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....

round 2

if my second trip to zanzibar was a boxing match, i would have been felled by TKO somewhere in the early fourth round. my 'fight' ended with me in a minibus lying on the floor with my backpack as a pillow as i sped towards the airport in stone town...a full two hours after my scheduled departure. i was utterly defeated and felt like i was doing to die. but to see how i got here, lets just start at the beginning.

i was originally supposed to fly back to the mara on saturday, but after receiving my work schedule in print, i decided that would be a terrible idea; starting today, i will not have any time off until the end of september. after discussing this with anthony and getting the ok to get out of town, i contacted billy.

billy, famous for going for the weak link in the group and keeping you out til sunrise, is my friend from my last zanzibar adventure. he wrote back to my email almost immediately and informed me that he was going to zanzibar with two friends from the states. within an hour i was packed and had a plane ticket.

night one was in dar es salaam, or just dar. this is a pit. i arrived in the late evening and was met at the airport by billy and ashish (real name, friend from states). we opted not to take a taxi and instead hop in a much feared dalla-dalla for the ride into town. as we crammed in they assured us there was room, but i was a nonbeliever. i, along with ashish, was forced to stand and as a dalla-dalla barely has enough head room for me when i sit, i was pretty much bent over at the waist with my face nestled somehwere near a large african's ass. fantastic start to the trip, what would be great now is if he could just let a little fart slip out.

but enough of that. after dinner on the beach, we headed to garden bistro for an 'easy' night. we didnt want to ruin ourselves for our zanzibar departure the following day. after a hookah and a few beers, i soon realized that this would not be the night i had in mind. hookers were hitting on billy as he danced and harassing ashish and i as we watched, laughing at billy as he fended off the repeated attacks.

they are quite grabby, the hookers, and dont really like to hear you say no. i, however, was adamant in my refusals; i would rather play russian roulette with six in the chamber than so much as shake hands with a prostitute (no offense to the hookers of the world, im sure some of you are very nice ladies). billy on the other hand was turning into a sort giggolo. while the ladies of the night constantly ask you for drinks, billy decided to turn the tables on the one harassing him and demand a drink from her. astonished, she actually complied and billy gave us a beaming smile and a thumbs up, exclaiming that 'hey, a hooker just bought me a beer!'

one small victory for us. she eventually offered him money to go home with her, but he declined.

as for the rest of the night, it wasnt all hookers. i met some american marines who guarded the embassy and they invited me back for cards at their secret hidden away bar in ther basement of their large house. maybe next time. some local girls, very nice, not hookers, chatted us up for awhile and then it was time to call it a night....or day, it was afterall 6am and as we wandered home, the muslim calls to prayer rang out from the tall towers of the city's many mosques. i felt so far from home, and in such violation of everything good and holy in this world.

day two. we found our way to the airport around 2pm for our 330pm flight and met up with another friend along for the voyage, gerard. after the introductions billy split for his flight which left out of a different terminal, at which point me, ashish and gerard made our way to the departure lounge for some much needed hydration.

as we sat around eating and drinking, i noticed a very official looking man next to us with his face buried in a bloody mary, and another empty one by his side. in fact this man looked so official that he just so happened to be a pilot. i checked to be sure that he wasnt a precison air (our airline) pilot and, thankfully he was not. he flew for tanzanair. not my problem, i didnt come to africa to blow whistles and tell people that drinking and flying planes full of tourists was a bad idea. he soon picked himself up off the bar, only after yet another cocktail, threw on the official issue pilot shades, and stumbled towards some official looking entrance to go do some sort of official things while officially wasted.

we landed in zanzibar right about the same time that billy's flight came in and we met him on the tarmac. much to my astonishment and sheer terror, billy walked right off a small tanzanair flight captained by a man who i recognized. if you havent put this together yet, his pilot was the official looking alcoholic whom i shared a bar with just an hour before. only in africa.

quite a relaxed first night on the island. we decided to take it easy and save up for nungwi.

