Nelly The Elephant Packed Her Trunk...

Last week, I wrote at length of the conflict that exists in the running of the St Jude’s charity. Having lamented over the various issues at large, and the perilous future of the education system here, I have decided, this week, not to mention a thing about the school, the charity, my remaining time here or my current angst. In fact nothing at all about Tanzania this week; phew.

Instead I’m going to write about Kenya.

I decided last Monday that I had to get more medical advice on my lymphodoema and take action sooner rather than later. I had managed to ascertain that there were no medical professionals in the whole country who were able to help me, thus next stop was Nairobi, back to Dr Ron, to see what he had to say. So I packed my "trunk" and fled the country for a few days.

Despite the visa I purchased last time at the border being a “Single Entry Only” visa, I was merrily waved through and the $50 fee for a new Kenyan visa wavered.

Quite why, I don’t know, but brilliant!

The bus journey was as long and dusty as last time, the scenery lacking the camel excitement this time, but I did manage to get a swim in a lovely rooftop pool during my first afternoon, which made the day a bit more enjoyable (and the thirty five degree heat of the day a bit more bearable).

Nairobi is an odd place.  Branded “Nairobbery” by many, it has a bad, sad reputation. Rightly so, I assume, as there are tales aplenty about robberies, muggings and such like, whilst all and sundry warn you to take care of your valuables, and never, ever walk anywhere at night. Ok! Much of the rampant crime affects residents rather than tourists, but sadly, the prison-like status imposed upon visitors to the city leaves it with a rather soulless feel. 

The name "Nairobi" comes from a Maasai phrase Enkare Nyrobi, which translates as Cold Water, which is the name of the river running through. Only a hundred odd years ago, the city was an uninhabited swamp, where lions, rhino, leopards, giraffe and a myriad of other wild animals made their homes. After an initial development of a railway, Nairobi was chosen to be the capital of the country as it was developing under colonial rule. Former dusty trails were gradually turned into tree-lined avenues, with the city metamorphosising over the last fifty years into a jam-packed metropolis of sky-rise buildings, grid road systems, bustling markets and traffic jams. Nowadays, tall buildings made of steel and glass sparkle in the heat of the midday sun, rather than the former ripples of the Cold Waters. Gone are endless lions and rhino roaming the swampland, threatening those who stumble across their paths; replaced instead, it seems, with personified predators lurking the streets, waiting to pounce on the innocent and steal a camera or two. To be honest, though, it felt just like any big city in the world that I’ve visited. If you are sensible about not flashing around your cash or your camera, by day you can stroll the markets or city centre free of fear (unless scared of aggressive souvenir sellers or people wanting to strike up a conversation with a Mzungu.) I wouldn't wander the streets after dusk though – the atmosphere definitely changes when the sun goes down.

Despite a certain industrial ugliness pervading the city, the beauty of the natural environment fortunately remains in the nearby National Parks. Years of battles between big game hunters (such as President Roosevelt who came over in 1906, killed over 500 animals and sent their skins home) and conservationists were eventually won by the latter and the National Park was built just 6 miles from the city in 1946. I was reading about some of the issues with the park when it first opened – it seemed animal security wasn’t all that great, and a lion was seen wandering outside an exclusive hotel in 1962. Oops.

I had two hospital appointments during my swift return visit to Nairobi, but was determined to try and see something more of the city than just the inside of a doctor’s consultation room. So I took a trip, early one morning, to the David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust – about a thirty minute drive out of town.

Here exists a small charity, within the acres of the National Park, that rescues orphaned elephants and rhinos from isolation and imminent death following the death of their mothers.

Started in 1977 with the aim to rescue vulnerable animals from across the continent, the charity has successfully saved and hand-reared over one hundred infant African Elephant calves. The story of how it started is fascinating: the website tells it well.

www.sheldrickwildlifetrust.org

 All the elephant orphans raised by the Trust are gradually rehabilitated back into the wild elephant community of Tsavo National Park when grown. The transition is made at their own pace and in their own time, but usually taking approximately eight to ten years.

Every day, the park allow visitors to come and see the orphaned elephants, paying a small donation to the charity for the privilege. Standing around a roped off bit of dusty land, I stood with fifty young primary children who had come with their teacher for the morning. The excitement on their faces was adorable.

All of a sudden, a rustle in the bushes revealed the first trunk, and then a whole stream of baby elephants came rushing down the hill towards us.

Ranging from 8 months to just under two years, these guys were nothing short of adorable.

Bottle fed every three hours (they drink baby formula; the only milk suitable for their digestion, bar natural elephant milk) each orphan is reared by a band of keepers. These gentlemen devote their entire lives to the young calves, living beside them night and day.

Elephants are resonant of humans in so many ways. Naturally family orientated, the young elephants are wholly reliant on their mothers. Young bulls are more resilient, mainly because female family members will be bonded together for life by strong emotional bonds. Young bulls leave their family at puberty, preferring the company of other young bulls. Typical boys!

The charity are careful to emulate the care given by a mother to its calf: thus the family lost to an orphaned elephant is replaced by a human one, to allow the emotional development of the young elephants to develop alongside their physical strength.During early infancy the Keepers must be in physical contact at all times, replacing the contact the baby would have enjoyed from its elephant family and they actually spend the nights alongside the elephants, sleeping in their stables on small bunks.

