travels with janne

When I think of Zanzibar I think of spices. It is therefore a great delight to actually be here, on this pearl of an island set in a warm, turquoise ocean teeming with exotic marine life, and to visit a spice farm. We are treated to knowledge of how the various spices grow and for someone like me, who is avidly interested in things that grow and things that can be eaten, this is a fun learning experience.

We see vanilla growing like green beans on a vine (did you know they have to be hand-pollinated?), roots dug up from the ground that look like ginger but are actually turmeric (bright orange on the inside!), and a nutmeg covered with the bright red rubbery filaments that constitute mace (I always wondered where mace came from). Tiny green flower buds that look like cloves are actually cloves, in their “raw”, undried state.

Zanzibar also has other wonders, one of them being Jozani Forest. Here we see the endemic Kirk’s or Zanzibar red colobus, a monkey with a beautiful pelt in shades of burnished brown, white and black. The monkeys are not at all timid and permit us to come close enough to almost touch them. The Jozani Forest is dense and green like a rain forest and contains a large variety of plants including flowers with fantastic forms and colours. A mangrove is also part of the package where, when the tide is out, we can see how the tree roots clutch the wet ground like many-fingered claws. While the tide is out we can also see black crabs and fiddler crabs scurrying around.

It is still dark as we start our long, early morning walk to Lake Natron, a 60 km long alkaline lake that is home to thousands of flamingos. A Maasai guide leads the way, carrying our lunch in a backpack. The morning is still cool and the terrain is flat so the eight kilometres we walk are easy going. Along the way we pass through Maasai villages with cow dung huts.

A Maasai woman joins us and walks close by my side. The Maasai diet consists to a large degree of meat and milk – veggies being mostly for sissies in their opinion. It is therefore perhaps only natural that the woman smells of beef that is past its sell-by date. Normally this would not bother me but after several days of suffering from nausea and other digestive discomforts the smell turns my stomach. We try and communicate with each other but with not one single word in common that we both understand it is rather difficult.

After a couple of hours we reach the lake. The flamingos stand in the water that shimmers in the heat. They are not quiet. In fact, they sound like a distant herd of gnus. The walk back is strenuous because the sun is beating down and my camera equipment feels much heavier than when we set out in the cool of the dawn.

Next morning we head for Tarangire National Park. Tarangire is verdant in contrast to the stark and arid volcanic landscape we drove through to get here. Statuesque, ancient baobabs dot the green hills and valleys. We find a quiet spot where three elephants are eating breakfast. The huge animals tread quietly from tree to tree. At one point our vehicle is surrounded by the grey but friendly behemoths.

We can do nothing but sit and wait until they decide to move on, but that’s fine with us. We enjoy observing their behaviour and being in their company. One elephant uses her forehead to shake a tree so that small fruits tumble down while her elephant friends wait patiently for the goodies to land on the ground.

I am accustomed to scouting for lions on the ground – in the grass, in the shade of a bush, or underneath the branches of trees. Here, though, one of the safari perks is seeing so many lions in trees. So now I have gotten used to looking upwards to find lions. It is no mean feat for the big and heavy cats to clamber up in a tree, but they are rewarded with a good view of potential meals from their elevated vantage point.

They are not quite as elegant and light-footed as my pussycat at home. It is therefore very impressive to find a tree with no less than four lions in it. They have each found a branch to rest on. With great resourcefulness they have found positions that ensure they do not tumble down when sleep overtakes them. They either wedge themselves between the V of two branches or lean against another branch with their behind or shoulder. Another lion has balanced herself perfectly so that all four legs hang lifelessly downwards with no grip on anything.

At the base of the tree the fifth lion of the pride wakes up and decides to join her friends in the tree. She takes a heavy jump up, latching onto the bark with her long claws. The branch she covets is already occupied so a staring, snarling and lip-curling contest begins. Lion number five wins and the other lion must give up her good spot. She moves further out on the limb, causing it to bend and crack. Twigs break and fall to the ground. With a careful but awkward turnaround she settles down to continue her lofty afternoon snooze.

