Safari Expert, Humorist, Adventurer, Writer

CHAPTER 6 - A coastal discovery
(Kenya coast, 1978) My new business partner Alex had bought an inflatable Zodiac boat with an outboard engine, having a plan to explore the coast and find out what was really up there. He christened the boat Lufty, and he and Sally loaded it with a tent and provisions. Early one morning, they waved goodbye to Sally’s parents and set off from the coast at Malindi, motoring northward in Lufty, but always staying within sight of the shore. They cleared the headland of Ras Ngomeni, and then it was a straight shot north-east across Formosa (a.k.a. Ungwana) Bay.

The Zodiac boat had three inflatable chambers: one on each side and then another chamber at the bow. As the story goes, they were still some ten miles south of Kipini when they noticed that one of the side chambers was no longer firm; somehow it had punctured and was steadily leaking air. They could see bubbles coming up through the water along one side, so some water-borne object must have snagged the rubber skin of the Zodiac and made a hole. Alex and Sally moved the equipment and baggage over to the still-inflated side, and they limped onward, heading in even closer to shore from this point on. 

They soon saw breakers on shore, marked by a dip in the high sand dunes that fringe the coastline here, and they deduced from their chart that this must be the mouth of the old course of the Tana River. Since the air chamber on the punctured side was now almost completely deflated, they had no choice but to head for the river mouth and hope that Lufty would make it that far.

They did not know it then, but coastal sailors had discovered to their cost over the years that the channel through the mouth of the estuary was not where one would expect it to be; it was a treacherous approach, off to one side of the river mouth. But Alex was an experienced sailor, able to ‘read’ the water and discern the location of shallow shoals and also deep water.

Fortunately, the tide was high, and they successfully navigated the estuary without running aground, arriving at a sandy bank on the north side of the river and securing Lufty to a sturdy tree root. They clambered out of the boat and transferred their equipment and provisions to dry land, having just enough time to erect their simple tent before the last rays of afternoon sun disappeared over the treetops of the delta.

The next morning, they disconnected the outboard engine, hauled Lufty onto the riverbank, found the puncture and applied a repair patch. While Sally busied herself with chores in camp, Alex set off on foot to explore the river delta, armed with nothing more than a sheath-knife. He came back hours later with wonderful tales of the scenery and wildlife he had discovered. He talked of herds of Cape buffalo, wild and unapproachable elephants, hippo pods at every river bend, swarms of huge crocodiles, lions heard calling in the distance, a variety of water birds, the haunting cry of the fish eagle, and so much more. In truth, exaggeration was an art form with Alex.

He had climbed hundreds of feet to the top of the high coastal sand dunes and had looked carefully in every direction, using his binoculars. He had seen no sign of human habitation anywhere. However, he had glimpsed three human figures hidden in the forest, and he called out to them in Swahili, which only caused them to flee. Still breathless with excitement, Alex exclaimed to Sally, “This must surely be one of the last truly untouched places in all of Kenya!”Type your paragraph here.

CHAPTER 3 - A Maasai Mara foursome
(Maasai Mara, Kenya, 1978) One thing I would have missed, had I remained in England for a lengthy sojourn in East Horsley, is watching wild African animals having sex. Now, being English by origin, I don’t really want to see that… or do I? Animals that have eschewed any vestige of modesty in order to copulate boldly in my presence include elephant, rhino, lion, leopard, hyena, zebra and of course baboons. But, blushing reader, please know that this is still not an exhaustive list.

The two girls and I had sat down and planned to split up, having discovered in truth that we each wanted to do different things. Moi had decided she would head down to Kilifi at the coast where our mutual friend from Edinburgh University, Deadeye Nixon, was spending time with his family at their Kilifi home. I think she had harbored a crush on Deadeye for some time now. Caroline did not have an exact plan in mind, but she said she wanted to travel up to Lamu island, enjoy the laid-back island lifestyle there and lay on the beach. 

