Bare branches of acacia trees framing a sunset that puts a Pantone shade card to shame, lanky Masai Mara men with big spears and even bigger smiles and awe-inspiring wildlife that leaves you feeling inconsequential in the larger scheme of things. Kenya at first sight, comes across as a heart-warming cliché…
However, unlike the millions of tourists who flock to the country just to get a glimpse of these clichés, I had another far more vital concern: my living arrangement.
You see, Cheli & Peacock, the company known for its ultra-luxurious safari camps and lodges set amid Kenya’s best wildlife sanctuaries, had invited me for a visit. My apprehensions? They stemmed from the fact that I was reading the fine print hidden underneath the layers of superlatives.
I was going to be living in flimsy tents in the middle of real forests inhabited by real wild animals.
What was I getting myself into? And need I worry about ending up on a pride of lions’ dinner table?
As you might have guessed, I’m a city girl, and to me wild is something that looks charming on a documentary, but not under your feet. It’s not that I’m spoilt. All I want is hot water for my shower, a decent mattress and assurance that all confrontation with wildlife will be restricted to the jeep safaris. Is that asking for too much?
Cheli & Peacock promised that my first two requirements would be taken care of, and I decided to risk it on the third one.
So armed with a tube of mosquito repellent, some antiseptic wipes, a box of plasters and a chivalrous husband who promised to fight off any potential attacks by Kenya’s ‘big five’, I boarded the Kenya Airways flight to Nairobi. Fantastic food and a good night’s sleep later, we taxied into Jomo Kenyatta, Nairobi’s International Airport. As the two of us stood in a mile-long queue for our visas and to complete formalities, our excitement began to turn to exasperation. With enough time to think, I realised I’d forgotten to pack one important thing in my bag – a good attitude.
At that very moment I resolved to be positive throughout the trip, but the moment we sat in the toy plane that Kenya Airways uses to ferry tourists from Wilson, Nairobi’s domestic airport, to Samburu, our first stop, my good intentions flew out of the window.
After a tumultuous hour-long flight, we landed on an airstrip that was no more than a path that a herd of elephants were using to commute to their watering hole. For a moment I felt like a trespasser!
Just then, I looked up to see our welcome committee – a bunch of Masai Mara men in all their livery and a smiling face by the name of Thomas. “Jambo!” he boomed. At least he didn’t say “Hakuna matata,” I said to myself. Putting that flash of cynicism down to travel weariness, we settled down in a Land Rover.
“Welcome to Samburu. I’m going to be taking you to Joy’s Camp,” Thomas explained. “How long is it going to take?” I asked. He beamed. “Are you in a hurry to go somewhere?” he asked. Cheeky, I thought.
Well, that set the tone for our first day in Kenya. As we drove through miles and miles of dry, dusty grasslands, stopping only to capture pictures of the grazing herbivores, ranging from the awkwardly tall giraffes, the gorgeous-in-monochrome zebras, massive mellow elephants, impalas, gazelles and dik-diks, time, I realised was irrelevant.
As we absorbed the magnificence of the landscape in front of us, Thomas announced, “Let’s have lunch.”
“Here?” I asked, looking around at the wilderness. “Why not?” he replied.
Somebody needs to teach this guy the difference between a question and an answer, I told myself.
And before I realised it, Thomas pulled out a picnic hamper from the back of the massive vehicle, a couple of chairs, a table along with starched napkins and set up a charming al fresco lunch underneath a swaying doum palm tree.
As we relished freshly picked fruit, a delicious pasta salad and a calming quiet for accompaniment, we really didn’t feel the need to look at our watches. After grazing and lazing, just like the animals, we reluctantly got back into the vehicle to drive towards Joy’s Camp, letting the warm breeze lull us into an overpowering state of inertia.
“We’re here,” said Thomas waking us up from our siesta.
“Already?” I asked.
“Want to go for another drive?”
he replied, smiling again.
Here we go. This man was definitely beyond redemption.
Alighting from the vehicle, it suddenly struck me. I was in the middle of Shaba Natural Reserve, home to some of Kenya’s fiercest wildlife, and for the next couple of days I was going to be living in a tent. “Beware of snakes in the night,” said the good-natured member of the staff who was escorting us to our tent. That was it. What’s the use of good attitude and positive thinking if you’re going to end up as dead meat?
Terrified, we stopped in front of our home from home – a mix of concrete and cloth – a little more sturdy than a conventional tent, I observed.
