Malachite Lion

But wait! I have the proverbial horse before the cart! First let me tell you how I came to be in Africa.

"We're now passing out over the Adriatic Sea," the pilot announced. “Our route over Africa will take us east of Cairo, over Khartoum and Addis Ababa, then we'll turn due south and head into Nairobi. Welcome aboard. Sit back. Relax and enjoy the flight."

After breakfast I stood outside the Ambassador Hotel to absorb the activity and energy, the hustle and bustle, emanating from the crowds that moved along Moi Avenue. People in large cities seem always to be in a hurry to get off the street and find safety and solace behind concrete walls. Not all though, because some individuals hang out near sides of buildings, in doorways, alleyways, watching the street migrants like predators scrutinizing their prey. Travel books mention that the streets of Nairobi are infested with pickpockets and con men. There's a certain sense of exhilaration and attentiveness stimulated by the knowledge that "Faginism" did not die with the rescue of Oliver Twist.

There are as many safari agencies in Nairobi as there are saloons in Milwaukee and churches in Birmingham. Although they come with many facades and prices, many are less then bona fide. Since a safari adventure topped my agenda, I had to do some research so as not to be taken for just a ride.

Small herds of gazelles, wildebeests, and zebras, and occasional giraffes fed near the tracks. When they heard the rattling railroad cars and screeching wheels as the train neared, they would lift their heads and stare in unison at the approaching train. Almost on cue, the antelopes bounded away. The giraffes momentarily looked up and then returned to their meal.

To my surprise, ...I saw several small beige-brown, mottled fishes emerge from the wavelets and slither toward a boulder about two meters away. I watched them make their way across the hot, dry, open sand to an algal mat that grew at the base of this rock. When I realized that I wasn’t being overcome by sunstroke or thoughts of seminude women, and knowing that I was not underwater, the images finally registered as real fish. These were mudskippers.

The Africans say, “...that if you leave a footprint in the sand, you will return to Africa.” I put my foot down firmly beneath a frangapani tree, just off the Britannia Hotel’s parking lot, and left a solid imprint.