Meanwhile before we split up, Peter Scholes suggested the four of us do a quick trip to Maasai Mara for some game-viewing in that magnificent wildlife sanctuary. Peter got on the telephone and booked the tented camp accommodation in Maasai Mara, and then we were ready to go.

With Peter at the wheel, we drove from Nairobi down to Maasai Mara in Peter’s Toyota Landcruiser, a rather long and dusty journey on dirt roads in those days, taking about four-plus hours. I think Peter was quite keen on my Moi, meaning that to spend any time with her and yet eliminate suspicion, Peter would have to haul along Caroline and myself on the trip as well. So, Peter drove the three of us down to ‘The Mara’, as it is commonly known, and we spent a couple of days game-viewing there. I cannot recall at which tented camp we stayed, but I remember that Peter and I shared one twin-occupancy tent and Moi and Caroline shared another.

The first day out game-viewing, we came upon a big male lion and a lioness, both lying down, with the big male splayed on his back. His white underbelly stood out against the tawny grass, and his four legs pointed skyward. Peter had decided to let me drive today, and he and I were seated in the front, while Moi and Caroline were on the rear bench seat.  “Let’s watch,” said Peter, “because I think they may be mating.” The girls’ interest suddenly piqued, audibly. But if this was Peter’s idea of wooing his intended, I didn’t think he had much hope. Sure enough though, he soon rolled over, got up and went over behind the female. He swiftly mounted her and gripped her neck in his mouth, thrusting away as she turned her head and snarled at him. Just to be sure, I am talking about the big male lion, yes?

I was just raising my camera for an action photo when my arm was rudely shoved aside as the two girls pushed themselves towards my open window to try and thrust out their heads. Mouths agape, they were transfixed at the spectacle. Clearly, I would not be getting my photo.

If you know anything about mating lions, you will recall that when a lioness is in estrus - in heat - the pair often mate every twenty minutes or so, up to fifty times a day and for several days on end. This high frequency helps ensure successful fertilization, since the lioness is only in estrus for a relatively short time. Of course, if the male lion were a man, it would be flirtsy, squirtsy and arriverderci. But the male lion does stay around afterward mating to make sure other males don’t mate with his lioness and also to protect his territory.

We must have stayed there watching for around two hours, because we saw the two of them mate numerous times. Still talking about the lions. To help his forlorn cause with Moi, Peter remarked that the lioness often initiates mating and that if the male starts to tire, she may nudge him, growl at him or even swat his head with her paw to encourage him to continue. This useful nugget of foreplay from Peter merely elicited a nod from Moi and a grunt from Caroline. Yes, I had something witty to say myself, but I thought better of it; Peter would not have thanked me, and I did have to room with him that night.

The next day after breakfast in camp, we went out game-viewing again, and we came across a trio of elephant bulls. “That elephant has five legs,” said Caroline. “No,” replied Peter, “he is just excited because he can smell water.” It’s true, elephants can apparently smell water up to twelve miles away., and for some reason, it gets them horny. I didn’t think Peter’s was sufficient explanation, so I had some fun with it, pointing out that this particular elephant had four feet. “But they all have four feet!” chorused the two girls. “Yes,” I agreed, “and it’s certainly more impressive than a mere six inches…. right Peter?” Peter blushed. I was not helping. Peter was not too conversational that evening, once we were back in the tent, although I believe he did say, “You think you are quite funny, don’t you?”

Writing about this now reminds me of the time I was standing third in line at a Subway sandwich shop here in America. The man behind the counter asked the woman at the front of the line what kind of bread and what size sandwich roll she wanted. “I’d like a twelve-inch Italian,” she said, and the woman in front of me muttered ‘Who wouldn’t?”

I have been writing about my experiences in Africa, starting in Kenya where I co-founded a safari business in the late 1970s and had many adventures exploring this fascinating country. Read my entertaining and incredible (but all true) African adventures! But first, a little about myself, and our custom-planned African safaris...

