Grand Theft Safari (2 page)

“I want to go swimming,” Tomas demanded. He unzipped his suitcase and tossed his clothes all over the floor.

“I'll take them to the pool,” Dad told Mom. “You look like you could use a nap.”

Mom did look exhausted. Weeks of planning for this trip, shopping, and packing had worn her out. Mom stretched out on one of the beds and was asleep before we had our swimsuits on.

The next day, after breakfast, Mom hired a cab to go to the university to meet the research team. Dad sat with me and Tomas in the hotel room. He spread out travel guides in front of us.

“What do you kids want to do?” he asked.

“I want to hunt a lion,” Tomas said fiercely.

“That's gross,” I scolded him. Sometimes Tomas could be so immature for a twelve year old.

“Here's what I found.” Dad broke up our argument. “We could tour a coffee plantation. Sounds like fun, doesn't it?” Dad smiled. He really looked excited about visiting a coffee plantation.

Tomas, under his breath, said, “Whoop-teedoo.”

It was settled, though. Dad hired a driver and we went to the coffee plantation. Or rather, it was the Karen Blixen Museum. Dad is a history professor. We should have known history would be part of our field trip.

Located just outside of Nairobi, the museum is really the old home of a Danish baroness, Karen Blixen. She and her husband moved to Kenya in 1917 to start a coffee plantation. The coffee plantation didn't do so well because of a factory
fire and bad harvests. By 1931, the baroness moved back to Denmark.

“Isn't this fascinating?” Dad asked as we walked through the Blixen bungalow. “Just imagine how difficult it must have been to try to run a 600-acre coffee farm in 1920. And, they weren't even Africans, they were foreigners. They had no clue what Africa would be like.” Dad stopped talking to admire the Blixen's dining room and veranda.

“What a life to wake up every morning, to see the Ngong Hills and lions.” Dad closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath, like he was trying to breathe in the experience.

“I don't know why they made this place a museum,” Tomas said rather grumpily.

“Karen Blixen was also an author. When you get older, you should read her books. Or, see the classic movie
Out of Africa
with Robert Redford. Your mom loves that movie. It's so romantic. And it's about Karen Blixen's life,” Dad said.

“I'm not watching a kissing, mushy movie,” Tomas said.

“Good. It is a movie for grownups,” Dad said.

“Let's head to the garden,” I suggested. I wanted to see the yard surrounding the plantation house.

As we walked through the gardens, Dad felt the need to teach us a history lesson.

“When Karen Blixen lived here, Kenya was controlled by Great Britain. It was a colony. The British government opened the lands to white settlers to farm. Karen Blixen was part of that. White settlers had a voice in the government but Africans did not. But, by 1963, Kenya gained independence and was no longer a colony.”

“So Kenya was kind of like America? A colony of Great Britain?” I asked Dad.

“Yes, sort of. Only it was not a colony for as long
as America was,” he said.

This caught Tomas's attention. He liked to talk about wars and military history.

“Was Kenya's fight for independence bloody?” Tomas asked.

“Of course,” Dad answered. “They had rebellions against the British as they fought for their freedom.”

Impressed by Kenya's history, Tomas took a new interest in the coffee plantation.

“So, this is a colonial plantation,” Tomas said. “Like one from the American South where there were slaves.”

“I guess you could say that, especially since Karen Blixen was European, not African. She would have been part of the colonial ruling class,” Dad said.

I had strange feelings after learning this. Part of me thought the home was beautiful and the idea of moving to a foreign land to farm sounded kind of romantic and adventurous. Until I thought about it from the African perspective. Europeans coming to take your land, farm, and make money, and you had no power to stop them. That didn't seem very
fair to me.

“Don't look so worried, Mari,” Dad reassured me. “Kenya is free and independent now. Some people think that Kenya is getting stronger each and every year.”

We walked around the gardens a little longer. The sun was setting. Many of the other tourists were heading out for the day. The Ngong hills in the distance looked peaceful.

Chapter Two

WELCOME TO MAASAI MARA

With her science gear loaded on a Land Rover, Mom whistled to us to hop in.

“Time to go to Maasai Mara!” Mom said as she revved the engine. “We've got a four hour drive and I'd like to reach camp before sunset.”

I knew Mom was in a hurry. The roads into Maasai Mara, a national reserve, were said to be rough. Mom wanted to drive during daylight. She didn't want to be stuck in the middle of nowhere at night with lions prowling around. Tomas and I stuffed our backpacks behind our seats, buckled up, and got ready to see more of Kenya.

Rains had washed out many of the roads in Maasai Mara National Reserve. The truck rumbled through muddy ruts across the grassy savannah.
Inside the truck, we rocked from left to right as Mom steered the truck through the rough terrain. Six hours later, we arrived at camp.

Our askari, or guard, was waiting for us at camp. Nigel led groups of people into the reserve every day. He was trained to track animals and protect tourists from wild animals and poachers.

“Welcome to Maasai Mara, Perez family! Make yourself at home,” Nigel said. He gestured grandly toward the camp, his arms wide.