this was a good decision. that first night, billy led us to yet another sunrise as we passed the night playing cards with two aussies and three girls from norway. the aussies were outrageous; two guys in their mid twenties, cashed up and ready to go at the drop of a hat. they made john belushi look like a weak drinker. the norweigan girls were everything you would want girls from norway to be, and a bit more; blonde, accented, attractive, interested in young american safari workers, etc.

they taught us all sorts of card games and entertained us and the aussies until just before sunset when everyone decided to call it a day.

the following afternoon at the beach was my last and our aussie friends had gotten wind of this. starting from about 4pm onwards, after we, along with the norweigans, made plans to meet for dinner, paul the aussie began telling everyone we met about my 'going away party'. this struck me as funny on many levels. for one, i barely knew paul and here he was getting ready for a throwdown to honor my departure. additionally, he was telling completely random people about this party, yet they seemed very intrigued. it doesnt take much to get a bunch of people on holiday together to drink.

after a quick dinner, we moved out party back over to our favorite beach bar, cholo's. by now, paul was promoting this new drinking event to nearly everyone. he would go around saying, 'well this bloke cam and oi are ear fer another fo' dayz, but this guy, grahhnt, its ez last noit....so lets ave a bia!' this never stopped, and it apparently never got old. he recruited all sorts of people for our little fiesta by the fire on the beach.

i soon started to realize i was in trouble. i had run out of cash some time ago, but upon realizing this paul simply took it upon himself to buy every single one of my drinks, as well as those for our new friends. i tried to protest, but the harder i fought, the more red bull and vodkas he thrust at me.

around 3am i tried to escape with the norweigans (they roomed next door), only to be caught by paul and cam who were returning from their room. by their new upbeat attitude and mile wide smiles, i had guessed they had found some sort of over the counter stimulant to help them press on through the night. cam pulled me aside and informed me that they had pseudophedrine tablets, and offered me some.

now i dont much about the whole speed business, but i do know that what they had was the active ingredient in meth, and being from where i am in texas, meth is big business. i respectfully declined, but thanked them for their generous offer. they then drug me back to the bar and said that if i wouldnt take the pills, then i needed another red bull.

somewhere around 530am i managed to escape. i thought id take a quick nap before catching my 6am cab. this of course did not happen. from what the neighbors told me, the cabbie tried persistently to get into my room and wake me, as did my roomate ashish. they say that i woke up at one point, began to pack, and the slipped back off to sleep. oh well.

this is when my miserable ride back to stone town began. i couldnt get in touch with any of the airlines to change tickets so i had to go down in person to the offices, about 1.5hrs away. the rest is history. i made it back, barely, and the changing of flights actually saved me $30.

on the way out of dar i met yet another foreign girl in the airport. she was russian, returning from travelling with her dad and friends around tanzania. now between her and the norweigan girls, ive started to realize something; american girls are for suckers, or australians.

i dont know what it is, but ive found foreign girls, and foreign people for that matter, much more fascinating lately. it may have something to do with the fact that they find what i do very interesting as well, which just makes for good conversation and probably a false sense of confidence. i think this novelty will probably wear off after i return to the states and realize that american girls are once again the best. but as for now, i think i need to go to russia...or scandinavia. both?

lion eating/drinking a buffalo

aggressive baby elephant. this was another picture taken before the charge, even the kids didnt like me being there

a typical evening out when i have no clients. if were not too busy, patrick, johanna and i head out for a quick sundowner and see what we can find...

this time it was a leopard. not a bad day

a day in the life...

after spending three weeks down in the mara doing everything from managing camps to guiding, ive compiled some pretty good stories and had some very interesting clients. but rather than drone on and on about the entire three weeks, ive taken the best stories from my time down there and condensed them into one day, set with some of the more obnoxious clients that i have had on safari. while the events are true, they did not all happen in the same day, but thats how im going to write it, so live with it. without further ado, i give you a day in the life of me, the safari guide, manager and general camp bitch

somewhere between 4am and 6am: yes, i know, its early and most of you that know me well enough know that i dont usually operate at this time of day, but things are different here and ive grown accustomed to it. so depending upon the plans for the day, this is when im getting up.

after an especially rough night around the campfire with clients and multiple bottles of wine, i find myself laying awake in my tent around 5:45. rather than wait for my usual wake up call at 6am, i decide to get out of bed and head to the kitchen tent for some coffee.

