At long last I have uploaded some pictures... you can experience East Africa according to Kelsey in full colour by going to http://picasaweb.google.com/kelseyshort
Enjoy!
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Friday, April 18, 2008
Book List
In case you are looking for a good book to read, I thought I would post my reading list for the last few months. Enjoy...
- Sweetness in the Belly by Camilla Gibb ~ A brilliant story of a foreigner growing up in Ethiopia. Highly recommended.
- Haunted by Chuck Palaniuk ~ From the author of Fight Club, really good in a disturbing sort of way... don't say I didn't warn you.
- The Famished Road by Ben Okri ~ Supposedly the number one read for "understanding the issues on the African continent" so says Lonely Planet. It was painful to get through for me, but still worth reading in the end.
- The Kite Runner by Kahled Hosseini ~ Brilliant! Read it before you see the movie I think.
- Eleven Minutes by Paulo Coehlo ~ If you are not already a fan of Mr. Coehlo don't start here... go buy The Alchemist.
- Alek by Alek Wek ~ The autobiography of a Sudanese refugee turned international supermodel. Not terribly well written but an interesting story.
- Unbowed by Wangari Maathai ~ I haven't actually read it yet but she is the first African woman to win a Nobel Peace prize... I'm looking forward to it.
- 28 Stories of HIV/AIDS in Africa by Stephani Nolan ~ Just a brilliant book.
- The Joys of Motherhood but I can't remember the author right now ~ One of my favorite books ever.
- Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe ~ Again just brilliant!
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
The Stars of the Southern Hemisphere
In the arid Savannah landscape of central Botswana, there is a bush camp run by a South African many named Ben. Ben is an animated story teller, an immaculate host and, as it turns out, a bit of a drinker. This is the story of how I came to be riding in the back of his pickup truck, lost in the middle of Nowhere Botswana and holding an elephant tusk at three in the morning.
The Elephant Sands campsite is little more than a sandy lot beside a watering hole in the middle of endless scrub brush. Elephants frequent the watering hole to drink and play. I easily whiled away an afternoon just watching the elephants cooling themselves in the water; I'm really quite enamoured by the elephants, I'm not sure I want to return to a country where there is no possibility of seeing them on a daily basis. As I sat and watched the elephants, Ben was busy telling bush stories to an enraptured group of my travel companions. It wasn't long before he was offering to take us into the bush for the night for our own "bush experience". He guaranteed he would show us something that none of us had ever seen before. How could I possibly say no to an offer like that?
Eight of us decided to go. As the heat of the afternoon finally began to wain, we packed our things into the land cruiser and set off. The sensations of that afternoon were really quite tantalizing; the feeling of the sun scorching my face and the Acacia thorns whipping my arms as we careen off-road through the bush; the choking smell of diesel overtaking the musty smell of elephant manure; the sound of the truck gears grinding; the feeling of dirt sticking to my sweaty skin. We drank cider as we drove, and watched for giraffes, elephants and lions off in the bushes. I felt like I was in a Hemingway story; I loved every minute of it.
We finally arrived at another watering hole where Ben announced we would camp for the night. The watering hole was not large but it was picturesque, being crowned on the West side by a towering skeleton of an Acacia tree. The sun was setting and while I fiddled with my camera for that perfect shot, Ben and Jamu (the local guide) lit a bonfire and cooked dinner. We ate steak and pap (like ugali) and stew. We drank red wine out of plastic cups and talked about the heard of elephants we had seen nearby (with a brand new baby, maybe a week old Ben thought, and an elegant and frightening matriarch). Everything was perfect.
The stars came out and I was shown the Southern Cross. Being from the Northern hemisphere I feel somewhat lost when I look up at the stars here and don't recognize anything - but the Southern Cross finds South like the Big Dipper finds North and I felt reassured. As we finished off the wine Ben announced that we should all pile into the truck again and he would take us to find his guaranteed novel experience.
