I remained alert, hoping to photograph some wildlife. We had no defenses against a lion or rhinoceros, but strangely the Masai didn’t seem concerned. They knew how to live safely among the animals on one of Kenya’s largest animal reserves.
With my trusty Canon EOS in my right hand, I could see Mt Meru in the distance. The aroma of the moist desert filled my senses. Damp soil, bare feet, beetles and cow dung mixed together, creating an earthy perfume. The mid-morning air was dry, near eighty degrees. We walked on a path with occasional muddy patches. The women traveled this route daily to gather water. The damp soil squished between the children’s toes and stuck to my wood sandals, making the walk a clumsy affair.
My new constant companion was Kurary’s younger brother Leboo. He walked directly in front of me, never straying. He was quieter than the other kids, and attached himself to me like a duck that had lost its mother. The companionship helped me not feel lonely in this strange land. I learned a few words from his language, but he remained quiet and often giggled at my attempt to speak his native tongue.
He loved to pose for my camera. He jumped in front of the lens with a full smile and silly pose as often as he could. At first he wanted to see his picture in the display window each time I snapped a shot. I happily obliged him, knowing that the more pictures I took, the better my chances of capturing something wonderful. Snapping his cheerful smile over and over made me fall in love with his vibrant personality. Little did he understand, at the tender age of seven, that my photos would appear in an exhibition in San Francisco next month. His happy, quiet eyes might be seen by thousands.
Leboo skipped along, enticing me to record his merriment. Through the lens I watched his dance, his funny faces and goofy poses. Peering through the glass window I saw the children in front of Leboo dragging sticks to make lines in the mud and brushing the desert plants with their fingertips. I snapped the shutter again and again, capturing the simplicity of their world. The shutter closed for brief micro seconds with new and magical moments before me. I snapped again, waiting for the blackness to blink in front of my eye and a different picture to emerge. When the shutter opened again, a surreal site appeared. Without stopping to enjoy the moment, I closed the shutter once, twice, maybe a third time before I peered from behind my lens and looked. We had rounded a corner which opened up to trees, a river bank and water with possibly one hundred zebras. My mouth hung open as I stared at the black and white striped beasts. Their heads reached down as they lapped up water. The group had no reaction to our presence, except to notice that we were there.
Leboo stopped his little dance and froze. He turned to grab my leg. I looked at him to understand his reaction. His face showed an expression of concern that didn’t make sense to me. We were looking at zebras; what did he fear? Then I noticed that the women were speaking to the children, directing them to hold still. The women all gathered close to the mule as if they were hiding him. I watched the women scan the river and plains in all directions. They spoke to each other softly, but seriously. I didn’t know what was going on.
Ahead of us the path continued along the river, with a steep, eroding sandy bank along both sides. It was obvious that at certain times of the year this river held more water. If we moved forward, there was no quick escape.
The women suddenly directed all of us to turn back in the direction that we’d come. They made the mule go at the very front and we all walked quickly behind. I looked at the leading woman, Tigisi, with a questioning expression. She looked back at me wide eyed and said a word I didn’t understand. One of the children looked at me, made claws with his hands and roared in a way that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I realized they were looking for a lion.
We left the zebras and river with empty buckets. I couldn’t leave without more photos. As the group quickly walked away, I let them pass me. I turned back to snap a few shots. Leboo noticed me, and pulled on my shirt, directing me away from the beautiful animals. I closed my shutter several times in a row before turning to follow.
I walked about two hundred yards before I heard it. I didn’t know what it was until I turned. Zebras, far behind us, leaped in every direction. All of the children began to run. The women dropped their buckets and ran in the direction from which we’d come. I followed them, running without looking back. About half the zebras were closing in on us, following the easiest escape route. I ran as fast as I could, but the women and children were much faster. Leboo looked back at me, his eyes wide with terror. He ran towards me and I felt a moment of comfort to see the compassion of this young boy. For an instant I felt safe, saved by a young hero. He reached me just in time to pull me out of the zebra’s path.
