tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-69547274570429567602024-03-05T05:56:52.201-08:00KenyaBenjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.comBlogger45125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6954727457042956760.post-14093425498320145732015-10-22T10:24:00.000-07:002015-10-22T10:24:17.657-07:00Benjo in Kenya at last!<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Watamu is a pretty insignificant place in the grand scheme
of things. I mean anywhere is if you think about it. Why should one particular
place mean anything in the grand scheme of the planet and all its people and
places? However, because of whatever forces of fate I ended up here for 3 years
of my early 20s. It was where I learnt many of the secrets of coral reefs, its
where my perspective of the world and my place in it was drastically altered,
and it’s a place full of friends and memories. After 18 months of being back in
the UK, I’ve come back to Watamu for a brief few weeks to finish up some
aspects of my research and PhD work. While here the past, present and future
have all sort of blended together and given me a birds eye view of my life at
the moment, which I needed to get down on paper.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Arriving in Watamu initially was a
little underwhelming, because obviously I recognised everything and I guess I
just slipped back into looking around like I had never left. It was absolutely
great getting to Mwamba and receiving this joyous reception of familiar faces
of my old work colleagues and friends, but again this funny feeling of never
having really left. After my first swim at the beach I stopped by the little
fire shelter in the dunes and then it sort of hit me; all of the past
experiences, memories and significant life steps I had taken within this area.
It was like reconnecting with a side of myself I had almost forgotten in the
UK. Over the coming days I met so many people, on the road, on the beach, that
took me back to those times and that feeling of never really having left
allowed me to almost touch my younger self and remember vividly where I have
come from.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My PhD supervisor David on the left, colleague and fellow fish nerd Melita, and fellow PhD student Juliet on the right, out on fieldwork with me.</td></tr>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>A couple of days later I did my
first workshop with local Kenya Wildlife Services personnel and other people in
Watamu doing marine conservation work. In the build up to it I was really
struggling to force myself to prepare the presentation and remember why I was
out here in Kenya, when I should definitely be at home working on my PhD.
However, during the presentation and the response I got from people afterwards
it hit me that things had come full circle. All those plans and all the legwork
we had put in from 2011 and onwards were now bearing fruit. People at the
presentation congratulated Peter and I on the ‘amazing findings’ we had made
through our research, which I guess in the long labourious process of finding,
had escaped me a bit. Presenting the work back to people reminded me why I had
started this whole crazy process in the first place and I think has probably
given me a great little burst of enthusiasm to get through the final stages. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Presenting in Watamu</td></tr>
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<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>So being back has crystallised a bit
of my recent past, and through that has also helped me see where I am now. For
one, I realise how completely burnt out I am with the PhD now. I am so so so so
so ready to finish! But no major news there; I think this feeling is pretty
standard at this stage in the process. I also realise actually how happy I am
in Oxford. Quite a lot of people I’ve bumped into have asked me would I be
coming back. On the one hand I am reminded by some of things I do not miss since leaving Kenya. Since being back getting a tummy bug, struggling to arrange meetings,
organising transport etc. reminded me how tired I was with Watamu by the time I
left and no amount of tropical sunshine and crystal clear water could cure. However being able to pop out for a quick lunchtime snorkel, while you are at work is not to be snubbed at! </div>
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<span style="text-align: justify;">But where does that lead me now? On my last day in Kenya, Peter and I were presenting to the heads of departments at Kenya Wildlife Service headquarters in Nairobi. A row of very important men in sharp suits surveyed us as we began our presentation, and I was struck by the fact that somehow I had ended up presenting my work to the highest level of governmental wildlife conservation in the country and also how young and under-dressed I felt! The presentations went down well, and these top guys congratulated us on our good work. </span><span style="text-align: justify;"> </span><span style="text-align: justify;">When I hand in my thesis in a couple of month’s time, I will be a qualified marine scientist, ready to start my career. This trip has helped me see that I can actually do this thing and that all the leg-work has been worth it. Exactly what that means for the future though I have no idea yet! For now I am just looking forward to seeing people back home and getting my teeth stuck into my last chapter.</span></div>
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Benjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6954727457042956760.post-89543498465175077342015-04-05T12:47:00.003-07:002015-04-05T13:02:18.382-07:00Benjo not in Kenya<div style="text-align: justify;">
Mysteriously last weekend the UK government's foreign and commonwealth office (FCO) included most of the Kenyan coast as an area to be avoided by British citizens. The strip included Watamu, my previous home and where I was planning to travel just after Easter. Initially I, and friends in Watamu, were confused. Surely this was something political, nothing ever happens in Watamu, right? Indeed since 2012, when the Somali terrorist group Al-Shabaab began operating in Kenya, we never saw a single attack or even threat any closer than Mombasa, 100km to the south. Feeling frustrated at the sloppy nature of international relations and the extra admin this change had created, I nevertheless continued planning my trip.</div>
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In the early hours of Thursday morning as students were waking up for the new day, Al-Shabaab gun-men attacked their university in Garissa, killing 148 people and marking that day as the worst terrorist attack Kenya has seen since the Al-Qaeda attack on the US embassy in 1998. Turns out Al-Shabaab had leaked a fairly horrifying letter to the Kenyan public some days before and the FCO had responded accordingly. I am angry. I am so angry I could barely sit through Easter service this morning, where we are supposed to sing joyfully and celebrate the resurrected Christ. Like me you may be infuriated by the loss of life and the barbaric attitude of the organisation that caused it. However, in this blog I want to focus on what this might mean for Watamu, and think about what instability really is. </div>
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In news coverage of such events, the focus is on the immediate victims, the perpetrators, and the wider context for the world and the west. Then it is forgotten. Our lives are unaffected, and why should they be? The only reason I see beyond the headlines in this case is because I lived there and the lives of my friends will be affected. Living in the UK it can be difficult to understand the true consequences of instability or uncertainty because so much of our lives is controlled and sheltered.</div>
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The first victim of instability is always business. Economies are fundamentally fragile and can have the rug pulled from under them even in highly regulated countries. Watamu, like much of the coast, relies heavily on tourism. With hotels empty, bars and restaurants will close, souvenir shops will cease to exist and the entire local cash flow will dry up. Some people will move on and find new work, others will have lost a life-time's achievement in an uncontrollable act of fate. </div>
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Next will come the frustration. Lack of money, lack of alternative opportunities and everyone fighting over an ever dwindling pie. In such situations of acute stress and misery, people don't necessarily club together as we would like to believe, but rather become bitter. In Kenya, like most places, this is often expressed through racism; think of post-depression Germany, or even post-recession UK (i.e. right now!). 'That person is stealing my meagre ration in this world and I will not stand for it!' And we have gone full circle. Al-Shabaab and other militant groups around the world prey on disaffected, frustrated young men who have all the energy and potential in the world, but no way to express it. </div>
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Instability is relative. Kenya is doing better than many countries in Africa, but the corruption, food insecurity and crime certainly makes most Brits reflect differently on our own experience back home. I am feeling particularly worried for the marine park in Watamu and for my old charity A Rocha. A Rocha relied heavily on eco-tourism, both for its own income and in its practical conservation programmes. We worked with communities to protect their forests and reefs and help them to recognise the alternative livelihood tourism provides. With no tourism to the area, I fear for our projects and even for the continued existence of the beautiful habitats I was lucky enough to work in for all those years. </div>
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Somalia is the most extreme example of instability and anarchy on the planet, without a functional government or national unity in over 2 decades. What little I understand about the situation, perhaps it is no surprise a group such as Al-Shabaab should form. Nevertheless I cannot help feeling each of us has a choice of how to act when we are hurt. In Jesus' first address, his famous sermon on the mount, he said</div>
<i><br /><br />“You have heard that it was said, ‘Eye for eye, and tooth for tooth.’ But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also. And if anyone wants to sue you and take your shirt, hand over your coat as well. If anyone forces you to go one mile, go with them two miles. Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you. You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you"</i><br />
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I recognise that religion is one of the easiest battle lines to draw and don't put this up as a religious stand point. Personally I read this and feel it may be the only genuine solution to violence, anger and instability in our world. Choosing day by day to live for peace.</div>
Benjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6954727457042956760.post-33457220330996827722014-04-27T01:37:00.001-07:002014-04-27T01:37:58.508-07:00Getting back from Mozambique<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36pt;">
I’ve been back in Nairobi for a few days now, staying in the very nice neighbourhood of Lavington, and catching up on emails with coffee in Java House. It feels worlds apart from what I saw in Mozambique and its hard to remember you’re in Africa when you see people buying hand exfoliating crème in the mall or driving flash cars into multi-storey car parks. Mozambique on the other hand was “Africa” in the extreme.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Its funny to say this considering I spent most of the time on an ultra-exclusive private island where guests pay $1000 a night for the ultimate beach and tropical paradise experience. Vamizi was just that. An unbelievably beautiful white beach sloped into perfect turquoise waters, at all states of tides and time of day. The island is mostly uninhabited and covered in jungle and surrounded by some of the best coral reefs I have ever seen. However, this is not the true Mozambique, which is much uglier and more worrying, but rarely encountered on the island.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The poverty in the areas on the mainland I saw was more extreme than most parts of Kenya. When our bus pulled into towns en route (oh yes I took the bus again), people would run and jostle to get there first. Small children would fight to hold up a handful of mangy green tomatoes or plastic bags at the window, while the women would argue as they tried to make sales. I saw more than one person slump in complete despair when the bus revved to move off and they hadn’t made a sale.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In Pemba, the town where I stayed for 2 days to get a flight back to Nairobi, women scrapped mosquito nets in the shallow water to catch unappetising little shrimps and sprat, while children hacked at rocky outcrops with spoons and butter knives to get any crabs, snails or small bivalves they could. The town centre there hung a lull of inertia that poverty creates, when one has nothing to do, nothing to buy and no money to buy it with.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Now consider that this is in a country, which has recently been discovered to be sitting on potentially one of the largest untapped oil reserves in the world. Exploration is happening in a massive way, and tons of investment, construction and foreigners are flooding into this area, where only 5 years ago there was no electricity or mobile phone signal.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Official propaganda, if of course, that this is a great thing, and Anadarko is making a good show of how good this all is for Mozambique. Before I lambast the oil company too much, I would like to add that they are doing some good projects and I even met a couple of people working for them involved in trying to make their operations more locally appropriate and inclusive. However, I simply fail to see how a population with the level of poverty that I saw and all the ills that go with it, poor health, nutrition and education, can possibly ride this tidal wave of change and come out better in the end.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In Kenya the poorest, remain poor and the all benefits and wealth are snapped up by the few and the foreign. Incomers from other areas and other countries create tensions as precious jobs, land and resources are ‘stolen’, wealth disparity leads to crime and a deep crippling sense of despair; all of which I could see among some of the people in this area already. I am very doubtful that the government is any more responsible or less greedy than other countries and the higher levels of poverty and lack of education probably makes it easier for them to be unjust.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Maybe I’m too cynical by what I have seen in other places, but everywhere I looked I was struck by the extremes and worried for the future of the place. Even being on the island I didn’t feel particularly at ease, knowing that the place is the creation of vanishingly few rich and powerful, that can absolve themselves from the reality on the mainland.<o:p></o:p></div>
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What little I saw of the country was stunningly beautiful. Untouched coastline, forested mountains, picturesque thatched villages with lush vegetable gardens, all poised on the edge of the worst ravages 21<sup>st</sup> century capitalism has to offer. I would really love to go back and take more time to drive around this area, take in the sights, and understand more about places such as this and what their ultimate fate will be. For the moment, there are some rocky years ahead.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I am poignantly aware this might actually be now the last post on this blog. In many ways Mozambique was an extreme microcosm of my whole experience in Kenya. Amazed by the beauty, shocked by the extremes, and more than once frustrated and insanity of it all. I think the main thing I have learnt over the past few years is that it is a big bad world out there, where you really can’t take anything for granted. Enjoy where you are in the moment, value the things that matter to you, and try not to give up hope of a better tomorrow. Africans do this better than any other people. Despite the frustration I saw in the people of Mozambique, I also saw the unchanging African optimism and warmth. As I drove to the airport in Pemba someone had written on a shop, “Onde ha vida, ha esperanca”- ‘Where there is life, there is hope’. Nothing could better encapsulate the African outlook. Let’s hope its true.</div>
