The Serengheti Plains

After a teary goodbye with Mike, I joined my father, Tom, and his friend Jack Ford for a week long safari into some of Tanzania and the world's most famous game parks. Our guide, Frank, was an extremely kind and knowledgeable companion. He had been leading safaris ( safari = "journey" in Swahili) since 1969 and took a keen interest in the behavior and habitat of the animals.
Within minutes of entering Lake Manyara NP, there were baboons walking around our Land Rover and a herd of elephants munching trees a few hundred yards away. We saw herd after herd of gazelle, a warthog take a dip in a stream, the vervet monkey with testicles as bright as blue gumballs, and a lionness eyeing the plains. In the distance the lake looked pink with flamingos, and giraffes crossed in front of our path. As the afternoon wound to a close, we wound our way up the cliff to our lodge perched on its edge. The evening's buffet started a week of decadent and abundant food that seemed to get better with each new hotel.
The next two days we spent traveling through the Serengheti. I was surprised by how flat and barren it was in some areas. It recalled places in Wyoming or Texas with the flat, far reach of the horizon and lack of trees or water. It was here where we saw the largest groups of migrating wildebeest leading the march for the buffalo and zebras that accompanied them. Later in the afternoon we saw a leopard asleep on a tree limb and the rare spotting of FOUR cheetahs laying low in the grasses.
I think the coolest experience of the safari happened on our second day in the Serengheti. In a park that can sometimes be crowded with 4x4s, we were the only vehicle on the road as we pulled up alongside a lionness crouched next to the gravel. We watched for an hour as she stalked some topis in the distance. Three hyenas caught onto her plan and started circling the larger territory, as if licking their lips. The gazelles across the road stood at attention, able to smell her scent upwind. Further down the road eight giraffes crossed, oblivious to her presence and in the distance a herd of about twenty elephants loped about. The lionness slowly creeped towards the topis, alternating between crouching and a low walk. Then at once she took off! Her bulging muscles carried her into a sprint, but, tough luck, the topis darted off to safety. That night as we reached the new hotel, monkey's ran down the outdoor hallways and signs warned us not to walk around the property at night. With good reason! As I turned out the light for bed I heard two lions roaring in the vicinity of our hotel. Awesome!
The next day we visited a Masaai village to observe some of the traditions of this warrior people. They showed us how they built their small huts out of animals skins and dung and explained how they drink a mixture of the milk and blood of their animals as a typical staple. When I asked if they caught the blood in a bowl after slitting its throat, the village chief's son immediately put his finger to his mouth to signal the taboo I made. Dad and Jack got their first taste of life in an African village and saw how debilitating the simple hardships such as fetching water can be, a rare and expensive commodity in the plains.
We then went on to the Ngorongoro Crater via the Olduvai Gorge. Literally a crater from a fallen volcano, the animals are essentially corraled into this huge expanse. Occasionally the elephants and buffalo will venture to the top of the rim, but otherwise it is easy to spot many animals on any given day. You think National Geographic has some special access, but really it's just special cameras! Even from the deck of our hotel perched on the crater rim, we were able to see three engangered black rhinos through binoculars. When we entered the crater, Frank was able to track a rhino at a close distance. We also saw a male lion strut slowly across the road in front of us after making a kill and a cheetah gaurd her fresh prey. The safari ended when we returned to our hotel for another delicious meal and a lively musical performance by a Maconde dance tribe, known for their colorful costumes and use of masks. With that, a long but amazing vacation came to an end and I started the transition back to my "bush" life in Niger.
(photo index: elephant in Lake Manyara NP, Dad (L) and Jack, the Masaai, the lionness stalker)

...To Sea Level

After seven days of hiking, we decided to treat our sore feet to a soak in the Indian Ocean. The promise of exotic beauty lured us to Zanzibar. Passing a night in Dar Es Salaam, a fine, clean city, we took the early morning ferry to Stone Town on Zanzibar, the blending of cultures apparent from the boat deck.
An important trading port and once the seat of the Sultan of Oman, Zanzibar is one of the original spice islands. One can envision pirates clashing with trading vessels off the island's shores. Fields of clove are still grown in the island's interior and it remains one of Zanzibar's largest income generators.
Indian merchants mix with African islanders and the influence of Arab traders is seen in the Islamic architecture, the women cloaked head to toe and the call to mosque echoing throughout the city.
The island only began heavily hosting tourism in the early '90s. The clear, clean purple and teal water lapping calmly on white sand beaches offers a calm and relaxing vacation, while the offshore coral reefs host some of the world's best diving. Getting around the island is easily done in a morning, so after spending a day wandering the narrow streets of Stone Town, admiring the famous doors of Zanzibar - relics of trading times, eating grilled tuna and lobster from street sellers and visiting Mercury's, a bar erected in honor of Zanzibar native, Freddie Mercury of Queen, we made our way north.
Kendwa Rocks was our resort destination, a beach on the west coast popular with globetrotting backpackers for its full moon parties and beach front cabanas. I'm already a beach lover, but after roughing it in Niger for over a year and living a life without luxury, I felt like I had arrived in Paradise!! Mike and I took long swims in the perfect water of the Indian Ocean, swang in the hammock on the front porch of our cabana and sank our toes into the soft sand. The euphoria of love and the sensations of beautiful scenery, delicious food and a slight rum buzz transported me to a different world. One I hope to return to someday! Ah, Zanzibar...
(photo index: Mike and I on the steps of our cabana, a dowh sailing at sunset, me loving life!)

