Riding The Wild Serengeti Of East Africa - Part One
Part one of two unexpected safari adventures while living abroad and off the tourist trail
[Photo: Michael Rodock]
Traveling as a tourist only allots you a few activities within a limited timeframe. Guidebooks become your game plan. Straying too far off the tourist trail stresses your schedule and stretches your budget.
Living abroad opens up the opportunities to find alternatives and fall into serendipitous adventure. Memorable moments can appear without planning or expectation.
I spent nearly three years living in East Africa. The first two years in the densely populated hills of Kisii, Kenya straddled between the Serengeti plains abutting the Tanzania border and Lake Victoria, a flow-through point for the White Nile River. For eight months, I worked in the middle of the desert, not too far from the current northern border of South Sudan, in El Obeid, Sudan.
Masai Mara National Reserve
A border splits the Serengeti plains by name only into the Masai Mara Reserve on the Kenyan side. The open grassland savannah ecosystem is spotted with umbrella acacia trees, seasonal streams, woodland thickets and a diverse array of rangeland wildlife: zebras, giraffes, gazelles, wildebeests, topi, eland, impalas, cape buffaloes, lions, cheetahs, leopards, hyenas and more.
Living among this incredible wilderness are the Maasai people, from which the reserve gets its name. They are pastoralists that raise cattle and supplement their diet by consuming blood with milk. For protection from predators, a perimeter fence of thick, thorny bushes surrounds the small huts and animals inside for safekeeping.
Prior to the internet, most of us watched TV shows about going on safari. They seemed fantastical and exhilarating. A real safari experience on the open landscape matches that TV viewing feeling. It is a true wildlife encounter. Perhaps the prevalence of actual YouTube videos now lessens that sensation as anticipation is dampened. But there is nothing so authentic as a safari adventure (minus the downside of mass tourism complications).
As a Peace Corps volunteer, back in the early 1980s, I was invited by a small group of fisheries volunteers to go on a trip to the Mara. They arranged for a special excursion into the reserve for a trial run of a new tourist program. Instead of the usual pop-top vans or 4-wheel drive jeeps, we rode on horses. Yes, fully exposed and unobstructed from the elements.
A British Kenyan woman and her Kenyan assistant lead the tour. When asked about our experiences with horses, I lied. I’m from Texas, of course I know about horse riding and rodeos and cowboys. Shoot! I was not going to be left behind. And I did wear blue jeans, leather boots and went to the county rodeo one time. C’mon, I’ve eaten rattlesnake and chased armadillos.
We assembled single file and followed the leader alongside a river among the scrub brush and rocks. Our posse was a motley crew of six fish volunteers from all parts of the United States. I was the only outsider. The leader carried a small pistol on her backside for emergencies and Charles, the cowboy-hatted assistant, rode the perimeter to watch out for wildlife and problems.
At one stopping point early on, our guide looked back at the gang to check us out. Standing in stirrups, she gazed over us and shouted out, “Hey you, stand up when the horse is urinating!” What? Hell if I knew what to do when a horse takes a leak. I did feel bad for the horse trying to relieve itself with a load pushing in. Dammit, I stand up when I’m at home.
We all stumbled along enjoying the scenery while trying to control a one-horsepower vehicle. It was fun and frustrating at the same time. As we moseyed along there was a sudden feeling among the riders that something was wrong. As the word filtered down the line of stalled horses, we found ourselves trapped between a group of hippos, some in the water and a few others grazing away from the riverbank.
Everyone understands being stuck between a rock and a hard place. Well, the tour leader mistook the hungry hippos as large rocks. And you never want to be between hippopotami and the water, its safety and comfort zone. Despite their docile appearance, hippos are very aggressive and dangerous. So, our guide asked us to back up our horses to ride around the pod.
Say what? That was my question. How the hell do I back up a horse? Lucky for old Tex, the horses just sort of did it on their own going in automatic reverse. I just sat there like when riding a carousel pony with no pole or music.