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p.s. here's a few photos from Vamizi and also check out the reef on youtube with the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J4gYsALbu8Q&feature=youtu.be" target="_blank">video</a> I made. </div>
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<!--EndFragment--><br />Benjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6954727457042956760.post-60470491188400984592014-04-14T12:39:00.000-07:002014-04-14T12:39:38.117-07:00Getting to Mozambique<div style="text-align: justify;">
Ok this East African adventure is not over yet folks. I have more stories.</div>
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Getting to Vamizi Island, Northern Mozmabique was the most topsy turvy journey ever. There is no photo evidence (bloody GoPro ran out of battery), so you must believe my words, although myself I'm not sure I believe it.</div>
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Getting to Nairobi everything was fine, finally escaped the unrelenting heat of March on the coast. Get to the airport on Sunday after staying one night with friends, get a the usual funny look at my passport with back to back tourist visas for the past 3 years (still no research visa from immigration), and go through to the departure lounge. The screen is still predicting our 3:45 departure to Pemba and Nampula, everything looks great. At around 3:15 all of us in the waiting lounge are told to go back out and wait for further instructions. The plane never left Maputo. No explanation why, just no plane. No plane until Tuesday in fact. Ok so a hotel, and planning what on earth I'm going to do in the mean time and also because of careful timing with a boat from the mainland to Vamizi Island, how am I going to make the onward journey. Luckily I meet another guy called Herb, also trying to get to Vamizi because he works at the dive centre there (what are the chances), who is actually from Watamu (no way!). Great, I can figure this one out and I don't need to do it alone.</div>
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The hotel we are taken to is the Nairobi Safari Club, in the centre of Nairobi. 5* luxury for two nights at the expense of the airline. I crashed onto my super-king sized bed and thought about how jammy life is sometimes, and decided to call Isobel, the partner in Mozambique to explain I would be a couple of days late. News from Mozambique was that a cyclone or something had flooded massive areas on the route from Pemba, the airport town, to Mocimboa, the harbour town where I was supposed to get the boat. The water had receded somewhat, but a bridge on the route had been taken out! Not only would that make the journey difficult, but the island was now struggling to get petrol and the conservation team were on the bottom of the waiting list for it after the lodge and its expensive paying guests. Even if I could manage to get there I would have no petrol to do any fieldwork.</div>
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OK. Two more days left on my transit visa I had been issued because of the cancelled flight. Either take a futile flight to Mozambique or have to rearrange everything and come back to the UK early. Obviously come home, but when I started called Kenya Airways and planning with Mum and Dad about getting my room ready and stuff, I couldn't bear the thought of coming back to England so soon. I had mentally prepared for in a month's time. Its too early! Also I had been trying to get to Vamizi for over a year, I had to see the place. </div>
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I spoke to Rob the South African lodge manager on the island, who said in a classic African manner, "look man, just get here and we'll make a plan". "Making a plan" a great African euphemism for whinging it, has honestly worked for me so far in life, why should now be any different. I can get there, there's always a way, so off to Mozambique again.</div>
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Arriving in Pemba I was surprised how nice it all looked. The town was clean and not terribly ugly or impoverished. The people were super friendly and didn't make a big deal about me being a whitey, like I've experienced everywhere in Kenya. In many ways it was a cross between Brazil and Kenya. A latin Africa or and African latino place. I was enjoying myself and glad about the decision to go for it.</div>
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In the morning I was to get a bus at 5am, which would get me to Mocimboa by 1pm, with a river crossing at the broken bridge, but it was all organised and I would be able to travel with one ticket. What an awesome country! The bus filled pretty quickly as well, which is always a relief, because in Africa a bus never leaves until every seat is filled. However we were still driving in circles around town, and more people getting on, and then the conductor starts climbing over the chairs and pushing people to the back, so that more people can get on. Eventually at 7am when the bus is packed like a sardines can we leave. The amount of people and luggage on that bus gives a whole new meaning to the phrase "Gari imejah!" (Swahili: the car is full). Thank goodness I got a seat.</div>
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As we drove north I tried to get a feel for this nation. We passed small villages of mud walls and thatch roofs, just like in Kenya, women pounding maize in the morning, kids going to school etc. However it was really noticeable the lack of any other kinds of buildings in the villages, or even the fact that almost every house was the same size and arranged in neat rows. A legacy of Mozambique's communist past I suppose or maybe just the fact that there is not as much inequality here as in Kenya. Everyone lives somehow the same. Interesting as well was the amount of uninhabited space. We would drive for long distances and see only bush. It is quite wet and lush as well, so not uninhabitable land, it just appears there are not enough people to fill the space. I began wondering what had happened here during the civil war, when this area was hit the worst in the whole country. </div>
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Finally at 11am we reached the fabled river. We had passed through a large stretch of lowland which was very boggy, but the river itself was quite a narrow one, like many which we had passed. That particular bridge had just been unlucky it seemed. Having a seat near the back of the bus I was one of the last to get off. When I got down, complete pandaemonium ensued. Instantly 50 or so guys from the bush surrounded me demanding to carry my bag. I was trying to be cool and hold off until Herb managed to get his stuff off the bus and we could make a plan of action. He had this ridiculously huge box of PADI course books all nicely wrapped and bound for the clients on the island, which definitely needed carrying, but how to now negotiate who would carry the bags without causing a riot. To carry the stuff ourselves would have brought fury at our selfishness, especially as I was the only Mzungu on the bus. However, deciding who would win our business would also be tricky. I tried to whisper to an old man nearest to me who had approached me early on, and silence ensued throughout my crowd and seemed to pull even more people in. Somehow we escaped this insane situation with my little old man helping me and another guy helping Herb, for the pre-arranged price of around £1 each. Turns out the water was low enough that we actually were supposed to walk across the river. I rolled up my trousers and put my best foot forward into the black mud trying not to think about bilharzia in the water or the fact that my laptop with my PhD thesis on it, my passport and all my money, were perched on this little old man's head. Instead I looked at the dramatic beauty of this lowland area, punctuated by symmetrical oasis palms. It was actually quite a high moment, and I felt quite empowered by the crazy life I lead. </div>
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By this point, because taking forever to extract ourselves from the first bus, we definitely did not get a seat on the second bus. In fact we were perched on the stairs near the door. However, at least we won't have to wait forever for them to sort everyone out right? Wrong. For some inexplicable reason we sat there in our sardine bus in the baking midday heat for nearly an hour. The driver was no where to be seen. Because of the heat and stress a woman on the bus started to have an epileptic fit. Herb and I, with our rescue diver, emergency first response training (oh yeah PADI), tried to do what we could, which was very little other than get her off the bus and hold her in the recovery position until the fitting stopped. It was a helpless situation, in the middle of flooded valley in one of the poorest countries on earth. No one else on the bus seemed to even notice. During this time the driver arrived and once the woman was stable, we tried to get back on the bus, but had to argue with the driver for 15 minutes, because "Gari imejah" he said. Ok not enjoying this anymore.</div>
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2 hours later (with a police stop who searched several passengers on board trying to extort bribes and checking my passport and travel documents with fine tooth comb for the same reason) we arrive in Mocimboa. There is a friendly local guy Herb knows who will help us organise a dhow to get to the island. I just crashed out on the sofa on his porch. </div>
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I was half carried to the beach where the traditional East African sail boat is waiting to take us to the island. "Just two hours, you'll be there by dinner", I'm told. We get on the boat at 7pm, and then sit and sit, until after an hour I ask one of the guys what's the hold-up. Captain's not here. Where is he? At home. Why is he at home? He's at home until he's ready to go. Ayayayiiiiiii. Time in Mozambique is more non-existent than Kenya. In the end I just crashed asleep on the floor of the boat on the hard concrete blocks they were using for ballast. </div>
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I came around some time later to the sound of one guy singing a haunting local folk tune. I opened my eyes to see the sail in full billow in the moonlight and the dramatic southern stars. As I propped myself up land was far in the distance and phosphorescence streaming in the wake of the boat. It was a quintessential moment that cannot be conveyed, only experienced, and one which I hope will stay with me for the rest of my life. Here I was in the middle of Indian Ocean in a traditional sailing boat, which has ferried people up and down this coast like this for hundreds of years. Absolutely magical. I went back to sleep dreaming of the nice dinner and bed awaiting for me. </div>
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What must have been some hours later I woke up to find the moon had set and the boat was in darkness. Herb had been sleeping next to me but now wasn't there. I stumbled to the back of the boat to see what was going on. One guy shouted sharply, "Where are you going!? Lie down! We're working back here." Indeed they were tacking and changing the sail required some moving about, but why was he so rude and where was Herb. Were these guys just going to take me to a desert island somewhere and rob me? Oh man, why didn't I just go home!?</div>
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Turns out Herb was throwing up over the back of the boat and in reality the journey was going to take all night, which everyone except us had known all along. Just as the first glimmer of dawn appeared, the shape of the island came into focus. The captain pointed and smiled. We rounded the corner of the island heading along the northern coastline to get to the lodge. And then we stopped. Sail was furled, anchor dropped. Guys lay down on the decks. When I asked what was happening, the irritated captain explained in his most condescending tone, "This channel is shallow and there might be biiiiig rocks, that we don't want to hit and right now we can't seem them, so we have to wait until sunrise (stupid Mzungu)" One last sleep on the cement for me then. </div>
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We arrived at about 7am in the morning, after however long travelling that had been. Since stepping foot onto the pristine white sands of this beach, I have been enjoying this lost paradise immensely, which made all the journey worth it. I don't know if this is the same for other people, but a significant portion of travelling in my life seems to go like this. Immense good luck and terrible luck intertwined and balancing each other out, however in the end I always seem to land on my feet. I swear it is of none of my own doing, nor planning or anything else. I always end up with some crazy story and yet again there is a happy ending. But that's for another story.</div>
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Speak soon!</div>
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Benjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6954727457042956760.post-65634195208736381082014-04-06T04:54:00.000-07:002014-04-06T04:54:13.823-07:00Leaving KenyaThis is (probably) going to be the last blog I write from Kenya. I had planned on leaving at this time for a few months now. My fieldwork is complete, I am half way through the PhD and it is time to sit down and write out all that I have studied; or at least as much as I can! <div>
I have learnt so so much over the past 3 years. Kenya has shaped me for life and given me the first and possibly second rung on my career ladder. Looking ahead I also think it is impossible that I won't visit or even possibly live here again, but this chapter, working with A Rocha down in Watamu, is at an end. </div>
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I hope that I am more patient. I know I am more rounded when it comes to understanding the human condition. I am also leaving knowing much much more about myself, although I tend to believe this happens to people in their early 20s no matter what they are doing. </div>
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As I was waiting at the bus stop in Gede yesterday with a few friends who were sending me on my way, we were discussing friends, work, the news etc. like I had always lived in that place. In the end the place had really become like home. You know where everything is, you know the people to get you what you need, and if I ever went away I was glad to get back to my little house in Down Valley. However I am not sad to be leaving, I had some amazing amazing times and am leaving with no regrets. </div>
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I am really interested to see how it will be living in the UK now. Although I've visited for small periods of time I haven't lived there properly and haven't seen an entire winter in a long time! Will I slip back into my old lifestyle? Will I find a new niche, as the person I am now? Will I enjoy it or will it always be missing something that Kenya brought into my life? I don't need to find out immediately however. First I am headed to Mozambique for a research trip and my first time to another African country (I never left Kenya in all this time!). I think that place will provide a really interesting comparison to here as well, although I am nervous about being a foreigner again, with not very much language. </div>
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I think whatever happens next I am glad that it has never been boring and I have always been learning and moving forward. The tough times nearly broke me, and the good times have given me more amazing experiences than some people get in a life time. As I move ahead I am excited for the new possibilities and new places I will see. I think I will always be aware of Kenya and what is going on here. Najivunia kuwa mkenya<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Benjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6954727457042956760.post-54394904909821745912014-03-15T13:50:00.000-07:002014-03-15T13:50:03.856-07:00My Amazing PuppyCorniest blog title I could ever ever ever imagine, but I just wrote it. HELP! I'm in love with a super intelligent puppy! Although actually the first story I have to tell just goes to show that all geniuses do crazy things.<br />
