A storm and wild tales in Naboisho

Tour van converge at Ol Kiombo airstrip Mara. (Photo/ Peter Muiruri)

A few minutes past five in the afternoon on a Sunday two weeks ago, the pilot of an Air Kenya Dash 8 airplane landed at Maasai Mara’s Kichwa Tembo airstrip. The plane is one of the few large aircrafts that land in these earthen strips of land in the wild.

The landing was one of the two hops the plane had to perform before the return leg to the city. From Kichwa Tembo, the rest of the passengers were to disembark at Mara’s Ol Kiombo, a five-minutes dash from Kichwa Tembo.

Ol Kiombo serves a myriad of safari camps and lodges and is the ‘JKIA’ of Maasai Mara. This was the stop for a battery of foreign journalists and other delegates touring the region prior to attending the Magical Kenya Tourism Expo.

Then the storm closed in and our short flight was momentarily grounded. Now there are storms, and then there are storms in Masai Mara.

Imagine the beautiful, vast savannah under a canvas of dark, heavy clouds. The air thickens and the once tranquil landscape becomes a theater of nature’s raw power. Suddenly, the sky splits with a flash of lightning, followed by the deep rumble of thunder that shakes the ground.

Rain fell in torrents, turning the vehicle trails into a quagmire. Animals sought shelter. Nearby streams swelled with the sudden influx of water. The storm’s intensity was both awe-inspiring and humbling, showcasing the incredible force and beauty of nature in one of the world’s most iconic wildlife reserves.

The storm passed slowly but time flew. The captain deemed it too risky to land in another unmanned, wet airstrip at that late hour.

He made the call to return to the city we had left an hour earlier, sleep over and aim for an early morning departure to Mara. “Your safety is our main concern,” he told us. No flier ever argues with that line.

It was all clear skies as we made the second attempt to land in Ol Kiombo. Edward Sadera, one of the driver-guide at Basecamp Wilderness in Naboisho was at hand to receive us, anxiety written all over his face, wondering what could have become of us the previous evening. We related our storm story to him, and was relieved we had made it safely.

Masai Mara is like a diamond with multiple, sparkling surfaces. I have been to the Mara a number of times, yet every visit has taken me to different corners of the sprawling plains, each with a unique facet to unfurl. And nothing is more surreal that listening to guides like Edward explicate the magic of the Mara.

Edward grew up in Oloontoto village near Narok and has been serving as a guide since 2018. Like other young men here, he grew up interacting with wild animals and has understood the behaviour of every creature.

If he says it is time to stop, you stop and if he feels a certain animal does not take your presence kindly, you move.

And stop we did severally on the way to our pit stop, first to admire a pair of male ostriches doing the courtship dance to attract nearby females. The latter were unmoved and trotted away, leaving the dejected but brightly coloured males to their devices.

A secretary bird thumped the ground hoping to stir up the insects for quick snacks, her quill feathers, resembling the pens used by secretaries in days gone by, flattering in the wind. For a proper meal, the bird looks out for unwary rodents, and in some cases, snakes.

In a nearby small, smelly puddle, a school of hippos jostled for space as some mowed the grass on the banks, occasionally turning pink as a result of being out of water for longer periods.

On a nearby anthill, a lone martial eagle struggled to get a rock hyrax off the ground. With a striking dark brown upper part and white underparts with dark spots, the eagle is one of the largest in Africa with a wingspan of 2.6 metres and weighing over six kilogrammes.

We momentarily locked eyes with the killer bird which has been known to take down large prey including antelopes. Sadly, this beautiful bird is running out of hunting ground due to habitat loss and human conflict.

The icing on the cake of our day-long safari was a display of magnificence by the Inkisiu pride of lions in Naboisho Conservancy, numbering about 45 and split into two groups.

The first group was lazily straddled on the ground, the cubs climbing on their mothers’ backs and unconcerned with our presence. The splinter group, a few kilometres away, was on a mission to stalk a herd of wildebeests and feed the growing family.

For a good part of the afternoon, they stalked, and waited, drove the grazers from one valley, up a hill and down another. By twilight, there was no indication of a kill. Another hungry night.

Edward told us the two groups were once part of a single pride but the key males, Bunni and Limpy (so named for walking with a limp) kicked out the sub-adult daughters to prevent inbreeding.

“The lions here have fascinating stories,” Edward said, “We have spent all our times learning about their lives. These wildlands are our offices.”