1 August, Day 49: Due North

After breakfast we finish up our packing (so hot, so HOT!!) and jump on the intertube to check out the places in the north. I bail to find an ATM, get TOTALLY lost, get back to the hotel about 40 minutes later, head back to the room, shower and cool down under the aircon and grab Annelie to show me where the damned ATM was (she has a much keener sense of direction than I do).

Stand in a long queue to eventually be able to draw money in 100 000 TSH sessions (100K TSH is not worth much... so this takes a long time to get to 400K). While we were waiting in the queue Annelie plays taxi drivers off each other until we get the best deal to head north, $25 down from 80. Good girl.

Back to the hotel and say our goodbyes. M&M are heading south to Coral rock while we aim for a few places in the north. The Jah-Mobile arrives at 09:30, a very chilled and laid back, soft spoken Zanzibarian-Rastafarian loads our bags. We head out of Stone Town and make our way north for about an hour and a half. Gangsta rap plays on the stereo, he hands me a cd pouch to change the music, I decline and turn it up. In the Jah-Mobile, with the tinted windows and Rasta stickers the music has a calming effect on us. I do feel an urge for a drive by shooting from time to time, but I override the sensation. Irey.

He gets pulled over at every police check (well, duh) and they smack talk that Swahili before letting us move along. What’s up with the po-po, yo?? Can’t keep a good brother locked down, you know wha’ i’m sayin? No doubt.

Flaming Tree lodge is first on the list but it’s a dud. Chollo (our Rasta brother from another mother) suggest we skip Nungwi all together and head to Kendwa, which has larger beaches. So we aim for the middle of several sites, called Kendwa Rocks. We arrive there just before 12 and check out a room. The staff is either very busy, or very rude. So it’s hard to get a straight answer but we eventually get shown a room, one of only three available. Huge beach, HUGE! Stretches for miles in each direction, bungalows ringing a large cordoned off section of sand with the bar and dive centre about 50 meters away on the beach proper. So you can pretty much walk along the beach to the other resorts. I stall our aloof an rather rude host while Annelie runs to the other places to see what they have to offer. At $85 per night, this place is quite overpriced for what you get. But you can’t beat it with location and the bar and beach area is full of people, so there’s lots of life here.

Annelie eventually comes back panting saying between breaths we should take the room. Every other place is fully booked or won’t allow walk-in bookings. Yikes! So we just manage to secure the overpriced bungalow as 2 more parties walk in and ask about it. The reception area is a mess of bags and travellers, including our own bags and bodies. A porter carries our concrete slab to the room and we strip down into our swim gear post haste. Can you believe we haven’t been in this glorious water yet?? We immediately rectify the situation. Bath water, is all I can say. Clear, clean, warm bath water. Back at the restaurant we order cocktails and pizza, play checkers (I lose) and kick back in some of the numerous hammocks and sun beds. There is a ship, or rather half a ship beached on the sand, called the “Jafrezy Queen”, which also happens to be the name of the bar/restaurant here.

We take a long stroll up and down the beach to the other resorts. There is a massive one on the end of the stretch to the right, but it looks very exclusive and has a HUGE restaurant built right onto the water, perched on wooden stilts. It forms part of an even bigger hotel and pool area starting from the beach and climbing about 3 layers into the hillside. Security informs us that we need to be fully clothed to even go to reception. Not today, bub. Head back to the Kendwa rocks and chill.

There is a party tonight, with acrobatics and fire dancers. After another intense session of doing absolutely fokall we shower and head down to the bar. Here we meet two Brits from close to Manchester and chat away, order more drinks and so on. As luck would have it, another guy sits next to us and ask us in Afrikaans “so where are we from?”. Long story short, but he flew in to meet up with his cousin who is here for one day. He’s cousin is travelling down from London, also by 4x4! So we meet the cousin and it turns out that this is the party another friend of mine in London told me about! It also turns out that we know the same friend from SA Promo, and that he does the video for some of their gigs, while I have done some photography. Small damn world, what are the chances of us two sitting right next to each other, on a little island the size of a relative dot on the globe, on a Saturday night at 21:40, a clear sky evening of the 1^st of August 2009? And his name is Gerhardus. Blows my mind.

We chat about his experiences so far, travelling through Egypt (or, as he put it, the Ass end of the world. I’d have to say I think Dar Es Salaam is the Ass end of the world...), I share a few cool camp sites they should check out since they’ll be heading through Malawi and Zambia. Sadly, he has to go just before 22:00 because they’re leaving early tomorrow. I hope he keeps in touch, Annelie gave him a business card. If not, no worries, I’ll no doubt run into him in London :)

Weird man, weird.

The acrobats were surprisingly good! I grabbed my camera and did what I do best: photographing live shows. They did dome CRAZY shit man! Africans main pride and joy is their physical strength and acumen, and these boys where clearly quite strong and flexible. After the show, one of the guys an albino named Tashatel asks to see me after the show. Later at the bar we exchange details and I offer to send them the banging pics I took of their antics. They call themselves “Kirimanjaro Acrobats”. Very cool, they certainly got the party started as by this point the music was jumping and everybody got down. The whole bar and beach area adjacent to it was filled up. Met these stupid drunk Irish lads and spoke of river rafting the Nile and shared war stories. Good times. Chat more with the brits from Manchester and we had a really good time. Our mission was to find a little life and excitement and we where most successful in this regard.

We eventually track back to our little bungalow by the sea just before 04:00 and pass out. Tomorrow we look forward to doing a whole lotta nothin’.

Island style, baby.

Highlights: Jamming

Grooving

Finding a little slice of heaven. Although the staff is unhelpful and the service terrible.

[G & A], out

Kuwepo saba ninjas ndani hii picha = there are 7 ninjas in this picture

31 July, Day 48: Road piggies

After breakfast Mattie, Annelie and I head out to find a motorbike rental shop. We get lost, of course. This alleys have a way of doing that, it messes with your sense of direction. Even with the map we bought at a bookstore yesterday we can’t figure out where to go. We ask a few guys sitting on a step to a mosque about “scooter”, gesturing in a “vroom-vroom” fashion. One of them instructs us to “come” and starts walking. And walking. And walking. We stop and ask him where he is going and he’s just “come, here, this way”. And keeps going. So we follow.

