Slums And 20 Hour Train Rides

After a lifetime of dreaming, lots of planning, and three flights from South Africa (including a beautiful walk across the runway in Malawi)



...Ryan and I arrived in Kenya. We met up with Marya and found our ride outside. I was sad it was dark, so we quickly went to bed to start our adventure in the morning.



For the first two days we were pretty awesome tourists, going to visit the Giraffe center, Elephant Orphanage, and National Park Safari walk which unbeknown to us was basically a zoo.





The coolest though was a center that teachest about traditional Kenya tribes. They preformed dances and chants and songs and it really made me want to go back in time to see it when it wasn't in an auditorium.



We also stopped by the local Masai market. Hundreds of vendors called you, welcomed you, and grabbed you, begging you to look at their often homemade products. They must be used to rich tourists though because their prices were ridiculous. I bought a few things, but not until we bartered the price close to 70%!



Wednesday Ryan headed home and Marya and I to the train station for a ride across the country. The train ride was unbelievable, top five experiences.



We arrived to the old station, with a cracked floor, antient toilets, old letter boards...and we met our ride. An old, rickety, brown train.



We pulled out of the station right on schedule and every inch of the train creaked and jolted and swayed and made us question its reliability, but all part of the adventure.



The toilet? A hole onto the tracks. My dad had told me when he rode the train 30 years ago thats what they had for a toilet. Somehow I guess I expected some improvement. Haa.


 
As we rolled out of Nairobi, we saw a different side of it. A side unseen to the common tourist surrounded by big buildings and well dressed businessmen.



We passed slums, tin houses, and people living among the most garbage I'd ever seen. Pictures really don't do it justice. In places, people honestly set up tents in the garbage dumb.



My heart broke for them yet at the same time I've never been filled with so much joy -- as we passed, kids ran out to meet us. They smiled huge toothy smiles and waved with all their energy. It wasn't just the kids though. The adults, wearing old yet modern clothes, carrying baskets on their heads, or bags of food to take to their families, smiled the most beautiful smiles and I longed so deeply to know them, and not just pass by.



We continued past "shops" - little tin roofs over every pot and pan and sock imaginable. Right by the tracks, nearly too close to see. The city gave way to desert with tumble weed and gazells and zebras roaming, and the people became scarce. Every few miles there would be a settlement in the middle of nowhere and the kids would wave and the teen boys would blow kisses.



We couldn't pull ourselves away from the windows, until the sun sank below the horizon leaving the sky purple and orange and red and fading to the brightest stars I've ever seen.



After a delicious, fancy dinner we went to bed early, eager for the morning sunrise and more views.



Its hard to sleep on a noisy old train, even though we had a nice sleeper car with comfy beds. Every bump or screech we would wake up. At 3:30 we stopped for two hours to wait for another train, giving us a chance for a nice nap and then...It was morning.



It was a different world. The flat desert had turned into green trees and hills in the distance. The houses were mostly natural and occasionally brick; the women wore more traditional clothes, colorful dresses, the soil so red among the green.



One of my favorite moments was when the train stopped for a good 30 minutes and an entire school of kids ran out to see us, laughing and talking and staring. They didn't speak English, but sometimes smiles say it all.



Finally, 20 hours later, we arrived in Mombasa to the most madness I've ever seen. The bus station was packed with colorful, rundown vans that followed no rules. Everyone fought for the tourists and then to get on the road. After getting on a van run by kids higher than kites, it took a long hour to manuever out of the van jam and through the city of two lane turned five lane (everyone going every direction and passing on the shoulders.)



We drove to a beach town called Mtwapa where we got a moterbike (called bodabodas, name originally border-to-border) to our hostel...finally.



The beach was one of the most beautiful I've been on. Walking out to the sand during low tide, the ground was all rock with fossilized fish and coral and shells. Because of the rocks, the ocean left shallow puddles everywhere creating perfect reflections of the sky.



After some time soaking in the beauty, Marya and I went for a walk through the village. The hostel was quite a trek from the main town, and the "roads" were dusty and curvy with chickens and kids running everywhere. The kids all grinned and yelled, "jambo!" Which is hello in Swahili.



The boys in the town were uncomfortably intense. You could tell that tourists were a rarity, espcially young girls traveling solo. They didn't reach out, often they ignored our hellos, but just stared. We walked a bit, talked to some kids and older women (the older women were (almost) always soo nice and welcoming everywhere we went) then headed back to the hostel where we hung out with Marvin, a high energy local who never, ever stopped smiling.



We ate a delicious dinner of...really weird food...while fighting off countless hungry cats before heading to our little cabana, sleeping in a cozy bed under a mosquito net, the pouring African rain waking us in the night before finally, the morning I'd been waiting for for so long...

South Africa Safaris

(Potentially graffic content. Read at your own risk if you do not support hunting for food or seeing meat before it's on the table.)


South Africa has the weirdest bugs. There is a huge green fly/bee/dragon fly buzzing around my head. And thats far from the weirdest.



There are pomegranates hanging from bushes a few feet away. It's so quiet, except for birds and bees. Butterflies of every size and color flutter everywhere, landing breifly on flowers just as varied.



We are sitting under a thatch-roof building, chilling on a field lunch break after a morning of stalking Impalas and watching ths skinning of a Zebra.


(It was alive an hour ago.)

I asked our tracker if he was ever sad when animals died. He laughed and said no. How could he? It is their life. Their food. Their income.



The PH guide John comes and jokes with Brittany, "Youre sleeping? Really? There's Gemsbuck in the road. Let's go." She questions his integrity just a second before she pulls her boots on and jumps up, eager to find her dream animal. I was lucky enough to get one yesterday. It was the most thrilling hunt. We saw them from the truck, and hopped off, quietly trailing them for an hour or so. We would see them, pose for a shot before they trotted off again through the thickest brush, every single bush full of thorns trying to rip us apart.