It is also important to rotate the Keepers so that a different Keeper sleeps with a different elephant each night in order to avoid any strong attachment to just one person, as the psychological grief produced by a broken bond can trigger life threatening physical problems within the elephant psyche. They really are such fascinating animals.

They are bottle fed milk every three hours for their first year, with an oatmeal porridge added to the diet after five months.

I have never seen a baby drink so quickly and happily as these little chaps. They gulped, slurped and swallowed with gusto and even had a go at holding the bottle themselves!

They were then given a chance to have a bit of a play; running around together, playing with twigs and branches, rolling in the dust and having a tickle from their keepers.

The first elephants we met were the babies; all of them under a year old and all of them rescued from a range of horrific circumstances. The very youngest little lad, Lemoyian, was rescued when he was just three months old when he was found down a well close to Amboseli National Park.

Obviously some accident had caused him to fall, and become separated from his family.

He now has a new home – here is where he sleeps with his keepers.

The history of all these orphans is tragic – read the link below for more details – with the majority of them a product of ivory poaching: mothers shot dead for their tusks, babies left to fend for themselves.

http://www.sheldrickwildlifetrust.org/asp/orphans_history.asp

When the babies had finished frolicking around, they ran back up into the forest, and, five minutes later, a stampede of toddlers emerged!

These guys were slightly older, most between one and two years, and a little bit more streetwise.

Many of them were in the toddler stage of self-feeding, and all they wanted to do, post-bottle, was mess around.

From mud-wrestling to water squirting, they were absolutely hilarious to watch – full of energy and mischief.

It was an incredible hour spent up close and personal with some incredibly adorable little elephants. Seeing them run and play with each other, hearing the story of their rescue and rehabilitation and learning about their hopeful futures was a wonderfully heart-warming way to start my day.

Oh, one top tip if you ever get a chance to visit. White trousers are a foolish thing to wear, when you’re a few metres away from little elephant scamps who like to squirt water and throw mud at all and sundry. Hmm.

After frolicking with Nelly, Dumbo and pals, I hot-footed it to the Aga-Khan for my second appointment of the visit, this time with a lymphodoema specialist. I managed (Hallelujah) to track down the only woman in the whole of East Africa with training in this frustrating medical condition. She gave me a clear diagnosis, a heck of lot of good advice (no heavy lifting, no repetitive activities with that arm, no hot showers or baths, avoid hot places (!!)), some physio, and instructions of what to do for the next two weeks to try and alleviate the problems. All being well, an hour’s daily physio (self-inflicted thank goodness, otherwise I’d be moving to Kenya) for the next two weeks ought to bring the swelling down for now. Here’s hoping.

And then I was back on my little bus to Tanzania. Pronto. Presidential elections are coming up in Kenya this week, and there have been government warnings issued advising travellers to avoid particular hot-spots in the country, areas of Nairobi being one of them. There was significant violence in the area following the last elections five years ago, with over 1000 dead. It was interesting talking to people whilst I was there about the upcoming election, and it was obvious that tensions are high and anger is already brimming. I was both amused and alarmed by the publicity campaign poster of one of the fore-runners:

Cross between an Arnie Schwarznegger character and a charming sleeze, he’s obviously trying to go for the Mr Versitlity approach, but it does ring of a certain violent undertone.
Anyway, I had a good stay this time – full of positive medical advice, elephant cuteness and a cheerily optimistic farewell message from the country to think about on my journey home.

Highlight of the long bus ride home? The border crossing. Again, despite my Tanzanian visa clearly stating it is a Single Entry Only visa, I was let into the country without further payment.  Brilliant yet again. Whilst sitting on the pavement waiting for the rest of the folk on my bus to get through the passport check, I observed a young man on a single crutch wandering from person to person selling something. Intrigued to see what it was bulging from his back pockets, I shuffled a few feet down my perch and saw, much to my shocked amusement, that it was passports! British, America, Kenyan, Tanzanian and a myriad of other coloured booklets were available for purchase: and people were buying them!

I started to take a few pics (as I wanted to pop him here in my blog) then suddenly realised I had the look of an undercover cop, about to bust him mid-operation, so swiftly stashed my camera back in my bag and pretended to fiddle with the zip whilst he hobbled by. No sale today mister. Sorry. But I now know where to come if I want to change my identity…! The audacity of doing such mischief in broad daylight, right outside the passport office just confirmed what a bonkers place this country is!

I was welcomed back to the house by three new flatmates: a brown widow spider, a camel spider (or wind scorpion as it is commonly called) and a giant wasp.

I was not able to take any photos of the former pair, as I ran screaming for help, then removed them swiftly from the premises. But I have to say that none of them were invited, and none of them were welcome. They have all now thankfully left and I’ve put clear signs out that I am not up for any more visits from their pals. Here’s hoping.

So, after a few days away with the elephants, I’m now back at the circus and busy planning my moves. It is half term this week, which gives me a few days thinking space. Plans are already rumbling in my mind and I feel a lot more hopeful of ways to make these next few months positive. All in all, my little Kenyan rendez-vous was just the tonic I needed to clear my head and reassess my work here. Obviously a visit to Nelly and pals was just what the doctor ordered...