I'm leaving for my annual migration to Kenya soon, just like the wildebeest.... well, only there's a few million less of me than there are of them. Also, I'd like to think I run in a few less circles than they do, given that they spend their year basically making a big circle between Kenya and Tanzania in the Serengeti/Mara ecosystem (though that's debatable!). I'm going through my usual 'I'm leaving soon' routine: getting together with friends who want to spend a little time before I leave for a few months; making sure I can take care of all my (as my fab friend Fire calls it) "personal admin" online while I'm gone - banking, paying utilities, etc.; adding things to the duffel bag I keep stocked during the rest of the year with my 'going to Kenya' things. It's always hectic, and no matter how well I plan - and those of you who know me know I plan! - there's always a lot to do at the last minute.
So it's D (departure) minus a week and a day, and actually all is going pretty smoothly. I'm looking forward to the trip, as I always do. The minimal impact existence for a few months - living in a tent, using only solar-generated electricity. Re-adjusting my body clock to a more natural circadean rhythm, where I rise in the morning with the sun, and after just a few hours of kerosene lamps lighting the darkness, I fall asleep with only canvas separating me and the incredible, star-filled African night sky.
I'm looking forward to seeing my Kenyan colleagues at the museum in Nairobi, exchanging greetings and stories about the months we've been apart, our families, our work -- and seeing the handful of other characters I always see in Nairobi. The peanut boy at the Sarit Center roundabout (a few of you will know who I mean!); the museum taxi drivers; my crazy Italian-Tanzanian friend Lupo, who used to run an Italian restaurant with his dad in Arusha but now runs hunting safaris in northern TZ; Brad, the British conservation biology PhD student working on research along with lots of other things, including how to spend as much time in the field with wildlife and wild people as possible. The rows and rows of dusty fossils housed at the Nairobi musuem, where our research project office is located while I am preparing for the field season and for our occasional forays back to town.
Then, there's the adorable-but-tough Maasai boys who walk by our campsite, sent out to herd their families' cows and goats at impossibly young ages; the beautiful-but-even-tougher Maasai women carrying huge loads of firewood on their heads, walking deliberately down the road near our camp and who shake their heads in confusion as I go jogging in the late afternoons (where IS this silly white girl going? and why?). The excavation crew who works with us all summer - the mix of young and old Kikamba men, their friendly faces and hard working bodies. One of my missions this summer is to try to learn more Swahili... I know some, but I am usually shy about speaking it, so I have been thinking about asking the crew to speak to me only in Swahili (until I cry uncle and ask them for English translations). We'll see how THAT goes!
I'll keep you posted (hardy har har) - and once I get to Kenya, I'll be adding pictures to my posts whenever possible.
So it's D (departure) minus a week and a day, and actually all is going pretty smoothly. I'm looking forward to the trip, as I always do. The minimal impact existence for a few months - living in a tent, using only solar-generated electricity. Re-adjusting my body clock to a more natural circadean rhythm, where I rise in the morning with the sun, and after just a few hours of kerosene lamps lighting the darkness, I fall asleep with only canvas separating me and the incredible, star-filled African night sky.
I'm looking forward to seeing my Kenyan colleagues at the museum in Nairobi, exchanging greetings and stories about the months we've been apart, our families, our work -- and seeing the handful of other characters I always see in Nairobi. The peanut boy at the Sarit Center roundabout (a few of you will know who I mean!); the museum taxi drivers; my crazy Italian-Tanzanian friend Lupo, who used to run an Italian restaurant with his dad in Arusha but now runs hunting safaris in northern TZ; Brad, the British conservation biology PhD student working on research along with lots of other things, including how to spend as much time in the field with wildlife and wild people as possible. The rows and rows of dusty fossils housed at the Nairobi musuem, where our research project office is located while I am preparing for the field season and for our occasional forays back to town.
Then, there's the adorable-but-tough Maasai boys who walk by our campsite, sent out to herd their families' cows and goats at impossibly young ages; the beautiful-but-even-tougher Maasai women carrying huge loads of firewood on their heads, walking deliberately down the road near our camp and who shake their heads in confusion as I go jogging in the late afternoons (where IS this silly white girl going? and why?). The excavation crew who works with us all summer - the mix of young and old Kikamba men, their friendly faces and hard working bodies. One of my missions this summer is to try to learn more Swahili... I know some, but I am usually shy about speaking it, so I have been thinking about asking the crew to speak to me only in Swahili (until I cry uncle and ask them for English translations). We'll see how THAT goes!
I'll keep you posted (hardy har har) - and once I get to Kenya, I'll be adding pictures to my posts whenever possible.
Comments
Hillary