Hooves thundered on the hard earth. Leboo and I waited quietly together for the zebras to move past us. I protected my camera, wishing I could capture this stampede in still frame. We looked for a lion, but it never appeared. It probably had what it wanted back at the river. Within a minute all the zebras had scattered and it was safe for Leboo and me to head back.
When we reached camp, the women were telling the elders what had transpired. Then two men with spears and two women and the mule left camp again to retrieve water. The children and I stayed behind in the warm sun. Brian was sitting with the elders. He walked toward me and asked, “Are you all right? Did you have quite a scare?”
“I’m fine. Leboo protected me. It was very sweet to have a man looking out for me.”
“I see. It takes a jungle animal chasing you for you to need a man’s help?”
“Ha, ha, ha. You’re very funny. Maybe I just need the right man.”
“You wouldn’t know the right man if he flew you halfway around the world and proposed to you.”
I stopped in my tracks and froze. I thought I better leave that one alone and change the subject. I opened my mouth looking for anything to say to ease the conversation down a notch.
Before I could get a word out, Brian changed the tone. “Lighten up, Dee. I’m just teasing you. Are you okay?”
“Oh yeah…,” I sighed. “I’m fine; just a little excitement to keep things interesting.”
That night I dropped into bed exhausted. I felt grateful that Brian was coming with me to Kilimanjaro, the highest peak in Africa, at 19,341 feet, with three dormant volcanic cones, Kibo, Mawenzi and Shira. The mountain drew me toward her like a thirsty animal to water, just like when I was a child and would wander off into the vastness away from my parent’s campsite in the mountains of Washington and Oregon. Nature pulled at me and filled my soul with a liquid joy that I found irresistible. Decade after decade of my life I felt the pull of majestic places, like a mother’s call; I was drawn towards it. I began taking photos to remember the powerful experiences I had. Tomorrow I would photograph the largest mountain I had ever seen. Only I would know the feelings that stirred deep inside me as I looked upon the greatness. I could hardly fall sleep. Eventually, I drifted off into quiet slumber, restless and dreamless.
At sunrise I woke up with a jolt. I sat up quickly and scanned the tent. I heard nothing unusual as I became aware of my surroundings. A heavy air remained. My head turned to one side, then the other. My arms automatically lifted the sheets. Deep breaths didn’t comfort my tingling skin or relax the hair standing up on the back of my neck. I worried about the trip southward today and the potential threat of muggers.
I freshened up and dressed. Brian was already outside of camp with a van and two men from the tribe packing the vehicle with provisions to be prepared for any scenario we might encounter. The sky was bright on the east horizon and darker to the west.
Brian hired one of the best known guides from the region to take us to see Kilimanjaro and help us navigate traveling in Kenya’s wilderness. He also arranged for nice accommodations, since we would spend one night in an area he didn’t know well. Because we were staying in a hotel, Brian offered that we share a suite. I politely declined. He shrugged it off like he was expecting my answer.
Men from the t
ribe requested to come to assist and protect us. Then Leboo asked if he could come with us. He explained to me, through Brian’s translating, that I would need a subject to be in my photos. I also learned that Leboo had never ridden in a vehicle before. I was pleased to have my young hero and best model along for the long ride.
We set out in the white Nissan van right after we enjoyed some fresh milk for breakfast. There was a hole in the roof of the van with a raised lid for passengers to stand up and look out. The vehicle was typical of those used on African tours and safaris.
The roads were bumpy due to heavy rains. We had a long way to go. I settled into my seat and tried to fall in rhythm with the bouncing and jostling. The roads were also narrow. Only occasionally did the roads widen enough for our van to pass opposing traffic without slowing down or stopping.
Leboo and I sat in the back while he grinned from ear to ear without saying a word. He seemed content just to experience the ride. His smile reflected my excitement. Brian spoke often with the two men from the Masai tribe.
