Lake Manyara

From Tarangire, we made our way through a tropical rainstorm - heavy, brief, refreshing - towards Lake Manyara, stopping to buy a small gas stove on a cylinder before arriving at Migombani Camp.

Stop at Mto wa Mbuu for a gas stove

Drying the bedding after the enroute rain

Morning at Migombani

Our tent just visible in the right of the picture

 Perched on the side of a hill overlooking the lake, the camp is one of the best we have ever stayed at. Lush green Kikuyu grass to pitch a tent on, super clean toilets and wash places in makuti bandas and an infinity pool with the most beautiful view across the Rift Valley.

Swimming as bee-eaters dived to collect water from the surface, African pied wagtails chattering along the edge, while black kites, tawny eagles, augur buzzards and vultures took turns at soaring above our heads, using the thermals which kicked through the site every few minutes.

Quiet, relaxed, a place to unwind after hours of driving...and play countless games of Monopoly Deal...

The stay at Migombani has been wonderful: what’s not to like about the peace of the campsite perched on a hill, views of Lake Manyara from the infinity pool? It has been a welcome respite from the constant bumping on the dusty roads of Tarangire.

The lush green kikuyu grass is thick and springy, providing the ideal surface for pitching tents and lying underneath Jonny’s car to check out the mechanics...

Adele and I find excitement of a different kind. As I open my tiny, carry-on suitcase, a small, grey, rather elegant mouse scuttters into hiding beneath the clothes. Ah.

We had heard mouse-like sounds in Tarangire, but we realise that this mouse had travelled all the way from Usa River with us. There had been a mouse in the house we were staying in, evident by the hole chewed in a cotton bag and the droppings it consequently left on the sofa. Where I thought it had disappeared into some convenient hole in the wall, it had found refuge instead in the suitcase and come along with us. Some hitchhiker. Slowly unearthing it – eventually found hiding in a shoe – it hopped out and dashed to the shrubbery. Our gift to Migombani.

After that, time to relax: swimming; endless games of Monopoly Deal; gazing down at Lake Manyara. We meet a super-friendly, young German couple, Christians working for Help for the Maasai, a small German-run charity. The expat world is small: they have mutual acquaintances in common with Jonny and Adele. They run an orphanage, he on the technical side (with an outstanding devotion to all things Toyota and extensive knowledge of planes, trains and automobiles) and she an accountant. We enjoy their conversation.

 It is New Year’s Eve, so there is dinner at tables set under the stars, with a variety of expatriates, all working in different sectors of industry and aid in and around Arusha. As well as Dirk and Sarah, there is a South African couple working in tourism and conservation; a semi-retired Swede, looking for investment and business opportunities; two Dutch men who work for a company producing airport security doors; and a sweet young French couple, with Moroccan/Madagascaran ancestry, working for the French embassy and teaching in Kampala. An interesting evening...

Tarangire!

Up at 4pm to leave for Tarangire National Park on the other side of Arusha. On Jonny and Adele's doorstep - a drive of less than 2 hours.

In the early morning, mid-power cut, we creep from our beds. The Toyota is already loaded up with camping gear, tents and sleeping bags safely lashed under a tarpaulin on the roof rack. It is still dark as we leave Usa River en route to Tarangire National Park.

Driving through Africa in the early hours is an interesting experience.

There are very few police checks and we are not stopped once, so we arrive at the park gates just after 7.30am. A huge baobab in full leaf stands sentinel. Park fees are hefty: 50 dollars per 24 hours per person; an additional 30 dollars for the vehicle per day; and another 30 dollars per person for camping. Not what we, as Kenya residents, were used to: here, all non-citizens are treated expensively alike.

Still, it is worth it. Two minutes in to the park and we encounter two large elephants next to the road, unimpressed by our presence to the extent that they completely ignore us. We manage to turn off the severely corrugated main road, driving on sandy tracks and encountering more birds and animals than we can remember.

