Bonamanzi, Richard's Bay, South Africa

 March 29, 2025

"Manzi" means "Good water" in the Zulu language 

Today, giddy with excitement, we went on our first game drive of this cruise. It started with a two hour bus ride to Bonamanzi Park, a private 8000 hectare reserve. They boast populations of 4 of the Big Five--elephants, rhinos, water buffalo, and elusive leopards. Only lions are missing here. 

For the drive itself, we boarded these open air 11 person trucks. The DH & I snagged the back row which was the most elevated of the seating. It was also the highest to climb into and out of using the built-in ladders on the sides of the vehicle. More about that later...

Three separate trucks drove out into the bush. Ours was last, so our driver tried to avoid taking the same dirt tracks as the other vehicles. Can't really call them roads. They follow the contours of the land, tipping us to crazy angles, dashing through running streams, and sending us temporarily airborn over unexpected bumps. (The excursion was not recommended for people with mobility issues, back or neck problems. Needless to say, we held on tight.) It worked out well for us to strike off in another direction because otherwise, the game might have fled by the time we came up in third place.

This handsome fellow is an impala buck. He's young so he only has a little family of 3 to watch over. The bigger older boys can have their own herds of females, provided they can fight hard enough to keep them. 

Our guide told us they call impalas "McDonalds" because of the distinctive black arches on their hind quarters. And yes, we saw a McDonalds restaurant in the town of Richard's Bay. They really are the unofficial American embassy all over the world. 

One thing is a must for a game drive. Keeping quiet. The animals seemed not to pay attention to the sound of the truck motor, but a loud human voice will disperse an entire herd. Unfortunately, we had one person with a particularly piercing voice who couldn't understand that. She called out in excitement whenever she saw something, exclaiming how cute the creature was and how she wanted to take them back to the ship. She sent a trio of warthogs high-tailing into the bush too fast for us to snap a photo. A word from the driver didn't deter her. It took several other passengers telling her she was too loud to finally pound in the message.

That said, we were encouraged to quietly say when we thought we saw something. The trouble is...anything could almost look like something and still be a dreamed up wish fulfillment. As we were passing through a plain of tall grasses, a dark shape caught my eye. It sat still as stone as the wheat colored shafts undulated around it. The shape revealed itself in increments while the grasses moved. As my mind knitted together the bits and pieces, it seemed "catlike" in its outline and watchful posture. 

Denise, the woman seated directly in front of me, turned and looked back at me wide-eyed. "Did you see that?" 

I nodded. Maybe it wasn't just a trick of light and wish fulfillment. We were too far past it to give a general alert to the driver, but we are both convinced we glimpsed a leopard and learned first hand why they are called "shadow cats."

Pretty girl, isn't she?

Our driver told us the giraffe babies recognize their mommas by the specific reticulated pattern on their bodies. Females have more of a sloped back than males. Also, males tend to loose the tufts of hair on their spiky head fighting with other males over ... what else?... females. Those aren't horns. They are protuberances that grow from their skulls and are covered with hide and hair.  

There were four water buffalo lounging in this watering hole. Our guide told us these were the "league of losers," a quartet of bachelors who are either too old or too weak to command a harem of females. So they hang out together here to soak and rub off ticks on the trees instead of hiding in their momma's basement playing "Dungeons and Dragons."

Then our driver left the tracks and took us over the short cropped grass into a glen of yellow-barked "fever trees." There were five white rhinos calming having a late afternoon munch. 

The park cuts the horns off the males to protect them from poaching and also from killing or injuring each other in the craziness of season. Against all reason, there is still a market in China for the horns. 

Rhinos are formidable creatures, massive and impressive in their primitive brutishness. My heart lurched a bit when one of the big males turned and took a step toward our truck. Then he was distracted by the approach of another male. When it began to look as if we might witness a head butt, a branch fell from a nearby fever tree and startled them both into retreating back into the forest. 

It occurred to me that they were a little like horses, big and powerful, but at heart rather fearful and always on the lookout for possible predators. They'll stand and fight if needs be, but flight is always preferable.

We chalked up a long list of sightings--nyalas, impalas, warthogs, monkeys, zebra, wildebeasts, giraffe, rhinos, and lots of birds. The DH's photo montage will share more of our experience. It was a wonderful day.

Twilight doesn't last long here, so our driver hurried us back to the lodge when the light began to slant over the landscape.

But our day was not yet over. I was mulling over the idea that we Viking guests are a little like the herds of prey animals we'd been observing, being shepherded around by our guides and drivers (our sheep dogs!). Unfortunately, even with all the care in the world, occasionally, one of the herd gets picked off. 

 

Back at the reserve's lodge, as I was climbing down from our perch, a blur of movement from the truck behind ours caught the tail of my eye. A woman had fallen from the last row of her truck, struck the ground hard and then didn't move. 

Her husband wasn't on this excursion with her, but people who knew her gathered around her prone form. We boarded our waiting bus to be out of the way as the tour operators and our Viking escort took control of the situation. 

