Day One
Karibu! the Masai women in bright red and green bellowed as they surrounded our Land Cruiser and thrusted their hand-made wares at our faces: a wooden giraffe, beaded bracelets, kikoi cloth, and more…
We had arrived at the Talek Gate of the Masai Mara Reserve. There we waited for quite some time and rather impatiently as our tickets were processed: a steep $200 for us foreigners, 3000 Kenyan shillings for our Kenyan friends, while our Masai driver and guide, Julius, rode for free.
The time of the year was perfect: it was mid-season of the Great Migration, which runs from July to October, and the children had their bets on the wildebeest.
The yellowish-green blades of grass swayed gently in the wind rolling in front of the car as the rocky, uneven terrain jolted every bone in the body and the dust swarmed around us.
Without much ado, the animals made their appearances one by one: a cheetah crunching on a gazelle, hippos snorting in the river, Luluka the leopard looking for her cub, and warthogs wagging their tails. The Pumba population had certainly exploded since my last visit.
The Herd
At one point, we were intercepted by a herd of elephants: mothers and babies of different sizes. They grazed, they played, they trumpeted. And then something peculiar happened: they arranged themselves in a row, ear to ear, with their behinds facing us.
We would never have figured out what was going on if it were not for Julius and his infinite wisdom. He explained that one of the mothers was feeding her cub and all the others were protecting her while she did so – an amazing display of social protectionism.
Who is the King?
And then we found him: the King of the Jungle. Each of the Big Five boasts its own charm, but no animal can compare to what we saw in front of our eyes: the royal prowl, the majestic dark brown mane, and the formidable eyes left us astounded.
The lion was accompanied by almost seven lionesses, but our eyes were only for him.
At that moment, my niece, who was 11 years old, needed to pee, and she just couldn’t hold it. Chaperoned by her father, she daringly marked her own territory only a few feet away from the lion.
Day Two
On the second day of the safari, we were scheduled to travel across the park to the Mara River, in hopes of capturing nature’s most dramatic and daring phenomenon: the river crossing of the migrating wildebeest.
Julius refused to give a time or a guarantee; it all depended on our luck. The only thing he could confirm was that there had been no movement whatsoever in the past two days.
Come to Mama!
On the way, we took a detour to see what Luluka was up to. She was perched high up, half-camouflaged in a tree with a barely-eaten gazelle. Just then, the driver made a mad dash, and there we saw the leopard cub, Luluka’s son.
The cub passed us across the road, his beautiful spots gleaming in the sun. As expected, the cars screeched in for the prize, and we became part of dozens of cars zigzagging around the cub, pictures clicking and voices buzzing.
It didn’t take long to scare the poor thing back into hiding, back inside the tall blades. Luluka appeared behind us; she was searching intently, growling to alert her son, but the cub had disappeared.
The cars waited and waited; they waited for the cub to reappear and rejoin his mother. My patience was running out as this year I couldn’t afford to miss the chance of a river crossing. Finally, the driver gave up on the cub, and we drove to our breakfast spot in the bush.
We were greeted with a spread of cold boiled eggs, pancakes with Nutella, tea, and coffee, but no omelet since the cook had forgotten to pack the pipe for the gas cylinder.
The Honeymoon
As we left our breakfast spot, we saw cars gathering in the distance. Julius promptly reported that the lion was celebrating his honeymoon. How could Julius tell? Was it a radio call from a fellow Masai or a natural instinct by which he could catch the scents of animals? I will never know.
The lioness was perched on a little mound and her lover was nearby. He rose and approached the lioness and rubbed his muzzle on her neck. The lioness rose and the lion followed. Once the lioness stopped, he rode her and let out a hoarse roar.
The wooing, the rubbing, and the following went on as we watched in awe at the amazing courtship ritual of the feline pair.
To Jump or Not to Jump…
Two hours later, we arrived at the river. A trickle of wildebeests and a couple of zebras were gently trotting away from the river. Oh no! They are turning back, what? It isn’t happening?
One of the wildebeest stopped, turned in the opposite direction, another one down the line did the same, and then another and another. Then the whole line determinedly headed back to the river. I was ecstatic, but not for long.
Once again, they turned back, one wildebeest tailing the other. It was baffling, it was confusing: were they simply so indecisive?
My hopes were blown and out of severe boredom, I grabbed my lunch and took a bite of the burger: two buns slapped with tomatoes and onions. Just then, the Land Cruiser jolted to a start and dashed ahead racing all the other cars: we hung on for our lives, our lunches, and our hats.
Look! They have jumped! Through the cloud of dust I saw them: one wildebeest head followed another floating downriver with the treacherous current.
And then as they made it to the other side, each animal emerged with moused beard and soaked body, shabbily trying to gain footing on the rocky incline. From our vantage point, we could hear the hooves clicking and clambering.
The Croc
Crocodile! My son yelled in my ear. It had been lurking close by and just at the precise moment, it snapped at the last floating wildebeest. The crocodile and the black head disappeared underwater.
Wow! Oh wow! It had been such a lucky day! Such an awesome sighting! As we turned around looking for our other car, we found them: angry, disappointed, let down. The engine had failed to start on them at the most inopportune moment.
They had missed it all, and there was nothing we could do to make them feel better.
Day Three
The third day began early in the morning. The sun was rising over the Savannah: flat grasslands spotted with lone Acacia trees here and there. That is what the name Masai Mara stands for: Masai are the local tribe, and Mara means spotted. I recalled the words of my local friend.
It was going to be a short drive since we were scheduled to return to Nairobi in the afternoon. We found a cheetah in the open, gazing at a herd of wildebeest. Another one was propped on a hillock, fiercely eyeing a moving herd of zebras just a few feet away.
We waited for a quarter of an hour, but there was no action. It was time to move on!
The Spectacle
A lioness was crouched in the tall blades, ready to kill. Behind her, four curious yet terrified giraffes were eyeing the unfolding. The lioness began to crawl stealthily, but the wildebeest got spooked and sprinted away.
The lioness kept moving toward them quietly, camouflaged in the bush. She crouched once again, primed for the kill. Meanwhile, the giraffe moving alongside her was getting a premium view of the action.
The lioness sprinted forward but once again, the wildebeest bolted away. Poor lioness! No breakfast for her today!
It was time for us to leave. With a heavy heart, I left Masai Mara, but the tales of the savannah will live with me for a long time.
If You Go:
What to Pack:
Layers as it gets chilly in the morning and warm in the afternoons. Sunscreen. Bug spray.
The Best Time for Game Drives:
Early mornings are cooler and the best time for animals to hunt.
Late afternoons around sunset are when the animals are most active.
Where to Stay: Mara Napa Luxury Camps
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Author Bio: Travel is in my DNA. Each new destination ignites in me a desire to explore the next. I have travelled to countries in Europe, the Far East, the Middle East and Asia and some of the most exotic places in Africa. And with travel comes a desire to share my experiences, my adventures, my passion and my pictures.
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