As I gingerly pushed the entrance door open, it was love at first sight. I was surrounded by virgin wilderness, the deafening chirps from the birds in the neighbourhood and couldn’t take my eyes off a gorgeous bed large enough to sleep four. Did I mention hot water in the shower? I had that too. And apparently somewhere out there was a fence that would keep us safe from four-legged intruders. Bliss!
Taking off our shoes, we fell back on the bed and closed our eyes. This had to be what tranquillity was all about. Fear, I decided, could wait. After a shower and a cup of tea, we ventured out to explore the property.
Named after Joy Adamson, the famous naturalist and author of Born Free (1960), it is here that she released her favourite leopard, Penny, into the wild after having hand-reared her. An eclectic collection of 10 beautifully designed tents, each very private and exclusive, the property also has a big swimming pool, massage parlour and a handicraft shop for those who want to stay in for RnRnR (the extra ‘r’ is for retail therapy).
And if you assume the kitchen can dish out only game meat, then you are so wrong. “Our properties are eco-friendly and we are totally focused on conservation,” pointed out owners and couple Stefano Cheli and Liz Peacock, which means the fruit and vegetables are grown on the property and the meat comes from a shop.
Sitting underneath the canopy of stars, we gorged on delicious stuffed aubergines and decadent tiramisu for dinner. But as our escort came by with a heavy stick in one hand and a lamp in the other to take us back to our room, sorry tent, that sense of fear that I thought I’d overcome by now, took over. I stomped my way back to the tent in the hope that I’d scare off any wildlife in the vicinity, not realising that I could have attracted their curiosity.
The moment we entered the tent, I scanned the place to ensure that it was free of even ants, but apart from a couple of house lizards – who I believe do not follow orders like ‘shoo’ and therefore should be ignored – the place was safe.
“Are you ready to see some cats?” asked smiley face Thomas the next morning. All refreshed and rejuvenated after much required sleep and a hearty breakfast, my husband and I were like two puppies jumping around at the prospect of being taken out.
“Will we be out for long?” I asked.
“Why, do you have other plans?” Thomas replied. I swiftly got into the Land Rover without another word, conceding Round 3 to him.
While we didn’t spot any wild cats, what we did see was equally spectacular – the Secretary Bird. Over a metre in height, it looks like an eagle on stilettos, and has a plumage that resembles the business suits that secretaries wore in the early Sixties. That’s the explanation behind their ridiculous name, anyway.
But there is no denying that these creatures look dramatic. So much so that you wonder if he has an agent who is in talks with Disney for their next project. The husband, of course, went berserk taking pictures. If this bird is ever in need of a portfolio, he’ll know where to come looking, I told myself.
But then when I looked around I realised the over-the-top Secretary Bird was not the only creature that defied superlatives. From giant baobab trees that were centuries old and intricate beaver nests swinging from fragile twigs of the acacia trees to two-metre-tall termite hills, the magnificence of nature was everywhere.
“Oh, but we still have not seen any game,” moaned the husband. Not one to give up easily, smiley face Thomas promised to take us on a night safari. The promise assuaged the husband but it got my worry antennas up.
However, after dinner – one that I was too scared to enjoy – I borrowed some good attitude from the husband and decided to go along.
If the day drive was a spectacle of size, the night one was stunning in minutiae. First of all, I didn’t know that so many stars could actually fit into our sky. And then the charm of the nocturnal life unfolded in front of us.
A sleek, red spitting cobra slithered past, before a truant hare who thought we were playing tag with him appeared.
“Oh look, there’s a leopard,” whispered Thomas.
“Where?” I hissed back.
“Well, I can see its flickering ear from here, can’t you?” he replied.
Of course, I didn’t see the flickering ear and came back sulking from the loss in the battle of words with smiley face Thomas.
Next day, as we were leaving for our next destination, Mr Cheli and Mrs Peacock, who had by now heard of our ‘disappointing drive’, came by to bid us adieu. “You will definitely see cats in Elsa’s Kopje,” they said.
Assurance or pity, I couldn’t tell but I wasn’t complaining. By now I was well stocked with my own supply of positive attitude and was relishing every moment of my time in the wild – cats or no cats. And the fact that we were leaving Thomas behind added to my renewed enthusiasm.
As the massive Land Rover drove through the rugged landscape and we continued to spot and photograph wildlife, there were still no cats.
