Name ID 499
Huxley, Juliette Wild Lives of Africa
Extract Date: 1960
I was sorry not to see any elephant or Rhino on this trip. The rhinos are being killed by the Masai at an alarming rate, always, they say, in self-defence. Phersen reported the year's total of killed Rhino - found minus horns by his scouts - at thirty-six. This year there are six or eight pairs left in the crater. Next year there may be fewer.
At Arusha we were met by the new Director of National Parks in Tanganyika, John Owen, our guide all the time we were in Tanganyika.
Arusha itself with its cosy individual character, is unlike any other town I have seen in Africa. It was built by the Germans when they owned the province; they also built the road leading out of town, on which we met many Masai marching proudly and arrogantly with an accomplished feline grace.
To begin with, John Owen took us up to the Ngordoto Crater, a very recently created National Park, only an hourís drive from Arusha.
... [after a visit to Lake Manyara]
The Land-Rover lurched and plunged on the broken track, roared its way through torrents whose rush seems to have doubled in noise and intensity. I began to wonder how I should like to spend a night here with a breakdown, in this forest which now assumed a sombre and malevolent power.
We emerged after what seemed like an eternity, and with some relief returned to our perch on the rim; [the brand new Hotel Manyara] to a bath of kipper smelling water, a drink at the smart bar and a tranquil evening by the welcome fire. The young warden, Max Morgan Davies, joined us for dinner. ..
... [at Ngorongoro crater] Mr Phersen the district officer was putting us up.
... [to Seronera] We drove on to the wardenís house. Mrs. Harver received us, and took us straight to the guest-house for a welcome bath.
... In the afternoon, the Chairman of the Tanganyika National Parks, Mr. Hunter, took us up in his small plane and flew us right over the Serengeti Plain.
... [Next stop Dar-es-Salaam.] The pilot of the small charter plane accommodatingly took us right over the splendid grey ash cone of Ol Doinyo Lengai, the Masaiís Mountain of the Gods, a still sub-active volcano, puffing out clouds of sulphuric gases. A minute later we looked down into its neighbour the Embegi volcano, now extinct, its forested crater containing a lake. Clouds of flamingos were whirling like pink snow below us, shimmering against the blue water. The sides were very steep, their ravines thick with ancient forests. Such an intimate view of this farouche lonely giant could never have been achieved in any other way.