As dawn broke on our 3rd day we departed Nairobi in 2 very full 4x4
vehicles, each hauling a trailer loaded to the gunnels with equipment.
We headed North for about 80 km leaving the bustle of the city behind
and as we ascended the Ngong Hills rising to almost 4000 feet above
sea level, the vastness and majesty of the Great Rift Valley came into
view. As the dominant profile of Mount Longenot loomed ever closer we
headed West between the Mau Escarpment and Loita Hills towards Narok.
With a searing African sun approaching it’s pinnacle, the landscape was
flat and lush green due to the recent rains. For much of the year the
terrain here is brown, parched and dusty, but the short rainy season
had arrived only days earlier and the evidence was everywhere. Harsh
and normally drab looking spiny bushes had exploded into brilliant crimsons
and the valley floor had in places become a carpet of vivid colours,
each portion competing for an onlookers gaze. In northern Tanzania the
great Serengeti Plains burst through and spill into Kenya to become the
Masai Mara. After heading South for several more hours we came to its
entrance at the Talek Gate. Amongst other animals that live here, this
was the home of Africa’s big five. Originally used only by hunters,
the term big five is a reference to five of Africa’s greatest wild
animals: the lion, leopard, elephant, buffalo and rhino, and the term
is now synonymous with Africa’s wild areas.
In an almost surreal moment we bumped and rolled across the Masai Mara
at almost 40 mph as American Country music played loudly through the
CD player. A group of 9 giraffe ran alongside us briefly and each of
us chewed sweets, tapped our feet to the music and relished the uniqueness
of the moment. The deeper into the Mara we travelled so the soil texture
changed from red to dirty grey black. Sam explained that this soil was
called black cotton, which makes for good traction when dry. He explained
that should the rain hit this soil it would fluff up and no depth of
tyre tread would help.“ It’s like trying to drive on lard” said
Sam, who then continued with tales of broken vehicle halfshafts and wishbones
and being stranded for days on end; we glanced at each other in silence,
smiled and shrugged. The remote location of Sianna Springs is an ideal
spot to locate a tourist lodge, which offers visitors fabulous views
of the Masai Mara and an abundance of wild animals to watch in their
normal habitat. It offers your everyday action seeking holidaymaker a
convivial blend of genuine African culture, wild animal safaris and a
more than acceptable level of comfort at the day’s end. During
evening mealtimes at the lodge the local Maasai will perform ritual chanting
and dancing and they are more than pleased to have their pictures taken.
They will usually conclude their performance by launching a mini-market
where guests can buy Maasai trinkets and other goods. In fact the Maasai
play a very important role in the very functioning of the lodge. They
not only wait at tables, carry out cleaning and maintenance, but have
a very pro-active attitude to environmental, and particularly wildlife
issues. It is of course in their best interests to encourage and promote
tourism here not only for the obvious financial rewards. The lodge has
a clinic which serves the local Maasai community, which, although less
than one mile away, is on the other side of the Omiriu River. This river
is home to a startling number of hippopotamus and crocodile and when
the river runs high it is simply impassable. Any would-be patient requiring
treatment, or woman in need of childbearing assistance has the option
of waiting for 4 or 5 days for the waters to subside and then chancing
it, or walking almost 100km to find an alternative crossing point. Joseph
Obutu, a Maasai elder told me that human bodies are frequently found
lain upon the banks of the river, especially during the long rainy season.
When we arrived the opaque, chocolate brown water of the Ormiriu river
flowed at a steady pace to join its bigger brother the Mara river, which
then flows on to Lake Victoria.
When the vehicle engines stopped, door slamming ceased and general chit-chat
noises subsided, there was a wonderful tranquillity about this place.
Insects rattled and birds sang, the sun shone brightly and the river
gently bubbled along its course. The peaceful scene was soon disturbed
by a very loud, low frequency farting noise made by the biggest hippopotamus
in the world, who had raised his huge, magnificent head out of the water
to take a look at us. This massive beast was no more than 15ft from where
we stood and Sam assured us that the rest of his family and friends were
very nearby; we all made a mental note not to fall in.
The local Maasai community had worked very well here and all the preliminary
work had been completed. The foundations on either side, which Sylvester
and Freddie had poured 3 weeks ago had set well and after double checking
with theodolight that everything was in line, we began to string up our
first bridge. As wire ropes, turnbuckles and tools were unloaded from
trailers the locals began to gather around us. What started as one or
two people soon turned into almost a hundred, who all sat on their haunches
to watch us with great interest. Even children had been taken from their
schools to watch musungu (white man) make them a bridge. Rob South and
Dave Hammond took to the far side of the river ready to catch a thin
shot line firmly secured to a hand sized rock. After several amusing
failed attempts by Dave Sheppard, Sylvester picked it up and launched
it high across the river landing with a heavy thump on the other side,
and narrowly missing Dave Hammond’s head. The line was secured
to a heavier line, which in turn was secured to the first 5/8” diameter
wire rope. The cable was slowly hauled across, threaded through its post
top, then looped, tied, secured to its turnbuckle and attached in it’s
anchor point some 15ft rear of that. The 2nd cable followed more successfully,
then both were provisionally tensioned from our side using a device known
as a ‘come-a-long’. Once sufficient cable tensions are achieved,
the boardwalk ‘hangers’ are suspended from the cables and
secured by clamps. 47 hangers would be needed, each 1 metre equidistant
from its neighbour giving a post to post bridge span of almost 160ft.