After more walking we come across what is probably a main road. Lots of traffic in dual carriage way lanes, cutting each other off and not indicating. Next to it is a petrol station and a few shops with parking lots. Our guide takes us to 3 guys sitting casually on some bikes, a hodgepodge of old Vespas, mopeds and a newish looking 125cc Chinese bike. Some quick Swahili before one guy introduces himself as “you rent bike?” I say yes, yes we “rent bike”. Smiles, “$45”. I guffaw! I don’t think I’ve ever “guffawed”, but it was a natural thing and the situation warranted a hearty guffaw. I say no no, I didn’t want to buy the bike, I wanted to rent it. He pretends that he misunderstood and that we meant that we wanted to rent a 4x4, gesturing to the busted Suzuki standing off to the right. I re-iterate that we want Vespas, and the price is $20. He agrees. Problem is, there only seems to be one Vespa. Mattie wants to rent the newish looking 125cc, but they say no because it doesn’t have any registration tags (we can’t tell the difference). Meanwhile, one guy gets on the Vespa and drives off. I ask what that’s all about and the other guy says he’s going to fetch another scooter, just wait.

Guy comes back with a scrambler instead. Mattie approves.

Annelie produces the international driving licenses (we went through HELL to organise these, so it’s about time we really use them. Thanks mom :) xx) and fills in what looks like a contract form. All the dates are from 2007, and there are a few rather interesting clauses in there which my wife changes and alters with impunity.

In the meantime, the Vespa dude and I head over the busy main road to the dusty parking lot on the other side for a tutorial.

Anecdote: I’ve never driven (ridden??) a Vespa before. And they seem to come in manual transmission only.

For the uninitiated (like myself), here’s the layout:

Left lever on left handle (what should be a brake lever on a bicycle) is the clutch

The left throttle is marked off from 1 -4 with a little dot marked as neutral

The right handle bar has the throttle and front brake (front brake doesn’t work on this, er, “particular model”... this is not by design...)

On the deck of the scooter, by your right foot is a brake pedal (which works. Which is nice.)

The heads up panel has a speedometer and a fuel gauge (which I later discovered doesn’t work either. And then all of a sudden, it does, and it indicates that it’s Tuesday. Which it wasn’t. Not very helpful for a fuel gauge.)

The rest of the body (including that of my own) was in remarkably good shape (that’s cus I work out)

So the action would be to step on the brake, clutch-and-twist into “dot” and kick start this piggy (the “start” button didn’t work. Just like on a Windows PC). I follow these instructions. I fail horribly, as the Vespa shoots forward. I guess I didn’t have it in neutral. Try again, and again, finally manage to start the damn thing! W00t!

Now what? Ok, clutch-and-twist to “1”, slowly release clutch and throttle slowly. I clutch and twist and nearly rip my head of as the little pocket rocket jumps forward before stalling. Twist-and-dot, kick start, twist-and-turn-to-DOT and kick start, try again (this is looking bad) and third time lucky. Ok, twist-and-1^st, pole-pole, POLE-POLE!... haha! We have movement! Very jerkily, the rental and I shoot off into the park lot, legs spread eagle and what must have been a really surprised look on my face. I regain my composure and put my legs into a seated position. Dude, I’m like totally riding a Vespa... so, how do I stop again?? Try the right brake, no dice. Thought I’d try it again just to be sure. Didn’t work the second time either. Step on the brake, bad idea, I’m still in 1^st. Bike sputters and bitches to a stall. At this stage, most of the parking lot was my own, since every pedestrian in a 50 meter radius wisely left the area. That list includes my instructor.

Twist-and-dot, kick that piggy, starts! Twist-and-one, pole-pole, gas the throttle, jerk forward (but less so), head off back to the instructor spread eagle legs finding a home on the floor board. Clutch in slowly, pull front brake (old habits die hard), forget that, step on the brake pedal, come to a stop... eventually. That concludes today’s tutorial.

Yikes.

Now it’s my turn to drive over the busy main road, cars and bikes flicking this way and that. I wish I could say I did so gracefully, but I do eventually pluck up enough courage to make it across. (why did the chicken cross the road?)

There’s a gas station right here and Mattie is already busy filling up the monster scrambler. I go over to Annelie to sign the form, hand over $20 deposit per bike (down from $100 per bike. Never try to out negotiate my wife) and we get a helmet for her. Which I believe is the same kind used for horse riding. My own helmet is the instructors’, and it’s not in any better shape.

Back to the fuel station and the Vespa (who I have now christened “Betty”) is good to go. The instructor asks me when will I bring it back. I reply casually tomorrow morning, 10:00 (it was about 09:45, and we have the bikes for 24 hours). He gets a look on his face of a man that’s walking home tonight. Something fell neatly into place at this point: this wasn’t a rental company. These where these guys very own personal modes of transportation. HA! That’s probably why they wouldn’t let us rent the new 125cc, since it’s owner probably didn’t want some knuckle head tourist trashing his pride and joy. Heh heh heh.

So now comes the hard part: where the hell was our hotel?? Annelie jumps on the back and I realise that I struggle to keep myself upright on this thing, never mind a passenger. She asks if I’m ok and I reply in all the macho I can muster “of course, woman!”. Twist-and-sot, kick, start, pole-pole, really pole-pole as the scrambler and Vespa meanders into the tight alleys and corridors of Stone Town, honking at pedestrians and other Vespas as we go. We get horribly lost and hit at least one dead end but we kind of make it there. By this stage I’ve got the clutch control kind of down. Early morning but it’s already sweltering! We go upstairs and grab our stuff, but not before spending 10 minutes under the sweet aircon in the room. Back downstairs, Marietta is not impressed. It takes some convincing to get her onto the scrambler, but Mattie eventually manages.

I locked the Vespa when I parked it and can’t get it unlocked! After struggling for about 2 minutes the hotel manger (who was standing outside with an amused look on his face) comes over and offers some help. He removes the key from the storage box in the front and places it into the ignition, switches it on and unlocks the steering.

Doh.

He asks us with a worried look if we have international driving licenses. We reply of course we do! We’re men! I think he was really concerned we won’t be back to pay for our rooms.

Twist-and-dot, kick, jump forward, damnit, twist-and-DOTDamnYou, kick, start, horse riding helmet on and I ease Betty into 1^st. No sweat. Only, I was.

Back into the busy, dark corridors and alleys, wires sticking out overhead, trash in corners. Turn into another dead end, lot’s of Muslim men screaming at us (oops), twist-and-dot, reverse (I make little “beep-beeep-beeep”-ing sounds in my head), double back and head down another street, honk honk! Crazy white boys with bikes coming down the road, get out of the way! We come across a market that reeks of fish guts, spot a 1.5 meter reef shark lying on the pavement (charming), inch our way through traffic (people, carts, Vespas mostly). Then the Vespa dies. Twist-and-dot, kick. Nada. Kick. Nothing. KIIIIICK... dead. Crap. People everywhere looking at us, scrambler idling behind me. KICK!!!

Mmmm, now what? Put the bike on the kick stand and try a few more time. A local finally releases me from my limbo and offers help. Takes the key, opens the seat compartment, checks if there’s fuel in the bike. He is genuinely surprised to find the tank full. He seems to approve. He gets on the bike, takes it off the kickstand and leans is all the way left. Then all the way right, and left again. Aaaaah. “I’ve flooded it, haven’t I?”. Man nods. Kicks, sputters, kicks again and Betty springs back to life. Betty chugs out a ton of smoke. I thank the stranger, in the most macho way I can. Recompose, no pressure, I now have to pull away without stalling in from of everyone. I do so beautifully. Well, it was very beautiful in my head.

