Catching Monkeys and Chasing Snakes

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A few people have been asking me specifically if I've seen any snakes or caught any monkeys, and you'll no doubt be glad to hear that I have done both. I'll start with the monkeys, those pesky little monkeys.

The Monkeys

Many of the camps we've stayed at have had various species of monkeys swinging about in the trees above our tents, often coming down to see what's going on. They're mainly vervet or colubus monkeys, but occasionally there are a few baboons causing havoc as well. At first, I really enjoyed their company - I thought it was awesome, that is, until they eventually made their move on us one day.

It happened at Lake Naivasha, a beautifully huge freshwater lake in South Eastern Kenya, which is home to hundreds and hundreds of hippos who come ashore to graze at night only metres from the tents. (There's a disturbingly low electric fence separating the campers from the hippos, which I believe doesn't work - but apparently the hippos don't care much for tents anyway.) The whole group of us had left the campsite for the day and hired bikes to cycle around Hell's Gate National Park. The day was fantastic, we left in the morning and cycled from one end of the park to the other, then back along the main roads. However, nothing would prepare us for the sight we would encounter upon arriving back at our truck.

Our driver was sitting there on a log, holding a cricket bat and shaking his head. I approached him, and asked him what was wrong, and he just pointed to the truck. I didn't notice the monkey footprints along the side of the dusty truck, clearly marking out their escape routes. I didn't notice the mango peels and pineapple skins strewn around the ground and hanging from the rooftop. I did, however, notice that the tarp covering the entrance was flying open in the breeze, and that there was a particularly delicious fruit salad smell emanating from the inside of the truck...

Needless to say, the monkeys had finally struck, breaking into the truck when the driver wasn't around, stealing all our fresh food and for some reason developing a taste for raw spaghetti. The place was a mess. It reminded me of Jumanji when the monkeys took over the kitchen. It must have been the same thing. They wrecked the place. Apparently the driver found the last one in there, and chased him with the cricket bat but it was all too late, they had attacked and drawn the first blood. Monkeys: 1, Hardened and perhaps a touch naive safari goers: 0. We made quick plans to retaliate.

Revenge

The next morning, thanks to an evening of plotting and scheming by the campfire, we set up the old classic empty barrel trap. We tied a huge length of string to a hammer, and propped the hammer under the rim of an upturned metal bin barrel. A few pieces of corn were left around the edge of the trap, and we scraped some kernals right into the back of the trap. And then we waited.

It didn't take long, the monkeys were too hungry and too daring. They were certainly clever, using their long arms to reach as much as they could, constantly watching us in case of an ambush. Eventually, they had taken it all. All except the scraped kernals at the very back...

One of them, perhaps the bravest, perhaps the most foolish, made the decision to get right in there. He scuttled inside, and before he knew it - the string was pulled and he was caught inside. We rejoiced for a moment, then noticed all the monkeys had turned nasty. They started screeching and staring, and we began to back off. It was all quite funny for a while, until the first glimpses of sympathy began to creep out of our group. It didn't take long before we let the monkey free, some of us feeling ashamed, some of us secretly glad that the humans had levelled the score. Either way, however we felt, when we arrived back the next day from a boat ride through the hippos we found our truck untouched, and a line of solemn monkeys up in the trees, bowing their head to us in what was a clear respect for a superior species. Or perhaps they were just watching us and plotting against the next humans to camp under their trees.....

Chasing Snakes

The snake story is another that I can't see myself forgetting for a while. It happened at the top of the Ngong hills, once again in Kenya.

I man named Martin tracked me down at my campsite near Nairobi, and introduced himself as an old friend of my Dad from the old days. I was shocked; this was the Martin I had heard stories about throughout my childhood. The same Martin who had scars along his belly from an encounter with a machine gun. The same Martin who had crossed the Sahara with my Dad in the 70's. The same Martin who had made a life running tours ALL over Africa - and he was standing right in front of me, inviting me for dinner at his house.

I didn't think twice, I ditched the safari for the night and headed out of the city to his place, an amazing house overlooking the Great Rift Valley. His house was extraordinary. It was like an African exhibition museum showcasing every country in the continent. There were paintings of all kinds of wildlife on the wall, animal hides on the floor, wooden carvings of rhinos, giraffe, elephants - you name it - everywhere. There were pygmy bow and arrows and crossbows mounted on the walls, decorated in monkey fur. There were potplants with hippo heads coming out of the side, holding who knows what kind of African plants. Everywhere I looked, something caught my attention and held it. He could have charged an entry fee, I'm not kidding.

After I had taken in the house, we moved out the back and looked out over the hills and the Valley, and he told me about some old times. I was mesmerised by his stories, and he talked about how Africa has changed, where he thinks it's heading and what will become of Kenya. He continued telling me old stories for some time, when suddenly, he stopped mid sentence. "What's that?" he asked, pointing to some sort of animal in the grass about ten metres away. His dogs noticed too, and began to get restless. We both looked at a slender head poking its head ten, fifteen centimetres into the air. And then it moved, sliding from side to side towards us a few metres before stopping again, and raising its head to look around. Martin jumped up, paused for a second, then said "Shit, it's an Egyptian Cobra... keep an eye on it, I'm getting rid of the dogs."

