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 African Continent |
| "My East Africa" Part 2
In 1972, an American couple and their two teenage children discover East Africa on a once-in-a-lifetime safari adventure. By Mary Ashcraft & Rod Lopez-Fabrega |
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Enthralled by Joy Adamson's "Born Free" vision of the vanishing magic and mythology of East Africa and its endangered game parks, the four members of an American family of moderate means decide they cannot afford not to see this wonder for themselves. Tony Austin, 42, a recently self-employed professional, Grace Austin, suburban housewife just turned 40, and their two children, Rick, 17 and Corinne 14 make their plans months in advance. They will fly from New York to Nairobi via Paris and Rome, spend three weeks in East Africa touring on their own in a rented minivan and then return via Athens. Grace keeps a diary. |
| Saturday, August 5, 1972 Yesterday we hunted with lions. It's hard to think we can top that experience. At daybreak, a soft voice outside the entrance to our tent tells us our morning tea and toast are ready and waiting, served up neatly on the table at the entrance to our tent. We try to thank the friendly waiter, but our Swahili is limited to, Jambo (Hello.) Habari? (What's new?) as is his English. Our exchange of genuine smiles says it all. It's our last day at Seronera, and we have to get an early start. George has wandered off to do what giraffes do in the daytime. I hate to leave our tent camp this morning. It's been a treat. We hear this tented camp is going to be shut down in order to build a tourist lodge, and this may be the last of this taste of old East Africa--Progress! The birds come for breakfast crumbs, and one hops on our sugar bowl, inches away from my hand. |
 As we drive along, we see more and more wildebeest on both sides of the road and zebra and impala too. The wildebeest are something out of Dr. Doolittle: shaggy buffalo heads attached to antelope bodies, all mismatched body parts. Soon, the grasslands as far as we can see are dotted with thousands of moving wildebeest, and the sound is their plaintive mewlings amplified by tens of thousands of times. Even over the rattles of our van, we hear the unearthly chorus all around us. The sound grows louder, as more and more animals spill out onto our dirt road, crossing in front of us, wide-eyed and fearful of our strange vehicle. We are alone out there, and I pray that our not-so-faithful mini-van doesn't get temperamental.  Before long, there is a thundering herd running beside us on both sides of the road. Zebras, giraffes, impala join the wildebeest, raising a blinding cloud of dust. The impalas gallop ahead of us and leap across, frantic to avoid us. Tony stops the car, and all we can do is sit there in stunned silence as this ocean of animals surges ahead and around us. We are a small island in the middle of a turbulent, living current. After what seems like hours but is only minutes, there is a break in the torrent of animals and we inch on ahead. We pass a small Volkswagen Beetle covered with yellow dust and jammed with six wide-eyed Europeans--the only humans we've seen since we left the lodge. We stop briefly and exchange awed but inadequate comments in our broken French and their broken English. Really, what can one say? We are witnessing a fundamental event of Nature--right up there with hurricanes and earthquakes. It is very quiet inside our van as we work our way through the remaining herd and, eventually, out of the boundaries of the park. I wonder what impression all this has made on Rick and Cori. It's too soon to talk about it. As we leave the park, we stop at the control station to tell the guards we are leaving. I notice a sign at the park gate. It says, Serengeti National Park / Uendeshaji wa Pikipiki Ni Marufuku / Motorcycles Forbidden. I can't imagine riding on a pikipiki through that ocean of animal life back there. |
 It's about thirty miles on paved road B144 from the park boundary to Ngorongoro Crater, but we make a detour off the highway back on to rutted dirt roads to try to find Olduvai Gorge. That's the place where anthropologists Louis and Mary Leakey found the cranium of Zinjanthropos, the oldest human remains ever found before 1959. "Nutcracker Man" they called him. Actually, it was Mary who found the bones in a barren, dry arroyo in East Africa. Now, we were almost there to see for ourselves. We lurch along, raising more clouds of dust and finally, opening out below us as we come over a rise in the road is Olduvai Gorge. In the brilliant sun, it is all rocks and dirt in tans and grays and not very impressive, but we know it's a sort of cathedral marking what may very well be the birthplace of all mankind. The reception building is small and modest and almost bare inside. Since Olduvai was made famous by National Geographic, the site gets occasional intrepid drop-ins like ourselves, so there is a guide to take us around--and to keep an eye on us. His fingers are covered with rings, and, appropriately, his name is Mr. Ringo. |