On with the show! We eventually reach the main road where we “rented” the bikes. That map Annelie and I bought a few days ago comes in handy since Mattie’s GPS seems to be useless in this place. We agreed that we want to take the road south to Kizimkazi, head up the east coast and cut back through the middle to Stone Town. Speaking to a rental guy yesterday he reckoned it would take all day to do the whole island, so we’re only doing half. We want to also check out the resorts down there to determine which one we’ll move to tomorrow.

Back into this mad traffic, Annelie repeating “oh shit, oh shit, oh shit” like some sacred mantra in my ears. Betty roars onto the madness and I even indicate “left” as I turn “left” into the junction that should bring us to the southern road. At this stage, I’ve even discovered 2^nd gear and we manage a whopping 40 km/h. We make a wrong turn and stop, inspect the map. A local asks us where we wanna be, we say south, he says we must head the other direction and hands us his business card for tours. It’s during this turn around action that we lose Mattie and Marietta somewhere. We decide to carry on, maybe they’re ahead of us (they weren’t, we later realised). I was also seriously getting the hang of this and kick it into 3^rd gear. Still going 40 though, traffic is thick, but Betty sounds more content in 3^rd. Before long we clear the city and head into the centre of the island. Very beautiful here, lots of trees line the streets. We pass a few farms and forests, the National park on the island (LOTS of colobus monkeys), a Butterfly farm where we stop to ask for directions and many lush, almost overgrown pastures. The landscape changes to predominantly palm and banana trees as we approach the ocean.

We have to go off road just a bit to reach our first stop, Karamba. Betty doesn’t do off-road, and she almost kicks out from under us. Pole-Pole. Very nice place, it has its own private beach, big bar area, hammocks in the trees and (I’m getting tired of mentioning this) turquoise, clear-as-tap-water ocean lapping gently on white sandy beach. PS: I say sand, but it’s of such a fine texture you could make baby powder from it.

Anecdote: yes, it’s good to be the king.

We ask about pricing and availability before heading off again. I’ve 1^st down now and deftly swing Betty around and nurse her over the loose sand before collecting Annelie (who looks friggin’ ridiculous with the horse riding helmet).

Our next stop is a place called the Swahili beach resort. After shaking the papasi we picked up outside the gate we move to reception. Very nice, upper class joint, huge rooms with sea views, but no beach really as the water is high tide and breaks right onto the break wall in front of the hotel. Big pool though. We bargain down the prices of the various rooms, as we do. Hop on Betty onto the next place, La Madrugada Beach resort, owned and run by a very elderly looking Spaniard and his very young looking Taiwanese wife. Also a nice place, big pool, bar, aircon, etc. Price is right, since they “like South Africans”. We SMS Mattie with our location and agree to meet back a few km’s at a junction to our next pitstop, hopefully we can get some lunch too.

At the junction, in the searing heat I hop off the little Vespa that could and give Annelie a rundown of how to drive it. Being much shorter that I, she has a wonderfully difficult time kick starting the bike, even with all her weight on the lever. I step her trough the clutch-and-twist thing, the brake and so on, before kick starting it for her. Lots of false starts and she goes through the motions of learning the sweet spot for the clutch and getting the coordination down. I video the entire process, of course, in between laughter. Eventually she gets the bike going and I run next to her like a dad with his 5 year old daughter learning to ride her first bike. Now comes the hard part: stopping. She too pulls the right brake lever before remembering about the brake pedal and stops abruptly. Annelie laughs her ass off. Once she’s recovered we try again, I kick start the bike and she pulls off jerkily again and keeps going, screaming all the way (screams of joy, of course). I think she even managed 2^nd gear. By this time Mattie joins us, Marietta clinging onto him for dear life. Apparently the scrambler keeps dying on them when they stop and won’t kick start again, so they were having a hard time. Now regrouped, we head off to another place, Coral Rock. The most fantastical view we’ve seen so far, Coral’s bar area is all open windows and see through plastic. Nothing but turquoise fills your peripheral, it’s like being at the IMAX. We stop and have some chow, King Fish, fresh and delicious! Wash it down with a Savannah (drinking and driving, tut tut). Mattie and co checks out the rooms, seems like they’re happy with the place and book in for tomorrow. We say we’ll keep looking.

PS: I’m very comfortable riding Betty by this stage and we hit 60 on average, with 80 on the long stretches. 80 Km/h seems to be the top end of Betty’s ability. The speedo is marked off to 120, but I think this is very generous. Maybe on the day she rolled out of the factory, on a 30 degree downhill slop, driven by a bulimic 40KG horse jockey, with a gentle 50 km/h backwind she may have managed that speed. I do manage to coax her to 87 at some stage, but downhill, and with a gentle backwind. It also dawned on me, sometime during the day, what will happen if we came off the bike? There is NO ONE around. And then I thought, what are my travel insurance details? Who do I phone? And did Mattie pack his Epipen, for in case he gets stung by a bee? (Answer: no).

I digress. After lunch we’re back on the bikes heading in separate directions. Annelie and I check out one more fancy 5 star hotel, don’t even remember the name but it was fully booked anyways. Full of pensioners and young kids, meh. Our last attempt to view more resorts hits a brick wall, literally. The road on our map is cut off by a very high, very unpleasant looking fortification. We are forced to turn around and double back, to the main road. We try and get to more resorts but eventually end up at the gates of a very large private residence. It’s getting late and we still need to ride all the way back to Stone Town so we go for it. We need to cut through forest and little houses to get back to road, lots of little dead ends too (I ask Annelie more than once “where the fuck are we??”).

Betty doesn’t DO OFFROAD!

I nurse the protesting Vespa back to glorious asphalt and we head north a bit before cutting west across the middle of the island. Very scenic drive again, lots of trees and green to enjoy. Pass a few traffic stops, smile and wave. We fill the petrol tank with another litre of gas, just to be safe (fuel gauge reckons it’s 15 minutes past Winchester cheese).

