Loving Kindness
We can judge the heart of a man by his treatment of animals.
— Immanuel Kant
“Come see our orphans, I’ll take you over first thing in the morning.” said Robert, my Samburu guide. Before the sun was up, we were bouncing down the dirt track in the land cruiser towards the stables at Sarara Camp, in Northern Kenya. Feeding animals at daybreak is a ritual I enjoy. As I child I dreamed of becoming a farmer. I lived that dream for several years when my children were young. I loved the fresh feel of the morning chill on my skin when I left the house, the short trek from house to barn, the resistance of the barn door as it scraped across the uneven cement floor announcing my arrival followed by the shuffle of bodies heaving to their feet, hens flapping and cackling, welcoming nickers from the horses and baas from the sheep and goats. I greeted each of the animals in turn, patting noses as I dumped hay, scooped oats, and filled water buckets. The routine calmed me, prepared me for my day like a morning meditation. That magical time when the veil of night lifts and reveals the new day feels sacred to me. The sun rises—no matter what happened yesterday or what is coming tomorrow. Around the world farmers participate in this ritual. The landscape may look different, the climate may feel different, but the bond between humans and domestic animals is universal.
When we opened the gate to the open-air barnyard at Sarara a unique group of animals leaned out eagerly to greet us. The familiar faces of horses and goats lined up at their stable doors along with wild friends—three reticulated giraffes, three Grevy zebras, and two tiny kudu calves.
Lekupanai, the Samburu caretaker of this diverse herd, handed me a large milk bottle. We got to work feeding the most demanding residents first. I was in heaven.
With no English between us Lekupanai nodded at the next stall and I followed him into the shadows where the tiny kudu calves zealously latched onto their milk bottles.
When we were finished, I pointed to my camera and gave Lekupanai my “can I take your picture?” look. He nodded shyly; I took a couple of quick shots hoping to capture the special connection I felt between this man and the animals.
Robert also took some photos with my phone that show my delight. I even snuck in a quick giraffe kiss. It was a rare opportunity to be so close to animals I usually only see in the wild.
The Grevy zebras, typically shy and skittish, stuck out their noses for a pat. One of my favourite pictures of them reminds me of a rambunctious friend photo bombing a selfie shot.
When all the animals were fed, Lekupanai opened the barnyard gate. The diverse crowd made a hilarious picture as they headed out to the open to graze for the day.
Two grown giraffes waited outside the fence. Rescued and cared for as orphans (one lost an ear to a predator), this pair now roam freely in the wilderness around the camp.
They return every morning to greet Lekupanai, showering him with affection, wrapping their necks around him in a giraffe hug, dwarfing him while leaning in for touch.
Lekupanai’s innate kindness, love of animals, and ease of being stayed with me.
This month I learned that thanks to the Sarara Foundation’s Nomadic Healthcare Program, Lekupanai’s son had life changing cleft palate surgery in July. The story is told in a short video I guarantee will warm your heart. Lekupanai’s love and gentleness as a father is so evident as he travels with his son from their rural home to the hospital. The expression on his face when they return from their odyssey radiates pure joy. It feels particularly gratifying that the love and kindness Lekupanai gives so freely to others was reciprocated to nourish him and his family.
In the book we co-authored, The Light Within—Two Artists One Vision, Janice Friis wrote a poem about Lekupanai based on his portrait. Although she never met him, I believe she captured his essence in this excerpt from her poem.
Mwenda
I want to name this man Mwenda or One who Loves.
He has seen much in his familiar nomadic days ways
placidly gliding as the giraffe, curious, head held high
his customs as divergent as his beautifully richly textured mosaic land
of high mountain ranges & gently rolling hills,
open savannah plains to lush valleys connected and parted
by a brown river that dries so you’d never know it was there;
lest we forget, this man in the photo has found his calling, his sense of need, without greed:
his is a private personal tendency that tends to tenderness
attending a declining group of mega-herbivores,
our largest pollinators in the world yet like the bee could become extinct —
why, who, would want to harm these wobbly leggy ruminants?
They are the canaries in the mine humming in giraffe-speak
reminding us how poachers mostly, people without ethics
want the meat, the glorious hides, the tassel of tail hairs, the bone marrow;
yet the habitat too is vulnerable fragmented from wars, roads, mining, drilling —
it’s hard to fathom these ways of life in this century —
take the time to look and understand this picture is a portrait of his people’s way
as sweet as Acacia flowers, respectful courageous responsible.
Wildlife conservation and rehabilitation cannot succeed without the involvement of the communities like the Samburu and Maasai that co-exist with the animals. The Sarara Foundation, Save Giraffes Now, and The Big Life Foundation are examples of organizations that collaborate with local indigenous people to create a healthy, resilient, and prosperous landscape in which people and wildlife can thrive into the future.
Please consider supporting these organizations by donating or by purchasing an item from my store, where a percentage of every sale goes to support their efforts.