I stood up and looked at the snake, not daring to take my eyes off it for a second. The back door shut behind me and the dogs went quiet. I moved out into the garden a little keeping my distance from the snake, trying to find a clear opening where I guess I figured I could have run for my life if the snake felt like tasting Australian ankle. I realized I had no shoes on, and wondered what on Earth I was doing, but completely excited to see what would happen next.

I think the snake sensed a whole lot of movement or something, because the next thing I knew he turned and slithered in the direction he had come, and it was now that I saw how tremendously huge he was. In fact, as he moved over a raised garden bed I truly thought there were two of them because his body was sliding in after him for such a long time. Anyway, I followed him to see where he was going. Once again, I must say I don't know what I was doing - I'll admit I know nothing about the Egyptian Cobra, but I do know that the word cobra isn't Swahili (or Egyptian) for friendly, or harmless for that matter.

The snake stopped again, and from my vantage point on the other side of the garden bed and on slightly higher ground, I saw what a magnificent creature it was. It was quite long, at least two metres, and stood out black against the green of the lawn. It was at this moment that the back door opened again and I almost laughed at what I saw...

Martin came out swinging an enormous Tuareg sword, the kind of sword you would draw if someone asked you to design the most spectacularly cut throat and swashbuckling sword of all time. (The Tuareg are the camel-riding people of the Sahara, dressed in brilliant light blue and carrying awesome weapons - look at the first picture that comes up on wikipedia if you want an idea).

"Where is the bastard?" Martin asked, and I pointed as the snake moved off under an old truck. Unarmed, I stayed a distance away as he scouted the area, but concluded that it was too tough to get the snake in his own territory. We left it for this time, and Martin put the sword back on the wall as we headed back inside (decorative and practical). He told me that they had actually found one in the house once, and found his shed skin under the fridge much later. Needless to say, it was with great hesitance I decided to take the spare room that night.

The next day, Martin offered a local Kenyan a thousand shillings to kill the snake, and he accepted the challenge. As we begain the drive back out of the hills and into Nairobi, I realized I'll probably never know what became of the snake (or the Kenyan). I am sure of one thing though; the image of Martin leaving the house armed and dangerous to save his dogs will stay with me for a long time to come.

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Photos

Lake Naivasha in the Evening
If you look carefully, you can see hippo heads all along the waterline. They apparently kill more humans than any other animal in Africa.

Hell's Gate
Bike Riding through Hell's Gate National Park. Awesome day.

Monkeys
Cheeky monkeys at Jinja in Uganda, that's the Nile River in the background

More monkeys
I know they look pretty cute, sitting there all innocent like... But that big bastard on the left tried to kill me when he saw me eating a banana.

The Rift Valley
I don't really think a photo could ever do this baby justice, it's really too magnificent to capture. It runs from Kenya all the way to Egypt, and it really felt like you could see most of the way.

Me and Martin
Martin, without sword.

Comments

[Tom]

Wow
Sounds like fun. I hope you bought me a monkey back...

[MGD]

Good to see all is going well but do have a few comments - the electric fences are actually designed to keep the people away from the hippos, not vis a vesa - you have probably made a mistake re the size of the Egyptian Cobra and uderestimated its size . Based on well documented zooalogical date the Kenyan variety would almost certainly have been at least three meters long, if not more - lastly, not sure, but understand that it was either this Martin that you refer to (or perhaps his travelling companion??) who served as the original model for Indianna Jones (think that there is some sort of referece to this in the official IJ website

[Olivers Travels]

Re: size of cobra...
For those questioning my description of the snake's size, please understand that I was measuring it in Kenyan notation. It was only the tail that was 2 metres. That should give you a better idea.

[Julie]

Love your blog Oliver, Africa looks absolutely gorgeous !! Wow ! It's great to read all your adventures ! Keep up the good work ! Enjoy Europe, please feel free to visit my family in Burgundy. I'll be there for 2 weeks in August, would you still be there ?

[Vic Bongiorno]

Good Read Oliver
Your not the little boy I remember you as. You would probably not remember me but regards to Peter and Ruth. If you are emailing Martin also pass on regards (and email) from myself and Rob Gain (Kiwi from Christchurch) Martin's class of '79 Cheeers Oliver Vic

[Judee]

Cheeky monkeys
Like the story about the monkeys. Cunning little devils. Reminds me of the time in Kandy, Sri Lanka, when we had monkeys in our hotel room and had to try and shoo them out...How interesting that they reacted collectively to the capture... and also their ''collective posture" of the following day. Good read, O. Thanks.