Tonight was the third time we sat by the funeral pyre. She snuggled my knees, letting me know that I, mattered to her more than the object of beauty she had just lost. The first time it was a bloody sanitory towel, I found her caressing under a tree. As I approached she gave a deep snarling growl, which I couldn't accept and took 2 full minutes before she displayed her submission with a roll over with her belly exposed. That one had to be burnt with her grabbed by the collar.<br />
The second time it was a nappy. She was more willing to let that one go and she was enjoying learning about the fire.<br />
All afternoon I had smelt something near the house that stunk of death. I immediately suspected Maxine, but I couldn't spot her anywhere near by. It lingered, flowing in on the breeze occasionally, until boom Maxine arrives on the porch, with the smell. She had found it, goodness knows how long ago, but at least 6 hours and since then had being plucking up the courage to show me this item of glory. A flattened hedgehog carcass, very very rotten. Time for fire time again Maxine! Peter and I built a big wood fire this time. She let Peter hold the hedgehog, never jumping for it, but never letting her gaze slip either as she prepared for the inevitable. The fire was stoked. She and I retreated to a small mound near the fire that was comfortable to sit on. Peter placed the item on the fire, while I comforted her as she said goodbye to her super awesome life changing discovery.<br />
The pack order amongst dogs is super interesting (incidently I just tried to do some research on this on Wikipedia and it really freaked me out. Amongst the list of "services" humans get from dogs included dog meat. WTF China?). A dog has a very clear view of who is above them and who is below, and in human society they must always remain at the bottom. Ideally below everyone else, but the lowest in their particular family is also fine. This position has to be continually reinforced during their teenagerdom as they are trying to rise up the ranks. Like our few fire incidents. But the point is as time goes on, she becomes better and better with this agreement and I get to see new insights into this crazy relationship <i>Homo sapiens </i>and <i>Canis lupis familiaris</i>.<br />
After the bonfire was over and we came back over the porch I managed to get her to drink something and clean her of the death smell (like dealing with someones hangover man!) <- oh hilarious I just got disturbed by her for something else she just brought to the door. Turns out it was bread she was chewing on. Good girl! ANYWAY. After she came back to the porch she wanted some attention, so she sat on the door mat and gazed at me for a while and then, just when she was most intensely focused she put her paw on my knee.<br />
Wolves do not use their legs in much social behaviour. A lot is done with mouth, licking, biting, pulling things. However primates most definitely do. We use our hands in one the most incredible diversity of patterns that has ever flowered in evolution. The dog feels this every day when she is petted and scratched in that bang on position, or when we lay our hands on them to show affection and assert dominance. The dog is very aware of the power of hands. So piecing together how we use our hands to love them, rather than our mouths, it might be more beneficial to stay in this relationship by learning a mimicry behaviour which has advantageous consequences. Loving you back with an arm.<br />
Evolution has a whole myriad of stories to tell and insights to grasp. Its a desperately simple principal that when applied, has the most fantastic and magical consequences imaginable, such as the colour patterns in the fish of the reef.<br />
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Benjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6954727457042956760.post-55961419575273139992014-03-09T10:42:00.001-07:002014-03-09T10:42:33.743-07:00A dog, a boat and 100 dives<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
Its been a BUSY weekend with two big achievements. The first is that I finally got the sailing boat into the water! The hull of this old 505 was sat rotting under a tree, where it had sat for over a decade when I got to Mwamba. I couldn't bear to see it like this, so started the task of fixing it. Only I've never fixed sail boats before. NO MATTER. Lots of online reading, plenty of helping hands and expertise and 18 months later we got the boat out! If you're reading this and you helped at some point, a big thank you! We tied it to the mooring using the mast yesterday, only the mast itself wasn't securely securely fastened to the boat, so the boat semi-sank leaving the mast on the sea bed next to the mooring today (but still firmly attached with my amazing knot-tying abilities). Teething problems. No problem really. More sailing adventures to follow!!</div>
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That was yesterday (except for the sinking bit). Today I was assisting with a training dive with AquaVentures, the local dive school. I am training for my DiveMaster, the PADI dive qualification which is recognised by most people as being the "get-in-the-club" qualification for being a professional diver. The bulk of the course is directed towards supervising diving for others and especially students. I was supervising a Russian couple on their 2nd ever dive, on what happened to be my 100th. The lady was a nightmare to keep track of, because she was so excited by everything. The way she looked at the fish and was exploring the reef, reminded me of my early dives. I wanted to see everything and didn't ever want to get out the water again. It was great fun to remember that feeling on a milestone dive.</div>
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So after all that excitement, I've been kicking back with my new best friend, Maxine. She's 5 months old, with black and ginger hair and she loves to french kiss (if only I would let her). She's a Doberman with other random bits in there (labrador?) and is completely adorable. I've never owned a dog before, but I am now hooked. Getting home to an excited puppy then going for a long run and swim on the beach with her is the best part of my day. </div>
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<br />Benjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6954727457042956760.post-37275783688757555552014-02-26T08:31:00.002-08:002014-02-26T08:31:59.463-08:00Coral Reefs for our Kids<div style="text-align: justify;">
Thinking back I don't know that I've ever written a post about my PhD. Or maybe ever mentioned my PhD. For those who don't know I'm doing a PhD. I started 18 months ago, so about 18 months into my time here in Kenya. Since I started I have spent more and more time on that research and less on A Rocha responsibilities. At the moment I am doing almost pure research, as my very able and wonderful colleague Peter takes over from me. This means that I spend most of my waking hours on my research question and so now I will inflict it on you. </div>
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I want to understand how coral reefs interact with thermal stress and climate change and its infamous result, mass coral bleaching. Reefs around the world really have collapsed in the face of increasingly thermal stress in our shallow coastal waters, becoming unrecognisable rubble fields, where once stood vibrant, complex ecosystems. Of all the world's habitats coral reefs are possibly the most impacted system currently from climate change and one of the most threatened with future predictions of ocean warming and acidification. </div>
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What has been most confusing is that seemingly well protected coral reefs such as the Great Barrier Reef or the Chagos Archipelago and even our small marine park here in Watamu, lost the majority of their coral during mass-bleaching events in the past 20 years. Some of these reefs have bounced back, but others haven't and there doesn't seem to be a straight forward answer why this is. </div>
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I won't bore you with the details, but this is what I am studying. What makes reefs resilient, why do they persist or fail, what ecological processes control this? Most elusively and most interestingly I also hope to push forward our knowledge and the question on many coral reef scientist's lips, which reefs will survive for our kids to see? </div>
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The past two weeks I have been down in Kisite on the south coast, near Tanzania, diving twice a day in various fringing reefs and micro-atolls in that area looking at the variation in reef condition. I am looking for signs of health and recovery from previous bleaching events and comparing this with data from Watamu, Sumatra and in the coming year hopefully Mozambique and the Maldives as well. The protected reefs in Kisite are in a really good condition, with abundant and diverse coral and fish communities. I am really starting to see patterns in reef condition as well, such as the most sensitive butterflyfish, which will disappear quickly with decreasing environmental condition. The Bennett's butteflyfish seems to be the fussiest about living in high coral cover with almost no fishing pressure. If you see this guy on your reef, its probably a happy sign :-). </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Healthy reef at Mako Kokwe </td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bennett's Butterflyfish</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fusilier swimming over a huge table coral</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nothing to do with reef resilience, but check out this crazy oyster we found!</td></tr>
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Benjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6954727457042956760.post-74393853573136781522014-02-02T07:36:00.000-08:002014-02-02T07:36:53.186-08:00Fishermen need live reefs too!<div style="text-align: justify;">
<b>Part 1: The idea</b></div>
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On Thursday last week I was attending a Kenya Wildlife Service meeting in Mombasa, which was focussing on how managers within KWS will be more involved with the monitoring of their marine parks, which up until now has largely been conducted by another team of scientists from KWS headquarters in Mombasa. The day was spent discussing the aims, objects and operatives of how this new initiative would work, all of which was quite exciting and seems like it will take big steps in the right direction for the management of Kenya's marine parks. </div>
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At one point a fisheries expert pointed out that one metric that should be included was fishermen support for the park. Marine parks around the world have succeeded because of the tourism money they bring in and because of the improved fisheries in areas adjacent to the park, through spill-over of fish populations into surrounding areas.<b> </b>In Kenya the focus has been on the income from tourists and fisheries benefit has been largely ignored. As such, the meeting leader kind of dismissed the idea as too ambitious for the scope of the current programme, which at first I agreed with. </div>
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On Saturday I was up in Kilifi, hanging out for a chilled out weekend away from work and things. I rode a motorbike down to the main beach there and swam out to the reef. I was expecting to find it in a bad shape because it is outside the national park system, but it was literally dead. There was almost no living coral and all the fish were small planktivores no bigger than 2 or 3cm long. It was just a slope of rubble covered in seaweed. I was reminded again to be so grateful for the marine parks we do have in Kenya, which despite their challenges are doing some good things. </div>
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<b>Part 2: The paradigm shift</b></div>
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Later that Saturday I was sitting in a little dugout canoe in the creek with my social scientist friend Zach. We were using handlines to try and catch whatever was around, as do a lot of the poorest fishermen in this area. Zach and I were talking about his work with wood resources and the people involved with this in Arabuko-Sokoke forest and at a point he made the shocking statement that, "If Arabuko was de-gazetted tomorrow, I wouldn't be unhappy". He went on to explain that from his point of view we have an imperative for justice and the current system of forest management of 'fences and fines' is an injustice. He is passionate about the plight of the people he works with, and people I know as well, but just have never talked to in great detail about their livelihoods and their struggles. </div>
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In the end we did conclude that de-gazetting any natural resources in Kenya wouldn't actually bring long-term happiness to communities, because eventually the area would be exhausted, and most likely by already wealthy business people, who would have more power and motivation to finish the forest for short-term gain. However the point remained that in Zach's eyes the human element really came first. </div>
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I have always acknowledged the importance of community participation in resource conservation, like with marine parks, but in my mind it has always come as a secondary objective. Perhaps because my focus is on the fish, they become my first priority, and as such it doesn't bother me for the moment if fishermen are not receiving benefits from the marine park. It is an eventual goal, but for now at least the fish are semi-ok. However, sitting out there in that little hand carved boat, with nothing but a line and hook and still no fish, it really hit hard the injustice that this would be if it were your livelihood. </div>
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Talking to local fishermen there in Kilifi they mentioned about how many of the fish were being taken by ring-netters from Pemba (see previous blog called <a href="http://benjoinkenya.blogspot.com/2012_02_01_archive.html" target="_blank">Sunday</a>) and even by a company based in Mombasa for the aquarium trade. I also asked the guys if they knew what marine parks were, and what was their point. They said yes they had heard about them, but no they didn't know why they exist. Sheer human population is having its toll on natural resources in open areas in Kenya, but the injustice of those more powerful from the outside taking what little they have, and the fact this makes it impossible to manage their resource even if they knew how, is really abhorrent. </div>
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<b>Part 3: The conclusion</b><br />
So I may be becoming a 'fishermen-first' person. In a way I've always known about these issues and even had some first hand experience. Perhaps before I didn't have enough experience to fully understand, or perhaps I did understand and then forgot as I became bogged down in other stuff. It may seem like a small shift from the outside, but in my context it really feels like a complex one, with important consequences. The main one is that I will hopefully never look at poacher in the park, with his little canoe and hand-line and feel frustrated at him. Rather I will feel motivated to conserve the reef for his sake and make efforts to shift the rotten system which keeps him in his desperate circumstances.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dead reef overgrown with algae</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A day's catch on an unprotected reef</td></tr>
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Benjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6954727457042956760.post-26893622597170233942014-01-19T04:24:00.000-08:002014-01-19T04:24:52.512-08:00Conquering Kenya<div style="text-align: justify;">
