Up at the crack of dawn, I open the flap of my tent with bleary eyes and peer outside cautiously. It is still dark, the African skies painted with just a tinge of pink and purple hues. But I am not looking up at the sky. I am looking straight ahead at Mount Kilimanjaro, who has finally shaken off the perennial blanket of clouds and is ready to face a new day. Just as I am.
This is Amboseli, a small (relatively speaking) national park in Kenya’s south, whose diverse habitats and multiple elephant herds had charmed me on my ever first safari trip to Africa years ago. Of all the national parks in Kenya, Amboseli is also special for the way people from the nomadic Maasai tribe, who are easily identified by their bright red shawls known as Shuka, have always been its guardians.
And so, on this visit, I shun the sprawling expanse of the Maasai Mara, and directly head down to the dusty plains of Amboseli National Park instead. And at Amboseli, I choose to stay away from the crowds at the lodges surrounding the park gates, and base myself at Elerai Camp, a small ecolodge with a prime location between the park on one side and Kilimanjaro on the other. I have mentally labelled it as an “Ele and Kili” trip.
Surely enough, within half an hour of my jeep safari into Amboseli, I come across a few dozen elephants—big and small, male and female—happily wading through swampy waters, against the backdrop of the moody Kilimanjaro. The young ones are particularly endearing and entertaining, playing with each other in the mud and getting into regular kid mischief, only pausing for a breather when the matriarch gives them a loud warning trumpet.
We don’t see any lions or leopards on this safari, but we come across a pair of cheetahs in hunt mode, crouching and crawling around a herd of unsuspecting Thomson’s gazelles. We also spot plenty of avian species, from Ugandan cranes to Kori bustards, ending with a massive group of flamingos who have coated Amboseli Lake in a striking swathe of pink. We stop for lunch at the Observation Hill, a lookout point offering panoramic views of the national park and the greater Rift Valley region, where we get to step out of the jeep and stretch our legs.
But these are delights to be found at any of Kenya’s national parks. The real highlight of this trip to Amboseli is an evening walk through the bush with Kuata Ole Panian, a young Maasai guide from the settlement close to the camp. On my first evening at Elerai, he greets me with a cheerful smile and a “call me Pete” offer.
Elerai Camp is situated in a private conservation zone that has been identified by the African Wildlife Foundation as a critical corridor for wildlife that once used to cross seamlessly between the Kilimanjaro Forest Reserve in Tanzania and the Amboseli National Park in Kenya. The loss of such open corridors has created serious wildlife conservation issues, due to a steady fragmentation of habitats and increased human-wildlife conflicts.
And that is why protected zones such as the Kitenden Corridor—where the camp is located—play a crucial role in this part of Africa. In 2009, a small and dedicated group of conservation champions entered into a mutually beneficial partnership between the camp and the Maasai to secure the Kitenden Corridor for wildlife—and equally importantly, serve the welfare of the community. As Torben Rune, Managing Director of Elerai Camp explains, “With National Parks, it is generally the state overseeing the protection of wildlife areas, with little consideration for surrounding communities.”
This explains why Maasai folk like Pete regularly work with tourists who visit the camp, taking them on both guided walks around the conservancy area and on jeep safaris deep into Amboseli National Park. For the evening’s walk through the bush, Pete has come dressed in his traditional red and black Shuka, along with a couple of other Maasai folks from his village who will accompany us. These two are carrying long spears there were once used to hunt lions, but are now merely symbols of their agility and bravery, as Pete quickly assures me. “Nowadays, we show our warrior side by competing in the Maasai Olympics,” he says. “We use this spear like a javelin to see who can throw it the farthest.”
Pete identifies and describes the birds and bushes along the way, revealing a depth of knowledge only a child of this terrain would have. He keeps up a continuous flow of tips about surviving in the wild, of which we pay close attention to only one, and that too because it involves the gentle giants I have come to Amboseli for. “In case you ever get lost in the African bush, just find your nearest ‘elephant highway’ and you will be fine,” he says, referring to the singular mud tracks they create. “Because elephants are so intelligent, they can smell water from up to 15 miles away.” Okay then, I may still be lost, but at least, I won’t ever be parched.
We spot a couple of giraffes in the distance, then a lone tusker, followed by some antelopes—including a dik-dik and a few elands, viz. the smallest and largest of these species. After a couple of hours on the walk, we come across a classic African vista: a solitary acacia tree, with the red ball of the setting sun framed through its branches. And it’s time for sundowners in the bush, served up with light bites and a stunning view of Kili with all its three volcanic peaks—Mawenzi, Shira and Kibo—clearly visible.
Later in the night, we have a private sighting from our dinner table—a family of elephants who have come to drink water from the small pond on the premises. And when I walk back to the tent along with a Maasai bodyguard, we hear the spine-chilling roar of a lion who has been seen around the same pool a couple of days ago. Not surprisingly, I fall asleep dreaming of growling lions and naughty elephants.
Rune says, “Elerai Camp is focused on guests getting to experience the best of wildlife and the Maasai tribe culture, to show how the two can together live in harmony.” And I have to admit that my stay here has indeed included a rewarding combination of a conventional safari along with an in-depth interaction with the very people to whom this land belongs.