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IN THIS ISSUE

• Zvonko Springer continues his account of a Kenyan safari
• Geoff Goodship writes about his post-accident medical care
• We get letters from Carol Hansen, Freddie Goodship, and Jean Sterling
• The editor describes a recent enlightenment
• Pat Moore forwards a story about formal night wear
• Dick Monaghan, Kate Brookfield, Bill Murphy, and Tom Williamson suggest sites

Zvonko Springer recalls their continuing exploration of the craters on their

FIRST KENYAN SAFARI

The car returned to the place where we saw the lions and nearly drove over a pride of four lionesses with four cubs, each of slightly different ages. Some cubs hid in the bush but the lionesses did not move, keeping to the shade of their resting place. After enough photos were taken, the driver returned to the thicket to meet another Landrover driver and exchanged information of observations made. Our driver told us that our seeing a pride of 22 lions had been something like "hunter´s luck". There are days where one cannot find any of the lions, even after hours of searching.

It was getting hotter during the ride along the outer circuit, over the ruined farmland and along the Munge River, watching numerous zebras and gnus, etc. We climbed the Engitate Hill to have another view, but it became too hot and dry for the animals, and us too, so we returned to the bank of the Munge River, looking for a shadowy place. It was 12:30 when the driver found a place with low grass under a large tree, where he handed out the picnic lunch. It was time to doze for a while after everybody´s needs had been satisfied.

At 2:00 o´clock everybody got into the car to continue the ride back and forth through high grass and around thick bushes without leaving any trace of our passage. This ride was to be remembered as miraculous.

Slowly we approached the inner circuit, we came upon a pair of rhinos - a mother and her almost- grown-up son. We got within about 30m and took photos, but the animals did not move because the heat was overwhelming. At last our driver turned towards the lake to show us the crater flamingos, which were a bit bigger than the lesser flamingos we had seen at Nakuru and Magadi Lakes. The air was hot and dry so large herds of zebras, gazelles and gnus did not move, except for few giraffes or warthogs running away from our moving car. We saw a larger group of waterbucks close up when crossing the Seneto Stream, but after that the circuit closed as we reached the Lerai Forest.

All the passengers, the three of us and an English lady who joined us instead of the Sachses, were exhausted. Our driver asked if we would like to return to the lodge, and we all agreed to his proposal. The road out of the crater was mostly cut into the rock face, and was even steeper than the morning descent. The four-wheel drive car made it in first gear all the way up, and it was almost impossible to take photos while standing and looking through the opening in the car roof. Ljiljana was interested in the thick forest flora, the interwoven lianas, fantastic ferns, and moss hanging from branches. After we got out of the crater we had some spare time to do whatever we liked.

Ljiljana went around collecting plant shoots she wanted to transplant to her garden at Bamburi; I checked why the car was making such a strange noise the day before and found that a spring shock absorber had got loose. A bolt had broken and the spring made a loud clang when the wheel hit a pothole. I could not get any help in the lodge garage, but they told me of a place where I could ask for help on our way to Manyara the next day. After that we washed and cleaned the car, grateful for its dependability despite its many problems.

After a good dinner, the clear fresh air, fatigue and excitement, we were happy with our safari so far. There was a full moon that night and the Pony glistened in the dark in front of our dwelling. I wondered if this would be the peak of our adventure.

On Saturday, September 4, we left Crater Lodge at 9:20, driving slowly and avoiding potholes as much as possible. The view into the crater was partly restricted due to morning fog. At first the road lead downward through thick forest until we came to the cultivated flat lands. In some fields it was corn harvest time, and on others, cattle were grazing in great numbers.

I had been told to look for the farm of Mr. Neuuby, who had come from South Africa, and found it easily. We were greeted by Mrs. Neuuby and their four children, and she promised to send their mechanic as soon he came for lunch. In no time an Indian came in and took the car to the workshop. It took that pleasant man a good hour or so to make a temporary repair that should hold until Arusha, where I would go to the VW service in any case. With hearty thanks to the farm owner and the mechanic, we continued our journey towards Manyara.