CHAPTER 1 - The adventure begins
(Edinburgh, Scotland & Nairobi, Kenya, 1978) There is an old proverb that says “Turn a corner and meet your fate.” So here I was, between jobs as it were, wondering what to do with myself. I had heard of an Edinburgh University reunion to which I was invited, and I thought that might be a pleasant and timely diversion. I took the train from London up to Scotland in the early summer of 1978, arriving in Edinburgh and staying in the city with a friend.

At one of the gatherings, I met up with two girls whom I had known while in college. Moi and Sarah suggested we went out to dinner together. We had a lot of laughs, enjoying reminiscing about our college years and drinking a prodigious amount of alcohol. The next morning, the two of them appeared at my lodging rather early, ringing the doorbell and rousing my hungover frame from the bed

When I opened the front door, I saw two grinning faces, and they were holding up a personal check that I had evidently written out and handed to them. It was made out to Aeroflot Soviet Airlines for 150 Pounds. The notation on the check indicated, in a drunken scrawl, ‘One-Way Air Ticket on Aeroflot via to Nairobi via Moscow.’ The look of astonishment on my face caused them further mirth, since I had no recollection of writing the check or why I had done so. I invited them both into the kitchen and, over steaming mugs of coffee, they told me what had happened.

“Andrew,” said Moi, “don’t you remember we were talking at dinner about what we were going to do next? Caroline and I told you we were going to fly to Kenya for a holiday. You then said, “That sounds like fun, can I come too?” You got out your checkbook, wrote out the check to Aerolflot and handed it to us, so that we could buy your ticket, and then we could all fly to Nairobi together. Don’t you remember any of this?” I did not. The only thing I remembered was drinking a lot of white wine and eating a bowl of moules mariniere. I did not even remember how I got back to my friend’s home. Incidentally, I no longer drink.

Within a month, the three of us were on the Aeroflot Soviet Airlines flight from London Heathrow via Moscow to Nairobi. All they had to drink on board the aircraft was water, apple juice or very sweet Russian champagne. We had an eight-hour layover at Moscow’s Sheremetyevo Airport and upon arriving there, we were ushered by armed guards into a huge granite and glass terminal area, passing through a waiting area filled with plush lounge chairs and then on into another huge glass-enclosed space with a granite floor, but not a single chair anywhere.

Here, we were made to wait the full eight hours until it was time to board our onward flight to Nairobi, Kenya. Thankfully, we had brought our own food and drink with us on the trip and, mercifully, there was a single bathroom to which we were grudgingly granted access. 

Upon our arrival in Nairobi, we completed arrival formalities and emerged into the sunshine, inhaling for the first time the sweet and earthy smell of Africa, a distinctive aroma that I soon came to understand is so evocative of Africa and of life on safari. Arriving in Africa was not always so easy or pleasant.

I had read that when legendary explorer Henry Morton Stanley first set foot on African soil in 1871, he was on a quest to ‘find’ the famous missionary, Dr. David Livingstone, who was reputedly lost somewhere in Central Africa. Leaving the ship, Stanley set foot on the island of Zanzibar off the coast of what is today Tanzania. Zanzibar in those days was a rank, steamy and odiferous place, a slaving center and an Arab Sultanate. According to Stanley, what assailed his nostrils upon alighting from his ship at Zanzibar Island was “a heady mix of spices, tar, rotting vegetables, excrement and drying hides.” Nice.