what usually happens is that an overly cheery masai man brings coffee to me in the morning and wakes me up with a nice 'jambo bwana', which he says at least 6 times before i can manage an answer, which is usually some sort of indecipherable grunt and a 'thanks.' while i always thank him, i secretly hate this guy for waking me up after what usually seems like only minutes of sleep.

as i walk down to the kitchen, slumped over, barely able to carry myself and only with coffee on my mind to kill the elephant sized headache that i know is coming, i notice that the masai are waving frantically at me and jumping around as if there was some sort of imminent danger looming ahead. but they werent making a sound, just flailing about...frolicking, almost, if you will.
too tired to do anything about it, i walk on towards them, very confused. when i finally get to them i realize what all the fuss is about. on the path parallel to the one i was walking on, about 10yds to my right, was a lioness crouched under a bush looking at me as if i was her next meal. i dont know why, but for some reason she decided, thankfully, not to snack on me. upon seeing her, i simaltaneously preform all my bodily functions from my nether regions and freeze with fear as she is now about 15yds away from us.

i grab a spear leaning against the tree that one of the guards had left from the previous night and debate what the hell i am going to do. in hindsight, i have no idea why i grabbed a spear. the only thing i would have done if the lion had charged would have been to turn, run, stumble and impale myself on my useless weapon and turn into a sort of human kebab for the lion to munch on as a nice apertif before before moving onto something more delicious, such as a baby buffalo, or perhaps the rest of the crew.

after regaining my senses we all back slowly into the kitchen tent and pray no other clients will walk out and become lion breakfast (although i later decide that i want to feed a client to a lion). she eventually left and walked out of camp. looking back on it, its a good thing i didnt see her when she was looking to eat me because, contrary to everything ive been taught about such situations, i would have panicked and probably tried to run. that would have made me look like a giant toy for her to chase, much like a house cat going after a mouse on a string. the only reason i can think that she didnt eat me was because i continued walking and at one point, i was walking right at her, which only served to confuse the hungry lioness. but alas, i am still alive and now i have a good story.

i head back to my tent to get ready for the morning and, more importantly, to grab a clean pair of boxers....

6:15am: the clients arrive at the mess tent for another cup of tea or coffee and we discuss the days plans. the ones on this particular day a group of 6 adults and 7 children, most of which work for the british high commission in nairobi. and yes, the fit the colonial stereotype perfectly.

one of the men shows up for the morning drive wearing the de rigeur safari gear of a 1950's big game hunter; hard brimmed sombrero-type hat, khaki shirt with enough pockets for a japanese toursits' entire camera kit and then some, khaki vest with everything short of bullets crammed into all the pockets, too-short shorts which show off a healthy set of milk-white thighs that havent seen the sun since the dissolution of the british empire and a pair of safari boots with knee high socks which still come a good meter short of the hem on his pair of ball-hugging shorts. his camera, which resmebles the Hubble telescope, looks as if it is more equipped to take close ups of the planet mars than be lugged around on a safari.

i nearly spit coffee out of my nose in a containted fit of laughter.

6:35am: the cars are loaded up with the clients and one of the pint-sized terrors, in a very thick british accent, informs me that last time she was here she saw three lions and then demanded that we see lions today.

'brilliant!' exclaims one of the men in the group, 'some lions would be jolly good, lets find them!'

'sure', i think, 'let me just phone up simba and the gang and well meet up on the ridge. and could they please bring something large to kill, like a buffalo, for the enjoyment of my guests.'

i decide then and there that the first lion i see will be fed one of the children as a quick morning snack since they didnt get their paws on me.

7:27am: 'an elephant, i see an elephant!' one of the kids yells from the back. i immediately realize its an ostrich, but youd be amazed at how often someone mistakes these 400lb birds for a 4 ton land mammal.

they insist that we go see the 'elephant' eventhough i have told them it is in fact a large bird. they dont believe me, so i drive on.

7:30am: holy shit, its an ostrich. is it too early for a beer?

