Atasha enkai te Amboseli pi

We had our last game drive today. We went to Amboseli one last time, and sadly, it was not much greener than when we had left it at the height of the dry season. There really has not been that much rain yet, and at this point, probably won't be enough to end the drought before the end of the long rains season in mid-May. Dead, rotting carcasses lay everywhere within the park, pelts resting on bones with decomposing guts to the side, the occasional dismembered leg lying asunder.

But to be out in the open, among the life, and death, of the savanna, was a welcome change to the past couple days of data analysis and paper writing for DR. We saw elephants and Grants gazelle and Tommies and black-backed jackals and hipppos and buffalos and reedbuck and impala, and it felt like I was seeing it all again for the first time.

As we drove around for the hours before lunch, we could see ominous sky surrounding us, and it was weird to know that the dark, almost black clouds were pouring out rain all around, and yet within our wide circle it was dry. In New York, the rain is either on you or it's not, but you certainly can't see it from afar, you certainly can't see it coming. And come it did.

I could see it approach from my spot on Observation Hill, where we had lunch. I did not get back to the cars in time to avoid getting wet, but I was enjoying to much watching the approach to care too much. And it just fascinates me how the water pools on the surface of the ground, yet still a few inches below the dirt is still just dust, so that if the rain is really hard and really good, it kicks up an organ-red cloud of dust as it falls. And with the windows to the cars closed to avoid the water, the smell of the dust within is strong, and I realized today that I will miss it.

Atasha engai te Amboseli pi: roughly translated from the kimaasai, it means, "Much rain has come from God to Amboseli."