Night falls swiftly in these latitudes. It was full dark by the time our guide joined us on the bus. The Viking escort stayed behind with our wounded shipmate to wait for an ambulance to transport her to the nearest (?) hospital.  We began the sober two hour trip back to our ship, quietly thinking and praying for our fellow traveler. 

It could've happened to any of us. A moment's inattention, bad luck, a missed step...we're all just one accident away from a trip-ending outcome. Or worse.

But that doesn't make me want to stop traveling. Accidents happen, and most often do, in our own homes. So we'll just keep living according to Goofy's motto:

"I'm brave, but I'm careful."

Maputo, Mozambique

 Mar, 28, 2025

"He who rules over men must be just..." 2 Samuel 23:3a

This morning the Sky cruised in to Maputo's deep natural harbor, one of the valuable rarities in eastern Africa. The DH was standing on the balcony and he heard shouting coming from the area not far from our berth, near where there's derelict train station. It's a relic from the days of Portuguese colonization, notable for it's heavy ornate iron dome. 

Later, we wondered if he was hearing some of the unrest that's been boiling in Mozambique's capital recently. In fact, one of our friends onboard told us that 2 protestors were killed here five days ago. The US government ranks the country risk as a "3," which translates to "reconsider travel." 

We've been listening to several lectures by the Viking enrichment team and they all tell the same sad story we've been hearing since we reached Africa. First, they explore the ancient history of the area, the tribalism and lack of contact with the outside world which resulted in stunted technological and cultural development. Then comes the successive periods of foreign powers coming to exploit the wealth of the land and often staying to colonize while subjugating the local populace. 

In the 1960's, Mozambique went to war to free itself from Portugal. They weren't declared independent until 1975 when it simply became too expensive for the Portuguese to continue to fight. Then, though released from servitude to a foreign power, factions within Mozambique launched a bloody civil war that lasted until 1992. Then there was another multi-year civil war that only ended in 2015. In fact, there is yet another armed conflict raging in the northernmost part of the country. (Maputo is located in the southern tip of the country, well away from that danger, but still...)

The last link of this sad chain of events is corruption of the current government, which was ostensibly voted in democratically. Mozambique should be a wealthy country. They have ample natural resources--natural gas, minerals, plenty of arable land, ample fresh water, abundant wildlife (though none of the national parks and preserves are close enough for us to visit from Maputo), and beautiful architecture in their capital (though strangely, none of the Viking excursions would take us to see them.) 

Yet Mozambique falls fifth from the bottom in the Human Development Index list. Life expectancy is only 59. Most of the population lives on less than $2.00 a day. Government corruption is epidemic in Africa and Mozambique is the composite poster child for those who are victimized by the very institution that is supposed to make their lives better. Money flows into this country by the bushel as the natural wealth flows out, without any of it trickling down to the population. It lines the pockets of the ruling elite. 

I have a severe case of FOMO. I'm always afraid of missing out on something. (My dad had a colorful way of describing this particular malady of mine, but I won't share it here. My sisters will remember what I mean...) So it was really hard for me to suggest to the DH that we remain on board the Sky today. 

Part of it was because we weren't going to see anything of significance on the included excursion except a couple of markets. I'm the Anti-Shopper, remember, so this sounds a little like the 9th circle of hell to me. And another reason to stay aboard was that we were strongly discouraged from walking off the ship and exploring on our own. It's simply not safe. We tend to stand out as easy targets. 

And finally, another reason is that I'm fighting a sinus/sore throat issue and it's making me feel really drained of energy. Tomorrow, we have a 7 hour safari in Bonamanzi Game Reserve from Richard's Bay, South Africa.  It's a chance for us to see 4 of the Big Five (leopards, elephants, rhinos, & water buffalo--only lions are missing).

So, I'm being lazy today, resting and drinking plenty of fluids. I'm excited about our excursion tomorrow and the chance to see some of the continent's famous wildlife. 

But probably the biggest reason we've called a "private sea day," is that my heart will not let me see what I know is waiting on shore. The scenes of desperate poverty in Madagascar are etched on my psyche so deeply, helpless tears spring to my eyes. 

I don't want to see more things I can't unsee.         

Nosy Be, Madagascar

March 24, 2025

"I don't make myself sad. I don't make anyone else sad. If I have nothing to give, I give with my heart." ~ Wilfrid, our guide for the Village of Dzamandzar, Nosy Be (pronounced "No-see Bay. Don't ask me how to pronounce the village name)

We tied up opposite the town of Andoany (formerly known as "Hell-Ville") at about 8 in the morning. Our excursion didn't leave for the island by tender until after lunch. I wish we could've gotten earlier excursions, but it hasn't worked out that way for us this time. It's still as hot as our equatorial ports of call, but we are farther south from that imaginary line now. 

I wish we'd taken a longer excursion so we could've seen some of the island's famous lemurs and other wildlife, but those options were sold out by the time we were allowed to book something. So instead, we were going to be visiting a village, sort of like the recreated homes of different tribes we saw in Kenya, I thought. It was touted as a cultural look at a market with artisanal crafts. 

There is a thin line between tourism and voyeurism. This excursion dragged me across that line. It became immediately obvious that we weren't in a village. We'd been invited to take a walk through a slum, as if the people who live and work there were a source of entertainment. I felt like I was invading their space. 

