramento Bee’s Editorial Board. She was giving me some great advice, “whatever you do, don’t share your political views once you’re in Zimbabwe”. I assured her that that was not my objective or my business. As my friend Aaron was driving me to the airport in Harare, he purposely drove me passed the home of President Robert Mugabe. I felt such a rage of anger. I wanted to jump on the roof of the van and demand he come out and listen to what I had to say. I wanted to force him to look at the pictures of the children in the orphanage that receive NO support from his government. I wanted to inform him that hundreds of children are turned away from the orphanage each month due to lack of availability. I wanted to show him pictures of how Virginia’s family and most of the children don’t have shoes and the ones that do don’t fit. I wanted to show him a picture of my friend who works on the cleaning staff and her sweet baby boy, Julius who is ill and tell him how she can’t afford his doctor bill and medication… $20. I wanted to tell him about the lion handlers who show up for work every day even though their salary doesn’t cover their cost of living due to the out of control inflation rate. They usually rely on tips from tourist to help get by but the tourist have stop coming. I want to tell him about the abandon cottages at the once world renowned Hwange National Park and how all but one of the watering holes are now empty... YOU’RE KILLING YOUR WILD GAME! I no longer want to have a conversation with this man; I wanted a go at him. I became convinced that I can take him. After all, he’s 85 and short. If I can somehow get him alone, I’m pretty sure I can take him. Instead, I took a deep breath and watched the compound pass by feeling defeated, unable to do anything. I hated that feeling. Although I couldn’t remove Mugabe and fix all of Zimbabwe’s problems, I am trying to accept that I made a small difference. My Grandmother’s neighbor, Mrs. Sigler kindly gave me some money and ask that I help others in need, so I paid for baby Julius’ doctor bill. With the contributions from the Nordberg and Deliondardo families we managed to smuggle-in two large duffels of clothing to the orphanage. I also made small donations to several members of the staff, none of which ask for a penny. I went to the orphanage every opportunity I had to help out. Mainly to just hold and play with the children who never receive this sort of attention. What I’ve noticed about my new friends from Zimbabwe is they have been kicked hard and they are worn down. You can tell when you talk to them that some are at the end of their rope. The best thing I felt I could do is be positive and give them hope. I would speak with strong confidence, as if I knew something they didn’t, of how I was certain that positive change is coming very soon to Zimbabwe.
If there is one think I want all of you to know about Zimbabwe is there was never one time that I felt unsafe. And, it is a beautiful country with loving and caring people. People who care about the decline of the African lion and are working effortlessly to reverse the situation; People that greet you with smiles and hugs each day even though they don’t know if they’ll be able to pay their bills or feed their families; People who shed a tear when it comes time for you to leave. These are the people hidden behind the headlines of the media. I will sometimes hear people say, “I wouldn’t go to Zimbabwe and support that backwards government”. Forget the government, who really suffers in a statement like that are the people.
Farewell Zimbabwe. Thank you for the life lessons, new friends, hope for the future, memories and amazing experiences I will cherish for the rest of my life.

Party Zim Style

2008-08-06T10:34:00.000-04:00

One of the greatest things about volunteering and staying at Antelope Park for such a long period of time is the fact that you get to know the local staff on a personal level. Take Virginia for example. Several members of her family work at the park and her parents live just outside of the entrance gate. Virginia works in laundry. She actually makes doing laundry fun. A few of us at the park were invited to her parent’s house for a traditional Zimbabwe celebration. The day before the party, Sheila, a member of the cook staff gave us Shauna and Ndebele lessons. These are the two languages spoken in Zim. The lessons were too much fun! She would have us sing the vowels in both languages. The shy ones in the group were mortified. Me, I proudly belted out the unfamiliar sounds. Hans from Iceland was my conversation partner and he would have to sing with me. We had the rest of the group crying with laughter. Can you imagine it? A Baltimore-Hon accent, paired with an Icelandtic accent, singing African vowels? Could have been a Saturday Night Live skit. When we arrived to the celebration I could get by with the basic greeting and sing my vowels and that was pretty much it. When our truck pulled into the entrance we were greeted by over twenty children, all part of the family. They were smiling and waving so hard I thought their little arms would fall off. This is one BIG family. You see, Virginia’s dad has two wives. Or, as Virginia explains, she has two moms, a birth mom and her “other mom”. In Zimbabwe it is legal to have more than one wife. She also has a dozen, or more brothers and sisters. Add their children to this gathering and we had ourselves quite a party. And party it was… no time was wasted. The boys grabbed the men in the group to show them how to play the drums, while Virginia’s mom, birth mom, began to sing and dance to a traditional welcome song. Before you knew it, we were all being pulled in and taught the steps. Homemade beer was being pasted around… I forgot the name, maybe because it was SO strong. Then, we were taught how to make sudsa, a staple in a Zimbabwe meal. It’s finely ground maze that doesn’t have much of a flavor, but is usually served with some type of sauce. Before serving the meal, the women are instructed to wash the men’s hands. I thought the men from AP would eat this up but they actually looked uncomfortable when I brought over the pale of water. It is also the women’s responsibility to serve the men their dinner... on bent knee. I think I need more of the home brew. Then I was told the women needed to go and collect firewood. What?! I wanted to protest...rally the Zim women to stand up for their rights but all I could do is sing my vowels. So off I went to help collect firewood.

2008-08-06T07:54:00.000-04:00

2008-08-06T07:42:00.001-04:00

2008-08-06T07:36:00.000-04:00

New Cubs Arrive!