A few kilos out of town I stop the bike and hand it over to Annelie. We go through the motions again, laughing our asses off. She eventually kinda gets the hang of clutch again and I hop on the back. What’s the worst that can happen? She JERKS us into motion, hesitates half a second and gives it horns! Away we go, into 2^nd and even 3^rd gear. Annelie squeals in delight! I hang on for dear life. Once I relax a bit, and get blood running back to my hands I get the camera out and snap some pics and video. Pretty cool :)

Once the traffic starts to thicken again as we reach town we swop since I’m more comfortable with both traffic (cycling in London is hectic!) and with handling Betty. We get lost and have to ask for directions a few times but we reach a road that looks familiar. I comment that this is the road with the taxi ranks. I didn’t want to drive the road with the taxi ranks. And whad’ya know, here’s the gas station and the spot where we rented the bikes! The scrambler is there already and we ease Betty into the spot next to it. It was a sad goodbye, I really enjoyed that. We hand over the keys and receive our $20 deposit. It’s almost sunset so we make our way to Mercury’s to enjoy it. Breath taking yellows and reds splash the entire landscape of clear water and boats. After the show we head back to the hotel for some brandewyn and coke (we have a fridge in the room, awesomeness). Meet up with Marietta and Mattie and head back down to Mercury’s for dinner at around 19:00. Had the baked onion soup (onion sound, covered with bread and cheese and grilled) and more King fish (not as nice as Coral Rock).

After dinner Annelie and I head to Livingstone’s for some drinks. They have a live band here tonight and they’re very good. Lots of people around, everyone having a good time. And as luck would have it, Annelie runs into an old friend from her university days at Stellenbosch. They make chit chat and catch up, I can’t be asked and get another drink and observe the crowd. Lots of interesting characters out tonight. Lots of white, rhythm deprived tourists trying to dance to African music. Lots of Africans moving like jellyfish to the phat beats.

Tomorrow we need to pack up and head to another place. Annelie mentioned that since it was the weekend we should really try and find a more happening spot and that the south is too chilled. The north beaches are renowned for their wild beach parties. So that’s what we’ll do. Same game as before, we’ll park off with the huge bags at one place and she can go and find us lodgings.

Few more drinks later we stumble back to the Asmimi hotel, again through very dark and gloomy alley ways, shaking off papasi. We wake up the guard to open the door for us (some guard) and get to our room around 02:00.

It was a good day. I dream of Betty.

Highlights: Touring one half of Zanzibar!

Learning how to drive (ride?) a scooter

Wearing my Ray-bans, because catching a kamikaze bug at 80 km/h with your face isn’t as fun as it sounds.

[G & A], out

It’s always better when we’re together

30 July, Day 47: Stone town

The first thing we do is to get some breakfast going and pack up the tents. The taxi picks us up at 08:20 only. The driver does manage to squeeze four people’s luggage into his car (no mean feat). Back across the ferry, driving on the sidewalk for some whiles, as taxis do.

This time we are quite prepared for the papasi when we arrive at the Zanzibar ferry offices. They still don’t take no for an answer and tempers flare. We are lead into the Sea Star’s offices behind a gate and manage to buy tickets. Having some time to kill, Mattie and I venture out to try and exchange some Kenyan Shillings to Tanzanian shillings. Would you believe that NO bank (and we tried several) would do the exchange?? Even when the counter is clearly marked “beraue de change”? We do eventually locate a small shop that would exchange the currency and complain about all the banks.

Back at the offices in time for boarding. We cast off just before 12:00 and make our 2 hour journey to Zanzibar.

Finally, at around 14:30 we dock in Stone Town. Customs and immigration (I thought Zanzibar was part of Tanzania??) is a joke, but we go through the paces. By 15:00 we’re roaming the streets. Lots of activity around a park area. Turns out we arrived on the official opening of the newly rehabilitated (????) Park. Lots of people and security and official convoys (which almost succeed in running me over. Twice). Walk past Mercury’s on the right, named after Freddie Mercury since he was born and raised on the island. Think his family moved to India and then Britain after that. Very nice place, right on the beach and overlooking the ferry docks, lots of dhow’s and other boats in the water. The water itself is stunning, just light blues and turquoise with white sands, palm trees everywhere. Everything you imagine a tropical island to be, basically :)

The strategy is to locate a hotel and we aim for the Clove hotel first. No luck, it’s full. So instead of lugging these heavy bags around town looking for rooms we take a breather at a restaurant across the hotel and have some lunch. Mattie and Annelie head off in two different directions to find us lodgings while Marietta and I stay with the bags. They eventually return with their findings and after some deliberation we decide on a new place called the Asmimi hotel. Winding through small corridors and old, multi-storey buildings we kind of make our way there with all our gear.

Checkin, shower, relax! What a mission. Not really, it’s just that it’s so damn hot! Good thing the room has aircon.

About Stone Town: it’s a weird place. Many, many many alleys and tight spots winding into each other, lots of activity in the form of people, beggars, scooters, bikes, little Muslim kids returning or going to mosque, prayer calls, the smell of garbage and fish, tourists, papasi, a few cars and taxis, rental shops, more markets. Beyond the din of people is the ocean with it’s perfect colour and fishing boats etc. I’m failing to see its charm though. Many folks we spoke to mentioned that it’s their favourite part of Zanzibar. So far, it’s a ghetto, dotted with upscale 4 and 5 star bars and restaurants where the locals can NEVER afford to go. I’m weird like that, but it feels a bit... wrong. Not unsafe, just, I dunno. Maybe I was expecting something else. It’s early days, it could grow on me.

Before dinner Annelie and I explore some more and have ice cream and one Italian place. Kids playing soccer on the beach, sunset spoiling us rotten. We also find out about motorbike rentals, $20 pp, per day. On the way back we happen past many top, top hotels including Africa House. I pass the manager’s office which was open and call Annelie over. There, on the lady’s desk is a tiny little colobus monkey playing with papers and jumping from table to chair. Annelie effectively melts. After intros (the monkey’s name is Lady) Annelie and the monkey play a bit while we make chit chat with the manager. She happens to be South African also, married to a local man (which I guess was the guy sitting in the office behind her. I have to drag Annelie away from Lady before making our way back to Asmimi.

Had dinner at Livingstone’s, RIGHT on the beach. We where there earlier but now 2 ferries seemed to have docked there (no, there isn’t a slipway) and a big road grader (those massive road working vehicles) is beached in the sand. More trucks are unloading from the ferry and they charge at great speed up the hill, some even make it. So it was dinner and a show! The managed to dislodge the grader at one point, only to discover they don’t have fuel left to even start the thing. Heh heh heh, crazy Zanzibarians. All the drama was over by the time we finish our meal. I had the crab, by the way. I needed a manual to eat the damn thing. I think I may have wasted good crab.

Highlights: Zanzibar! Although Stone Town hasn’t charmed me yet.

[G & A], out

Poa kichizi kama ndizi = cool like a green banana

29 July, Day 46: Wild wild East

Annelie and I spent the evening after dinner till well into 01:00 repacking a bag for Zanzibar. We settled on one of the big luggage bags and one bag with my camera gear. We started off a bit late though, 09:00, about an hour late. No matter, good road and good weather. I realise now that I was right about Tanga, it’s quite a beautiful city. And most of the way we drove to the hotel is actually next to the ocean. So very scenic views on the way out.

