We woke up early for breakfast. I shivered a little as we waited to be seated; it was cool outside: the dry landscape was just starting to warm up from a frigid evening.
After breakfast, I took my pills: anti-malarials, vitamins and accutane, making sure to down them with bottled water and not tap water. The accutane had been causing me problems: I was told one of the symptoms was depression. I wasn't depressed, but easily annoyed. Every time my dad said some thing dumb, which was often, I could feel my irritability come to a boil. I struggled to keep a lid on it.
We hopped into the jeep and headed down the hill with a full day of animal-watching ahead of us. I yearned see something new, not just large herbivores grazing around like we had seen in Arusha and Manyara, but predators: lions, cheetahs, leopards and hyenas, hopefully during a kill.
Our journey was interrupted by a herd of elephants. Somehow, my dad completely missed them; I berated him for this stupidity. These elephants were far bigger than the ones in Manyara. Serengeti was no resort: only the biggest and the bravest survived. But, like the elephants at Manyara, they were eating everything in site.
As we explored the central Serengeti, we came upon a herd of Zebra crossing our path, a seemingly endless line of black and white stretching from a gully to our right to the vast plains to our left. There were buffalo and wildebeest; they were on the move too. I sensed I was witnessing a the beginning of a great movement of life, the beginning of the great migration.
You could also feel a tension in the air. The Zebra were going crazy, shrieking and kicking as they went by. I heard a story of a man who had tamed a Zebra, though it was still a bit wild. They are always on edge; they have to be. I would be too if lions could be lurking around every corner.
Our vehicle arrived at a viewing point. There were about a half-dozen jeeps overlooking a small stream gully. It was a great scene; the whole image was like a baroque painting, a canvass filled with every kind of wild beast. There were about a hundred buffalo keeping a close eye on a pride of lions devouring the carcass of one of their own. It was mostly bones now, a giant rack of overturned ribs like you see in the opening of The Flintstones. Vultures perched on acacias to my right, taking in the scene like us, patiently waiting their turn.
With my mom's hunting binoculars, I could clearly see the pride of lions. There were cubs, a few females and a male lion lying in the shade. He looked like Aslan, just sitting there magnificently while his wives do all the work. You can be lazy when you're king of the Savannah. Suddenly, he got up and make quick, efficient love to one of the lionesses. It lasted only about ten seconds.
Simon got a call and we were on the move again. We stopped in the middle of an open plain alongside a row of jeeps. Another cheetah. It was sitting in the shade of a lonely tree in the vast plains.
All of a sudden, it started walking directly towards us. The way it approached brought back memories of encountering in Dark Link in the Ocarina of Time, bringing back a sense of fear I was stared down by glowing eyes. It walked right up to our jeep and then alongside our row of jeeps. We were humbled by the surprise visit of this beast. In the distance, we could see a lone gazelle on the horizon; it was clearly in the cheetah's sights. We wanted to see a kill, just like how boxing spectators want to see a KO. It wasn't out of blood lust, it was about trying to get the fullest experience during our short time there. But we weren't as patient as the cheetah and moved on to see other animals.
As we drove along, Simon told us horror stories of people who were foolish enough to wander outside their vehicles. One dumb tourist got out of his jeep and was mauled by a hiding lion. He was saved by the jeep's driver. Unfortunately, things weren't so lucky for a kid who wandered out of his tent and attacked by a leopard.
We drove further south. The landscape was desolate and in dire need of rain. There were fewer and fewer animals. Simon turned off the main road; he had received some exciting news. They had spotted a leopard. It was difficult to see, but sure enough, I could see spotted limbs hanging lazily from the tree's branches.
It was dry. We encountered another pride of lions. The male lion sat lazily in the grass. Meanwhile, one of the lionesses looked like it had spotted something. It started to prowl and then pounced something in the tall grass. She didn't get anything. A moment later, a rabbit zoomed out of the grass, running like the wind. It ran right by the male lion, but he didn't move so much as a whisker.
The frustrated lioness wasn't done. She was desperate and hungry. She spotted a herd of gazelle. She walked right by our jeep, so close that my dad could have stuck his arm out of the window and stroked her (though if he had done so, he probably would've lost it). We followed it, watching as it prowled in the tall grass, each step getting it closer to its potential meal.
However, the odds weren't good for the lioness. Gazelle are much faster than lions and the only way it could get one is if it could get close enough to catch one before it could speed off. She was also hunting alone; there was no other lion to intercept them.
She made here move, but it was too soon. The gazelle ran off before the chase even really started. Another lioness came later and consoled her. It was sad to see her fail, but seeing even an attempted kill was exciting. We left for lunch.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Eurafrika Pt. 14 - "Endless Plains"
I rested in the back of the jeep as we drove to Serengeti, watching the dry Tanzanian scrub land go by. Cattle were herded down the side of the road in search of what little grass remained in the overgrazed, dry terrain. A van with a Chelsea logo on its windshield passed us; I was happy knowing I supported 'Africa's team'.
We drove into a small town. I mentioned earlier that Tanzania was the front lines of the Cola Wars, but there's more to it than that. The shops were all of identical construction and funny names like 'Half London Bar'. They were plastered with signs for Coke; Pepsi; Portman (tobacco); Zain and Vodacom (cell providers). I guess people everywhere love coke, cigarettes and cellphones: the things that make them relax and feel like they are not alone in this world.
Before we knew it, the jungle had returned and we had arrived at the gates of Ngorongoro: a gigantic volcanic crater that is now a wildlife sanctuary. Our jeep climbed the slopes on narrow red dirt roads, overlooking steep gorges . Our guide Simon was a great driver, and he had to be; the road was barely wide enough for two vehicles and trucks came around the bend at speed. As I looked down into the depths below, my dread of heights reemerged. I told myself that if anything happened I would be dead pretty quick and that I did pretty well in life. This seemed to help.
