Smack Dab in the Middle

Linda Lou Burton posting from Sweetwaters Serena Camp, Ol Pejeta Conservancy, Nanyuki, Kenya – Here’s the second reason I went to Africa. First Karen Blixen’s house. Now, the EQUATOR. I’ve been to the Arctic and the Antarctic, now I was smack dab in the middle, the fattest part of EARTH. Hot dog!

I wasn’t the only person there who was acting like a nut. We’d been sitting in the 4x4s since early morning and this was our last stop before lunch. We were running around like fools. “Get it on record! We’re at the Equator!”

I mean, this is serious stuff. That big tall sign was bragging too, with a bunch of “get this” facts about THE EQUATOR.

• It has the fastest sunrises and sunsets.
• It crosses through 13 different countries.
• It always has exactly 12 hours of day and 12 hours of night.
• It has just two equinoxes when the sun is directly above – March and September.
• It holds the world’s greatest concentration of biodiversity.
• It passes through 50% of the world’s rainforest in three countries – Brazil, Congo, and Indonesia.
• Only 20% of the world’s population live below the Equator.

See Lois and Mike back there clowning, Guide Abdi giving them directions, Rick and Judy watching. Everybody was lining up for their turn to be ON the Equator, right there near our tent camp at Sweetwaters; right there in Ol Pejeta; right there in Kenya; right there in Africa.

Here’s a record of our cuteness.

Rick Pointing * Rick South & Me North * Me South & Rick North * Venita South & Otis North * Ed & Maureen North  * Driver Frank & The Way to Sydney * Driver Daniel & Rick & Our 4×4

Just Looking

Linda Lou Burton posting from Sweetwaters Serena Camp, Ol Pejeta Conservancy, Nanyuki, Kenya – Nature Walks are offered at Ol Pejeta, accompanied by a Guide, and a Guard. We passed one early on, and waved. Happy in our 4×4, we agreed, and besides, we didn’t bring our boots.

So we rode, and we rode, and we rode. I’ll stop talking for a bit and show you what we saw, in a single morning Game Drive, on the plains and hills of Africa.

Look at the space – miles and miles of miles and miles. And air, and sky, and quiet.

Look at the animals behaviors — herd-friendly, or loners? Who looks after the kids? How do they help each other?

Look at the habitat they prefer – open spaces or good brush cover? Near water? Near shade? Near grass?

Just look.

Zebra looking.

Buffalo looking at us.

Cattle and herder looking for the best grass.

Rhino Mama and Baby looking for the next bite.

Antelope looking for relief. 

Elephant Mama and Family looking for the next stop.

Lion Mama guarding three cubs in their brushy nest looking napping-eye at us.

Baboon gang looking, running, shrieking like baboons.

And Warthogs! They stopped grunting long enough to look at us.

That’s Tuesday morning on the Ol Pejeta, as seen from the 4×4!

Ol Pejeta Conservancy https://www.olpejetaconservancy.org/wildlife/

What a Shame

Linda Lou Burton posting from Sweetwaters Serena Camp, Ol Pejeta Conservancy, Nanyuki, Kenya – Sixteen gravestones; one lone tree. We’d stopped at the Rhino Cemetery, set up as a memorial honoring the lives of Ol Pejeta rhinos killed in the poaching epidemic since 2004. Abdi stood beside the gravestone of Sudan as he told us the story of the last Northern White Male Rhino on Planet Earth. That’s right, Sudan’s death in 2018 brought the end to a species; there before our eyes was a cold hard illustration of the meaning of the word EXTINCT. Hard to grasp. How does such a thing happen?

Sudan wasn’t killed by poachers; he was guarded and cared for 24/7 during the last years of his life at Ol Pejeta and died of health-related issues at age 45. But every Northern White Male Rhino before him was already gone. The group of us walked around, solemn, reading the name and cause of death on the other gravestones.

Loita. Male. Killed by poison dart. Both horns taken. Chema. Female. Snared and found dead with both horns missing. Mia. Female. Shot dead. Both horns removed. Shemsha. Female. Shot dead. Both horns removed. Kaka. Male. Killed by poison dart. Both horns taken. Ishirini. Female. Killed by poison arrow. Found writhing in pain with horns chopped off. She was 12 months pregnant.