In the past three years I've seen a lot of Kenya. I've camped in the jungles of the South Coast and hiked through the Northern Deserts near Ethiopia. There's just a few things I would like to do before I leave Kenya and move back to the UK. The main one on this list is to conquer the mountain that gave the country its name. </div>
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My colleague and friend, Andrew Kinzer, who I've worked with for the past 2 and half years spared time in his last week in Kenya before emigrating to America, and joined me on the mountain, along with our A Rocha's new research director Jaap. </div>
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We entered the park north of Nanyuki to follow the Sirimon Route, which starts at 2500m, ending at Point Lenana 5000m above sea level. The hike would take us 4 days and over about 55km of terrain that does not look like it is in the right continent. Starting in the Olive and Cedar belt, we quickly got above the tree-line at about 3200m where night-time frosts begin in earnest. Our first night camping at Old Moses was shockingly chilly for me even coming from the UK, but especially for Jaap who had left tropical Watamu and sea-level just the 2 days before. We woke to frost on our tent and clear view of the snowy peak in the distance. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Moss covered cedar</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My walking buddies as we crossed the eqautor</td></tr>
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The second day we walked through the heath zone over several ridges until we reached the stunning Mackinder valley, which would lead us straight to the peak. The valley is a classic straight, U-shaped glacial valley, reminiscent of Wales and A-level geography field trips, created when the mountain had far more ice in the last Ice Age. Interestingly Mount Kenya is cone volcano, and once-upon-a-time would have looked more like Kilimanjaro or Mount Fuji and was allegedly nearly 7000m high. Once the volcano had lost its fire and the ice age covered it in glaciers, the cone became eroded and the peak is the steep remnants of the lava plug.</div>
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Mackinder valley was also rather special because it was here where we saw the best displays of Afro-Montane vegetation, and especially the giant lobelias, which are unique to these highland areas. When I was very young I read about these strange landscapes in a book about the Mountains of the Moon in Western Uganda and finally had my childhood imagination fulfilled. Andrew likened one kind of lobelia to Cousin Itt from the Adam's family. I guess you can see why!</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mackinder's Valley</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cousin Itt</td></tr>
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At Shipton's camp, our second night, we set our tent up at the head of the valley underneath the three peaks of Bation, Nelion and Point Lenana. At 4000m the air at the camp was seriously thin and walking to the stream for water left you panting like you'd sprinted there. It is not the physical exertion or cold which makes high mountains so difficult, but the altitude sickness you get if you stray much above 3000m. Headaches, nausea and exhaustion plagued our attempts to relax and sleep before the final accent, which would take us a further 1000m into the thinning atmosphere. Just before I finally fell asleep I decided I would not make it and let the other's claim the victory.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb-E9rQYTz5s9TbGBkXmpxuMBxV2Kdw94sXJFELoiNfjX2kCM61q5DFt_kMFIWGmJJPQDL5SXnyYuG23AkT3gnMpWHZkIjIAKRDmJ39qoVoFHxyPIHxbpFFlx1JTU1AMe7rtkj3F303m7W/s1600/DSCN1904.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjb-E9rQYTz5s9TbGBkXmpxuMBxV2Kdw94sXJFELoiNfjX2kCM61q5DFt_kMFIWGmJJPQDL5SXnyYuG23AkT3gnMpWHZkIjIAKRDmJ39qoVoFHxyPIHxbpFFlx1JTU1AMe7rtkj3F303m7W/s1600/DSCN1904.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reaching 4000m</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxFI6R1Rjwv2atSUXJ5mS85oe5TyT9lA4napSaTbH9GBlL1klViop2TvidzWyWPZj9cMw5IOSeuC0n-CD-EHCNDMdb87F7G2upH5i4GsS6_ra-mZygcsNR25jL-RhlizA-TlCl6-mJRaoB/s1600/DSCN1909.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxFI6R1Rjwv2atSUXJ5mS85oe5TyT9lA4napSaTbH9GBlL1klViop2TvidzWyWPZj9cMw5IOSeuC0n-CD-EHCNDMdb87F7G2upH5i4GsS6_ra-mZygcsNR25jL-RhlizA-TlCl6-mJRaoB/s1600/DSCN1909.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our final camp before the summit</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
At 2:30am we woke and slowly drank a cup of coffee before trying to claim the peak as the sun rose. We started on the steep path up the scree slopes and ridges created by the remaining glaciers at this level. In front of us we could see the little lights of the hikers, who'd woken up before us to claim the same prize. Even though we moved slowly and without too much strain, we joined the other climbers initially and near the top we all sheltered together in a lee, waiting for the dawn to progress out of the wind, just below the summit. Finally when we checked the time, ten minutes to sun rise, we reached the top. The view of the glacier and the sun rising over the distant Indian Ocean, which is still my home for the moment, was everything I'd hoped for. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I'm not a mountain person. I've tried skiing once and didn't like it, and heights in general scare me. In honesty I wouldn't say I enjoyed the experience. It was largely quite exhausting and uncomfortable. However the achievement of having done it means I don't regret doing it for a second. Contented with the success, but wiser about the realities of mountain climbing I vowed never try such a feat again. However both Jaap and Andrew warned me, that the conquering feeling is hard to forget and you'll find yourself clinging to some ice covered pinnacle again and again. We'll see!</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil-JR-zQn1gFuAzJE_GWTYkOHQJWB9HP7MLrSyTYonak4sXDYcjnq6rjFljL_6PPFqTVmdm6vNxEYEDpgun08disP94vw1HJDUs1lcVE4g6nJsUvx9rITOAj6v_Ya6GEjT8fos4pRgP2Wd/s1600/DSCN1931.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil-JR-zQn1gFuAzJE_GWTYkOHQJWB9HP7MLrSyTYonak4sXDYcjnq6rjFljL_6PPFqTVmdm6vNxEYEDpgun08disP94vw1HJDUs1lcVE4g6nJsUvx9rITOAj6v_Ya6GEjT8fos4pRgP2Wd/s1600/DSCN1931.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Victory</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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Benjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6954727457042956760.post-49556583216988161042013-12-01T12:46:00.001-08:002013-12-01T12:46:55.068-08:00Onwards and upwards<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-indent: 36.0pt; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
This blog has been the place where I’ve told stories and
shared thoughts about living far from everything I grew up with. As the years
have gone by new experiences and some times hard learning curves have left me
radically changed. I am now back in Oxford writing up my 1<sup>st</sup> year
PhD transfer report, so it’s not quite the end for Kenya, but it’s not far
away. By May next year I will be back in England for the foreseeable future. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I’ve been using the past few weeks,
not only to ensure I don’t get kicked out the Uni, but also trying to think
about what life might look like when I get back. Yes the city has the same
buildings and even some of the people I knew are still there, but
overwhelmingly I think this really feels like a new chapter. Not that I would
have minded going back to the lifestyle of an undergrad in Oxford, but things
are still moving forward and the adventure continues.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Seeing things with my new African
eyes and experiences is a big part of this of course. A greater consciousness
of how the world works and how the ideas we bounce around in this beautiful
bubble of dreaming spires actually work and apply in the wider and sometimes
uglier world. I also feel I have clear vision of what I am doing and why. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
<span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Already I can see how much I’m going
to miss the sunshine and the reef, which I have come to know so well, but
there’s so many experiences I am looking forward to by being back in the UK.
Oxford is a fantastic place to live. There’s always something to do. Last
weekend the St. Giles Christmas fayre took place, “We the citizens of Oxford
have decided we want to shut down one of the main roads in and out of the city,
so we might fill it with music and food and rides!” There’s so many
distractions and chances to explore ideas, which is the biggest thing I am
looking forward to. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
I’m sure they’ll be a few more stories yet from Kenya, before I’m finished, but here’s to what the future holds. I’m excited.</div>
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Benjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6954727457042956760.post-48481123767959727902013-10-17T12:04:00.000-07:002013-10-17T12:04:22.099-07:00Before you die<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Ever read one of those lists of things to do before you die? Usually I don't bother, because the concept is somehow bizarre, like ticking boxes on a checklist or maybe assuming everyone should experience the same things. A really common one on the list is "Swim with dolphins", also quite bizarre. Why not any other wildlife encounter? What if you're terrified of water? However, last weekend this was one of those on the list of things "before you die" which I actually achieved. </div>
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I went down to Kisite with the current marine volunteers for a snorkelling road trip along the coast all the way down to the Tanzanian border and on the Sunday we jumped off the boat into a pod of dolphins. There were no other boats around and these dolphins had no problems with us at all. The four of us swam and played with the dolphins for about an hour. It was certainly a unique experience, as they are really interested in you and want to play. In the moment I think I probably also said, "it's ok, now I can die, I got to swim with dolphins" Ha ha.</div>
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Later that day after a spectacular snorkel on the coral reef in this particular section of crystal clear warm Indian Ocean, we stopped by one of the uninhabited little islands of shore for a final dip before heading back to the mainland and our drive back to Watamu. I swam around the rocky cliffs at high tide with the jungle pouring down the sculpted limestone overhangs which are typical of the East African coastline. Small fish swam around the rocks and the occasional submerged rock pool was a treasure trove of interesting little things to look at. I sat on the beach of a tiny cove, listening to the silence and sparkling water hushing against the sand. </div>
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It was one of those lovely completely contented moments where everything is right in life. No stress, no noise, no conflict or angst in your heart. It felt like I could have quite happily camped on that little island and swam around discovering all the secret little worlds in the sea there for ever. Its good to know what you like and what you don't. I really like the sea, and isolated natural beauty and exploring. Seems simple, but how often do people really find what makes them content through all the other noise and clamour? I think this is really what is most important to do before you die, find what makes you happy and try and do it as much as possible between all the other parts of living. </div>
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Benjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6954727457042956760.post-24740115756152783172013-09-19T19:13:00.002-07:002013-09-19T19:13:33.607-07:00Grim up North?You may have heard that Turkana in Northern Kenya, one of poorest and most desolate places in the world is sitting on not only oil, but now huge supplies of water as well. This is nothing less than revolutionary for this area, and one way or the other it will never be the same again. You may have also heard that resource wealth in Africa is rarely exploited or shared fairly amongst the people of the nation, remember "Blood Diamonds"? Anyway the certainty of big change to a unique area and the very real potential for there to be ugly incidents along the way, prompted me to think and try and write a small article here on what really might happen. Luckily the BBC got there first and saved me the trouble!<br />
Check out this succinct and accurate article http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-africa-24134014#TWEET895436 (Letter from Africa: Kenya, a Nation of Firsts)<br />
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<br />Benjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6954727457042956760.post-77124782515325182062013-09-16T05:39:00.000-07:002013-09-16T05:39:01.308-07:00Benjo in Indonesia
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My
first time to Asia and I was both excited and nervous before arriving. After a
confusing and sleepy first night in Jakarta I flew to Sumatra the next day,
following the Indian Ocean coastline and tracing the Indonesian islands of Java
and Sumatra in my mind. I don’t know why but these islands have always held a
mystical quality in my mind. Perhaps it was the thought of remote rainforests
with tigers and orang-utans surrounded by super-diverse coral reefs. <o:p></o:p></div>
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In
reality, the city of Bengkulu, which is the base from where I am working, is
one of the most boring and ugly cities I have ever visited (up there with
Derby). It is crowded, functional and without any unique features. Indonesia is
quite developed and between the bright-strobe lights of the supermarkets to the
fast-food restaurants I think I got a similar overload of modernity that I feel
when I get back to the UK, where I just want to run away to somewhere wild and
beautiful. Unfortunately there was a lot of planning to do with Bob and our
local contact Sean, which meant working from the hotel (where the standard
rooms have no windows!) and even when we were finally ready to start fieldwork
and get out to the reef we were thwarted by bad weather. <o:p></o:p></div>
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There
are two islands we are trying to investigate. One is Tikus, a small spit of
sand 4 miles off-shore from Bengkulu with 2km long fringing reef around it. The
other is 18mile long island called Enganno, 200 miles south in the middle of
the Indian Ocean. We tried getting to Tikus, but bad weather prevented us
getting out there. We set off to Enganno and sat for 3 hours in a very bumpy ferry
(even I felt sea-sick) and then turned around, being told it was too risky. We
tried one more time to get to Tikus and succeeded. It was great to be in the
water and see a new reef in a new place, but when we tried to get back the next
day to start fieldwork, after having decided on the study sites, the weather
got in the way again! One stressful week had passed with no data, eating rice
and prawn crackers three times a day and trying to navigate arrangements with
no language or control over the situation. In addition I was actually quite ill
with three different infections, which I had to blast with antibiotics. I was
very stressed and fed-up.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Finally
we attempted the ferry to Enganno again and succeeded! Our team included two
students from Bengkulu university, Mukti and Dede, plus Bob and Sean. We
arrived on the island at about 9am after leaving Bengkulu at 8pm the night
before, and as I woke up and looked out the windows I saw a deserted
tropical coastline with coconut palms,
white sands, rainforest behind and multi-shades of turquoise and blue hinting
at the reefs below. The island was much
bigger than I had thought, but apparently there are only 6000 people on it, so
most of it is uninhabited pristine rainforest. We were staying with a family
the Mukti knew well and were shown into their simple, but very comfortable
house, nestled between the mangroves and the rainforest right on the water’s edge.