Brian explained to the driver that we were diverting our path towards a phone. I anticipated my calls, hoping for good news. We took the main road from the north into Nairobi. The driver took us straight to one of his relative’s hotels and negotiated for me to make two phone calls for a heavy fee. I was happy to pay. I dialed my daughter’s cell and let the phone ring.
Much to my relief, she answered. We had a nice conversation and she reassured me.
“Everything’s fine Mom. I spoke to Jennifer last night and Clair’s coming here for lunch today. Jennifer’s excited for you to get home. She just entered her third trimester, so she’s feeling pretty good.”
“So everyone’s doing great?”
“Yes, Mom. All is well. But I want to make sure that you will take pictures at my wedding. I know we hired a photographer, but you’re the best. Will you take some also?”
“Yes, honey. I promise I will.”
“Thanks Mom. I just want everything to be perfect. I also need your help with some final wedding items. I will pick you up at the airport.”
“I love you Jessica. Give my love to your sisters.” I hung up the phone feeling relieved.
Perhaps all of my worry was about my upcoming exhibit. Next I made a call to Paul Brown.
“Hi Paul, it’s Dee Coulter.”
“Hello Dee, great to hear your voice. You are well I hope?”
“Yes, I am. Thank you.”
“I received your sample photos of the people in Panama, Turkey and the District of Colombia. I want to use them, so please send them all. Will you ship the art soon?” Paul asked.
“Yes. In about ten days.” I replied.
“How long will your presence grace our fine city?” he asked.
“Oh,” I said, “I will be in San Francisco about a week.”
“You have a free tour guide at your disposal. Please allow me the pleasure.”
“I might take you up on that, Paul.”
“I hope you do.” He paused briefly before clearing his throat and continuing. “In addition to the art, I would like a larger photo of you and a bio you want for the show that is more detailed than the one I used in the ads. You are a remarkable woman, from what I know so far.”
“Thank you. I will send you the photo and bio in about a week.”
“I look forward to it.”
“Paul, I have some new material. Could you squeeze a few more shots into the show?”
“That’s perfect really. I was going to invite another artist because I still have room, but if you have more material, I will make the show exclusively yours. Where did you photograph the new material?”
“The pictures are from Kenya, but the details I would like to keep a secret until they are in print.”
“Okay, I like surprises! I love how you capture people in their element and show their emotion. Incredible talent you have. I look forward to seeing your smiling face in person. Could we have dinner while you’re in town? I would love to treat you to a meal, San Francisco style.” His tone was flirtatious.
“It’s a date. I’ll even dress-up,” I replied playfully .
“I’ll sneak you off to one of my favorite less-known hot spots. No cameras allowed.”
I laughed and heard Paul release a small chuckle. Then I noticed a tap on my right shoulder. I looked to my right and Brian mouthed something. I pulled the phone away from my ear and said, “What?”
Brian replied, “Let’s go!”
“Just a second,” I replied.
“Let’s go,” Brian said. “We are burning daylight.”
“Paul, I have to run. I will see you in San Francisco in a few weeks,” I replied.
“I can’t wait,” he replied.
As I said good-bye to Paul, Brian piped up.
“Your personal taxi is leaving.”
“That was an important business call. Why is it so important to save a few minutes?” I asked flustered.
“Well, let me explain it to you, Dee. You are here on this assignment because of me. You could offer a little respect. It’s difficult for me to watch you blushing and flirting with other man while I am standing right here leading you on a far off dangerous journey at your request, putting my own time and resources aside. Your business is my business when we are traveling across the desert together and need to be somewhere before dark.”
I gathered my composure as I realized my mistake. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Brian. I wasn’t thinking. This exhibit it a big deal for me. I want this show so badly. I just…got caught up.”
“Alright, thanks for understanding. If I wasn’t in love with you, it wouldn’t matter.”
Oh my. What am I supposed to say to that? I froze in place.
