Fly to Masai Mara, Fly to Adventure
“Thank you Urbema, you made Naivasha worth my while.” That was my parting shot to a review on Urbema safaris about a month ago. I had never contracted any travel services prior but when the urge to have a lone time and the logic to make good rest of my annual leave synced, my antenna rose to a search; a scan like of the African praying mantis on dry thunderstruck baobab trees in the savanna. Adventures and presumed nature desire that inspired a synergy between me, Uberma Safaris and Enashipai resort & SPA (Naivasha destination for Uberma) and a priority leisure haven in the region.
While considering Naivasha as a destination for my 3 days and two nights laze, Bernard Orero, a tour and travels adviser at Urbema mentioned some of the magical mysteries and sceneries to expect in this historic part of the Great Rift Valley.
Like other safari agencies, it’s easy to assume that he bluffed about the tall brazen giraffes nibbling from sprouts of buds of the scarce apricot trees, or that he brushed off savory stories of mature zebra’s wobbly butt that swirl in the sun scorched Savannah or perhaps he mentioned in haste the swift gallopy gazelles grazing in haze on the dry Naivasha fields. Or maybe he took a second to talk about the sulky baboons edging on two limbs to what should be the slowest evolution of the century, but forgot to talk about a mystery as unfathomable as hell’s gate.
Try to assume that he is a witch not right for travel advisory jobs or worst, an alchemist and his scry reveals to us beastly buffaloes drooling with disgusting flows of mucus on their stiff ugly noses; but deliberately skips the mention of Lake Naivasha. (Because who on earth doesn’t know that Lake Naivasha would be in Naivasha anyway), hugged at shores by huge twirled grass and guarded by at bay by crows of cacti and sand olive trees?
Don’t mind my use of easy words like assume, mentioned in haste or fast-forward; Oreo is the best at his job. He mentioned everything I’ve scribbled in details. Not in a spoiler alert kind of way but for preparations and general information. And afterwards, the drive to the park proved great, with the huge man, Tim, the tour guide who made prompt stops to explain sceneries and rifts and cultures and vernacular names for stuff. And I felt the gist unfurl the memories earlier staged on my mind came to life. Some to statues of reality like rocks and hills, others to a copy paste of inimitable imaginations, like paintings on fields. Only I used my mind as the diskette.
For tours, Naivasha is magical, a wonder at its best. Albeit someone who knows me well will sneer to that statement and acclaim, woi! Wonder he said? (The chap who’s never been to the Mara to witness the great migration or to the statue of Zeus at Olympia to marvel at the creator of creations created. And there he goes, calling Naivasha a wonder?)
But I mean, that’s just about why I brought the topic – to talk about our next trip – Mara plains – the great migration. Rings a bell?
I know you’ve always wanted to be part of the plot since Childhood. Here’s your chance.
Imagine being in a place as high end as the Sarova Mara Camp in July (Google it), when a zebra hops into Mara fields, then another and another then the dark skinned one. Not the Masais/Samburus, I mean the brown freckled one. Not the dik dik, not the pride. I mean the ones with stiff mane hair at the back of their neck, the wildebeest.
They continue to flock until they are two million animals masking the green fields with a natural smell of hide and decay and spread warmth of nakedness and debris that linger the hot air. And boo! boo! boo! Sighs of their relief and the buff! buff! thump of their heels on the refreshing earth.
Put yourself on top of a safari van with your family and friends and a couple of strangers who have become your buddies for the love of nature; for the thrill of sharing a view of hungry pride pounce on a limping wildebeest and of crocodiles preying on animals that cross the Mara river. These are some of the epic scenes that the BBC wildlife and other channels scramble to covers for their home viewership from a van that lurks yours.
My best guess is that you’ll view the action again but this time on TV because you consider yourself a nature kind of guy who gets goose bumps at geese and seals slapped by heavy waves – when they forget to slow or dodge the wrinkly ridges of murky seas. You’re the curious guy who wants to see cats get intimate so you are always on the lookout. Plus you want to see yourself on TV, on that clip which chances are, you never may but I encourage you to keep watching.
Your “buddy” Suleiman will be in a far away country where he came from, Malaysia, the UK or is it Australia he said? The difference will be the same but the stand out difference between you and other viewers will remain, you watching the scene over but with a clear memory of the unedited piece.
You will remember your well upholstered “buddy’s” pink nose and wrinkled cheeks and big belly and he will remember your fake British accent and your parrot kid.
Tit for tat the end game.
Only he will make this fair by not mentioning any of these to anyone because you were a statesman. You taught him what ‘Jambo’ means. And he asked what Kenya Hakuna Matata means and you smiled and fumbled with words to end up saying, “In Kenya there is no problem, there is no Matata, there are no worries.” And he smiled back and nodded to what you thought was an appreciation. Only his nod was for the joke being on your fellow countrymen.
Your memory will be vivid with the stamped that the lionesses caused as the rest of the animals flocked to one direction to escape throttle and slaughter by claws. The smell of dust and the ghoulish stench of two fat hyenas waiting so close to gulp the feast from the king’s claws will remain fresh in your mind. Some hungry vultures at bay will be in your unedited scene; you’ll still remember hawks flying above the fleets alongside other birds of ticks and meat. The bruised grass and the pool of blood to which the slain beast lay will be your rekindled memory. Is that good enough? Now that’s what you get from visiting the Mara at peak periods – relaxation, relish and thrill.
You’ll get value for your money. You get to be in the middle of the action with wildlife safari drives along bumpy and dusty roads. Our natural habitat roads. And when you retire to settle your owing, a plethora of activities and experiences will still await.
They will include but will not limited to a luxury tented living, an insight into the Masai culture at the adjoining Masai village, sports fishing, mini golf and not to forget that in the morning you’ll have a breathtaking view of the Mara plains (which is not contingent to the corner tent because all these executive Mara tents will have the best views)
After that nature talk I’m convinced you’ve cleared your schedule for a visit over the year. No worries, no hurries, let’s make sure you get the best of what you hope for. To clear the air on prices though, tours are not expensive neither is travel. I know your next question would then be what makes a tour worth a while?
To which I’d gladly mail back and say,
The best travel agent, the best package and a flexible payment plan. I doubt you knew that for only 297/= a day for 10 months you could be in the Mara camp enjoying the luxury that comes with it. For residents
- A return flight
- Two nights full board accommodation
- Return airstrip transfers
- Four game drives
- One culture village visit
- Park fee
- One garden breakfast with bubbly (I’m not sure who that is but he must be a white man smelling of Bvlgari Aqua with a twitched moustache like Charlie Chaplin’s) go to the Mara and find out.
For more insights on tours and travel deals with Uberma safaris, click here to book. Afterwards the tour guide/driver, Tim, the fat man, the coolest driver I know and you will attest to it if you make your mind about coming; should pick us from a designated place in the CBD.(“Us” because I’ll be in the July plan with my chirpy daughter Maya). Tim will drive us to the airport for a flight from the city to the park. And I promise. I won’t talk about your thumped up nose or your husband’s phobia of heights if you don’t mention my sloped head or my third and fourth eyes.
That’s a pinky swear and as the saying goes, “Never break a pinky swear”
But I mean, how much fun can it be without all that? Come find out. Twende Mara 2018.