Wild things

I’ve spent the past two weekends safari-ing through two different national parks. And two national parks more different from each other you could hardly get. The Masai Mara (at least this time of year) is a lush green reserve, teeming with life. Water is abundant, flowing through natural pipes under the surface where not visible to the human eye. At 1,510 km², it is also a (comparatively) small reserve. Tsavo East National Park, on the other hand, is a Goliath. At 11,747 km² it is Kenya’s largest national park. And, in stark contrast to Mara, it is a savannah, a parched, dry, barren landscape, where the predominant colour is reddish-brown. Sources of water – that fundamental harbinger of life – are severely limited, with most of the park’s water having to be pumped in from outside.

But I digress; this entry is not about the parks, but about the creatures that call them home. I share here some miscellaneous observations and new learnings.

THE WILDEBEEST

The wildebeest is a creature whose most renowned feature is its distinct lack of intelligence. I would suggest another, slightly more favorable, feature: reproductive capacity. Yes, wildebeest only have a five-minute memory. Granted, they will cross a river infested with crocodiles, even as their brethren in front are being munched upon (pic included of crocs fighting over wildebeest carcass). Sure, they bear an uncanny resemblance to lemmings – blindly following the one immediately in front, so forming a line kilometers long, investing all hope in the guy ultimately in front. But, despite all these obvious shortcomings, there are literally millions of them! Everywhere! I’d like to say that they dot the Mara landscape like trees, except that that would be generous to the trees. Perhaps recognizing full well that they aren’t going to outwit other creatures in the jungle, the wildebeest have simply decided on quantity versus quality. We’ll just make so damn many of us that there will always be enough around to ensure survival of the species.

THE ZEBRA

While some point out (erroneously) that stand-out black and white stripes don’t seem the smartest bet for a prey animal, the zebra is a cunning creature. All over the Mara, wherever there were a bunch of wildebeest, there were a handful of zebras in their midst (see pic). Why? Zebras know that if a predator attacks then they have more chance of surviving if the predator has a choice between a zebra and a wildebeest.

THE LION

Of all the animals we saw I learnt the most, perhaps, about lions.

The female does all the work. She’s the one that hunts and also rears children. The male is the true epitome of laziness. He lolls about all day and waits to be called to eat by a female once she’s made a kill. Lions can communicate with each other over distances of 2-3 km.

We saw many different aspects of lion life and behavior:

• First we saw some lion porn. I will, of course, go easy on details. A male and female were lying near each other in the grass. After some elementary foreplay the male mounted the female and was done is six quick seconds.

• Later we saw two males. They were literally five metres from our vehicle, lying down, relaxing, half-asleep. During the course of about ten minutes of observation, the most action we saw was the lions rolling over and getting into a more comfortable position.

• Later still we saw two females. They were under the shade of a tree, resting, their bellies obviously satiated. But one of the females spotted two wildebeest about 30 metres away. Her muscles tensed and she assumed the hunting position. Stealthily she made her way towards the wildebeest, who clearly had no idea what was about to hit them. But realizing that her partner continued to rest, the first lioness decided it wasn’t worth the effort. To a resounding groan of protest from a bunch of human voyeurs with blood on their lips, the first lioness sat down. Amazingly, the wildebeest (yes, they are idiotic) proceeded to walk towards the lionesses and literally stroll right past them. The first lioness, perhaps not believing her eyes, watched them all the way. She must have been extremely full, for she still didn’t move.

• Last, but not least, at one point we suddenly saw a giraffe emerge from the thickets, in a gallop. (The gallop itself was a splendid sight, but more on this later.) Why was the giraffe running? Because a lioness was giving chase (albeit half-heartedly). As the lioness too emerged from the thicket a group of gazelles sped in our direction. Both the giraffe and the gazelles stopped and turned to face the lioness when each felt a safe enough distance away. The lioness stopped and looked around at both, but it was clear she had lost the necessary element of surprise to be able to catch either now. Nevertheless, the gazelles proceeded to protest en masse with a series of groans and yelps that lasted about two minutes. Then each creature went its separate way.

