Spring Break Sweetwaters

Yo yo,

Alright. So I’m back in Mpala and it is nice to be back. The past two weeks have been great, but it is nice to come back to my tent by the river. We have traded one magnificent mountain for another. The gradually sloping flat-topped majesty of Kilimanjaro for the less majestic but still impressive pointed summit of Mt. Kenya. I used to think that Mt. Kenya was gradual, which it is, and ominously out of nowhere, but nothing compared to Kilimanjaro. Kilimanjaro rises off of the flat plains. Its top draped in a white table cloth that shrinks in the sun and expands in the snow. The land was beautiful. Amboseli they named it. A national park. The tented camp had canvas tents raised of the ground by wood and straw covering structures, like lean-to's. Thin mattress on the ground, pillow made of clothes, blanket that smelled of too much use between washings, and deep pit toilets. It was wonderful. And the trees. Tortilus acacias. A thin green mono-layered canopy supported by thick, sturdy, separated branches. Bark deeply trenched and furrowed, clasping hard to the wood underneath. The result: perfect climbing tree. Climbing up the trunk felt like a rock wall the holds were so sturdy. The branches large enough and far enough apart from each other you could go to the top, and no interior branches, twigs or leaves to get in the way. Perfect place to just sit. Looking up, a kaleidoscope of terminal branches, leaves, sunlight, blue sky, and white cloud. Also good to sit and watch vervet monkeys. We studied their behaviour while down there. While the others went in search of monkeys, I enjoyed climbing a tree and waiting for them to come to me. Didn’t always work. Outside of the campsite area was plain. Not plain, but plains. Stretches of very short (drought?) grass plains with some woodland in the distance and some groves in which baboon troops slept. Observation Hill jutted out of the flat in little opposition to the distant looming Kilimanjaro. [picture: Kilimanjaro, observation Hill, lion] At least it tried to stand up to it and continues to fight the good fight. In its defense, from the top of this hill everything could be seen. It was next to a swamp in which hippos, elephants, cape buffalo looked as though they walked partially under the ground because the grass and sedges of the swamp came up to their shoulders, but were fairly flush to the normal grass level. Flotillas of white pelicans paddled, searched, dipped heads down into the water while lifting their wings up, in perfect unison. Group fishing. Storks, egrets, and herons of many varieties searched the shallows, depths and expansive mammal backs. A lone African fish eagle perched on a dead tree trunk regally surveying slowly. The bird would remind a North American surprisingly of a bald eagle. Jet black body with white tail, white head, white bib front and back, yellow beak. Beautiful creature. And crowned cranes – wow. Amazing contrasts in colours and blacks and whites and tall and beautiful, with a golden crown atop its head. On the way down the hill and back to the land rover and venga bus (name – up for contention with low rider because the wheels almost touch the wheel well (not the greatest for the terrain but we work with what we have) of our crappy Nissan van in which we get around these days) the lighting was the most amazing I have ever seen. Bad day to not have charged batteries for my camera. Tell me about it, I have been kicking my self since…well not really, but you get the picture. The blues and purples of Kilimanjaro, greens of the grass, clouds with charisma, yellow sunlight seemingly illuminating the air itself, elephants browsing in front of the mountain. Post cards are made from moments like this. Mental pictures accompany me, but I hope to get some pics off of the other guys who were smart enough to think ahead.

While in Amboseli I followed a troop of baboons around for eight hours. I was with Sarah, a Kenyan researcher, and Gideon, the driver. They, along with a few others, have been collecting data for years and years adding to the database of baboon behaviour and genealogy for Jeanne Altmann (our professor for this part of the course) that goes back some forty-odd years. Following and observing with them gives one a respect for the data collection process. Imagine going out eight hours a day in the blazing sun and blustering wind writing down when a baboon takes a crap and who it was. In reality there is more to it than that, but that particular type of event was the high point of the day. No, not really. I found it really quite interesting. And as I said, it gives a respect for the data collecting that goes on in many of the sciences that I take for granted in many of things I do daily. Hey, some people probably spent their entire lives figuring out the best composition of materials for nylon, so I can just go to the store and buy the nylon pants I am wearing. Also got some good pictures. [Picture: baby baboon]

