Moving On

When you begin counting down.  That is how you know the time to a major event is getting closer. 

5. That is how many more nights I have left to sleep in my house. 

16. The number of years I have lived here. 

28. The number of places I have lived so far.

There is a saying that home is where the heart is. Mine is not here anymore. I fell out of love with my house. When your heart is no longer where you live, that is how you know it is time to move on.

Peace. That is the feeling you have when your heart knows you made the right decision.  Peace is what I feel tonight.

Off Day

High above the Mara River I think I am looking over the border into Kenya.  The winds are picking up, a refreshing breeze blows around me, through me. The clouds give way to sun, then more clouds overtake.  The blue and white skies above the northern Serengeti plains in constant flux. 

The migration has not arrived at Sayari. We are waiting, wondering, when, if.  Those who have not seen it are impatient, leaving early in the morning and frantically driving south to find it. Others that have seen it are contemplating what it would mean to see it again, what if it would pass right in our path once again.

My intentional day off has given me a chance to reflect, regroup, breathe.  Soaking in all that is around me, not wanting to forget, though know these feelings will fade as time passes.  Written words and pictures are sure to evoke memories, snapshots in time.  Treasuring that this trip was shared with a forever friend; knowing that we will relive these moments in days to come. Absolutely sure my first time in Africa will have lasting effects on future directions and decisions in my life.  

Halfway through the Northern Serengeti

Our trip extension to the far north is so different than where we have traveled thus far.  Our group of six, now halved: Jackie, Justin, me.  

At this moment we are in the middle of a wildebeest migration, near Migration Camp. Just as incredible as the zebra migration 4 days ago near the Seronera River. I am overwhelmed and overjoyed as this is one of the reasons we extended the trip, hoping to encounter these tens of thousands of wildebeest as they move north toward the famous Mara River.  Dense masses of wildebeest as far as the eye can see in all directions.  The eerie grunting calls of the leaders, generals, resonating loudly as they command the herd forward.

We leave the migration and head north on the "main" road. A lonely lane of bumpy washboard, red dirt, boulders, small streams, mud.  Only a few side circuits jetting out, their terrain worse, at times even impassable. Second gear, third gear, back to second, first, never engaging fourth. Poly poly, slow.  "Bumping" Justin often calls out in his sing songy voice from the driver's seat. "Hold on and close the windows" as we drive through muddy streams.  "Floor it" Jackie and I cry out in unison as we cross a small river bed, strategizing how to get up the bank.

The  tsetse flies we have for the most part avoided are out in full force. Flying teeth.  There is no weapon known to fight them off, only soothing your bloody battle scars at the end of the day.

A comfortable silence is sharply contrasted by the noise of the road.  An occasional calling out of a sighting: warthog,  impala, topi, ostrich, klipspringer, zebra, water buck. A squeal of delight and immediate command of "stop" from Jackie, aka Mama Tembo,  when we encounter elephant. 

The Serengeti plains seem to go on forever. Light green mark the plains, dark green the trees. Tall grasses grow along the sides of the road, not yet consumed by the impending migration. 

My dream of seeing the wildebeest cross the crocodile infested Mara River into Kenya is soon to become reality.