Later on we departed from the riverine habitat and rode upon the savannah plains. It was supernatural. It was wide open. It was right in front of us. And it was not TV. I felt like one of the Cartwright brothers from Bonanza, a popular TV show western in the 1960s. At the beginning of each episode, the three brothers, Joe, Adam and Hoss, galloped on the prairie to meet father Ben before riding side-by-side to the Ponderosa Ranch.
For the rest of the trip I was Rick Cartwright.
It feels odd to be so close to a wild ecosystem without fear. There’s a calmness that extends over the savannah as animals go about their business. There’s also a sense of caution. Humans are alpha predators, but we were very vulnerable. Getting the horses to take directions was as much as we could handle. So, we absorbed the beauty of our surroundings and left the danger to the guides.
It was impossible not to appreciate the slow pace, quiet atmosphere and full view of the Mara from only five feet off the ground. We sauntered along like we belonged there. I made those double tongue-on-teeth clicking sounds, just like John Wayne, to get my horse to move over or speed up. At least, that’s what the cowboy movies taught me.
There wasn’t much chatter among us riders. It didn’t seem appropriate. It was more like a Disneyland ride where you observe everything and take in as much as your eyes can see until the end.
The Mara teems with wildlife. It’s one of the most important conservation areas in the world. It’s home to the Great Migration, a spectacular annual movement of wildebeests taking advantage of shifting rain patterns and grazing habitat. It illustrates the natural dichotomy of survival between swift grazers, such as gazelles, dik-diks, impalas and zebras, against shifty carnivores, such as lions, leopards, crocodiles and cheetahs.
It’s a battle on the open range.
We approached a woodland thicket, still 100 yards ahead of us, on the righthand side. Then one by one, cape buffalo strolled out of the tree clump and gathered the herd in plain sight. They stood in defiance and looked straight at us, leaving a 30-yard gap passageway. We had no clue what was going on. Why would these massive animals leave the protection of tree cover?
To us it felt like a good old fashioned stand-off. Were these wild buffalo calling us out on their terrain? Was it a setup? Cape buffalo are big, strong and unpredictable. They gore, trample and kill their enemies. Plus, they just look mean and badass. Maybe because African buffaloes don’t have any real predators, other than lions.
We stared at each other with reservations and then slowly tiptoed our horses through the open alleyway. It was an intense staredown. We watched each other with distrust as heads turned slow in unison. When we got to safety at the other end, the herd retreated back into the woods. My guess is that these alpha animals are stronger in numbers on unobstructed land, than fighting in dense thickets.
We crossed a dusty creek and rode up the embankment into a U-shaped area ringed by mature trees. As we stopped to gather everyone, Charles started to hoot and holler like a madman. We stumbled to attention to find the reason why. Charles was in a duel with a trapped buffalo, who couldn’t find an exit past us.
This posse was in no position to render help. Our leader was up front trying to keep order as we all watched Charles whip his hat around, swing his horse side-to-side and cut-off the animal from our direction. I was already in retreat mode with nervous side kicks to the horse’s torso and lots of tongue-clicking sounds. You really cannot depend on movie westerns to get you out of a real jam.
The horses spooked a bit with all the noise as we clumped together in anticipation of what to do next. As per our protocol, we just sat. Charles edged the scared buffalo away from the tree border and guided it down the creek bank, where it was free to escape. Just another day on the Ponderosa … err… Serengeti.
There were no more mishaps after that. We camped out in a grove of trees, whipped up a platter of chapatis and felt gratitude for the moment … and Charles of course. It was a great nature romp.
For the remaining time left, I realized a few things:
First, I will never be a cowboy. Goodbye Little Joe!
Second, I love nature in its pure forms.
Third, animals in the wild are glorious.
Fourth, this trip is going to spoil me.
My appreciation to you for taking the time to read these selections and essays. I hope you find some enjoyment and insights about the world we live in. Thanks for supporting and sharing Continental Drift.
— Rick Scobi (@rickscobi)