SAFARI NJEMA

The Hayton’s 2017 walkabout

The week or two leading up to our 2017 African Safari was a whirlwind of activity, and having a ‘successful’ walkabout tucked under our belt from 2016 I felt confident that only a small amount of preparation was needed.  Perhaps the best way to summarize our actual state of readiness was Jett’s passport, which expired June 20, 2017, eight days into our proposed safari.  “Lilongwe-in-a-day” cured that problem, and Jett relished time alone with his parents while procuring an emergency passport that could see him through til June 2018.

legal to move about any country...

We emptied the garage and searched for tents, sleeping mats, tarpaulin, camping pots, and car tools - for that ‘just in case’ moment. I found my nifty Makwasa grass baskets, which had been ‘made to size’ by our local weaver, and filled them with tins of baked beans, chilli, rice, pringles, coffee (of the instant variety) peanut butter, jam, spaghetti, sauce, and a smattering of snacks that we had been saving especially for this trip.  With the third row seats removed, our family of five fitted neatly into our 1995 Prado, and a quick glance at the ‘empty’ spaces gave me hope that some shopping could be done along the way…

MALAWI

Seven years in Malawi and the middle/north of the country remained a mystery to me. It was time to explore more of this landlocked gem! Our first night on the road ended at the Swartz’s house in Lilongwe where we enjoyed a delicious meal and time with friends, old and new. Connecting with the Graybills the following day at Chinteche for a night of camping by the lake shore was pre-empted by our Prado overheating for the first time ever, (the result of a cracked radiator) – but damaged radiator or not – we were going to enjoy the tepid climate and the joys of pitching a tent well before dark!

EJ, Kady, Brendan, and us...

Jett and Anna at Chinteche

The next day we drove through a rubber tree plantation and purchased some uniquely made ‘rubber’ balls, before passing through Mzuzu, out past Rumphi towards the northern mountain ranges.

Rubber Tree Forests in Malawi

Our destination for two nights was Nyika Plateau, Chelinda Camp. The road to our cabin, where a cozy fire was blazing in the fireplace seemed endless in parts – the blonde grasses of the Nyika plateau boundless in their expanse, broken only by clusters of trees and far off smoke rising from the planned burnings in the National Park. A stately Roan antelope impressed us at the turn off for Chelinda, and two bush buck didn’t flinch as we drove beside them to get to the lodge. We were arriving just on sunset, and the new night permeated a chilly breeze, which made us grateful for the warm fire Moses had constructed in our chalet. 

We spent two nights wandering the plateau, from sunrise to sunset, checking off sightings of birds and animals we had never seen before. We took the road less traveled one afternoon, the track barely visible in parts, tall grasses enveloping the Prado as we drove. When we got out of the car to exercise our legs, we were rewarded with porcupine quill ‘finds’, that eventually became a treasure hunt, embarked on by all of us, except the drivers, who couldn’t understand the fun and urged the ‘hunters’ to get back into the vehicles.  Every 10-20ft on the dirt track someone would yell, “I found another one!” and we would all cheer and search for more.

When it was time to leave Nyika we said goodbye to the Graybills and took another ‘road less traveled’ – the one down the backside of the mountain, the one with furrows so deep you could lose a tire in it, and rocks so sharp – you could suffer a puncture in microseconds. Not to mention our radiator - which we knew was broken, but had not caused problems since Ryan applied duct tape to the surface crack days before. 

Apparently, duct tape doesn’t solve all mechanical problems, and soon we were down off the plateau, back to the dusty roads where the heat of the sun could fry an egg on the bonnet. We were dodging the goats that darted onto the road, and barreling along the turns of the backyard track, up and down hills, curving our way towards Karonga. We were making good time, and would surely cross into Tanzania before dark. Climbing a hill at medium speed, I saw the temperature gauge rising and steam escaping the bonnet simultaneously. The car was overheating, again. We slowed and pulled into the shade, filled the radiator with fluids, and then crawled a little further before repeating the process again. 

By the time we made it to the border crossings, we were pressed for time. It was 5pm in Malawi and we knew if we moved quickly, being ‘clever’ people and all, we could make it through the Tanzanian border before they closed at 6pm.  “Mrs Fanta” of Malawi Revenue reminded us of the sloth in the DMV of Zootopia and when she released us at 5:58pm we sprinted into Tanzania, eager to complete the crossing.  But they were just turning out the lights at their offices, and we were out of luck. Passports were stamped but the car papers would have to wait – along with us – until morning.