 Mr. Ringo points out that they are still digging here and that we mustn't touch anything, but he does let me pick up and examine a rock flaked by primitive man into a crude tool. He shows us one of the dig sites clearly set up as a display with labels. We see Mary Leakey's tent in the distance, but she isn't there, so we miss our chance to meet the famous lady. On the sly, Tony cannot resist and picks up some interesting scraps from the ground and surreptitiously slides them into his pocket when Mr. Ringo's back is turned. The gods are watching, because just as we are about to leave and are saying goodbye to Mr. Ringo, Tony starts to sneeze and pulls out his handkerchief. The tidbits fall to the ground right in front of Mr. Ringo. He takes a quick look and turns his head away. Tony has picked up a fossilized antelope tooth and some worthless pebbles. Still, it is one of those moments that will bring a blush of embarrassment years late when we tell about it. |
 It is afternoon when we reach the Ngorongoro Crater. It's a tremendous caldera--the extinct crater of an ancient volcano--and inside is supposed to be one of East Africa's great collections of wild animals. The area inside the crater is more than 100 square miles. We already are suffering from sensual over-load. It's been quite a day. We head for our accommodations for the night. It's the Forest Lodge, and it turns out to be a very modest hotel run by East Indians and appears to cater mostly to locals. We drop off our stuff and decide to drive back along the rim of the crater to look down into the park before dark. We pile back into the van and head for the Ngorongoro Crater Lodge where we have been told there is a spectacular view. This turns out to be an elegant hotel perched right on the rim of the crater, and the view from the lodge's "Fig Tree" treehouse truly is splendid. The crater is vast--miles across--and carpeted in grasslands and forest copses. Cori points out a circular manyatta far down below us. It's the ring of thorn bushes and huts of an abandoned Maasai camp. |
 We decide to stay for dinner before we head back to our modest hotel. The Zebra steak and Tanzanian wine are very good, and our hostess is dressed in a beautiful African print dress and wrapped head scarf. She shows me how to tie my head scarf in the native manner. On the way back to our modest hotel from the elegant Crater Lodge, driving along the rim of the crater in the dark, we have yet another challenge: the headlights of our van die on us, and there we are on a narrow dirt road along the rim of a volcano, in the dark, it's downright cold, and there are animal noises all around us. The sounds are heavy, and we think it might be elephants nearby. There's a flashlight with weak batteries, and Tony and Ric get out to do their male poking at the van's innards, all the while hoping they won't be attacked by annoyed pachyderms. In the dim light, we see giant shadow shapes crossing the road in front of the van. A fast kick at the van's innards--apparently in the right place--and the headlights flicker on long enough to let us lurch to the hotel. |
 Monday, August 7, 1972 It turns out this morning that we need a special guide and vehicle to take us into the crater. Tony makes the arrangements and eventually a driver in a spiffy Land Rover shows up and drives us to the rim of the crater. There, he tells us that we can't go down the main road because President Julius Neyerere of Tanzania is down there escorting some visiting dignitaries. So, we are transferred on to a dilapidated old four-wheel-drive Toyota for the trip down the walls of the crater on a precipitous winding side road. Only one window opens, and there is a layer of dust on the home-made plastic seat covers. The driver informs us cheerfully that he is new on the job. Well, we make it to the crater floor, and we see lions, bat-eared foxes, crested cranes, Egyptian vultures, rhino, buffalo and at least six or eight tourist-laden Land-Rovers chasing after cheetahs who look as though they would like nothing better than to be left alone. It must be the president's party, but we forgive him for monopolizing his Ngorongoro Crater. President Nyerere is a world-class leader, respected internationally for his honesty and effectiveness as one of Africa's greatest leaders. We spend another cold night in the Forest Lodge. Early in the morning we have a light breakfast and share the cool morning with a mother rhino and her calf as they nose around at the other end of the garden. |