We had reached the crater rim and stopped to take a look. It was like a secret kingdom, protected and hidden from the outside world with giant walls. We didn't linger; we'd be getting a better look after visiting the plains of Serengeti.
We drove along the crater rim; I was shivering a little as it was noticeably cooler. We went through a pass and all of a sudden the lush green jungle and given way to grassy steppe lands. The road looped around a great vale surrounded by mountains on three sides. There were Maasai herders herding sheep not far from their village that lay in the valley below, like their ancestors had been doing centuries ago; it was like looking back in time.
As we left the valley, pasture lands became dry, rocky foothills, like something you would see in Arizona except with acacias instead of cacti. We passed over dry creek beds. The road was bumpy and the sky was filled with dust in this miserable land.
And then the road leveled out and we had reached the Serengeti, the endless plains of Maasai legend. When I first heard of this place, I dreamed of it like being in an ocean of savannah, with only grassy plains as far as the eye can see. And it was an ocean, but only of dry barren plains. The only thing living here was four of us traveling inside the jeep. We stopped so that me and my dad could relieve ourselves. It felt charitable, as we were providing moisture to an area that hadn't seen any in months. It was almost unimaginable that a few months later that these would lush savannas teeming with life.
We had reached the gates of the park itself and the landscape began to improve. There was more and more grass and in the distance a hill rose out of the land as we approached it. According to the map this was Naabi Hill, where the visitors center is and where the park really begins.
Simon got some interesting news on his radio and we broke off the main road. We drove by pride rocks, like the ones in the Lion King, the only landmarks sticking out of the infinite plain of grass. There were jeeps parked ahead and we knew this to be a sign that there was something interesting to see. It was a cheetah, its face covered with the blood of the gazelle it was eating. The agile beast would take a few bites of its meal, focusing on the vitamin rich legs, and then pause to make sure there weren't any lions nearby. Impalas could be seen vigilantly watching in the distance.
We drove further along the dirt path and sure enough there was a pride of lions not too far away. But they posed no threat to the cheetah, they were just sleeping.
We rejoined the main road; we had to get to the lodge as the sun was going down. We weren't the only ones, we passed several trucks, the only lifeline between our accommodations and the outside world. Giraffes could be seen marching along the horizon. Giant hills rose out of the ground and as the sun set you could see little lights on them. This was where our lodge was.
Simon skillfully drove on the road up the hill. We passed these kite-like objects that were hung from trees. Each one had a big blue vertical stripe down the middle. We wondered what these things were.
We arrived at the lodge in darkness. It had been a long day of travel. We were escorted first to our rooms, then to dinner and then back to our rooms: a necessary precaution considering we were in thick of the wilderness at night. Dinner was amazing again. I was excited for what I thought would be the greatest show on earth.
We drove into a small town. I mentioned earlier that Tanzania was the front lines of the Cola Wars, but there's more to it than that. The shops were all of identical construction and funny names like 'Half London Bar'. They were plastered with signs for Coke; Pepsi; Portman (tobacco); Zain and Vodacom (cell providers). I guess people everywhere love coke, cigarettes and cellphones: the things that make them relax and feel like they are not alone in this world.
Before we knew it, the jungle had returned and we had arrived at the gates of Ngorongoro: a gigantic volcanic crater that is now a wildlife sanctuary. Our jeep climbed the slopes on narrow red dirt roads, overlooking steep gorges . Our guide Simon was a great driver, and he had to be; the road was barely wide enough for two vehicles and trucks came around the bend at speed. As I looked down into the depths below, my dread of heights reemerged. I told myself that if anything happened I would be dead pretty quick and that I did pretty well in life. This seemed to help.
We had reached the crater rim and stopped to take a look. It was like a secret kingdom, protected and hidden from the outside world with giant walls. We didn't linger; we'd be getting a better look after visiting the plains of Serengeti.
We drove along the crater rim; I was shivering a little as it was noticeably cooler. We went through a pass and all of a sudden the lush green jungle and given way to grassy steppe lands. The road looped around a great vale surrounded by mountains on three sides. There were Maasai herders herding sheep not far from their village that lay in the valley below, like their ancestors had been doing centuries ago; it was like looking back in time.
As we left the valley, pasture lands became dry, rocky foothills, like something you would see in Arizona except with acacias instead of cacti. We passed over dry creek beds. The road was bumpy and the sky was filled with dust in this miserable land.
And then the road leveled out and we had reached the Serengeti, the endless plains of Maasai legend. When I first heard of this place, I dreamed of it like being in an ocean of savannah, with only grassy plains as far as the eye can see. And it was an ocean, but only of dry barren plains. The only thing living here was four of us traveling inside the jeep. We stopped so that me and my dad could relieve ourselves. It felt charitable, as we were providing moisture to an area that hadn't seen any in months. It was almost unimaginable that a few months later that these would lush savannas teeming with life.
We had reached the gates of the park itself and the landscape began to improve. There was more and more grass and in the distance a hill rose out of the land as we approached it. According to the map this was Naabi Hill, where the visitors center is and where the park really begins.
Simon got some interesting news on his radio and we broke off the main road. We drove by pride rocks, like the ones in the Lion King, the only landmarks sticking out of the infinite plain of grass. There were jeeps parked ahead and we knew this to be a sign that there was something interesting to see. It was a cheetah, its face covered with the blood of the gazelle it was eating. The agile beast would take a few bites of its meal, focusing on the vitamin rich legs, and then pause to make sure there weren't any lions nearby. Impalas could be seen vigilantly watching in the distance.