8:45am: ive spotted a cheetah and after making quick tracks over to the animal, i field questions like 'when are we going to see the lions?' they are never happy, its never enough with these people.

not only is a cheetah an amazing sight, she seems to have been knocked up. so in a few weeks well have some little baby cheetah running around near camp so i can impress future clients with the little furballs.

although they are desperate for a lion, the kids seem to enjoy the cheetah, as any sane person should. they, despite my many attempts to shut them up, are bouncing around the car screaming with delight. they all tussle for a good spot on the roof until two of them break out into an explosive fight. it seems that nothing short of a UN resolution will stop this row and i simply resign myself to a day of this business.

i debate crushing up some of my adderall and throwing it in their lunchtime tea. whats the penalty for drugging children in kenya? seeing as how some parents feed their toddlers beer around lunch time so they can knock off to bed i think it cant be that bad, can it?

1,692 pictures later, were off again on a frantic search for the lions.

9:03am: i come across another safari truck headed down the road i am on. in typical fashion, i move to the side and let them pass on the narrow dirt excuse for a road. the car slows and the guide sees me behind the wheel. with a low slung astros hat, sunglasses and an addidas warm up jacket on (thanks anders), i do not look like the typical fourty-something white guides here in the mara.

the guide stares at me with a look thats says, 'dear lord, this tourist kid has managed to steal a safari truck and in the process has kidnapped a carload of clients.' we pass and he looks utterly confused by my presence.

9:15am: with anthony some miles ahead of me, im making tracks down to the kenya-tanzania border to see if we can pick up some of the wildebeest making their way in from the serengetti. im pretty confident that i know my way around now, and how hard can it be to find 1.5million noisy animals...

9:17am: its harder than you think. im lost. the clients are getting a bit suspicious and confidence in me is slipping with every turn and double-back i make.

'are you lost, grahhnt?' (thats how they say my name, and they insist that my own pronunciation is wrong. who am i to argue with the 'queen's english?')

'of course not', i lie. 'look over there, thats a verreaux's eagle owl.' again, a lie. its some random bird on top of a tree that i cant quite see very well but throwing out such an obscure name when they think im lost serves to restore confidence. once again, im pure gold.

this cycle of confidence continues throughout the day as i find myself lost every now and again. sometimes they have about as much faith in me as europe has in GW Bush. but i always manage to restore confidence by throwing out some nuggets of information and obscure facts about a nearby animal.

10:17am: i have regained my bearings and in the meantime ive managed to find some pretty good stuff, such as a herd of elephants. again, the children clambor for the best seat on the roof as we watch the elephants.

i field countless questions, most of which are about as intelligent as the sound of a fart. example: 'what do elephants eat?' not only is this widely known, we are at the moment watching them eat an acacia tree and grass. 'what are their tusks made of?' have you never heard of poaching for the precious substance that has brought death upon masses of elephants called ivory?

alas, i am unable to say my true thoughts and i answer in a calm, knowledgable and diplomatic fashion.

10:20am: the fight for roof real estate continues despite the fact that i have warned both the children and the parents as to the dangers of making such a racket near elephants, which although they appear peaceful, can be devastatingly aggressive creatures. they have been known to flip trucks and charge.

10:21am: the elephants have had enough. this picture was taken about 2 seconds before she charged. no pictures of the charge though, i thought it would be best to save my own life rather than document my own death.

10:57am: after fleeing for my life, which i am beginning to wish would come to an end before noon, i have found us the much sought after lion. however, it is a lone female and not the pride, complete with cubs, that they are after. nevermind the fact that this lion is scratching its back on my grill guard, the clients remain relatively unimpressed, except for a few which i have come to like

(note: the lion is so close that i have had to zoom out all the way and you can even see a bit of me in the rear view mirror)

the children are terrified now and no longer fighting for the roof. 'will she eat us? is it safe to be so close? should i roll up the window?' are all questions being fired at me right now but im much to busy watching this amazing sight to be bothered with such obnoxious inquiries

after some good lion action, we press on towards the border in search of the masses of wildebeest.