It was idyllic and all my pent up frustration disappeared in moments. Not many
Westerners get to Bengkulu and even fewer to Enganno, which is evident from the
lack of English from the majority of people and fascinated stares I get
everywhere I go. I am probably the first person to have ever collected
ecological data on the reefs there. I felt very privileged and excited to be
working in this place. <o:p></o:p></div>
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So began
four blissful days of diving in tropical paradise. The reefs were spectacular,
the coastline was postcard perfect and the people we were working with were a
delight. I really had to pinch myself
and remember that it was real and happening. It felt like a major mile-stone in
my life. Here I was diving in one of the remotest more beautiful places I have
ever seen and being paid to be there! The past few years of work, study and
sometimes struggle in Kenya are paying off. <o:p></o:p></div>
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The
little fishing boat we puttered around the coastline in was owned and driven by
a guy known at Pat-Nur, from the sea faring Madurese people from the island of
Madura in east Java. They are known for their quick tempers, sharp tongues and
apparently their traditional dress is based on 17<sup>th</sup> century pirate
outfit. I loved Pat-Nur. He knew the water around that island perfectly, telling
me all the best spots for research. He understood what I wanted and didn’t mind
taking detours and stopping the boat at random. Most people in Indonesia, like
Kenya, are very indirect, withholding information so not to disappoint, not
explaining plans and easily offended direct instructions or questions. Not with
Pat-Nur I told him what I wanted (through a translator of course) and he told
me straight if it wasn’t possible. He was a real character.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The
reefs were in really good condition. I saw 16 species of butterflyfish in the 4
days of fieldwork there. In 2 years in Watamu I have only found 10. The
remotest site we went to had a lot of groupers indicating little fishing
pressure away from the small settlements. All the reefs had big fish, including
the endangered Humpheaded Wrasse (<i>Cheilinus
undulatus), </i>which I found in one spot. I only saw a small fraction of the
under-sea wonderland there. I could have stayed and studied it for a few years.
<o:p></o:p></div>
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It
was with great sadness I left my happy host family and Pat-Nur and strong
desire to come back one day to this special place. The thought of Bengkulu and
all the stress of trying to organise boats and gear to do fieldwork at Tikus
was too much. In the end Tikus also went well and the weather stayed
reasonable. I enjoyed the dives, but the reef just wasn’t the same. <o:p></o:p></div>
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So
in the end I’ve seen the mystical and the ugly side of Indonesia and I’m sure
there are many more sides to see in this huge country. As ever, I hope that I
can see more of the remote, untouched places and also really hope that they
won’t disappear too soon. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5PdLNzdSh_L14isv93igRU_CT6lahNkLBdZvABHXKouDW2G3QdW6mNmL-BDdCsj3QnnsBEMqDrnhL2-d8mLysFdECKgol3TOx3JXz3n3R_p9kTycvFRgis-Yvch5MlkB8UrIots4ZKwXT/s1600/DSCN0653.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5PdLNzdSh_L14isv93igRU_CT6lahNkLBdZvABHXKouDW2G3QdW6mNmL-BDdCsj3QnnsBEMqDrnhL2-d8mLysFdECKgol3TOx3JXz3n3R_p9kTycvFRgis-Yvch5MlkB8UrIots4ZKwXT/s320/DSCN0653.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My host-grandma cooking fish</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Typical meal with the research team</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lunch in the jungle. Pat-Nur is on the right. Dive buddy Mukti on the left</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrbvsnCIw-iEEvoliAO_xtxsl5hmhfTlx7BohoQmhLp_FKKYfMtVkXntspCMh2_SX_MOq0POXG8Ek81G4vzA29A1PRq4ThaTW-GTC8WkeVF2Sb9zyeeVFMLCI4FOGy1aHFw6blTdDyv9A3/s1600/DSCN0698.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrbvsnCIw-iEEvoliAO_xtxsl5hmhfTlx7BohoQmhLp_FKKYfMtVkXntspCMh2_SX_MOq0POXG8Ek81G4vzA29A1PRq4ThaTW-GTC8WkeVF2Sb9zyeeVFMLCI4FOGy1aHFw6blTdDyv9A3/s320/DSCN0698.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeF2zmXIkbDJPXf1Rq48yrv7fgHWmLZUx_i8LAUqEnClGVxsrmmzHkICIPNR6I8HjfvyzrwuRGitnO4_rNE5os9wkZ26mtQfIVnXQgGLq61OgG-0jmHabmvlCWfBADHr4_3AV8NedjJHqo/s1600/DSCN1145.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeF2zmXIkbDJPXf1Rq48yrv7fgHWmLZUx_i8LAUqEnClGVxsrmmzHkICIPNR6I8HjfvyzrwuRGitnO4_rNE5os9wkZ26mtQfIVnXQgGLq61OgG-0jmHabmvlCWfBADHr4_3AV8NedjJHqo/s320/DSCN1145.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTQTolRmnp5ZM6rzxhnrr6Kk_sCNGzEpyZyTs-JBAjTDjYpyXQ0s57x4ZoHwO9Ed18MKAFpO_VbPbjJGPbJtjcdXTHlc247Xc2g7ES0XKwpdhVVf8BAhIYc6ALYXcinPdj58UkD4QA7ti6/s1600/DSCN1198.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTQTolRmnp5ZM6rzxhnrr6Kk_sCNGzEpyZyTs-JBAjTDjYpyXQ0s57x4ZoHwO9Ed18MKAFpO_VbPbjJGPbJtjcdXTHlc247Xc2g7ES0XKwpdhVVf8BAhIYc6ALYXcinPdj58UkD4QA7ti6/s320/DSCN1198.jpg" width="232" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqaqTMdxuzpMRYgmbGrjZlvey1H7AN0Ea2729NDursN4FI7qN8JQFxXDCAUsOy8VfUitah99_P8eGGHBpZItHHVa0apPiYu66V63PGJwsfvX0aqk4n5yAGDlyBHaelhW6-MjrcKO3jCGJ2/s1600/DSCN1130.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqaqTMdxuzpMRYgmbGrjZlvey1H7AN0Ea2729NDursN4FI7qN8JQFxXDCAUsOy8VfUitah99_P8eGGHBpZItHHVa0apPiYu66V63PGJwsfvX0aqk4n5yAGDlyBHaelhW6-MjrcKO3jCGJ2/s320/DSCN1130.jpg" width="254" /></a></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUYezRC5KqA2yJR5Dhy0cztrETusn00fbivmq-1Nbdt9QQw8r-tmvqOOEvj44NPmbbU7d20Zdjy6SplnhlvMXN4zK-JPOoo3QX0_cHPOpYi33H4SOdHV2AWW6a0spHGxFMDfFzEMtpZ8z4/s1600/Pomacentridae+-+Aphiprion+ocellaris+(False+clown+fish).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUYezRC5KqA2yJR5Dhy0cztrETusn00fbivmq-1Nbdt9QQw8r-tmvqOOEvj44NPmbbU7d20Zdjy6SplnhlvMXN4zK-JPOoo3QX0_cHPOpYi33H4SOdHV2AWW6a0spHGxFMDfFzEMtpZ8z4/s320/Pomacentridae+-+Aphiprion+ocellaris+(False+clown+fish).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nemo says hi!</td></tr>
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<!--EndFragment-->Benjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6954727457042956760.post-91904563570102491032013-08-18T11:46:00.001-07:002013-08-18T11:46:43.044-07:00Diving Discoveries<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The past couple of weeks since getting back from safari I have been doing lots of dives. At the moment I am working with a series of methods to understand more about "Reef Resilience" which is the ecological properties of particular reef to bounce back from large scale disturbances, and especially bleaching. It has been very intense, spending 3-4 hours on fieldwork a day and stretching our 200bar of pressure in the dive tank as far as it can go. However, while down we still have managed to see some amazing things. I've snorkelled and dived these reefs here Watamu for nearly 3 years now and I still find things that are new and awesome.</div>
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One of the best finds was a Mantis Shrimp. Not only is it one of the most decorated and stunning creatures on the planet, but it has some really really remarkable biology. I won't go into detail here, but rather suggest you read the following comic for more explanation. Seriously cool animal. http://theoatmeal.com/comics/mantis_shrimp</div>
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Another find was a really large Triton shell. This enormous shell must have been a very old individual and is a rare sight on reefs these days. These special shells are predators on starfish and especially the Crown of Thorns (COT) starfish, which has been made famous for destroying huge areas of reef in the Barrier Reef and other locations, when plague like proportions of them descend on the reef eating all live coral in sight. These shells are one of a very few animals which prey on the COT and help to regulate its population reaching these extreme levels. However, due to the souvenir shell trade they are much less common than before and indeed it has been thought that their absence may lead to increased reproductive success of the COT and hence the blooms which have wiped out areas of reef around the world. It is great to see this old timer still on our reef here and amazing to see such an enormous shell.</div>
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At the bottom I've attached a video of my dive buddy Tim performing a challenge on his 10th recorded dive since qualifying. I wanted to test his underwater skills and have some fun too. Enjoy :-D</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of my transects across a very pretty patch of coral</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4LQSJNx6hddfi8IveLmaaj7UjhDbKAzTrBh1XYLZ8SuZ7q9ly8KxcAh7C5OwcLFhIfA1uouEzjhOahyImeInGmxbpbXmu_E5fApWREv7C7emCWqOon-iyv-be1RLABhJd8JYBx64mTFsN/s1600/DSCN6228.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4LQSJNx6hddfi8IveLmaaj7UjhDbKAzTrBh1XYLZ8SuZ7q9ly8KxcAh7C5OwcLFhIfA1uouEzjhOahyImeInGmxbpbXmu_E5fApWREv7C7emCWqOon-iyv-be1RLABhJd8JYBx64mTFsN/s320/DSCN6228.JPG" width="279" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Awesome Mantis Shrimp</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkQBnCpd-9wMh1oeDh6pMk4rgyevxeGw5IN09WV-VEEn4FF7WdeC9EmgtxpTYqubQ-DIdlkECRHKFelFIN9aOsUORLWOTJH784eBueQW7B1hptBbdvY4LeYfRI-CqDJ93h-zWpD8YZwf4k/s1600/DSCN6276.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkQBnCpd-9wMh1oeDh6pMk4rgyevxeGw5IN09WV-VEEn4FF7WdeC9EmgtxpTYqubQ-DIdlkECRHKFelFIN9aOsUORLWOTJH784eBueQW7B1hptBbdvY4LeYfRI-CqDJ93h-zWpD8YZwf4k/s320/DSCN6276.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My dive buddy Tim with a Triton shell bigger than his head</td></tr>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyLjEkeYqrr_IJal9c8AkslbFy-_mtp7aoVqQ0Vbao4jhSKvDKQVIzvKbpjxFUrF7WERmy4I4fyQtDcvbFP' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Benjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6954727457042956760.post-63895342421735717152013-07-31T12:17:00.000-07:002013-07-31T12:17:45.626-07:00Who am I?<div style="text-align: justify;">
I've started this blog post without a title. By the end of the entry I'm sure it will have one, but currently the monologue you are reading is not sure which route it will take. Only a week ago I got back from an absolutely amazing two week safari with my brother and a friend to the four corners of Kenya, where we traversed rainforest, desert, high mountain peaks and deep coral reefs and everything in between. However, I don't feel particularly inspired to brag about my awesome holiday (even though it was awesome). Tonight I read the blog of a westerner studying Swahili in Dar es Salaam, and their post of African lateness. I presume this person must be quite new to the continent if they are needing to express their observations on lateness and its causes, as after a while it is best just not to think about it and get on with the African rhythm as an ordinary part of life. But the point is this; the person was expressing something and was using that expression to help with an aspect of their life. I haven't done that in ages! Tonight I'm going to write about my situation and if you want to see safari photos, invite me around for coffee another time ;-).</div>
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I am a marine biologist. I am a Christian. I am a PhD student. I am an NGO worker. I am British. I am a foreigner. (Blog title decided here) My life currently seems to be a balance of contrasting and sometimes conflicting roles. Never before have I had to negotiate so many different facets to my life, especially in my work, where I have to balance very carefully where I invest time in PhD work and work for A Rocha. But it stretches to every aspect including social life. Not until I had the lovely, but surprising crash of worlds with my friends and brother visiting here, did I realise how I live with different personalities, one for Kenyans and A Rocha and one for the UK. Not that I'm being un-true to either world, but their almost entirely independent existence in my life means that I express and interact with things in different ways. </div>
