if an elephant falls on me, will i die?

this current stint in the mara has been one of many firsts. so ill start with the first first. first, this was the first time that i have not only been left in camp to guide with anthony not around, but i had to manage camp as well. (how many times can i use first in the intro?)

this safari marked the first time i lost my temper with the crew. with anthony not around and kamau, the crew chief, in nairobi, i was pretty much the boss of the camp. and they took advantage of me starting from day one. i could see this coming and at first (thats six) i could deal with it. things were still getting done, albeit a bit slower than normal. but when the mess tent flooded one night during a torrential downpour and we had to clean it in the morning, i lost it.

the waiters were in the tent mopping and john came to me to complain; he had asked the rest of the staff for help and, being a very jr. member of the crew, the simply laughed at him. i stormed back to the crew area to find them warming up around the fire. i told them to go help john and they exchanged some words in swahili that i didnt understand. one masai then got up and walked off dejected to help the mopping effort. now breakfast was in 30min, and three people could not get this job done.

i asked them if thats all they were going to do, and the rest told me it was not their job. i lost it, completely blew my top.

'your job is exactly what needs to be done right now, and if i tell you that its mopping the mess tent, then you get down there and you mop the damn tent...please' i told them, trying to contain any yelling to avoid waking the clients.

i immediately thought id overstepped my bounds as they looked at me with shocked faces, but they slowly got up and went about their business. i was all the more incensed because one of the guys down there had malaria and should not even be working, he should be taking his meds and resting. but he knew that if he did, nothing would get done.

i called anthony to tell him about my outburst and apologize. but none was needed. he said i did exactly the right thing, that the crew was notoriously lazy without him and kamau around and, being the one in charge, i needed to do just that, take charge. it felt good. for the first time i was really doing a full time job; managing camp, guiding, solving problems, etc.

i gained a new level of respect amongst the staff after that, and although i apologized, they conceded that they were in the wrong.

also, i managed to get my car so stuck in a small river that i had to leave it overnight. i assured the clients i could get it out at first (thats another one) but soon realized that i had lied. not the first time ive lied to the wageni. after repeated attempts to winch the car out and almost burning out the clutch on james' (the other guide) car, all the while being videotaped by an american family who passed by and found this wildly entertaining, i was very stuck. the car had sunk up to the chassis and was not going anywhere without the help of something very heavy duty. i then realized that i knew of a camp, rekero, that had a tractor. i phoned patrick at naibor and he gave me the number of the rekero manager.

i called and, in as diplomatic a voice i could manage (which was not very diplomatic at the time), i informed him that i worked for naibor and was in need of a tractor. there is a bitter rivalry between rekero and naibor, and being one of the guides for naibor while im in camp, the rivalry runs even deeper. however, i knew that our camp had bailed out his cars on numerous occasions and he owed us, big time.

the clients abandoned my stricken vehicle like people leaving a sinking ship and all piled into our other car for the ride back to camp. i was humiliated. i had made it across the same crossing twice the day before, but it was in a different car and this new land rover was apparently not up to the challenge.

gerard, the rekero manager, told me he would send the tractor, which i met at 530am the following morning. i was cold, miserable and up to my knees in mud when they arrived, laughing at me for how stuck i had managed to get. screw it, at least they are here.

the car popped out with some effort and once again i was back to guiding, albeit with a very wounded ego. but enough about that. i want to tell you all about my last safari (ive done two, in the last week, but the first was much more noteworthy). ill start with the clients...

i had a total of five for this four day safari. the eldest were a set of grandparents that had brought along their two grandkids for the safari, as well as their grandkids' stepmom (pauline). this provided for a very interesting dynamic. not only was the stepmother married to the father of the children, the father was not even related to the parents. the kids were born out of wedlock by their daughter, who later left the father living in france. the father had since remarried to pauline. i know, i wish i could draw a family tree here, its comlicated. but in short, pauline had no relation to the kids nor to the grandparents.

as for pauline: she was one of those new-age granola hippies; she believed in all sorts of crap. one more than one occasion, as we bounced along the rough roads of the mara, she would inhale deeply and let out some sort of very sexual groan, at which point she would request that i stop the car. not being one to argue with clients, i obliged her request. she would then leap out of the car, bend over and begin walking out into the grass. this was a bad idea for many reasons, but i really wanted to see where she was going with this. then, she would get down on all fours (you cant make this up), pick some grass reeds, crush them up in her hands, and then take a handful of dirt. now, she lifted this mix to her face, practically smearing her nose in it, and would let out another of her strangely erotic moans. i could barely stifle my laughter as she turned around to exclaim what a delightful smell this was. i laughed mainly because the ground was covered in elephant dung. im pretty sure she takes lots of bubble baths and listens to yanni everynight, most likely while getting high on glue.