The road to Dar was very packed with all manner of trucks again. Annelie was driving and she did me proud, she managed to duck and weave our way through all the chaos with determination and gusto of an F1 driver. We reach the city just after 13:30. And then full stop, as we enter gridlock. The route into the city we took also runs past a big mutatu rank, so a great many busses and taxis are pushing into the stream from the right. The GPS eventually guides us to were the ferries should be, but so much chaos! We decide to go back around the block and park to find out what the deal is, while Marietta and Annelie wait with the cars.

I read about the papasi in the lonely planet a few days ago. I think it’s quite a coincidence that “papasi” sounds almost like “paparazzi”. Papasi means “tick” in Swahili. Mattie and I are swamped by at least 15 people all talking at once! In all the noise it’s very hard to figure out where we need to go or what to believe, as each of these guys want to lead us off into another “office” where we can “get all the information”. Sheesh. And in-between this I need to calm Mattie down, before he rips someone’s head off. They certainly are persistent. Eventually after some run around to one papasi “office” (which we didn’t enter since it looked like a cave) we turned back to what seemed like the main offices (at least they have signage!!). Lots of frustration from the papasi, “we don’t trust them”, “this is not South Africa” and just getting very aggressive. Man, even the fucking guy in the official office instructs us to come in and “wait, just wait” while he phones someone. Again, ALL we wanted was freaking information!! And this guy was clearly phoning a friend for some kind of commission. We manage to just talk to a new girl as she arrives at the office (not knowing why we are here) and she spills the beans. The other dude says something to her in Swahili afterwards, which I didn’t understand, but the gist was that she spoiled his business opportunity.

Off to another office to find out what it will cost to take the cars over. Too expensive, and they can only accommodate us on Friday. No good. It’s 15:20 already. Back to the cars, meet with the girls (more papasi trail us). Another guy wants to take us to a campsite and then sell us ferry tickets for tomorrow and he’ll bring us back here and and and. Annelie runs off into one direction (without telling me... grrrr.) and finds out about storing the 4x4’s in a hotel parking lot. In the end we call it a day, since we still need to find a safe place for the cars and we’re tired and it’s late. We aim the GPS for the Makadi campsite, which one of the papasi mentioned before (but we know how to find it, so we don’t need his help). We drive a few blocks down to another ferry since the camp is on the other side of the bay.

By 16:30 we roll into the camp and it’s a small oasis compared to what we got stuck in. It’s also still so hot and humid. The camp is situated right next to the beach, little bandas perched on the beach. We take a time out and take a swim to cool down first in the sea and rinse in the pool. Setup our tents just beyond the bandas. There are quite a few overlander trucks here (about 8). We organise that we can leave our cars here, for 2000 TSH per day and get a taxi for tomorrow at 08:00 so that we can get back in time, over the ferry, to the ferry to Zanzibar at 11:00.

Have another braai to rid ourselves of the last bits of meat we have in the fridge, since we’re switching them off while we’re on the island. We left the tent cover off tonight so that we can lay on the stretchers and look at the stars.

In the end I think it worked out ok, since come to think of it we would have arrived in Zanzibar at around 18:00 had we taken the 16:00 ferry. So it would have been dark already and we don’t have any hotels booked. And now we are quite pleased with a nice camp where the cars are safe. We still have about 7 days in paradise, so one less day isn’t a train smash! :)

Highlights: Knowing when to call it quits and not forcing something that wasn’t to be

[G & A], out

What am I supposed to do?

28 July, Day 45: The Sunshine Chill

Oversleep a tad, but we’re at the breakfast table by 08:00. Basic affair of 2 eggs and toast, coffee. Charles, our waiter is very friendly. We pack up and get going, it’s another 250 km’s to the coast. Many trucks on the road already, but it seems more civilised today. Lots of wildlife too, Dik Dik, little antelope, baboons climbing up Baobab.

Spot the railway track that runs from Kenya to Mombasa and later we race the Rift Valley Rail train to our destination. It’s apparently a very touristy thing to do to take the train between the two cities, so lots of white tourist hanging out of 1^st class windows. Our fuel light comes on. So does Mattie’s. That’s a first...

Arrive in the fringes of Mombasa just after 12:00. It’s everything you’d expect from an industrial, port city. Just multiply that expectation by a factor of 2. Chaos, people, busses, people, trucks, bigger trucks. We meander along the road, doing our best not to be crushed under the freight. We spot the first turquoise green of the Indian ocean as we head nearer to the centre of town. Here it’s a little bit more tame, resembling a busy main road like Goodwood or Parow. Matatu’s (taxis. Called Daladala’s in Tanzania and other places) cut through traffic with their usual lack of concern, little three wheel motorbike taxis, the kind you’d associate with say Indian cities cut through in-between the Matte’s. Mosques call out for prayers (very beautiful Mosques, I might add).

The GPS directs us to the ferry so that we can cross over. Good thing, since we’d probably not have enough fuel to cross ourselves! We wait in line for the next one before free-wheeling onboard, the GPS unit informs us that we are now 15 meters below sea level. Always wanted to ride in a submarine.

A short whole layer we exit on the other side and dash into the first available fuel station. 130 Litres later and the Bullet is ready to go again. Beautiful here man, warm tropical wind, tall palm trees litter the landscape between wild forests of vegetation, framed by patches of white sand beaches and turquoise green water. Little fishing boats (makoros, hollowed out tree trunks) working up and down the coast. Heading down to the border at Lunga Lunga to cross into Tanzania, but first Mattie would like to check out the beaches here. We struggle down one path what seemed to be a logical way to get there but end up driving into a thick forest broken here and there with huge ring fenced houses. We reach a dead end and must turn back. Further down the road we test the waters again before finally heading down a sign marked road. What we end up doing is a well hidden 4x4 track! This place puts Kakamega to shame, as far as unspoilt dense forest goes. Winding path through canopies of trees, mud slides and rocky patched. All awesome!

The GPS assures us we’re getting close so we continue on. And on. And on. We pass a few hidden villages next to the path. Mattie radios in that he just missed a green Mamba (VERY VERY poisonous snake) crossing the road. They (the Green and Black variety) have a habit of coiling up and nailing you right through your open window. You have 10 minutes to get anti venom. Out here it’s We close our windows.

On and on we go, until the GPS announces that we have reached Beach road. Hang a left into beach road for a while until we come across a build site... and water! We turn right into the area, with the intention to get out and have a look. Lots of labourers around, they stop to look at us. Around the corner comes a white dude. Looks like he could be a surfer or something, torn jeans, longs curly blonde hair, unshaven, but with a big smile. Introduces himself as Robbie. We intro ourselves and mention we just wanted to check out the beach. He’s very helpful and friendly, quite a soft spoken way about him, and he walks us to the shore break.