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This balancing act is sometimes quite stressful, but for most of the time now, I have figured out how to do it with not too much difficulty. I switch language, mannerisms, jokes without even having to think about it. Sometimes I realise mid-switch and I'm glad that I can dip in and out of different worlds. I don't think that the various strands of one's life necessarily come together and harmonise, but rather that you just learn how to hold all the strings at once. I don't think that much of the Scientific community I interact with and the Christian community I interact with would agree on certain points. Where do I sit? In both camps and in neither. Sometimes I feel pressure from one side or the other to confirm to that view, e.g. views on church, views on alcohol, views on data-sharing, views about the West etc. etc., and sometimes I become a chameleon if I feel too uncomfortable to stand my ground. Other times I don't know what my stance is and I just get on with it, like my ambivalence towards African time. </div>
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A multi-faceted life can feel quite lonely at times. Very few people span the variety of experience and expression that you do, so it is a road you must walk alone. This has certainly been the experience in Kenya, where I have had to learn how balance and nurture my various roles fairly independently. Balancing roles doesn't always need to be difficult; a guy who likes fishing and golf can play golf one day and fish another, but the particularly contrasting and conflicting nature of some of the roles I assume is where the challenge lies. </div>
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I think that currently I am really content in my roles and also quite content that not many other people necessarily understand them. The only puzzle remaining is this; how many other people go through the balancing act? I think it has taught me a lot of resilience and life skills trying to keep all the balls juggling, but is this a normal part of growing up or something unique to unusual situations like living and working abroad? If you're reading this and understand what on earth I am trying express leave a comment.</div>
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Anyway I might as well leave one sneaky photo to get you interested in the awesome safari.<br />
Until next time.</div>
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Benjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6954727457042956760.post-31873838489623619282013-07-08T12:02:00.001-07:002013-07-08T12:02:26.158-07:00Winter in the tropics<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
I saw on BBC weather today that London is basking in a rare spell of 30 degree heat. Here in Kenya it is technically winter. Yes even though we sit on the equator there is definitely a cooler, wetter, windier season, which corresponds to the Southern Hemisphere winter. Currently I am sitting right on the Equator in the lovely town of Nanyuki on the slopes of Mount Kenya, where it is very cold (for me at least) dropping down to 10 at night. However, even at the coast it has had a wintery feel to it, that I am experiencing for the first time, because in other years I went back to the UK during this time.</div>
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From May onwards the tourists all vacate Watamu and even many locals go to their home areas, to visit family and relax until the season picks up again. The beach is empty, there's no boats in the bay and the sea is dramatic. Its actually an incredibly beautiful time of the year to experience, with a completely different character to what I'm used to. The diving has been really difficult and has often felt like diving in a washing machine, but it has been worth staying to see the storms rolling in from the sea and explosion of green and flowers on land.</div>
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<br />Benjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6954727457042956760.post-61101489362716879762013-06-16T21:05:00.000-07:002013-06-16T21:05:23.669-07:00Birthday Abroad<div style="text-align: justify;">
I am 24! When I started this blog I was 21 and thought that I was just doing a 3 month stint on a gap year after my undergrad and now I am here still writing on how it is being here in Kenya. This year for the first time I have stayed through May and June also, which is the stormiest time of year and so not ideal for fieldwork. This year was therefore my first birthday I had away from the UK I think. </div>
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There are a really awesome crowd of volunteers here at the moment and in addition my friend Emma is here doing here research project in the area, so it has been quite a fun time to be around anyway, but made my birthday extra special with all these people around. We started the day doing a rockpooling event for World Ocean's Day which has fallen on June the 8th since my 3rd birthday, where already at the World Summit in Rio they could see I was a budding marine biologist. After quite an intense, but super fun morning, I crashed out for a while and then spent the afternoon with Roni, Colin and Kai and getting things ready for the party at my house later on. </div>
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See below the awesomeness that Robin and Benji prepared for their favourite marine researcher :-). </div>
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Benjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6954727457042956760.post-30096807934552414112013-04-27T13:45:00.000-07:002013-04-27T13:45:26.227-07:00My little house down in the valley<div style="text-align: justify;">
For about 6 months now I have lived in a little house near Turtle Bay in a neighbourhood called Down Valley. This blog post is all about living in my little house named "Whale Island House", the first house I have ever really been responsible for (i.e. not rented from University or shared with several others) and the ways in which it has made my life here in Kenya all the better. Its maybe not as adventurous or unusual as some of my other posts, but it means a lot to me. </div>
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One of the obvious benefits of living in a house is have some privacy and independence; at A Rocha it can be very exhausting living and working in the same space and especially because there is such a high turn over of guests and volunteers. Moving 3km down the road gives just the right amount of separation to switch off at the end of the day and also be able to control ones own space. I love being able to decorate, cook what I like and the commute along the beach is probably one of the best in the world!</div>
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Here in Kenya the place where you live is named after your nearest "shopping centre" or "duka's" (series of small shops selling essentials) and those shops become a form of social cohesion for the people living nearby. Now, after 6 months, I am known to most people in the shopping centre, who greet me as I walk home from work and chat with while I buy my bits and pieces. Obviously this doesn't seem like a major achievement and really is just normality for most people in UK or elsewhere, but anyone who has spent time in Africa or perhaps anywhere culturally distinct, will know how hard it is to achieve that level of normality. Every time I come home from work the numerous kids from Down Valley greet me by name, not just because I am novelty, but because they play in my garden and we chat and hang out at weekends. It is one of the best things since moving to the house, finally being able to feel that at least in one corner of this country, that I belong as part of the community. </div>
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Below are a series of photos of my lovely house and I hope it will encourage some of you to come and visit. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Front of the house</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The living room</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Desk space</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kitchen</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bathroom complete with a frog we have named Colgate who lives in the sink</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Veranda with all important hammock</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Benjo's boudoir</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flame tree in the garden with some of the cheeky monkeys who live nearby<br /></td></tr>
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Benjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6954727457042956760.post-49752127213436282692013-03-28T12:32:00.001-07:002013-03-28T12:32:37.016-07:00Jammy luck!<div style="text-align: justify;">
Many people who know me well have commented about how I seem to have the most extraordinary luck in getting things or meeting people or doing things that just fall into my lap. This week has been a very good example of this unusual and very fortuitous phenomenon, but to a degree at which I can still not quite believe. </div>
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Earlier on this year I was thinking about visiting Lamu, but wanted to connect it with my research somehow. There's a big port development going into Manda Bay very near to Lamu, to basically ship out South Sudanese oil, when they finally build the pipeline, and I thought I would advertise my marine biology skills to any conservation groups who might like some information. I tried WWF to no avail, and then through a contact in Watamu, who mentioned someone up here who I was told had a turtle conservation project. I called and they said that they would love to have me up here and could provide accommodation and a boat. However not until I got an email from them confirming details did I know that the person I had spoken to was also the owner of the Peponi hotel, the most luxurious hotel in Lamu! </div>
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Paul (a visiting marine researcher at A Rocha) and I travelled up on the local coach, being bounced around in the back of the bus, and then across to Lamu town in a very dodgy bus boat which was insanely overloaded and then ran out of fuel with a rapid tide pulling us back in a mangrove swamp. When we finally did make it to shore the Peponi speed boat picked us up, delivered us to our stunning rooms and the whole world changed. Suddenly everything was clean and worked and people were answering to our every need. I felt like saying, "You don't need to do that, we're not paying, we're just scientists!". I really couldn't believe that we had genuinely arrived and were genuinely staying in the room where I am now writing this post from.</div>
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After a great moonlight party, that just so happened to occur on the night we arrived, we set off for the first of two reefs we visited during our time here in the super fast speed boat with its 150hp engine. We had a great day of fieldwork and I was really encouraged by a sense of confidence in my own ability as a scientist. People are starting to respect my knowledge and skills in the water, which I still find a bit surprising and I often am afraid they will discover I am a fraud! </div>