But that was then and that was Zanzibar. Up-country here in Nairobi at almost a mile of altitude, the exotic smells of the bush wafted into the city on the light breeze. Then it struck me. This felt right, that I was here in Africa. Little did I know what adventures lay ahead of me…

ANDREW FENTIMAN – PROFESSIONAL SAFARI GUIDE & AFRICAN SAFARI ORGANIZER
I was a Professional Safari Guide in East Africa in the late 1970s, and I have been custom-planning African safaris for a discerning global clientele for over 45 years now. In 1980, I founded Safari Consultants in London, England. I sold the business in 1987, relocated to the U.S. the same year and started Safari Consultants of London (USA), located in Southwest Florida. The company ceased advertising in 1993, and since then we have derived all business from repeat clients and referrals. Although our clientele includes American celebrities, European aristocracy and Arab sheikhs, our specialty is addressing the more typical requirements of countless discerning travelers who seek a truly special custom-planned African safari experience… and in over four decades, we have never had a single dissatisfied client. 

CHAPTER 5 - A fork in the road
(Nairobi, Kenya, 1978) To recap, I had just been introduced to Alex and Sally Braguine, the couple who would become my partners in a new Kenya safari company. Nicky did warn me that although her sister Sally was lovely and kind, Alex could be a lot to handle and that I should know what I was getting into.

Alex was American, a bold and brash multi-lingual chain-smoker and a self-styled White Russian of modest stature. But he had a domineering manner, plus an uncanny ability to ‘read the African mind’ and get things accomplished, which is often no mean feat in Africa.

As part of his machismo, he feverishly smoked the local filter-less Ten Cent brand of cigarettes, field-stripping the butts and dispersing the tiny pieces across the ground, as he had learned to do when working behind enemy lines in South-East Asia in the Vietnam era. I had never seen anyone but Africans smoking Ten Cent brand cigarettes - Ten Centies, as they were known by the locals - and this feat alone won him universal and instant admiration among Africans wherever he went, even as his eyes constantly squinted from the upward curling smoke of the ever-present cigarette between his lips.

He had been stationed in Laos in the 1970s, flying Air America missions for the CIA as well as conducting sorties into the jungle, and he was used to living on the edge. The most remarkable feature of his permanent frown and deeply chiseled visage were his ears, which protruded almost at a right angle from the side of his crewcut scalp. Those ears inevitably beckoned the eye’s attention, even as one tried to be discreet and focus more on his face. With his unique guttural accent, Alex also spoke several languages including English, Russian, German, French, Spanish and Swahili.    

Sally was born in Kenya, but was stereotypically English, meaning she was ever languorous, calm and unruffled and seemingly unaware of Alex’s frustrating peccadilloes. She was always surrounded by a pack of attentive house dogs. Sadly, the crazy decades of living with Alex would eventually take their toll on Sally in later years. I heard that she descended into an alcohol-fueled escape from reality, finalizing in a timely divorce. Unfortunately, I have lost contact with her, if she is still alive. 

Anyway, with my on-the-spot decision to fall in with Alex and Sally on their madcap Kenya adventures, it was time to say goodbye in Nairobi to my fellow travelers Moi and Caroline. It had been fun being together with the girls, while it lasted. As I have said, Moi was going to visit Deadeye in Kilifi; the resulting romance eventually led to marriage and children. Caroline planned to head up to Lamu Island, but I do not know what ever became of her. 

I formally partnered with Alex and Sally Braguine in September 1979 to create a Kenyan safari company called Sea Sports & Safaris; we later changed the name to Adventure Associates, having dropped the ‘sea sports’ side of the business.

Alex and Sally were eager to show me the estuary of the old course of the Tana River Delta. They had become intrigued about this region while staying in Malindi at the home of Sally’s parents. Talking to Malindi locals who professed to know the Kenya coast well, they had discovered that no one knew much about the forty-mile stretch of coast known as Formosa Bay (a.k.a. Ungwana Bay), a bay that lay between Che Shale Beach Camp just north of Malindi and the distant coastal village of Kipini.

Back at the Langata cottage, I had time to collect my thoughts and ponder what lay ahead. Events and coincidences had combined and conspired to launch me into an entirely new and exciting life. I would soon embark on a wonderful on safari lifestyle that I had only ever dreamed about decades earlier, when as a boy I read the captivating stories of early explorers trekking through darkest Africa! 