 We check out and head away from Ngorongoro on the main highway, past Lake Manyara, and on through Maasai country to Arusha. It turns out to be a "proper city," and the New Arusha Hotel is a "proper" hotel—that is to say, decorative swimming pool, amenities, the whole thing. There are Pomegranate bushes outside our rooms, and the gardens are colorful with roses, poinsettias, marigolds, mums, cosmos, bougainvillea, hydrangeas and more. It's a nice change of pace for us, though already we miss our tented camp at Seronera. The four of us visit the Maasai market in Arusha. Women have spread their farm produce around on blankets, and there are colorful mounds of beans, grain, vegetables as well as some unrecognizable roots. There also are covered stalls with pots and pans, knives, sewing threads and row upon row of hanging fabrics in marvelous prints. Tony almost bumps into two Maasai men in full warrior regalia and carrying spears. There's a certain arrogance about their body language that demands respect. It turns out that they are shopping for fabrics themselves, and it becomes clear that these very fabric panels are what these proud and handsome people wrap around themselves as a sort of toga. |
| Tuesday, August 8, 1972 This morning we head north again and taking a few side roads, cross back into Kenya at a town with a wonderful name that just rolls off the tongue: Oloitokitok. During the last few days we have been all around the foothills of Mount Kilimanjaro, and most of the time, its peaks have been covered with clouds. We are determined to see this magical mountain once again before leaving the area. On the way, we are flagged down by a lone Maasai, wrapped in his ochre toga and carrying a spear. He mentions the name of a town we know is on our way. We see he is asking us for a ride. We invite him to climb in, and the children make way for him in the back seat, and he squeezes in between them, carefully holding his spear upright. Is this a good idea? I can see the apprehension in the children's faces, but that is dispelled as he and we struggle for friendly cross-cultural communication. We come to his town and let him off. Before parting, he takes my hand and says something in Maasai and finishes with, "Mama." I understand his courtesy. We drive on and find the Oloitokitok Ministry of Tourism, and one of the attendants offers to go with us to the local Outward Bound School. They are courteous at the school, and the British manager tells us all about their endurance courses, but can't do much about making the clouds part over the mountain's twin peaks.  We take it on ourselves to get as close to the mountain as we can, so we take more back roads and cross back into Tanzania without going through a border post. Tony and Rick confer over our road map, and decide on trying a narrow logging road that seems headed for the mountain. We drive through the forests at the base of the mountain and notice the trees slowly changing as we gain elevation until we are in a pine forest. The roads are wet and slippery and there are some scary moments with steep drops on either side. Finally, the road turns into a footpath, and we can go no further in the van. We stop and get out to stretch and to admire the cool pine grove and the mists blowing across the treetops. We pick up pine cones and shake the seeds out to save. Wouldn't it be great to take them home and plant them and have a living memory of Africa? Tony has some powdered insecticide, and we put the seeds in a small plastic pill container and sprinkle them with the powder--just in case We drive down the mountain and back into Kenya and the Amboseli Game Park. We spend that night and the next day and night in the Amboseli Safari Camp. It is also a tented camp, but bigger and more touristy than Seronera. There's even hot and cold running water in the bathroom part of our tent. My feeling is that Seronera Camp was real and Amboseli Camp is more Hollywood. We have a contingent of German tourists as neighbors, and they are up early in the morning doing calisthenics with much loud huffing and puffing. Monkeys are everywhere, looking for handouts. The animal watching in Amboseli is not too great either. The land is parched and barren, and dust devils make little tornadoes, raising miniature yellow funnel-shaped clouds. . |
 Thursday, August 10, 1972 We head out for Tsavo West and Kilaguni Lodge, our home for the next few nights. Tsavo is Kenya's biggest game park and also is known as "the elephant park," and we are looking forward to seeing more of those gentle giants. We are reminded by road signs that "the elephants have the right of way." The drive is interesting, and we pass great lava fields from hundred-year-old eruptions. It is not easy to forget that the Rift Valley is geologically active. It is a gigantic tectonic fault line capped with a string of volcanoes that literally cut Kenya in half. Fortunately, just about all of them are dormant. We cross the Shitani Mountains and have a splendid view of Tsavo. From the windows of our van we can see distant herds of zebra, wildebeest and giraffe, and the air is fresh and cool. Even from up here we can see the movements of the grass-carpeted plains as breezes make giant ripples across the savannah.   Kilaguni is quite a handsome lodge, and we are happy to be "tourists" once more. The lodge's dining area is a long terrace built to overlook a water hole where we are told the elephants come to bathe in the afternoon. We have a cabin to ourselves with two large apartments, one for us and one for the kids. Porches look out to the mountains and the water hole. The beds are covered with mosquito netting, and huge windows look out over Africa. We take it easy and have an early dinner. The promise of lots of elephant-sized wildlife was not exaggerated. From the dining area, by 5:00 pm there already are 18 elephants and three Cape buffalo. By 6:30 we are joined by 32 elephants and a dozen impalas, and later on two rhinos appear. |