The rains have helped the grass grow tall and green. Many of the trees and flowers are in bloom and many of the animals have young. Hartebeests, Thompson’s gazelles, Grant’s gazelles, topis, impalas, waterbuck, a herd of about 200 buffalo, giraffes, zebras and gnus graze quietly. The occasional warthogs run away at top speed, their tails held high like radio antennae. The ears of three bat-eared foxes peep up from the tall grass and we are lucky to see the small animals emerge for a brief look at us.

The birds are something else! Colourful, caring lovebirds sit in a tree and nuzzle each other affectionately. Multi-coloured lilac-breasted rollers perch on twigs. Huge, muscular ostriches bow their heads to find items of interest on the ground. A pair of large kori bustards stride by, on the hunt for insects. A crowned crane struts, showing off its silly but impressive headdress. Superb starlings and Hildebrandt’s starlings change colours as they move in the rays of the sun.

We head for a hippo pool. On the way we see a lion in a tree and a leopard in another tree. The pond is packed with a huge pod of the pudgy hippos. They loll about, sometimes submerged, sometimes coming up for air. As is their custom, they defecate in the water, energetically swirling their tails to ensure maximum spreading of the manure. The result, unsurprisingly, is a pool that is one big, murky, greenish, fetid toilet. Yech!

Serengeti means “endless plains” in Maasai. The Serengeti is a place where fragrant, flat grasslands continue endlessly and even time seems to stand still. One gets the feeling that everything here is as it always has been and always will be.

A variety of acacia species dot the landscape, thorny trees in which birds feel well protected. Giraffes enjoy the leaves, which they can eat without getting their tongues bloodied because their tongues are tough as the roughest grade of sandpaper.

Here and there we see kopjes – rocks that stick up like unexpected islands in the otherwise flat landscape. The rocks are useful as leopard lookouts. Furry grey hyrax are sometimes found here, too. Perfectly formed volcanoes can be seen in the distance.

We spend a couple of days driving around in the Serengeti and are rewarded by sightings of lions in trees, in the grass and on the road – all them well-filled and looking healthy. One particular pair of young male lions are still eating their dinner – a young giraffe. We are so close we can hear one of the lions crunch the bones, sometimes sticking its entire head into the giraffe carcass to munch at the tasty parts.

Night falls. In the African bush, it is pitch black except for the stars strewn across the sky like thousands of diamonds on an endless velvet tablecloth. The night is far from quiet. One of the sounds I hear as I lie in my tent is the grunting of lions. They are presumably having a little talk about the night’s hunting strategy. On our way to this camp we saw thousands and thousands of gnus accompanied by zebras on their annual migration – good takings for the predators.

Next morning we go for a game drive. We are still in the Ngorongoro Conservation Area, now not far from alkaline Lake Ndutu. Almost immediately after leaving camp we see a leopard up in a tree, keeping guard over the light brown gnu calf it has killed, dragged up in the branches and partially eaten. The green-eyed cat lies elegantly above us, serenely washing its paws after its meal.

A few minutes later we come upon a male lion and three females, all of them looking very sated, satisfied and healthy, their cheeks still pink with blood. They have been feasting on a zebra. The meagre remains of the zebra are now covered with a variety of hungry and quarrelling vultures including white-headed vulture, white-backed vulture, hooded vulture, lappet-faced vulture, and Rüppels griffon vulture.

Later on, we see two black-backed jackals and a hyena roaming around, looking for food.

Millions of years ago a volcano erupted. Later on, it collapsed on itself, creating the Ngorongoro Crater. At the bottom of the crater, in the caldera, fresh water springs feed streams that are the basis for a diverse ecosystem. The lush vegetation found during the rainy season provides a cornucopia of nourishment for grazing animals that in turn provide dinner for lions, leopards, jackals and hyenas. The 20 km wide crater also contains a salt lake from which thousands of delicately pink flamingos find food.

