
So Timo is back in the country, on holiday from Germany where he was studying something serious, like Engineering or Movie Production. I don’t quite remember which. Millions of brain cells have been destroyed since, and the memory of the day’s activities, though vivid, may suffer from effects of the consumption of copious amounts of Viceroy over the years. As is Timo’s nature, he brought along a guest from Ugerumani to boast to him the sights and sounds of Magical Kenya. This Mzungu, a medical doctor, who we shall call Ngania, in turn brought his wife with him. Now please realize I am not talking about a young medic, eager to eradicate the world of Malaria or Tuberculosis, but a 40 something seasoned gentleman who has had an opportunity to visit Africa without spending his entire pension.
OG is a cheeky chap managing a transport business in Industrial Area. He has done this forever and now is able to do it with his eyes closed. He is the adventurers type of guy who asks “why not?”, when he should be yelling, “hell no!” I tell you this not to disparage him but enable you to understand him. I on the other hand, was a trader in farm produce, specializing in bananas. OG, Timo and I are friends from way before. So when Timo asks us to join him as he takes his wazungus for a road trip one weekend; we readily jump at the offer.
So early one Friday morning, Timo, OG, Dr and Mrs Ngania and I, drove down Mombasa road. Turned right at Emali and drove the most boring 100 or so kilometres to Oloitokitok where Timo’s grandparents live. Like a well marinated fart, word of the peculiar guests spread around the neighbourhood and in no time we had a steady stream of watus streaming in to say “jambo” to the wazungus. We were celebs mpaka we were taken to the shopping centre for drinks. Anyhow this is not the point so let me say, we ate, we drank, we slept.
The next morning after a liquid breakfast to kill the hangovers, a lengthy goodbye and politely declining to accept a live goat as a going away present to the Doctor, we set off for the Amboseli National Park. The roads were rough but all weather and our little 4 wheel drive tackled the terrain courageously as I was behind the wheel. We arrived at the KWS gate, paid up and were efficiently processed and shown to the KWS guest house. Now this is a modern three bed roomed bungalow, simply but comfortably furnished, available in deluxe mode, should you require and thus pay for house help and/ or a cook, or Standard mode. Naturally, we opted for the self catering or better still, no catering alternative.
After settling in and freshening up, we board our trusty chariot and set off on a game drive. We drive around for about an hour, seeing all the important animals and identifying them to our guests. OG is at the wheel, driving as gently as the booze in his head and the road ahead will permit. He is, however, bouncing us against each other and I can tell that the good doctor, riding shotgun, does not appreciate Timo and I literally sandwiching his significant other. A loud expletive interrupts my thoughts and OG pulls over. In unison we call out, “what?” It turns out that a warning light on the dashboard has lit up. We all know it is forbidden but the men alight from the car to check for the problem, in the middle of the Amboseli National Park. Timo has some rudimentary mechanical knowledge and his diagnosis is that we have a punctured radiator, in the middle of the Amboseli National Park.
We need to refill the radiator and make a quick dash back to our guest house. A hasty search in our vehicle realizes an empty five litre jerry can. That’s a start, now to find a source of water. Have I mentioned we are in the middle of the Amboseli National Park? The view is spectacular; straight ahead in the distance is Mount Kilimanjaro. Its snow capped peak defiantly pointing at the now setting sun. On the left is a bush, thick and impenetrable, extending over one hundred meters backwards and forwards. On the right, ruminants in their thousands are grazing in the large expanse of savannah grassland as long legged birds dip their sharp beaks into a watering hole in search of food.
“Isn’t that water?” asks Mrs. Ngania. No one answers. Not because her question is silly but because of what the next question will be. “Who will go get some?” continues Mrs. Ngania. Mr. Ngania is quiet, wishing he could shut Mrs. Ngania up before she volunteers him. Timo and I volunteer OG to be the first to fetch water. He grabs the jerry can without uttering a word and saunters into the pasture. “Is it safe?” the Nganias wonder aloud. I explain that it is safe because, if there is an attack from the right, the animals will run and we will see. “What if the attack is from the left?” asks Mr. Ngania. Timo without missing a beat answers, “Then we will run and the animals will see” We were there for 5 more minutes as the Nganias wiped tears of laughter off their faces. We collected enough water to fill our radiator, carried a full load just in case, and made a dash for the safety of our bungalow.
The Nganias whipped up a wonderful supper of Pasta and chicken salad. We then sat around a bonfire, sipped on Viceroy and watched the stars as we conversed in progressively louder tones. The flames grew larger and larger and I thought we may need some water on standby in the event that a runaway spark attempted to light a bush fire. I brought the jerry can from before, and placed it strategically between Mr. Ngania and myself. “What’s that for?” Mr. Ngania asks. “It’s our fire engine” I replied.
I can still hear them laughing.