The women in our safari troupe were genuinely aghast at these various discoveries – the duration of copulation, the disparity in work-sharing, the seeming subservience of the female and sheer laziness of the male, etc. (I guess they have a point. Perhaps zoologists need to rethink the claim that chimps / orangutans are our closest cousins.) The feminist rhetoric spewed forth. This was surprising, because I don’t see a lioness doing anything that’s not, ultimately, in her own self-interest. Human beings, of course, may no longer be entirely be governed by Dawkins’ selfish gene, but that topic is beyond the scope of this blog.

Nonetheless, I lost a fair bit of respect for the lion.

THE GIRAFFE

The giraffe is nature’s sexiest being. I must admit this observation didn’t come to me organically. But once a friend pointed it out it did strike as true. The long neck, the lissome gait (the giraffe not so much walks but glides across the land), the nibbling versus chomping on food, the posing for cameras – the giraffe is the animal kingdom’s closest thing to a supermodel.

Carnivore

“Make sure you go to Carnivore.” Had I received a penny for every time I’d heard this suggestion I would, well, now have about 11 pennies. Not quite a millionaire, but certainly richer than had I received a penny for each time another specific culinary suggestion was made.

Carnivore, as many readers may be familiar, is the world famous Nairobi eatery renowned for serving unlimited quantities of various meats, including game meats. The ‘unlimited’ still holds true, though ‘various’ would now be a generous adjective, and ‘game’ would be nigh inaccurate. Where once one went to Carnivore to feast on all manner of exotic meat (crocodile, etc), today one would be lucky to be served anything beyond standard fare: chicken, beef, pork, lamb.

The disappearance of exotic meats is one of the reasons why Carnivore has lost its appeal. The other, more important reason, is evolution. As with many other popular tourist destinations, fame has caused Carnivore to sacrifice some of its original character at the altar of standardized glitz and commercialism. When I patronized there for the first time a couple of weeks back I got the distinct feeling that I was walking into just another Planet Hollywood or Hard Rock Café, complete with t-shirt selling souvenir shop.

But this is not to suggest that Carnivore is not worth a visit. If you’re very hungry, in the mood for lots and lots of meat, as well as some variety, then there is probably no better bet. For a little over $20 you can eat to your heart’s content (and accelerate the arrival of your first coronary by a few days). Depending on your luck you could even nibble on something a little unusual, such as Ostrich balls (to be interpreted in the less squeamish of the two interpretations you might be considering).

But if you’re after an authentic Kenyan meat-eating experience, then don’t drive past your typical highway-side nyama choma stand.

The Great Rift Valley II: The Sounds of Life on Earth

Astrid and Erick, a French couple aged (by my estimates) in their ‘50s, manage a 25-acre plot of land in Subukia, which is a place in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the planet. I know it’s in the middle of nowhere because I’ve been there. I know it’s in the middle of the planet because we crossed the equator five times in the last couple of kilometers leading to their property.

[Astrid’s English is stronger than Erick’s, though his is not bad either. On occasion he struggles for a word, but only ever so momentarily, before simply replacing the offending word with a whistle and proceeding. We wondered, for instance, whether we could mountain bike up to the view point. “You can,” he said, “but it’s dangerous, you know, because the matatus they come like this and then they… [whistle]… and you might get… [whistle].”]

On this property, this couple has built half-a-dozen traditional bandas, dug a man-made lake and introduced a range of farm animals to complement the few wild animals that already exist. It really is a veritable animal farm, complete with horses, cows, dogs (both of the playful-docile and vicious-guard variety), chicken, sheep, black monkeys, white colobus, and various species of insect, bird and fish. On the lake sits a cozy little restaurant where head chef Charles prepares an array of delicious, gourmet-standard dishes. While eating, if you’re lucky, you can spot a river otter hunt for fish.

This is a wonderful place to get away from it all for a few days.