CHAPTER 4 - Nairobi days

​(Nairobi, Kenya,1978) Nicky was a talented wildlife artist, and Charmane worked for an international NGO (Non-Governmental Organization), which meant she brought home a variety of delicious imported foods which had us salivating at dinnertime. Within a matter of days, I started to take a shine to Nicky.

There was something captivating about her frankness, her confidence and her air of nonchalance,  and I would try to come up with reasons why we should run errands into the city together in her Suzuki four-wheel drive. Chatting away during these rides back and forth, we got to know each other quite well, and I began to think she liked me; but in what way? I hoped she might somehow give me a ‘sign’.

As I said, the only way to get to ‘the boy’s bathroom’ was via Nicky and Charmane’s bedroom. One early morning, I really needed to go, so I crept over to their bedroom, slowly turned the squeaky doorhandle and entered. It was already quite light, and although Charmane was sound asleep, Nicky awoke and abruptly sat up in bed. As she did so, her open nightshirt fell completely away. She greeted me with a jovial “Good Morning!” but made no attempt to cover up.

I scurried into the bathroom and locked the door behind me, confused as to what this might mean. I simply could not hold it any longer, and I already had a ‘half-sandwich’ going on down there. I was in quite a state. Was this the sign I had been hoping for? By the time I walked back into the bedroom, Nicky was lying down again with eyes closed. Was she feigning sleep, or was she perhaps oblivious to what I had seen?

One day, Nicky and I were talking, and she asked me what I planned to do while in Kenya. I told her that I wanted to go on safari, and that I hoped to meet some of the colorful bush characters like those I had read about as a boy. Mentioning this to Nicky seemed to spark something in her, and she said, “You need to meet my sister and her husband!”

When next they were in Nairobi, Nicky arranged for her sister Sally and her husband, Alexei Braguine, to come for dinner at the cottage. By the end of that evening, ‘Alex’ and Sally had invited me to come exploring Kenya’s remote Tana River Delta with them, since they had only been there once and wanted to conduct a thorough reconnaissance of the delta with a view to operating safaris there. I could not believe my luck that Nicky had introduced me to these two fascinating people!

CHAPTER 2 - Cottage life

(Nairobi, Kenya, 1978) It was September 1978, and I had just arrived in Kenya with fellow travelers Moi and her friend Caroline. By the time we got to Nairobi, I already had a crush on Moi, and Caroline had a crush on me. But let me black-and-white it for you; no one’s feelings were reciprocated. Between the three of us, we only knew of two people in Nairobi. One was John, Moi’s younger brother, and he was starring in the Peter Shaffer play Equus at Nairobi’s Donovan Maule Theatre. One scene involved John facing the audience completely nude, a role that ‘takes a lot of balls’, one might say. None of us were offended by the full-frontal nudity when we all went one evening to watch him perform, but Moi refused to look at her brother in all his glory.

Actually, we had hoped to sleep for a few nights on the floor of John’s city apartment, but he had recently acquired a girlfriend, so that option was apparently out of the question. The other person in Nairobi of once-removed familiarity was Peter Scholes, a geologist working in East Africa for an international corporation and the older brother of my good friend Simon Scholes from Edinburgh University days. I had been Best Man at Simon’s Scottish wedding, where all the men wore kilts; except me – evidently I did not get the memo. Peter lived in an old cottage out on Langata Road in Nairobi’s garden suburb of Langata, a few miles past Hillcrest School.

The cottage lay at the end of a dirt road that traversed farmland, and it was pleasantly remote and peaceful. We met Peter in the city so that he could drive the three of us out there because, as he put it, “You will never find the place, otherwise.” Arriving at the cottage, we discovered that there were three bedrooms and two bathrooms, and that Peter shared the cottage with three single girls: Nicky, Charmane and Hillary. However, Peter was more absent than he was resident at the cottage because his geological work took him off on extended trips all over East Africa.

