This may come as a surprise to many, but we have only been here for two weeks.
It came as a surprise to us also. We seem to have seen a lifetime's worth of nature, an incredible array of wondrous wildlife, an astounding assortment of beauty, an enormous variety of ways to die, but, reluctantly, now it was time to leave this glorious land.
Our last view from around our camp was not exactly magnificent. Dawn blossoming over burnt-out savannah is not exactly picturesque. Humans eh?
Arriving, for the last time, at Crossing Zero, we searched for wildlife, but instead we were in for a shock.
Ian had spotted movement in the far distance over the other side of the Mara. There was something there.
He said it looked human.
I, of course, could see nothing. With binoculars and five minutes of "Left a bit. Right a bit" I eventually saw a form creeping through the undergrowth. With my extended-multiplied-super-telephoto-zoom mega-lens, I took a picture of a far distant speck.
Cropping, magnifying, photoshopping and blaspheming, eventually a form evolved...
It was a bloody poacher. Bloody being the operative word.
In his hand his trusty poison-tipped spear. This was not used to kill animals, it was just for self preservation. To kill his prey he uses snares. Snares that entrap all manner of wildlife. It is these very snares that have amputated so many elephants trunks.
We called the rangers and awaited any response. We were later informed that, yes, they were tracking him, but have yet to find anyone stupid enough to risk giving up their lives to confront him.
These are dangerous people. They are from the Kamba town mentioned in Chapter 17. They are renowned for being from one of the most dangerous tribes of Africa.
Just to be clear, the entire future of the tribes around here depends on their one major asset: wildlife. To kill it off for short term gain is a surefire way of destroying their children's future, as well as causing more suffering than even the most cruel natural predators.
They have helped drive towards extinction the very wealth on which their future depends.
Sympathy for the local tribes thus reduced, it was time for us to move on.
We passed by some elephants contemplating traversing the Mara, but not today.
Better luck next time.
Instead, my morning coffee called me.
Followed by a farewell photo.
After a slow breakfast we checked out some more of the Mara on our way to the airstrip.
Lo and behold. A growing herd of wildebeest were thinking of giving us a farewell show.
This was a very relaxed experience, much more typical of other's experiences of crossings.
In other words, wait and see. Then wait some more.
To help you understand, look long and hard at this photograph. After ten minutes, tell me. Did you see any movement? No? Exactly like the real thing.
Only, after half an hour, they decide to move to another part of the Mara where the same exercise is repeated.
Again and again.
We spent our last of our morning doing this. A form of withdrawal.
We were running out of time. Our plane would soon be arriving to take us to the Kilimanjaro Processing Centre where our luggage would by thoroughly digested by various machines of dubious usefulness.
We were just about to leave when there was a sudden change.
The wildebeest were becoming more agitated, calling out. But none were prepared to commit to being the first to commit suicide.
However, on our side of the river was a lone calf. Somehow it had been separated from its family and was calling out plaintively. Response was heard from across the water.
Surely this would spur them on to risk the obviously crocodile infested water to get to their calf?
No bloody way. They were staying put.
This gave the brave young calf no other option. It leapt into the water all by itself!
Apart from the pre-mentioned obvious crocodiles.
Absolute insanity! Or was it love?
It felt as if the whole world was holding its breath.
Surely there was no way it could make it alive?
Surely the local crocodiles would gratefully accept this munchy morsel?
Beyond all hope, it reached the other side in altogether one piece. No bits were missing.
The herd absorbed the calf into its mass and looked with wry amusement...
...at the giant crocodile just below them at the waters edge.
The calf had survived. The herd had survived. We had survived.
And we all lived happily ever after.
The End
Well. Maybe.
