saba

So there are these creatures called mole crickets – this is a two-part story. If you ever have the chance to be up close and personal with a mole cricket, the sound it makes resembles, not resembles, it truly is the sound your abode uses during a fire to get you up on your feet. So April 1st, being April Fools Day, Paul and I made up this story about a mole cricket outside our tent, waking us up in the night, and when we went outside to investigate we found a half buried plastic container next to it. Inside the container was 10,000 shillings, about 125 dollars. Our story was bought and a laugh was had, but the weird thing about it was that three days later there was a mole cricket outside our tent – the power of suggestion. We’ve since dug up all the earth around it to no avail.

The drought has been the demise of many animals and we see carcasses partially eaten all over. It’s become a fixture of the environment to see a dead zebra or wildebeest, but we recently were given word about a dead lion. A male, he died a few days prior to our getting there. Kenya Wildlife Services thinks he is the same male that was previously injured by two others - at that time they darted him and treated his wounds. He was already missing a couple teeth and claws and KWS confiscated the rest. His eyes were also missing and he was in the process of being fed on by fly larva. I’ve grown numb to the sight of deceased animals being consumed by maggots, what will always be shocking to me though is that the hyenas still think this is good meat. Even at this stage in his decay, the lion’s size was quite impressive. Paul took his measurements as if we were getting ready to put a collar on him and some visitors we had with us at the time, who were not as accustom to the maggots, unloaded about 50 hand wipes on Paul, the Shompole scouts, and the KWS ranger when they were done. The rainy season has finally started though. We went out looking for Mwanzo, the collared lion, last night and our visit was cut short by no less than one million bugs. Windows down and roof hatch open, I looked over at Paul and his knees were covered with a blanket of insects. We thought about shutting the roof hatch at that point, but we would have dumped a bucket’s worth of beetles on top of our heads. With that, I took off my Spot lighter’s hat and offered to drive. My bush tolerance has gone up, I’m happy to say. Though I still have an aversion to the wasp.

Market day is always a very happy day for the Maasai; if you want to leave too early people would rather walk home later than take the free ride. I was driving the car back on one of those days we left when it was acceptable to leave and we gave a ride to a group of women. About ten people piled into the bed of the truck and when we dropped them off they took turns shaking my hand. I understood the thank yous and answered appropriately to that, but there was some more chatter and one woman danced up to me and patted me on the back. Michael was in the back as well and he turned to me and asked if I knew what they were excited about. I said no, and he told me that they were excited that a woman was driving the car. There are proud women everywhere. I’ve been helping the press club type up some articles that they wrote in hopes of starting a school magazine. Most of the stories were poems and opinion pieces and there were quite a few from girls speaking out for their rights. One of them even warned the boys to watch out because women would soon be taking over the world. Men, consider yourselves forewarned. Feminism - it’s even in the bush.