The experience that lingers most is hearing the sounds of life on earth. When you’re in the middle of nowhere you can hear these sounds around the clock: crickets chirping, creeks rolling, birds squawking, insects buzzing, cows mooing, sheep bleating, and roosters cock-a-doodling. You can even ‘hear’ a fresh breeze. It’s an orchestra of nature that stands in stark contrast to the sounds of life in the urban metropolises – cars honking, phones ringing, engines revving and televisions blaring – that have largely informed my life to date.

Living in urban centres one, of course, takes a lot of things for granted. Like electricity. Then Erick explained how he got electricity for this property. Upon request to the local authorities he was quoted 8m Kenyan Shillings. He refused and as he walked away the price fell to 2m KES. He continued walking and instead installed a series of solar panels. For $0.5m KES he was able to put it all in place and do a great deal of good for the environment.

The Great Rift Valley I: Climbing Mt. Longonot

The Great Rift Valley is a continuous geographic trough, some 6,000km long running from northern Syria all the way down to central Mozambique. Cutting a swathe through Kenya it is a visually stunning naturescape. There are numerous vantage points from which one can appreciate the majesty of the valley, and I’ve checked-out a few. Today, I introduce you to the first: Mt. Longonot.

Peaking at 2,780m above sea level, Mt. Longonot is a fairly easy climb (i.e. one doesn’t have to be an experienced mountaineer) though at the same time a very thorough workout. It’s a workout in two. Part one involves climbing to the top of the mountain, which can take 45-90 minutes depending on level of fitness. Part two, not so common, then involves walking around the top of the mountain. For, you see, Mt. Longonot is a dormant volcano, so by ‘top’ I really mean the edge of rim, which surrounds a giant hollow. The walk around the rim, heavily arduous at times and rather precarious throughout, can take up to three hours itself. So the whole hike = 5-6 hours, 8-9km.

The volcano is thought to have last erupted in the 1860s – not so long ago at all. Today the crater floor is covered with a forest of small trees. Once or twice I thought a small fire was starting somewhere down there, but the old adage proved untrue: where there’s smoke sometimes there’s a small steam vent.

Here are some random things I learnt during the climb:

1. There’s a chance of running into an unfriendly predator most anywhere in Kenya. As we made our way up the mountain, and then around its rim, we intermittently had to sidesteps mounds of poop. I kept wondering (worrying?): ‘What the hell is up here?’ The mountain, it turns out, is home to various species of wildlife (though we didn’t see any on our trip), notably zebra and giraffe and buffaloes. Surprisingly it’s buffalo poop that dots the top of the rim! Of course, where there are herbivores there are… Leopards are known to roam the area, though thankfully we encountered none.

2. Climbing mountains feels awesome… AFTER you’re done! It can be a hateful experience during. I’ve experienced it previously and yet the feeling of exhilaration post-conquest keeps me going back for more. I’m now seriously considering a jaunt up Kili, but let’s see…

3. Maybe tourist destinations should charge locals more. Kenya, like many countries, charges foreigners significantly more than locals to visit certain popular tourist destinations. At Longonot I paid $20, while my local friend paid $2. Some places in India have a similar price discrimination policy. But my experience in India – and now in Kenya – is that generally it’s the locals that treat the natural beauty with disrespect. In Ladakh, India, for instance, we found locals throwing all manner of rubbish out of car windows onto beautiful snow-capped peaks and valleys. At Longonot, too, local climbers left rubbish – chip packets, water bottles, etc – strewn haphazardly, while foreign visitors not only held on until discovery of a bin, but even picked-up after locals. Now, I am being partially facetious, of course. I appreciate the economic argument for this price discrimination. But episodes such as this make you wonder about the merits of reverse discrimination.

4. Climbing a mountain is tough enough, but when you marry a mountain with a beach, it is even harder. More than half the full trek is on very sandy turf, approximating beach conditions. And since large stretches have no prescribed path, the sand tends to make its way into, amongst other places, your shoes, socks, mouth, nose, ears and eyes. This is an unnecessary additional challenge to an already tough climb.