We lost sight of them and got back in the truck to try to catch a glimpse of them. The sun was going down, but we weren't done yet. We drove in their direction and saw them beneath a tree downhill a bit. Stephan jumped up on the seats in the truck bed and demands, "Use my shoulder as a rest. Shoot it."

I jumped up, centered it in the cross hairs, and fifteen seconds later, we heard the beast hit the ground. We hit high five and he hugged me.

It took another fifteen minutes to get through the thorns to see her. We wondered how we would get her out, but the locals brought a big loader and drove right over the thorns. It took four men to load her, two more to get her in the truck. She's big.



It's just part of this adventure that makes it thrilling.



The Lodge is fantastic. There are four groups from all over the US, plus the local guides, skinners, and trackers. We eat three meals a day together, and split into our little hunting groups in between. At night, we sit around a camp fire telling stories and sharing wisdoms.



It's a little slice of hunter heaven.



Every morning and afternoon we drive, track, and admire the animals.



Day one I got a perfect shot on a Blesbuck. It was absolutely delicious. 



Every day we also get nap time when the sun is too hot and animals don't move. Yes please.

Much like the hunting culture in the USA, these people love their wildlife and do their best to ensure the quality of the genetics. Stephan, who does most of the animal spotting, told us about Kenya and how hunting has stopped, but due to the huge inbreeding now, the animals are becoming weak and unhealthy. The animals in SA are strong and healthy, and plentiful, thanks to a consistant change of dominant animals that are taken for food.



The local hunting guides also care for and feed the wild animals in times of drought. Currently a season of plentiful food and water, the animals are fat and healthy. All of the meat, bones, hide, and internal organs of the harvested animals are used, every bit.



The company I am here with runs an organization (Wild Wildabeest Childrens' Foundation - check it out!) where they support a school of 110 kids, providing meals of meat and other food to kids who otherwise often survive off of rice crackers - little nutritional value, but something to fill their stomachs. Two or three days a week, they don't eat at all. Although I won't be able to help in the school on this trip, the owner told me, "The kids gobble their heaping plates with tears in their eyes and huge smiles on their faces."



Helping wildlife, helping people, doing what I love, and experiencing new cultures. I'm so blessed.

Welcome To Africa

A six hour flight that felt more like a thousand after the excitement of the last few days. Luckily I slept through the two hour delay due to UAE weather, and here we are...South Africa.



Why, why did I buy a round trip ticket and not a one way? Dumb, dumb. I think I'm sounding like a broken record, but I think I'm in love with Africa. Can I just clone myself and live everywhere?



I know what it was. Fear. I was afraid of traveling Africa alone. Afraid of the men. Afraid of getting around...even though I've read of many American girls who have done it and reported nothing but good things. Guess I'll have to come back to do traveling Africa the right way. :D



We arrived to a beautiful sunset, a simple entry stamp and no forms. We were greeted by overly-helpful taxi drivers, one who helped with luggage and directed us to a pay phone to call our hostel. He helped with money and dialing multiple numbers to no answer, then offeded to drive us for cheap. We thanked him and went to find wifi to contact our ride.



Outside, the vehicles were all driving on the wrong side of the road.



On the drive, there were ragged men at nearly every stop light. Asking for money,  holding squeegies, offering to wash your windows. Countless holding up their thumbs asking for rides - we are told that picking up hitchhikers is a very, very bad idea and an invitation to be robbed.



A quick night in a lovely hostel with no people and we were picked up by our safari guide, Stephan. And a whole week with the crazy guy and I still failed to get a picture...

A few hours into our drive we were pulled over. Well...not pulled over. I honestly don't know how the people know to stop. Just because they realize they were speeding when they notice  the traffic police?



So the guy comes to the window, they start joking around, asks Stephan to come to his "office" which is the back of his police truck. They take care of business and we are on our way.

And we ask about it Stephan says,

"Welcome to Africa, anything is possible."

And

"Here in Africa, money talks."

Basically, he got out of a couple hundred dollar fine by bribing the officer.

"Can't we work this out another way?" Stephan asked.
"What do you have in mind?"
"Do you smoke?"
The officer said "Yes." Stephan gives officer a cigarette.
"You're gonna have to give me more than that." Stephan reaches in his poccket, pulls out his cash, hands it to him, and goes on his way.

He said never try that with a woman though, you won't get away with it.

As we drove out of the city, it started looking more like...Africa. everywhere in South Africa it is a pretty even mix of European and African looking people. Like the states, SA people hire African immigrants from poorer countries, cheap labor, leaving many natives without jobs. In desperation they do anything for money. Streets are lined with vendors selling fruit and other products, trying to make a living.



The houses are rough tin shacks surrounded by dust and browned trees.The women are wrapped in thin clothes to keep cool, some with baskets on their heads and others with babies strapped to their backs.



Stephan, whose native language and culture is Africaans, says there are 11 official languages. Everyone speaks English, though it is really hard to understand, Africaans, and 9 indiginous languages.


We drive past corn fields, soybean fields with irrigation pipes, and grassy pastures with goats, horses, and cacti. Apart from the red clay ground (that I'm told is actually very fertile), it's not too different than the midwest USA.



We passed a herd of baboons playing in the road, ugly things with adorable babies clinging to their backs. Ryan asks why we don't see any dead on the road, Stephan says they are smart enough to not get hit.



I think for the secondish time in my life I got a bit of culture shock. I just went from every-comfort-possible snowy USA to the sunny desert middle east to middle of NOWHERE Africa with giraffes and thorns on everything and only wifi if you stand in that perfect spot outside behind the dining room and the satelite hits just right.



But I like it.

Country 21. South Africa.