Prior to getting to Amboseli we stayed in a little place called Sweetwaters, where women flock like the salmon of Capistrano, and the beer flows like wine. The research centre in which we stayed was a small little area of a few bandas (huts) in a circle with a out of place rectangular building that housed such things as a kitchen and showers. I was excited because I heard that they were getting soy milk for the lactose intolerant amoung us (me). It would have been awesome if I liked incredibly sweet, chemically things. But things being as they are I wasn’t the biggest fan. I still drank them, however, because they went through all the trouble to find them for me. The least I could do was drink them. But Sweetwaters itself was really nice. In the little fenced area containing the research station was something so out of place it was redonk. Ol Pejeta House it is called. It is a little lodge. Beds the size of my room at school, baths the size of Olympic swimming pools scaled down for mice, sofas that made even the most stoic and masculine amoung us to let out a whimper of satisfaction, Arabian staircases and window-walls that stopped me in my tracks to admire the woodwork. It could be that we were of a different eye at this point, but I don’t think so. A comment was made that we would not expect to see the most wealth we have ever seen by coming to Kenya. Between this place and Ol Jogi (the “animal orphanage” place I described last time) it was well warranted. The premises also had a couple of pools, and due to a lack of patrons we swam in one one evening. It was amazing. All the fun pools were when you were a kid. We heard a flapping woosh and change in the winds only to look up and, against the whitish-grey of the overcast sky, a massive expanse of wing covered half the sky. It was a maribu stork. These things are gigantic and ugly as all hell. But really interesting looking, for sure. We saw a bunch in Amboseli. Some standing around after a rain drying out their wings looking like creatures from The Dark Crystal. [Picture: Morani's eye, a relatively tame male rhino.]

Sweetwaters itself is a conservancy. It is fenced and therefore contains quite high densities of wildlife. I could have reached out of the van anywhere and with a fork (and maybe a knife) eaten some bacon off the back of a zebra. They were also well habituated to humans and cars. We could get fairly close to do behaviour studies on them quite easily. Also lion densities were very high which, as Jenn and I found out in our project, likely were the cause of a significant distortion in age structure of zebra as compared to outside the conservancy, thus proving to be a major detriment to the viability of zebra populations in the long term. [End ecologist passage]. We saw our first lions. Two older females and the twin daughters of one of them. The younger lionesses [one shown attending herself in the picture] still had significant spots on the legs and underbelly and up their sides. They knew they could take us, so they casually walked in front of our car, sat down, licked each others faces, watched the horizon, every so often lazily turned a head in our direction to make sure we were keeping in line. They then strolled off to some unknown destination.

We also frequented a chimp refuge started by one Jane Goodall. It was interesting, but we didn’t have much time there. In the visitor’s shack they had a box mounted on the wall with a piece of paper glued to the front which read “What primate is the chimpanzee’s closest relative.” Underneath were pictures of a Gorilla, an orangutan, and another great ape which I cannot recall. It said to open the box to find out. I opened the box to find a picture of a primate very much looking like me. It took me a little while to realize it was a mirror, but I got it eventually. All in all Sweetwaters was a nice place. I got a shock one night while walking back to my banda when some startled clip-clopping marked the movement of a scared giraffe about ten feet from my person. It quickened its pace upon spotting me. As well versed as I am in face-to-face contact with giraffes (ha), I still jumped slightly at the sound and silhouette.