I'm not naive. I know poverty is as endemic here in Madagascar as lemurs. The average person lives on the equivalent of $2.00 a day. If you want to eat beef, you'll likely splurge on a cow shin with the hoof still attached. Fish of dubious freshness was offered for sale. Other meat of unknown provenance was being ground up in open air that swarmed with flies. Beans of several different types were probably the most wholesome looking thing available. (But I schooled my face into "no expression." Food is food in this part of the world and not to be derided.)  There's no running water, no electricity, no windowpanes in the shanties. Some had no doors. 

When I asked why there were so many children running about the muddy streets on a school day, our guide told us that parents must pay for their children to attend school--even public school. However, they could be worse off. 50% of the workers down in the mines of gems and other precious metals with which the island is blessed, are women or children between the ages of 5 and 12.

The trouble, according to our onboard lecturers, can be laid at the feet of governmental corruption and mismanagement of resources. The mainland of Madagascar, which we did not see, could be an eco-tourism paradise but the government is selling off the rainforest at an alarming rate. (Random fact: When you think of the island of Madagascar, think of an island that would stretch from Savannah, Georgia to the Great Lakes.) But the natural wealth of the country is not being used to benefit its citizens. 

When I asked what sort of jobs were available, our guide had trouble with the question. He just said everybody works, but not at something with a guaranteed paycheck. Things we would consider a "side hustle" are their main source of support. He's happy if he gets a chance to be a guide a couple of times a week. 

But even with all that, we didn't see anyone begging, like we did in Mombasa. 

Other than my dismay at the seemingly insurmountable problems the island's residence face, I realized there was something else niggling at me. There was a personal reason why I was offended on their behalf by having a bunch of weird tourists trapsing through their neighborhood. 

As usual, if a feeling borders on "hysterical," it's likely "historical."

Poverty is highly subjective in the USA. My mom was raised in a farmhouse with no running water. In fact, I remember as a child how excited everyone was when my grandparents finally got an inside bathroom. But they didn't feel poor. It was how things were back then. 

When I was a kid, I'd have to describe us as lower middle class. My parents rented the house where we lived, but mom planted flowers around it as if it was her own. She made all our clothes. She took empty cereal boxes and cut out little "horses," that looked more like donkey's,  for my sister and me to play with. I thought she was the cleverest mom on the planet. When skateboards became popular, my dad took two-by-fours, cut them to the appropriate length and attached a skate (the kind you used to attach to your shoes, so it extended long enough to come completely apart.) to the bottom of the boards. We were tickled to pieces, and developed incredible balance with them! 

We didn't feel poor.    

Later, my parents were able to buy a house and we moved. When I was a teenager, we attended a church which in retrospect was more of a country club than a worship fellowship. One Sunday, our class was loaded up into a van and we were taken on a tour of "less advantaged neighborhoods."  

We drove past the house my family used to live in. 

"Oh, dear." "How sad." "You'd think they could do better." The people in the van didn't have an idea of how to help "the less fortunate." I didn't even hear that they wished they could. 

I wanted to scream.  

As we walked through Dzamandzar, that old memory bubbled up in my mind. Along with all the feelings that came with it. And here I was, this time in the role of those other folks in the van "tut-tutting" and feeling hopeless without a clue about what I should do about what I was seeing.

I don't mean to equate my less-than-affluent upbringing with the grinding poverty we saw in Madagascar. There's really no comparison. But the children who smiled at us and "fist-bumped" with me were clean and didn't look malnourished. Like my sisters and me, they have no idea they are "disadvantaged." Love and family counts for more than a lot of the things we tend to think are important. 

But the difference is that their future is not as full of promise as mine was. There doesn't seem to be a structure in their society that allows them to better their lot. The lack of free public education stands out starkly to me. 

However, we are long past the old imperialism that made European powers think they could transplant their culture everywhere in the world. I'm still not sure what, if anything, I can do. 

