It is amazingly quiet in the bush. The dominant sounds are our breaths and the snapping of twigs and leaves beneath our weight. We are making way through deeper brush and bramble and Jeffrey is kind enough to hold back the larger branches that block our path. Constantly, the landscape changes, some areas so thick with vegetation it is more reflective of dense forest than bush or plain. Dark, smelling of damp, fecund earth, and soft underfoot, the forest pockets are suddenly a play of light and ominous shadow, dancing through limbs, lurking behind trunks, then out again into full, bright sunlight and open ground, arid, cracked and solid.
There is nothing on earth that can compare to being on foot in and at one with the wild, no barrier or safety net, no metal vehicle between you and what roams free. Your senses become highly sensitive, acute, the heart pounds faster and louder, and the initial fear of the unknown, of danger, unfolds into a deeper sense of trust and letting go. Like most things in life, you cannot control nature, what is wild. And when you give in to that reality, put your faith not only in your guide and askari but also in something higher – the spirit of Africa, of nature – a lovely dichotomy of exhilaration and calm prevails, a spiritual connection to all living things.
And as quickly as my sense of calm envelopes, a sudden crunch and reverberating rumble in nearby bush breaks the peaceful silence. Instantly, Epateti motions Jeffrey and me to move back – FAST! Do not run, but move without wasting any time! Jeffrey grabs my arm and quietly pulls me back a few meters and closer to a bushy area for cover. If I were not already anxious, seeing Jeffrey’s expression makes me all the more concerned. Noiselessly, Epateti backs up in our direction, moving away from the sounds. His gun is aimed and rigid should the massive elephant decide to charge. My heart racing, I await Epateti’s signal to once again move forward. It is safe now. The elephant has moved on, back into the thick cover of bush.
I am acutely aware that my surroundings offer little safety of cover. Where we stand, on this stretch of wild, there are few trees. Only low bush and scrub, wild sage and a handful of fragile looking trees which would snap like brittle twigs during an elephant charge. Silently, we move farther into the bush and again stop, move back, and stay still so as not to alarm the small elephant family browsing just a few meters away. The tiny herd consists of five adult members and one calf approximately two to three years old. We watch them watching us, they relax a bit, recognizing our presence, and continue to browse.
Not far ahead Epateti grabs my hand and pulls me toward an opening in the earth. He has spotted a hyena den and at that very moment, a large male hyena pokes its head from the hole. Perhaps he felt our footsteps, the rumblings of the earth, and instantly it scrambles from the hole and into the cover of thicket.
It is getting hotter and the heat of the sun brings a sudden heaviness of odor to the air. Jeffrey and Epateti lead me to the remains of a young bull elephant, perhaps twelve or so years old. It has recently died of what appears to be natural causes. The carcass is nearly picked clean, only a few rib bones, the immense skull, and brain remnants are left. A single chunk of skin lies near a rib bone. It has been eaten by lion and hyena then picked over by vultures and other scavengers. The few decomposing parts along with liquid remains dampening the earth reek of a putrid smell that is nearly unbearable.
We continue our trek above miles of the Great Rift Valley, upwards through dense brush and vast open spaces of tall yellow grasses, perfect hiding places for lion, leopard and cheetah. These high points reveal a magnificent landscape, an unbroken tapestry of rolling hills and plains, shades of lush greens and pale golds. Epateti has been silent for some time. Now he would like to talk. As we rest along a ridgeline and silently marvel at the pristine beauty, he reveals a painful chapter of his life, through Jeffrey, and to me.
Epateti has two wives and seven children. He is fifty-two years old. Both Jeffrey and I are surprised to hear that he is so young. He has endured much in those five decades and it can be read across his worn face. Epateti lost an earlier family. His wife was murdered in their home around 1983, he says. His children too, killed by the bandits who stole the manyatta’s (village) cattle and murdered other families as well. Nearly forty years working with the Kenyan Wildlife Service also took its toll and he was shot at numerous times during his duty with the anti-poaching patrol.
Epateti’s life has been a difficult one – one of grief and hardship – words he does not use but are evident in his dark eyes and the deep crevices of his face. I nod that I understand and tell him how very sorry I am for the loss of his family. I tell him that I lost my husband too, just a year ago, and I know of the profound sadness. Epateti shakes his head and quietly offers, “pole, pole,” I am sorry, very sorry. His words are heartfelt and his kind face reveals an understanding that can only be shared in its true depth with another who has experienced a similar loss.
The sun is moving lower in the sky and we have been on foot for hours now. Jeffrey’s enthusiasm has not yet faded and he is determined to continue my education of the bush. He tears a small branch off a wild sage bush and gives it to me to use as a fly swatter. He tells me that the sage plant, wild leleshwa, is important for four things: the leaves are harvested for their rich, aromatic oils, and the rest of the plant is used for making bowls or for firewood, as well as harvested for coal production. Much of the land on this reserve is covered with wild leleshwa and I have had the pleasure of bathing in its fragrant, emerald green oil.
Next, I am shown different wild flowers to chew on if I run out of water while in the bush. Then he snips a delicate, soft blue flower and squeezes a small drop into the palm of my hand. The blossom yields a clear, oily liquid that is a natural eyedrop and lubricant. Epateti breaks off a different specimen that works as a potent laxative, while another nearby plant is used by locals to treat prostate cancer. Some berries are extremely poisonous if eaten unripe, but when fully ripened are highly nutritious. I am surrounded by plants, trees, flowers and berries that offer invaluable gifts in the forms of necessities for survival as well as natural remedies - a veritable pharmacy in the middle of the African bush.
We are nearing the end of our walking safari and after five hours, we have covered more than twenty-two miles of dense bush and open plain. We are hot and tired and decide to take one last rest before heading back to camp. We sit beneath a thorn tree offering dappled shade from the still burning sun and sip water from Jeffrey’s canteen. Epateti talks about his days with the KWS and, for dramatic effect, rolls up a pant leg to reveal the scars and depressions in his leg from poacher’s bullets. After his stories are told and bullet wounds revealed, Epateti offers one last gift. He sees something beneath a small tree and is very excited about the find. Do I want it? “It is a giant mushroom,” Jeffrey tells me.
We walk to a diminutive tree offering shade to one gargantuan mushroom, a single fungus the size of a small parasol. Epateti is determined that I have this wonderful delicacy and with some effort, pulls the giant mushroom from the dirt, shakes it off and hands me the lovely gift. “Are you sure you don’t want it?” Jeffrey translates for me - “you keep it, Mzee Epateti.” But Epateti would not have it, insisting rather that I bring it back to camp and ask Mzee Christopher to prepare it for my evening dinner. “It is a good mushroom,” he says, “a delicious mushroom.” “Asante sana, Mzee.” Thank you. We head back, the prehistoric-like mushroom held above my head as a mini parasol and blocking the sun – a motion that Epateti finds very amusing and as usual, he smiles broadly, his eyes dancing at the sight of a mushroom umbrella.
Along with a handful of other delectable dishes, Mzee Christopher, the incredible cook at the research center, has prepared the mammoth mushroom with olive oil and garlic and a few secret herbs and spices. There is enough for four of us at dinner, with leftovers. It is simply delicious, perhaps more so because it was a gift, handpicked in the wild by my friend, Epateti.
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