A herd of "Swala Pala", which is Swahili for "Impala"

2 suspicious old Bull Cape Buffaloes

Lunch time siesta view

Lunchtime picnic spot- a view of M.M.B.A. 

Giraffe at waterhole

Elephant Femur

Sausage Tree or Kigelia Africana

Baobab in leaf

Lion Tracks

More tracks of Lion, plus mongoose and Guinea Fowl on left of picture

We drove without seeing another vehicle for most of the morning, until we stopped at the picnic site overlooking the swamp where one other car had stopped. Driving along the edge, the list of birds grew: marabou stork; spoonbills; yellow-billed stork; sacred egret;

Vervet Monkeys

Hippo and a reed buck in the distance

A martial eagle perches, unusually, on the ground, preening its feathers and drinking from a muddy pool. It is a huge bird. We stop to watch dung beetles busy at work, rolling huge balls of mud and elephant dung in which to lay their eggs. One beetle appears to act foolishly: he manoeuvres his ball of dung – the size of a cricket-ball – to the side of the road and seems to attempt to push it up the soft soil which has accumulated there. He fails, stopping half way up: but then starts to dig around the ball, creating a circular cavity into which, after several rounds of excavation, the ball sinks until it becomes invisible. And safe...

Giraffe stroll between the trees, oxpeckers easily visible on their backs. One old bull, however, stands in a semi-stupor right next to the road. We see an oxpecker on its breast, diving into a deep wound in the folds of the skin, other, older, scars on neck and flank.

Driving up to Tarangire Safari Lodge, we stop for a drink and the view over the plains. Nothing quite like seeing miles and miles of bush, unoccupied in the heat of the day, save for a few elephants sauntering down to the river below.

But we are not staying safely in a lodge, but camping. Memories come flooding back of so many camping trips in a previous African life...

Night fall

The public campsite is somewhat of a disappointment for Jonny: there are several buildings – toilet blocks; a covered eating area, with tables on a concrete base; and a large kitchen with sinks and workbenches, already fully occupied by safari company cooks, preparing supper for the tourist who will arrive to occupy the dozen or so tents which look to be permanently set up. It is busy, too European, for him. We agree, in a sense... and yet, here in Africa – and even elsewhere – there is safety in numbers...

There are two or three other private vehicles, and we find a spot on the edge, overlooking where impala are peaceably grazing and baboons play on a fallen tree trunk  fifty metres away. We negotiate for firewood, building a fire as the sun sets. An early night...

...and  I sleep soundly, missing the sounds of lions chuff-huffing through the bush, two leopards fighting and a lone hyena calling mournfully in the distance.

I only hear some small creature which appears to be snuffling around the outside of the tent.

The morning brings a decision: hustle out of the park before the 24 hours expires, or stay and pay for another day?  We opt for the latter, enjoying seeing more and more elephant – we must have seen over a thousand, often surrounded by several herds. A herd trumpets and complains near the campsite: perhaps the large troop of baboons we encounter on the way out were proving to be a nuisance?

We revel in the birds: red-billed hornbills, more Von Der Decken's hornbills than we can count. A huge flock of black-faced lovebirds hopping among the branches of an acacia before flying up en masse, their green bodies startling against the blue sky...

...and then, time to move on. To Migombani campsite....

Farewells

After Christmas, and a relaxed Boxing Day of reading and games, it was time to leave.

We had had a wonderful walk through the coffee and the forest edging the farm,  a last evening together, and then the morning came: time to say goodbye.

Words cannot express how dear these friends are: they have pieces of our hearts. We have, though often thousands of miles apart, grown up together. Saying goodbye is heart rending.

2018. News!

I sit here, wondering what to say about our lives this year, and realise, in this season of Wonder, that the year has indeed been filled with wondrous happenings.

Wonder #1: Guernsey experienced snow. School was shut, so we made a large snowman in the garden and revelled in snowy icy walks. It is such a rarity for us that we were, quite simply, enthralled.