WoW!!!

WOWOWOW!

Paradise. Can’t really put it any other way. It’s low tide, so the rocks are exposed a bit, making little tidal pools. Beyond that, impossible colours of blue, green and turquoise. We explore the water and rock pools a bit while Mattie and Robbie walk around the corner to a small cove. I’m not even going to try and describe the raw beauty of this place. It’s pretty much like that movie “The Beach”: wild, untamed and stunning.

Robbie’s story: German born, 32 years old, worked everywhere in Egypt and other African countries. Married to a Kenyan woman, named Supreme’ just last month. They met in Egypt, where he was an entertainment coordinator. Tried getting Supreme’ a visa for Germany, declined, come over to Kenya instead. 6 Months ago he broke ground here, building a lodge and beach bar, with some help from his folks. Their quarters is the semi finished building with the large water tower, the labourers also live on site as well in a hut on the beach, as well as few fishermen nearby. The fishermen supply them with fresh and cheap fish, octopus, you name it. Good resource for his restaurant one day. Work is slow, not up to German standards, but it’s getting there. He intends to call his beach bar “the Sunset Chill”. Says there is a gap in the market here, there are a great many hotels and lodges up the road but their all for older tourists. And they’re always full, so business is booming. He wants to corner the surfer market.

He invites us for tea and we accept. And this part is really straight out of a movie, or that TV show, shipwrecked. A HUGE Mango wood table right on the beach, under palm trees, with a make shift bbq area and tikihut, We meet his very beautiful wife Supreme’ and they share some maize with us. He comments that when they arrived here in this spot the first thing they did was plant maize, tomatoes, cucumber etc to support them and the workers. Clever boy. Everything grows quickly and wild here. We’re also introduced to a very special little guest, Lucky. A small, must be 3 month old puppy! Annelie is officially in seventh heaven and they spend a lot of time playing. I feed the little girl (the puppy, not Annelie) some corn, and I get licked and bitten in equal parts.

We finish our tea and thank Robbie and Supreme’ for their hospitality. I mention that I’ll be sure to mark his place on Tracks for Africa, so other travellers can locate it and that I hope to come stay at his place one day in the future. We leave Robbie’s place feeling a little sad, like we were leaving good friends.

Back up the 4x4 track, this time with vigour. We join the main road again and blaze on to Lunga Lunga. It’s late again, 16:00 already. We make good time and arrive at the border by 17:45. It’s a first for us to enter and exit a border at this time, and it’s very quiet. So what that means is that everything is checked and double checked. No worries, everything is in order, it just takes time!!

Bye bye Kenya!

Exit into no man’s land, a 6KM drive to enter the Tanzanian border post (weird). Not as much chaos as we’d come to expect, but that’s only because it’s late. Lots of trucks and busses blocking the road though. We do the safety dance through customs and immigration, paying our $25 dollars for the car and road tax (remember that?). We get away with not having to buy another visa, which is pretty sweet.

Out of there by 18:35, and the sun is setting. Shit... here we go again.

Very bad for us is that THIS isn’t tarred road and we now have to drive this pothole ridden dust bowl in the dark, trying to pass trucks and busses kicking up dust which reflects your headlights right back at you. Annelie does the driving while I focus on telling her where people and bikes are (since they don’t have any lights, and she is focused on the right directly in front for potholes). I lose count the amount of times we go airborne. Madness! Also a shame since it was at least clear that we were driving through a particularly beautiful part of Tanzania. But we where way to preoccupied to care.

We manage not to kill ourselves again and reach the city of Tanga just after 20:00. Check in at 3 different hotels and inns, all full or really crap. Settle for the Panori hotel. Like all the other good places here, it was built during the colonial times, and left to their own devices. At least the rooms are cheap, and we are dead tired.

Have dinner, roast chicken with peri-peri and... yeah... chips. Finish up and head to the room, I emptied out the bullet of all our bags and suitcases. We need to reconfigure for Zanzibar and repack. We’ll also be leaving the vehicles somewhere for the next 6 – 7 days, so we need to clear out the perishables from the fridge. The plan is to do breakfast tomorrow at 07:30, and head out as soon as possible after that. We have a good 300 km’s to go to Dar, and the last ferry crosses at 16:00. So we need to get to Dar, find a cool place for the cars, catch a mutatu or taxi to the ferry and hopefully BOARD the thing. All before 16:00.

GPS reckons it’s asphalt all the way. We’re gonna drive the wheels off the Bullet to make it!

Highlights: Not killing ourselves. Again.

[G & A], out

We’ll get there fast and then we’ll take it slow

27 July, Day 44: The race to Mombasa

Back on the road just after 08:00. Heading to Narok, giving one of the Maasai guides a lift. Roads are pretty crap again, even though we’re taking a slightly different route back today. At Narok we break for coffee and chips before heading further. Marieke and Marietta want to check out one of these roadside “guesthouses” we’ve been seeing everywhere so we do so. I sneakily take a little video of the experience. And what an experience! Shame, I shouldn’t joke, but it was pretty grim.

Head back up that mountain pass with the church and the rickety shops. Today it’s filled with suicidal drivers and huge trucks though. Which makes things... interesting.

Arrive in Smelly town again just after lunch time, back at Pat’s after 14:00. Have a quick tea, say our goodbyes to Pat and the others. Load up Annelie and Marietta and head to Karen hospital. Annelie hands in her samples and contact details, hopefully we’ll know in about 3 days what the deal is with Walter (the amoeba). We head out of Karen, past the Shedrik Wildlife trust and on to Mombasa by 15:30. Slow going at first but then we pick up speed. Spot loads and loads of Baobab trees.

Suicidal trucks!! Everywhere. Overtaking other suicidal trucks, carrying massive containers, on blind corners and up hills. More than once we have to take evasive action lest we be crushed. And then we break our number one rule: don’t drive in the dark.

My word. Can’t believe we did that.

We are aiming for the Tsavo inn that’s inside a national park, but we struggle onward between the darkness and killer trucks. One runs Mattie off the road while overtaking another over a hill. The problem here is that even if you stop in time, the two trucks behind you won’t and the collective weight of a few metric tons will crush us in no time flat. Hey, at least it’ll be quick.

But stupid.

We make a call to pull over at the next available Caltex or whatever, even if it’s just to rest for a few minutes. It’s 19:00 already when we pull into a Caltex truck stop, lots of people and parked heavy vehicles. Mattie asks about a good hotel, and the guy recommends the one across the road, the Savoy hotel. We check it out, and it turns out to be the Tsavo Inn!! The place we were looking for. Thank goodness. We check in, order dinner, unload into the rooms and have LOTS of wine and whiskey! We really are dumb!

Dinner was welcome and the beds slept very well. Tomorrow we have some ways to go still before we get to Mombasa, and then on to the border post. We’ll have to see how we get on.