Back in our 4×4, Abdi and Daniel fielded our questions; why is rhino horn so valuable and who is buying it? Asian markets, mainly; medicinal purposes? Prestige? It sells for more than cocaine or diamonds, and poachers show no mercy — the HORN is all they want; animals may be left to bleed to death. There are less than 25,000 rhinos left in Africa. Approximately 2,000 rhino horns went into illegal trade just last year. These numbers are jarring; I shake my head in disbelief. Just ahead a mother and baby rhino are feeding peacefully; Daniel slows.

Then the noise of a chopper overhead, patrolling the vast acreage of Ol Pejeta. The rhinos didn’t notice, but I did; I was pleased to know they are being watched over so diligently. There are about 140 of the critically endangered black rhinos living here now; it’s the largest black rhino sanctuary in East Africa.

Ol Pejeta also has 39 southern white rhinos. There is no color difference between white and black rhinos; the name is a mistranslation of the Afrikaans word ‘weit’ meaning ‘wide’ – which refers to their square shaped lips used for grazing. This is the main distinction between white rhino and black. Can you tell if this browsing pair are black, or white? I can’t!

“This is the secured enclosure,” Daniel said, as he drove beside a double-wired fence. It surrounds the 700-acre 24-hr armed security area that is home to the last two northern white rhinos in the world. Najin and Fatu, mother and daughter, live here, pampered and cared for with a nutritious diet and everything else they need. Continuation of the northern white species ended with the death of Sudan in 2018; these last two girls can’t do it on their own.  I found a photo of them (online) getting carrots from their keeper; living out their years as the last of their kind.

What a shame.

Ol Pejeta Conservancy, and What They’re Doing About Rhinos   https://www.olpejetaconservancy.org/wildlife/rhinos/

Home on the Range

Linda Lou Burton posting from Sweetwaters Serena Camp, Ol Pejeta Conservancy, Nanyuki, Kenya – My first animal spotting was on Otis’s phone. He was holding it at the open window of our vehicle, yelping with excitement. “There’s a buffalo! A buffalo!”

I yanked my Nikon up to the window, and (watch for it), got a bulls-eye shot. “Ha! He’s looking straight at me!” I said, as Otis and I continued to block the left-side windows. No camera courtesy in our safari behavior just yet.

It didn’t matter, there were plenty of buffalo to go around. We had lucked into a herd, grazing peacefully, raising their heads now and then to give us  a curious glance. Abdi and Daniel began tossing out facts; it was Buffalo Lesson time.

We were looking at the Cape Buffalo. I’d never seen anything like the massive set of horns on the males; that thickness across the top of the head. The bases come very close together to form a shield, referred to as a “boss,” I learned. “See how the horns curve down from there, and then up?” Daniel explained. “Sometimes the horns can reach five feet across.”

I was aware that the Cape Buffalo is on the “Big 5” list; something created years ago by hunters describing the “5 most dangerous animals to HUNT ON FOOT.” Well yes, I can see that it might be dangerous to be out walking around this big fellow. Males can weigh up to 1,900 pounds, and are strategically savvy in a game of Hide and Seek. Cape Buffalo were considered prized trophies back in the hunting days. (The others on the Big 5 List: elephant, rhinoceros, lion, leopard.) Cape Buffalo are not endangered, but do present conservation challenges due to habitat fragmentation, and conflicts with humans because of their size and aggression; something carefully monitored at Ol Pejeta.

We came up on a mother-child combo next and got a warning stare from Mama. We studied her horns, and the young ones too. Females have smaller, narrower horns, with no “boss” across the top. “Another example of males being more hard-headed than females,” someone quipped. That started us laughing, of course, just as we rounded a curve and spotted two male antelope going at each other, their long spiral horns in combat position.

I couldn’t help myself. “Oh give me a home,” I began. Otis took up the cause, “where the buffalo roam,” and next thing you know, Rick and Venita joined in; everyone belting it out.

“And the deer and the antelope play. Where seldom is heard, a discouraging word…..,”

Just then Daniel pulled to a stop at the Rhino Cemetery.

Waiting for Warthogs

Linda Lou Burton posting from Sweetwaters Serena Camp, Ol Pejeta Conservancy, Nanyuki, Kenya – My eyes were as blurry as the camera lens in the pre-dawn light. I’d been up since 4:30, had my cup of tea, made one for Rick. No point in trying to sleep, it was way too noisy here. Snoring, yes. Wind flapping against the tent, yes. Animals gathering at the water hole, oh yes! Besides all those sleep deterrents, I was wide-awake excited.