We drove for almost an hour, it was clear we were lost. But just as we were all starting to give up hope that would would actually find this mystery thing, the engine stopped and Ben hopped out, instructing us to follow. The smell of the diesel was suddenly taken over by something stronger - what was that? And then we saw it... the massive skull of an elephant peering at us from the bushes. And this is what Ben had guaranteed we would have never seen before - a dead elephant. He was right, it was definitely a first for me.
The elephant, it turns out, was an old bull who had fallen into a sink hole and died, probably about three months ago. Ben needed to go out and recover the tusks and give them to the Botswana wildlife service so they can be registered in the ivory registry. In about six months they will be auctioned off to an international market - anyone can buy them, but this way they get a certificate saying the ivory wasn't poached but collected after a natural death. So Jamu went about tying a rope around the tusk and lifting up the flap of decaying flesh covering the tusk (which produced a smell more retched than anything I have ever smelled in my life). Then we pulled. It took a great amount of force but eventually it slid off, quite easily actually.
The tusk was beautiful and smooth and amazingly heavy - about 40 kilos Ben said. I just liked holding it, even though the end still smelled like a dead elephant. We were trying to remove the second one, which was proving much more difficult, when we heard rustling in the buses and a low sort of rumbling. It was about five meters away, Ben wasn't sure if it was elephants or hyenas or lions but we decided we didn't really want to meet any of those, so we scrambled back into the truck and set on our way. Ben assured us he knew the way home.
He didn't. We left the elephant about eleven at night... we found camp (not the camp we had set up but the actual camp) at ten past four in the morning. It was a long night needless to say. It was all the longer as we realized Ben had a bottle of whisky in the front with him - as he got more and more lost he also got more and more drunk. Every so often Ben and Jamu would jump out of the truck and race of into the bushes and point at the stars and speak angerly in Setswan. And although we never saw them, we heard lions roaring in the bushes; whether it was true or our imaginations, they always seemed to be getting closer.
I can't say being lost in the bushes for hours in the middle of the night is an experience for everyone. Certainly most of the people with me were not really suited for it... but I loved it. It was cold and frustrating and I was tired and thirsty, but it really was one of the most real experiences I've had. It was an adventure, and there were lions... how much more Chronicles of Narnia could I get.
The Elephant Sands campsite is little more than a sandy lot beside a watering hole in the middle of endless scrub brush. Elephants frequent the watering hole to drink and play. I easily whiled away an afternoon just watching the elephants cooling themselves in the water; I'm really quite enamoured by the elephants, I'm not sure I want to return to a country where there is no possibility of seeing them on a daily basis. As I sat and watched the elephants, Ben was busy telling bush stories to an enraptured group of my travel companions. It wasn't long before he was offering to take us into the bush for the night for our own "bush experience". He guaranteed he would show us something that none of us had ever seen before. How could I possibly say no to an offer like that?
Eight of us decided to go. As the heat of the afternoon finally began to wain, we packed our things into the land cruiser and set off. The sensations of that afternoon were really quite tantalizing; the feeling of the sun scorching my face and the Acacia thorns whipping my arms as we careen off-road through the bush; the choking smell of diesel overtaking the musty smell of elephant manure; the sound of the truck gears grinding; the feeling of dirt sticking to my sweaty skin. We drank cider as we drove, and watched for giraffes, elephants and lions off in the bushes. I felt like I was in a Hemingway story; I loved every minute of it.
We finally arrived at another watering hole where Ben announced we would camp for the night. The watering hole was not large but it was picturesque, being crowned on the West side by a towering skeleton of an Acacia tree. The sun was setting and while I fiddled with my camera for that perfect shot, Ben and Jamu (the local guide) lit a bonfire and cooked dinner. We ate steak and pap (like ugali) and stew. We drank red wine out of plastic cups and talked about the heard of elephants we had seen nearby (with a brand new baby, maybe a week old Ben thought, and an elegant and frightening matriarch). Everything was perfect.
