There is a memorable scene in Out of Africa, Karen Blixen’s account of life in early 20th century Kenya. Having just shot a charging lion, Blixen and her lover Denys Finch Hatton go back to camp to drink wine. We are no less dramatic but a lot less lethal. Having just watched a pride of seven lions and five cubs gnaw away at a young giraffe that they had killed, we lean back and sip red wine, feast on roasted cashews and hot crisp bhajiyas fried over a roaring fire, even as the evening sky flames orange and pink around us. We had been close to the lions; close enough to see the flies buzzing around their heads as they muscled each other aside to get at the kill. Four other young lions sat in the grass to one side, looking well fed and content. It was an unforgettable sight. And, within minutes of experiencing nature red in tooth and claw, we are sitting at a crystal-laden table spread out on the vast plain, being offered refreshments under a sausage tree, as the wind whistles and stars wheel about in the African sky.
Welcome to the world of safari. A world where Africa is always romantic, wild and thrilling. No whiff of civil wars and starvation deaths here, only the grandeur of the great savannah and its incomparable wildlife, to be enjoyed with all attendant creature comforts. We are on the edge of the Masai Mara National Reserve in Kenya, which adjoins Tanzania’s Serengeti National Park to create a vast unbroken landscape that abounds in lions, cheetahs, elephants, rhinos, giraffes, zebras, Cape buffalo and innumerable antelopes, and many more species of animals and birds. This is classic safari country. It has attracted sportsmen and adventurers from outside since the 1800s. The Masai who have lived here far longer, herding livestock and waging war against each other, witnessed the arrival of the Great White Hunters, men like Finch Hatton and Bror Blixen, who would lead shooting expeditions of the rich and famous across the savannah, bringing back trophies to display in the castles and mansions back home in Europe and America.
‘Safari’ means ‘journey’ in Swahili and, in the days before cars, the journey into the bush was an arduous affair. Maintaining standards meant elaborate preparations that were a logistical nightmare. Lord Randolph Churchill, Winston’s dad, went on horseback safari across Zimbabwe with an entourage of four cooks, a surgeon and a train of wagons loaded with ‘essentials’ such as cases of gin, crates of vintage champagne and a baby piano. The American president, Teddy Roosevelt, came on safari too and his account of his experiences inspired another American, Charles Cottar, to come to Africa to seek his fortune amidst natives and nature. Since 1919, Cottar’s company has been arranging safari trips for the privileged: the Duchess of York (later famous as Queen Mother) and George Eastman (of Eastman Kodak) were among their early clients. Today, Cottar’s Camp is situated on more than 20,000 acres of land leased from the Masai, on the south-east edge of the Mara, overlooking Serengeti.
What makes Cottar’s stand apart from the other camps and lodges that dot the grasslands is its privacy. There are no tourist hordes, no honking vans. Only twelve guests in six tents who have thousands of acres all to themselves. The camp is now expanding to ten tents to accommodate more family groups, but the layout ensures that there is plenty of peace and quiet for everybody. The low density of visitors means that wildlife is less disturbed. Being outside the Reserve, visitors can go off the road, in jeeps or on foot, and on night drives — activities prohibited inside Masai Mara. While the bush walks and game drives yield extraordinarily rich wildlife sightings, one doesn’t even have to leave the Camp to experience the Mara.
As I lie in bed and sip tea at dawn, my open tent-flaps reveal the panorama of the plains stretched out to the Kuka hills in the distance. This grassland, dotted with the acacia trees that give the Mara its name, is the biggest wildlife highway on earth. In July and August, millions of wildebeests and other animals move north across this land in search of grass. In October, they make the return trip. Imagine the sight: wildebeest, zebra, and other antelope as far as the eye can see. Though from the camp they might look like ants, the sounds of their snuffling and grunting is carried up by the wind. Among them are lions so sated with meat that the wildebeest can simply walk around them. Tamsin Corcoran, manager at Cottar’s and a safari veteran, describes setting up a dinner table in the middle of the migration path, and having the great herds file past as people wined and dined.