But I will think of those children, and look for something...

~~~

CLOSE ENCOUNTER OF THE ANIMALIA KIND!

I didn't see any of Madagascar's famous animals, but I did meet one of its non-human residents. On our way back to the ship, I felt something under my pant leg brush against my calf. I dismissed it at first, thinking I'd imagined it, but then I felt it again, this time up near my knee. I grabbed the moving bump between two fingers and yanked up my pant leg to pull it out with my other hand. Then I dropped it on the van floor between my feet.

It was a small lizard, about 2 1/2 - 3 inches long, tail and all. It must have been a chameleon because it was the exact shade of beige as my pants!   

It wasn't moving and I was afraid I had squeezed it too hard and killed it. So I took a tissue from my pocket to pick it up. When it saw the white thing coming toward it, it sprang to life, skittered away and disappeared into a hole under the dash. 

Some of the other ladies in the van said they were surprised I didn't scream. 

I used to tell my daughters, "No screaming... unless the house is on fire or there's blood. Lots of blood." 

However, if I'd pulled something out of my pants that had more than four legs, I'd still be screaming. (What a bundle of contradictions and discrepancies I am!)

Tamarind Dhow Cruise

 March 21, 2025

"Until you dig a hole, you plant a tree, you water it and make it survive, you haven't done a thing. You are just talking." ~ Wangari Maathai, Kenyan author

On our last day in Kenya, we boarded a small craft for a leisurely river cruise around the island where Mombasa is located. While we sailed around, we were serenaded by the Twinstar Band, a very tasty ensemble with a talented stylist for their lead vocalist, a good guitarist and "dirty bone" saxophone player. I thoroughly enjoyed them while we ate lunch on board with our friends Jerry and Heidi, and our new friend, Jean. We had a choice of either steak or seafood. (Since the seafood came with eyes intact, I was glad to have asked for beef!) 

It was an altogether refreshing and decadently pleasurable time.

We saw Ft. Jesus, which we had toured, from the water. Even though it's more than 500 years old, it's still an imposing edifice. We also saw how the wealthy in Mombasa live. Their homes and resorts are stretched along lovely beaches. 

Of course, often there will be a miserable shantie squatting nearby along the water's edge. You'll see photos of some of them in the DH's montage. The contrast between have's and have not's is stark. One of our guides told us 80% of the residents of Mombasa must choose between a home/apartment with water or with electricity. They likely can't afford both. 

And some can afford neither. 

Before we left for this trip, I watched an informative talk by Thomas Sowell about why Africa has been slow in development compared to the rest of the world. It has huge mineral wealth and amazing biodiversity. Africa is second to Asia in population, so they are blessed with a young average workforce. Our guides have all been articulate and clearly blessed with bright and thoughtful minds. I'm sure they are not in the minority. 

So why has Africa lagged behind every other continent on the planet?

Sowell blames geography. Africa has 16,000 miles of coastline, but very few natural harbors because the whole continent is on a higher shelf than the others. So they didn't benefit from trade that flourished earlier elsewhere. It has no year round navigable rivers other than the Nile, and even that is subject to low and high season. This minimized the ability of trade to take place from one side of the continent to the other. And therefore, it limited communication from one tribe to another. If you have no shared language, you can't work together. 

One of our lecturers onboard is an engineer. He prides himself on his ability to solve problems. However, after living and working in Nairobi, he confesses he has no idea how to fix the problems facing Kenya right now. 

I'm both painfully and gratefully aware that we are blessed beyond measure. This excursion on the Tamarind Dhow was both restful to my body, and a cause of unrest to my spirit. And I'm not satisfied to shake my head and say, oh what a shame when I think of the conditions I saw during my short visit to Kenya, things I couldn't bring myself to photograph but can't expunge from my mind's eye.

But when we get home, I plan to look into ways to do something.  "S", our favorite guide in Mombasa, mentioned the tangible good things done by Oxfam in his country. 

That may be a good place to start.    

Day 2 Photo Montage from Mombasa

 March 20, 2025

"Asante sana" ~ 'Thank you very much' in Swahili

At first, the DH thought he could group all three days of our visit to Kenya into one photo montage, but we simply saw too many incredible things! This montage features more from Bombolulu and the awesome animals of Holler Park.  

I mentioned that I hadn't been able to snap a picture of the Kenyan women balancing loads on their heads. The DH managed to catch a man carrying something that way. He doesn't look nearly as regal as the women who do it so gracefully, but I guess I should be glad the DH is NOT taking photos of women!

Bombolulu & Holler Park

 March 20, 2025

"In Kenya you've got the great birds and monkeys leaping through the trees overhead. Its a chance to remember what the world is really like." ~ Joanna Lumley

Today was another chance for us to learn what this part of the world is really like. I'm sure they must exist in Mombasa, but I didn't see a single grocery store anywhere. (I discovered later that Woolworths is a grocery store in Kenya, but the only sign I saw was one in a mall in one of the better off parts of town.)  However, the roadsides are lined with markets, some more permanent like this fruit stand under a corrugated metal roof, others huddled under large umbrellas touching tip to tip and stretching back into darkness between the stalls. 

Our tour began after 1:00 which accounts for the picked over appearance of this market. It will spring to life again after the sun sets. This is Ramadan, remember, and this mostly Muslim city will stir itself to life in the twilight and this market will be packed with shoppers cheek by jowl as the Muslims prepare to break their fasts. Kenya at large is 70% Christian, but Mombasa is primarily Muslim.

