The 2022 Africa Journals, Chapter 26: Sleepless on the Mara

 Chapter 26:

Sleepless on the Mara

(Note:   If you want to view the photos in a larger format, click on one.   A film strip will open at the bottom of the page and you can click through it.)

It’s funny, but you never really think much about breathing. Until it’s all you ever think about. – Tim Winton

I can't sleep.

I can't sleep because I can't breathe.

I can't breathe because when I lie down, I'm short of breath.

And thus it goes, awake and concentrating on breathing.   The longer I'm awake, the more anxious I become which serves only to exacerbate the problem.  I'm trying not to toss and turn so that I don't disturb Marg in the next bed, who may or may not be sleeping.

I notice, however, that my persistent cough has disappeared now that we are in the less dry area of Kenya.

I must have finally drifted off because I wake up and Marg has already gone to the dining tent for coffee.   (How does she unzip and zip the tent flap without waking me?)

My bed is left, Marg's is right.   At night, mosquito netting shrouds both beds.

I lie in bed for a while, thinking and worrying.  I finally decide what to do near wake-upon call time and it's a tough decision because this is our last full day at Enkewa camp.   Tomorrow we head for our fourth and final camp.

I get up, get dressed, and wave a flashlight out the tent flap to summon a security guard to escort me in the dark to the dining tent.   Marg is the only one there and I sit down beside her and tell her I am going to stay in camp this morning because I din't sleep much and am exhausted.

She wants to know why I didn't sleep well.    I hesitate because Marg is a veterinarian and reluctant to say too much, but she dismisses my initial middle-of-the-night delusional self-diagnosis.   

Virginia walks into the dining room.   Virginia is a surgeon (people, not animals) and can ethically advise medical info.  She immediately wants to know what's wrong.   She checks my (nice, steady, and not too rapid) pulse and pokes a finger at my shin.   A dimple remains:  I'm retaining water.

I look at my leg and think that it doesn't look like my legs usually look.   It's bigger.  And puffy.

This gives me another avenue to research for my self-diagnosis and I return to the tent. I dig into my tea and cookies, then take my morning prescription meds which includes a pill that lowers blood pressure and reduces the risk of strokes, and a diuretic.

Then I go back to bed.

Two hours later, I wake up and feel fine.   I'm no longer short of breath.   I turn on the computer and Google "elevation of the Maasai Mara National Reserve" and there's my answer--it's 4900 to 7000 feet above sea level.   I am having a bit of a high altitude problem.   After all, I've lived within 700 feet of sea level almost all my life.

I should have recognized the symptoms as they have plagued me in the past in high elevations--in Tibet and in Wyoming.    They are the reason I can't go to Machu Picchu

This is the first time I'm in camp during the morning, so I wander around to see what I can see, hoping for birds.   I strike out on that, but I finally get a decent photo of the dining room.

In the next couple hours, two different people (Solomon the dining room waiter and Jason our tour organizer) come to check on me.   They assure me they can get me to a hospital if I need.   I'm embarrassed for all the attention, but assure them I'm fine.

Later, Dominick, the head guide, also checks on me.  

I'm ready for the late afternoon game drive.   This time, I'm with Marg and Dominick is driving.   He has a spotter also.

First off, we find a black-backed jackal den in a huge termite mound.   A pup is curious about the vehicles with people pointing those huge black circles at him.

These charming little canids are among the bravest animals I've seen in Africa.   They think nothing of getting close to and barking at lions, trying to make the big cats move away from a carcass so they can eat their share.

This is from Go Africa, a tourist web site written as a blog:

"...(N)ow lack-backed jackals are one of the most ancient canids of all –the ancestors of modern wolves and dogs. They have not survived the past two million years by only getting in the ring at their own bantam-fighting weight. In fact, these little fellows – literally the smallest of all jackals - are considered the most aggressive. I’ve seen an individual jackal hunt and kill a young impala – an antelope larger than itself - with clinical efficiency."

Monogamous, cunning, and shy around humans, they are always a favorite sighting.

A Cape buffalo with a headdress of two yellow-billed oxpeckers.

A black-bellied bustard, displaying for a lady bustard.

Little bee-eater

Little bee-eater

On the way back to camp, I request a short stop to take a scenic photo.   It's raining slightly and it's slightly hazy, but I love this terrain.

Then, one last stop for an immature martial eagle.   This is Africa's largest eagle.   As you can see, it's crop is full and it causes a large lump on the breast.

Adult martial eagles are incredible strong, enough to carry off small antelope, baby warthogs, etc., but their favorite prey are poisonous snakes, chickens and the wild species of francolins, grouse, young bustards, and young goats and lambs, which makes them the enemy of pastoralists.

They are considered endangered.

Maybe.   Maybe it's something else.   With immature birds, it's often hard to tell.

I go to bed this night and sleep much better, even with the itching termite bites.