We drove further along the dirt path and sure enough there was a pride of lions not too far away. But they posed no threat to the cheetah, they were just sleeping.
We rejoined the main road; we had to get to the lodge as the sun was going down. We weren't the only ones, we passed several trucks, the only lifeline between our accommodations and the outside world. Giraffes could be seen marching along the horizon. Giant hills rose out of the ground and as the sun set you could see little lights on them. This was where our lodge was.
Simon skillfully drove on the road up the hill. We passed these kite-like objects that were hung from trees. Each one had a big blue vertical stripe down the middle. We wondered what these things were.
We arrived at the lodge in darkness. It had been a long day of travel. We were escorted first to our rooms, then to dinner and then back to our rooms: a necessary precaution considering we were in thick of the wilderness at night. Dinner was amazing again. I was excited for what I thought would be the greatest show on earth.
Eurafrika Pt. 13 - God's Country
Now that the conference was over, I knew that the real fun stuff was about to begin.
We left the lodge early in the morning and stopped in the nicest building in Arusha for a pre-safari briefing. The guide gave us a talk, basically what we should do so we don't get eaten; I didn't really pay attention; I knew to stay in the jeep.
We drove over endless rolling scrub land, caked with dry red earth and sparse vegetation. Through the mists we traveled, seemingly lost in time and space only knowing that we were going further into the unknown. There was the occasional donkey or herder, drifters in an otherwise lonely landscape.
There's something about a dry landscape that brings thoughts of adventure in me. Maybe it reminds of me of westerns, exploring a final frontier with only the landscape and sparse vegetation to give you company. For some reason the jungle just doesn't evoke the same feelings; it makes me think of Predator and Duran Duran.
As we drove further, the landscape became more lush and there were more and more people. We soon reached a bustling town in the middle of the jungle, filled with people carry goods or trying to sell them. A sign showed we had reached Manyara.
Soon we reached a wall, the longest and greatest wall on the planet: the African Rift valley. Our jeep climbed up the ledge, riding on the back of a giant asphalt worm as it snaked up. We passed giant ancient Baobab trees up the hill, once saplings when the first stones of civilization were being laid.
Before we knew it we had reached the top. In an instant, we were 1000 m higher than we once were. I looked back at the valley, the work of great forces as old as the earth itself splitting the continent apart. In a few million years, the sea of green below would be submerged under an actual one.
We arrived at our lodge. As I walked to our cabin I saw a view that I will be ingrained in the recesses of my mind for as long as I live. Below me lay the entire valley, a land rich in life. Looking south, the jungle faded to great green grassy plains. The grassy plain surrounded a shallow, silver Lake Manyara and was peppered with black dots. These dots were Wildebeest, Zebras and Giraffes. This was God's country and I was standing on his seat where he admired his creation.
The next thing we did was head to lunch. Now the reason I bring this up is that at this point I was a wraith; I had been sick and had not eaten well. I cautiously began eating, as food was something I had come to fear in Africa. But, the food at this lodge was amazing: there were all kinds of exotic fruits with delicious sauces I had never heard of, and it was also exceptionally prepared. I could feel the life return to me with every bite. The spirit of adventure was back.
After lunch, we headed back down to get a look at the valley. We drover past a small farming village with buildings made of mud huts. This area was poorer than the area around Arusha. A boy came up to our jeep; he had caught a chameleon and showed it to us. We snapped a picture before heading down to the park.
Our trek began in the jungle; there were monkeys, bush bucks and exotic birds. I saw two baboons on a log, one grooming the other. It reminded me of two girls braiding each others' hair; we humans are just like them!
Further along the trail the trees started to thin out. There was an entire herd of impalas cooling off under a bush. Some of them walked away, but most of them just acknowledged our presence and went about their business as usual. This is what it was like for most of the animals we encountered.
We reached a pool of water filled with hippos. They clearly had nothing better to do but fight each other, some of them bearing serious scars. On the grassy plains were zebras and wildebeest (Dutch for 'Wild Beast' - they're not very imaginative when it comes to naming things). There were also many flamingos, birds that I grown tired of seeing.
Just when I thought the day was done, we had our most dramatic encounter. We drove right beside a family of elephants. They were eating everything in site; elephants must eat at least 20 kg of food a day! There was a mother elephant with her young baby, keeping a close eye on us the whole time; we were told to make sure our camera flashes were off.
The sun was setting was setting quickly. There isn't much twilight in the tropics as the sun heads straight down into the horizon. By the time we reached the lodge, it was dark.
By the poolside was a troupe of acrobats. I learned some new dance moves as I watched them dance with some of the guests. They then performed some amazing stunts: flipping, climbing and standing on each other, all to the sounds of a frantic, primal beat. They ended their show by limboing under a flaming stick.
After their performance, my dad tried to buy some of their music, but its jewel case was broken. As neither party could properly speak the others language, it took a while until things were finally resolved.
We left early the next morning to get another look at Manyara (after a delicious breakfast of course!). On the road out of the lodge we saw the same village kid, but now he had two chameleons. As we drove through the park, we saw many more animals walking about. Cute little monkeys would congregate on the bridges near dry river beds; our driver made sure not to run any of them over. There were giraffes and elephants around every corner. But, today we felt we could go one better; we wanted to see a lion.
We passed through the scrubby areas of the park and drove by a herd of water buffalo. Now remember how I said earlier that most animals didn't care about the presence of humans. Not water buffalo; they stared us down with menacing glares, ready to charge at the slightest sign of aggression.