Our first stop was Bombolulu. It's a village set aside for Kenyans who suffer from some disability--mobility issues, blindness, deafness, etc. Here they can live and are educated, and trained in making jewelry, fabric printing, leather work, and mobility device construction. The goal is for them to learn a trade and be able to eventually leave to start their own business or be employed in an existing business. If they are unable to, they may stay on indefinitely, safe and cared for.

This lovely young woman was twisting gold into earrings. Her crutches were lying beside her desk. 

The fabric printing shed didn't produce a batik-like piece with the pattern visible on both sides, but I love the unique artwork displayed here. 

After touring the workshops, we visited the recreated homes representing various tribes. The Swahili house was most recognizable as a home to me. There was a door, and entry way, an interior staircase leading to the crenelated roof, a separate kitchen (shown below), living area and bedroom. It was also made of coral stone and had a sense of permanence. 

The kitchen included a handmill, some pottery and a small cooking pot with a place for a small fire beneath it. The Swahili (which means People of the Coast) home showed heavy Arab influence in its construction and sense of privacy.

The other structures had a more nomadic feel, as if they could be torn down to relocate the timbers and replace the grasses or elephant dung that covered the lashed-together frames. Women construct most of these type of homes. 

A group of folkloric dancers performed for us then. The entertainment was long on energy. And one of the men was able to do something that seemed physically impossible. He clasped his hands over his head and did a sort of "jump rope" move with his own arms, flinging them backward and stepping through them over and over again without changing directions. I was too shocked by what I was seeing to look away long enough to try to video it. Why his tendons weren't stretched thin as rubber bands, I have no idea.

Our next stop was Holler Park. This is a beautiful example of how a company can give back. This part of the Kenyan coastline has built up over the millennia on a base of ancient coral reef.  Holler Park used to be a coral quarry. When the company finished extracting coral to make cement, they realized they'd created a "coral desert"--a place where the land was too depleted after removing the organic remains of coral to support the original plant life. So they searched for trees and shrubs that could grow in the soil as it was, and gradually the soil was naturally replenished and fertile again. (Beautiful Butchart Gardens in Victoria, Canada is another example of a cement company reclaiming their former quarry sites.) 

Giant clam fossils dot the entire park, testimony to the fact that once this entire area was covered by the Indian Ocean.

Then we were introduced some of Kenya's fabulous animals. We had a 3:00 date for a giraffe feeding (check the DH's photo montage for a shot of me making friends with these gentle giants with long purple tongues). 

The animals are a huge draw for this kindergarten class, but their teachers decided naptime in the shade of a neem tree was not something they could miss. Not that the kids were interested in sleeping. Doesn't that sweet little girl with her chin on her hands look like a Botticelli cherub?

In addition to giraffes, Holler Park is home to hippos, monkeys, various poisonous snakes, giant tortoise, oryx's and yellow crocodiles. Some of the animals are here because they need rehabilitation. This female hippo has milky blue eyes and I suspect she's blind. The gamekeeper who came to feed her had to put the head of lettuce directly on the round stone in front of her.

Notice the momma monkey by the hippo's back foot. Little green monkeys were clattering through the canopy above us all over the park and occasionally venturing down to gaze at us curiously. This monkey's baby is clinging to her belly, tight as a tick! The monkey didn't seem to bother the hippo at all. Evidently, inter-species cooperation and friendship happens.

Hippos in the wild are very aggressive animals and are responsible for 500 human deaths annually. The gamekeeper who feeds this fellow daily still stands behind an electric fence to toss heads of lettuce into his gaping maw. Nobody can break a "river horse."

Didn't want to make friends with this fellow.

Most gemboks have two long horns. This one is sort of like an African version of a unicorn with one long horn and the other only a small curl behind his ear. Clearly a disadvantage if this gembok wasn't in Holler Park. 

Yes, these animals are not technically "in the wild." But we were able to see a lot of animals pretty close without them being caged. In fact, we actually saw more different species than some of our friends who went on much longer drives (3 hours one way to reach the game reserve, then 5 hours back on account of traffic).  

We had a very satisfying day all around.

Mombasa Day 1 Photo Montage

 March 19, 2025

Here's the DH's collection of our photos from our day with "S." It was an eye opener.

Toward the end of our day with our sage guide, he told us about all the building projects China was bankrolling in Mombasa--bridges, railways, highways, etc. This was the first time we'd been told that the Chinese infrastructure work wasn't altruistic. It was based on loans. 

"A loan has terms," "S" said, "but we have not been told what those terms of repayment are."

A loan has strings. Eventually, the one holding the other end will give it a tug.  

Jambo, Kenya!

 March 19, 2025
Mombasa, Kenya

"Hakuna matata!" ~ Yes, it's a real Swahili saying! 

I snapped this photo as we sailed in to Mombasa. But later in the day, our guide, S told us it was not allowed to photograph the ferry. It's likely because the ferry is meant to hold 1000 passengers, but often can be carrying as many as 4000. With not a life preserver a board. There have been several tragic accidents involving loss of life, but as there is no method of even counting how many people were aboard, no one can say for sure how many were lost.

Our first port of call on the African mainland is actually an island. The city of Mombasa is situated in the middle of one of eastern Africa's few natural ports, much as Manhattan is surrounded by the Hudson. When I stepped out on our balcony, the air didn't smell at all like the poor air quality of Asia. It was earthier somehow, like smoke hanging above the city though there was no evidence of any large industry. No smoke stacks belching into the sky. It puzzled me, but eventually, I figured it out. 