 Wonder#2: news of our status as grandparents-to-be arrived in March...see Wonder#10. #butdon’tcallmeGrandma

Wonder #3: Living where we do, a stone’s throw from the sea, we find ourselves frequently in thrall to stunning sunrises and spectacular sunsets, our garden adding its colour to our lives through the seasons. A constant invitation to stop and stare...

Wonder #4: Frequent forays into France. February; April; July and August...so much to discover. We have become obsessed with discovering yet another beau village or petit cite de character, one medieval church or castle after another, yet more snippets of history. The motorhome – though sometimes acting as a man-cave – has indeed been a great blessing.

Wonder #5: Angie still loves teaching. No week is complete without a funny or inspirational story involving children... Richard loves being at home. On his own. All day. He divides his time between dog-walking/lookingafterthehouse/ tinkering/repairing/researchingontheinternet/fixingthingsup.   #usefulbloketohavearound #worksforfree

Wonder#6: history. Living on Guernsey sometimes feels as if we are living in an open-air museum dedicated to World War 2, specifically the five years of Guernsey’s occupation by the Germans. Our coast is still ‘littered’ with fortifications and there is always something new to discover. The past is fascinating...and, of course, this year saw the release of the film The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, based on a novel set here just after the war. A lovely story, if you haven’t seen it.  Also recommend the book ‘Hitler’s British Isles’ by Duncan Barrett.

Wonder#7: true friendship lasts beyond years, beyond life. Friends are a tremendous gift, who we give thanks for whenever we think of them. Not to be taken lightly or for granted. We have had great joy in reconnecting with old friends, whether the gap had been a few months (2 months away on our own in France seemed like a long time) or several decades (Angie met up with her college friend Sue... 30 years: neither had, apparently, changed at all...?!) Yet...great sadness in April, when Angie’s dear friend Ann lost her long battle with cancer, gaining heavenly glory.

Wonder#8: wonderful times with Jonny and Adele (on holiday from Tanzania where they are both teaching) in the motorhome in France: hiking in the Pyrenees; exploring pretty villages; hanging out together... and then, surprising us in France on their way to New Zealand from Iraq, Cat and Andy joined us .... special, special times.

Wonder#9: Angie was invited to Buckingham Palace...no, not to see the Queen but, as a teacher, to take part in a celebration of children’s work regarding the centenary of the World War I. It was a tremendous honour, one she had never even dreamed of...and very conscious that all are invited to accept the Greatest Gift of all, offered without expectation of worth, freely to us all...Jesus.

Wonder#10: Cara Grace Dow arrived safely, in Auckland, to a very happy family. Wonder of wonders, that all is well and she will soon experience her own very first Christmas... #besotted #grandparents #beautifullittlegirl

We wish a wondrous Christmas for all those who touch our lives, with more joy and blessing in the year ahead than they could even imagine.

Christmas!!

The days here in the tropics have blurred together. For me, Northern Hemisphere born and bred, despite many, many warm Christmases, Christmas in my mind and heart is cold and crisp.

Yet Christmas comes. Our Christ-birth celebration comes regardless.

So our day is filled with love and laughter. We cook and clean up, organise and arrange. Byron carefully prepared a suckling pig, roasting it on a spit for Christmas dinner.

Presents under the tree; gin and tonics are the drink of the day; friends come. We feast and celebrate, singing carols and our own version of The Twelve Days of Christmas:
On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love sent to Me: 
Twelve sisal ornaments
Eleven presents opened
Ten carols a-playing
Nine teas are brewing
Eight beers are chilling
Seven gin and tonics
Six guests arrivi ng
Five kind Bordens
Four Pollards here
Three sleeping dogs
Two string guitars and 
One pig roasting merrily on a spit!

The day is warm and gentle. Time to sit, relax, chat.

And keep turning and turning the spit.