The stars came out and I was shown the Southern Cross. Being from the Northern hemisphere I feel somewhat lost when I look up at the stars here and don't recognize anything - but the Southern Cross finds South like the Big Dipper finds North and I felt reassured. As we finished off the wine Ben announced that we should all pile into the truck again and he would take us to find his guaranteed novel experience.
We drove for almost an hour, it was clear we were lost. But just as we were all starting to give up hope that would would actually find this mystery thing, the engine stopped and Ben hopped out, instructing us to follow. The smell of the diesel was suddenly taken over by something stronger - what was that? And then we saw it... the massive skull of an elephant peering at us from the bushes. And this is what Ben had guaranteed we would have never seen before - a dead elephant. He was right, it was definitely a first for me.
The elephant, it turns out, was an old bull who had fallen into a sink hole and died, probably about three months ago. Ben needed to go out and recover the tusks and give them to the Botswana wildlife service so they can be registered in the ivory registry. In about six months they will be auctioned off to an international market - anyone can buy them, but this way they get a certificate saying the ivory wasn't poached but collected after a natural death. So Jamu went about tying a rope around the tusk and lifting up the flap of decaying flesh covering the tusk (which produced a smell more retched than anything I have ever smelled in my life). Then we pulled. It took a great amount of force but eventually it slid off, quite easily actually.
The tusk was beautiful and smooth and amazingly heavy - about 40 kilos Ben said. I just liked holding it, even though the end still smelled like a dead elephant. We were trying to remove the second one, which was proving much more difficult, when we heard rustling in the buses and a low sort of rumbling. It was about five meters away, Ben wasn't sure if it was elephants or hyenas or lions but we decided we didn't really want to meet any of those, so we scrambled back into the truck and set on our way. Ben assured us he knew the way home.
He didn't. We left the elephant about eleven at night... we found camp (not the camp we had set up but the actual camp) at ten past four in the morning. It was a long night needless to say. It was all the longer as we realized Ben had a bottle of whisky in the front with him - as he got more and more lost he also got more and more drunk. Every so often Ben and Jamu would jump out of the truck and race of into the bushes and point at the stars and speak angerly in Setswan. And although we never saw them, we heard lions roaring in the bushes; whether it was true or our imaginations, they always seemed to be getting closer.
I can't say being lost in the bushes for hours in the middle of the night is an experience for everyone. Certainly most of the people with me were not really suited for it... but I loved it. It was cold and frustrating and I was tired and thirsty, but it really was one of the most real experiences I've had. It was an adventure, and there were lions... how much more Chronicles of Narnia could I get.
Sunday, April 6, 2008
The Warm Heart of Africa
"The warm heart of Africa". That's what all the guide books call Malawi, except the Lonely Planet which calls it "Africa for beginners". I'm not entirely sure what either of those characterizations mean in everyday terms... Malawi is beautiful, both the land and the few people I met. There is poverty everywhere and as always the juxtaposition of beauty and poverty intrigues me.
The first day I arrived I was exhausted and feeling overwhelmed. I decided to go for a walk to the nearby village. It was a lovely walk, down a dusty dirt road with small households visible off in the trees. I could hear women chatting away in Chichewla (sadly not Swahili!) as I walked along in the afternoon sun.
Not long after I started walking I noticed some kids off in the fields playing soccer. They spotted me quickly and started running toward me - not an uncommon experience over the last few months, but oddly enough, this time they actually ran right past me. I watched with interest as they all started to lay down across the tire treads in the dirt road about 10 meters ahead of me. Side by side, at least 15 kids lay across the track and assumed a position with the fingers interlaced between their head and their legs crossed at the ankles. This "sleeping" position was only spoiled by the fact that in their excitement they were all stifling giggles and squirming with the effort to keep still. With some trepidation I began to walk past this litany of sleepers and after passing about the sixth child, one of them gave a sound and all of a sudden... they were all yelling and shaking their limbs about as if having some kind of fit. This was absolutely the last thing I expected them to do! I couldn't help it, I just started to laugh. The kids all jumped up and began congratulating each other on a joke well played. I kept laughing and eventually was able to shake all their hands. I told them it was a great trick, although I don't think they understood a word of what I said. The excitement quickly died off and the children all ran back to their abandoned soccer game.
