Until Northern Kenya, my experiences in Africa were along the lines of what I expected. It was moving: the beauty, the poverty, the shifts in perspective. The journey into Northern Kenya has been an experience on another dimension. Something beyond what I imagined or expected. An experience I will reflect on for the rest of my life. It was a 16 day journey of many journeys. This post is just to provide perspective on the big picture. In future posts I’ll dive into the stories that bring it to life.
In planning our time in Africa, I knew we wanted to do some of it on our own, and take the opportunity to go farther and deeper to places that would only be accessible to us with a guide. My high school exchange partner, dear friend and world traveler, Sophie, recommended a French outfitter that has taken her family on African camping adventures deep in the bush. I remember telling the outfitter we wanted to go to remote places and off the beaten path. Little did I know how remote you can get in far north Kenya. In fact, the word remote has taken on new meaning to me … and this is coming from a woman who spent a couple of years working in the Arctic on the North Slope of Alaska!!! I had almost no idea what we were getting into. I said to a friend it’s a good thing we’re a tough family, because this was not a journey for the faint of heart. It was tougher and more adventurous than I had imagined. Luckily that is the stuff of my dreams.

The signs that we were heading into deepest Africa emerged after we left the Ol Pejeta Conservancy. For one, we never saw a paved road again until the end of our journey. We traveled on gravel roads that I would describe as gnarly, very gnarly and occasionally extremely gnarly. We would travel for hours and hours and hours on these roads, often just us and the land. We saw few other cars for more than a week. Definitely zero other tourists or white people. Zero. But occasionally while driving, out of nowhere, we would see the most stunning sights like a shepherd with a stick, wearing a pair of sandals made from tires and a blanket on his back, or a small group of women with stacks of long, long firewood, rolled and sitting on their heads, or huge loads resting on their back and strapped to their forehead, kids with clothes so old you weren’t sure where the holes ended and the garment began, and tribes people with equally tattered clothing, and the most majestic jewelry on their wrists, foreheads, ears, necks and ankles. Remarkably everywhere we went there were Laker shirts. Not a single other sport or team was represented. All Lakers all the time.
But the real impact came when we stopped driving. When we had rare opportunities to spend time in villages with tribes people from the Turkana, El Molo, Samburu and Rendille tribes. We hiked, camped and ate with them. We had a window into their way of life that we would ignorantly call primitive, and their otherworldly connection to each other, the land, the plants and the animals. It is clear that so much of our modern day self-help is an effort to reclaim the original roots of our humanity.

It was a journey that gave us a lot to think about.
I remember being sad leaving Bellver. But I also remember distinctly feeling that we had to leave to have new experiences. It somehow reminded me of the impermanence of all things, and the importance of discomfort in life. I used to think about it in a linear way, transiting from the comfort zone to discomfort to panic. Staying in Bellver would have been so comfortable. In the western world, we spend a lot of time in the comfort zone, which can be lovely, but it’s not a place of learning and growth. Africa and Kenya in particular has made me think a lot about the relationship between comfort and experience almost in a two dimensional space (geeky but true). There are a lot of incredible life experiences that are only accessible to us if we dial comfort way down low. This was one of them.

About twelve days into the journey it dawned on me that the description of the trip wasn’t just written in French, but with a French perspective and sensibility. Journeys can be described in many different ways, through the eye of the beholder. It described in flourishing details the beauty of it all - the land, the people, the tribes, the water, and the animals in a faraway special place. There was no American dramatic sensationalism layered on. We did not read: “Maybe the toughest journey a young family can take. You will explore some of the remotest regions of Kenya. The conditions will challenge you - from the heat to camping near crocs (not the shoes) and hiking through the densest bush where elephants live. We expect you to be tough. We’re not holding your hand. You’ll need to rise and do hard things, like maybe wait for dinner when you’re starving. Abandon your creature comforts and experience the deepest Africa. You won’t see other cars for hours and hours and sometimes days. There are no tourists where you’re going: the roads are too rough and there’s only one guy who can get foreigners safely into this terrain - your guide. He has spent nearly 30 years exploring, backpacking on foot and cultivating relationships in the deepest bush of Africa with regional tribes. He realized his childhood dream so you can create memories of a lifetime”. Absolutely none of this was said, but it could have been.
At times I felt like I’d signed up for a 10km family run and at mile 6 realized it was a half marathon and at mile 13 realized it was a full marathon and at mile 26 realized there were 2 more miles to go. Of course it’s an imperfect analogy but it gives you the feeling. The challenges were from the discomfort of heat, dirt, endless grime, tough conditions, being active in the heat and bumpy long drives. Luckily few bugs. I loved it. We all loved it. Very proud of the kids.

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