Is wild Africa ready for even wilder Wilbur?
Can a lively tot cope with a trip to Kenya? An apprehensive Kate Silverton decides there’s only one way to find out...
WHEN the baby elephant came trotting towards us, little ears flapping in the breeze, leathery skin caked in brick-red dust, and with a trunk lolling like a jellied periscope, it was difficult to say who was more excited – me or my two young children.
The calf had arrived at the David Sheldrick Orphanage in Nairobi only the day before, having been rescued from a well she’d had the misfortune to fall into.
She seemed confident enough despite her ordeal and allowed us to touch her – her skin was surprisingly hard and punctuated by wiry black hairs.
The calf looked comical, but she was not to be underestimated. She reached up with her trunk to sniff me, then drew my hand towards her mouth to familiarise herself.
‘If she was any older she could have your fingers off, so be careful,’ the keeper warned.
Wilbur, my 20-month-old son, seemed unperturbed, perhaps recognising the traits of another naughty toddler when he saw one, and wandered straight towards a mini herd of orphans.
My daughter Clemency, four, was more reticent and I rescued Wilbur before he got on the wrong side of an elephant at play – they like to roll around with other like-minded individuals, but clearly the weight ratio was not in my son’s favour.
It was an astonishing start to our trip. I had not thought we would ever get to introduce our children to elephants in this way. Although my husband and I have visited Africa many times, we never dreamed we would return with our children.
Prior to our arrival, we were concerned on a number of levels, including the risk of contracting malaria, the heat and security. But an invitation to a friend’s wedding encouraged us to reconsider. Having established that the risks could be mitigated or were extremely low, we found ourselves touching down once again in Nairobi.
As we settled into our five days in the Kenyan capital, I pondered the fact that many families are happy to undertake a seven-hour trip to Dubai for a holiday, but do not consider Kenya, despite the flight times being similar. I for one think they are missing out.
We based ourselves at Hemingways, an opulent colonial-style hotel that sits like a pristine pearl in an oasis of manicured lawns in the suburb of Karen. There are magnificent views of the Ngong hills, where scenes for the film Out Of Africa were shot, and where Out Of Africa author Karen Blixen spent much of her time. Our room was cavernous, with a fabulous bathroom and a balcony overlooking the pool and grounds.
Thanks to our wonderful surroundings and the exceptional service, we seriously considered not coming home. The staff wore constant smiles, reassuring me when I apologised for the umpteenth time for ‘wild Wilbur’, who delighted in exploring the flowerbeds a little too energetically.
‘It’s absolutely fine – he’s just being a boy,’ they laughed. And so we settled into this new normal of long afternoons spent by the pool where we taught our daughter to swim, prefaced by visits to the local sights, such as the elephant orphanage. At the site, we met keepers whose dedication to their charges extends to sleeping alongside them and feeding them through the night. And this is no quick fix – they have to do this for two years. In Kenya, everyone is keenly aware of how crucial it is to preserve a natural heritage that is not only a Kenyan birthright but also a source of revenue. That aspect is especially important in a country that is struggling economically. Wilbur and Clemency stood alongside local schoolchildren intently observing the elephants as they gleefully bathed in mud – and listening to the keepers explain how they too could become involved in elephant conservation. We also visited Nairobi’s Giraffe Centre, which began as a reha- bilitation project for the endangered Rothschild’s giraffe.
There were only 120 such animals left when the centre was founded. Since then it has rescued, hand-reared and released about 500 orphaned giraffes into the wild.
THE major draw at the centre is allowing tourists to stand eye-to-eye with the giraffes as they come to an elevated platform to help themselves to food pellets proffered from little hands or even mouths. Clemency and Wilbur would have stayed all day, laughing at the length of the giraffes’ sticky prehensile tongues and their eagerness to feed.
On our third morning, Clemency and I woke at 5am to travel to Nairobi’s national park. I would have dismissed it before as an inferior choice compared with the other famous wildlife parks in the country, but on this occasion it made for a very accessible option. And the wildlife did not disappoint.
We saw lions, giraffes, buffalo, rhinoceroses, vultures, hippos, zebras and crocodiles swimming, something I had not seen before as they usually rest on the riverbanks, inert but ever alert.
It was a wonderful opportunity for some girly time, and I delighted in Clemency pretending to be an explorer, learning from our guide about ‘animal poo’ and what it can tell us – as well as facts such as why a
zebra has stripes and how a crocodile cools itself.
Thanks to the location of our hotel, we were able to avoid the worst of Nairobi’s notorious rushhour traffic and zipped around from one tourist attraction to another. And we always made sure we were back at the hotel for afternoon tea and a refreshing dip in the pool.
We could have spent a week here and visited many other attractions, such as Lake Nakuru or the Karen Blixen museum, but after five days we moved to the Lewa Wildlife Conservancy, a place I have longed to visit. Lewa lies in the north of Kenya and we had to take a tenseater plane to get there. During the journey, the children got a great view of snowcapped Mount Kenya.
We were heading for a friend’s wedding, so our invitation to stay at Lewa House ensured this trip became the holiday of a lifetime. During our stay we enjoyed game drives, where we watched lions hunt and ultimately kill and eat a zebra, something that fascinated Clemency as she sat spellbound by this circle of life playing out around her.
She managed a spot of ‘crab fishing’ under the watchful eye of a magnificent waterbuck, and even Wilbur did the early-morning drives with apparent ease, teasing cheetahs from their cover in the long grass with a playful ‘miaow’ when he spotted them.
After ten days we arrived home unscathed and I admit somewhat relieved we had managed a trip with two young children that had worked out so well.
A friend joked that I should take care not to allow Wilbur to smuggle an elephant into his luggage on the journey home. I managed that successfully, but we did adopt one instead – a baby female named Naseku.
She will be rehabilitated into the wild in a process that can take up to ten years – during that time most of the wild elephant population could be wiped out by poachers.
In the future, my children may have to rely on photographs to recall their time spent with elephants, but I hope we may return when they are older.
And I would urge people to consider visiting Kenya, if only to do your bit in helping conserve the extraordinary wildlife for your children’s children.