From Snow Caps...

Kilimanjaro, Serengheti, Zanzibar...Tanzania has so many exotic sounding places that roll off the tongue with an air of romanticism and adventure that is still well deserved. The inland is lush and wild with new growth and fertility, a stark contrast to the desert landscape I came from. Arriving in Moshi at the foothills of Kilimanjaro, I felt the movement of development in progress as I passed coffee plantations and entered the thriving downtown with hoards of uniformed children on their way to school, suggesting at least a tentative hold on prosperity.
My boyfriend, Michael Brennan, joined me several days later and we embarked on our journey to the top of Africa's highest mountain, a glacier near the equator. We chose to take the Machame, or Whiskey Route to the top as the trail allows for better acclimatization and the largest number of hikers who reach the summit. At 19,340 feet, we spent seven days winding our way up through the rainforest canopy, the heather and moorland, into the alpine forest and finally to the top of the glacier. Most of the trails are not technical and we met many people who do not regularly hike in their home countries. The mountain is definitely a bit of a tourist trap, with the trails lacking the solitude and desolation I typically seek when hiking at home. Nonetheless, it has been a dream of mine to see this magical mountain and look over its green hills from the top.
On the morning of the summit they woke us before midnight to begin our ascent. The sky was moonless and absolutely black with the small dots of flashlights slowly marching their way up the trail ahead of us. We bundled up in our warmest winter clothes, grabbed our hiking poles and followed our guide James up the rocky shale. The pace of ascent is incredibly slow, with each step the deliberate placement of one foot in front of the other. Mike had no problems with the altitude, having become accustomed to Colorado's thin mountain air. But for me, I definitely struggled at about 17,000 feet. It was three in the morning, we hadn't eaten since four the previous afternoon, and all I wanted to do was crawl into the snow for a short nap. This onset of fatigue and a slight headache were classic signs of altitude sickness setting in. We took 15 minutes to rest, I ate one of Mike's Clif Bars and a few aspirin and then felt infinitely better.
We continued the steep climb straight up to Stella Point which ended the toughest part of the hike. The approach to the summit, Uhuru Peak, was a gradual walk up with the face of the glacier wall to our left, a view of the volcanic crater to our right and the sunrise coming up over the clouds.
Feeling both euphoric and exhausted, we still had to make the descent, arguably more difficult and harder on the body than the upward climb. Six hours and one less toe nail later, Mike and I were able to pull off our boots, pop some aspirin and crack open a bottle of cold Kilimanjaro lager, sold at the low altitude mountain huts. Our final hike out the next day wound us back through the rainforest where we strolled under 20 foot high giant ferns, watched black and white colubus monkeys swing through the trees and shared our experience with other hikers signing out at the gate.
(photo index: our guides James, Christian, Mike and I at the summit, Uhuru Peak from our base camp, Mike and James in the moorland)