Entering Nyika, northern Malawi

The Roan Antelope of Nyika Plateau

By a dam on the Nyika plateau

The early morning Nyika light, cold!

Graybills and Haytons from the Nyika lodge

Chalet Number 1 - our home for two nights

the zebra of Nyika

Running through the Nyika fields

Nyika

'Yoda' making his way through the 'road less traveled'

The last glimpses of Nyika on our descent

Leaving Nyika

TANZANIA

“There’s a border-town hotel, just take your family and stay there tonight,” the Tanzanian authorities suggested. We were mad, how could they close at 5:58pm and not allow us through!? The border town music was pumping and previous African border crossings made me hesitant to think of a border hotel as a viable option for our family.

“Can’t we just pitch our small tent inside the compound?” I asked. “That’s not allowed” He gruffly stated. “Perhaps you could just make an exception, look at these kids, let us just get them to bed, please?” I won’t say I begged, but I wasn’t giving up on the idea. “Fine. You can…” He pointed to a grassy strip under a fig tree, and told the guards what we were doing. We were grateful to be away from the activity of the town, and for comfortable bedding that was familiar to us. Ryan went to get food and make photo copies in the town, and when he returned, the rain came with him. At first a sprinkle, then a steady downpour. Enough that by morning, we were ‘floating’ in the tent, anything that pressed the tent side – completely drenched by the evening showers. It was ‘go’ time. We had to get our car approved for transit, and then repair our radiator in Mbeya and make it to Mafinga in one day.

I checked my phone for the time. 7am. My watch said 6am. Wait… Was there a time change last night as we drove the 100 meter ‘no man’s land between borders? Had we actually arrived in Tanzania at 7PM – a whole hour after they closed!? Apparently so. Feeling like fools and novice travelers, we shook off the ‘loss’ from the previous night, packed up the wet campsite, and returned to immigration to clear the Prado. Mr ‘wait til morning’ of Tanzania smiled as he took our papers, and (consistent with the pace of Malawi Revenue Authority) took 2 ½ hours to put two stamps and process a payment for the car to pass. The procedure was the definition of ‘slow’, but all the boys were able to use the proper toilet inside the office – which even offered loo paper - instead of the ‘squat john’ – ‘pay per use’ block behind the truck stop, so I considered it a ‘draw’. 

our border campsite...

Nothing like a night at the border post in an unexpected downpour!

maybe not the best nights sleep...but we are A-OK! 

Stop Leak - the temporary fix...

A few more overheating problems between the border and Mbeya, but the ‘Stop Leak’ product we had purchased along the way seemed to have fixed the radiator temporarily. With no clear options for replacement in Mbeya, we pushed on to Kibidula mission – where Ryan had spent a year in 1997, fixing bicycles, running projects, driving trucks. We were hosted by the Cootz family and the boys loved the farm tour by Dave, coasting around in the mission’s ‘Mule’.

Kibidula Mission, Mafinga TZ

The Kibidula Mission plane

We left for Iringa mid-morning and hoped we could fix the radiator before driving to Ruaha National Park.  However, not knowing where to find a competent garage in Iringa, and striking out at every corner, we just put our faith in the ‘stop leak’ product and drove out to Ruaha for a two night stay in the National Park Cottages, resolving to fix the radiator in Arusha. The dirt road from Iringa took a little over an hour, but #wewerealone on the track, which we discovered is because all the other tourists are flying around Tanzania, and Ruaha’s air strip accommodated the majority of the park’s guests who arrived – in comfort - from Dar Es Salaam by 11am. With our wounded Prado, and long days on the Tanzanian roads noted for their ‘out of the blue’ 50 zones, abrupt speed humps – (which seem to multiply as the day goes on) - and police who ‘whatsapp’ a picture of your car speeding to their buddy 20km down the road, (who tickets you with a ‘got-ya’ grin) - I can’t say I wasn’t a little bit envious of the fly-in option…