Our jeep motored along to the south where we would find a hot spring. We were stopped by a stampede of wildebeest, we hoped that around the bend we would get to see what spooked them. I was hoping for a lion. We reached the bend and there was nothing; I was disappointed.
We got out at the hot spring to see if it was actually hot. It was: you could cook an egg in it easily. I took a moment to look out on the plain. This lake was a resort for animals: good grazing year round with few predators.
We had seen all there really was to see and headed back, though on the way nearly ran over a black mamba. We also passed a crew that were repairing a bridge, imagining the many hazards of their job.
We had lunch at the lodge before heading for Serengeti. We drove by the chameleon boy one last time with sticks now holding three chameleons. We gave him a pen. I wondered what opportunities this kid had in this part of the world; I wondered how he saw it. What was I going to do of my opportunities when I got back?
But now was not the time to think of anything but the country that laid before us. The great valley faded behind us; my memory of it never will.
We left the lodge early in the morning and stopped in the nicest building in Arusha for a pre-safari briefing. The guide gave us a talk, basically what we should do so we don't get eaten; I didn't really pay attention; I knew to stay in the jeep.
We drove over endless rolling scrub land, caked with dry red earth and sparse vegetation. Through the mists we traveled, seemingly lost in time and space only knowing that we were going further into the unknown. There was the occasional donkey or herder, drifters in an otherwise lonely landscape.
There's something about a dry landscape that brings thoughts of adventure in me. Maybe it reminds of me of westerns, exploring a final frontier with only the landscape and sparse vegetation to give you company. For some reason the jungle just doesn't evoke the same feelings; it makes me think of Predator and Duran Duran.
As we drove further, the landscape became more lush and there were more and more people. We soon reached a bustling town in the middle of the jungle, filled with people carry goods or trying to sell them. A sign showed we had reached Manyara.
Soon we reached a wall, the longest and greatest wall on the planet: the African Rift valley. Our jeep climbed up the ledge, riding on the back of a giant asphalt worm as it snaked up. We passed giant ancient Baobab trees up the hill, once saplings when the first stones of civilization were being laid.
Before we knew it we had reached the top. In an instant, we were 1000 m higher than we once were. I looked back at the valley, the work of great forces as old as the earth itself splitting the continent apart. In a few million years, the sea of green below would be submerged under an actual one.
We arrived at our lodge. As I walked to our cabin I saw a view that I will be ingrained in the recesses of my mind for as long as I live. Below me lay the entire valley, a land rich in life. Looking south, the jungle faded to great green grassy plains. The grassy plain surrounded a shallow, silver Lake Manyara and was peppered with black dots. These dots were Wildebeest, Zebras and Giraffes. This was God's country and I was standing on his seat where he admired his creation.
The next thing we did was head to lunch. Now the reason I bring this up is that at this point I was a wraith; I had been sick and had not eaten well. I cautiously began eating, as food was something I had come to fear in Africa. But, the food at this lodge was amazing: there were all kinds of exotic fruits with delicious sauces I had never heard of, and it was also exceptionally prepared. I could feel the life return to me with every bite. The spirit of adventure was back.
After lunch, we headed back down to get a look at the valley. We drover past a small farming village with buildings made of mud huts. This area was poorer than the area around Arusha. A boy came up to our jeep; he had caught a chameleon and showed it to us. We snapped a picture before heading down to the park.
Our trek began in the jungle; there were monkeys, bush bucks and exotic birds. I saw two baboons on a log, one grooming the other. It reminded me of two girls braiding each others' hair; we humans are just like them!
Further along the trail the trees started to thin out. There was an entire herd of impalas cooling off under a bush. Some of them walked away, but most of them just acknowledged our presence and went about their business as usual. This is what it was like for most of the animals we encountered.
We reached a pool of water filled with hippos. They clearly had nothing better to do but fight each other, some of them bearing serious scars. On the grassy plains were zebras and wildebeest (Dutch for 'Wild Beast' - they're not very imaginative when it comes to naming things). There were also many flamingos, birds that I grown tired of seeing.
Just when I thought the day was done, we had our most dramatic encounter. We drove right beside a family of elephants. They were eating everything in site; elephants must eat at least 20 kg of food a day! There was a mother elephant with her young baby, keeping a close eye on us the whole time; we were told to make sure our camera flashes were off.
The sun was setting was setting quickly. There isn't much twilight in the tropics as the sun heads straight down into the horizon. By the time we reached the lodge, it was dark.
By the poolside was a troupe of acrobats. I learned some new dance moves as I watched them dance with some of the guests. They then performed some amazing stunts: flipping, climbing and standing on each other, all to the sounds of a frantic, primal beat. They ended their show by limboing under a flaming stick.
After their performance, my dad tried to buy some of their music, but its jewel case was broken. As neither party could properly speak the others language, it took a while until things were finally resolved.
We left early the next morning to get another look at Manyara (after a delicious breakfast of course!). On the road out of the lodge we saw the same village kid, but now he had two chameleons. As we drove through the park, we saw many more animals walking about. Cute little monkeys would congregate on the bridges near dry river beds; our driver made sure not to run any of them over. There were giraffes and elephants around every corner. But, today we felt we could go one better; we wanted to see a lion.
We passed through the scrubby areas of the park and drove by a herd of water buffalo. Now remember how I said earlier that most animals didn't care about the presence of humans. Not water buffalo; they stared us down with menacing glares, ready to charge at the slightest sign of aggression.
Our jeep motored along to the south where we would find a hot spring. We were stopped by a stampede of wildebeest, we hoped that around the bend we would get to see what spooked them. I was hoping for a lion. We reached the bend and there was nothing; I was disappointed.
