Grand Theft Safari (6 page)

Chapter Eight

LAKE BOGORIA

We crossed the equator. We would never have realized it except for the painted wooden signs that told us. Of course, Tomas wanted to get out of the truck and have his picture taken.

“Stand by the sign with me, Marisol,” Tomas begged.

“Fine,” I said.

Mom hopped out of the truck too. She took our photo by the sign.

“Look, I'm in the Northern Hemisphere,” Tomas laughed as he stepped behind the sign. “Look, now I'm in the Southern Hemisphere.”

“How does that affect the seasons?” I asked. Tomas let out an irritated huh sound. Clearly, he thought my question was stupid.

Mom gave Tomas a look that told him he better zip his lips and be nice.

“Well, Marisol, it means that there really isn't winter or summer here,” Mom explained. “It's just hot all year round.”

Back home, in Chicago, we had all four seasons. We had crisp, cool autumns, bitterly cold and snowy winters, cool and rainy springs, and hot summers. I couldn't imagine living in a place that never changed seasons. What would people on the street discuss if they didn't have the weather to talk about?

“The rainfall changes slightly throughout the year,” Mom said as she interrupted my musings. “Parts of Kenya will receive huge amounts of rainfall in April and May. It even causes flooding. But the rest of the year, it's very hot and dry. Hard to survive, I imagine.”

After our photo session at the equator sign, Nigel wanted to push onward to reach Lake Bogoria well before dark. No one liked driving through the wilderness once the sun set.

Rough roads took us northeast to Lake Bogoria, one of Kenya's most famous soda lakes in the Rift Valley. It was called a soda lake because it has high levels of alkaline. This lets green algae grow.
Mom was more than excited about the green algae because the lesser flamingoes devour green algae. She knew she'd find the birds at Lake Bogoria for sure.

“We have some time. Let's drive around Lake Bogoria before we set up camp,” Nigel suggested. “I'm sure you can't wait to see the flamingoes.”

Mom nodded and said, “Now I can really start my research.”

Nigel drove us to the shoreline of the lake. Hot water shot high into the air.

“What's that?” yelled Tomas as he pointed to the plume of water in the air.

“It is a geyser. Lake Bogoria has geysers and boiling hot springs that pour into the lake,” Nigel told us.

“Can we touch the water or jump through it, like at a water park?” Tomas asked.

“Oh no,” Mom shook her head. “You would be burned to bits in seconds.”

A squawking flock of hundreds of pink flamingoes soared across the sky. Mom jumped up and down, “There they are! There they are!” She fumbled in her backpack for her camera.

Mom rushed to the lake's shore just as the flamingoes skidded to a landing in the water. The water was shallow and the birds walked easily through it.

“Noisy bunch, aren't they?” Dad joked. He was right. Hundreds of birds were anything but silent. They swept their hooked beaks through the water, feasting on microorganisms. They danced, jumped, and played with one another.

Mom took more photos. She turned around and smiled at us. “I have so much work to do here. Collect water samples, feather samples, record flight patterns. I can't wait to get started. But,” she paused, “you all look like it's time to set up camp and cook dinner.”

We climbed back into the truck. Nigel drove us away from the lake and the boiling hot springs, to drier land near the shady trees. Like we did in Maasai Mara, we set up our new tents in a circle around a fire pit. Nigel built the shower shelter off to the side of our camp for privacy. We unloaded our food canisters, water canisters, and research equipment. By the time we unpacked, we were sweaty and exhausted.

“I'll cook dinner tonight, Nigel,” Mom offered. “You drove all day. I'm sure you could use a rest.”

Nigel willingly let Mom take over dinner duty. Mom boiled water, noodles, and canned beans. It was not fancy but it was almost well balanced. It filled our stomachs.

After dinner, Mom planned out her next week at Lake Bogoria. She organized her research tent, with labeled vials and empty charts. Dad planned our days. We'd get to exercise and explore in the morning while it was still cool out. In the afternoons, we'd do our school work with Dad. Nigel and Elea would go where they were needed most. But, after the crocodile attack in Maasai Mara, Dad told Nigel he'd like it if he and Elea would stay close to Mom at the lake.

In the mornings, Tomas and I walked along the lake, mesmerized by the noisy pink flamingoes. We stayed close to Mom. We even helped her collect vials full of lake water. She wanted to measure the chemical levels in the lake to learn more about the flamingoes' natural habitat. A few years ago, hundreds of lesser flamingoes were found dead near the lake. Scientists aren't sure what caused
it. Mom was hoping to get to the bottom of the mystery.

One afternoon, after our school session with Dad, he gave us some free time.

“Dad wants some peace and quiet. I think we drove him wild with all that algebra today,” Tomas joked.

“You know it.” I giggled. Tomas and I had Dad all figured out. Dad is a historian. He likes books and literature. Math, not so much. A tough algebra session filled with tons of questions from two twelve-year olds pushed Dad to his wits' end.

Dad padded off to our sleeping tent, with a novel in his hands. Tomas elbowed me in my ribs. “See, I told you so.”

