Natron Tales 1993/4 - Part 2

PART 2 – KEEP THEM!!! KEEP THEM ALL!!!

Shompole mountain with Lake Magadi in the distance. We had hoped to sneak around the front of the mountain as you look at it here, but instead had to go around the back

Carrying on north on the same day that I magically saw how to make a Land Rover disappear, we camped a few miles south of the Kenya border on what is normally a dry riverbed. On arriving at the river, we found a massive torrent feeding Lake Natron and had no way of crossing with the camels. We decided to overnight under some lovely fig trees and hopefully the river would have subsided by the morning.

That night I went to sleep continually bursting into giggles over the three British Army lads I had met that day and the ‘magic’ Land Rover.’

When we woke, the river had gone down, but the lake had come up! The water in the lake was way higher than I had ever seen it. The rain on the escarpment to the west of us and the water from the Ewaso Nyiro feeding in from Kenya had pushed the lake shore right up to the track we were using to circumnavigate around the lake overnight. It must have been bucketing it down all night, up and down the western Rift Valley highlands in both Kenya and Tanzania to bring the water level up so high.

On walking back out to the lake shore from our protected camp, and heading north a short while, we soon realised there is no way we would be able cross the northern end of the lake and keep in Tanzania. We would have to enter Kenya and pass north of the Shompole mountain, and then sneak back into Tanzania again.

I was aware of a road that crossed the bottom of the rift valley along the border from the western escarpment, through Shompole village and onto Lake Magadi. All we needed to do was cut south once we passed Shompole and get back on track south.

The first bit of bad news was that as we neared the Kenya border, the swamp which feeds from the Ewaso Nyiro was very high, so we had to break off the track and head to slightly higher ground and bush whack our way into Kenya until we hit the track heading to the village.

The second bit of bad news is that by having had to do a lot of bush whacking, which camels by the way do not like on rocky ground, we had lost a lot of time. I had intended to walk back into Tanzania by around 3pm that day and camp on the slopes of Shompole mountain. This was not likely now, but luckily the track to the village, while wet, was passable despite the rains.

As we entered Shompole village an immigration shitstorm ensued.

If you recall in part 1 of this tale, the four of us consisted of a US citizen, 2 Kenyans and a Tanzanian. What I did not mention is that none of us were carrying ID of any kind as we felt it safer not to lose it, and frankly we did not anticipate needing any.

Also please consider that I had four creatures that had never been seen in southern Kenya before, that I too had no papers for. The Masai in this region had never seen a camel, so the curiosity levels of the local villagers were peeked to say the least.

Due to the delay, I had intended on marching through the village, Laurence of Arabia style, wave politely at the villagers and keep moving so we could find a camp site in good time. This carefully thought-out plan was thwarted by the local ‘mwenyekiti’ or chairperson of the village. Sort of like the village chief, but in this case with some sort of vague governmental authority. Turned out more like the village idiot!

Said Mwenyekiti came running out of the local pub, of which there was only one back in the day, gesticulating and shouting madly to try and stop us from proceeding through his domain. Again, I think it was perhaps the curiosity initially, of seeing 2 white people and 4 strange creatures passing by his bar mid afternoon. I can only imagine him blinking wildly, clearing his eyes again to be sure of what he had just seen, then launching himself out of the shebeen in time to stop these strange trespassers.

The caravan ground to a halt and the village all came out to see what was going on. When camels have walked for a few hours and then stop, usually the first thing they do is spread their rear legs slightly and then pee - backwards – this applies to both males and females.

On cue, all four camels that were tied in a line together, started peeing, which brought the villagers to stitches of laughter. Crazy looking creature that pees backwards!!! WTF???

The Mwenyekiti, who had obviously been in the pub for a while, introduced himself with a sticky, limp handshake, and a lot of boozy breath. I never did catch his name due to the alcoholic slur on a probably already complicated Masai name.

I in turn introduced the team at which point he asked us where we were all from. In my innocence of the moment, I thought nothing of it to tell him where we from.

- 1 Kenyan (myself), but now living in Tanzania

- Another Kenyan, from Samburu but now living in Tanzania – my headman

- A Tanzanian Masai

- An American visiting Tanzania

- And four camels, originally from Kenya, but now living in Tanzania

- “And nice to meet you too sir”

He then asked to see our passports and papers for the camels.

At being told we had none, his eyes spun around in his head three times and he went into apoplectic confusion and again started a crazy gesticulation and sprayed us with a shower of spit while trying to get a sentence out. No need for a shower tonight at least!

Once he calmed down a bit, we finally managed to establish from him that due to the lack of papers, the illegal entry of us into Kenya (despite two of us being Kenyan), the illegal import of livestock (despite them also being from Kenya originally) and having a foreign citizen in the country without a visa, that he would have to arrest us all and impound the camels.

Hmm. This could be a bit of a sticky one, I thought to myself.

I could plainly see that this boy was trying to wield his not very mighty stick of authority at us. I could have pointed out that he had no authority to arrest or impound anything. I could also have played coy and offered him an olive branch in the form of a few pieces of paper with a president’s head on but thought the better of it. In his state, who knew where any of that would take us.

Before responding to him, I glanced up and down this one donkey town’s main road to make sure there was no police station or a police pick-up that could take us to one. Cops I guessed, could arrest us, but this clown could not.

Having been born in Kenya and living in Tanzania for a couple of years my Swahili was pretty good. So, I put on my best actor’s face, pretended to be all upset with life and returned him with a verbal tirade of my own.

In a lot more words than this, I basically told him that I was sick and tired of Americans, I was sick and tired of walking, I was even more exhausted of dealing with these bloody camels and I had had enough of life in general. I was tired, bored of this situation, and did I mention tired, and all I wanted to do was sleep. So yes, please do arrest me. Put me in a cell of my own to allow me to sleep and do as you wish with everyone else. Oh, and one last thing. I do not want to see a camel for two days at least. BUT. If anything happens to any of them, or to our equipment, I will hold him personally responsible. So, let's go. I am ready. Lock me up chap!

My team were staring at me with mouths aghast. The whole village had fallen silent and they were all now staring at the Mwenyekiti, waiting for a response from him. Apart from the birds and cicadas there was no other noise, except that of the very small gears turning in his very confused head.

To break the stalemate, I turned around and walked towards the pub, shouting back at him to show me to the cell immediately as I wanted a rest. He came running after me, and apologetically kind of admitted that he could not or would not arrest us all, and was there some other way we could resolve this?

I suggested we go to the pub and talk it over a few beers, but either release the others to proceed or lock them up. He waved them off indistinctly as his mind was now back on the pub.

The camels who had by this time all laid down - a procedure which again brought the villagers to tears, were made to stand up and head off. We quickly planned a rendezvous a couple of kilometres out of the village in site from the road so I could find them easily, and off they went while I went into the shebeen with my new best mate.

We discussed the issue at hand not once, and talked only with him and a couple of the old boys from the village about the pros and cons of camels. After a few warm ales, lots of back slapping and another spit shower, I made my excuses and headed out of town, getting lots of waves and smiles from the villagers.

I found the others just before dusk. Camp was set up under a lovely acacia next to a dry riverbed. Since we got in late and because it was a beautiful camp site, we stayed the next day and night too, so the camels could get a good day of browsing before we headed south down the harsh lakeside of eastern Lake Natron.

Note to self - remember to pack your passport when you leave the house.

The eastern shore of Lake Natron with Oldonyo Gelai on the left and Oldonyo Lengai in the centre. The Ngorongoro highlands are in the background and the Serengeti plains on top of the escarpment to the right of the photo