11:32am: i come across yet another safari truck but this time i know the guide. he is a masao friend of mine who works at naibor also. his english is limited so we exchange a few words in swahili as he tells me where the wildebeest herds can be found.

it is now the clients in his car that are looking at me with great confusion. their looks seem to say exactly what the lasts guides did but this time theres an added expression, which i gather to mean 'not only has the stolen a car and kidnapped clients, this young kid seems to know they language as well. perhaps its a modern day jungle book story in which his parents abandoned him in the bush and he was subsequently raised by a family of baboons. thats the only reason i can think he would be out here tutting away in swahili...'

12:00pm: after much searching, anthony and i have managed to locate the wildebeest, and not only this, they are crossing the sand river.

'why are they crossing the river?' asks one client.

i thought, given that they came to see the migration, as well as lions which they were still demanding me to find, that the answer to this question would be quite logical; its in thier way. but you can never give them too much credit. they are about as helpless as a lost puppy nipping away at the heels of some new found friend which they hope will take it home.

with the sight of the migration taken care of, we finally head back to camp for lunch.

12:34pm: once again anthony has charged ahead. im stopping at every tree and stump that the clients claim is a lion's head so my journey is taking a bit longer.

12:37pm: damnit, lost. again. but bullshit saves the day and the clients are doing just fine, and to top it all off, ive found a baby elephant down the road on which i took a wrong turn.

1:00pm: i think i see another elephant. upon closer inspection, it turns out to be an ostrick. karma is a bitch.

1:35pm: we arrive back in camp after i regain my sense of direction and much to my credit, i make no more wrong turns after the initial diorientation. (as a side note: getting lost was a phenomenon of my early days in guiding. i now pretty much know my way around our area of the park. but this particular group was the first i guided completely on my own with no masai in the car to back me up.)

after a quick lunch the clients head off for a siesta. not being too tired, despite a killer headache, a 545am wakeup and and 7 hours in a car listening to screaming children and demanding adults, i grab a chair and sit on the river with an ice cold fanta.

i begin to play a game. a hippo herd lives right on our bend of the river and at this particular time, floating down from upstream, are giant piles of hippo poo. these are roughly the size of new jersey, but only half as smelly. they are heading right for the herd of hippo in the river and my game consists of watching which one wil surface right under the masses of poop and receive a facefull of his brethrens waste.

soon a hippo pops his head out of the water. he slowly opens his eyes a giant pile heads right at him. he soon realizes the situation and, terrified, he lets out a loud bellow and tries to surface before the collision. but he does not. merde in the face. hippos 0 - me 1.

this is what happens when you spend three weeks without tv; you play games with shit.

2:22pm: as i walk back to my tent, i run into anthony who is off for a siesta.

'grahhnt, doesnt it bother you that your shorts are always around your ass?' he asks in his trademark kenyan accent.

'yes, as a matter of fact it does' i reply. but theres not much i can do about it. i debate explaining to him that its a fashion trend begun in urban areas by confused white males trying to immitate the hip-hop culture but seeing as how this does not apply to me, i pass on the explanation.

put simply, my backside is flat as a board, and shorts that used to fit, no longer stay up so well. despite my best efforts, im losing weight here. i cant understand how though; on safari youre always eating but never hungry. i pull on my double-d ring sailing belt and make a mental note to buy some new clothes.

4:36pm: after a very long morning drive, we get a late start on the afternoon. lions are the order of the day. during the night, i heard them roaring not too far away from camp so we decide to stick around the area and see if we cant find them.

5:15pm: less than a mile or two from camp i have found the lions. ive spotted them from about 300yds away and, brimming with confidence coming from a car full of satisfied clients, i charge across the grass towards the lions.

5:16pm: only its not grass. the lions have actually ensconced themeselves across a little bog on the side of a rocky hill. and that little bog now contains me and a car full of clients. im stuck.

i debate radioing to anthony to come pull me out but being that he is a few miles away, i decide to tackle the problem on my own. i radio to him that ive found lions and he is on the way but id rather him not see me stuck.

