Kenya Arrival
Yo yo,
Well, I have arrived safe and sound. The flights contained nothing of note, except that I was back flying British Airways for the first time in quite some time and was finally in Boeing’s 777 aircraft; which is probably not very exciting, but may be for those aerospace enthusiasts amoung us, of which I am only an idle, yet starry-eyed spectator. I only wish we had had more time in Heathrow. After a slightly delayed flight, and enormous lines for the connecting flight security, an hour and a half didn’t seem long. About ten minutes actually. So I am still without an adequate chronograph; however, such a loss is not so bad in the tropics as the sun does serve as a very reliable timekeeper.
Anyway, enough flight tedium, I am back in Africa. It has been a long time coming and the draw on me has been strong, especially last year for some reason. And now that I am back it feels good. Home again. Perfect weather, wild animals, pit toilets – what more could one ask for? I mean, seriously. And despite the unfortunately large drought that is occurring in this area of the globe (the rainy season of October and November apparently forgot to come this year), some colour still remains in the landscape. The dusty greens of the stubborn Winterthorn leaves still hanging on to the many plump greens of the cacti; the yellow bark of the acacia to the purple blossoms of the bougainvillea; the orange, red and sometimes almost pink of the soil; all in sharp contrast with a deep blue sky only rarely broken by clouds. And the air… A fresh taste and lightness in the lungs that makes me want to just hyperventilate I love breathing so much. And along with it comes what some m
ight call an eerie silence, but I call refreshing. The air is buzzing with birds during the day, cicadas, crickets and toads at night, behind which no other sounds lurk. No buzzing of electricity, no passing cars, no people yelling at each from across the courtyard. I sit here in my canvas tent typing away at my makeshift desk pausing every so often just to listen and let my mind be soothed. The fan of my laptop normally not ever heard seems so very large. And not only sound, but light pollution is all but non-existent, allowing even the half-moon to light up the ground underfoot which in turn dims some of the stars that are still oh-so-bright. Just like on one not-so-distant Christmas Eve in the Solomon Islands constellations gain a fullness of form and come to life.
And what a first day back. From the bustling city of Nairobi this morning, to the trek north to Mt. Kenya. And by trek I mean four hour drive by van – and not minivan, mind you. I am talking straight up Toyota-four-rows-of-passenger-benches van – to the rolling flatlands (in the face of mountains even rolling hills seem flat) resembling very much parts of the Sierra Nevada, to much drier patches of vegetation resembling a very very dry Solomon Island ridge, to the giraffes, elephants, warthogs, baboons, impala, and bush-babies, not to mention all the birds, we have seen in just one afternoon.
It was quite funny on the drive up here when we pulled over into a very large curio shop filled with white tourists (hardly deserving of the name curio which to me implies a small, yet still over-priced, shoppe full of souvenirs and memorabilia). I was not the only one to notice how humourous it was when surrounded for the whole day by so many black faces a tightly bunched group of white tourists behind a wall looked as though they were cowering from the ‘wild land’ beyond the gate. Then I quickly remembered my white face and that our little group of university students probably looked much the same to any outside observer of us. That shut me up pretty quick.
Anyway, I will end my story here as my eyelids are beginning to succumb to gravity’s pull. Classes start tomorrow. The great thing about the schooling here is that because we don’t have electricity at this campsite on the river, not much is expected in terms of staying up late into the night to do work or reading. Or at least I hope it is not: my battery only stays alive for an hour without juice. Who am I kidding, you know me, nature and chillin’ trumps reading from a textbook hands-down.
Peace.
Well, I have arrived safe and sound. The flights contained nothing of note, except that I was back flying British Airways for the first time in quite some time and was finally in Boeing’s 777 aircraft; which is probably not very exciting, but may be for those aerospace enthusiasts amoung us, of which I am only an idle, yet starry-eyed spectator. I only wish we had had more time in Heathrow. After a slightly delayed flight, and enormous lines for the connecting flight security, an hour and a half didn’t seem long. About ten minutes actually. So I am still without an adequate chronograph; however, such a loss is not so bad in the tropics as the sun does serve as a very reliable timekeeper.
Anyway, enough flight tedium, I am back in Africa. It has been a long time coming and the draw on me has been strong, especially last year for some reason. And now that I am back it feels good. Home again. Perfect weather, wild animals, pit toilets – what more could one ask for? I mean, seriously. And despite the unfortunately large drought that is occurring in this area of the globe (the rainy season of October and November apparently forgot to come this year), some colour still remains in the landscape. The dusty greens of the stubborn Winterthorn leaves still hanging on to the many plump greens of the cacti; the yellow bark of the acacia to the purple blossoms of the bougainvillea; the orange, red and sometimes almost pink of the soil; all in sharp contrast with a deep blue sky only rarely broken by clouds. And the air… A fresh taste and lightness in the lungs that makes me want to just hyperventilate I love breathing so much. And along with it comes what some m
ight call an eerie silence, but I call refreshing. The air is buzzing with birds during the day, cicadas, crickets and toads at night, behind which no other sounds lurk. No buzzing of electricity, no passing cars, no people yelling at each from across the courtyard. I sit here in my canvas tent typing away at my makeshift desk pausing every so often just to listen and let my mind be soothed. The fan of my laptop normally not ever heard seems so very large. And not only sound, but light pollution is all but non-existent, allowing even the half-moon to light up the ground underfoot which in turn dims some of the stars that are still oh-so-bright. Just like on one not-so-distant Christmas Eve in the Solomon Islands constellations gain a fullness of form and come to life.
And what a first day back. From the bustling city of Nairobi this morning, to the trek north to Mt. Kenya. And by trek I mean four hour drive by van – and not minivan, mind you. I am talking straight up Toyota-four-rows-of-passenger-benches van – to the rolling flatlands (in the face of mountains even rolling hills seem flat) resembling very much parts of the Sierra Nevada, to much drier patches of vegetation resembling a very very dry Solomon Island ridge, to the giraffes, elephants, warthogs, baboons, impala, and bush-babies, not to mention all the birds, we have seen in just one afternoon.
It was quite funny on the drive up here when we pulled over into a very large curio shop filled with white tourists (hardly deserving of the name curio which to me implies a small, yet still over-priced, shoppe full of souvenirs and memorabilia). I was not the only one to notice how humourous it was when surrounded for the whole day by so many black faces a tightly bunched group of white tourists behind a wall looked as though they were cowering from the ‘wild land’ beyond the gate. Then I quickly remembered my white face and that our little group of university students probably looked much the same to any outside observer of us. That shut me up pretty quick.
Anyway, I will end my story here as my eyelids are beginning to succumb to gravity’s pull. Classes start tomorrow. The great thing about the schooling here is that because we don’t have electricity at this campsite on the river, not much is expected in terms of staying up late into the night to do work or reading. Or at least I hope it is not: my battery only stays alive for an hour without juice. Who am I kidding, you know me, nature and chillin’ trumps reading from a textbook hands-down.
Peace.
posted by Mark Dalgarno at 18:54
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home