That surreal experience was not to be ours, since we were there in the month of May. But there were plenty of other wonders to be discovered with the help of our guide Dougie Mugambi and tracker Sombé. We went on a bush walk with an armed ranger, Dougie and Sombé. Just as Dougie described cheetah tracks to me, I glanced down and saw the distinctive pug marks on the ground! Sombé came up and confirmed that they were fresh; a cheetah had just passed this way. But just as we set off in search of cheetah, we saw even fresher lion pug marks. That’s how we came across the giraffe kill, and the pride of lions feasting on it, with silver-backed jackals and white-backed and hooded vultures waiting in the wings.
I’ve seen my share of wildlife documentaries on the National Geographic channel and elsewhere. But nothing prepares you for actually being there in the savannah, within touching distance of a lion, with surround sound and smells. Nothing compares to the beauty of this landscape, its changing light and colours, its sheer magnificence. I am not given to hyperbole, but words like ‘amazing’ and ‘extraordinary’ seem absolutely right here. And mine isn’t just the enthusiasm of the first-time visitor. Even Dougie, our guide, says with a sweep of his arm, “This is my office. Now you know why I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
With Dougie and Sombé to guide us, we explore the Cottar’s concession as well as the Masai Mara Reserve. On our first day, we set off in a Land Rover and quickly run into King Henry, the head of their resident pride of lions. King Hal is ensconced in the grass with one of his consorts and they are mating, every seven minutes for the last two weeks. No wonder the lioness growls with irritation as Hal mounts her. And no wonder he looks exhausted. It’s hard work being head lion.
Then we come across a herd of elephants, ears flapping, tusks gleaming, with several babies in tow. Coming from India, I am a bit blasé about ellies, as they are called here, but I get really excited by the birdlife. I’m in love with the dashing bateleur eagle that swoops in and out of sight. I exclaim over the ground hornbills and the secretary birds that pace through the grass. I drink in the sight of the crowned cranes and the marabou storks on the little water bodies left behind by the rains. My guidebook to East African birds is getting well-thumbed.
The photographer is impatient because, for him, there are no photo-ops here. But the Mara is much more than its pictures. It is a world to be lived.
We stop for lunch on the bank of the Mara river, as the breeze whispers in the leleshwa bushes around us. A few feet below, crocodiles and hippos lower themselves into the water. I didn’t expect hippos to be like this, they have a deep bass bellow and they look mean. They are also reputed to be the most dangerous animals in Africa, biting off chunks of people who get in their way. We keep a respectful distance, content to hear them snorting and snuffling, as we sip crisp white wine and tuck into the salads and cold cuts that Tamsin’s staff packed for us.
On the way back, we meet herds of zebras, affectionately nuzzling each other. As they move together, I’m mesmerised by their stripes that merge and separate, creating a strange optical illusion. Is it the wine or am I drunk on the air and the light and the nearness of so many wild and wonderful beasts?
Back at the Camp, I indulge myself with a massage on the verandah of my tent, with the view of the plains below. Now I am truly intoxicated, and filled with a lavish sense of well-being. Ex-pilot Iris McCallum, who takes over from Tamsin as manager of Cottar’s, tells me over dinner that Cottar’s has twice been voted ‘Best Tented Camp in the World’ by travel magazines. I’m no expert, but I completely understand why.
The information
Getting there
Nairobi Kenya Airways and Air India fly from Mumbai to Nairobi for approx. Rs 21,000 (return).
Cottar’s Camp
Cottar’s Camp is on Kenya’s southern border with Tanzania, on the south-eastern edge of Masai Mara National Reserve. It’s a 6-8 hour drive from Nairobi, depending on the roads. Most visitors fly in on local airlines like Safarilink . It’s a good idea to spend a night in Nairobi on arrival from India to recover from your night-long flight before carrying on.
The Safari
Uncharted Outposts (00-1-505-7957710; , a US-based tour operator, specialises in arranging luxury safaris, and can arrange a trip to Cottar’s Camp for you. They can also organise safaris in other parts of Africa.
If you’re going only to Cottar’s you can also book directly. Cottar’s 1920s Camp (00-1-505-7957715; rates range from US $415 to $595 per person per night twin-sharing. This includes local airstrip transfers, two extended game drives per day, full board accommodation, guided walks, food and drink, massage, and fishing. Cottar’s tailors its services to suit what you want and need. Let them know in advance if you have any special requests.
Tips
Take comfotable clothes and shoes with you for the safari and a dressy outfit for the evening. The sun can be really hot during the day so carry a hat and sunscreen.
Yellow fever shots are a requirement for people travelling to Kenya. See for details on where you can get the shot.