“Did you see that heron catch a mouse?” shouted out our driver. Well, that’s game enough for me, and this time, yes, I did see it. Happy with my state, we sped through a jungle; Isiolo, a sleepy town; Mount Kenya, the second highest peak in Africa; and some more jungle to arrive at Elsa’s Kopje, another of Cheli & Peacock’s stunning properties set on top of a hill right in the middle of Meru National Park.
At the outset, the lodges looked rustic to say the least. Thatched roof made from the local grass, balustrades made of logs from fallen trees, cloth for walls, a stunning male agama lizard that looked like a Swarovski creation and a well-fed mongoose-like hyrax for decor.
This place was asking for more than just good attitude. It was demanding courage. And at that moment I did not have any. The sights and sounds of the place had me looking for cover. What if the lizard and the hyrax decided to bring along some friends and pay us a visit at night?
After our five-minute trek through steep stairs and a rope bridge, we stood in front our tent, dreading the prospect of what was ahead (and beneath). As we pushed the rustic wooden door open, I was taken aback. No dread, just fascination. The chalet – I will no longer refer to it as tent as it was far too chic for that – was one of the most beautiful spaces I had ever seen, with an absolutely mind-blowing view.
Our chalet was perched on top of the highest point of the hill, giving us an unobstructed view of the horizon and the landscape below. A gorgeous porch with easy chairs and an open-air bath added to its magnetic charm.
“With a view like this, who needs to see cats?” I said to the husband. “I do,” he replied.
I rolled my eyes but crossed my fingers for his sake.
We went for lunch – one that could easily have been from a Michelin-star kitchen – and then husband and I sat back to enjoy the view of the pretty infinity pool and the curious birds.
Just when we were ready to hit the snooze button, our guide came by.
“Ready to see some game?” he asked. Before I could even unfold myself out of the chair, the husband was in the Land Rover ready for action. So we drove… and drove. But all we saw were the same grazing and lazing giraffes, elephants, zebras, impalas, gazelles and buffaloes. No cats. With only one day left in Kenya, the husband was now getting anxious. What could he tell his friends – that he came all the way to Kenya and didn’t see a single cat, not even a stray loitering around?
Dejected, we drove back to our lodge. “Did you guys see cats?” asked the fellow guests. I opened my mouth to warn them this was now a sensitive issue, but it was too late.
“We saw some earlier in the morning,” they chorused. Now this was insult to injury. Blaming our late arrival, we went back to our chalet praying that our luck would change the next day.
Before that though we faced a dark night ahead. The staff had zipped up the chalet from all sides to prevent the stray wildlife from getting in, but they couldn’t make it soundproof. We went to sleep with sounds of all kinds of shrieks, screeches and howls echoing around us. It might be music to many ears, but not mine. Despite assurances from the staff that local wildlife has never wandered or strayed in too close to the property, I slept thinking that there is always a first time.
Determined to see some cats, the two of us were up and about before dawn next morning. We drove through Rojewero river, which was apparently a popular watering hole for animals big and small, hoping to spot cats. None.
“Do you see those bubbles on the surface of the water?” our guide said, pointing. “It means there’s a crocodile breathing right underneath, and if I’m not mistaken, it’s a big one.”
“But it’s not a cat,” replied the husband. So we drove some more. By now the sun was just about up and life in the jungle had begun to stir. “Look on your right,” whispered the guide. Just to humour him, I did. And what did I see? A lion. Not as majestic as Simba’s father Mufasa in The Lion King, but a proper, real lion nevertheless.
I was numb with shock. Husband, on the other hand, went crazy. If he’d had his way, he would have ran to hug the lion to see if he was for real. As we stealthily drove closer, we saw a pride.
A total of six lions and lionesses were sitting around a carcass of a buffalo, least concerned about one frenetic man trying to take pictures of them from all possible angles. They hung around long enough to allow the man to click a couple of hundred pictures, then, bored, the pride sauntered off.
We drove back to the lodge ruminating over the magical moment. “How many lions did you guys see?” the husband asked the other guests.
“A couple, I think,” replied one of them. You can imagine the look on the husband’s face. Boys will be boys.
Now that we’d done it all, seen it all and heard it all, we were ready for our flight back to Dubai. As we got up the next morning, we realised that our chalet faced east, for right in front of us was a stunning orange ball making its way up the horizon. The two of us just sat there on our bed, transfixed by the beauty of the morning.
And then it was time to pack our bags and say our goodbyes.
A few hours later, as we sat in the airport waiting for our flight, we were both smiling. The husband because he saw cats, and me? I can live in tents.
