Frolic at the Falls
The Sheldrick Falls. Photo/RUPI MANGAT
“It’s a two-kilometre trek from here to Sheldrick Falls,” says Azana Omari, the naturalist at Shimba Hills Lodge. From high on the escarpment overlooking the canopy of tropical rainforest, the track downhill doesn’t look too difficult.
In the far distance, the Indian Ocean’s magnetic blue lines the horizon and further, the faint outline of Tanzania’s Usambara Mountains. An old male giraffe, dark with age, stands in the midst of the savannah sprawl as a light rain falls, forcing us to take refuge under the observation hut until it subsides.
A lone bull elephant browses in the forest as we silently file past it and cross a rickety bridge over a crystal clear stream coursing through the forest. The humid coastal air and the sun makes it a hot walk and, feeling like a dying duck, I’m beginning to wonder how far two kilometres can possibly be when the sound of crashing water reaches the ear.
It’s a magical sound and I can imagine how David Sheldrick, the first game warden of Tsavo East National Park (1948-1976) must have felt more than half a century ago, when he chanced upon the falls. Until then, according to literature, not even the locals knew of its existence. With a final spurt of energy, the motley group plunge into the natural pool at the bottom of the 82-foot waterfall.
“This is River Mkulumudzi, which means ‘big village’ in the Digo language,” Omari tells us. The river empties way down at the village on the seashore called Msambweni, providing the people with precious fresh water to drink. Done with the falls, we look out for the endemic Sable antelopes of Shimba hills, but have to contend with the ones on the park gates – the steel ones.
“Shimba is the corruption of the Digo word ‘Shambi’,” Omari explains. “’Shambi’ means sable in our language.” Found in very few places in East Africa, the handsome sable with its sharp, pointed backward curved horns is the last of the herd left in Shimba with a population of about 500 to 600 and well on its way to extinction – unless by some miracle we can extend its home range.
“Shimba Hills National Reserve was gazetted in 1968 because of the Sable antelope,” explains our guide. “It measures 192 square kilometres in area.” Refreshed by our frolic in the water from the falls and the four-kilometre walk, lunch at the only tree hotel at the coast never tasted better.
The resident African fish eagle perches on the indigenous trees of the forest by the waterhole and a lone monitor lizard swims quietly under its gaze. We catch glimpses of grey bodies of elephants walking through the thick forest and a magnificent old bull with beautiful tusks browses by as we enjoy our lunch.
The sun makes its way west and we follow it for a sundowner in Elephant Valley. A burst of white jasmine fills the forest with its fragrance. High on the tallest mahogany tree, a pair of crowned eagles sits in the nest. These birds are good indicators of the state of the old forests. “My father was born here,” says Omari as we enjoy our cocktails watching the sun go down. “They had to move out when the land was gazetted. But my grandfather is buried here as are many other Digo people.
Finally with darkness enveloping us, we head back to the lodge to continue with our cocktails in the bush bar set high in the forest glade on wooden stilts. Climbing the stairs to the highest platform on the canopy of the forest for an eagle’s eye-view, a pair of russet coloured squirrels chases each other around the trees. Researchers are just beginning to study the canopies of the old forests and coming out with new discoveries.
Many of the coastal forests have survived because of the Mijikenda people who, when forced to flee the Galla from the horn of Africa in the 9th century, took refuge in them. Many are today gazetted due to their rich harness of species.
We stop at the Shimba Hills Forest Guide’s office to see a model kaya and not far from Indian Ocean Beach Resort, I walk o the edge of the fresh water estuary to see a myriad of water birds and local kids having a whale of a time bathing in the fresh water flowing into the sea. Sitting on the edge is another sacred forest, Kaya Tiwi and Kongo mosque of many centuries guarded by the wizened old baobabs.