Five small tents circled a fire pit. Off to the far side of the campsite, a taller, narrow tent stood next to a table. Nigel caught my gaze. “That's your shower and toilet,” he said. It certainly wasn't very private and not very roomy. Mom must have noticed the shocked look on my face. “It will be just fine,” she whispered to me.

Nigel had a food storage area set up too. “lion-proof containers,” he said, chuckling.

“Do we need to worry about lions?” Dad asked.

“Mr. Perez, this is a wildlife reserve. In Africa. Yes, we need to be aware of lions,” Nigel said, then whistled. I turned and saw the savannah grasses parting. From the tall grass, a large brown dog
loped toward us. The dog looked like it had a smile on its face. Running up to Nigel, the dog circled around behind him, then sat on his left. The dog looked up at Nigel, waiting for his next command. Nigel reached down and patted the dog's head. “Good, girl, Elea.” Elea looked at us, studying us as if she was trying to decide if she could trust us. Her tail soon started to wag.

“I think she approves of you.” Nigel laughed.

Tomas asked, “What kind of dog is Elea? She has a funny dark stripe down her back.”

“She is a Rhodesian Ridgeback. The Ridgebacks were bred to hunt lions,” Nigel said.

“Extra protection for us?” Dad asked, obviously he was still worried about the lions.

“Most definitely,” Nigel replied. He looked at the dog, his face beaming. “Elea is a lovely girl but she will do anything to protect me.”

“Nigel, do you have any plans for us tonight?” Mom asked. I could tell Mom wanted to unload our luggage and get settled in.

“I will have dinner cooked by seven o'clock. You are welcome to unpack and relax.”

“Thank you, Nigel,” Mom said. “Kids, let's
unload the gear from the truck. Afterward, you can set up your sleeping bags in your tent.”

“Do I have to sleep in a tent with Tomas?” I asked. Now that I'm twelve, I like privacy and I didn't want to share my space with my brother.

“I'm afraid so,” Dad answered. “We're all in one tent, to be safe.”

“Then what are the other four tents for?” I asked. I sounded angry. I was, a little.

“Medical supplies, toiletries, your mother's research gear,” Nigel answered. “And one tent for me.”

“Mari, relax. Grab your things and settle in your tent,” Mom told me. She didn't look like she was in the mood to squabble.

I was hot, tired, and hungry. Traveling by truck over rough roads for most of the day, then finding camp, and learning I'd have to sleep in the same tent as my entire family, bugged me. Mom made a sly comment that I heard when I walked back to the truck. I wasn't supposed to hear her but I did. Mom whispered to Dad and Nigel, “Teenage girls can be so moody.” That made me even grumpier. I'm not a teenager. I won't be thirteen for almost a
whole year!

Tomas thought all of this was a wild adventure. He practically danced around the campsite. He didn't care where he slept.

“Mari, what's wrong? You used to like to have fun,” Tomas asked me.

I shook my head. “I don't know. I'm just tired and sweaty. I'm ready for bed.”

Dad came over to talk to me and Tomas. “Mari, if you're tired, go to bed right after dinner. It's okay. We just planned to sit around the campfire tonight and get to know Nigel better.” Dad paused and rubbed my shoulders, trying to get me to relax. “Tomorrow, we'll have fun. We'll find zebras and giraffes.”

Nigel cooked up roasted beef and rice. Starving, I devoured three plates of food. With my belly full, I decided to go to bed.

“Goodnight,” I said as I trudged off to the tent. I was exhausted and ready to crawl into my sleeping bag. Elea trotted along behind me, licking at my hands.

“Go lay down,” I whispered to Elea. She stopped and didn't follow me into the tent. Instead, Elea
sat just outside the tent's door, sniffing the air. I felt safer with Elea nearby, watching for lions.

As I drifted off to sleep, the brilliant stars twinkled in the dark sky. Mom, Dad, Tomas, and Nigel sat around the campfire. Nigel had a guitar. He strummed the guitar and sang under the stars. I was soon fast asleep.

Chapter Three

HOT AIR BALLOON

The next morning, Nigel and Mom sat hunched over a table, studying some maps.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” Mom said with a smile.

“Where is everyone?” I asked. Tomas and Dad were nowhere to be found.

“Tomi and Dad went for a walk. They didn't want to wake you. You seemed worn out yesterday.”

I rubbed my eyes. Mom was right. But I felt much better this morning.

“All of the travel and excitement must have caught up with you yesterday,” Mom said. “Are you ready for fun today?”

“After breakfast,” I said.

“There's a plate of Spam and eggs for you in the
supply tent. It's probably still warm,” Nigel said.

I found the plate and sat near the campfire ring. Normally, I didn't care for Spam. Out here, far away from grocery stores, I couldn't be picky about what I wanted to eat. If you didn't eat it, you'd go hungry. It was that simple.

As I finished my breakfast, Tomas, Dad, and Elea came bouncing through the tall grass.

“Mari!” Tomas yelled, “We saw a giraffe! It was so awesome!”