Ruaha was dotted with baobabs, whose limbs were bare, indicating the drought the country had just endured. In between baobabs, punching their way to the sky, was tree cactus and the occasional acacia who dared to grow in ‘baobab’ territory. Swooping between the branches and scuttling through the grass we discovered a variety of birdlife, ranging from the red billed hornbill to the distinctive Kori Bustard –the heaviest flying bird alive. During our morning game drives, it was difficult to believe that Ruaha was “Tanzania’s best kept secret” as our viewings were less than impressive. But our afternoon drive, embarked on while all the ‘fly-in’ tourists were enjoying their 3 course ‘glamping’ lunch, provided us with one of the most spectacular moments of a wild encounter I have ever experienced.  A tip off from a friendly guide placed us just beyond the rotund baobab where honeycomb was dripping with golden liquid, past the rain trees and the rocks, and searching furiously for the tamarind tree where a leopard was touted to be. We drove up the bank, and back down with no ‘spots’ in sight, until Benson exclaimed, “There he is! In that tree!” pointing to the illusive Tamarind tree where a healthy male leopard was taunting a hyena below, assuring the member of the ugly 5 that he had no chance of stealing his kill – an impala - which he had stashed high in the tree.

The Ruaha giraffe and his feathered companions

Massive baobabs dominate the park

This guy - he gave us a fright! 

The following two hours gave heart to the phrase “we do not remember days – we remember moments” as we watched a magnificent male leopard loping in the fork of a tamarind tree, stretching, sitting, yawning, re-positioning himself, panting, and ‘smiling’ directly at us. His pink tongue, peeking out of his mouth, matching his nose perfectly…and giving me a ‘once in a lifetime’ photo shoot, of which I’m convinced I will never find a more handsome, ‘spotted’ subject! After a few hours of posing, he retired to the outer branches of the tree, and distributed his weight on ‘twigs’ in the tree’s extremity, beautifully managing to find a comfortable position for a nap. It was time for us to move on, and as we departed, a quick look back at Mr Leopard revealed he was completely camouflaged by the leaves where he had settled.  Until now, I admit, I doubted if leopards actually do live in trees…

A leopard and his tree

Checking out the new arrivals (us!)

Watching the hyena

So handsome!

Thanks for visiting Ruaha!

The Ruaha afternoon affirmed the park as one of Tanzania’s ‘hidden jewels’. We will remember it for the male lion who startled us more than we startled him, the grant’s gazelle who looked out of place near his impala buddies, and the leopard who stole the show – convincing me that no other ‘cat’ can compare to his beauty, and affirming the well-known, yet personally doubted fact – leopards DO like to hang out in trees…

Time to get our radiator replaced…oh, and our windscreen too – thanks to a mosquito ‘squash’ that made the already damaged glass a proper ‘spiderman’ barrier. Now, the police had another reason to ticket us.

Whatsapped speeding pictures – check.

Hella lights not covered in the daytime – check.

‘Spiderman’ windscreen – check.

Ruaha and it's baobabs

Splitting the country in half, the road to the ‘official’ capital of Dodoma took us north towards Arusha. Dodoma – where growing grapes is more prolific than politics – to Arusha – gateway for Tanzanian tourism to Ngorongoro Crater and the Serengeti. We found a ‘winner’ lodge at Songota Falls, where we spent a day getting the car fixed and doing laundry, and somehow Bill and Cheryl managed to drive their rental from Nairobi to meet us the following night, arriving long after sunset, and finding the lodge by using their ‘social’ skills and persistent attitude. I noticed right away that Bill had done some research for this trip as he thanked the guard at the lodge by saying “Asante Sana.”

Sunset on the Dodoma road before Arusha

When daylight broke we got our first proper look at the silver Renault Bill had loaned from the rental company in Nairobi, unaware of the challenges that our itinerary would pose for the all-wheel drive rental, and our 1995 Prado. For now, the duct tape/stop leak fix had run it’s course and our Prado boasted a brand new radiator and perfect windscreen, with no crack in sight.  Observing the 50km random speed limits and bouncing over the swarm of speed humps, we cruised past police check points on our way to Karatu – the nearest ‘gateway’ city to Ngorongoro Crater.

Ngorongoro, named by the Masaai people after the sound of the cowbell (ngoro ngoro) is a conservation area and a world heritage site. The large volcanic caldera within the conservation area is Ngorongoro Crater and the Crater floor and walls are host to Africa’s big 5, Ugly 5 and tiny 5. In fact, within minutes of descending into the Crater, we were watching a pride of lions, half-covered in mud, chasing a single buffalo who had wandered too far from his herd.  We saw flamingoes dancing on the lake, hippos ‘rolling’ in the pools, rhino at a distance, caracal peeking out from behind a thorn bush,  herds of gnu and zebra moving across the floor, and an entire fleet of long-based khaki-painted Toyota Landcruisers with a swath of tourists all dressed to match inside. I couldn’t help but think “#wearenotalone…” Yes – Ngorongoro has the animals, and tourists flock to witness this natural wonder in such numbers I would think Disneyland could start managing it as ‘Disneycrater’…

Maribu storks choke the sky just before Karatu

Benja - Ryan's buddy from Tanzania 

the Ngorongoro Caracal

descending into the crater in the early morning

lion roaming the crater floor

definitely not alone...