5:17pm: waiting for anthony is now totally out of the question. the lions are up and on the move towards the car. if they stop by the car, it might be hours before i can winch myself out from the nearest tree and if they happen to simply pass by, ill have a car full of very ornery brits who are wondering why i got stuck and ruined their chance at seeing a large pride.

i hop out of the car before they get too close and start unravelling the winch. the lions look at me with confusion and freeze. i think they are taking pity on me. i can almost hear them thinking, 'hey, isnt that the guy that our lady friend could have eaten this morning.'

i ask the clients if they could please keep an eye on them as i wrap the large wire around a nearby tree and try to unstick us before the lions set up shop near the car.

around the time that i have my back turned, a nearby male lets out a deafening, gut rumbling roar. i cant see him but i know that he is close, very close. the clients are amazed by my bravery...but thats just because they cant see my hands shaking and the pee running down my leg.

i turn around quickly and notice that i have not just found a few lions, but an entire pride numbering eighteen. fourteen more have emerged from a bush about 100yds away following the roar and are now on the way to meet up with the one making all the racket. so now i have an unseen male some distance away, 14 females walking towards my car (meaning that i am between them and the male) and another 3 lions coming at me from a different direction. i could not have picked a worse place to get stuck.

luckily they dont seem to keen on eating me and simply amble towards my distressed vehicle without much interest. but this doesnt do much to allay any fears that i have for my life.

5:20pm: were out. i quickly hop out and gather up with winch cable as the lions continue to close the distance. we drive over to the male, which we can now see, as the rest of the priding is heading in the same direction.

we watch the lions until sunset as the pride engages in all sorts of activity. they genearlly do whatever it is that lions do, such as....

yawning...

...and hanging out on top of termite mounds

6:47pm: the sun soon set on another great day in the mara and we headed for camp.

6:54pm: now its dark, im lost, so is anthony.

7:30pm: somehow weve managed to find our way back to camp in the night, which is about as easy as doing a rubik's cube with the lights off. i now find myself in the shower.

as i wash up, some water splashes onto the kerosene lamp perched just outside my outdoor shower tent (our guides tents, unlike the rest of the camp, do not have in-suite bathrooms. but when im at naibor its quite nice; in-suite bathrooms with flushing toilets, what a novelty.)

as soon as the water touches the super-heated glass, the glass around the lamp explodes, plunging me into total darkness and sending little bits of shards into my shower tent which i immediately step on. now with severly cut and bleeding feet and in total darkness im miserable.

i make my way back to my tent and withouth the benefit of a light to guide me, i manage to clothesline myself on one of the wires holding up the large legs of my tent. now i am cold, wet, wrapped only in a towel and bleeding all over myself as i lay in the grass around my tent. not only that, its grass and dirt, so now im filthy once again. i curse the cruel god that put me here.

i wish that lion would have killed me this morning.

8:00pm: dinner. the thought of more wine makes me want to stab myself.

9:30pm: finally, a rest. i head to my tent to get some sleep and hope for the premature depature of my clients as a result of some lion-related fatality.

3:37am: i wake up in my bed to the shrill alarm call of a dik-dik (yes, its a real animal). it sounds something like a dying bird and still being too tired to think, i dont give it much thought. but less than a minute later, i hear the unmistakable chatter of spur fowl. funny, i think. i dont usually start wishing for my shotgun or an avian genocide until around 530am when the birds really start to wake up.

it takes me a second, but i soon process the information; there is only one thing that can make these animals scared at this time of night. we have a leopard in camp, and judging by the sounds, its pretty close.

i quietly unzip the front of my tent to see if i can get a look at whats going on and take a seat in my chair. i sit still for about 3 or 4min until i see her.

in the glow of a haning kerosene lantern, about 20yds from my tent, i see the leopard plodding along through camp. the animals keep cackling away but shes not interested. shes heading for a drink in the nearby mara river and judging by how full she looks, food is the last thing on her mind.

i watch her for about a minute or so before she disappears, and it is by far the coolest moment from all my time here. she is walking through the trees light only by lanterns, her spotted yellow and black coat glistening a deep amber under the gas lights.

.....thats it, thats my day. i know it sounds like i complain a lot and the clients suck, but i love what im doing and i could not be happier here. as per the clients, most of them are lots of fun and eager to get out and see everything, but its no fun to write about those kinds of people.