We wind our way down the one-way gravel road that leads to the caldera. Leafy green trees and bushes line the route but once in a while we glimpse panoramic views of the crater and the salt lake. Once arrived at the bottom, we are amazed at the number and variety of animals. No wonder this is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Three rare black rhino graze in the company of hundreds of gnus. At this time of year, the gnus and zebras have been busy producing the next generation and we are treated to the sight of wobbly-kneed zebra foals and suckling gnu calves.

A hyena skulks about looking for a free meal. A solitary golden jackal patrols, also on the lookout for something to eat. We see a lion, some elephants, flamingos, hippos, crowned cranes, warthogs and Thompson’s gazelles. A large herd of buffalo grazes, looking deceptively mild in their bovine way.

Since this is not a national park but a conservation area, the Maasai are permitted to use the area for their animals during the day. So, interspersed with the wild animals, we see these tall, slim, proud people in their colourful garb, keeping watch over their donkeys, sheep, goats and precious cattle.

The morning is still cool and fragrant as we walk by bushes and acacia trees towards a small plume of smoke. Suddenly, it is as though we have stepped 10,000 years back in time.

Six men and boys, some of whom are wearing baboon skins, sit around a small campfire, in the shade of a large fig tree. A few metres away sit two groups of women and children and a smaller group of men. We have come to the camp of a group of about 20 Hadzabe people (also known as Hadza). They belong to a nomadic tribe of about 1000 people that still live as hunter-gatherers in the area of Lake Eyasi south of Serengeti and Ngorongoro.

We shake hands and speak a word of greeting (our local guide has taught us the correct word to use) to each individual in the group. Luckily for us, the word of greeting is not one of the words that uses the click sound that is an integral ingredient in the Hadza language.

The elder works on a voluminous pipe to get it going heartily, inhales a huge amount of smoke and coughs so intensely I fear for his health. The cough, though, is apparently the appropriate and desired response to what we later discover is marijuana.

The Hadzabe men hunt kudu, impala, warthog, baboons, small mammals, and birds using a bow and arrow. For large game they use poisoned arrows. They make their own bows and arrows and poison, but trade honey, meat and skins with the neighbouring Datoga tribe to obtain metal arrowheads, rubber tire sandals, a few clothes – and marijuana.

Being a good hunter is essential for survival – and for finding a mate. A man must kill four baboons before he is eligible for the partner game. The boy in our group, who might be about 11 years old, has already killed his first baboon and proudly wears the skin as a shirt. The women gather tubers and fruit.

The Hadzabe sleep under the shade and shelter of an acacia tree or in the hollow of a baobab tree. They also construct a very simple hut made of loosely interwoven branches and twigs. The hut looks like an inverted, definitely not rainproof bird’s nest.

Four of the men and boys go hunting and we are welcome to follow behind. Carrying their bows and arrows they walk at breakneck speed over the rocky and hilly terrain, oblivious to acacia thorns and to the fact that we three tourists are straggling behind trying to find time to take a few photos (and catch my breath…). This hunt is not a tourist set-up.

They stop abruptly and one hunter creeps slowly up to a tree, takes aim and shoots. A starling plummets to the ground. The small boy is likewise an ace shot and later on he shoots a squirrel in the throat so it dies instantly. A third tidbit is acquired by a hunter when he climbs up a baobab tree, sticks his arm in a hole in the tree and pulls out a hornbill and two hornbill chicks. A quick bite in the birds’ necks and the birds are dead.

After a while the hunters take a break. Finding a comfortable spot on a slope in the lee of a rock they gather some dry grass and a few twigs. One hunter rapidly twirls a stick in the dry material in the time-honoured manner and presto! A small cooking fire gets going. The squirrel is pelted and the birds plucked, the intestines thrown to the hunting dogs that have accompanied us the whole morning, and the meaty snacks are thrown directly on the fire. It does not take long before the food is deemed ready for eating (still raw and bleeding, in my opinion). Amid much smacking of lips the squirrel, the starling, the hornbill, and the two scrawny hornbill chicks are consumed.

Read more about the Hadzabe in a National Geographic article: http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/2009/12/hadza/finkel-text