We got out at the hot spring to see if it was actually hot. It was: you could cook an egg in it easily. I took a moment to look out on the plain. This lake was a resort for animals: good grazing year round with few predators.
We had seen all there really was to see and headed back, though on the way nearly ran over a black mamba. We also passed a crew that were repairing a bridge, imagining the many hazards of their job.
We had lunch at the lodge before heading for Serengeti. We drove by the chameleon boy one last time with sticks now holding three chameleons. We gave him a pen. I wondered what opportunities this kid had in this part of the world; I wondered how he saw it. What was I going to do of my opportunities when I got back?
But now was not the time to think of anything but the country that laid before us. The great valley faded behind us; my memory of it never will.
Eurafrika Pt. 12 - A Grand Challenge
The last few days at the lodge were pretty quiet. I spent most of my time recovering from my sickness and reading.
But, there was a lot of science going on as well, science that could end up saving millions of lives. So I had the chance to watch some brilliant minds in medicine speak about the latest goings on.
After missing the opening remarks, I saw a panel discussion about scientists and politics. I won't bore you with the details, just that it made me realize there are so many scientists who can't communicate at all. As soon as I hear someone who can't speak the language, I zone out; it's just too much effort to concentrate and grasp what they are trying to say. I wasn't the only one, I could see scientists left and right dozing off. It's a shame, I thought: at this conference there may be two people who can each solve each others problems, but if they can't understand each other, there's no possibility of collaboration that could lead to breakthroughs.
I did learn more about how my mom's lab was developing a HIV vaccine. It's all based on the research they've done with a group of Kenyan prostitutes who are HIV immune. The key seems to be in calming down the immune system's response to the virus.
The next day we drove to Arusha where the conference would officially end. It took place in the same complex where the criminals of the Rwandan Genocide were being tried. There was a petite blonde taking pictures of the event with telephoto lens. I asked her how much it cost and where she was from. She replied $10000 and Zimbabwe, I guessed one of the whites who fled the madness of Mugabe.
We entered a large circular lecture hall; it was large, wood-paneled and seated about five hundred. As I looked to the centre of the room, I wondered what horrible revelations had echoed inside these walls.
My Pavlovian instincts developed in college took over and I dozed off. I regretted doing so upon waking, as I had missed half of a really interesting presentation given by a Nobel laureate. There was a lot of talk about innovation, and plenty of creative ideas like growing human stem cells in mice that you can do better vaccine and drug tests.
Honestly, I don't remember too much of what happened these days. I was weak from a sickness and a lack of good food. I was looking forward to a change of scenery.
But, there was a lot of science going on as well, science that could end up saving millions of lives. So I had the chance to watch some brilliant minds in medicine speak about the latest goings on.
After missing the opening remarks, I saw a panel discussion about scientists and politics. I won't bore you with the details, just that it made me realize there are so many scientists who can't communicate at all. As soon as I hear someone who can't speak the language, I zone out; it's just too much effort to concentrate and grasp what they are trying to say. I wasn't the only one, I could see scientists left and right dozing off. It's a shame, I thought: at this conference there may be two people who can each solve each others problems, but if they can't understand each other, there's no possibility of collaboration that could lead to breakthroughs.
I did learn more about how my mom's lab was developing a HIV vaccine. It's all based on the research they've done with a group of Kenyan prostitutes who are HIV immune. The key seems to be in calming down the immune system's response to the virus.
The next day we drove to Arusha where the conference would officially end. It took place in the same complex where the criminals of the Rwandan Genocide were being tried. There was a petite blonde taking pictures of the event with telephoto lens. I asked her how much it cost and where she was from. She replied $10000 and Zimbabwe, I guessed one of the whites who fled the madness of Mugabe.
We entered a large circular lecture hall; it was large, wood-paneled and seated about five hundred. As I looked to the centre of the room, I wondered what horrible revelations had echoed inside these walls.
My Pavlovian instincts developed in college took over and I dozed off. I regretted doing so upon waking, as I had missed half of a really interesting presentation given by a Nobel laureate. There was a lot of talk about innovation, and plenty of creative ideas like growing human stem cells in mice that you can do better vaccine and drug tests.
Honestly, I don't remember too much of what happened these days. I was weak from a sickness and a lack of good food. I was looking forward to a change of scenery.
Eurafrika Pt. 11 - Ugh
The next day I woke up early, earlier than usual. I was sniffling a little, but otherwise felt fine.
Then all of a sudden I started getting these painful cramps. I rushed to the toilet; we would become well acquainted for the next 24 hours.
I lied down in bed wondering where I had gone wrong. I brushed my teeth using bottled water, I was careful with which (unappetizing) food items I ate. I tried to keep things balanced eating dairy products, meat with the occasional salad...
...Salad, rinsed with their own water...
FUCK!
It turns out that diarrhea may be inevitable for any inexperienced traveler. The body is simply not used to the bacteria in foreign food and expels them the only way it knows how.
I took Pepto, Kaopectate, garlic pills, anti-diarrhea pills in addition to the anti-malaria and accutane pills I was already taking. I felt like a walking pharmacy. Fortunately, I got things under control pretty quickly. There was a bidet in the bathroom, and that helped too.
After I had recovered sufficiently, me and my dad headed of to a snake village. We had nothing better to do. It was interesting and disturbing: I saw a black mamba, the world's deadliest snake. It stared at us with its dark, sinister eyes. In other enclosures, there were cobras, rattlesnakes and pythons. In one of them, lay a sleepy serpent, perfectly camouflaged and a scared yellow chick standing beside it's dead brethren, aware of its fate. I felt for this poor bird, but the snakes like their meals warm.