“That’s fine, don’t say anything. I know you’re not in love with me, yet. Your problem, Dee, is that you won’t let a man get close to you or protect you. If you don’t trust a man, and let one love you, you will always be alone.”
He looked at my face, waiting for a response. I felt flippant but I toned down my response to sound light and joking, “When I meet one worth trusting, I’ll let you know. Until then, I am doing just fine.” I shot him a teasing smile.
Brian looked disappointed, so I added softly, “It’s obvious that you look out for my best interest and I appreciate that you care. You are a good guy and I’m glad that you are in my life.” He shot me a half smile and small lift of his chin.
We climbed back in the van with the rest of our party. I sat quietly noticing the happy feeling in my body that Paul voice stirred inside of me. I wanted to explore that feeling further. Somehow I needed to keep Brian away from my exhibit in San Francisco next month. It was obvious that Paul and Brian should never meet.
We drove out of Nairobi and began the southeast leg of our journey toward Tsavo National Park in Kenya where we could look across the border into Tanzania at Kilimanjaro. Brain pouted and made his jealousy obvious as we drove south. The road was well traveled with many people accessing the volcano from Nairobi via this thoroughfare. I watched patiently for the mountain to come closer and to see any wildlife along the way. About ten miles south of Nairobi, I spotted something more captivating than the mountain. Five adult elephants and two of their young were walking together. They didn’t seem to mind the sporadic parade of vans maneuvering through the mud, revving their engines in the process.
“Stop!” I cried far too loudly.
Brian directed the driver to stop the van. The driver pulled the thin framed vehicle onto the bank of rocks at the edge of the road. I jumped out and began shooting as soon as my feet hit the soil. I zoomed, clicked, refocused, zoomed, changed angles and shutter speed. Mount Kilimanjaro peeked out in the background, making a perfect backdrop for capturing the giants. I quickly changed the filter to one that sharpens the images for bright light. The elephants cooperated, walking towards me.
I knew that elephants were dangerous beasts, causing many human deaths in Africa, but these giants
looked happy, playful and non-threatening. Remembering my feeling of dread this morning, I took my steps towards them cautiously, feeling vulnerable in size and speed. I felt very pleased for the photos taken. As I turned towards the van, Leboo pointed behind me, urging me to turn around. I spun my head to see if my life was in peril only to witness an adult elephant brushing a younger one with its trunk. I lifted my camera, but I missed the shot. Disappointed, I reminded myself that many of the best moments in life have to be recorded on the film in our minds, because we won’t always be pointing a camera.
Brian switched places with the driver and pulled the van back onto the road. He steadied our speed on the highway as a large jeep approached from behind. The driver wanted to pass us, but a truck drove towards us from the other direction. The jeep driver appeared to be impatient. I stood up to see if I could get a shot of the elephants in the distance, testing my trusty camera with the movement. I clicked the shutter and looked in the display window. Not too bad, but definitely a little blurry. I adjusted the shutter speed and pointed my instrument again. I obtained a decent shot.
Brian spoke in a concerned tone, “Sit down Dee. It’s not safe to stand while we’re on the road.”
With the driver of the jeep still impatient on our tail, I decided that before I sat down, I would take a picture of the annoyed driver behind us. I looked through my lens and closed the shutter. The driver gave me a grumpy scowl and stomped his foot onto the gas pedal.
Brain turned around and reached for my leg. He grabbed my shorts. “Dee!” he said pleading. Just then the jeep bumped into the back of our van. I tried to catch my balance so I could sit down, when I heard Brian shout, “Look out!” I turned to the front and realized that the bump from the jeep sent us into the oncoming truck. I thought, “We are going to be hit,” before I’d enough time to move a muscle. The delivery truck hit our van head-on. My body flew forward, then back. I felt Leboo hold my legs. It seemed that the van fell onto its side, but I wasn’t sure what was happening. My final thought was, I have to make it home. And then it was dark.
Painted with Love: Romance Eludes Time and Death Page 2