Gnu of the Crater

lake of flamingoes...

on the move

watching a lion hunt...

with a hundred other people...

the 'rolling' hippo pools of Ngorongoro

hippos with talent

Ngorongoro Crater

the lunch stop

with Nai Nai and Ga Ga in the Crater

our khaki long-based Toyota Landcruiser...when FOMO kicks in...

The crater view

The next day we drove the ‘transit’ road from Ngorongoro to the Serengeti, and I would say ‘we paid for it…’ Not just monetarily as we plonked down the cash for the privilege to ‘pass’ the Crater, but by the time we arrived at the Serengeti gate (having passed on the Oldupai Gorge museum) the Renault’s back shocks were both toast. The casings had crumpled and the rental car was now springing to the heavens with each small bump. If you’ve ever driven the Serengeti transit road, you will know how the shocks met their end. The most severely corrugated road you can imagine, caused by the long-based khaki landcruisers racing over the sand, triggering even vibrations to ridge the road into deep ruts. At speed, you can glide along the ridges and if you can retain control, this is the best option. But, if you’re driving a rental whose shocks are both busted, speed is not your friend. Slowly, we edged through the park, following Bill and Cheryl in their damaged rental towards our campsite for the night. The sun had long disappeared below the horizon, and rolling over the corrugation was painful at slow speeds. We hung back, and waited for their taillights to disappear, then sprinted forward, gliding over the ridges until we found them – springing towards camp. We repeated this behavior but had far to travel, so lingered behind Bill and Cheryl, until suddenly we heard a snap and bang on our back left tire.

Under the light of a headlamp Ryan assessed the damage. Our back shock had popped through the metal casing and was now resting against the tire. We couldn’t move. “I’ll have to take the shock out Shar, help me get the tools and let’s get to this…” Ryan suggested without the slightest panic in his voice. 

Stepping out of the car into the Serengeti night, I became acutely aware of the noises in the grass and air, and although we lacked the company of the khaki Toyota Landcruisers I had the distinct feeling that #wewerenotalone…

Woven baskets filled with food and duffle bags stuffed with clothes were emptied onto the corrugated road behind the Prado. Ryan found the needed tools and got to work under the car. “Sit on top of the roof rack and keep an eye out” he instructed me as he disappeared under the side rails.

My headlight was dim and proved useless at viewing anything further than a foot away, so I resorted to our small emergency flashlight which could be narrowed to focus the beam at 50ft – a handy distance when stranded in a game park at night. Suddenly predator eyes gleamed under the light and I called out to Ryan “#wearenotalone!” “hyena!!” Two sets of eyes within 30ft were shifting towards us, and rocks thrown in their direction provided no determent.  “Just watch them, and let me know if they come closer” Ryan asserted, still cool as a cucumber. I was pretty nervous by now, simply because it was evident that #wewerenotalone and moments later, racing at speed down the road behind the prado, another set of predator eyes flashed in my torch light. “Errr, I got something coming, Ryan – it’s moving. I think it’s small, but it’s running now directly at us!” Ryan rolled out from under the car, to find a curious jackal frolicking up the road, eager to sniff out our belongings, which were strewn behind the car. He moved on, but now Ryan was keen to get the shock out quickly. Moments later with two lights pointed out into the night, I saw more predator eyes moving on the same path as the jackal prompting another alert to Ryan who was still under the car, “Ryan – seriously #weareNOTalone!” 

I now had a torch poised on the original hyena who had not budged, and a second light revealed the hyena pack had more friends. Another sweep of the surrounding grasses and a third group of hyena began chuckling to themselves at around 2 O’clock. We now had hyena at 9:30 – edging towards us when not illuminated, hyena at 6 and hyena at 2. My heart was pounding, and I wondered how quickly Ryan could jump into the car, and if I was stuck on the roof rack – could hyena climb?

