Christmas

Jophie had arranged for a taxi to collect us on the morning of the 23rd December, and to take us up past Nanyuki to the home of Alastairs' sister and brother-in-law. The driver arrived in large Land Cruiser which the children were delighted about, especially as there were no children's car seats to sit in.

They spent most of the three-hour journey climbing in and out of the front seat, using their binoculars to examine the bicycles and donkeys we passed on the road, and waving madly at the overcrowded matatus (minibuses) that heaved their way over the pot holes and debris on the road. The last half an hour of the journey was on a dirt track so eroded by the rains that large sections of it had fallen away, leaving small craters and ravines. Without a 4-wheel-drive the house is inaccessible.

We spent Christmas with 20 of us in all, with many others coming and going over the the days we were there, and a small village of staff working to accommodate us all. The house had been built by Alastair with a large open veranda and a hammock overlooking two watering holes. The sitting room was cleared of furniture to make room for Scottish reels on the first night, Lila joining in right till the end.

We woke on Christmas morning to the sound of Masai children singing outside the house, quickly silenced by the gift of sweets. They divided their spoils between them and ran off down the dusty track. After breakfast we drove out into the bush, stopping to walk up to Pride Rock, where we sat with some other families to sing Christmas carols, the words getting lost in the vastness of the bush that lay beneath us. We feasted at every meal, all prepared, served and cleared away by the staff. This luxurious existence left me feeling slightly uncomfortable, like having hotel service in your own home.