Written by Eddie LeShure – This piece was written in February, 2002 when Eddie spent a month traveling in East Africa. We continue with his time at Masai Mara Game Park.
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Within Mara Reserve in Kenya, the Sand River runs east and west, nearly touching the Tanzanian border. At one point there is a hippo pool which we headed for on our second day. After briefly slipping across the border and back (just to be a bit naughty), we stopped and our guide Lawi handed us over to members of the para-military unit of the Kenyan Police who, when not chasing down suspected poachers or helping settle tribal disputes, act as guides for people like us at the hippo pool. Armed with his AK-47, we were led down to the riverbank where groups of hippos lounged around, occasionally bickering with each other, but mostly just keeping cool. Nearby we spotted a crocodile, almost completely submerged, lying in wait for a young hippo to wander too far from the protection of an adult.
Hippos are extremely dangerous. More people are killed each year by hippos than by any other animal. Almost all are killed on land, either at night when the hippos come out of the water to graze, or during the day when hippos injured in their little skirmishes leave the water to let their wounds heal. Our guide told us that he had had to kill one recently when his group encountered just that situation. “I fired a warning shot to try and scare it off, but that didn’t work.” It was obvious that he regretted having to do it, but he added, “What’s strange is that they don’t eat meat at all, they just kill for the fun of it.” I really had to pee. I ducked into the bushes, really, really fast!
There were always several Maasai men hanging around our camp site and the lodge area, draped in their red cloaks, sometimes leaning on their spears looking quite regal and proud, but always smiling and greeting us with a friendly “Jambo”. Later that day, we were told we could hire one of them to accompany us on a walk inside the reserve. “Since they can smell the elephants and lions and he’ll have his spear with him, you’ll be very safe,” we were assured.
So on the second afternoon of our safari we met 38-year-old Narok, who looked every bit the Maasai warrior: lean, strong, and confident. But as we started our walk, we also quickly discovered his warm smile, gentle nature and engaging ways. He wore the traditional garments and carried a club, a fierce-looking knife and the long spear that all Maasai adult men “never leave home without”.
We felt comfortable and secure with him, despite the fact that we were now venturing out into “danger” without the protection of our van, and certainly without an AK-47! It was an entirely different and most exhilarating experience exploring the Serengeti Plains without the insularity of metal and glass surrounding us, striding past the footprints and dung of animals that could be potentially life threatening, not knowing what might be lurking in the bushes.
Shortly after we left the camp Narok stopped and carefully listened to the sound of nearby cowbells. He exclaimed, “That’s my cow… it’s lost… I’ll be right back.” and off he ran, loping off with a stride that he later bragged could carry him “20 km in an hour” (about 12 miles), surely a bit of an exaggeration as world-class marathoners cannot maintain that pace. But, then again, who knows? I would not bet against him.
After returning a few minutes later with problem solved, we walked on, soon coming to an abandoned Maasai boma (village). Since they are nomadic, the families often leave their primitive dwellings and move their cattle elsewhere in order to find better food and water sources. “This isn’t needed anymore. Do you have a lighter?” He’d inspected the surrounding grass and deemed it safe to start a fire, knowing it would not dangerously spread since it had rained a great deal the previous two weeks. Minutes later a huge fire was raging, consuming what had once been someone’s humble abode, now returned to Mother Earth.
With smoke billowing upwards behind us we walked on, threading our way along narrow paths among the brush, bushes and trees: jacarandas, flame trees, cactus-like candelabrias, and the ubiquitous thorn trees (acacias). Another tree we found fascinating, and certainly unique, was the sausage tree, understandably named due to its long sausage shaped fruit hanging from its branches. We occasionally passed enormous mounds of red earth made by termites as we headed toward a prominent ridge, where an hour later we reached a viewing point from which we could overlook the entire valley. The view was stellar – the splendor of the African grasslands in all its glory! Dripping with sweat, we sat on rocks and took it all in as we drank from our water bottle. We offered him some, but he politely declined. “Don’t you get thirsty?” Heide asked.
“I never drink water.” he explained. “Every day I drink four liters of milk. That’s enough. And on Fridays, we mix in blood from a cow and that gives us plenty of strength!” It is reported that the Maasai also mix in their own urine. Maybe he was reluctant to add this, thinking it might be more information than we wanted to know. (And to think that I apparently wasted so much money over the years making up my “energy drinks” in my blender with juice, yogurt, nutritional yeast and pee pollen!)
We relaxed and talked about life these days for his people. It is a hard life, as for many people of Africa. “You know we have to pay to send our children to school.” he said. “It costs a lot. We can’t afford to send all our children, and besides that some of them need to stay at home to watch the cattle.”
