We travelled to Kenya in August 2018, and I wrote this blog post in September 2018 when the memories were fresh. I jotted down info on my Samsung Notes during the trip. I had learnt a few Swahili words and exhibited my knowledge to the locals. Our guide, Moses, had answers to all my questions. Since the others in the van weren’t keen on sitting in the front seat, I hopped into the seat beside the driver, clicking pictures, pointing at trees, birds, animals, and buildings, and shooting questions. Sujith asked if I had plans to take up a job as a guide in Kenya. This travelogue is a 4-part series.
Chapter 1 KARIBU (WELCOME)
Into the Wild: From Dubai’s Glitz to Kenya’s Savannah
After the glamour-soaked high of Dubai, Jomo Kenyatta International Airport felt… ordinary. A cool breeze greeted us as we stepped off the flight, and already the contrast was stark. Living in Dubai spoils your sense of wonder; everything that isn’t gold-plated and gleaming feels underwhelming.
We were a group of 25: five Tamil-speaking couples with their energetic, snack-laden kids and the two of us. They were all neighbors back in Dubai and apparently, regular vacation buddies. At the arrivals, we were met by representatives from Sawa Sawa (which we learned means “OK OK” in Swahili), partners of Akbar Travels. A tall, dark man with an unpronounceable name gave us a welcome speech, laying out the rules and plans for the trip.
It was nearing lunchtime, and we had to wait for another group to land. The Tamil gang, ever generous, shared their chapatis and pickle with us. Kids equal snacks, and they had come prepared. We picnicked in the parking lot.
As we got ready to board the three minivans lined up for us, we were pulled aside. We’d be traveling with another couple, who would be arriving on a later flight from Dubai. Already tired from delays, the extra 1.5-hour wait did not improve our mood. We passed the time people-watching – jubilant groups of tourists streamed out of the airport, reminding us of Holden cars or pop bands (no relation, of course).
Our new companions arrived: a Malayalee couple with two kids. We were now complete.
Our driver, Moses, was a small, wiry man with an easy smile. The first thing I noticed? Crows. But not just any crows, these had white chests! Moses told us they were Pied Crows, or Corvus albus. Sujith gave me a knowing look. He knew I’d be testing our driver/guide’s patience with my curiosity. We took a few photos before beginning our journey to the Masai Mara National Reserve, approximately 280 km away, which is roughly a six-hour drive.
As we left Nairobi, I was glued to the window, capturing the stone buildings and suburbs with my camera. They resembled military quarters typically found in cantonments. The Malayalee family seemed disinterested, already half-asleep. But I was wide-eyed, soaking in every moment.
The Great Rift and a Greater Realization
We stopped at a viewpoint overlooking the Great Rift Valley escarpment near Mai Mahiu. The sign said it stretched from Israel to Mozambique—9,600 km. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. Such vastness! We clicked photos, browsed the curio shop (mostly just window shopping), and carried on.
As we drove, the landscape shifted dramatically. The Savannah opened up in front of us…a golden straw-hued carpet dotted with flat-topped Acacia trees. Mountains framed the horizon, the dense forest a striking contrast to the open plains. Sheep danced across the fields, cows grazed lazily, and to our delight, giraffes made a casual appearance. I took a deep breath, clean, crisp, pollution-free air.
A strange-looking plant caught my eye. Moses told us it was the Agave sisalana, commonly called the Sisal tree. He had a degree in biology, which meant I got a bonus lecture (which I loved). He explained how sisal is used to make rope, mats, and bags. Young plants resemble a pineapple shrub, and as they grow, a tall stalk emerges with bushy, flower-like structures. Locals use them to mark land borders. (Yes, I Googled it later!)
The Final Stretch: Bumpy Roads and Bladder Battles
The last hour of our drive was brutal; there were no roads, just bumpy tracks. But Moses powered through like the biblical Moses parting the sea. It was near sunset, and by the time we entered the forested area, it was pitch dark. Our camp, Siena Springs, was supposed to be close… but in the absence of light or signboards, we were truly lost.
Then came my moment of crisis: my bladder gave out a distress call. I pleaded with Moses to stop, but he refused. “Too dangerous,” he said. Wild animals roam at night. But desperate times… I insisted, jumped out of the van with Sujith following, our very own till-death-do-us-part moment. The others closed the van doors and remained in place.
Eventually, after going in circles, we stumbled upon a workers’ lodge, and they guided us to our camp.
The Camp at Last: Under African Skies
The Siena Springs camp was straight out of a dream. Tents nestled in the jungle, a wooden deck, and a table for two outside. Inside, a cozy bedroom and a simple wash area. There was no electricity….just a generator that ran for a few hours, but I didn’t mind. Moonlight bathed the camp, and the only sounds were those of nature.
I worried about snakes and bugs, but was reassured. An electric fence surrounded the camp, and surprisingly, I didn’t spot a single insect. Dry season, I guess, they were on vacation too.
A hot shower and a Sawa Sawa dinner later, we collapsed into bed, sleeping like logs under the starry African sky. Exhausted, but already in love with Kenya.
Coming up next: Wildlife safari and sightings, and jumping Maasai.