As you walk around the top you get splendid views not only of the enormous crater that sits below your feet, but also of the magnificent Great Rift Valley. The air is fresh and the winter sun just perfect. Standing there you look around and know that not much has really changed for thousands of years. The same landscape that greeted a climber 10,000 years ago and a climber 10 years ago, also greets me today. The only difference, I guess, is that whereas past climbers had to go back down to tell their friends about it, today the top of Mt. Longonot (like all of Kenya and pretty much most parts of the world) offers 5 bars on one’s cell phone.

National parks in East Africa: Veblen goods?

At a lunch today I got the chance to listen to a short talk from the head of the Kenya Wildlife Service (KWS). Dr. Julius Kipng'etich joined KWS in 2005 and has transformed the parastatal into a serious business outfit. In a bid to ensure world class parks, Kip has greatly improved management while giving conservation a strong scientific approach. As recognition of his achievements, Kip was the winner of the acclaimed CEO of the Year Award, COYA 2009.

Kip made a couple of interesting points in his speech that I’d like to reiterate here. He noted that, historically, wildlife parks tended to price too low. This did not allow them to become self-sustainable nor earn the revenue needed to build high quality infrastructure and invest in ecological conservation. In recent years this has changed. In Rwanda they started by charging some $50 to see the mountain gorillas. They then upped the price to $100 and were surprised to see demand increase. Incrementally they increased the price to $150, then $200… today it costs $500 to spend one hour in close proximity to these rare mountain gorillas. And demand is higher than ever. You sometimes have to book weeks, if not months in advance.

Similarly, Kip increased entry prices across the board for Kenya’s various wildlife parks. Today it costs a foreigner some $60 per day just to enter some of Kenya’s better parks, a 300% increase from a couple of years back. Prices for locals have increased as well. And KWS revenues are at their highest ever since independence. When prices were much lower, he noted, the local middle class rarely went.

Which raises an interesting research angle: are national parks that are home to rare animals Veblen goods? And, if so, why? Is it a status effect? A signal of quality?

I would ask my friends well-versed in economics to weigh-in here. Wikipedia defines a Veblen good as one for which “peoples' preference for buying them increases as a direct function of their price” but makes no prediction for “what will happen to actual quantity of goods demanded”. So maybe this isn’t a Veblen good. I don’t think it’s Giffen either is it?

Farewell Sitaram Rao

Every so often a person comes along that epitomizes all that is good about humankind. Sitaram Rao was just such a man, and we are worse for his loss.

Sitaram was a tireless champion for solutions to the challenges associated with poverty. He strove, always with full sincerity and all his might for the betterment of others, never seeking even an iota of glory or recognition. Indeed, he would be embarrassed when an organization offered just a bouquet of flowers as a note of thanks. That Sitaram was seen variously as a father figure, a mentor, a guide, a friend and a thought partner by legions of microfinance practitioners across India (and possibly beyond) is the truest testament to his contribution. We once estimated that he spent on average 25 days per month on the road, visiting the ‘field’, always teaching, but also, always learning.

He was the humblest of men. He could very easily have made millions. But he chose other paths; paths where he felt he could have greatest impact. As another said: “Sitaram Rao was the rock upon which today’s vibrant Indian microfinance industry was built. Through the years, you would not find him in the media spotlight; rather he was the common thread behind the scenes.”

He was a father figure to Unitus in India. Without him the organization would certainly not be where it is today. From the time I met him on my second day on the job, he was also a guide to me personally. The first person I would invariably call to discuss a new idea or get opinions on an organization would be Sitaram Rao. His opinion was respected by one and all.

Rest in peace, good sir. You’ve more than done your share. We will do our best to carry on all your great work.

You can read more at: http://www.microfinancefocus.com/news/?p=167.

Tributes by current and former Unitus employees can be read at: http://unitus.com/news-and-information/latest-updates/features/unitus-mourns-the-loss-of-sitaram-rao/unitus-mourns-loss-of-sitaram-rau.