Not one of them asked me for anything. It was truly one of the most rewarding experiences I have had so far. I will never forget their excitement.
The first day I arrived I was exhausted and feeling overwhelmed. I decided to go for a walk to the nearby village. It was a lovely walk, down a dusty dirt road with small households visible off in the trees. I could hear women chatting away in Chichewla (sadly not Swahili!) as I walked along in the afternoon sun.
Not long after I started walking I noticed some kids off in the fields playing soccer. They spotted me quickly and started running toward me - not an uncommon experience over the last few months, but oddly enough, this time they actually ran right past me. I watched with interest as they all started to lay down across the tire treads in the dirt road about 10 meters ahead of me. Side by side, at least 15 kids lay across the track and assumed a position with the fingers interlaced between their head and their legs crossed at the ankles. This "sleeping" position was only spoiled by the fact that in their excitement they were all stifling giggles and squirming with the effort to keep still. With some trepidation I began to walk past this litany of sleepers and after passing about the sixth child, one of them gave a sound and all of a sudden... they were all yelling and shaking their limbs about as if having some kind of fit. This was absolutely the last thing I expected them to do! I couldn't help it, I just started to laugh. The kids all jumped up and began congratulating each other on a joke well played. I kept laughing and eventually was able to shake all their hands. I told them it was a great trick, although I don't think they understood a word of what I said. The excitement quickly died off and the children all ran back to their abandoned soccer game.
Not one of them asked me for anything. It was truly one of the most rewarding experiences I have had so far. I will never forget their excitement.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Babel Fish
I am so in love with Swahili... okay to be honest I am in love with myself and all the Swahili I have managed to pick up in my two and a half month in East Africa. I formerly thought I was hopeless at learning languages, but I think perhaps I shall revise that story. Certainly I am not fluent or anything like that, but I am fairly proud of my Swahili gains.
Learning a language, as it turns out, is a somewhat mind-bending process. I remember one day, back at the hospital, the nurses asked me, "Kelsey, unataka chapo?" My brain immediately took up the challenge and translated "unataka" from Swahili to English as "do you want". Then the language engine of my brain sputtered and choked and missed a gear - "chapo" which is sheng for chapati, a favorite tea time snake, my brain heard as chapeau and translated from French to English as "hat". My response to the simple question "do you want chapati?" was therefore "what hat?" Needless to say this was met with quite a bit of hysterical laughter.
Of course that was ages ago and I've improved heaps since then. While on Zanzibar I managed to bargain for a scarf almost entirely in Swahili. I even came up with this sentence on the spot, no phrasebook or anything: "Jana, bei ya kwanze, elfu saba, halafu leo, bei ya kwanze elfu dumi no mbili!" It means: "Yesterday the first price was 7000 now today the first price is 12000!" I have no idea if it is grammatically correct, in fact it may well be a linguistic bastardization, but the vendor laughed so hard and ended up giving in to my price (5000) without much of a fight. Then when I pulled my money out of a knot in the corner of my wrap skirt he laughed again and said "dada (sister) you are like a maasai mama!" It was quite an entertaining experience, for both of us I think.
Finally my last language encounter, of which I am most please because I always hear people talk of this but I have never actually experience it myself (being the sad monolingual specimen that I am). I had been speaking with the bar tender at our campsite in Swahili all evening as his English seemed about as good as my Swahili. He came by our group after we had finished dinner - he was looking for a cooking pot which, unbeknownst to us we had borrowed earlier. He couldn't find the words in English but when he saw me he quickly switched back to Swahili. Overwhelmed by his words I told him "pole sema" or "speak slowly". So he repeated himself slower and, I'm sure, simpler and I managed to grasp what he was saying. I turned back to the group and pronounced, "Anasema ni souforria mdogo..." but then I floundered because I couldn't remember how to conjugate the word for "theirs". It didn't matter anyway because everyone was laughing and shouting "Kelsey, English!" And suddenly I couldn't find the words in English either. It was like all my words had fallen off their shelves into a mad jumble - nothing was categorized neatly anymore. I just wanted to say that the small pot belong to him, but instead I ended up pointing weakly and saying "The souforria, the souforria" Finally I regrouped and sorted it all out. The group was quite impressed and all commented on how handy my Swahili was - but I didn't feel handy, I felt linguistically shipwrecked.