With the hyena laughing in a circle around us, Ryan managed to take the broken shock out and put the tire back on, and we threw the things back into the car and took off slowly towards the camp. We thought perhaps Bill and Cheryl would be wondering by now what happened and be waiting on the roadside for us to catch up. Soon we saw their headlights and that familiar ‘bounce’ of a car whose back shocks don’t function coming down the road searching for us. When we told them about our car troubles and the hyena Bill was disappointed to miss out of the ‘adventure’ and Cheryl asked, “did you get video or pictures!?” I had to admit I was under too much stress to snap a photo but once the moment had passed I had regretted not ‘capturing’ it on film!

ok, i did take one picture...before all the hyena circled us...

the corrugation of the Serengeti...looks harmless enough...

our Serengeti campsite...

We spent the next three nights in the heart of the Serengeti, going on ‘guided’ game drives with Ishmael - our young driver from the lion research project, while our cars underwent repairs and TLC in the Serengeti garage. We were reunited with our friends in their khaki outfits and long-based Toyota land cruisers as we jostled for position to view a lion pride “keeping a close eye on their food” – the zebra herd who had migrated to the predators’ hunting grounds. But unlike Ngorongoro, we found moments where #wewerealone, and Ishmael took the liberties of a ‘research’ vehicle and gave us some up close and personal moments with the Serengeti cats. We saw a male lion hanging out in the tree and drove 360 degrees around him, capturing his serene beauty from every angle. We found cheetah chilling in the shade of a tree, escaping the mid-day sun, and when every other tourist vehicle had moved on from the ‘distant’ sighting of a leopard in a tree, we drove out in the grass to view the beautiful cat as she descended from her perch, ready to hunt…

The Western corridor of the Serengeti showed that the wildebeest migration had not only begun, but had mostly moved on, and the Grumeti river boasted stout crocodiles and pods of hippos who could be smelt long before they could be seen. 

We will remember the Serengeti for it’s abundant predator life – healthy prides of lions who are successful hunters and phenomenal ‘posers’, cheetah – the first I’ve seen in the wild, leopard, hyena and Grumeti river crocodiles, but perhaps the most memorable destructor of all – the corrugated roads. Our friends – the khaki Toyota Landcruisers were driving around with a spare ‘leaf spring’ attached to their bumper, and upon arrival at the mechanic garage inside the game park, we noted that every self-drive vehicle was ‘admitted’ for shock repair, confirmation that #wewerenotalone – in fact we were in the company of the best shock mechanic on the continent of Africa! Good news – for Bill’s rental from Nairobi, who received ‘custom-made’ landcruiser shocks and drove out of the garage sitting just a bit higher in the rear.

curious jackal out on the transit road

Masaai with his camels on the transit road

A beautiful poser!

A relaxed and healthy pride mid morning

lions everywhere!

Hudson was the first to stop this handsome boy...

Such a grand sighting - a male lion chilling in a tree...

Just enjoying a quiet afternoon up a tree!

Catching a nap...zzzzzz

Serengeti Cheetah 

Cheetah cub

Mum Cheetah with her baby

Hours spent with the wind in our hair and the sun on our shoulders!

Serengeti plains on dusk

The rolled cruiser was a rental...these roads are serious business...

#wearenotalone

Lions watching their supper...

Heading back to camp...

The last signs of the great migration in Tanzania...

What happens when you can't keep up with the herd...

The Haytons at Grumeti River

Nai Nai and GaGa at Grumeti

The elephants of the Serengeti

Mum and nursing baby

Our expert Serengeti guide, Ishmael...

Putting the newly acquired Landcruiser shocks to the test, we drove out of the Serengeti towards Kenya – hoping to find evidence of the great migration.  We arrived at Tarime, in northern Tanzania and poked around the country town looking for food before crossing into Kenya. It was the first time we had cell phone reception since entering the Serengeti, so four days had passed since we had heard from the outside world. Messages started to ping onto my phone, whatsapps, emails, messenger, and I saw several from my Mum and Dad and realized they had desperately tried to reach me for days.

I had just placed an order for roadside “chips-my-eye” and was sitting in a green plastic chair waiting for the food to cook.

chips with eggs...the Tanzanian specialty..

I had seen my Nanna last year, she had since turned 90 – a number she always desired to reach – and having not walked for two years, had just existed in her room at Alton lodge in Cooranbong. Nanna had died three days ago, while I was in the Serengeti, circled by hyena and surrounded by broken shocks.  