Small birds aren't the only things these snakes eat. On the wall of the pythons enclosure were stories of them eating sleeping security guards. It wasn't all grim about snakes: I learned that if you encounter a cobra, you'll have better luck with a spitting one than a non-spitting one as their venom is only cytotoxic instead of neurotoxic.
Snakes weren't the only animals: there were owls (Africans kill them because for them are a symbol of death), falcons, tortoises and crocodiles. I got to hold one of the crocodiles; apparently they keep growing until they die.
After exploring the snake village, we went through a Maasai museum. It was a tourist trap: the exit led to a bunch of huts selling rings, necklaces and all kinds of colorful junk. We got out of their, but not after buying a necklace for my mom and a bracelet for myself. It helps their economy, I guess.
I immediately collapsed in bed when we got back. I rested, watching a story on Al-Jazeera about a woman who forgives the man who murdered her daughter. I thought it could be the basis of an interesting novel, where the hero is a murderer given a second chance and saves others as an act of redemption. I then passed out.
Then all of a sudden I started getting these painful cramps. I rushed to the toilet; we would become well acquainted for the next 24 hours.
I lied down in bed wondering where I had gone wrong. I brushed my teeth using bottled water, I was careful with which (unappetizing) food items I ate. I tried to keep things balanced eating dairy products, meat with the occasional salad...
...Salad, rinsed with their own water...
FUCK!
It turns out that diarrhea may be inevitable for any inexperienced traveler. The body is simply not used to the bacteria in foreign food and expels them the only way it knows how.
I took Pepto, Kaopectate, garlic pills, anti-diarrhea pills in addition to the anti-malaria and accutane pills I was already taking. I felt like a walking pharmacy. Fortunately, I got things under control pretty quickly. There was a bidet in the bathroom, and that helped too.
After I had recovered sufficiently, me and my dad headed of to a snake village. We had nothing better to do. It was interesting and disturbing: I saw a black mamba, the world's deadliest snake. It stared at us with its dark, sinister eyes. In other enclosures, there were cobras, rattlesnakes and pythons. In one of them, lay a sleepy serpent, perfectly camouflaged and a scared yellow chick standing beside it's dead brethren, aware of its fate. I felt for this poor bird, but the snakes like their meals warm.
Small birds aren't the only things these snakes eat. On the wall of the pythons enclosure were stories of them eating sleeping security guards. It wasn't all grim about snakes: I learned that if you encounter a cobra, you'll have better luck with a spitting one than a non-spitting one as their venom is only cytotoxic instead of neurotoxic.
Snakes weren't the only animals: there were owls (Africans kill them because for them are a symbol of death), falcons, tortoises and crocodiles. I got to hold one of the crocodiles; apparently they keep growing until they die.
After exploring the snake village, we went through a Maasai museum. It was a tourist trap: the exit led to a bunch of huts selling rings, necklaces and all kinds of colorful junk. We got out of their, but not after buying a necklace for my mom and a bracelet for myself. It helps their economy, I guess.
I immediately collapsed in bed when we got back. I rested, watching a story on Al-Jazeera about a woman who forgives the man who murdered her daughter. I thought it could be the basis of an interesting novel, where the hero is a murderer given a second chance and saves others as an act of redemption. I then passed out.
Eurafrika Pt. 10 - A Blue (Net) Day
We woke up early the next day - the roosters made sure we couldn't sleep in. The plan for the day was to see for ourselves the frontlines of the war against malaria: we would be visiting a nearby rice village and later the factory where they make the nets. I would get my first taste of how Africans lived.
So we got into a bus with a group of about 15 or so other scientists. I probably should have mentioned it earlier that the whole reason I was able to go to Africa was that it conveniently coincided with one of my mom's conferences. And not just any conference; this was the Gates Grand Challenge Conference. Here in Tanzania, hundreds of scientists sponsored by Bill Gates' money, were gathered to discuss their latest progress in fighting the world's worst diseases. My mom was there because she was part of a team trying to find an HIV vaccine.
Now back to where that bus was going. We drove to a nearby rice village. On the way kids were smiling and waving at us; I felt like royalty. The people were poor, but seeing them did not make me sad. They were getting on with their lives, cheerfully, unlike the helpless poverty so common back home. There were no mud huts, just simple masonry buildings with funny names like "Texas Club".
So we arrived at the rice village and went out to visit the homes. For a place with lots of standing water and a deadly mosquito-borne disease, I was surprised by how few mosquitos there were. I don't think I was bitten once that day. We visited one of the homes. There were chickens walking about and kids playing, one with a toy he had clearly made himself. I thought I'd entertain the kids and made a paper airplane from one of the sheets in my bag; it flew well and they loved it.
In the village, we went from home to home. For a farm, I was surprised by how little it smelled. The houses were simple and small, the largest with four rooms. One of them had electricity wired with a TV. What stood out was that all of them had these were these bright blue mosquito nets covering the beds. These weren't any nets either - these ones were embedded with insecticide. These nets were mean't to stop malaria in its tracks.
Malaria is a horrible disease; that much I knew. It kills millions of people every year. As I write this I am still taking anti-malarial medication, almost three weeks out of Africa. What I did not know, or rather what I had no sense for, was how it devastated peoples' lives and prevented them from lifting themselves out of poverty. It makes farmers too sick and weak to harvest crops, it forces parents to stop working to take care of their sick kids who are missing cool. It kills prosperity before it can grow.
As we left, I thought it would be nice to leave the kids a little souvenir. I grabbed my wallet for some Canadian pennies. This was a mistake; I was immediately surrounded by grabby kids. One of the organizers gave the kids some bottles of war. As our van drove off, I could see them fighting each other over them. It seemed an allegory for the continent I was now in. I guess wealth is something that must be earned and learned.
