September 19th through the 28th, the trip to Kenya and the Maasai Mara were a whirlwind of excitement, wonder and pure awe. The changing landscape, the variety of animals in their natural environment virtually untouched by us observers, was a clear reminder that they do well without us. The silence of the Mara is what initially stands out until you realize that silence keeps animals alive and allows predators to hunt simultaneously. As I write this, I have flashbacks of key events, such as the moment a herd of elephants strode by close enough to the Toyota Land Cruiser to brush it or topple it over. They moved gracefully across the savanna without a single thud of their heavy powerful feet being heard as they touched the rocky terrain. The only sound was a warning 'huff' from a mother guarding her newborn. It is heard as she looks at us while guarding her baby. The silence was everywhere except at the rapids where the hippos played, rested, and displayed they were in control. When the animals did sound it was for a reason. Victory in a fight or fresh kill or in panic or lamentation from an attack. But after all the 'oooos and ahhhhs' are over there is another set of observations that flood into my memory. They are as significant as the lion's roar, or hyena's cackle.
I am talking about all those who took care of us while we were in the Maasai Mara, our guide, driver, those back at camp preparing food, tending to our tents, securing the area against predators and venomous creatures. Or more simply put - Our Protectors. Most were Maasai from villages both local and remote, others were Swahili from far away as Mombasa on the coast. They all stayed near camp. They all were away from their families. They would be away for weeks, perhaps months at a time. They were there to make us happy, and to every person whom I encountered, they did that excellently and from what I could discern - genuinely. They made us happy and safe and helped us fulfill our dream during this "Trip of a Lifetime". There is much I find special in this type of commitment to family. That these men and women are willing to leave those they love for extended periods - because they love their children so much and want for them a good education, and every possible opportunity for a full and healthy life. They do this without resentment to us. At least none I could discern in any way. They remind me of my grandfather's generation. Who left Italy to come to the United States to find work because none existed at home. Who sent money home to his parents until their passing and simultaneously built a family here. Who, without bitterness, walked miles to catch a bus to go to the mills to work 8-to-10-hour days 5 or 6 days a week every week for over 50 years. Like him, those who catered to our every need here in Kenya reminded me of my grandfather. Their selfless love for their family and their knowledge that their work was providing food clothing shelter and opportunity that they did not have in their youth.
Now my next few paragraphs may generate some ire for anyone who reads this. They may label me as "being WOKE". I honestly no longer know what the word has morphed into so they may or may not be correct. But I will report what I saw and felt and let those chips fall where they may. In every aspect of our camp and our safari, and the safaris I saw of others while traversing the 580 square miles of the Mara, was the distinct carry over of white imperialism and colonialism. Yes, most of those we saw were white westerners from the US or Europe. There were some Asians but mostly white and when I talked with Judy (our guide) she confirmed that indeed was the majority of visitors. So, I get that the accommodations would be geared toward satisfaction of the primary clientele, but there was more than that. Everywhere we went there was not just standard respect but an obvious deference to those who were white. Was it a carryover from years - generations of colonization? I felt it in camp at the Mara, but I also felt and saw it in Nairobi, a city of 2.7 million. It was very obvious in the hotels and restaurants. I even felt it when I walked the streets of Nairobi seeking a Chemist for Linda who was suffering stomach issues and needed medicine. When I walked into the local streets, I was the only white person I could see. And for the first time in my life, I understood how a black person might feel. I saw nor felt malice toward me, no threatening looks or actions, but I did see and feel the stares from everyone I passed. The "What could he be doing here? Why is he here?" looks. None of it with suspicion but instead with a look of curiosity but also of deference. They moved for me in the crowded streets. Their responses to me when I asked directions were always courteous never curt. I wondered, would a black man in a totally white city get that same response? My gut says no.
Linda and I struck up a good relationship with Judy and Kim (guide & driver) during our short stay. We discussed children, lifestyles, a variety of family and parental issues. They were surprised when we helped set up for breakfast and lunch during our daily drives remarking that no one had done that with them before nor had asked them to join us while we ate at table. I say this not for your praise but to highlight how easily they and all those we met just accept that white people are to be treated - well - better. I just had to write this - get it out of my system. Linda and I have discussed this often during our trip and since our return. We wonder if we were reading too much into things...lol... white guilt? But I don't think so - I truly don't.
I am still in email contact with both Judy & Kim and hope we can remain email friends for a very long time. They are lovely people who made our time there special not for just the sights they helped us see but for their friendly and open time with us.
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