And family life? Narok has two wives and six children. We asked how men and women come together as husband and wife and he informed us that when a man wants to marry, the father of the prospective wife is told of this choice, then informs his daughter, who might be as young as 12 or 13. “If she doesn’t like the man and doesn’t want to marry him, can she refuse?” asked Heide.
“Sure she can say no.” he responded. “And after three months she’s asked again and if she still says no, the father kills her.”
Sure she can say no!
I asked him about the legendary hunting skill of the Maasai and whether they do in fact sometimes kill lions with only the basic weapons they carry. “If we need to, sure, no problem!” Apparently the age-old practice of killing a lion to “prove you’ve become a man” or as a requirement for each marriage is dying out, discouraged (for good reason) by the rangers since the lion is under threat like much of the African big game. But these people do live on Simba’s turf, and protecting their families and valuable cattle from Public Enemy #1 is still their responsibility.
He said that yes he had killed lions, and to demonstrate the efficacy of his weapon, he pointed, “See that bush over there?” It was about 20 yards away. When we nodded, he let fly with his heavy, but razor-sharp spear – bull’s eye! “It’ll go clear through the lion,” he said convincingly, and we had no reason to doubt it. “And we also have our knife to finish the job if we need to!” he grinned. Though later he added, “But once in a while when a man goes out to kill a lion that’s eating his cattle, he never comes back.”
Narok did seem to have made some concessions to the modern world. He was wearing very modern walking sandals (Birkenstocks?), as well as very smart-looking shorts under the traditional clothing. He also had a set of keys hanging on a thin cord around his neck. Heide and I speculated that possibly these were used for locking up his ten-speed bike?
The next morning we headed out for another game drive. Although it warms up considerably during the day, at dawn we bundled up against the cool air as our van meandered through the reserve, each pair of eyes searching, each pair of hands (except mine) clutching a camera in anticipation of another “great shot”. Once again we struck gold!
A mother cheetah and her four nearly mature cubs were on a hunt. The target: a herd of Thomson’s gazelles, who were well aware of the cheetahs’ presence as they grazed. As the mother slowly moved closer, the herd would also ease away, always closely watching her, keeping a safe distance away. The four cubs were observing intently, clustered together several meters behind their mother/trainer.
But then, as if by some unacknowledged pre-arranged signal, the cubs suddenly moved as a group, slowly spreading out, creating a line, each cub about 20 meters apart along one side of the herd. The mother remained still, crouched down in the grass. The cubs continued to move, now in full view of the gazelles. “They’re confusing the herd,” our driver George informed us. “The gazelles don’t know which cheetah to watch.” Then the cub farthest from the mother eased into a gentle trot towards the herd in an effort to direct them back towards mom. The strategy worked, as some of the gazelles took off, angling somewhat toward the mother. Gazelles are fast… really fast! But as you probably learned as a kid in school like I did, the cheetah is the world’s fastest land animal, capable of reaching speeds of up to 75 mph. They cannot maintain that speed for more than about 100 yards, but in this case, the mother needed far less than that to overtake one of the gazelles, apparently the slowest one (Darwin’s theory at work here).
Because the culmination of the chase took place behind some brush we did not see the actual kill, but our vehicle quickly headed off in that direction and we soon came upon the cheetah clutching the gazelle’s neck, panting heavily. We stopped, turned off the engine, and soon the cubs appeared. The mother dropped her prize and stood sentry watching for other predators, as the cubs commenced with their breakfast. “Guten appetite.” I thought silently.
From no more than 10 feet, we silently watched for about 30 minutes while they fed. After the cubs had had their fill, the mother then settled down to take her turn, and the cubs with their blood-smeared faces took turns watching for lions, hyenas, and others predators that might encroach on their fresh kill. It was spectacular to witness it all in such close proximity.
After three nights at Masai Mara, it was time to move on to Lake Nakuru National Park.
To be continued……….
Eddie LeShure is an insight meditation teacher and substance abuse counselor whose primary passion is bringing mindfulness practice into the realms of addiction recovery, trauma relief, and self-care. He teaches and leads groups in various treatment and recovery settings, as well as in series classes, workshops, retreats, conferences and conventions.
Eddie began meditating in the early ‘80s, regularly teaches at Asheville Insight Meditation, is a NAMI Family Support Group Facilitator, and is co-founder of A Mindful Emergence, LLC (amindfulemergence.com).
These days, Eddie’s writing centers around his teaching and presentations, but in the past it was quite different. He chronicled and displayed his adventures around the world for several years under the banner, “On the Road With Fast Eddie,” and in more recent times numerous articles on the local jazz scene were published in Rapid River Arts & Culture as “WNC Jazz Profiles.”
Eddie is now co-authoring a manual for treatment centers which focuses on integrating mindfulness practices with stages of addiction recovery.