Rick was way ahead of me on the “animal count;” he’d seen elephants and buffalo and all kinds of wildlife on yesterday’s afternoon game drive while I was taking a nap. Including ugly-tusked, grunting warthogs. Now, here we sat on our porch, waiting for the sun to come up, trying to spot which animals were right in front of us.

I zoomed the camera across the distance to the dining hall, all lit up; breakfast preparations underway; guides and drivers gathering to get vehicles ready, routes planned out. Was that the shadow of an impala I saw, silhouetted against the window’s light? It moved, a slow-gaited walk, neck swaying, much too long for an impala’s neck. A giraffe, perhaps? My perspective was skewed, the animal was at the water hole, the dining room way beyond that.

Sweetwaters Serena Camp is laid out around a large “water hole,” with dining room, lounge, and offices overlooking the view; Mt Kenya and its neighboring peaks the perfect backdrop. The 56 tents curve around the water hole on either side. Which means – wherever you are, you can watch the animals as they come to get a drink, and socialize.

The animals can watch the people too. Now we can see a row of gentle grazers at the fence line, looking at us. “How many people start their day like this?” we wondered, back and forth, barely believing it ourselves. Just then someone stepped around the corner of our porch. It was Abdi, followed by my early-morning wheelchair driver. “Jambo! Good morning! Are you ready for a game drive today?” Abdi asked.

“I am indeed,” I answered, climbing into the wheelchair. That’s my foot you see, I’m shining the flashlight ahead as I’m being pushed along the bumpy path towards the dining room, and breakfast, and a day full of animal sightings — elephants, buffalo, and yes, even warthogs, I hope. That’s Abdi and Rick ahead, early-morning talk.

Didn’t Miss A Thing

Linda Lou Burton posting from Sweetwaters Serena Camp, Ol Pejeta Conservancy, Nanyuki, Kenya – Ever get to a place and just want to stay forever? Ever sit on a front porch and just breathe, content to do absolutely nothing? Ever had guinea fowl make such a racket you stood up to look for invaders in your yard? Believe it or not, all those things happened to me, and to Rick, in our first hour at Tent #16, Sweetwaters Serena. I’d never even heard of guinea fowl before! More precisely, I’d never HEARD guinea fowl, but that awful sound got us up and looking for the problem.

The porch of our fancy-schmancy tent faced the water hole, a distance away past the tree line. And something over there was excited; it sounded like dogs-with-a-terrible-cold barking. Use your expertise to google “guinea-fowl sounds” and you’ll see what I mean. That’s what Rick did, as we finally spotted the “helmeted chickens” all in a fuss about something. They are known as “alarmists” and considered useful (on a farm, or a wildlife preserve?) for sensing trouble.

All that activity got Rick excited to see more animals, so he headed off to meet Abdi and Daniel and Frank and the rest of the gang for the very first Game Drive. In those 4x4s. Eek! “I’m not going anywhere!” I said. “A 5:30 wakeup today! A 5-hour drive with all that bumping and jabbering! I’m taking a NAP.”

Ahhh, peace and quiet. The guinea fowl settled down. The rain began, the kind of rain that politely falls without a mess, and whispers you to sleep. I headed inside. I’ve done some camping in my day. I’ve slept in pop-up tents, with sleeping bag on the ground, campfire for cooking, and potty relief behind the nearest tree. My Sweetwaters tent was nothing like THAT. It’s called a “permanent tent” set up on a concrete (tiled and carpeted) floor, with a permanent thatched roof above.

Sweetwaters Serena has 56 such tents; some are on raised platforms with balconies; ours was nearer the water hole, with a porch. Two comfy double beds. Two closets. Two robes. Two chairs inside; two out. Wi-fi and coffee station. Bath with tile shower, flush toilet, stacks of towels. Electricity! It qualified as “tented camping” because, in fact, all of this WAS inside a (very well protected) canvas tent. With windows and doors that zipped open, and closed. I left the door unzipped, and went to sleep with nary a dream of being devoured by a lion, as those who’ve-never-been-to-Africa predicted would be my demise.

