Circle of Life

Last week, I traveled northward to Hell’s Gate National Park, which is near Naivasha, for a day-and-a-half vacation with two Canadians and a Midwesterner. After an early wake-up call, we caught a matatu on River Road, the main drag through one of Nairobi’s poorest areas. After a few hours drive, we ended up in Naivasha, hopped on another matatu for 40 minutes to make our way to Fisherman’s Camp, our night accommodations on Lake Naivasha.

The drive up was largely uneventful, minus the beautiful sights- north of Nairobi, the drive takes you through forests seemingly out-of-place in stereotypical Africa, followed by the breathtaking views as you enter the Central Rift Valley. The Rift Valley holds significant ecological and historical importance in Kenya, a testimony to the changing animal and human population dynamics- before the arrival of the Europeans, it was dominated by the infamous Maasai, and is home to the Kalenjins (meaning ‘I tell you’), who are mostly farmers. The Rift Valley in general has been central to Kenya’s ethnic conflicts, even before the 2008 post-election violence. Former President Moi, known for entrenching corruption and ethnic-preference in the civil service during his long rule, is a Kalenjin- during the latter part of his time in power, the non-Kilenjin groups faced ethnic-cleansing in the run up to the 1992 and 1997 elections (the first multi-party elections post-independence), with the Kikuyu (both the previous President Kenyatta’s and the current President Kibuki’s ethnic group) being the main victims. Unsurprisingly, when Kibuki came to power, the Kalenjin of the Rift Valley felt targeted by the Kibuki administration. (Sorry, I can't not talk about this stuff...)

On the drive from Naivasha to Fisherman’s Camp and Hell’s Gate, we passed numerous greenhouses- Naivasha is home to a flourishing flower industry that exports to Europe, which was also apparent by the barrack-looking homes lining the road, occupied by the farm workers. It felt like home in Nairobi the minute the children starting yelling ‘How are you?’ to the wazungu in unending chorus from their homes.

Descending from the road to Fisherman’s Camp was like entering a haven, untold years-old trees extending their branches to cover a complete blanket of shade. Monkeys were jumping from tree to tree, and giant birds swooping to the ground. The camp is on the shores of Lake Naivasha, home to hippos- which was apparent by the numerous signs and the electric fence that switched on at 6:30 pm, warning of the world’s most dangerous animal (sadly, I didn’t get to see any of them). We stayed in a banda, and enjoyed a walk out on a precarious wooden walkway on the lake, further romanticized by a mountain backdrop; just beyond gorgeous.

We picked up some bikes and a guide (Marco!) at Fisherman’s Camp, to begin a 6 hour, 30 meter bike ride to and through Hell’s Gate National Park. So, these bikes were of a questionable nature, clearly showing the years of wear (I’m still sore a week later from the barely existent seat). It also probably didn’t help that one of the guys setting the pace is a cyclist…

Hell’s Gate National Park is what used to be a freshwater lake in prehistoric times, and the former shores form what is now Njorowa’s Gorge. Riding a bike through it was humbling- the massively expansive red walls, unending plains, and most spectacularly, how close you were to the wildlife- what was absolutely wonderful about Hell’s Gate is the sheer proximity between human and animal, which is harder to get on a typical safari. We rode past zebras, gazelles, water buffalo, giraffes, and Lion King warthogs (although none of them sang Hakuna Matata for me). In true Circle of Life-style, we stumbled upon an eagle finishing up his baby-gazelle meal, leaving the head for us. I also got to rock climb Fischer’s Tower, which is this giant skinny mountain in the middle of an open plain, a volcanic plug, or the remains of a former volcano. The numerous holes punctuating the side of it made it an easy climb, but exhilarating nonetheless to say I climbed in Kenya.

The bike-ride took us to a ravine, which a barely distinguishable path that required jumping and strategic straddling over 6 m deep water on an hour-long hike. We crossed paths with hot springs, and saw beautiful views from the look-out. Marco, a man of few but weighty words, had fun paining the wazungu up with red Maasai warrior paint.

The bike-ride was a little tougher back, since my butt was sufficiently sore and legs wobbly and tired, but every minute was worth it. Finishing up the day with a campfire, I slept like a baby underneath my malaria bed net.

It was a wonderful break from wonderful mixture of feces, exhaust, and trash of Kibera and Nairobi, and it was also great to see another side of Kenya- a testimony to the diversity of experiences, background, and history that make this country so intriguing (and hence, why I’m having a blast).

I realized I’ve been really bad about describing vacations and touristy stuff throughout the summer, so hopefully this was okay in making up for my previous failures- Kilifi and Mombasa will be in a separate post coming soon.

Less than two weeks before US touchdown, three weeks before heading home to the Southern part of Heaven- and the excitement of being at Carolina (and terror at the fact its my senior year) are setting in. I am SO unprepared for the whole real-life thing, demonstrated by the spontaneous, off the top of my head, name I gave the word document compiling post-grad plans—‘for when my life ends.’ I’m going to work on the whole optimism thing.

I'm getting lucky with the internet. Pics coming in t-minus 15 minutes.