Walking with the Maasai by Rebecca Ford

It is the middle of the night. I am sitting outdoors on a pit toilet, while a Maasai warrior armed with a spear, stands guard nearby. I peer nervously into the inky darkness, hoping that the lion I heard earlier has moved away from our camp, and wondering just what I’d do if suddenly confronted by a luminous pair of feline eyes. A crackle in the undergrowth sends me rushing over to my guard, who escorts me back to my tent. I zip it up and climb into bed, heart pounding. A few minutes later the roar of a lion shudders through the night.

I was on an eco-safari in Kenya and every activity – even a trip to the loo – was proving to be an adventure. Our camp was in the Masai Mara, home to the Maasai people and boasting the greatest diversity of animals in Africa. Come here and you can see everything from lions and leopards to giraffes and jackals. And on an eco-trip you get as close to nature as is possible, staying in comfortable camps in the bush - rather than the luxurious bubble of large safari lodges; and walking, as well as driving, through the wilderness.

It was a 45 minute flight from Nairobi to the Masai Mara. We were met by a tall Maasai warrior, wearing traditional scarlet robes and holding a spear. He smiled and introduced himself as William our driver /guide. It was the end of the migration period, and hundreds of wildebeest were still grazing on the arid plains, their clumsy hulks mingling with the muscular frames of zebras. As we drove to Base Camp in an open Land Rover, William pointed out elegant gazelles, impala, a Secretary bird strutting slowly past, an olive baboon and a Tawny eagle flying lazily overhead. Later we saw a male ostrich, his neck and legs flushed a passionate pink, an indication he is ready to mate. It was my first trip to Africa and I was amazed at the proximity of the animals.

Eventually we reach Base Camp - 15 tents on raised platforms with verandahs, large beds, bathrooms with open- to- the -skies showers and toilets - even hot water and electricity. The toilets are simple pits, but wooden seats preserve the western conceit. Situated on land leased from the Masai, the camp is solar powered and run on sound eco lines. To my relief, it is also very comfortable. We lunch in the central lodge, a feast of fresh bread, soup, meat and vegetarian stews, and lots of fruit.

Late that afternoon we take a game drive into the National Nature Reserve (animals are most active at dawn and dusk). We quickly find jackals, hyenas, a bat eared fox, eland, impala, and a family of warthogs trotting across the plain, their tails pointing skywards like fuzzy flagpoles.

Everywhere we look there is some new creature at which to wonder. Wildebeest edge cautiously down a riverbank to drink, then charge out wildly to escape any lurking crocodiles. Birds land on thorn trees like animated jewels, while vultures circle in the distance – avian testimony to some recent drama. It all fascinates me.

Then we find a lioness and three young cubs. She is trying to lead them across a stream to join others in her pride, but while two follow, another sits looking dismally at the water. She growls encouragement, but refuses to go back. It is five minutes before he plucks up the courage to splash across. His mother rewards him with generous licks of her thick pink tongue.

I hardly sleep that night, a mix of excitement and elephants tramping noisily in the nearby river. We rise at six, and after coffee and biscuits, set off for another game drive. We are already blasé about the wildebeest and zebra, but squeal at a giraffe with a baby, still wet and wobbly from its recent birth. Then we find some elephants. They also have a tiny baby in tow, but have no intention of letting us near and vanish into some scrub. But we find more, and observe them until a large male suddenly faces our vehicle and widens his ears as if preparing to charge. We drive on.

That evening we transfer to our Bush Camp. After trying our hand at spear throwing – which the Maasai find immensely amusing - we eat delicious bean stew, then all sit round the fire, swapping stories in the gloom. Night brings the bush to life, and I hardly sleep again, ears alert to every rustle.

At dawn we set off on our first bush walk, accompanied by three Maasai: Daniel and Amos, who carry spears; and Ndorobo, (‘the hunter’) an ex poacher and expert bushman, who is armed with a bow and arrows. No-one has a gun. Amos tells us the rules. If we meet a lion - stand close together, to look like one large animal. If we meet buffalo, climb a tree (I groan inwardly, I don’t do agile) or lie face down. As for elephants, we’ll keep well away, walking downwind as soon as the Maasai spot them – elephants have poor eyesight but an excellent sense of smell. Above all, we mustn’t run. I feel increasingly nervous. What was that – lie down for lions? No, that was buffalo. What if we meet a long-sighted elephant? And what if my legs panic and run away before I can stop them?

We set off, Daniel and Ndorobo out in front. As we walk I see impala and Thompson’s gazelle, but whereas in the Land Rover they would have ignored us, now they scatter hurriedly. On foot we are just another creature of the plains. Then the Maasai spot three lionesses and several cubs in the distance.My legs wobble. We could fend off one lion – but three? We change direction and slip away. I start to imagine buffalo in every bush and hope desperately that we meet nothing larger than a warthog.

We find an ‘olpul’ a fenced camp used by young Maasai warriors who live for months alone in the bush, practising skills like spear throwing - and hunting lions. They show me acacia trees that are used to aid digestion, and we come across a fresh kill. I still feel scared, but the beauty of walking is that you see the small things. It is the best way of getting to understand a landscape.

Eventually we return to camp, and breakfast on fresh bread, beans, bananas and rich brown coffee. I shower, then laze outside my tent reading. After lunch the others leave and I am alone with the Maasai. We are due to have an evening walk. I want to go, but feel my courage failing. I request a walk in which I meet nothing bigger than say, a mongoose. They say they’ll try – but there are no guarantees in this wilderness.

We walk slowly, talking about their uses for trees and plants, like the African greenheart tree, the roots and bark of which contain quinine and are used to cure malaria. I find an arrow head, and we examine large, fibrous mounds of elephant dung, dainty gazelle droppings, and chalky hyena droppings – coloured by the calcium in the bones they consume.

Suddenly we stop. Daniel and Ndorobo point to some scrub about a hundred yards away. They shout and I catch the word ‘simba’ - Swahili for lion. Daniel and Ndorobo race forwards, shouting and waving their spears. An enormous male lion stands up, opens his mouth and roars. With impressive speed I dart behind Amos. The lion roars again, then turns tail and lollops into the bush. I do a cartoon character gulp and note with interest the sound of my heart pounding wildly in my ears. But, as we return to camp in the cool of the evening, I realise that I can’t wait to do it again.