Highlights: Not being killed by crazy trucks.

[G & A], out

Today is a brand new day

26 July, Day 43: Storm chasers

Up at at’em by 05:15 (yaaaaaawn!). Grab coffee, wake up Annelie, pack up everything except the tent and the sleeping gear. Yawn. Amos joins us just before 06:00. He’ll be riding shotgun with Fanie today, Hannelise sitting in the back. Off we go, into the darkness. Arrive at the gate but it’s not technically open yet. Amos has a quick word and we pass into the park with ease, without even having to pay, since there isn’t a cashier yet. We can pay when we leave the camp.

As we drive through the park you can spot silhouettes of various creatures on the horizon, lost of antelope and buffalo. And lost of Maasai cow herds. The deal is that the Maasai are allowed to have their cattle graze in the park from 16:00 till 07:00 in the morning, then they have to leave. That would explain the lots herders edging their cows on to the exit.

As we drive we spot bright flares in the side view mirrors. Way off in the distance the hot air balloons flash bright orange and yellow and they are inflated for the days tour. Spectacular, I’ve never seen a hot air balloon in real life and against this backdrop of the breaking dawn and clouds, level wide open horizon and absolute darkness it is truly an awesome sight. They eventually take flight (three of them) and chase us down. The first one passes overhead shortly after we first spotted them. I take a ton of pictures, of course.

We continue on but don’t see much. Amos is taking us to a known leopard area, but no dice. I do my mating call out the window. Still nothing. Amos reckons that if they’re not here this time of the morning, we won’t get to see them so we continue on to where lions are.

Just a quick note here: there aren’t any real roads in the park. Lots of dirt paths but at times you just over the savannah. There are loads of other little paths here and there and lots of other safari operators in Toyota Landcruisers driving around. But other than that it’s wide open spaces, high savannah grass and trees dotted around the landscape. Point is, you really need a guide to show you where to go!

Just before 08:00, true to Amos’s word, we spot a large pride of lions. I counted about 7 females and 1 male. The females caught what looked like a wildebeest and they’re just lazing around and gnawing on bones. The male just walks around them all and flops down, relaxing. He couldn’t’[t give two ticks and none of them pay us or the other Landcruisers any sort of mind. We switch off the motors and just watch them. Satisfied, we eventually move on to where cheetahs are. Sure enough, 20 minutes later we spot one and then another under a tree. Amos says over the CB that these are 2 male cheetahs, brothers, and they will stick together like this for life. It’s so interesting, the call a cheetah makes, sounds exactly like a short, high pitched meow! :) We trail them for a bit before letting them be.

Next up, we are heading to the river, where we hope to see a crossing today as part of the migration. And there they are. Thousands of them! As we drive through the savannah and hills we spot wildebeest flippen everywhere. Congregated in groups as small as 20 to as large as what must be a 1000! Little specks on the far away hills. Zebras here and there, antelopes called Toppies (which are only found in the Mara) standing on anthills and grazing. But mostly wildebeest. We come across a very long line of gnu, all heading in the direction of the river. Looks like we may get what we asked for!

We happen on a wildebeest carcass being attacked by vultures. The carcass seems in good condition still, just a hole in the side from what we can see. And the vultures tearing meat from it, and every other orifice. There must have been at least 14 of them, varying sizes (and I later found out, various species too) squawking, fighting and burying their heads inside the hunk of decaying meat.

Further along (and again, to stress, there are wildebeest everywhere!) we pass more conga lines kilometres long of the animals heading in a neat little line up the hill. A large congregation of buffalo are being harassed by two hyenas. One of the hyenas seem to have injured it’s right rear paw. No doubt if this hyena doesn’t recover he’ll end up lunch for the other before long. Dog eat Dog.

It’s about 08:35 or so when we drive next to one of these huge lines of animals all running flat out to the river! Very exciting, wildebeest, antelope and Zebras kicking up dust and savannah grass. They run across our path to get over the road and we have to be careful not to hit any of them. Not really, since they dodge us very well, some jumping high into the air to clear the road. Quick breakfast break under a tree (far from the high savannah grass. Can’t believe how well a lioness can hide in these things!!). Then we’re off again.

Amos wants to show us the river with its hosts of crocs and hippos, and also points out the various candidate spots where a crossing may occur. Big, fat, lazy crocodiles, averaging 5 meters in length are lazing on the banks and in the rapids, baking in the sun. Seriously, these are the biggest crocodiles I’ve ever seen in my life! The water is quite shallow today, good for animals wanted to cross over, bad for the predators in the water. We drive a bit further down the river, looking back the way we came to see kilometres of wild animal heading this way in a neat little line, just like ants, dust flaring on the flat horizon. It’s a sad state of affairs that modern technology can’t capture the sheer vastness of what we where witnessing! Amos reckons we have some time still, so we drive further down the river. There are already a handful of Landcruisers and safari busses lining the bank in anticipation.

More hippos and crocodiles, one really, really big one on the river back right below us. On the way back to the car we are basically cordoned off by a sea of mammals. They have arrived at the river’s edge. As far as the eye can see back over the hill is an unending stream of more and more of them. Amos instructs us not to drive the vehicles back round just yet; allow the animals to edge closer to the river first. In other words, don’t break their momentum. We wait around for a few more minutes just marvelling at the sight. The animals seem to be testing a spot quite close by us for a potential crossing point. But it proves a bit too steep so they move back a bit before moving further away from us. We get the ok to get back into the cars and drive back to where we came from. We need to basically drive through the line to get to that sweet spot, with the crocodiles. Pole-Pole (almost like saying “polly-polly”, but with a more pronounced “e”. Means slowly slowly). LOTS of other Landcruiser and busses line both sides of the bank. I marvel at the mirror image of all the animals rushing to the river: wildebeest AND humans.

They line has arrived at another potential crossing point, one Amos pointed out earlier. Of course, as all the animals move, the busses and other 4x4’s all do the same, so it’s a bit of a manic atmosphere of tension, apprehension, antici....pation, all under his blazing hot Kenyan sun. The line spends about 20 minutes eying this spot before shuffling back a bit and moving further back up the river. Engines flare up, cars vying for position. Amos instructs us to be patient, and just hang back a bit. They’re going to settle on the first spot he pointed out (with the MASSIVE) crocs.

Sure enough, 10 minutes later there is barely a subtle hint of movement. Amos orders us to drive right, right up to the river bank (a spot right before a big rocky path). We do so and we’re rewarded with 1^st class seats, the “other” cars having to park behind us. Spot on!

We now have a complete view of the line to the right, high on the river bank, with an unobstructed view of the rapids below. The 6 crocodiles that were lazing in the sun are nowhere to be seen. Or rather, they can be seen, once you realise 6 of those rapids below aren’t from rocks. Nobody is allowed to leave the vehicles, Amos orders us to stay put (so don’t even get onto the roof, just yet). Wait till there is a forward momentum, because once the front runners break water, they have one thing on the brain: RUN!