Everything blurred around me. People were moving up and down the streets and I was sitting in my green plastic chair, tears pooling in my eyes. Ryan came to find me and took over the ‘food duty’ while I sat in the car, trying to call Australia. I was connected in seconds on facetime to Mum and Dad and we were instantly crying together. But then sports car pulled up beside me, and I heard the deep drone of music pumping out of the stereo. A young man, dressed in T-shirt and jeans, with a beaded necklace and a baseball cap slightly tilted on his head approached my window, flashing a faded ID card as he spoke. “I need to see your passports” he stated, his eyes widening as the words rolled off his tongue. I looked at my parents on the phone, still describing the events that led up to Nanna’s passing, and then back at this young man on the outside of my car, demanding to see my passport. “Hold on Dad – let me call you back…” I sniffled. 

I cracked the window and quizzically looked at this man who wanted our passports. “Why are you not in uniform?” I inquired. “I don’t have to be” he retorted. “Passports. NOW!” I felt uneasy. How could I be sure he was from immigration? He certainly didn’t look like an officer of the law. I refused to hand over our passports. He got offended, called his buddy, another young guy dressed in T-shirt and jeans, who pitched up moments later on a hot-rod motorcycle. He also flashed an ID card of sorts, and realized his friend was about to get heated so begged me to show our passports. It was too late. The first guy was furious. How could a woman stand up to him? I exited the car and by now Bill had joined me, just in time to persuade the officer not to handcuff me, as he reached for his silver cuffs and threatened them in my direction.

We were summoned to their official office just two blocks away where I was reminded how close I had come to being arrested, and then let go with a warning. “You need to show your passports when asked!” he snapped at me, handing back our documents as we exited the offices. “I’m sorry” I said, still disturbed by the entire event, and there were things I wanted to add to my apology but I decided I didn’t like the idea of being handcuffed, so left it at ‘sorry’ and departed Tarime quickly.  

With the news of Nanna’s death, and my near-arrest, it felt good to have an ‘easy’ border crossing from Tanzania into Kenya. Wifi in the building enabled me to finish my conversation with my parents and the friendly exit and entrance will go down as one of the best borders we have navigated.

my last visit with Nanna when we were home in Australia last year...

KENYA

Destined for Mara West, a lodge run by friends-of-friends in the Mara triangle, we were grateful to be welcomed late and escorted to comfortable bandas where we slept for three nights. Arriving out of the Serengeti where we had camped and eaten literally off the ground for three days, having run out of fresh produce in Ngorongoro, we were delighted to splurge on an ‘all-inclusive’ meals package at Mara West. 

the Mara West Bandas - our home for three nights

It’s difficult to convey how close the distance between ‘luxury on safari’ and ‘primal survival’ are bonded. One day, we were scraping baked beans out of a can with a spoon and the next day we were sitting at a table eating a three-course meal.  One night we were ‘floating’ in our tent and the next we were sliding into 500 count cotton sheets having eaten the ‘mint’ that was resting on our pillows. One thing was certain, we never knew what each day held until we lived it. And that’s the beauty and the curse of ‘life on the road’.

Apart from the food we relished at Mara West, we were glad to have caught up to the great migration! The drought in Tanzania and the rains that had begun to fall in the Mara meant that the migration was happening – earlier this year – and for that we were grateful. Would we be in the right place at the right time? It seemed so.

Watching wildebeest mulling around on the opposite side of the bank, waiting for one brave gnu to step out into the river and prompt a crossing where hundreds of animals would cascade into the water and charge up the bank on the other side, will be something I will never forget! Vultures were feasting on remains from previous crossings as the wildebeest emerged into their midst, forcing some of the predator birds into flight. Our pop-top Landcruiser rental was ‘swimming’ through the herds as they gathered on the hill, searching for greener grass, their bellows echoing over the hills, filling the Mara with new life.

We will remember the Mara Triangle for the lion pride who brought their babies to visit us, wading through the pink tinged grass at sunset to present their cubs – resting at the edge of the road just two meters from our open-aired car. We will think of the black rhinoceros who meandered in the morning light, crossing the road just beyond where we were driving.  And owing to a bit of luck and being in the right place at the right time, we will always remember the  herds of wildebeest and zebra who formed the great migration to the Masai Mara from the Serengeti, crossing the river with brave and defiant strides.  We will think of the Mara crocodiles who hunt in packs, and the zebra baby who ‘got away’ when struck by the jaws of the mighty reptile. We will feel like pretenders as we watch ‘Out of Africa’, knowing that the ‘pioneers’ in this area of the continent had life a little more rustic and wild than we do. We will think of Karen Blixen and her farm at the foot of the Ngong hills with a touch more romance and admiration than before because even out in the Western corners of the Masai Mara #wewerenotalone….