The first hanger is slid forward and three boards of steam pressed and
insect treated wood are secured to it using 3/8” round headed bolts
and nuts. The process continues using interlocking boards of 2 different
lengths and as each is secured, so the bridge begins to take shape making
its way across the river. After many hours of drilling, hammering and
tightening, the boards have made it to the other side. Lengths of 3/16” galvanised
wire are then fed through the three rows of guide holes on each side
of the hangers to prevent people falling off the bridge.
The galvanised wires are tensioned and secured to each post to give
the bridge more stability, as well as being a safety measure, “but
how do we do that?” was my question to Harmon. “Oh shoot,
that’s easy!” he exclaimed as he handed me the oddest mechanical
contraption I had ever seen. The device was a combination of chain loops,
cams, handles and slotted levers, which apparently would easily apply
the right tension to the wires. I fell silent and handled the device
for a few moments before looking up at a smiling Harmon, who was poised
with watch in hand. “ OK Royal Air Force engineers, think you’re
smart huh? You got 10 minutes to work it out..go!” shouted Harmon.
I laughed whilst handing the gadget to Rob, the Engineering Officer,
telling him that for once his engineering degree might come in handy!
After about 7 minutes he was part way there, but the frustration was
all too much for Freddie, who simply had to spill the beans on how it
worked. Harmon later confessed to spending a tidy sum on this device
and then spending several hours trying to work out how to use it. Final
tensions were applied to the cables at our side, a tweak more on each
of the turnbuckles on the other side and we are almost done. Some landscaping
to do, concrete in the post with the Project Albert logo on it and give
the whole thing another lick of red oxide paint and voila, Albert’s
first bridge is complete.
The Maasai love to celebrate, and today they had good reason. In front
of us the children assembled in three lines, each child grasping a small
leafy branch in their right hand. After one high pitched shriek they
began to chant in rhythm, some children making low guttural noises and
grunts, whilst others chanted an octave or two higher. As they chanted
so they moved forwards and backwards, thumping the ground hard with their
bare feet and swishing their branches first in the air then across the
ground. This was simply perfect rhythm and each of the noises combined
with movement to produce a very powerful spectacle. The chant was a traditional
greeting and the strange noises and grunts were emulations of the animals
which live in the bush. When the dancing was finished the Chief assembled
the whole community by the bridge on the gentle slope of the river bank.
Children in school uniforms in one area, beautifully dressed Maasai women
adorned with spectacular bracelets and bangles sat quietly in another,
whilst the men-folk and elders stood separately in their traditional
red attire with their weapons and symbols of status by their sides. Such
a splendid scene of vivid colour would be an artist’s dream. The
speeches began with the Chief, who offered us greetings and went on to
explain to us the impact our bridge would have on his community. He thanked
us, and God, many times over claiming that is was a miracle to have such
a fine bridge. He then invited each of his elders one by one to do the
same. Half way through Harmon whispered that I would be expected to address
the community. The speeches continued for a few more minutes, then Harmon
said a few words followed by Sam Harrell, who lead us all in prayer.
What on earth do you say to a Maasai Chief, 50 Maasai warriors and all
their women and children? In fact it was a wonderful opportunity to explain
how a bunch of ordinary people from England collected and saved money,
just so we could come to Kenya and help such noble and honourable people.
Every word was translated verbatim and when I finished after 10 minutes
or so, the whole community exploded into rapturous applause. Whatever
I said must have hit a spot somewhere.
With the formalities at and end it was now time to feast! The Maasai
diet is not an adventurous one, it is the Atkins diet taken to the extreme.
The Maasai eat meat and drink milk and frequently produce a concoction
called Kalabash. This magical food is a combination of either cow, goat
or sheep milk infused with a portion of the host animal’s blood
and urine. The blood clearly adds protein to carbohydrate and the urine
apparently acts as a kind of anti-bacterial agent much akin to a disinfectant.
It was never satisfactorily explained that Kalabash production was born
from scientific research, but this concoction is fed to the young and
old and the evidence of its effectiveness was clearly visible. Fresh
Kalabash will last for 3 or 4 days, becoming much like a curdled cheese
towards the end. Apart from a little kale now and again, that’s
it. Their meat is specific too. The Maasai do not eat carnivorous animals
nor do they eat chicken, but they do eat sheep and cattle and on special
occasions they eat goat. Today one had been slaughtered in our honour
and had begun to cook over an open fire several hours earlier. It was
now just about medium rare, so we were gathered into a group to sit with
the Chief and elders under an acacia tree. A Maasai warrior almost 8
ft tall approached and laid a large leafy branch in front of each of
us. This chap was a huge and intimidating looking figure, yet as he greeted
each of us individually his face exploded into the most brilliant of
happy smiles. Neal Wreford looked at his branch and whispered “ what’s
this for?” He got shrugs all-round until Sylvester burst into laughter
and explained that they were our plates. Large chunks of goat duly arrived
and most of us tucked in with gusto, no knives and forks here! Dave Hammond
was less than enthusiastic about competing with bluebottles for his lunch,
so he made an excuse that he was team photographer and began to take
photos. Paul had been given a very large and fatty portion, which had
not cooked through. Rather than insult his hosts he discreetly filled
his pockets with the meat and then sat quite contentedly watching the
rest of us munch away. His contentment was short lived, because his empty
plate was soon filled with another large lump! |