An awful squawking woke me. I’d slept an hour or so, felt rested now. I walked to the porch; a misty fog replaced the rain. I couldn’t see the water hole; zoomed my camera; caught something moving far away. It was a mother and baby impala (I think, white ears rimmed in black), with a younger impala standing peacefully beside. Coming up on the right I could see the squawking guinea fowl.

The gang would be back from their Game Drive soon, I realized. Dinner in the Rhino Room began at 7; everybody chattering; what they saw; what they did; what I missed.

I didn’t miss a thing. There’s just something about a porch.

Sweetwaters Serena, Ol Pejeta Conservancy, Kenya https://www.serenahotels.com/sweetwaters

Better Than Disney

Linda Lou Burton posting from Sweetwaters Serena Camp, Ol Pejeta Conservancy, Nanyuki, Kenya – Ol Pejeta Conservancy is – well, it’s better than Disneyland! For animal lovers – it offers more than any zoo you’ve ever been to. For nature lovers – it offers more change of scene than any hike you’ve ever walked in the remotest of hills. For sheer accomplishment and impact, well, read on, in fact, go to THEIR website and spend the day learning about this magnificent place on the Equator in the foothills of Mt Kenya. https://www.olpejetaconservancy.org/

Here are a few basics about Ol Pejeta.

• It’s a not-for-profit wildlife conservancy in Central Kenya’s Laikipia County, providing “innovative, tangible, sustainable conservation for wildlife and people.”
• It’s big, and broad – 90,000 acres containing 4 key habitats (plains, riverine, wetlands and mixed acacia bushland), hundreds of species and thousands of animals, and is surrounded by a population of more than 50,000 people.
• It’s home to the Big Five – lion, leopard, elephant, cape buffalo, and rhinoceros – as well as giraffes, hippos, hyenas, baboons, and endangered species like the African wild dog, cheetah and oryx.
• It’s the largest black rhino sanctuary in East Africa, with a population of over 140 black rhinos, a critically endangered species.
• It’s home to the world’s last two remaining northern white rhinos. Najin, 32, and her daughter Fatu, who is in her twenties, live in a 700-acre 24-hour secured enclosure. The last male of the species, Sudan, died in 2018.
• It’s the only place in Kenya to see chimpanzees, in a sanctuary established to rehabilitate animals rescued from the black market.
• It’s home to a herd of 6,000 bush-savvy purebred Boran cattle. Livestock-wildlife integration is beneficial to the grassland as bunched grazing breaks hardpan soil and fertilizes the ground.
• It’s supporting the people living around its borders through infrastructure and economic projects and education and healthcare efforts.

Good news for you, and me, Ol Pejeta welcomes and embraces visitors! It offers nine tented camps (Globus booked us into Sweetwaters Serena), lodges and homestays, and five campsites. Do you want pampered luxury and table-waited dining, or camping in the wild (you know, those middle-of-the night sounds when animals scratch around your tent)? Either way, you’ll wake up surrounded by NATURE, with the chance of more adventure than, well, that other place I mentioned.

And the RIDES at Ol Pejeta are in open-air 4x4s splashing through rocky creekbeds in pursuit of the latest reported elephant sighting, or pausing to watch a baby rhino and its mom feeding in the quiet of wide-open spaces, or the dark of night when the spotter’s light catches a lion couple in repose.

It’s a Trip Advisors Travelers Choice again this year, and 100% of profits from tourist dollars are reinvested into conservation and community development. A visit isn’t just good for you, it’s good for Kenya’s natural heritage, and its people.

The Animals: Ol Pejeta Wildlife https://www.olpejetaconservancy.org/wildlife/

The Projects: Ol Pejeta Conservation https://www.olpejetaconservancy.org/conservation/

Places to Stay and Things To Do: Ol Pejeta Escapes https://www.olpejetaconservancy.org/ol-pejeta-escapes/

Get Involved Wherever You Are:  https://www.olpejetaconservancy.org/get-involved/

Hurry Up and Wait

Linda Lou Burton posting from Sweetwaters Serena Camp, Ol Pejeta Conservancy, Nanyuki, Kenya – Hurry up and wait! That’s what you do, when you’re on a trip, especially when it’s planned by somebody else. Wait for instructions. Hurry to be on time. Then wait for everyone else to show up. Keep looking back to see what you forgot. Blink a lot. Meet the guide. Meet the gang. Check out. Where is our luggage? Which van do we get in? And that was just the beginning of our last day in Nairobi.