not only this, she claimed that she had some sort of bizarre back problem, causing her great pains whenever the car would bounce around, which was quite often. but instead of crying out in pain everytime this back problem irritated her, she let out loud, very pronounced shrieks that once again sounded as if she was being intensely pleasured. she would then apologize, assuring us that the noise was involuntary and a product of the discomfort she incurred as a result of bumpy car rides. secretly, i think the enjoyed the vibrations of the car over bumpy roads and could not contain her ecstasy. at least thats what it sounded like.

like i said, she believed in all sorts of new age stuff and to explain one of the children's very hyperactive attitude, she claimed it was because he was born on the day that his grandmother was buried, causing great stress for the mother, which was then passed on in the form of hyper behavior to the child. this was while we were at dinner, and after this comment, you should have seen the look the grandparents shot me. when she went off to the bathroom, the grandfather exploded in a fit of laughter, unable to believe what he had just heard. 'boys will be boys' he said, 'its nothing more than that. this lady is crazy.' indeed.

the children: french. young and french, with an english stepmother.

every night at dinner they insisted on sitting right next to me. now there are two things in this world that really bother me; one is when after the breakup, an ex-girlfriend ends up having more girlfriends (yes, girlfriends) than you, and the other is bad table manners. seeing as how these children did not fall into the former category, they had abhorrent table manners. they smacked constantly with their mouths open as they shovelled food into their faces. they sounded like a marathon runner on mile twenty tgrying to choke down a chunk of peanut butter the size of their fist. it was disgusting.

not only this, the kids refused to shower. this led me to debate the myth of whether or not french people really smell as bad as people say...

ive spent some time in france here and there and, in my personal opinion, ive discovered that they dont smell as bad as people say. most of the french smell like they have bathed in chanel no. 5 and then doused their entire body in a very musky smelling aftershave. actually, on second thought, this is terribly offensive to my olfactory, so i think they do actually smell. but these kids put the whole of france to shame. but honestly, ive only noticed the smell while in close quarters with the french on the paris metro. so really, i think its the paris metro that gives the french the bad rap.

after not showering for four days straight, the kids took on an extremely pungent odor. they smelled like the metro on a hot summer day; a nice blend of jock strap and goat cheese.

they did, however, provide me with one very entertaining afternoon. i had to go to talek, the nearest town, at one point while they were in camp and they begged me to let them accompany me on this three hour excursion to get some more supplies and cell phone credit. i relented and they excitedly hopped into the car.

on the way to talek, i took them by the lions we saw feeding earlier in the morning to see what they were up to. shortly after entering the lions' territory, i found one snoozing under a tree, and pressed on deeper into the bush to find the rest. terrible idea.

i soon became stuck on a very large rock. it had become wedged under the car, lifting the front two tires off the ground and prohibiting any further movement. i had to get out of the car, jack it up and hope it slid off the rock. once again, i was stuck in the middle of lions. some heads began to pop up from about 20yds away and look at me in a very curious manner. thats it, i thought, im going to die in front of two small children as a result of a vicious lion attack and traumatize them for the rest of their lives. this would surely be more unsettling than being born on the day your maternal grandmother is buried. but alas, the lions were only curious, and only one actually got up and took a few steps towards the car. i made some loud noise, banging the lug wrench agains the jack and the lion stopped in its' tracks, more confused than ever.

after taking care of business in the town of hourly hotels, hookers and goats, we headed back for our camp along the mara river. on the way back, we came upon some lions again. at some point during our viewing of these lions, the female got up, brushed her tail in the face of the mail and then presented herself for some lion nookie.

'gwahnt, what are zey doing, ze lie-ons?' asked one of the kids. their accents were unlike any other french accent i have heard. this may have to do with the fact that they are from the south of france. they sounded as if they were constantly trying to expectorate a softball-sized wad of phlegm with every word.

er, i thought, it is not in my job description to explain the birds and the bees to 9 and 11 year old children. but what the hell, ill give it a shot as best i can.

'they are making baby lions' i told them.
'ow do zey do zis, ze making of baby lie-ons?'
crap. 'have you ever played with legos?' i asked them,
'oui.'
'well,' i began, 'theres boy legos and girl legos. and when you put them together, you get baby lions. they fit into each other jsut like legos and it makes something in the end.'
'ahh, oui oui'
a wee-wee indeed. i should teach sex ed.

now i was pretty sure they knew where babies came from, but being the consummate safari guide i decided not to shun the question, even though thats pretty much exactly what i had just done.

as a side note, lions mating is hilarious. for being the king of the jungle, the male does not give a very kingly performance; hes good for about 15 seconds, at which point he lets out a loud, gutteral roar and dismounts. the female, once again left wondering why her mate is known as the 'king', rolls over and furiously swats the male across the face with one of her large paws, as if to say 'once again youve given a very unkingly performance.' this is repeated every twenty minutes for about 4 days on end.

back to the story of the kids: their accents were, at times, indecipherable. on one occasion, tio, the youngest asked me a question:

'gwahnt, can we go find some of ze lepers?'
lepers? no, im sorry. there are no leper colonies here in the mara. i think you have come to the wrong place for shock tourism.

another instance:
tio: 'i would weally like a crap wight now.'
'very well then,' i said, 'here is some toilet paper, let me just go to the nearest bush and make sure theres nothing hiding behind it'
'no no, a CRAP, like one zat you can eat.'
perhaps this new age psycho-babble was true if what i was hearing was in fact accurate. i then flashed back to a book i had read (stephen clarke, a year in the merde, read, funniest thing ever) and realized that the child was talking about crepes.

