After the business part of our last trip in late September 2016 was finished, we decided to relax by enjoying an early morning safari in Nairobi National Park. Our friend and Clean Water Kenya ‘go-to-guy’ on the ground, “Action” Jackson Kanga, who doubles as a Safari Guide at all the National Parks like Amboseli, the Maasai Mara and others, volunteered to drive us on what he described as an “unforgettable safari trip.” Little did we know what that actually would entail.
Judy, Brian and I met Jackson outside our hotel at 05:00am on a beautiful slightly chilly cloudless morning. We climbed into the van and headed towards the park south of the city as the sun gently rose above the Nairobi skyline and began to warm the air. We were pleased to find ourselves second in line for the safari. After paying our fees we drove into the park.
It was a great safari. We saw everything except cheetahs, leopards and elephants in the Park. Elephants don’t roam that close to Nairobi and the cheetahs and leopards are extremely elusive. We did enjoy up close and personal herds of huge water buffalo, zebra, wildebeest, antelope, Kenyan deer, gembook and a host of other game animals as well as a healthy young male lion not far from full adulthood who slowly ambled by not 2 feet past our van. Quite a sight to see. As thrilled as we were to lay eyes on him he was just as uninterested in return. He looked well-fed and I could only assume he was ready to find a quiet place to crash before the coming heat of the day.
Towards the end of our safari things got a bit more interesting. Slowly coming around a turn in the road in a very desolate area of the Park we came upon a group of baboons of all ages just sort of hanging out: mothers nursing their very young, older siblings grooming each other and a few immature adults curious as to what we were doing crashing their little party. We stopped for some photos and thought we would continue on, but for some reason Jackson thought it a good idea to ‘stir things up a bit’ and so he began to agitate the group. He would open and close his door all the while making a huffing sound which seemed to frighten some and inflame the curiosity of others. After about 5 minutes of Jackson aggravating this placid family of happy baboons, out from the bushes about 15 yards behind our van struts what we perceived to be the Alpha Male, considering he was a good bit larger than all the others. The way he carried himself spoke volumes to me. I’ve encountered that same attitude in many of the human species.
Without hesitation he walked right up to the front of the van, stopped momentarily and stared at us. A calm, quiet intimidating stare that indicated he wasn’t happy with what Jackson was doing and maybe it was time for us to just move on down the road. Unfortunately, Jackson didn’t get the message. Once again he opened his door and huffed. At this, silently and effortlessly, the Alpha Male jumped up 6 feet onto the front of our van, sat down on the edge and stared into our open space. I’m sure he was thinking it was time to teach us a baboon lesson on hospitality.
Brian was directly in the rear of the van and immediately fell back and down into his seat. Judy was next to me in the middle and she too went down. To Brian’s credit he continued to videotape this encounter. As a volunteer on this project, that was his job. I commend him for his commitment. I was standing in the center of the van and Judy was next to me. The roof was open and elevated, a typical safari van, and it allowed a great view of the surrounding area as long as you were standing up. It also affords an enticing opportunity for an angry baboon to create a little mayhem and have a little early morning baboon fun.
After a few seconds Mr. Alpha scrambled to the rear. Now he and I stood looking at each other, me full on frontal and him facing 90% to my left, just looking over his shoulder. Personally, I think he had the edge. We both gazed down at the same time and I believe calculated the distance and time it would take for us both to get to the rear edge of the opening of the roof. I moved before he did and ended up standing over Judy who was slumped down in the seat. We were now eyeball to eyeball, sizing each other and the situation up. He stared silently at me with his beady little red eyes. Motionless. Showing absolutely no emotion. I returned the stare with my large fully-dialated blue ones. I had only one thought. I’m sure it perfectly echoed his: “If that little sucker gets in this van it’ll be a bloodbath.”
And so, I did the only thing I could think of: I lunged forward with my hands in the air and as loud as I could yelled “BOO!” I figured that would get him to back off. Nope. Not hardly. He simply cocked his head and moved it back a bit and gave me “that look.” You know “that look.” The superior one you get when you lay down the law to your 9 year old and he looks back at you like “Really? Are you serious, Dad?” At that point I was trying to remember where my Snickers bar was. I figured I would proffer it as a peace offering if I sensed the situation was about to sour. Mr. Alpha then simply shrugged and hopped off the van and proceeded to walk down the lane in front of us, his big red butt a little more pronounced and held quite a bit higher in the air. I got the message.
Jackson had the biggest grin on his face I’ve ever seen, and that’s saying something. Judy and Brian looked a bit in shock. We all had a good laugh and then I sat down and said, “We can go now.”
As we go through life we learn many lessons, or hope to, anyway. The lesson I learned that morning was, “Never mess with a family of baboons. You never know who’s lurking about in the bushes.” I think that’s a lesson that could be applied in any number of ways in any number of situations. The next time I come across a baboon, of any species, I’ll be sure to think twice about how to approach the situation. And I’ll remember where my Snickers bar is.
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