Nicky and Chamane shared a bedroom, Hillary had her own bedroom and so did Peter. Peter explained that he spent most of his time out in the field on geological surveys, and evidently Hillary’s job also kept her away most of the time - as did her French balloonist boyfriend. So, the three of us spread out in the cottage, with the two girls taking Hillary’s room and myself bunking in Peter’s room.

The way the cottage was laid out, Peter and I had to walk through the bedroom that Nicky and Charmane shared in order to get to and from the bathroom. Nicky and Charmane did not seem to mind the extra load on the two bathrooms with us all being there, and they assured us that Hillary would not mind either, when she eventually returned home.

The three of us spent our days exploring Nairobi and its environs, taking the opportunity to hitch a ride in and out of the city with either Nicky or Charmane. On one occasion, Hillary drove me into the city, and we encountered a police roadblock on the outskirts where road construction was being performed. A policeman stepped out into the road and waved us to a halt. “Do you know you were speeding?” he challenged Hillary, also asking her to produce her driver’s license.

In those days, the Kenya driver’s license was very much like the old British ones, a very small red booklet that contained one’s credentials. Digging into her purse, towards me and on the side away from the policeman, Hillary fished out a 20 Kenya Shilling banknote, and she tucked it inside her license but with both ends of the banknote spilling out conspicuously on each side of the license booklet. “I am sorry, sir,” she said, as she handed over her license through the car window, “I did not know I was speeding. Here is my license… and I hope this will take care of it”, she added. The policeman took the license, let out a gasp and immediately thrust it back at Hillary. Hillary was shocked.

But all was soon revealed, when the policeman loudly whispered “You are supposed to fold it up! Do it again!” Once Hillary had folded the banknote in three and re-inserted it into her license booklet, the policeman calmed down. He gave her license a cursory look and then impatiently waved us away. “On your way!” he bellowed.

As we drove off, Hillary started to relax. “I was worried there for a moment,” she explained, “because I thought for a moment that we had found the one honest policeman in the whole country!”

 

MY TRUE TALES FOM THE AFRICAN BUSH
At its peak in the early 1900s, the British Empire controlled roughly one-quarter of the world’s land area and over 412 million people: over 20% of the world’s population. The British had effectively invaded 90% of the countries in the world, before the sun eventually set on the British Empire.

During the colonial era, Englishmen of a certain education and background would draw on the centuries-old tradition of blindly venturing forth to explore and conquer foreign lands. That doing so might have the Englishman end up in the middle of nowhere and meeting an untimely demise – either staked out under a burning sun, or spitted on a spear tip, or perhaps even eaten by cannibals – well, such an outcome was seldom contemplated. As the famous Noel Coward lyric from his 1931 song goes, “Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.”

I was born and educated in England in an elite private-school environment at a time when the country still churned out young men schooled in the Classics and cloaked in the glories of colonialism, even though the British Empire no longer existed. The result of this upbringing was an Englishman’s unbridled self-confidence and an abundance of that singular quality which above all else in a previous era had served to bring a quarter of the world under British dominion, and that singular quality was a complete inability to appreciate the true gravity of dangers lying ahead! 

Africa meanwhile is always full of interesting and strange tales, traditions and superstitions concerning people and animals. Africans have told me in all seriousness of a giant who can walk a mile in six paces; of an elephant with six tusks; about a bird that only has one eye; of a double-headed snake; an antelope much larger than a giant eland (Africa’s largest antelope); that the reason we do not see unicorns today is because they never made it to Noah’s Ark. Each distortion of nature was always accompanied by an emphatic protestation of truthfulness by the teller.

But please know that everything I write is actually true, bearing in mind I am writing from memory after a lapse of several decades. The biggest challenge for me is recalling the order of everything and the approximate dates. The things you will read about really happened, even as you may shake your head in wonderment. But rest assured that I have traumatized no one… except perhaps the midwife who delivered me!