I dreamed silent dreams that night.
Yesterday I left Tanzania and with it, the Swahili I have come to so enjoy. Malawi is beautiful. I really miss the Swahili though.
This is the story of how I begin to remember...
Editor's note: You might as well just dig out your Paul Simon Graceland album now and have a listen because I don't seem to be able to stop myself referencing the songs.
I come from a land of beautiful scenery - the rugged mountains and rolling prairies of Alberta will always take my breath away. I'll admit that sometimes I'm guilty of being a "scenery snob" and judging the sights of the planet always against my home: but the sight of the full moon gleaming over the vast Serengeti plain while the sun rose behind me, will always be seared on my mind as one of the most beautiful images on earth.
I wanted to post pictures of my four days on safari in Tanzania's Serengeti... but alas the computers here have failed me again. Oh well, you can all just wait in eager anticipation... I know I am also guilty of being a photo snob, but I assure you, I have some pretty amazing shots. For now you will have to be content with my writings, which pale in comparison to the real thing.
The whole concept of being "on safari" is somewhat of a throwback to colonialism with a definite tourist bent. In all honesty I was slightly ashamed to be riding around such beautiful terrain in a polluting four-by-four, holstering my camera instead of a rifle... but apparently not too ashamed because I still did it. I try to console myself with the fact that we have hired a local company with local guides and so at least my money is supporting the local economy.
The Serengeti plain is just that - a vast plain that at times looked like it could be actually be anywhere in Alberta, until a giraffe would walk by with that oddly graceful gait of theirs. Or the sight of the wildebeest migration - literally thousand and thousands of braying beasts dotting the plains until the dots merge together and become one solid black mass - would quickly snap me back to my African reality. Wildebeest have got to be one of the ugliest creatures around, with their awkward necks and bleach blond curtain of chin hair. Yet for all that ugliness, the sight of the migration is still nothing short of amazing.
All those wildebeest, having up to 8000 calves per day I'm told, create a veritable buffet for the predators of the Serengeti. The lions, leopards, cheetah and hyenas hardly need to work to pick off an assumably tasty little snack. The hyenas of course, are a dime a dozen, they waddle around like they own the place. We would even hear them cackling in the distance at night as we (tried) to rest in our tents. Also, we were luck enough to spot lions and even a beautiful leopard sulking in a tree. But the real treat, the best luck ever, was when we saw the cheetah make a kill.
Except for the lack of the serene British man narrating it, the whole thing was like watching animal planet - except way better because the smell and feel of the Serengeti was all around me. It was amazing too that it was all over so fast. The cheetah has lazed about for a while sitting up, watching the gazelles grazing, laying back down and rolling over. Finally, I suppose when he was hungry enough, he stood bolt upright and began stalking the herd. They had sensed his presence once earlier, but luckily gazelles have a rather short memory... within minutes of their tense alertness, they had completely forgotten what was over the ridge and "oh look... grass!" So this time when the cheetah burst from his hiding point, they seemed genuinely surprised.
I say burst but in actuality, it started out much slower than I expected. Not the burst of energy after the shotgun, but more a gentle gathering of speed with muscles rippling. Of course once he was in full flight is was beautiful and amazing to watch. His eye was set on a tiny little gazelle and every dart the gazelle made the cheetah was right on his tail. He finally pounced on the gazelle and the two of them spun out in a cloud of dust, from which the cheetah emerged, the little body dangling in his jaws. He marched proudly off into the buses to enjoy his meal. Like I said, very animal planet, very amazing. I saved my rendition of "Circle of Life" for the evening when the mood had subdued a bit and I was no longer speechless with the brilliance of the world we live in.
