Ahhh...how nice it would be to 'Marlyand' your way through Africa...

Throughout our journey, Leila and I have occasionally encountered rather wealthy travellers, traipsing their way through Africa’s highlights in the back of a private plane, staying only at the finest lodges with tremendous views and gourmet foods. I feel a combination of envy and pity when I encounter them. While I believe that my roughing it style has allowed me a better glimpse into true Africa, the luxuries of a bed, hot shower, identifiable foods and not spending long hours in a truck would certainly have its merits.

Loyal readers who have been following my ramblings since the start of this journey can recall that I too stayed in one of these opulent lodges: Giraffe Manor. Leila as a child had seen the Manor on a news program and always dreamed of going. It was everything that she had hoped for; delicious food, comfy beds, impeccable service and intimate encounters with wild giraffes…this all comes with a hefty price tag. We budgeted ahead of time and spend every minute we paid for enjoying the luxuries of the Manor and its fantastic staff. Of the cast of characters that we have encountered on this trip, two of the most memorable would have to be the couple from Maryland, USA.

‘Maryland’ as we have continued to refer to them throughout our journey, were guests at the Manor the same nights we were there, interaction was inevitable. We heard all about their future travel plans of safari tents and private jets throughout Africa and their woes of wondering what to do with the condo in Maui - just your standard dinner time chat. The most appalling interaction happened over drinks one night…we were sipping our cocktails in the parlour and discussing the plans for the next day. Maryland explained that they were going to visit Kibera (Africa’s largest slum was only a few kilometres from us…it houses close to a million people in tin shacks). I thought it was an odd place for Maryland to tour and the look on our faces must have conveyed as much. Female Maryland explained that they give “substantial sums of money” to a charity in Kibera and they wanted check up on their donation.

At hearing the name Kibera, Cosmo, one of the staff members turned his head and, for a very brief second, made eye contact with female Maryland. She looked directly at Cosmo, and in a hushed and unnecessarily slow whisper asked “do you live in Kibera?” Cosmo nodded in the affirmative, paralysed with the unprecedented interaction. Female Maryland next turned to Leila and I to offer further explanation;, “It’s the slums” before downing her martini and sending Cosmo off to fetch another.

‘Maryland’ became a bench mark that we used to measure all other aristocratic travellers that we encountered. I’ll be honest, with the obvious exception of some other Manor guests, it was hard to come close…until the Ngorgoro Crater.

We were nearing the end of another splendid day of game viewing…we would shortly return to camp for a cold shower before crawling into our tent and hard floor mat. Dinner, although delicious, would be a predictable affair of ugali and a meat stew balanced on our laps. It don’t mean to sound forlorn here, at this point in the trip it had simply become a way of life – the distant memories of cleanliness and an elevated sleeping surface were nestled in our subconscious. Occasionally we would pass one of the spectacular lodges that dot the African countryside, sigh and think…what if? Then we snap back to reality, wash our hands in a bucket and carry on.

We had stopped, along with a few other vehicles, and were silently admiring one of the crater’s salt lakes. The hippos and flamingos providing a lovely backdrop, while high atop the crater rim Leila pointed a stupendous lodge, no doubt providing excellent views of the wonder we were in. No real words were spoken, we both went about silently dreaming of the soft bed, warm water and gourmet food that was going to greet those visitors at the end of the day.

The silence was broken by the voice of a boy, maybe 12 years of age, who discarded his gameboy long enough to glance up and say “Is that our lodge mummy?” The fury in Leila’s eyes was short lived as she (and I) gaped in amazement at this family before bursting into fits of giggles. The rest of their conversation was a blur, I couldn’t differentiate between their comments and Leila’s impersonation of them. Somewhere in mix comments were flying; “hope the fish is fresher than last night”, “the extra pillows that we requested had better be there”, “I wonder if they restocked the bath salts”…

Maybe if was the dehydration setting in or the fact that I was definitely on my longest tenting it stretch ever (and I was a Girl Guide!) but I had a hard time containing myself at the antics of these folks, undoubtedly relatives of Maryland. The father was the only one that seemed interested in the herd of wildebeests that wandered by, the rest continued to be glued to their handheld electronic devices. Leila, who doesn’t appear to outwardly hate many people, had murder in her that day…had that ungrateful boy stepped out of his deluxe 4x4…well she would have made it look like an accident at least.

There were others, but they were few and far between…most seemed ecstatic to be in Africa. As for the rest…they provided entertainment and even a new vocabulary for us. Leila and I have taken to using Maryland as an adjective, verb and personal pronoun when applicable. There is talk of lobbying to get it into the next urban dictionary…