The enigma that is Nairobi

It started well before I even set foot in this country. Indeed, as soon as I told people that I’ll be in Nairobi for the summer, the hushed warnings began. “Be careful,” I was repeatedly warned. “Don’t go out at night.” “It’s as bad as Johannesburg.” The guide books and travel websites agreed. Per the Lonely Planet: “Nairobi is Kenya’s biggest and baddest city… Most visitors dive in and out in the shortest time possible.”

A schoolmate from the year above, who had spent the previous summer in Nairobi, also didn’t do much to assuage my anxiety levels. He recounted (with what seemed, strangely enough, to be a glint of excitement in his voice) about being beaten and mugged by a group of boys on the streets.

Over the six weeks or so I’ve been here, various events / observances have added yet further credence to “Nairobbery’s” negative reputation.

• A colleague asked how long I was in town for. “Two and half months,” I said. “Hmm…,” he replied, “that gives you a 50% chance of leaving without getting mugged.”
• Another colleague and I left a client site one night at 8.30pm. Late, but certainly not late late. There was one taxi waiting outside, a legit one. My colleague wondered aloud whether it might be safer to walk across to a nearby hotel and to take a car from there. I thought he was joking. He wasn’t.
• From time to time another work colleague picks me up from home in the mornings en route to the client site. He usually picks me up around 8.00am, when it is bright outside and the streets are full of traffic. Still, he will only unlock the car once I reach the door. And as soon as I’m inside, all doors are immediately locked.
• On the radio, every morning, the DJs discuss the deteriorating security situation in the city.
• My roommate and I often go out at night. He’s a largely happy-go-lucky guy, who enjoys life. But when it comes a time to heading home, he suddenly turns an uncharacteristic shade of caution. “We need to take only large, well-lit roads,” he comments. He also drives fast and avoids slowing down too much at intersections. Nairobi has a terrible reputation for car-jacking. “If some guy does point a gun at your window,” he advises, “just get out of the car and give him the keys. No trouble.” And when we get home: "Ah, good thing we got home safe."
• The other day we were picking-up a friend from her place at around 8.30pm. I thought we’d just wait outside her building for her to come out. My roommate didn’t think it would be safe to sit stationary. So we drove up and down the road until we saw her. She lives just around the corner from the Prime Minister.
• Every apartment block is, of course, protected by round the clock security guards. Private security firms have blossomed in the city. To provide added comfort to citizens, some security companies even position roving security vans around the suburbs. The guards do nothing but sit around in the vans all day, waiting to be called to an apartment block lest any funny business happen there.
• Last, but not least, speaking of ‘funny business’, the other day I got home around 11.00pm and a police van was parked outside the gate. Blue and red lights flashed ominously and serious-looking uniformed men were engaged in busy chatter. I went in and the security guards had nervous looks on their faces. “What happened?” I asked. “Nothing sir, just some funny business.”

That’s probably enough data points to the get the picture.

But then there’s the flip side. Despite these various security concerns, Nairobi is a thriving metropolis. The city is full of multi-cuisine and high-end restaurants, bars, pubs and clubs, shopping malls and supermarkets. It is also home to a large expatriate population, driven in no small part by the fact that many multilateral development organizations, as well as international NGOs, are headquartered here. It is also the de facto commercial capital of East Africa. Nightspots rarely get busy before midnight. We left a nightclub at 3.30am the other day; it was still packed and going strong.

This is the enigma of Nairobi: one of the world’s most dangerous cities, but also one of Africa’s most active and alive. People, it seems, are cognizant of dangers, but are not going to let these get in the way of living and enjoying their lives. And, to be honest, things really are not so bad. Sure I’ve only been here a few weeks, but it seems that, like anywhere else in the world, as long as you make smart choices you can pretty much avoid most unpleasant low probability events (even if the probability of these events is somewhat higher here than in other parts). As the Lonely Planet concludes: “it’s easy enough to sidestep the worst of the city’s dangers and, as Kenyan cities go, this one has plenty going for it.”