CHAPTER 2 HAKUNA MATATA (NO WORRIES)
Into the Wild: A Day in the Masai Mara
Mambo (Wassup), everyone!
Our stay at Siena Springs Camp was as close to an off-the-grid experience as you can get. The camp runs its generator from 5 AM to 11 AM and again from 6 PM to 11 PM, meaning any action after dark or before sunrise happens in complete darkness. Naturally, that meant planning our day around generator hours, and with the best game drives happening early, we decided to head out by 6:30 AM.
Except… I may have misjudged the time.
Excited for the day ahead, I jumped out of bed when I saw the lights were on, and assumed it was 5 AM. I promptly woke up Sujith, only to realize it was still 4 AM. His glare could have lit the tent on its own. The generator had come on early, and my internal clock betrayed me!
We were ready on time, but our co-travelers made a fashionably late appearance, and we finally set off at 7:45 AM. Before entering the reserve, we paused for some photos at the gate and picked up a few souvenirs from the friendly Masai (also Maasai) traders. With the van’s roof popped up two feet, we were ready to stand and soak in every moment, strictly instructed not to get down until the drive was done. Six hours in the wild… my only worry? The bladder.
Almost immediately, we were surrounded by a “dazzle” of zebras. They posed effortlessly, some staring curiously, others completely ignoring us. I could have stared at them all day, but a few minutes was enough for my eyes to see the black and white striped pattern everywhere. Thomson’s gazelles darted by, petite, elegant, and shy. Elands stood motionless, lined up like schoolchildren being punished.
The landscape stretched endlessly. With a pair of binoculars we’d bought just before the trip, I tried adjusting the focus over my spectacles. Easier said than done on the bumpy ride! Moses, our guide, had near-telescopic vision, and he spotted creatures far in the distance. We saw Secretary birds striding through the grass, displaying their plumes, the Kori Bustard – the heaviest bird capable of flight, and a colourful Barbet on a bare tree branch.
Then came the king.
A lion, resting in the bushes. Distant, but majestic. Through the binoculars, it felt like he was right in front of me. Sujith and I traded places between the camera and the binoculars, thrilled at the sight.
But it was the wildebeest migration that truly took our breath away. Millions. Yes, millions of them blanketing the plains, moving in herds, grazing, roaming. No photo or video could do justice to the sheer scale of this “confusion” of wildebeest. It was nature’s drama at its finest.
Midday, we stopped for a picnic under a tree. The camp provided a packed lunch, and we munched on sandwiches while standing around the van. Moses found us a secluded spot for a quick loo break. A truly wild experience, imagine hiding behind a bush in lion country, just hoping nature doesn’t come calling in return.
Later, we spotted a lone elephant silhouetted against golden grass and blue skies, a living painting. Tall grass made it tough to approach, but the memory lingers. We reached the Masai River, the famous crossing point of the migration. Here, wildebeests face the jaws of crocodiles as they cross into the Serengeti. It’s nature at its rawest.
And then, tinkle time again. I begged Moses, who reluctantly let me out. Sujith stood guard (not sure if he was protecting me from predators or saving himself from my whining). Minutes later, just as we rolled away, we saw her: a lioness under a tree. Then another. And another. Soon, we were surrounded-seven lionesses, seven people in the van. A perfect, pulse-raising standoff. They lounged, uninterested in us. Perhaps they were full. Perhaps we weren’t appealing. We moved on, exhaling in unison.
Giraffes have always fascinated me – they are graceful, tall, and oddly elegant. Maybe my yearning for a few extra centimetres in height was why I liked this tall creature. I’d first seen them at Al Ain Zoo in the UAE, since there are none in the Chennai Zoo. The Masai Giraffes were stunning with their unique patterns. Watching them stretch their necks for acacia leaves or awkwardly spread their legs to graze was a gentle contrast to the wild drama we’d just witnessed.
The buffaloes, one of the Big Five, stood their ground with a lazy, intimidating stare. A cheetah rested on a nearby treetop, completely unbothered by the crowd of safari vans. Above, vultures circled ominously. We missed spotting a rhino this time, but hey, maybe next trip!
Our last stop before heading back was a Masai tribal village just outside the reserve. The welcome was warm and colorful. One man, wearing a lion’s mane, claimed he had killed a lion at age 10. “Folklore,” Moses whispered, smiling. But when I showed his photo to my young friend Parik in Dubai, his eyes sparkled. “He’s like the Black Panther!” he said. The man’s stick, he insisted, must be vibranium. Whatever!
The Masai men performed their famous jumping dance. We learned that the higher a man jumps, the more desirable he is as a groom, apparently, a key factor in winning a bride. Women sang joyfully, and I joined in a playful attempt to mimic their steps. The chief’s son explained their customs: multiple wives, dowries paid in cattle, and a tight-knit extended family structure. He would soon marry a girl chosen by his parents, and hoped to stick with one wife! He explained that the first wife was selected by his parents, but the rest were his wishes.
We purchased some handmade tribal artifacts before returning to camp, just as thunderclouds gathered. I managed to snap a few shots of the tents and surroundings before the skies opened up. Rain poured down, accompanied by thunder and lightning — a dramatic finale to an epic day. The chill, the sound, the wild energy, it felt like nature was putting on a show just for us.
As the raindrops drummed the canvas tent, we knew: the wildebeest were on their way to Tanzania, across the Masai river, and we had been lucky enough to witness their journey.
Coming up next: Falmingoes, flies, and dancing matchsticks.