Our Monday morning wake-up call: 5:30 AM. Take turns in the bathroom; clothes laid out the night before, in order. Who could think, so early? Money belt with passport inside the first thing to put on, shoes the last. Who could eat so early? But we did. We had an organizational meeting at 7:00; notice given the night before that we were LEAVING TOWN by 8:00.

Of course we didn’t. In a room near the lobby we met Abdi, our Safari Guide. ABDI! Our Leader, our Teacher, our Troubleshooter, our Pit Boss for the next weeks. Our Expert-on-Africa. He went over the rules, the plans, the expectations. He introduced our drivers. DANIEL, our driver from yesterday, well yea, Rick and I were pleased about that. FRANK, a tall, humorous young man who stood up to say “I’m not Sinatra!” Then introductions around the circle: Otis and Venita (from Texas); Mike and Lois (from Texas); Judy (from Texas). Ed and Maureen broke the streak – they claimed Kentucky as home; Rick Washington; me Arkansas. I was the oldest in the group. “Have Cane, Will Travel,” I said.

Out front, confusion. My bag was tagged SIMBA, to match the picture of the lion taped to the window of our 4×4. We were blurry, confused, scrambling for seats. And then we were gone! It was 8:49 as we headed out the guarded gate of the Nairobi Serena. Downtown we passed under the freeway, turned on A2 by the Co-operative Bank (is there an un-cooperative bank?). Morning traffic rush, cars headed in, matatus (those vividly decorated private buses) whizzing out, cattle marching along the edge. I’d studied the maps months earlier so I’d know what to expect once we left the city.

I knew it was 130 miles to Sweetwaters Serena, our first tent-camp. A 4-hour drive, according to Google. I had my list of towns we’d pass through, how fun, I thought, to see the countryside!

• RUIRU. Population 490,120. Altitude 5,135 feet. Once a coffee-growing area; now mostly housing.
• THIKA. Population 279,429. Altitude 5,351 feet. A major commercial hub. Ol Donya Sabuk National Park near.
• MURANGA. Population 110,000. Altitude 4,120 feet. Traders and farmers here; a busy matatu terminal.
• SAGANA. Population 13,000. Altitude 5,450 feet. Tourist attractions along the Sagana River.
• KARATINA. Population 6,852. Altitude 6,129 feet. Largest open-air market in Kenya. Residents 90% Kikuyu.
• NANYUKI. Population 49,233. Altitude 6,250 feet. On the Equator, the base for people climbing Mt Kenya.

Now here is where expectations met reality. A2 was bumpy, dusty, rigged with speed bumps at every commercial spot. “The Sleeping Police,” Daniel explained to us as he slowed. Again, and again, and again. I clung to the strap, I was third row back in the 4×4 and my seat belt kept slipping. I banged my head against the window; tried to focus on the passing scene.

The markets were busy, swarming with people, motorbikes, bananas, tomatoes, melons, produce of every kind. There was commerce going on; action, color, noise. Inside our vehicle, Abdi called our attention to points of interest — the Teachers College, the river, the papaya trees. “Wow!” was repeated, endlessly, by one of our gang. “Wow!” to the Teachers College. “Wow!” to the river. “Wow!” to the papaya trees. I got a headache.

A short stop at a souvenir shop. I didn’t want to shop. Daniel brought me a chair and a coke while the others bartered for elephants carved out of wood and paintings that would roll up for shipping  (we can ship anything direct to your house). Finally, (finally!) back on the road; the scene more rural now; simple roadside stands and fertile farmland.

We passed small family plots with tin-roofed barns; we passed huge open fields stretching for miles towards Mt Kenya in the east. We passed Maisha Flour Mills, with its giant grain silos. I asked Abdi about the main products that come out of Kenya; the answer surprised me — concrete, flowers, wheat.

And then we were in Nanyuki; a big yellow sign splashed out the news: You Are At The Equator! We begged to stop; but it was almost 1:30 then, and lunch was waiting at the camp. “We’ll get pictures on the Equator tomorrow,” Abdi promised.

Daniel made a left onto Nanyuki-Marura Road. It was lined with tiny shops; a hardware store (Sand Blast & Ndarugo?); corrugated housing in a row, chickens wandering out front.