"S" told us these elephant tusks are the iconic symbol of Mombasa and no one should believe we'd been here if we couldn't produce a picture of them! The little green vehicles are tuk-tuks

Our guide today was hand's down the best, most insightful one we've had this trip. His name was...well, he told us if we didn't tell where we heard what he planned to share with us, he'd tell us the truth about Africa.  So I'll refer to him as "S." (Hint: He bears the same name as a very wise Biblical king.)

I saw many women of all ages, shapes and sizes balancing bundles of goods on their heads. They carried themselves like queens with perfect posture and balance. Not even on my best day could I have managed that. Unfortunately, I didn't manage to photograph any of them. However, I did catch this lady at one of the many micro business food stands that ringed a public park as we drove by. Her bold, wild patterns and colors drew my eye immediately. She looks very self-assured and one who suffers no fools. 

"S" explained that Kenya has a history of invasion, migration, and colonization--Omanis, Portuguese, Indian, English. Therefore, not all Kenyans are the ethnically the same. He is a typical Black African from the Bandi people. (And even Black Africans are very diverse. The fabulous marathon runners who always blow away the competition in the Boston Marathon are all from one tribe of tall, thin people who live at an elevation of over 5000 ft. "S" says he tried running once, but it wasn't pretty.) There is a loose grouping of folks categorized as Swahili, but that refers to their shared language, not ethnicity, and mostly means "people of the seashore."  These are the Kenyans of Indian and Arab descent. There are even Kenyans of English descent whose families have been there since the 1800's. 

In the 1950's, Kenya wrested its freedom from Britain. The Crown agreed to cede the government to Kenyans if they could show there was someone who could run the cities UK had helped build. "So," "S" asked us, "how do you think we feel about the British?"   

Surprisingly, "S" says some wish the British were back. Since their independence, one family has retained control of power. This is not democracy. It is a family business. The Brits had rule of law and everyone was treated fairly. (But we did not hear this from him, he emphasized) 

Can you pick out the fruit bats hanging from this tree in the middle of the city?

Our next stop was the Old Town of Mombasa. It's like a living history museum protected by UNESCO. But the residents still pay rent to live there. The streets were narrow and lined with deep trenches that looked and smelled suspiciously like open sewers. There is no electricity. No running water. Water is collected at the main water plant (Thank you, Brits) and then water merchants deliver water, pushing large plastic containers on a handcart, through the winding streets. 

Cloth is woven using old looms. The weavers were too fast to photograph unless they stopped for a breath. They work with the big shop doors open both for light and a breath of air.

Our tour was in the afternoon so most of the fish at the market had been sold, but the proprietor brought out a large tuna from his cooler that had just come in. He generously offered to let us take a photo of both him and the fish!

"S" warned us that the market would be...aromatic, shall we say? But we must not make a face or hold our noses. It would be considered most insulting because these fish in all their smelliness are food. And that is nothing to be sneered at in this part of the world

Our next stop was Ft. Jesus, originally built by the Portuguese as a stop along their route to the East. There was a Catholic church, baracks and defensive works with canons facing the sea. When the Sultan of Oman swooped down and took the fort as a port for his slave trade. He redesigned the interior of the fort to modify the church to serve as a mosque. 

And the fort, whose name was never changed, as a place to hold the black Africans the sultan acquired from other black Africans who ventured inland and captured their own to offer for sale. The sultan's slavers sailed around the Cape of Good Hope and delivered their captives to Brasil's slave market. 

So, who do you think, "S" asked, do Kenyans blame most over that whole despicable practice? The Sultan? The sailors who carried their human cargo? The slavers in Brasil? The South American planters who bought and used them? Or the Africans who sought, captured and sold their own brothers into this living hell?

The question answers itself. "S" blames the ones who betrayed their own simply because they belonged to a different tribe. And it's why he's predisposed to feel charitably toward the colonizing British. They are the ones who destroyed slavery in this part of the world. 

Then "S" says it's history. It's done. He seems able to let it go. Deplorable, yes. Something that changes who he is? No.

But part of me can't excuse any of the members of this unholy chain. And ultimately, if there was no market, there would be no "product" procured. Can we take this logic and apply it to the drug trade and human trafficking today? I think so.

I think this photo of the interior of Ft. Jesus would make a good study to try some watercolor at home.

It was 100 degrees with humidity in the high 90's. My O2 concentrator is not rated to perform beyond a certain temperature, so I don't think I was getting adequate supplemental O2 as we trudged along. For the first time on this trip, I felt light headed and decided not to descend to the lower lever of the fort with the DH. I needed to sit in the shade and make the most of the "chewy", moist air.

The DH, followed by our friend Debra, who's been a regular at our sea day Bible studies.

The stairs led straight down to the sea and is the route shackled captives would have been driven to embark on a slaver's ship. Misery seemed to hang in the air as I watched the line of tourists steady themselves on the hewed out stone wall. If those rocks could cry out, it would be a scream to rend the universe itself.