 Friday, August 11, 1972 Our first venture of the day is to drive to Mzima Springs to see the hippos. It is all very well organized. We learn that over a hundred million gallons of crystal-clear water pour down from the Chyulu Hills every day filling the pools and making them a great place for hippos and crocodile as well as a choice watering hole for all kinds of wildlife. We also learn that Mzima provides the main water supply for the great coastal city of Mombasa. There is an observation platform with an underwater glassed-in room where one can see the action under the surface of the springs. We don't see any hippos or crocodiles, but we do see plenty of Tilapia, a freshwater fish that we are told makes for great eating. In the early afternoon, after lunch at the lodge, we go animal watching with the mandatory guard driving our van. We see more birdlife than any place we have been: Secretary birds with their strange long legs, ostriches, Guinea Hens, and many more I can't name. Our guide does find us a lion hunt. We stop the car and in hushed expectation, see a very young and inexperienced lioness stalk several grazing antelope--even from a distance we can see the cub markings on her fur. For a very long time, we watch her crouching low in the grasses as the unwary antelope graze closer and closer. She peeks at them with her nose and eyes just in sight. Finally, she makes her move and springs for the nearest antelope. She does it clumsily, and the antelope makes a clean escape. Our guide points out that lions aren't really great hunters, and this youngster was just learning. Her survival depends on learning quickly. |
 Saturday, August 12, 1972 At breakfast, we are told by the staff that we must visit Shitani Mountain and the lava tunnel that one can explore. It's a short drive to the Chyulu Hills gate and to Shitani Mountain. From there we are able to walk to the lava caves and the tunnel. The staff has told us before hand that the thing to do on entering the caves is to leave an offering of milk for the spirits that haunt the place. Our waiter has given us a small plastic bag filled with half a cup of milk, and we cautiously climb down the rickety ladder into this strange natural tube made by receding lavas centuries ago and carefully find a rock shelf and leave our offering. The spirits are satisfied and leave us alone, but we don't stay long, anyway. After, we hike up Shitani Mountain. There's a path and it's narrow and rocky and long but not a difficult climb. In any case, it is certainly worth the effort for a truly spectacular Cinemascope view of the vast plains all around and close by, Mount Kilimanjaro. The great mountain still keeps her cloud cover, and we are not able to see her twin peaks. Why is she hiding her face from us? That afternoon at the lodge, Tony decides the plains of East Africa would be a great place to teach our teenage son, Rick to drive. The two of them drive out around the lodge in the van and Rick takes over. Out there in the flat plains, what is there to run into? It would take a very careless zebra to be in danger from us. In any case, our young man takes to the wheel like a pro and in no time--and a few scraped gears later--Tony declares him ready for the driver training program back home. |
 Sunday, August 13, 1972 Regretfully, we leave Kilaguni Lodge this morning for the long drive to Malindi on the Indian Ocean coast of Kenya. It's a long drive through this huge park. We have been told that Tsavo Park is the size of the country of Wales! We drive for hours along the Athi River, heading east. Looking down from the road, we see huge crocodile sunning themselves on the banks of the river, and somewhere along the way, we see a field of elephant bones and go to inspect them. Tony poses, cave-man style, crouched over a huge elephant skull and brandishing a knobby bone, doing his best to look like the Dawn of Man sequence in "2001, A Space Odyssey," one of our favorite movies of all time. |