It was 1:49 when we reached Ol Pejeta Conservancy, where our tented camp was located. You’d better keep reading my posts, because this place is going to knock your socks off.

Some things are absolutely worth the wait.

Benjamin and the Green Chair

Linda Lou Burton posting from Nairobi, Kenya – I saw him bringing a chair as I approached the house. By the time I was there, he’d made a perfect spot for me. At last, I was seated on Karen Blixen’s verandah! Here’s me, holding the book Karen Blixen wrote; which was the inspiration that brought me here to Nairobi. I wanted to see what Karen saw. I wanted to see Africa. Now, here I was, looking out over the wide lawn, seated in a green plastic chair, all mixed up with emotions. “The past is never past,” it’s been said, and by golly, it’s true. The past is only how we remember it, and even that changes over time. When Karen wrote Out of Africa she was already back in Denmark, recalling moments that were precious to her; or heart-wrenchingly sad. Chapter titles reveal her swings in thought: The Ngong Farm. A Native Child. A Gazelle. Riding in the Reserve. The Shooting Accident. Big Dances. A Kikuyu Chief. Somali Women. Old Knudsen. Visits of Friends.

I’d come to see what I could see TODAY, that linked to Karen’s memories, and Benjamin was geared to tell. Benjamin was a handsome young man, a college student being funded by his work at the Museum. He knew his stuff; I’ve been studying Karen Blixen’s story for a long time, yet he told things I’d never heard before as he pointed to various posters displayed on the porch. Then it was time to go inside.

House Museums are generally stingy with what they allow visitors to do; and this was no exception. “No pictures,” Benjamin said, “but I’m bringing this chair inside so you can comfortably sit and hear what I say.” He led the way, green chair in hand, as we started out in the drawing room. My visions of the house (as I read the book) were completely dominated by the images in the 1985 Streep/Redford movie, and Benjamin assured us they were “basically” correct. Kumante Gatura, a Kikuyu who entered Karen’s life as a small boy and worked in the house until she left, was alive and on set during the movie-making, and gave his advice as to the correctness of what Sydney Pollack was trying to do.

Benjamin moved my green chair from room to room, where I sat (and Rick stood) as he pointed out details – the dining table where Prince Edward sat during his 1928 visit; the desk where Karen sat to manage farm business, the cuckoo clock the children sneaked in to watch, the lion-skin rug. He had a story to tell about each, and he told each one with vigor, putting us there, in the moment. I wish I could show you what I saw, but I obeyed the rules. Which means, of course, any “inside photos” are lifted off a google search.

And then we were back outside, walking the grounds. Benjamin showed us how coffee beans grow on a tree (yes, one or two trees were left near the house). He pointed to the hills visible beyond the trees. “Those are the Ngong Hills Karen wrote about,” he said, “and that’s where Denys is buried. Ngong is a Swahili word for knuckles,” Benjamin explained, holding up his folded hand to show the knuckles matching the hills in the distance. The large stone terrace at the back of the house is where Karen held “clinic” every morning at 9, Benjamin pointed out, dispensing first aid as needed to the natives who worked on her farm. Kumante helped with this every day. Rick and I posed for a picture between the two large millstone tables where they sat. I found a picture (online) of Kumante as an old man, sitting back there. I’m guessing it was when he came to assist in the movie-making.

We completed our walk around the house, imagining the crowds gathered there daily, the workers, the children playing, the goats grazing. Here is where the big natives dances (ngomas) were held, with as many as a thousand Maasai coming to celebrate. Here is where Karen sat with Denys, listening to Mozart on the victrola he brought her. Here is where Karen’s belongings were sold when she lost the farm, and here is the last thing Karen saw, that day in 1931 when she had to leave Africa forever.

Our tour of the Karen Blixen Museum was over. I complimented Benjamin for  the excellent presentation he made, thanked him for for the kindness of the green chair, wished him well. Rick waved to Daniel, and Blethwell, who were waiting with our vehicle just down the drive.  We were quiet on the ride through the Karen suburb back to our hotel on Kenyatta Avenue, just thinking, I guess.