A carver who looked older than this one asked a lady walking in front of us how old she was. "78," she replied. "I'm 57," he said, though he looked like he had at least a decade on her. The average age in Kenya is 19. While that sounds like a young and vibrant society, in truth it's also because the life expectancy is not quite 65 for men. Not quite 70 for women.

Our last stop was Uchongaji Sacco Society, an artisan cooperative to provide a place for talented carvers to have a way to market their wares. The 225 you see on the post is carved on the bottom of each of this man's piece so he will receive 80% of the proceeds when it sells. The 20% goes to the cooperative to support the sales building and other artists who are in need.

"S" then pointed out the that the carving chips were taken home by the artists and given to people who live nearby to use in their houses each evening. 

That explained the smoky-scented air. It's thousands and thousands of cooking fires! 

It also explains why the biggest cause of death in Kenya, after HIV, is lung disease, TB and other respiratory ailments. 

I knew our trip to Africa would be surprising. I didn't expect this. 

In which I make friends with a tortoise and wade in the Indian Ocean...

 Victoria, Mahe, Seychelles

Here's the DH's montage from our day in the Seychelles. Yes, I make friends with a giant tortoise. Yes, I dip my toes in the Indian Ocean. And yes, the DH discovers a rather "ladylike" nut that's endemic to the island! 

Still having so much fun!

Out of Africa...comes the Seychelles!

 March 16

Victoria, Seychelles

"Prince William and Kate honeymooned on our North island," our guide Celice told us. "Of course, a prince would take his bride to paradise!" 

The sail in to Victoria was lovely as we skirted a number of little barrier islands and sandbars. As you can see, solar panels and wind turbines have been installed on a harbor islet. Our guide, Celice told us solar provides 17% of the island's electricity requirements.

We are often greeted by folkloric music and dancing when we disembark. My DH's dad would have loved this group. They were playing POLKA music! At our first stop in Africa, I was expecting something a little different...

One of our onboard lecturers showed us how geologically both Madagascar and the Seychelles were once part of the African continent that got left behind as the Indian tectonic place pulled away to the northeast. Seychelles is, in fact, the smallest African nation in terms of both size and population, but they are highest in a measure of income and lifestyle.  

This statue and fountain of Queen Victoria was erected in her honor. The fountain eventually had to be turned off. 98% of the island is Catholic. Folks were mistaking the statue for the Virgin Mary, dipping their hands in the little waist high pools of water, and crossing themselves!    

The people of Seychelles speak French, English and their own Creole. When the European powers arrived in this part of the world, there were no indigenous residents on the island, but as their 3 official languages suggest, there has been a tug of war over it in the past. 

The island is quite mountainous and has a peak that rises to almost 3000 ft.! The original little church was destroyed in the early 20th century when an avalanche of large granite boulders broke free and rolled down on the town. It turned out to be a blessing in disguise. The church originally was situated on the waterfront with the ocean lapping at its steps. The rocks and soil the landslide provided helped the inhabitants build out more reclaimed land and moved the oceanfront several blocks away from the church that was rebuilt on the original site. 

It was Sunday when we visited, so all the stalls and shops were closed along Albert Street, but we did get to slip into the back of the large cathedral at the end of the business district. The sanctuary was packed and the congregation was singing a beautiful hymn I didn't recognize. It was sung in French, and all I could translate based on my high school French was "Forgive me, Lord." But the acoustics of the space made the voices soar heavenward as if we were in a giant bathtub! Lovely!

Postcard perfect, isn't it?

Our next stop was a beach resort on the North end of the island. I've swum in both the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans. My swimming in the ocean days are, unfortunately, over. However, I did roll up my capris and wade out to knee deep. The water was warm and the surf gentle. I'd forgotten how the sand sinks around your feet. When it was time to leave, I stopped briefly, letting the wavelets slide over the packed wet sand to kiss my toes one last time. It was a precious moment for me. I felt overwhelming gratitude at being able to experience such a beautiful place.   

This is a Coco de Mer nut. What? Were you thinking something else???

At the National Botanical Garden, we learned about this unusual nut palm. It's not a coconut because a coconut palm has both male and female elements and can self pollinate. A Coco de Mer palm requires both a male and a female tree for germination. It's not difficult to tell the difference. The male trees are as ..."manly"... in appearance as the nut is "ladylike." The Coco de Mere is endemic to Seychelles. That means you can't find them anywhere else on earth.

In addition to lots of flowering shrubs, we saw fruit bats hanging upside down in the canopy above us. They are the only native mammal on the island. 

Our guide told us the tortoises like to be stroked under their chin on their necks, so when this fellow looked at me expectantly, I gave it a try. He stretched his neck out as long as he could and raised himself from lying on the ground to standing up on all fours so I could more easily stroke his rough skin.  

Aldabra Tortoises are the same species found in the Galapagos Islands. This gentle giants often live to see more than two centuries. And love was in the air while we were there. One determined tortoise tried to mount one of the females, singing a long, low bawling song that didn't sound a bit like a Lou Rawls love mix. Unfortunately, the unlucky lover didn't have good sense of direction and ended up trying to climb up his would-be girlfriend from the side or the front. Perhaps, as she slowly moved away, she was trying to tell him "No means no." 

Silhouette Island in the distance

Seychelles is a wonderful destination and I'd love to go back. But there was one thing our guide told us that troubles me. As we were driving along, she pointed out one of their new schools. It was paid for by China.