A buffalo bog at the Mara

Giraffe corner

Giraffe of the Mara

Just about to leave the park and this pride brought their cubs to show us...

Snuggles for the cubs

Mara lion pride

Black Rhino in the Mara

Wildesbeest crossing the Mara River

Wildebeest crossing

'swimming' through herds of zebra and wildebeest...

Zebra and the Mara Crocodiles

Bill and Ryan out in the Mara

A rocky and muddy road lead us out of the Mara to Nairobi where we viewed the sprawling city with it’s skyscrapers, parks and urban metropolis with eyes that couldn’t believe we were still in Africa.  Three-four lane freeways led out of the city, yet were plagued by speed humps and 50 zones, reminiscent to us of Tanzania.  Despite google maps letting us down, we found Kakuzi Plantations and our friends the Van Hasselts who welcomed us for a night at their country home. Being with our friends was another welcome reprieve from ‘life on the road’ and when we left the next morning, we felt refreshed and revitalized. We even tackled Nairobi traffic with our less than accurate google maps, and although a few wrong turns cost us time, we found the Sheldrick Elephant Orphanage and the Giraffe Center in time to enjoy the animals and experience their behaviors. Being ‘kissed’ by a giraffe is a memorable event, even though #wewerenotalone....

Our Malawi-Kenya friends, the Van Hasselts...

the boys loved meeting the Nairobi giraffe

Kisses from Eddie...

TANZANIA

We had said goodbye to Bill and Cheryl in Nairobi and began the long drive home. A confusing border crossing where sign posts are limited and toilets are expensive led us back into Tanzania and over to Moshi for another refreshing night with friends, Chris, Sarah and James Lewis. The next day we toured Kilimanjaro Coffee Plantation, which Chris manages and it became clear – the life of a farmer is more appealing to our boys than the life of a surgeon…

The Lewis family at Kilimanjaro Coffee Plantation, TZ

We left just after lunch for the long drive to Dar Es Salaam where we found a hotel with secured parking, willing to watch our loaded down Prado while we escaped to Zanzibar for two nights. A 2 hour ferry ride took us from the mainland to the historic island of Zanzibar, noted for it’s importance as the beginning port of call for explorers wishing to trek into the interior and also for the slave market, where black lives were stolen from the mainland and sold under a tree in Stone Town to the highest bidder. Although the sale of slaves was officially banned in 1876, the practice of slavery continued legally until 1897. However, the lucrative slave trade continued for many years trafficking black humanity to Zanzibar under the cover of darkness promoting a “black market” where illegal sales still existed beyond 1876. Given the history of Arab slave traders on Zanzibar, including the Sultan and his ‘House of Wonders’ it’s surprising that 90% of the island is muslim and there is little or no residual feelings of anger, hurt and revenge for the atrocities that occurred under the watch of the island’s rulers.

Stone Town is a maze of tightly knit buildings, where streets wind and intersect each other, motorcycle Vespa’s rule the cobbled paths, along with bicycles and foot traffic, yet occasionally a car narrow enough, with it’s side mirrors flipped inwards can pass through, minding the walls that threaten to scratch it’s paint on either side. There are myriads of stores all pedaling the same wares, from Tinga Tinga paintings to woven baskets and Chitengi dresses, each storeowner just as eager as the last to convince a tourist that their products are somehow unique and worth a gander. Tanzanite jewelry shops, strategically located by the waterfront hotels -who offer rooms from $495 per night - are aiming their business at those who can afford it. Artisans who don’t have shops prop their goods by the corner junctions and hope that tourists who didn’t find what they were looking for in the ‘mall’ area will find it now, here on the street. The large wooden carved ‘doors’ of Stone Town offer a slice of history and cultural knowledge regarding the Arab/Indian settlement, and a fine backdrop for a picture or two.

We enjoyed two nights in Stone Town and a day trip out to Pongwe, where we spent the day sifting through the fine white sand, and splashing in the turquoise waters of the Indian Ocean. Apart from the barman and the chef at the resort, the beach, bungalows, neighboring resorts, and swimming pool were empty. From the hustle of Stone Town, to the serene waters and white sands of the coast, Jett even looked around at lunchtime and said, “Hey! #wearealone!”