Karen Blixen Museum, Karen Road, Nairobi https://www.kenyamuseumsociety.org/karen-blixen-museum/

Karen Blixen (1885-1962) 

Residence in Kenya 1914-1931 

Out of Africa published 1937

Karen Says

Linda Lou Burton posting from Nairobi, Kenya – “Remember me?” The Elephant Feeding was over now; the crowd filing out. Blethwell was on my left, Rick on my right, which is where the voice came from. We paused, and there was Douglas! Douglas, who brought us from the airport Friday night. Rick stepped over, grabbed his hand. In all this crowd, here was a friend, remembering us. We stopped to chat, delighted to see a familiar face. Douglas had brought a group for the Elephant Feeding, he explained; he and Blethwell worked together, Globus representatives. We headed on, past the stables towards our vehicle; Daniel had pulled as close to the gate as possible. “Pole, pole,” he said as he helped me up my ladder step. “Are you ready for lunch?” “The Karen Blixen Museum is MY priority today,” I replied. “When do we go THERE?” “It’s open all afternoon,” Blethwell-the-scheduler answered. “First you get to relax over a nice lunch.”

Daniel made a left past Galleria Mall, easing onto Langata Road. It was Sunday-after-church time and crowds were spilling onto the streets. “Where are all the church people going to eat?” I inquired, thinking how fun it would be to go there, the way we did after-church lunch in the old days when the kids were little. “They’re going for Sunday chicken,” Daniel laughed, pointing to the stands lining the streets. We passed Karen Hospital, crossed over Karen Road, made a right at Ngong Road. Then he slowed, turned left into a walled area, gated, guarded. It began to sink into my consciousness: we left our hotel through a guarded gate; we entered the Giraffe Centre and the Elephant Orphanage through guarded gates, and now, were we to have our Sunday lunch in a guarded area? Apparently so.

Tamarind Brasserie was a secluded, palm-surrounded haven of privacy, with individual covered patios around the perimeter of the grounds. Staff in pink uniforms sang greetings as we entered; I was escorted to my chair. “I’ll bring your food,” a beautiful young server said to me, “just tell me what you’d like.” Rick headed for the buffet with her; soon she returned with a perfectly arrayed plate of vegetables and rice for me; just what I’d requested. I thanked her, and commented on the peacefulness of the area. She smiled. “My name is Amani,” she said. “It means ‘peace’ in Swahili.”

During the course of our lunch, as Amani continued to lavish attention on me, we exchanged details of our lives. “I share an apartment with my sister,” she said in answer to my question. “Whoever gets home first in the evening cooks for the other. We work long hours and have long drives so don’t have much spare time.” She asked about my life in the states; I drew an air-map of the US, pointing to my spot in the southern part of the country. By the time we got to dessert, Amani told me she planned to leave Kenya, explaining there were no jobs where she could use her education. “Where will you go?” I asked. “One of three places – Canada, Australia, or Germany,” she answered. “Pick Australia!” I laughed. “I’ve never met an Aussie I didn’t like, and Canada can get COLD in the winter.”

Blethwell appeared, checking to see if we were done; leading us across the grassy lawn, through the palm trees and flowers to the drive where Daniel waited with our vehicle. “Where did YOU guys eat lunch?” I inquired as we exited the gate. “A Sunday chicken place,” Daniel laughed. When we turned down Karen Road, I saw a sign advertising the Karen Blixen Museum ahead. We were in the Karen suburb, the white enclave of Nairobi.

I remembered a line from Karen Blixen’s Out of Africa book, written years after she left. Her 6,000-acre coffee plantation was a highlands area about ten miles from the 1913 town of Nairobi. Her dream for the natives – the Kikuyu and the Maasai that were such a part of her life – didn’t work out the way she’d hoped. Her plantation was bought by a company that dug up the coffee trees and divided the land into 20-acre plots. Her grief expressed in writing: “now the lands where my natives lived and worked are paved with tennis courts.”

“That’s MY house,” Daniel joked, pointing to a rooftop visible behind a gated stone wall.  As we continued down the road,  I noted lean-tos on the outside of these barbed-wire topped mansion walls. I am puzzled now, really paying attention to my surroundings. “Karen” describes itself today as “a center for many upscale restaurants and hotels in the city, offering cuisines from around the world. It is a vibrant residential suburb characterized by big mansions, many trees, tranquil atmosphere, and plush gardens.

Depends, I guess, which side of the wall you’re on.

Next Stop: Karen Blixen Museum