On the bus ride to the factory, I began to appreciate was how effective nets could be in eradicating malaria. None of the villagers had had malaria in over a year.
To understand how the nets could stop malaria, it's important to understand how Malaria works. Malaria is caused by the Plasmodium parasite and is carried by mosquitos. These mosquitos bite people, who are then infected with Malaria and bed-ridden. While immobilized by the symptoms of Malaria, these people are bitten by more mosquitos that then incubate the parasites and spread it to other victims.
Now here's why the nets are so effective. It should be noted that only a certain species of mosquito transmits malaria, and that these mosquitoes are most active at night when people are asleep. If the mosquitoes can't infect humans or bite infected humans because all of them sleep in insecticide-laced nets, the disease can't spread. If the disease can't spread, it quickly dies out as its host mosquitoes die out.
On our way to the net factory, we passed through Arusha town. It wasn't really a town anymore: it's population had grown to over 300,000 with the rapid urbanization that is taking place all over the continent. The town was filled with the generic masonry buildings with a few large modern buildings poking out. There were tons of these buildings that looked like they were under construction and then suddenly abandoned. There were no sidewalks, but tons of people walking along the side of the road. I saw some kids playing on a broken tree limb lying in an open storm sewer.
Arusha town was also the frontlines to another war: the Cola Wars. Every shop had either a Coke sign or a dark-blue Pepsi sign on it. It seemed at first that Pepsi was winning, but it just happened that their signs were far larger and more colorful. The coke was cheap too: only 350 Tsh (about 30 cents Canadian).
Eventually, we made our way through the busy streets of Arusha town to the outskirts where the plant lay. The Olyset Plant is a large, tightly-guarded compound; it was guarded by an armed guard and enclosed with a high brick wall. The whole place was very clean and modern, the product of a partnership between a long-established African textile compound and a Japanese chemical manufacturer.
We were given a tour of the plant and saw every step in how a net is made. Little blue insecticide-containing pellets were melted down, stretched into threads, weaved, cut and sewn into nets and then packaged. There were tons of young people around my age working; the plant employed 6400 workers. It was clockwork; the director said they expected to make 30 million nets that year.
There were questions at the end the of the tour, very good questions. The company made it clear they wanted to branch off into for-profit ventures. This sparked a flurry of ideas in my head of licensing the technology, of using the insecticide-laced material in tents for camping. Every problem is really an opportunity.
We drove back to the lodge. I saw all kinds of western icons as we went drove through town: Obama stickers, White Sox and Yankees logos, even a Colorado Avalanche Jacket. However, what people really idolized was football (soccer). The game was everywhere: fans were waving flags and chanting for the local team, all over town there were sportsbars showing La Liga and Premier League games and there were giant billboards displaying the heroes themselves. One Pepsi billboard featured some of the brightest stars: Kaka, Torres, Henry, Fabregas and Lampard with a very silly grin. Football truly is the world's game.
By the time we got back, I was exhausted by the overwhelming amount of new experience I was taking in. We ate dinner; my appetite still missing. 'At least I was still healthy' I though to myself. That was about to change in a big way.
So we got into a bus with a group of about 15 or so other scientists. I probably should have mentioned it earlier that the whole reason I was able to go to Africa was that it conveniently coincided with one of my mom's conferences. And not just any conference; this was the Gates Grand Challenge Conference. Here in Tanzania, hundreds of scientists sponsored by Bill Gates' money, were gathered to discuss their latest progress in fighting the world's worst diseases. My mom was there because she was part of a team trying to find an HIV vaccine.
Now back to where that bus was going. We drove to a nearby rice village. On the way kids were smiling and waving at us; I felt like royalty. The people were poor, but seeing them did not make me sad. They were getting on with their lives, cheerfully, unlike the helpless poverty so common back home. There were no mud huts, just simple masonry buildings with funny names like "Texas Club".
So we arrived at the rice village and went out to visit the homes. For a place with lots of standing water and a deadly mosquito-borne disease, I was surprised by how few mosquitos there were. I don't think I was bitten once that day. We visited one of the homes. There were chickens walking about and kids playing, one with a toy he had clearly made himself. I thought I'd entertain the kids and made a paper airplane from one of the sheets in my bag; it flew well and they loved it.
In the village, we went from home to home. For a farm, I was surprised by how little it smelled. The houses were simple and small, the largest with four rooms. One of them had electricity wired with a TV. What stood out was that all of them had these were these bright blue mosquito nets covering the beds. These weren't any nets either - these ones were embedded with insecticide. These nets were mean't to stop malaria in its tracks.
Malaria is a horrible disease; that much I knew. It kills millions of people every year. As I write this I am still taking anti-malarial medication, almost three weeks out of Africa. What I did not know, or rather what I had no sense for, was how it devastated peoples' lives and prevented them from lifting themselves out of poverty. It makes farmers too sick and weak to harvest crops, it forces parents to stop working to take care of their sick kids who are missing cool. It kills prosperity before it can grow.
As we left, I thought it would be nice to leave the kids a little souvenir. I grabbed my wallet for some Canadian pennies. This was a mistake; I was immediately surrounded by grabby kids. One of the organizers gave the kids some bottles of war. As our van drove off, I could see them fighting each other over them. It seemed an allegory for the continent I was now in. I guess wealth is something that must be earned and learned.
On the bus ride to the factory, I began to appreciate was how effective nets could be in eradicating malaria. None of the villagers had had malaria in over a year.