Nigel, Mom, and Elea were still by the lake, studying the flamingoes. They wouldn't be back to camp for hours.

“What do you want to do?” I asked Tomas.

“Let's go for a drive!” he said.

Tomas's eyes twinkled mischievously.

“One problem. We don't know how to drive,” I reminded him.

“I've been watching Nigel for the past month. He may have let me drive once or twice. I've got it figured out,” Tomas reassured me. “Besides, there's a strand of trees about five or six miles away. I want to check them out.”

I gave this idea some thought.

“Oh come on, Marisol. There's not another car around for miles. It's not like we're going to run
into anyone!” Tomas was practically begging me now.

“Oh, fine. You win. But I get to drive first.” I said.

“Mari! No! I get to drive first!”

“Well you better hurry then before Dad realizes the truck is missing!” I said to him as I ran to the truck.

Tomas and I ran through the tall grass, jostling each other to get to the driver's side first. Tomas shoved me and I fell face first into the grass. Tomas let out a “Ha-ha!” and sprung into the driver's seat. I scrambled to my feet, threw Tomas an angry look, and stomped over to the passenger's side.

“You better start the engine quietly. Then drive slowly so Dad doesn't hear us leaving,” I ordered him.

“Maybe you should go over to the tent, just to see what Dad's doing.”

“Oh, okay,” I grumbled.

I got out of the truck and crept silently to the tent. I peeked into the small mesh window, hoping Dad would be listening to the radio, with headphones on. Instead, I saw Dad lying on his
back with an open book on his face. He was snoring so loudly he sounded like a freight train.

I crept back to the truck.

“Dad is sound asleep,” I said.

Tomas fist pumped the air. “Yes! Let's get out of here.”

He cranked the key and the engine started.

“Here's the gas pedal. Here's the brake,” he said to himself, pointing his right foot to each one.

Tomas eased the truck past the camp. We were going in a straight line, straight away from the lake.

When we got out of earshot, Tomas felt braver. He pushed the gas pedal down, a little too firmly, and we picked up speed. The valley was rough and unpaved. As we sped across the grassland, we bounced out of our seats.

“Whoa! You better let off the gas!” I yelled at him.

He started to slow down but then we plunged down a hill, nose first.

“Tomi!” I screamed as I reached out to grab his arm. Tomas jerked the steering wheel to the left and right.

Luckily, the hill was small, and only bumped us around and slowed us down.

“Tomi, watch where you're driving!” I shouted and punched him in the arm.

“It's no big deal. Calm down,” he barked at me.

He picked up speed again across the flat land. The strand of trees was getting closer and closer to us.

“Look! We're almost there!” he said excitedly, pointing to the trees.

“What's the big deal with the trees?” I asked.

“Oh, you'll see,” he smiled.

As we got closer to the trees, Tomas slowed the truck down. He pulled the binoculars out from the backseat.

“Scan the tree branches,” he said.

I held the binoculars and stared into the trees. Under the dark branches, I saw a pair of cheetahs.

“Cheetahs!” I gasped.

“See, I told you it would be worth it,” he said.

The lean spotted cats lounged in the shade, grooming each another. Two cubs popped up out of the grass. They chased and tumbled over one another.

“How did you know cheetahs were here?” I asked Tomas.

“Nigel told me Elea was barking like bonkers on their morning walk. He found cheetah scat not far from our camp. He also said that cheetahs like shady spots on hot days.”

“This is awesome,” I told him. “I've seen cheetahs in zoos before but I never thought I'd see them in the wild.”

Tomas checked his watch. “We better get back to camp so we make it back before Mom and Nigel do.”

“Or before Dad wakes up,” I reminded him.

Tomas started to rev the engine. “Hold on there, twin brother. It's my turn to drive,” I reminded him as I climbed over him and pushed him out of the driver's seat.

I adjusted the truck's mirrors, buckled my seatbelt, and hit the gas. We lurched forward,
toward the cheetahs. The big cats sped away.

“Mari! You need to put it in reverse!” Tomas yelped.

“Whoops!” I laughed. I flipped the handle into the reverse position.

I pushed the gas pedal and we jerked backward.

“Step on it lightly. Don't stomp it!” Tomas laughed. He thought it was funny that I was messing up.

I tried it again, lighter this time. We cruised slowly backward. Now that we were away from the cheetahs, Tomas told me to turn the steering wheel, to head back to camp.

I turned and turned the wheel. It was hard to get the truck through the tall grass and the dirt. Soon we were turned around, pointed in the right direction.

I drove slower than Tomas did, careful not to hit any ruts in the savannah.

“Hurry,” Tomas said. “We'll never make it back to camp before they catch us.”

“Shush,” I said, “I'm trying not to cause an accident.”

“You drive like a granny,” Tomas snapped.

“Be quiet! I can't concentrate!”

That's when we saw them. Mom, Dad, Nigel, and Elea. They stood facing us, near the camp. Mom had her hands on her hips. Dad had his arms folded across his chest, with a scowl on his face.