The drive through East Tsavo is hot, and the countryside is dry and barren, and there are no people or towns. We begin to feel anxious as the gas gauge in the van is getting low, and a mechanical failure out here would be a really serious problem. The Shitani spirits are with us, however, and eventually we see signs of life and a few shacks spring up along the way. Africa has been clean and cared for up to now, but as we near the coast, there is a noticeable change. The little towns are littered and the people unkempt. When we finally arrive in Malindi, we drive through some neighborhoods that look more like Arabia than Africa. A minaret on a mosque right on the beach confirms that we are in an area that was long colonized by merchants from Arabia and we are in Moslem country. In contrast, we pass through a neighborhood of beautiful homes that clearly are summer places for the well-to-do. Most of Malindi is so beautiful that it seems ripe for major development. I hope they don't spoil it. At one point Tony hits the brakes and then accelerates quickly. We've just run over a cobra crossing the road, and in a flash we see it characteristic hooded head flare up as it angrily spins around, its tail probably flattened by the car.  We end up in two modest but attractive rooms at Lawford's Hotel on the Beach for a couple of nights before heading for Mombasa and the train back to Nairobi and home. Lawford's is bare bones, but we like it anyway. It also seems to be where German charter flights end up. After all, we remember that Tanzania used to be Tanganyika and a German possession, so it is still easy and economical for Germans to come to this part of East Africa. They elbow their way into the dining room at tea time, scooping up all the cakes and cookies in a way that puts us off. The native staff looks on woodenly. They long ago stopped being surprised at the strange behavior of white folks. |
 Tuesday, August 15, 1972 Our son has been learning to SCUBA dive, and here we are on the Indian Ocean. Rick and Tony are directed to the Driftwood Club, a delightful little camp/resort on the beach with a dive operation. Cori and I sun on the beach while the two men go off along with several other visiting English tourists to look for the Great White Shark. Rick is qualified for the SCUBA tanks, so he goes down to the depths with the dive guides while Tony and another guest snorkel around the dive boat. Rick doesn't find the great white, but Tony reports that he and his snorkeling companion did find themselves surrounded by a school of dozens of very curious barracudas who swam around them for a while, probably sizing them up as potential meals. |
 Wednesday, August 16, 1972 We leave Malindi regretfully, knowing we are on the last leg of our trip. We stop to inspect the Gedi ruins, an ancient Arab settlement probably prosperous during the days of the slave trade in East Africa. The drive down the coast is pleasant and fast, and we are in Mombasa before noon. We won't be there very long--just long enough to look around a bit, have a leisurely lunch and head for the train station for the night train from Mombasa to Nairobi. Mombasa is multi-ethnic city, but the Arab influence predominates. We see many traditional Arab dhows in the harbor, those boats with their signature sails that look like inverted triangles, and there are many Swahili women in their black gowns and veils hurrying through the narrow streets. We have a comfortable lunch in the Ocean View Hotel and then make a visit to the old Portuguese fort that dominates the harbor. |
We return our zebra-striped van to the rental agency. With all its coughs and sputters, it has been a dependable chariot for almost a month through a very special place in this world. We stuff ourselves and our luggage into a taxi and head for the train station. That over-night train ride will be our last adventure in Africa, and then right away we are to catch our plane back to the States. This is the very same railroad made famous by the man-eating lions of Tsavo that nearly stopped construction of the rail line by carrying off many of the workers in the late 1890's. Tony has read the chilling account of those events in the book by Lieutenant-Colonel John Henry Patterson, and he has us deliciously apprehensive. No need to worry. We find an old photo of the original locomotive, but it has been replaced by a modern engine. Our two sleeper compartments are comfortable. We have afternoon tea brought to our compartments and stare out the windows, watching the sun setting across the savannah and waving to children who wave back from their little villages as we chug past. No man-eating lions in sight! We have dinner in the dining car and head for bed early. Our sleeper beds have been turned down. It is cold during the night, and I am half-awake for several hours, lulled by the movements of the train, my mind filled with images of this extraordinary family trip I have just shared with my husband and two children. |
| Postscript: We leave Kenya and Africa for home on August 19. Just a little over a month later, on October 1, 1972, we are saddened to read in the newspapers about the death of Louis Leakey, the great anthropologist who, with his wife Mary and son Richard, reset the time line for the origins of mankind with their diggings in Olduvai Gorge in the shadow of the great mountain. It is totally unconnected, of course, but six of the Kilimanjaro pine seeds we planted right away on coming home have sprouted |
Photo Credits: Austin Family, Perfranco Dilenge (Barracudas)
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© 2002 ROMAR TRAVEL GUIDES
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