2008-08-06T07:28:00.000-04:00

July 26, 2008

We return to Antelope Park from our road trip to exciting news. Although Lu Lu still hasn’t given birth, we are expecting new cubs. ALERT has come across an opportunity to rescue-purchase three cubs from a canned hunting breeding facility. There are two, four month old cubs that have been kept in a small enclosure and one, nine month cub that has been house raised. The man who owns the facility has grown a bit attached to the house raised cub, Sariah, and doesn’t want to turn her over to the hunting camp. I can’t believe this asshole actually has a soft spot. The story goes, he lost his wife a year ago and Sariah became his companion but now is starting to get too big. Sariah is too human and not enough lion. When we first gave her meat, she didn’t know how to get the skin off. The lion handler actually had to cut it off for her. Can you say “spoiled”? She also thinks she is a lap cat. If you sit down, she wants to sit on you. We let this behavior slide the first two days. We figure too much change may send her into a depression. But now it’s time to learn to be a lion. She’s been teamed up with the leader of the S group. Sahara. It was not a pretty introduction. Sahara was excited to meet her to friend. Sariah? Not so much. After of few days of growling and snarling they became buds. The plan is to have them out walking in the bush together by the end of the week.

Now, let’s talk about the three month old cubs, Barbed and Razor, a.k.a The Gremlins. These were their given names and plan to be changed. Why Barded and Razor you ask? Well, their father was found caught in a poacher’s snare. Don’t let the cute little faces fool you. When I first met these two I never thought such evil sounds could come out of such little bodies. You would have thought they were auditioning for the next filming of The Exorcist. I was more afraid of them than the big boys up at the breeding program. I sat with them the day after they arrived. Believe it or not, after a couple of hours I could actually touch them. The next day they were sitting in my lap. I would not have bet a penny that this would be the case. Look at ‘em. You have to admit… they’re cute as hell. And to think they were originally being hand raised to be hunted. If this isn’t a reason to support ALERT, I don’t know what is. www.lionalert.org

2008-08-06T07:16:00.000-04:00

2008-08-06T07:03:00.000-04:00

Chindu Island

2008-08-05T07:08:00.000-04:00

July 24, 2008
Mr. Conlley, owner of Antelope Park, purchased land on an island in the middle of the Zambezi just outside of Vic Falls. The name is Chindu Island and he is planning to build a five star resort on the property next year. In the meantime our little road trip group had an opportunity to camp on the island. I use the word “camp” very loosely. You see, we were served our dinner that evening on china. Get the picture? We drove through the national park for about forty minutes passing all kinds of game. My favorite… a herd of seven giraffe including a baby who could just about fit under its mom’s legs. Our van or min-bus as they are called was pulling a small trailer that held our luggage and some supplies for the island. The roads through the park were more holes than road. One item I did not bring on this journey that I wish I would have is a good support bra. We were only the second group from Antelope Park to stay at Chindu Island and our instructions were to follow the main “road” to the end and wait for the boat to pick us up. Several “ends to the road” were identified. The road completely disappears. Our driver, guardian, and friend Aaron takes the mini-bus, trailer in tow, all through the bush chasing off a herd of kudu to reach the edge of the water. Somehow we manage to find our “parking spot” and a bass-fishing-type-boat zips across to retrieve its skeptical quests. All skepticism disappears as we approach the shore. Steps are built into the white beach hill and are lit with candles to lead our way. On the landing I notice a fire ring… with a bamboo bar! I’m going to like it here! Our tents are spacious and cots comfy. There are even flushing toilets and showers in their own tented enclosure. After a sunset cruise and a dinner Rachael Ray would approve , we gather around the fire before retiring to our waterfront accommodations. I chicken out on taking a shower as I keep having visions of the baboons grubby little hands (that was for your Baz) reaching under the shower tent and grabbing my feet. I’m put to sleep that evening by the songs of the hippos…. directly outside of my tent. We wake early and are taken out for a sunrise cruise. Who needs a five star resort? I like Mr. Connelly’s property just the way it is now.

2008-08-05T06:45:00.000-04:00

Crossing the Border to Botswana for the Day

2008-08-05T06:36:00.000-04:00

July 25, 2008

Not far from Victoria Falls is the border of Botswana and one of Animal Plant’s most featured game parks, Chobe. How could I be so close and not pay a visit? The rest of my fellow travelers felt the same way… so off we went with passports in hand to spend the day at Chobe National Park on safari. Before arriving to the park we passed a small town. It was very clear we were no longer in Zimbabwe. There were no lines at the banks, all of the stores were open and shoppers were exiting with bags stuffed with goods. The real surprise was waiting for us in the park. Wildlife everywhere… and in large quantities. You would just see one hippo, you would see hundreds of hippos, same with eles, stable, crocs…. Oh My God, the Crocs! The highlight had to have been the performance by the eles. After a beautiful game drive around the park and along the beach, we were dropped off at a dock to board a boat for a safari lunch cruise. The boat would take us straight up to crocs, hippo and buffalo. At one point, a herd of elephant decided to cross the river as we were passing. They swan directly in front of our boat. I could have reached out and touched one of them. As they were making their way across, a few were playing by trying to push each other and squirt one another with water. What a show. I really think they were showing off. Another special treat was spotting wild lions. We all agreed that Chobe exceeded our expectations. This little taste of Botswana has me looking forwarding to coming back in a couple of months to experience Maun and the Okavango Delta. The Delta has a lot to live up to after Chobe. I look forward to the comparison.

2008-08-05T06:30:00.000-04:00