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We thought that we would save some money on the return trip from Kenya, so we checked my daughter in this box.
Lillian is now happily back home with her evil nemisis, Lucy. Yesterday, Lillian had 4 girls over to celebrate her 8th birthday. I wish we had recorded her "report out" of her safari adventure in the Maasai Mara.It was like watching James Brown give a 3 minute speech: a random assortment of twitching, dancing, sound effects, hooting and yoddling.
A brief slideshow of ariel photos taken on a flight from Nairobi to the Maasai Mara game reserve.
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Just flew back to Nairobi from the vast grasslands of the Maasai Mara. Stayed at the wonderful tent hotel, Kichwa Tembo. So many stories and images to share.
Lillian on safari. Continue on to see some of the animals she spotted...
Our accomodations at Kichwa Tembo. Each tent looks out on a private view of the game park.
We flew in on their private airstrip.
Thanks to this pilot and plane.
The vast vista is interrupted only by the grand escarpement, a ridge marking the border of the park.
Our trusted driver and guide, Douglas.
Setting out into the savannah.
"Momma Safari" earns her name by being the sharpest game spotter.
Lillian refers to her animal guide book.
A dusty herd heads for the wallowing hole.
The Topi (aka. "Blue Jeans") Antelope
Lions!
Daddy Lion.
Daddy lion feeds on a gazelle.
Mommy lion teaches her cubs to eat meat.
Vulture wait their turn.
Mommy lion and cubs.
Well-fed cheetah rests.
Storks arrive for the 10AM meeting.
A word of warning.
We see why...
A scarred old hippo is shunned from the pool.
Hippo politics.
Crocs at the dangerous river crossing for the Great Migration.
Croc with his left-overs.
A massive field of water buffalo.
Keryn and Lillian are "besties".
And had a fantastic time togehter as three generations "back home" in Kenya!
Today, at the PopTech Climate Gender Lab we went out into the field.
Part of the participants went out to visit farmers went to witness the work of Rose Goslinga, who leads the Syngenta Foundation’s Kilimo Salama, the first micro-insurance product available to smallholder Kenyan farmers.
Our group traveled two hours east of Nairobi to participate in a community-based scenario game focused on climate change and gender.
In the morning, we met with local members of the Kenyan Red Cross who briefed us on the local situation.
Specifically, years of poor rainfall and drought are forcing girls to drop out of school and migrate to Nairobi to become servants. This is in part due to the fact that farmers need to switch from traditional crops (corn and beans) to more resilient crops, namely cassava.
Cassava is native to South America, is extensively cultivated as an annual crop in tropical and subtropical regions for its edible starchy, tuberous root, a major source of carbohydrates.
The game was created by Janot and Pablo Suarez, and is used with the Red Cross and Red Crescent to help communities think through strategic responses to the effects of climate change.
Local farmers and elders greet us and welcomed us to their community-based organization (CBO).
Due to low rainfall, the corn fields are completely dried up.
This community build has been leased and turned into a cassava-processing center.
A members of the Kenyan Red Cross listens to the rules of the Climate Game.
Many age groups were well-represented.
Janot Mendler de Suarez facilitates the game, in which decisions have consequences.
Our documentarian filmmaker, Daniel, tries to be subtle.
The "losers" have to "migrate to Nairobi" and sit out the rest of the game.
A roll of the dice determine what seasonal rains will come.
In another round, wrist bands determine who is male and who is female.
Elders watch on in curiosity.
Cassava after it has been shredded. It can then be milled and turned into flour.
The farmers end with a dance.
The proud members of the C.B.O.
Sketch of a cassava plant and its big ole tubers!
Today, we hired the Hersmans' friend, Kennedy, to drive us around town, starting with The New Stanley Hotel. This is a place of legend from the days of mustachioed aristocrats heading on big gun safaris from the back of convertible Rolls Royces. Hemmingway's crowd congregated at the Thorn Tree Cafe.
We headed up Lower Kabete Road to find the Kenya Institute of Administration where my father taught in a program for magistrates.
The road winds through old villas and new housing projects draped in shady trees.
There is still a tremendous amount of security for each house... barbed wire, electric fences, steel gates.
We were also searching for the house that my mother and father lived in back in the late 1960s. Our driver joked that perhaps it is here in the pile of recycled building materials.
I enjoy all the types of gates and fencing solutions full of ingenuity and color.
We found the Institute and decided to see if we could get inside to look around.
We were met by a grumpy soldier with a large machine gun who said that it was not possible to enter.
Another guard eventually heard mom's story, made a phone call, took my passport, and let us through to reception.
The assistant director took us back to his office and after hearing that Dad was involved in the early years of the Institution, made a call to the director of the museum.
The Asst. Director personally walked us to the museum past the beautiful landscaping, explaining to us the changes in the Kenyan constitution.
And lo and behold! My dad was spotted in a group photo hanging on the museum wall!
In this photo, Dad was probably 35-years-old. Mom remarked: "Hey! He was good looking!"
I was really choked up after all the years of hearing about his work, but never having a visual of what this place was like. And then to see that his work really did contribute to a country.
I feel very proud and amazed that this day came to pass.
Sunny Sunday afternoon in Nairobi and our friends took us out to the local mall, Junction. First stop: Bonk. This t-shirt shop was launched by one of Erik's friends and has stellar, sweet designs based on Kenyan symbols and clever plays on words.
The mall was more massive and sophisticated than I ever imagined and obviously the go-to place for expats and affluent Kenyans alike.
We had lunch at Nairobi Java House, launched by two American aid workers who had been disabused of the effectiveness of their work in the Sudan, and who are now rather successful entrepreneurs.
The menu looks like it was lifted straight from an American family restaurant and the vibe mirrors Panera. They (thankfully) had the main cuisine of children ages 2-10 ... chicken tenders and fries!
I have been really impressed by the quality of design in general, both online and in the city.
It is safe to say that Erik, in his position as director of Ushahidi and the iHub, knows everyone who is making stuff happen in technology.
We ran into several people from the iHub community, including Jamila (above), co-founder of m:Farm and Angela (below), a member of iHub Research.
The mall was stacked with quality food shops and a mini-Walmart-like grocery superstore where one can buy everything from coffee beans to vacuum cleaners and large-scale plasma screens.
After lunch, we treated the kids to a little bungie bounce entertainment set up in the Mall parking lot.
As the heat of the day cranked up, we retreated back to the compound garden.
We lounged around the house in the afternoon, the girls making bracelets with Momma D and getting gussied up for the Masaai Market.
This open air market moves around the city, taking over the parking lot of the YaYa Center on Sundays.
My mom talked a good game about how much a negotiator she is... but when left unsupervised, she was fleeced just as briskly as I was.
However, the resulting full Maasai costume for my daughter was well worth it!
One salesman, David, came up to me several times while I was working with the Maasai Mama, saying: "Peetah! You must help your mama. She is in need of assistance!"
Mom was sliding down the slippery slope of negotiation on some paintings and sinking fast in an inflated pricing bog.
Meanwhile, David was buttering me up for his own sweet negotiation, calling me "Red Bull".
At one point in the negotiation, David said: "I respect you. I respect your beard. I respect your family. But I do not respect the price you propose!"
His first price was 22,000 Kshe ($275) then we settled on 17,500 Kshe ($218). After I purchased, he admitted that I could have gotten it at 12,500 Kshe ($156) which means it was probobly worth 1,250 Kshe ($15).