With a zebra painting rolled into a cardboard tube, and a woven basket holding Zanzibar sand and shells for our fish tank at home, we left the island aboard a crowded ferry, ready to begin our trip home to Malamulo.

Arriving to Zanzibar

the famous doors of Stone Town

Zanzibar Stone Town Market...

The Church that was built on the 'slave market' site.

the holding room for 75 slaves before auction.

The Pongwe resort

The most beautiful sand....ever.

nothing beats a good day at the beach...

a new piece of art for our home...

Priding ourselves once again on being ‘clever people’, we made a plan to leave Dar Es Salaam by 3am, escaping the traffic and police and the all too familiar 50 zones and speed humps which accompanied them. Ok, so we couldn’t avoid the speed humps, but a radar gun can’t take a picture of a car with lights on, so we at least evaded police checks until sunrise. We arrived at Kibidula around lunchtime, sorted out our car and bags, and then enjoyed another farm tour with Jason Fourier, again confirming to our boys that farming is more fun than doctoring…

The next day we bade farewell to Tanzania, and her 50 zones – but not before contributing to the country’s growth with another whatsapped speeding ticket. Of course, we determined – “NO-ONE could really drive 50km/hr for 100km”…so we paid the fine – along with every other car who was driving to the border, and felt solitude in our ticketing experience because we knew #wewerenotalone…

MALAWI

Within minutes, officers of the law had begged us for two fantas, but it felt good to be home. Back to the land of “Zikomo and Muli Bwanji”, the land of spot fines where radars are calibrated, speed humps are few and far between, and traffic at it’s worst is a thirty minute delay on the streets of Blantyre because the President has decided to use that road, and doesn’t want to compete for space on the tarmac.

But even within ‘our’ country, there were places to go and things to be seen. We can no longer claim that we live on the ‘worst road in Malawi’ after a trip to Livingstonia where the 15km from turn off to plateau takes over an hour to drive, and requires a concentration so fierce that by the time you arrive, a rest is essential. Livingstonia – named after missionary/explorer Dr David Livingstone who died in 1873, and by the following year Dr Laws had opened a mission in his honor at Cape Maclear called “Livingstonia” Mission. However, so many missionaries met their end there due to malaria and a host of other tropical diseases they termed it a “a white man’s grave.” Years later new sites were chosen to expand the mission and in the north of Malawi, high on the mountain ranges, “Livingstonia” was birthed. We visited the church and ‘Stone House’ where Dr Laws lived for 25 years. Thinking better than to lodge at the Mushroom Farm or Lukwe where sheer drop offs from your chalet’s konde would mean certain death, we took our three energetic chaps and descended the road, ready to camp along the lake shore just kilometers from the turn off. However, it appeared there were no functional sites for camping anymore and the locals just slapped their hands together before opening them with a shoulder shrug to match, indicating “palibe campsite or chalet”…

The Church at Livingstonia

Possibly the worst road in Malawi - the road to Livingstonia...

Maggie took the boys for a ride to visit the horses, Viphya Forest

Our family at the Viphya Forest 

No worries for these rugged travelers – on to Mzuzu and a fantastic Italian lodge where home cooked ravioli and wood fired pizza soothed our weary bodies. After a night in Mzuzu we set off to find the Viphya Forest and hike around Luawa Forest Lodge. The quiet setting, idyllic scenery and a visit to find Maggie and Brian with their pioneering homestead, far outweighed the average lunch we ordered at the lodge. It was now afternoon and we were keen to get home – all the way to Malamulo.

We arrived in Makwasa at 10:30pm and were rewarded with slobbery kisses from our five dogs who welcomed us home with enthusiasm. Our dogs couldn’t understand the delight we had in the fact that our Prado had made it! Yoda had taken us almost 7,000km’s in a month and could now add the heavy-weight title “Serengeti Road Conqueror” to his collection of African road subjugations.

It was good to be home…

Where we drove...

*A little duct tape, some stop leak, a few new parts, toting around people who were not dressed properly for safari, all took their toll on Yoda and a few days after resting in our driveway – he has refused to start. Perhaps it’s just a battery that needs replacing, or maybe this faithful beast has bounced his last speed hump and is ready to retire….

sunrise in Ruaha, TZ

*until the next walkabout – give me a sunrise to build a dream on…