The terrible bloodshed and chaos in Kenya may seem too familiar to most of us. Many African nations are torn apart by violent factions, destroying their mutual homelands over tribal and political differences. Sudan is the most visible to Americans now. But Kenya deserves special attention, as well. This is a strikingly beautiful land, and its leaders, although corrupt, had the good sense to be among the first to outlaw killing safaris, to preserve their greatest natural resource: lions, wildebeest, buffalo, cheetahs, and the incomparable leopard.
In 2002, my husband and I took a photo safari in Kenya. The first time I saw a lion, I thought, I could die happy because I have been so close to one of this greatest of animal wonders. The country was already losing tourism dollars from the after-effects of the bombings of the U.S. Embassy in 1998, and then the general lack of travel after 9-11. Our safari group would normally have had 18 travelers, but had only four. It made the experience special for us, but Steve and I felt sadness for our driver, Peter, who was only working a fourth of the time.
Our hotel in Nairobi was beautiful, but we were warned not to leave the building after dark, due to armed thieves. We drove past one of the saddest enclaves of humanity I’d ever seen: a slum of 900,000 people– half the size of greater Las Vegas! Imagine a muddy collection of makeshift aluminum and cardboard lean-to’s, stretching more than a mile, with a haphazard network of paths, and even basic plumbing cobbled together, hijacked from the city system. The superslum was the permanent home of these 900,000 Kenyans. Many had jobs, families, pride. But their fragile existence is likely to be the first to crumble as the violence continues.
In the countryside, far from the city slum, Steve and I remember the Kenyans as very poor, but paradoxically very happy. They walked by the side of the rutted roads as we bounced along in our van. They’d wave and laugh, dressed in a comical collection of American logo shirts. Most spoke English, and were delightful to talk to. Our visit to a Masai village is one of my fondest travel memories.
Today, Steve and I worry about our friend Peter, whose livelihood may suffer a death blow. Who will visit to see the lions and cheetahs now? And when the tourists stop coming, why will anyone bother to protect these treasures? The greatest tragedy is that the people are destroying each other, when it’s the corrupt government that deserves to be destroyed.
POSTED BY PAULA FRANCIS