We visited a school in a community close to here (here now meaning Mpala, where I currently rest my seat). Lekiji. Eight classes, four teachers, two teacher’s aids, 175 students, eight classrooms. The students are fed maize and peas for one meal everyday. Many a time it is the only meal they receive that day. The school was beautiful in its simple sadness. The students had made a map of Kenya in stone on the front ground by a flagless flagpole. The green tin roofs were support by mud which was supported by horizontally and vertically oriented timber of various sizes. Desks crammed like sardines under the tin. Can’t imagine what the kids were if the desks were sardines. Many children after passing the government exam qualifying them to attend secondary school could not because it is too expensive. The only ones to go are those sponsored by outside sources (individuals or organizations). So instead they stay in the village and tend cattle, or tend children. The men had all gone with the cattle to Mt Kenya to try and get some grazing land during this drought. Many cattle died along the way. The ones to make it most likely died at the destination because they were not adapted to the cold of the mountain. Many a man would come home empty handed. Cattle represent capital, savings. To see it all fade away, borne with the dust storms out of one’s hands without nary an apology or even a menacing glare must be more than some people can take. Owning so little must be incredibly hard to lose, not like when you own plenty. It is much easier to lose something when you live in plenty than if you own only the clothes on your back and a hut you built with your own hands. [Picture: the school: not a part of, but the entire thing]

But on a more upbeat note, on Sunday we visited the village that houses the family members of the research assistants for Mpala. It was our first legitimate day off since being here. It was amazing. We spent the morning reading the Da Vinci Code aloud, dramatic voices and all, and went to watch a soccer match in the afternoon. It was up by the dirt airstrip right next to the village. I stepped out of the car and felt something brush up against my leg. Looking down I found a child looking up at me. I leaned down and greeted him with extended hand “Jambo”. “Jambo” he replied casting his eyes downward, a little smile touching the corners of his lips. Once I did this, you could imagine what happened. I raised my head to a sea of little white-palmed hands outstretched. Jambo, jambo, jambo. The occasional “Habari ako?” [‘how are things?’ most definitely misspelled]. I was dishing out Swahili left and right like I knew what it all meant. And by dishing out Swahili, I mean greeting children. All eight of us proceeded to get very dizzy from swinging kid after kid around and around. Arms outstretched, body horizontal, flying and dipping in a little circle centred around a mazungu (white man – oddly enough the same word they used in Zambia). Quite a step for me. If you don’t know already I have a problem with spinning. One day in Zambia, at one of the many Sunday lunch parties we used to frequent, I spent literally a few hours hanging onto a bar attached to a string attached to a tree spinning around (in hindsight, probably a mistake, though it was fun for those few hours) Ever since I have not been able to spin in circles for an extended period of time (read: seconds). My body had enough of my shenanigans. Apparently it has since forgotten its grudge. In addition to the spinning which I was proudly able to pull off quite well, I was running and jumping around with many many children sitting atop my shoulders (not simultaneously - I am still the skinny child you remember). They were having a blast, and so was I. Should not have worn the white t-shirt. Running around and kicking up massive amounts of dust for an extended period of time in the Kenyan sun with children climbing all over you tends not to be the best way to keep your whites white. Who knew? Needless to say I happily made the dust happy by settling myself quieter, closer, and more stationarily to the earth to watch the match. It is, however, hard to see anything in front of you when the view is blocked by smiling and laughing faces trying occasionally to braid your hair. (On a side note, I was very impressed by the braiding skills given that not a person has hair longer than a few millimeters). Even though coming into it I was eager to watch the match, I resigned myself to fact that this would probably not happen and let my hair get tugged. They were especially curious and enthralled by the hair on my legs. In their experience people do not have the carpet on their legs that I have found myself with. I wished too hard for hairy legs when I was younger. Maybe wishes are cumulative, so be careful how many times you wish for something. That’s my word of extrapolated-wisdom-from-one-observed-and-isolated-data-point for the day. But all in all the day was a grand one. Wonderful. And to add to it, the day itself was gorgeous. [picture: sunrise over Mt. Kenya]

So that is where I am up to now. Today we were putting together the components of a solar system. And by solar system I mean a system involving solar cells and batteries and all that jazz. And by putting together I do not mean assembling component parts, but assembling component parts into various circuit combinations. Handy to know. I have learned much about solar over the past few days. Tomorrow we go to set up a security system that runs on solar. And by security system I mean electric fence around an experimental area designing to keep herbivores out. Still cool, as it is self-powering.

Aight,

Peace.