The Serengeti was amazing, I could have stayed there for weeks. But Tanzania of course had more interesting places for me in store. After the Serengeti it was off to Dar es Salaam and Zanzibar island... but that is for another time.
I come from a land of beautiful scenery - the rugged mountains and rolling prairies of Alberta will always take my breath away. I'll admit that sometimes I'm guilty of being a "scenery snob" and judging the sights of the planet always against my home: but the sight of the full moon gleaming over the vast Serengeti plain while the sun rose behind me, will always be seared on my mind as one of the most beautiful images on earth.
I wanted to post pictures of my four days on safari in Tanzania's Serengeti... but alas the computers here have failed me again. Oh well, you can all just wait in eager anticipation... I know I am also guilty of being a photo snob, but I assure you, I have some pretty amazing shots. For now you will have to be content with my writings, which pale in comparison to the real thing.
The whole concept of being "on safari" is somewhat of a throwback to colonialism with a definite tourist bent. In all honesty I was slightly ashamed to be riding around such beautiful terrain in a polluting four-by-four, holstering my camera instead of a rifle... but apparently not too ashamed because I still did it. I try to console myself with the fact that we have hired a local company with local guides and so at least my money is supporting the local economy.
The Serengeti plain is just that - a vast plain that at times looked like it could be actually be anywhere in Alberta, until a giraffe would walk by with that oddly graceful gait of theirs. Or the sight of the wildebeest migration - literally thousand and thousands of braying beasts dotting the plains until the dots merge together and become one solid black mass - would quickly snap me back to my African reality. Wildebeest have got to be one of the ugliest creatures around, with their awkward necks and bleach blond curtain of chin hair. Yet for all that ugliness, the sight of the migration is still nothing short of amazing.
All those wildebeest, having up to 8000 calves per day I'm told, create a veritable buffet for the predators of the Serengeti. The lions, leopards, cheetah and hyenas hardly need to work to pick off an assumably tasty little snack. The hyenas of course, are a dime a dozen, they waddle around like they own the place. We would even hear them cackling in the distance at night as we (tried) to rest in our tents. Also, we were luck enough to spot lions and even a beautiful leopard sulking in a tree. But the real treat, the best luck ever, was when we saw the cheetah make a kill.
Except for the lack of the serene British man narrating it, the whole thing was like watching animal planet - except way better because the smell and feel of the Serengeti was all around me. It was amazing too that it was all over so fast. The cheetah has lazed about for a while sitting up, watching the gazelles grazing, laying back down and rolling over. Finally, I suppose when he was hungry enough, he stood bolt upright and began stalking the herd. They had sensed his presence once earlier, but luckily gazelles have a rather short memory... within minutes of their tense alertness, they had completely forgotten what was over the ridge and "oh look... grass!" So this time when the cheetah burst from his hiding point, they seemed genuinely surprised.
I say burst but in actuality, it started out much slower than I expected. Not the burst of energy after the shotgun, but more a gentle gathering of speed with muscles rippling. Of course once he was in full flight is was beautiful and amazing to watch. His eye was set on a tiny little gazelle and every dart the gazelle made the cheetah was right on his tail. He finally pounced on the gazelle and the two of them spun out in a cloud of dust, from which the cheetah emerged, the little body dangling in his jaws. He marched proudly off into the buses to enjoy his meal. Like I said, very animal planet, very amazing. I saved my rendition of "Circle of Life" for the evening when the mood had subdued a bit and I was no longer speechless with the brilliance of the world we live in.
The Serengeti was amazing, I could have stayed there for weeks. But Tanzania of course had more interesting places for me in store. After the Serengeti it was off to Dar es Salaam and Zanzibar island... but that is for another time.
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