Almost everywhere in the world we visit, we see Chinese grants, investments and outright building projects including schools, hospitals, ports, etc. Useful things. Things that raise the quality of life of the countries who receive the Chinese government's aid. They seem to be buying friends all around the world with tangible gifts.

There's a lot of discussion about foreign aid right now. I would argue it's important for us to give to countries who need our help. But I'd like to see our aid go in the form of providing fresh water wells, desalination plants where needed. Help with improving agriculture so countries will have more food security. 

Much of the world doesn't want us to send them our culture, like the Brits taught them to drive on the left side of the road. The world needs bridges. Better housing. Easy access to fresh water. School buildings. 

Essential things.

 

Maldives & Cruising the Indian Ocean

 March 12, 2025

I feel we are all islands...in a common sea. ~ Anne Morrow Lindbergh

After several sea days of driving rain lashing us even though the ocean itself was smooth as glass, we fetched up in Male, Maldives this morning. It's an independent nation of over 1100 individual coral islands spread out over 90,000 square kilometers of Indian Ocean. 

This is the Google maps-eye view of part of the Maldives island chain. It looks almost like a necklace.. And in fact there are 26 such necklaces out in this patch of the Indian Ocean that are part of Maldives and each of these atolls are home to several islands, not all of which are inhabited. 

Even so, the country is the smallest in Asia with a total land mass of only 115 square miles! The average elevation of the country is only a little more than 4 ft above sea level with the absolute highest natural point at only 7'10 feet above the waves. 

It wins the dubious honor of being the lowest lying country in the world. 

There are only half a million residents of Maldives, but over 200,000 of them live on the capital island of Mahe. 

Together with the large influx of tourists each year, this creates a unique problem for a tropical paradise. 

Garbage!

In each atoll, an uninhabited island is used as the "dump" for the inhabited ones. 

Our new cruise director, Cordelia, told us all the weather reports were discouraging. The best one predicted 65% chance of rain and the worst torrential downpours. It's the month of Ramadan and Maldives is 98% muslim. No shops would be open. The National Museum we'd intended to visit was closed. We would not be allowed to take water with us and drink it in public. So a visit to the city didn't sound too welcoming. 

Our other option was a beach day (6 hours) on one of the resort islands in the atoll where the dietary laws weren't enforced. But we were listed in the last group to make the 20 minute tender to the shore plus a 30 minute ride in a smaller boat to the island. There would be no beach chairs or umbrellas to be had by the time we arrived. If we were caught in rain and there was no way to shield my O2 concentrator, it could short out and I can't lose my source of supplemental oxygen. 

So we decided to spend our beach day on our floating resort, the Viking Sky! I put on my blue beach dress and we had a leisurely lunch on the fantail. Our evening wait staff were stationed there, so Putu and Komang spoiled us rotten. We had a lovely visit to the spa. I had a pedicure. And the ship felt like our private yacht! 

A drain the ocean view of the Indian Ocean. The rifts and ridges are evidence of the shifting of tectonic plates

I'm sure some of you are wondering what's going to happen to such a vulnerable collection of islands if the ocean levels rise (as they've been doing since the end of the last ice age and were much higher than today 120,000 years ago, give or take a millennia)

The answer is the future is grim for Maldives. But part of the reason for that lies in its formation. These are coral islands, like a larger version of the coral ring that surrounds Bora Bora. The hot spot under the Indian plate that created the origional volcano in the center has moved and continues to move as India crushes itself under the plate to further raise the Himalayas. The volcanoes left in the wake of the hot spot provide ideal places for coral reefs to grow and become coral islands as the dead volcano itself decays and sinks into the sea. All that's left are the low-lying strands of islands which inevitably will also be overtopped by the ocean around them. It is, as they say, the "circle of life."

The Maldivians are experimenting with sea walls, reclaiming more land from sea Dutch-fashion, trying to build artificial islands as the Emeratis have done in Dubai, and most ambitious of all, have proposed constructing a "floating city" anchored to the sea bed where residents will work and live in a totally walkable environment that will rise and fall with the water level. Each "city" is expected to house 50,000 people. 

And is the most expensive solution by far. Astronomically so.

Perhaps a better one, though I'm sure an unpopular idea, is relocation. Humans are migratory creatures. We tend to move to places we deem better for our lives and families.I speak from experience. We've lived in 9 different states, 4 different time zones throughout our married life and flirted with the idea of living and working abroad more than once. 

Home is something you carry with you.

As for humans being able to control the rise and fall of ocean levels, I'm highly dubious. It's been rising and falling without us for the life of the planet. It's a little like a flea thinking it can stop the dog from wagging its tail.

One time an art teacher on a cruise gave us only orange and black to paint a seascape and I thought she was daft. Then I cruised the Indian Ocean. This photo is totally untouched.

Does anyone else see an indigo chenille bedspread pattern in the ripples on this ocean?

The Indian Ocean is very placid. It's due to the coriolus effect which causes winds to be swept away from the equator to both the north and south, leaving a smooth path across the middle. Woe to the sailing ship who found itself in the doldrums. 

However it's been great for me. I haven't had to wear a scopolamine patch since Darwin. 

PS. It didn't rain a drop while we were in the Maldives. But I tend to burst into flames like a vampire in sustained sunlight, so we still made the right choice.