The Dogon of Mali

And I'm off!!! After a year of growing into my African alter ego, living through an unbelievable hot season, and being able to make jokes in Hausa, I headed out of Niger for a month of vacation. My first stop was my next door neighbor, Mali. Despite the similarity in landscape and climate, the cultural differences were enough to transform me to a different world!
I strapped on my back pack and passed through Burkina Faso to enter Mali from the southeast corner. To cross the border into Mali, I waited for a bush taxi to carry me down the 120km dirt road. The golden rule of bush taxis is that you can ALWAYS fit one more, so after smushing yet another person in, we were ready to depart at about 5:00pm. I knew this would have me traveling at night, but didn't want to waste my night in Ouahigouya (try saying it, it's fun!) We stopped at several fireside customs and border crossing huts and finally arrived at Koro, Mali at 3:00 in the morning after the customs agent detained us for two hours to search everything on top of and inside the van.
My luck turned a bit better the next morning as I was able to hitch a ride with an NGO vehicle to the next big town, Bankass. This would be the launching point for my hike into Dogon country so I stocked up on bread, threw chlorine tablets into my well water, and waved off offers for a guide. Then I found another bush taxi to take me to the dirt road that serves as the Dogon "trail head". Most people will try to tell you that a guide is compulsory, but I thought I'd try my luck and ignore them. Traveling solo has its benefits! It took a while to explain that I've hiked infinitely harder trails than the flat road winding along the escarpment and that living in Niger had me accustomed to the heat. It's amazing how much they think white people can't do! Probably rightfully so as I saw groups of tourists touting bottled water and whizzing by me in 4x4s.
With Bob Dylan in my ears, I starting walking to Teli, a beautiful village that would be my first stop. I met a young guy who took me up into the cliffs where the Dogon built their villages. It is believed that the area used to be very wet and lush, so the Dogon kept their villages in the cliffs and reached them through vines that hung off the 300 foot cliffs. They were a pygmie people with a very rich animist tradition. They worshipped the crocodile for its ability to move through water and reach land and incorporated masks into many of their celebrations. Before traveling, the Dogon of Teli would visit a pool of water in the cliffs that still drips today, in order to give alms and wash themselves in preparation.
I moved on from Teli after paying 1,000 cfa (about $2US) to the village chief for the privilege of stopping by. Along my walk, I was offered a ride by some Flag beer distributors. I accepted the lift for a few kilometers and made some plans to meet up for beers in one of the upcoming villages. After reaching my destination for the night, Yaba Talu, I tossed back some Flags, had an incredibly delicious dish of chicken and sauce, and settled down in my sleeping bag on top of a mud hut for a good night sleep under a sky of stars.
I made my way out of Dogon country by hitch hiking with a madman dump truck driver who laughed each time he ran a donkey cart off the narrow road. I was relieved to arrive at the next main town and jump off his truck with my life still in tact!
The next leg of my journey went much more smoothly as I entered to calm river side city of Mopti. A major trading port on the bend of the Niger River, large boats still carry salt slabs that were hauled across the Sahara by camel caravans. A nice man gave me a tour of the city and invited me to have lunch with his family. This took me into the Old City of Mopti, a place where tourists rarely venture. Family life and structure is not much different from Niger and I felt at home with my new friends.
The next day took me to Bamako, the capital, for a few days of bar hopping and incredible live music before I flew out to Tanzania where I would spend the bulk of my vacation.
(photo index: Me in Mopti, My guide in the Teli cliffs, the Teli cliffs, the trailhead)

AIDS Bike Ride

What a spectacle! Thirty Peace Corps volunteers on bikes, lead by armed gendarmes, a motorcade of condom distributors in red vests on motorcydles and an SUV carrying a super speaker blaring American rock tunes.
This follows a long tradition of Peace Corps work in Niger where a volunteer serving as the AIDS coordinator organizes the bike ride in a different region each year, ending on December 1st, World AIDS Day. This year, World Bank and other funds allowed us to hire trained animators and actors for a week, and to travel from the cities of Gaya to Dosso, stopping in 22 villages over 140 kilometers.
Our entrance into a village was an extraordinary break from their day to day routine. Children came running, and men and women took a break from their work to form a circle around us as we danced, distributed condoms and played with the kids. Once a critical mass was achieved, the animators would take the stage by doing skits, condom demonstrations, games with T-shirts and hats as prizes, or small group discussions with men talking to men, women to women.
The message of AIDS transmission, prevention, treatment and testing options was weaved into the presentations along with promotions of girls education and compassion for AIDS victims.
Our roving camp was awoken each morning to the blaring acapella of Queens "Bicycle Race" a song that never grew old and brought us cheerfully out of our short slumber. We went to major truck stops, brothels, tiny villages, large villages and handed condoms to passing drivers on the road. Laughter, exhaustion and lots of dust accompanied us as we danced, sang and pedaled our message to over 5,000 Nigeriens.

Revised Wishlist

Hey friends! You guys have been awesome at sending some lovely and welcome comforts from home. I am totally stocked up on creamy body butter and face wash and have been able to ration my dried fruit over a few months now! I can't thank you enough for the thoughtfulness. Such simple things mean so much now, and can help put a smile on my face if my day seems unbearable and rough.

For those of you who miss me enough to share your first world wealth, the following stuff never goes to waste!

tape cassettes - all your old mixes and albums now gathering dust
velveeta (it doesn't melt!)
wasabi
dried fruit
nuts: pistacios, pine nuts, walnuts, almonds
Clif bars
sauce packets - pesto/ranch/taco
falafel/pancake/brownie/lemon bar mixes
Peanut M&Ms & Reese's Pieces (they don't melt!)
new release or movie classics burnt onto DVD
chicken in a retort pouch
beef jerky
Gatorade/EmergenC/iced tea/apple cider
rag mags - US Weekly/OK/People
news mags
maple syrup
sushi seaweed
pictures of family & friends
wife beater tank tops - all colors!
frosting in a tub

It is recommended (but not necessary) that packages be sent in Priority Mail (ground takes 6 months by boat) padded envelopes and when marking the customs declaration, don't write anything expensive in order to alleviate thievery. The USPS has stopped insuring packages to Niger because of so much tampering. Your best bet is to write "books and candy".

Kelly McNicholas
B.P. 132
Tahoua, Niger
West Africa