Sarah Gold

3 of 9

My
answer to David’s question is, yes and no.

Yes,
it’s thrilling to be here, on the Nguruman Escarpment along the southernmost
edge of Kenya—specifically, on the 40,000-acre, relatively unknown expanse of
the Shompole Conservancy. Animals don’t congregate here in thick herds, as they
do in Masai Mara National Park, 70 miles to the northwest. Yet it’s still
possible to drive across the open veld and suddenly spot a pair of giraffes
languidly unbowing their necks above the acacia trees. Or a troupe of zebra,
their stripes shimmering in the heat like a mirage; or a trio of startled
impala doing grand jetés over the high desert grass.

But the
proximity to Africa’s fauna isn’t what interests me most about Shompole.
Rather, it’s the close, ubiquitous presence of the Masai—those other,
deep-rooted inhabitants of the Rift Valley, whose culture is often co-opted by,
but not especially synergic with, the safari tourism industry.

Redefining the Luxury Safari Lodge

My
answer to David’s question is, yes and no.

Yes,
it’s thrilling to be here, on the Nguruman Escarpment along the southernmost
edge of Kenya—specifically, on the 40,000-acre, relatively unknown expanse of
the Shompole Conservancy. Animals don’t congregate here in thick herds, as they
do in Masai Mara National Park, 70 miles to the northwest. Yet it’s still
possible to drive across the open veld and suddenly spot a pair of giraffes
languidly unbowing their necks above the acacia trees. Or a troupe of zebra,
their stripes shimmering in the heat like a mirage; or a trio of startled
impala doing grand jetés over the high desert grass.

But the
proximity to Africa’s fauna isn’t what interests me most about Shompole.
Rather, it’s the close, ubiquitous presence of the Masai—those other,
deep-rooted inhabitants of the Rift Valley, whose culture is often co-opted by,
but not especially synergic with, the safari tourism industry.

Sarah Gold

Redefining the Luxury Safari Lodge

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