And so the stage is set, an unbelievable amphitheatre. Metric tons of sinew, muscles and horn stretching back beyond all human vision, more arriving by the second charging down the hill, a critical mass building on the precipice of the water. Humans and crocodiles waiting with baited breath. Two steps forward. Three steps back. One big Gnu running back up the line before running OVER the front group, almost looks like he’s trying to inspire movement. More shuffles forward. And more forward, cameras ready, binoculars focused, everybody hushed. Then... nothing.

They retreat 6 more steps, and we are in a holding pattern. More beasts arrive, but much slower than before. I wish I could see an aerial shot of this, a big black ink blot on the landscape with trailing ink running off the canvas. This shuffling motion continues for at least another hour and a half. At least the zebras have arrived and they too now form part of the front line.

Then, almost like there was a collective intake of breath, one lone wildebeest edges forward, shuffles a bit, edges forward again.

It was enough.

A dam bursts, the storm breaks and they plunge into the river! Cameras clicking, excitement all round. My eyes can’t really believe what I’m seeing, just because, well, I never even considered that we’d be this lucky! To see the migration is exceptionally rare. To see it on our very first day in the Mara, statically, is a miracle. Yet here we are, almost like we bought tickets for a show. And not the cheap seats, THE FRONT ROW!

I dash over to Fanie’s bakkie and clamper on the roof. I now have a better vantage point on the kill zone, where the “rapids” lurk. The first line makes it across without incident, but right before they reach the other side there is a dip in the water which they all plunge into before paddling out, regaining their grip and exit. This is where I reckon the crocodiles will strike. I didn’t have to wait long. One stray wildebeest was already tagged, struggling what seemed like the force of the water. Through my lens I spot a triangle shaped mouth latched onto its left flank, it’s owner dragging it under water. More beasts cross, impossible to imagine, but even more arrive and fall in line. My heart is racing in my ears, I still can’t believe what I’m looking at. Everyone is hushed, an occasional “woaw!” escapes from the crowd, followed by a “shhhhh”.

The trapped and struggling wildebeest keeps getting back up, before falling back down, back up and then down and just sits in the water. More and more animals splash into that deadly dip right before the other side, and safety. And then the trapped wildebeest is up! And struggling to the back. It scrambles up a rocky slope, trips and falls a few times, but eventually makes it! Cheers (and “shhhhs”). It looked injured though and I suppose it’ll be lion food later. No matter, on with the show!

Zebras have joined the party now, colouring the featureless black line with dashes of white. The crocodiles in the meantime have repositioned themselves, closer to that deep patch. And while we were focused on the action up front, 3 more have crawled upstream, clearly the smell of blood in the water enticing them. Quicker than you can blink a mighty jaw snaps and locks a zebra in its maw! Screams of agony and shock reverberate off the water from the very surprised zebra. The croc has a good grip on the prey’s left flank again. We think that maybe the little guy still has a chance to escape. That chance is quickly dashed as another great big bag of razor sharp death leisurely opens and clamps down over the zebras nose. They start dragging their victim into the deeper water and submerges its head. The zebra struggles back up but the weight of the two killers drags it back down. Down under the water goes the head. Just in time for a third jaw to lock onto its head. Then a forth, onto its neck. A fifth arrives shortly thereafter and by this time the sixth and seventh are well on their way. No black or white strips are discernable under the weight of dark grey scales, tails and rapids.

No more movement from the kill.

The seven (eight, nine?? Impossible to tell!) begin to tear their meal apart.

First to go are the intestines, one crocodile getting lower guts wraps right around its colossal head, wearing it like a pink ribbon. Chunks for flesh flash out of the water as they grip and roll to tear it loose. Big mouths crest the water and chew gleefully with their mouths open. Hind legs separate from hips. Throat torn out. All of this happens over the course of the next few minutes. No rush here. A hippo (I notice later) is just off to the side, and one more crocodile travelling from upstream runs into it, and attempts to add hippo to the menu. I’ve never seen a croc get smacked down so fast before! And if a croc could whimper and run with its tail between its legs, this was it.

The rest of the line have moved a bit more upstream, away from the kill zone but still going strong. Could you believe that 2 more crocodiles arrived from downstream and they were now moving up into the line’s new crossing point to catch more prey. But they are way too late for this party, most of the animals have crossed. The small group of zebra still left on the right back cease and desist, smelling danger. They will live to cross another day.

Behind us, the plains are barren. Across the river on the hill are thousands upon thousands of little black dots, moving away from us. So too, the other safari operators have started up the engines and in a reverse course start vacating the area. We stick around to watch the crocodiles. I spot a few other things: a few of the smaller crocs (seriously, “small” is very relative in this world. They’re still stupid-huge reptiles!!) who weren’t invited to the buffet have caught a cocky stork right off the bank. Another caught a catfish! A every large catfish (the fish was lured by the smell of blood too. They’re carrion eaters). The zebra has been slowly dismembered by the grip-and-roll manoeuvre of 6 (7,8,9??) crocs working in unison. Fights break out over meat, the current almost carries the catch away, big crocs flow with it. The zebras head briefly bobs above water, so too a pair of legs and a rib cage. The intestine wearing croc retreats with a large hunk of meat. It will probably hide it away for a few days to rot before finishing it off. Charming.

Mattie is smiling like the Cheshire cat and could easily be a poster boy for a Colgate commercial. We still can’t believe our luck and we all commend Amos for a stunning day! Lunch is on the cards, so we head down to the river bank (AWAY from the buffet) and settle in for some tuna sandwiches and coffee. A large pod of hippos are off to the left, but they look fast asleep. They eventually wake to our presence and start calling out (very weird sound!). We finish up our meal and head back to the gate. We go leopard spotting again but nada. See another pride of lions, as well as a loner male lion parking under a tree, breathing heavily in this heat. Spot more Maasai Giraffe, lots of Grant’s Gazelles, Dik Dik’s, all sorts of bird, a few Toppies and elephants. Somewhere Dirk’s GPS warns of a “Wildebeest crossing”. No kidding.

We arrive back at Riverside camp, overpay Amos and reminisce over the incredible event we witnessed today. He collects the money for entry into the park and brings us a receipt. Even better than all of this: we saved two days! So now, we can race to Zanzibar. Awesomeness.

The group will travel to Karen again before heading separate ways. Dirk and Fanie will head to some lake to see the flamingos while Mattie and us will gun for Mombasa. We have a border post to cross back into Tanzania before we can head further to Dark Es Salaam, where we will park the cars, get re-configured and catch a ferry to a tropical paradise.

Highlights: The whole day!

[G & A], out

Cool like a green banana