With a few tips from our seasoned friends, we decided a Saturday adventure through the Kenyan wilderness was exactly what we needed to calm our congested minds and cleanse our 'fume infested lungs.' After paying our parking fee, we grabbed our small sack lunches and set off with a skip in our step -completely unaware of where we were going or what we would see.
Five girls walking through a forest. At first it started as a dirt road, winding and twisting around magnificent trees, but then the road faded into a faint trail, outlined by the simple curvature of the land. Soon we were almost swallowed in the enormity of the tress. It was a bright day, but beneath the dense canopy we were thankful for the few rays of sunlight that lit our narrow way. Enormous ferns littered the valley floor and gave definition to a small creek below. Birds fluttered through the air casting eerie shadows on our patch and the constant hum of mosquitoes reminded us that this place was still a land of mystery.
There was an unspoken fear that was growing with each step. AS we made our way deeper and deeper into the woods we were forced to make more turns, creating a zig-zag path that we hope to be able to back-track. The woods were darker, and the path was fainter. However, the fear that had been mounting with the darkening of the trees was quenched with the sight of adorable little boys running from the bush. Normally you would think small children appearing from no-where would be cause for alarm, but their precious curious faces were excited and timid at the same time.
By this time we were hungry, so we walked a few more meters down the path and set-up camp (ok, so we just found a downed tree to sit on, but it was nice enough). We just started chomping down on our sandwiches when I looked up into a pair of inquisitive little brown eyes. They were peeping out from a safe distance behind a tree. Then, two more pairs appeared, each set steadily focused on the veggie sandwich gripped firmly between my hands. As I continued to munch my interest grew, and I wondered what they would do if I walked towards them -would they run back to their "bush," or eagerly snatch the sandwich from my hand? Well, my thinking didn't last long, as I was eager to share the picnic with our new-found "lost boys" (because they reminded my of the boys from Peter Pan). I dropped to my knees, dug through our picnic bag, pulled out some PB&Js and made my way towards the patient children. They didn't move. I approached the oldest boy first, handed him the sandwich wrapped in foil and then called for the others. They didn't move, not until the eldest unwrapped the goods and took a big bite. Then their confidence grew, and they came to me with hands open, waiting for their share.
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