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After the fieldwork the two local guys we were with, who are both connected with the hotel and who we were going to help with their petitions for saving the reefs in that area, took us to a deserted island for lunch. We were asked to choose some food lunch in the morning, but I really wasn't expecting the full scale picnic that had been carried out there for us! These guys, who we had spent all morning hanging out with as equals and colleagues, then started serving us with great gusto, barbequeing fish, serving drinks, all around a lovely picnic table complete with a table cloth! The Peponi doesn't skimp on any detail or luxury. It actually started raining quite heavily during the meal and the four of us sat in the dripping wet, laughing a lot, while I contemplated what a weird and exciting life I lead. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Our Boudoir</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkhAV8smOxu1Y3FCXAlbhh5CTkoTdCkZio8rkrrF7RxGjaEArhz0xHSQ-l_azKHX4skroQtdpx8mQ-EsK5lJvTuCNdgJQgorVBhzk4XPoOonULl3pOXc619oxTscASye4VkQp8hR8JQxdL/s1600/DSCN2350+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkhAV8smOxu1Y3FCXAlbhh5CTkoTdCkZio8rkrrF7RxGjaEArhz0xHSQ-l_azKHX4skroQtdpx8mQ-EsK5lJvTuCNdgJQgorVBhzk4XPoOonULl3pOXc619oxTscASye4VkQp8hR8JQxdL/s320/DSCN2350+-+Copy.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stek flambe au Peponi</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJYwxaHvSctZAz2t_hF6dz-LlH6k8sscx-JxWazjKyV3vz4Go0-j6HT0qJeXXwSl7OXb52yL2Qs94tSFFeLval9fB_mtO5PkEAPsUBD-nytLYoUKYOCs1fzd3k4MU_TOXRuFQ9hCDbmVIg/s1600/DSCN2343+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJYwxaHvSctZAz2t_hF6dz-LlH6k8sscx-JxWazjKyV3vz4Go0-j6HT0qJeXXwSl7OXb52yL2Qs94tSFFeLval9fB_mtO5PkEAPsUBD-nytLYoUKYOCs1fzd3k4MU_TOXRuFQ9hCDbmVIg/s320/DSCN2343+-+Copy.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stunning underwater scenes in Kinika rocks near Lamu</td></tr>
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Benjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6954727457042956760.post-27296783930378633012013-03-04T11:53:00.001-08:002013-03-04T11:53:25.564-08:00P.s. Owww!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Also, during these hot still conditions, a lot jellyfish and other stinging things bloom in the water. Today I got a Portuguese man-of-war wrapped around my neck. For the two hours or agony afterwards I think the world should know! :-P</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDOdYSn58zqT0wV58iE7oYWDmzHgpQ0uwFTdUFosJe2dcXZVtRnAiAlfpcTSP_7ZMuxFv0sRQJzHvm0DoD36W7BfJQ6FOutj6jjMDDoZtW6nQHhh02Yinn9CxWC_GOJX9PWUtj4TtOrt10/s1600/DSCN1889.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDOdYSn58zqT0wV58iE7oYWDmzHgpQ0uwFTdUFosJe2dcXZVtRnAiAlfpcTSP_7ZMuxFv0sRQJzHvm0DoD36W7BfJQ6FOutj6jjMDDoZtW6nQHhh02Yinn9CxWC_GOJX9PWUtj4TtOrt10/s320/DSCN1889.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhysPYBLehQbhPVeKUJ0jpIA2qg1X3FqYlONoQ5kguUlGLtBYFeOBMtqmd8TtcRyeBjbSK68_Oii_zcU2GtHt-XpvFFpz6oc87YU12sNdHKby6evGY2oTXtfdkTDBE0_6uWNfghZYIottWf/s1600/DSCN1891.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhysPYBLehQbhPVeKUJ0jpIA2qg1X3FqYlONoQ5kguUlGLtBYFeOBMtqmd8TtcRyeBjbSK68_Oii_zcU2GtHt-XpvFFpz6oc87YU12sNdHKby6evGY2oTXtfdkTDBE0_6uWNfghZYIottWf/s320/DSCN1891.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />Benjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6954727457042956760.post-12541843350682242472013-03-04T11:42:00.000-08:002013-03-04T11:42:01.117-08:00Winds of Change<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Normally a Monday morning means waking up and going to a meeting with all the A Rocha staff, but today that was not the case. The elections for the fourth president since independence were taking place today, so everyone got a bank holiday to go and vote. Of course I couldn't vote and rather than stay at home, I decided to carry on with some field-work out in the ocean.<br />
The morning was thick and hot, like most days in March. This time of year the hot dry north-east monsoon (kaskazi) is replaced by the cooler wet south-east monsoon (kusi), and in the time between the two the weather is like a pressure cooker. Hot, still and very moist. Days this time of year are sometimes referred to as glass days, because the sea is flat calm like a mirror. The conditions are beautiful for photography, but a nightmare to endure for many days on end.<br />
On this particular still calm glass day it felt even more eerily quiet and liable to shatter, as the many people stayed at home all day, only venturing out to cast their votes. No one was to be seen on the streets, no shops were open and not even the sound of radios or lively chatter was to be heard. No one wants to take chances and risk being caught in violence or conflicts that occurred during the last election, where a close call election was claimed by both presidential candidates and then fought with violence between their two main supporting ethnic groups.<br />
Many have talked about this election being a make or break situation, where Kenya will either triumph as a modern nation capable of holding free and fair elections, a growing economy and an increasingly educated and influential population or it will collapse and become another Rwanda or Congo or numerous other examples from this most turbulent continent. In reality I don't think either will happen.<br />
I think its quite possible that the dominant Kikuyu tribe, being championed by Uhuru Kenyatta and ruled by fellow Kikuyu President Kibaki for the last ten years, will win this election because at least in part by their enormous financial influence. I think many people will be unhappy by this result, but the majority will not want to revert to the fear and violence experienced last time around and will buckle down and get on with life as they ever have, for 10 years now under Kibaki and 24 under his even worse predecessor Moi. That's what Kenyans do, they get on and make the best of a bad situation.<br />
However, even if Odinga, the main contester and previous runner up in the controversial 2007 elections, does win, it will not be shining light of a new era that people are trying to convince themselves. Raila Odinga's father, like Uhuru Kenyatta's, was part of the first ever independent Kenyan government after the British left in 1963. Both are from highly influential political families and hence also are both stinking rich. The money and property they have acquired is enormous, and in stark contrast to the many in this country who struggle to feed themselves. The wealth divide in this country is terrible and in many ways I think this is worse poverty than overall statistics about how many people live on less than $1 a day or however one wants to define wealth. Will Odinga really change this? Will any politicians think beyond self enrichment, to the needs of their people? I do hope Odinga will win and bring a change in politics to this country, but I think it will be a while before corruption, wealth divide and tribal politics are a thing of the past.<br />
In the afternoon, on the empty blistering white beach I felt a breeze begin and strengthen from the South-East and rain clouds appear on the horizon. Change is coming, but it is a long way off yet.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmX6oGAlqDEURPbDd3y7eS3BOV8gemfoWBAMP8Vyh5GMOlQzhKlkmZVxBAZVSb2FpwbWGmKHfL0C-8k59u_cS_4C2v9zXVTDLIyTmcsMc1-lueh7ZZXN4m3BGuXLDquSUUSqZQMsfescmR/s1600/DSCN1885.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmX6oGAlqDEURPbDd3y7eS3BOV8gemfoWBAMP8Vyh5GMOlQzhKlkmZVxBAZVSb2FpwbWGmKHfL0C-8k59u_cS_4C2v9zXVTDLIyTmcsMc1-lueh7ZZXN4m3BGuXLDquSUUSqZQMsfescmR/s320/DSCN1885.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A typical "glass day" with rain clouds building with the pressure and heat.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw30dLjO9ReFqjQBtLNUsupJKQPhCbC1MoCVejAmkzKNPMolM55E0TR2gTMJluLEuPM3wbIsDPi6E7zhiP4XA2JpWWai4cKe3F0llK3nde0tygcS4pVO1MGq1RLjwrTHaInHiExfMj9m0Y/s1600/DSCN1886.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw30dLjO9ReFqjQBtLNUsupJKQPhCbC1MoCVejAmkzKNPMolM55E0TR2gTMJluLEuPM3wbIsDPi6E7zhiP4XA2JpWWai4cKe3F0llK3nde0tygcS4pVO1MGq1RLjwrTHaInHiExfMj9m0Y/s320/DSCN1886.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reflections of floating seaweed from underwater</td></tr>
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<br />Benjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6954727457042956760.post-40116465533314561392013-02-20T11:37:00.001-08:002013-02-20T11:37:33.376-08:00Spreading the Word<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
Here in Kenya very few people like the sea. This is a fact which has taken a long time for me to accept as my whole life purpose at the moment is driven by my own love for the deep. The reason is that very few people have access to swimming pools and many areas of the country don't have any large areas of water, and so no one learns how to swim and hence the ocean is just a death trap. Even for those who are born on the coast, the sea is associated with black magic and death. Genies live in the waters and 4m tall spirits in black cloaks are said to stalk the beach at night. I don't know how much people really believe this, but it certainly seems no one wants to risk it.</div>
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So why does this matter? Well a crucial part of conservation, which I believe A Rocha has grasped, but few other conservation organisations really focus on, is the beliefs behind why something has conservation value. In the West especially, many of the hottest new buzz words and conservation concepts miss this essential facet. "Payment for ecosystem services", "Natural Capital", "Environmental goods and services" all reflect the utilitarian arguments for conserving; i.e. if people see a physical (usually monetary) benefit from nature then they will conserve. However, many people are short-sighted or selfish and can equally say, well clearing that forest and building my factory on it makes me money now, so why should I care? Why anyone cares about anything is a reflection on the things they like and their beliefs.</div>
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Here lies the issue therefore, if very few people in Kenya like the sea and have little connection with it, then very few will be willing to conserve it and hence very little action or mitigation will be taken on its behalf. And that, of course, is exactly what we see. Kenya does make money from its marine Natural Capital, but this doesn't change behaviours and probably won't until the money flow is seriously effected. Politicians support oil exploration, new port developments, intensive fishing practises with no impact mitigation legislation or action, business people dump their waste near shore and local people exploit marine life with no thought for tomorrow. They just don't care. </div>
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I've realised that my biggest potential impact for conservation here in Kenya is to get people to care. Its not about the data I collect or the papers I write alone, its also about the people here on the ground and what they think. I am not going to quit the PhD or stop doing the fieldwork I love, but I just always look for opportunities to include people and share the excitement. While Bob and his family have been here for the past couple of months they also understood this issue and worked on some rock-pooling events to introduce all the staff at A Rocha and the kids from the local school to the marine world. Whenever I can I take volunteers out on the boat while I'm doing surveys. Its small stuff, but its hearts and minds, one person at a time. And besides, it can be enormous fun and so rewarding when your friend finds their first starfish or swims for the first time.</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPS1F84khf-l9osmI0q7s1uHebhPLho5lwNVqmpY-EbcIlfVOKvbIDsA5mNlnW81tdu7dbgxBPTacuooxq5uD7AjSrXfXHzrhIIrXLJktGUnpzMNyRGA9WPNl2quYJCFQV-eRTEljU5G1p/s1600/DSCN0673.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPS1F84khf-l9osmI0q7s1uHebhPLho5lwNVqmpY-EbcIlfVOKvbIDsA5mNlnW81tdu7dbgxBPTacuooxq5uD7AjSrXfXHzrhIIrXLJktGUnpzMNyRGA9WPNl2quYJCFQV-eRTEljU5G1p/s320/DSCN0673.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Matthias with a starfish</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvDgMqwfANIPzlZRKhyphenhyphenO9Z6i-q7Oo6_-UyQ2fAXGVLDBlZkVvEDZZ6a-zWi1Gtbf6lTCctUQQDOukijgUQVq96-DCHVZpv3DaWOLvjVJaZ4-rNYloyK4dhihxM-K1QKjK7fvqMK6FhVenr/s1600/DSCN1200.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvDgMqwfANIPzlZRKhyphenhyphenO9Z6i-q7Oo6_-UyQ2fAXGVLDBlZkVvEDZZ6a-zWi1Gtbf6lTCctUQQDOukijgUQVq96-DCHVZpv3DaWOLvjVJaZ4-rNYloyK4dhihxM-K1QKjK7fvqMK6FhVenr/s320/DSCN1200.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On a sand bar with Simon about 1km from shore</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDLxEzERanLcEQLsjqnHzGH6_31SQz_KbwauFT_VNkkBG4ZmNuUmf0Zri8BoWejZ2rzOWVV4Y3_qnDuIXuNJwxkkJKvRWuZy22stGV18tnYBJhA-Ctl1Wme_iCWgcqEapuwsFfeTKFlqlw/s1600/DSCN1375.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDLxEzERanLcEQLsjqnHzGH6_31SQz_KbwauFT_VNkkBG4ZmNuUmf0Zri8BoWejZ2rzOWVV4Y3_qnDuIXuNJwxkkJKvRWuZy22stGV18tnYBJhA-Ctl1Wme_iCWgcqEapuwsFfeTKFlqlw/s320/DSCN1375.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Josephat with dive gear after a survey (best photo ever :-p)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd4PAxP7Wh05muBegSupPRnFFHuRVaVOAJo8qFx6Cq6Eb8Ve2ttgoNpUQLu1KbZTnKzhy8ZH6MHvV3MHcvUBZfXJNV_fPxSLI-8tycsMugw6_WKwljnOOUp90xPEagw81uzMFM6de5Aigl/s1600/DSCN1257.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd4PAxP7Wh05muBegSupPRnFFHuRVaVOAJo8qFx6Cq6Eb8Ve2ttgoNpUQLu1KbZTnKzhy8ZH6MHvV3MHcvUBZfXJNV_fPxSLI-8tycsMugw6_WKwljnOOUp90xPEagw81uzMFM6de5Aigl/s320/DSCN1257.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The magic of the ocean</td></tr>