To understand how the nets could stop malaria, it's important to understand how Malaria works. Malaria is caused by the Plasmodium parasite and is carried by mosquitos. These mosquitos bite people, who are then infected with Malaria and bed-ridden. While immobilized by the symptoms of Malaria, these people are bitten by more mosquitos that then incubate the parasites and spread it to other victims.
Now here's why the nets are so effective. It should be noted that only a certain species of mosquito transmits malaria, and that these mosquitoes are most active at night when people are asleep. If the mosquitoes can't infect humans or bite infected humans because all of them sleep in insecticide-laced nets, the disease can't spread. If the disease can't spread, it quickly dies out as its host mosquitoes die out.
On our way to the net factory, we passed through Arusha town. It wasn't really a town anymore: it's population had grown to over 300,000 with the rapid urbanization that is taking place all over the continent. The town was filled with the generic masonry buildings with a few large modern buildings poking out. There were tons of these buildings that looked like they were under construction and then suddenly abandoned. There were no sidewalks, but tons of people walking along the side of the road. I saw some kids playing on a broken tree limb lying in an open storm sewer.
Arusha town was also the frontlines to another war: the Cola Wars. Every shop had either a Coke sign or a dark-blue Pepsi sign on it. It seemed at first that Pepsi was winning, but it just happened that their signs were far larger and more colorful. The coke was cheap too: only 350 Tsh (about 30 cents Canadian).
Eventually, we made our way through the busy streets of Arusha town to the outskirts where the plant lay. The Olyset Plant is a large, tightly-guarded compound; it was guarded by an armed guard and enclosed with a high brick wall. The whole place was very clean and modern, the product of a partnership between a long-established African textile compound and a Japanese chemical manufacturer.
We were given a tour of the plant and saw every step in how a net is made. Little blue insecticide-containing pellets were melted down, stretched into threads, weaved, cut and sewn into nets and then packaged. There were tons of young people around my age working; the plant employed 6400 workers. It was clockwork; the director said they expected to make 30 million nets that year.
There were questions at the end the of the tour, very good questions. The company made it clear they wanted to branch off into for-profit ventures. This sparked a flurry of ideas in my head of licensing the technology, of using the insecticide-laced material in tents for camping. Every problem is really an opportunity.
We drove back to the lodge. I saw all kinds of western icons as we went drove through town: Obama stickers, White Sox and Yankees logos, even a Colorado Avalanche Jacket. However, what people really idolized was football (soccer). The game was everywhere: fans were waving flags and chanting for the local team, all over town there were sportsbars showing La Liga and Premier League games and there were giant billboards displaying the heroes themselves. One Pepsi billboard featured some of the brightest stars: Kaka, Torres, Henry, Fabregas and Lampard with a very silly grin. Football truly is the world's game.
By the time we got back, I was exhausted by the overwhelming amount of new experience I was taking in. We ate dinner; my appetite still missing. 'At least I was still healthy' I though to myself. That was about to change in a big way.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Eurafrika Pt. 9 - A Thoughtful Evening
So we got back to the lodge, ate dinner and went to bed. I spent the evening reading both Malcolm Gladwell's the Tipping Point and Sailing Alone Around the World by Joshua Slocum. I felt it was good to mix up my reading between storytelling and educating.
The Tipping Point is all about what makes certain ideas spread like wildfire. I was reading about the key players that spread ideas: Connectors, Mavens and Salesman. A Connector is the person you know who just know everyone. I thought of a girl I knew who had over 1000 friends on Facebook. A Maven is someone who spends their own time becoming expert on a topic, especially one about products or services. I thought of my dad: if I want to ask him about anything political going on in the world, I just ask him. And a salesman, well you can figure that one out.
Sailing Alone Around the World is as the title suggests, but reading it was more interesting than I'd imagine it to be. It's the true story of a skilled sailor who sails sometimes for months without seeing land, narrowly escapes pirates, is accompanied by dolphins, faces off with an infamous murderer and has his boat blown miles of course by a fierce gale at the southern edge of the earth.
I've always dreamed of sailing around the world, however, even if I did, part of me felt the magic of this adventure would be impossible to recapture. As technology advances, I feel a little magic and disappears in the world. I just have to search 'Antarctica' to see its glaciers. But, maybe I'm wrong. Perhaps, the magic is still there - that you just have to dig deeper and experience it.
With these thoughts I went to sleep. I had no idea what was happening tomorrow, nor did I want to know. I let tomorrow preserve its magic. I let it be a mystery.
The Tipping Point is all about what makes certain ideas spread like wildfire. I was reading about the key players that spread ideas: Connectors, Mavens and Salesman. A Connector is the person you know who just know everyone. I thought of a girl I knew who had over 1000 friends on Facebook. A Maven is someone who spends their own time becoming expert on a topic, especially one about products or services. I thought of my dad: if I want to ask him about anything political going on in the world, I just ask him. And a salesman, well you can figure that one out.
Sailing Alone Around the World is as the title suggests, but reading it was more interesting than I'd imagine it to be. It's the true story of a skilled sailor who sails sometimes for months without seeing land, narrowly escapes pirates, is accompanied by dolphins, faces off with an infamous murderer and has his boat blown miles of course by a fierce gale at the southern edge of the earth.
I've always dreamed of sailing around the world, however, even if I did, part of me felt the magic of this adventure would be impossible to recapture. As technology advances, I feel a little magic and disappears in the world. I just have to search 'Antarctica' to see its glaciers. But, maybe I'm wrong. Perhaps, the magic is still there - that you just have to dig deeper and experience it.
With these thoughts I went to sleep. I had no idea what was happening tomorrow, nor did I want to know. I let tomorrow preserve its magic. I let it be a mystery.
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