Last night I lay on the ground staring up at the sky, a speck of dust stuck to another speck of dust by mere static hold. Above me, stars twinkled in ever shifting shapes and patterns. When I lay on my back I saw trees of the savannah, kitchenware, animals, and far away homes.
I have never felt so small and so large as I do here.
Yesterday we went with a researcher to find wild dogs. We drove with a beeping tracker, attuned to a collar around one individual's neck. We broke through brush, surprising families of elephants, grazing giraffes, and one fearful hyena. The area was sandy with acacia tree Islands, and we moved through the bush often ducking to avoid being snagged by the thorns.
And then we saw them. And I have never felt so moved, nor so intrusive as I did then.
They communicated like humans, this is the best way I can describe it, though words fail me even now. Surprised by our entrance, members of the pack that had been dozing in the tall grass, stood up, nosed each other, alerted those behind them, comforted the puppies. We sat for what could have been twenty minutes or an hour, I lost track of all time. When the vehicles moved, belching gray clouds of smoke, the puppies whimpered in fear. I watched as multiple older members of the pack would go to surround a puppy, and like a conference of comforting friends, lean down to touch their noses to his. It's okay, they seemed to say, it's okay.
They communicated constantly. The dogs would touch their noses to each other, lay down to pant and doze in the sunlight, and then rise to gently communicate through licks and snuffs and the occasional whimpered call. As smart if not smarter than we, they moved around each other, a pack, family, and community. When we left, they did too, irritated by the vehicle's presence. They had been pressed enough to move on.
Afterwards, the landscape opened itself to me in a way it had not before. At Mpala, we are visitors. I had not realized this before, that the ground I sit on here belongs not to me but to the wild creatures who live upon it.
This is a wonderful place. Wonder full, in that I am constantly in awe, walking around eyes wide with astonishment and joy. But it is also wonder full in the questioning sense. "I wonder why" this and that and nobody, it appears, is afraid to ask. We are a questioning bunch, and everywhere we go we ask "why?" "why?" "why?". The professors, ranchers, researchers, and locals are more than happy to answer to the best of their abilities.
Most of the researchers here are Kenyan, and we have been lucky enough to listen to lectures on most of their research. Today, we had a presentation on One Health, and the need for interdisciplinary action regarding climate change and disease prevention. I am beginning to feel that my background is an asset, rather than a disadvantage.
And this place is full of art. How could it not be? We are in the middle of the natural world, surrounded by color, sound, and sun. I am constantly curious. I am shedding a skin to reveal a self unblemished by world and wear, a soul both old and entirely new.