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<br />Benjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6954727457042956760.post-16726739616265766082012-12-05T09:13:00.000-08:002012-12-05T09:13:38.898-08:00Postcard Africa<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<span style="text-align: start;">Flicking back through older posts I realise I have never done a post dedicated purely to African wildlife in all its forms. Of course this is one of the main things that is triggered in one's mind at the mention of the continent and for this blog I want to unashamedly brag about some of the cool stuff I've seen this past week. If you are sitting in the Northern hemisphere feeling cold and looking out on grey, I'm sorry for you, but if you willing, I will let you on a little African sunshine drenched wilderness. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">This past week I have been travelling around Kenya's "South Coast" which means everywhere south of Mombasa. Its an area I know hardly anything about and have only visited once before and I am here with my neighbour Dawn and a guy from her church called Jeremiah. There's no rational explanation for the trip or the accompaniment other than it was worth coming and to see a new place. One area we visited is known as the Shimba Hills which rise up just inland up to 450m above sea level. Compared to the sticky hot coast they are that tiny bit cooler and fresher which is an amazing release and because they force all that hot sticky air up they have the highest rainfall on the Kenyan Coast giving them a thick blanket of forest which is almost like a rainforest. It also the best place on the coast to have a bit of the safari experience, with herds of elephant, buffalo, impala and even a few giraffe knocking about. The dramatic hills, with a patchwork of thick forest and savannah, look over towards the sparkling sea and Tanzania in the distance. At the moment with all the rain we have been getting, it is like a green jewel floating on misty clouds from below. Apologies for the soppy metaphors, in most places people are just exaggerating and trying to talk up their experience with these boring phrases, but this was the real deal. It really really was breath takingely beautiful. </span></div>
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<span style="text-align: start;">Below are some photos of animals I saw with the Kenyan safari guide code-name. They use these names to tell one another where animals are to show their guests, but are a little bit too cool for school to call them by their real names. </span> </div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJKVxnSwdu0t9sfvL8cjLt49jbmSukOv9vm0O8rSMdc-7Ox3R-sa2Lf_eKstIp-wfjmB3qFqd3u4i4yJ-ILcTBLqcL-CUBHaCGccfljK5AuddnvzLwIUQ3tKYtSNiVSxiyuBE9Fz0P3wpU/s1600/IMG_1994.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJKVxnSwdu0t9sfvL8cjLt49jbmSukOv9vm0O8rSMdc-7Ox3R-sa2Lf_eKstIp-wfjmB3qFqd3u4i4yJ-ILcTBLqcL-CUBHaCGccfljK5AuddnvzLwIUQ3tKYtSNiVSxiyuBE9Fz0P3wpU/s320/IMG_1994.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tortoise no. 1</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB24hJDzNshkfUxI5eeO55O7tkGVHXrJSTAUMfRr4c6TIH65kt5BoJnbLOPoGMJ_Nl7YM9LPmUEIczIIpxBTDSk8dHy7fZ0IcfZSI3PXHKXKDuDXQoOmKaV0FAKLcHvrV-OtjHEYOBQ-V8/s1600/IMG_2026.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB24hJDzNshkfUxI5eeO55O7tkGVHXrJSTAUMfRr4c6TIH65kt5BoJnbLOPoGMJ_Nl7YM9LPmUEIczIIpxBTDSk8dHy7fZ0IcfZSI3PXHKXKDuDXQoOmKaV0FAKLcHvrV-OtjHEYOBQ-V8/s320/IMG_2026.JPG" width="252" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Elephant - Maskio (ears)</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMLWAFqLyk7ga1kcH74HkXO_inlDYFYnGPOJvaVFd5KWN6UHqbLKP9dpsg_lxtmb1VFD9td1A2cDGoqwZ5muBBfLijkt94UzD3mhZuSP17KnPyoLTkPsN3GatE79nN7ZDrsixp3svWE4OH/s1600/IMG_2045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="275" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMLWAFqLyk7ga1kcH74HkXO_inlDYFYnGPOJvaVFd5KWN6UHqbLKP9dpsg_lxtmb1VFD9td1A2cDGoqwZ5muBBfLijkt94UzD3mhZuSP17KnPyoLTkPsN3GatE79nN7ZDrsixp3svWE4OH/s320/IMG_2045.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Giraffe - Shingo mrefu (long neck)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption">Warthog - Nairobi express</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrZLCMty-lkVZumHvicRVwHZ-TLyfRcipoBVXUVc1m230PajWE7xZMWmjtwAbmcBfEoAhGavWUVRERM8K-XSBysuaWMg2sJumQjHA3kZ2ERIC0muf4O5wyyx-_x3tXaKHmuny4l3s1DqPT/s1600/IMG_2067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrZLCMty-lkVZumHvicRVwHZ-TLyfRcipoBVXUVc1m230PajWE7xZMWmjtwAbmcBfEoAhGavWUVRERM8K-XSBysuaWMg2sJumQjHA3kZ2ERIC0muf4O5wyyx-_x3tXaKHmuny4l3s1DqPT/s320/IMG_2067.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pygmy Kingfisher</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglAl0hnyVyNncuu5oAtxh6S0oCpwYAsi_DTWDkFdwBLhBGPPC88Upfn_6Lj0_Eg-4lgCiug5GF4kDOuLe2Bzv2i8JXNJ6dOu8yz3ZUXCiFrfL9G5RkatiA2SMCw9-MULIUYA61bF1f7D9Y/s1600/P1000814.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglAl0hnyVyNncuu5oAtxh6S0oCpwYAsi_DTWDkFdwBLhBGPPC88Upfn_6Lj0_Eg-4lgCiug5GF4kDOuLe2Bzv2i8JXNJ6dOu8yz3ZUXCiFrfL9G5RkatiA2SMCw9-MULIUYA61bF1f7D9Y/s320/P1000814.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Buffalo - Ng'ombe (cows)</td></tr>
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After the game drive we wanted to do a hike down to a place called Shedrick Falls, which was a 2km hike through the jungle to a stunning waterfall. It was a really perfect little walk except for the fact that we had to go with a KWS guard in case the elephants mauled us, and seeing as he only wanted to go once a day, all the other people in the park came at the same time. This basically meant that there was a group of 15 Wazungu all trooping through the jungle as a pack, and as about 8 of them were a group of friends from South London all gossiping and making noise, it ensured we saw absolutely no wildlife on the way down. However it was quite satisfying watching them sweat on the way back up, puffing and wheezing, with red necks and drenched shirts. You have to spend time with Mother Africa before you can survive her! At the waterfall itself Jeremiah and I stood under the tumbling water and embraced the elements.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kenyan Health and Safety</td></tr>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEbwcdB0I96aPcYK7FpKq6AFub2BwLcASYBKwPC3dxl_JSsHcGkNlT0fvSx7HR-OXO7XToL2rcsum2uSM5nq3alnw1odME75pR97xFZcPHtjUXyRNrVVY-ERtvLkIPZJ7FbiCKh1DA9zrg/s1600/IMG_2074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEbwcdB0I96aPcYK7FpKq6AFub2BwLcASYBKwPC3dxl_JSsHcGkNlT0fvSx7HR-OXO7XToL2rcsum2uSM5nq3alnw1odME75pR97xFZcPHtjUXyRNrVVY-ERtvLkIPZJ7FbiCKh1DA9zrg/s320/IMG_2074.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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The other place we visited was (of course) a marine park. All three of us loooooove snorkelling (which is about the only major thing we have in common), so a trip to Kisite marine national park was a must. The park is slightly off-shore with most of the coral areas surrounding a small uninhabited island about 5 miles off shore near the Tanzanian border. We stayed there for 3 days and took the 1 hour boat ride out to the island twice. It has the best coral reef in the whole of Kenya by a long way and it was just stunning to behold. On the second day I felt like I had finally seen the reef I had always dreamed off complete with shelves of table <i>Acropora </i>stacked on top of one another and super abundance and size of fish patrolling around. On the second day I saw a couple of fish that had been on my wanted list for some time, namely the Palette surgeonfish, which is what Dory from "Finding Nemo" was based on and the Regal Angelfish, the most beautiful of this already very beautiful fish group. I also saw a turtle and a juvenile Oriental sweetlips with its 60s lava lamp patterns, which is a species my fish book and the internet says is not supposed to be in East Africa, but I have found it 3 times now! The colour and vibrancy of the life on the reef was outstanding. I could have stayed there forever and not got bored. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Blue-line snapper</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCXqE_wEMtFJxP2Q_cpVQz0giVoJfbtW_UQcoIyf381I3P1H3ToiIkyQP58wPmzYPThNzSvMiWDZH1KU8Nz3sPH13lLhJA2FZRMnN4A3Zv6c0zZChrXbY9xoEjhhVSNnu29tg3rCDZkEPj/s1600/Haemulidae+-+(Plectorhinchus+vittatus)+Oriental+sweetlips+(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCXqE_wEMtFJxP2Q_cpVQz0giVoJfbtW_UQcoIyf381I3P1H3ToiIkyQP58wPmzYPThNzSvMiWDZH1KU8Nz3sPH13lLhJA2FZRMnN4A3Zv6c0zZChrXbY9xoEjhhVSNnu29tg3rCDZkEPj/s320/Haemulidae+-+(Plectorhinchus+vittatus)+Oriental+sweetlips+(1).JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Juvenile Oriental Sweetlips</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_l4x1Hg4OVZzA-PkuzQRl-jMOCgKfF4cWs_YZbenLnQBojYWaRYge8tbVJnhkI_5BHX5IljMTHvngb4zViu_vA8zT47CbTLbMJlmUOFxya8G0BkIP8-4v_LrDCzB1gCYixBBOuyd9KLsj/s1600/P1000601.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_l4x1Hg4OVZzA-PkuzQRl-jMOCgKfF4cWs_YZbenLnQBojYWaRYge8tbVJnhkI_5BHX5IljMTHvngb4zViu_vA8zT47CbTLbMJlmUOFxya8G0BkIP8-4v_LrDCzB1gCYixBBOuyd9KLsj/s320/P1000601.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Palette Surgeonfish (Dory)</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Smooth Grouper</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Regal Angelfish</td></tr>
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Benjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6954727457042956760.post-75632661762688158902012-11-13T21:18:00.001-08:002012-11-13T21:18:36.323-08:00Oh AfricaThere's something about this country that just gets my writing juices going. I've been in UK for a month and while I had a great time there was nothing that grabbed me to sit and write it down. Three days back in Kenya and I already need to write the tales and things I've seen.<br />
Yesterday I set off from Nairobi on the day bus down to Watamu. It has been raining a lot here in the past month and the bush is the greenest I've ever seen it. All the way through Ukambani was like a shamrock, which I've never seen before (see the post from Ukambani in Nov 2011). At one point looking down flowing creek, shaded by a tunnel of flowering trees with yellow weavers darting between the branches I thought I'd arrived in the Garden of Eden, before a strong bump reminded me that I was still on the Mombasa highway.<br />
We were making great time and had Tudor Creek near Mombasa in our sights by 3:30 and then ... Jam! Lorries and buses and cars backed up as far as the eye could see and not even creeping forward. Complete standstill. Our bus stood still in the hot humid coastal air and the temperature started to rise and you know its hot when the Africans start sweating, shifting and fanning one another. In particular there was one mama sitting opposite me, who actually inspired this blog post, who started stripping off. Before my eyes the shirt was unbuttoned and the bra pulled off in sweaty contempt. However this wasn't enough for this aggravated matriach, she stood threateningly with her breasts bare and pointed at the bus conductor, "Weh! When I bought my ticket in Busia they told me I would be in Malindi by 3pm, what is the time now and where are we? I will never travel with Modern Coast again!" The poor conductor tried to convince her it was the jam and there was nothing Modern Coast or their associates could do, but she was not convinced. She sat glowering, flapping her open shirt wings like threatened bird trying to frighten predators away.<br />
So next time you are on the bus or the tube, just think what you are missing. :-)Benjohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06015715073163602604noreply@blogger.com1