'oh i see, well i think we can cook those in camp. ill see what i can do. do you still need the toilet paper?'

now the grandparents were a whole other story. they lived in kenya and exhibited the attitudes of the old colonialists. they referred to the camp staff as 'delightful specimens' and spoke of the days when men were men and beast were beasts, whatever the hell that means.

on only one occasion did they manage to really offend me. at dinner, they spoke of the overpopulation of africa. the grandfather then remarked that aids was not doing enough in africa, and we needed it to explode, or perhaps another bout of the plague would do something good.

i stopped eating and was completely taken aback. i would assume that living in the continent of africa had opened their eyes to the ravages of aids and the heartbreak it caused in countries all around the world, but i guess not. i have never been more offended in my entire life, but i could say nothing. i had to swallow my words and sit quietly. this is the most frustrating aspect of my job.

in addition to their terrible attitudes regarding diseases, the grandfather had once run a safari camp in the mara about 25yrs ago. he contstantly told me where were the best places to go to see the animals and insisted i follow his directions. now ive only been here for 2mos so i respected his knowledge of the mara, but cmon, that was 25yrs ago. a lot has changed since then.

at one point he directed me to a lugger (small watering hole) where he used to see elephants back in the stone age. i dont know what you know about elephants, but they move, a lot, especially over 25yrs. my home country used to be covered in sheets of ice, but you dont hear me asking people to show me the glaciers in the midwest now do you? but once again, i had to grin and bear it.

this being said, they did have a very good safari. we saw lions everyday, a 'leper' on two separate occasions, and masses of wildebeest. but the grandfather remained somewhat unimpressed. after viewing each animal for all of 45 seconds, he would say 'right then, jolly good. shall we move along?' the children squealed in protest, but he would only turn to me a make a very decisive motion with his hands, meaning something to the effect of 'if you dont start this car and start driving, im going to castrate you.'

its hard to impress old men like this that have been in the bush for years. when you can look out of your car and see thousands upon thousands of wildebeests and say 'look, its the newly proclaimed seventh wonder of the natural world' and he doesnt so much as bat an eye, what can you do? nothing, except serve him lots of whiskey and hope he tips well.

so thats it for my safaris. the other group i had in camp was another set of locals and they were very easy going. we saw all sorts of good stuff; leopards hunting, lions everyday including a hunt, hundreds of thousands of wildebeest and the best thing i have seen since ive been in africa; a cheetah and her 6mo old cub. (pictures will be posted as soon as i get to nairobi.)

now for a few quick naibor stories....

in camp we have a family of four from malaysia. they are terrified of everything and ask every possible 'what if' question. i remember i did this a lot when i first came to africa, but never to this extent.

question one: 'what if an elephant is grazing near your tent, he trips and falls on one of the tent ropes and comes crashing down onto where you are sleeping?'

do you really need an answer to this? youre dead, absolutely dead. crushed to death by a four ton beast. but this will never happen. i cant imagine an elephant tripping on a tiny rop that holds up a flap of a tent.

question two: 'if youre watching a very hungry lion right next to your car, and you get of the car and walk towards it, what will it do?'

once again, a very intelligent question. the lion will eat you, on the spot. you will die. next?

question three: 'are there snakes here? what happens if during the night a snake comes into your tent? should i put a candle outside to ward off the snakes?'

good lord people are dumb.

but my favorite was not a question, bur rather a statement. this morning at breakfast, patrick johanna and i were all sitting together having some fruit and tea when the wife of the malaysian family approached us. she asked how far it was to the mara river. its about 40 min, we answered.

'oh, thats too far. i will need to pee along the way. is there a camp along the way that we can stop in at and have a some tea and use the bathroom?'

sometimes i wonder why people even come here if these are their top concerns. of course you cant stop in at another camp. safari camps are notoriously exclusive and its not like the bar at your local hilton where you can walk in and grab a drink on your way around town. we told her she could use the bushes, but shes far too afraid of snakes. so there you have it; she paid thousands of dollars to get to the mara, hundreds of dollars per night to stay here, and she wont go see the river because shes afraid a snake will bite her in the ass if she has to pee. totally logical.

youd be amazed at the questions we get. half the time patrick and i just sit there, dumbfounded and contain our laughter. sometimes the questions are not so bad and we can see how someone who had never been to africa before might pose such queries. but for the most part, its pretty ridiculous.

that is all. sorry if ive bored you and it wasnt quite as entertaining as the last. photos will be up upon my return to nairobi, whenever that might be....