The macadam road turned into a murram, where we got a lot of dust when overtaking slower vehicles on the hills. After one such hill, we got to the top of a curve with a lookout from where we could see the whole of Lake Manyara. Shortly after, we saw a sign pointing left to the Hotel Lake Manyara, where we stay for only one night. The hotel stood at the rim of a rock face some 200m high, and from our room we got a splendid view over the whole lake stretching almost below.

We were in time for lunch after this short ride of only 55km so we went to the restaurant first. We liked the meal and I ate too much, probably because I was no longer worried about the car. We went to the pool to cool down and relax for a while. The pool was 10m from the rock ledge and we could see up and down the Rift Valley as far as the horizon.

We hired a VW-Kombi car for three of us and left the hotel at 1:15 to visit the Manyara North Park, which stretched along the western shore of the lake. The park was 45km long and was squeezed between the escarpment and the lakeshore. From the hotel a steep road lead to the park entrance, where we visited a small museum. In Tanganyika (later Tanzania) there were many small museums sponsored by visitors from the UK and USA as "Friends of animals".

Throughout the park we had to cross several streams with names like Mto wa Simba (lion), wa Kirurum, Mkindu, Mchanga (earth), Msasa, Chem Chem, Ndala (sand), Bagayo, Endebash, Arai, and Maji va Moto (warm spring). They sprung out of the foot of the escarpment and the park flora was rich with several large trees in a dense forest. There were several places where visitors could sit to watch the animals, or have a picnic at a few places with tables and benches. Imagine this in the middle of the wilderness!

To be continued.

Geoff Goodship describes the care he received after his accident:

OBAMA AND HEALTH CARE

Watching President Obama´s Health Care debate causes me to reflect on my recent 56-day stay in the Victoria General Hospital. How different our two countries are! During Obama´s session I heard senators claim America has the best health care system in the world. While recovering from what could have been a fatal fall, I received nothing short of excellent care, so I decided to document my reasons for this conclusion.

At 2:00 a.m. on Dec 25th I got up to use the bathroom. I fell head first down five stairs before crashing into a wall. It´s a good thing the blow knocked me out for my feet came over my head and my body proceed to slide, bump bump, to the bottom of 18 more stairs. An ambulance ride took me to the nearest hospital in Duncan and after some stabilization, another took me to Victoria.

The first days were a blur of meds, tubes, and silhouettes above me. The surgery to my neck involved three separate MRIs and several X- rays. My right leg and right arm felt paralyzed. It soon became apparent that I could not swallow food, so a hose up the nose provided nourishment. A catheter, a feeding tube in my nose, and pain killers provided relative comfort. There were certainly times I wanted "out". I spent 13 days on the sixth floor of the recovery wing. A cervical collar was hot and uncomfortable. After 10-12 days, the fingers of my right hand began to twitch with involuntary movement.

Following an examination of my right arm and leg, I was moved to the rehab ward, a mental lift for sure. Within a day I had programs set up for physiotherapy and occupational therapy; a speech therapist arranged for a video of my inability to swallow; and a dietician visited me to add her advice. A house doctor visited my bedside most days. For some reason I don´t understand, I had a 35- minute echocardiogram of my heart. Learning to stand took a few more days and was followed by short shaky steps. The hose up my nose was replaced with a gastric tube directly into my stomach, which was much more comfortable than being fed through the nose. At times the therapies, nurses and doctors seemed relentless. Day by day I could feel small measures of progress and less pain.

After 50 days my ability to swallow returned and six days later I was released with a "going-home" follow-up plan.

Eleven days at home now and I work on that plan every day. My motivation comes from those dedicated professionals who led me to the recovery starting line. My medical records have all been sent electronically to my family doctor and the physio department at our local hospital. I have physio and doctors´ appointments in the coming week. I walk a few more steps each day and my shoulder improves slowly. What more could l ask?

I asked an American doctor friend what that level of care might cost in the U.S. "About 10 to 15 grand a day," he replied. No bills from hospital or doctors will be arriving; no insurance claims either. My many American friends might not find this easy to believe but that´s how it works here. I wouldn´t trade it, even for that senator´s plan.

CORRESPONDENCE

Freddie Goodship writes: Geoff has been home for eight days now and every day we see small signs of improvement. We have been walking around our crescent with me holding his hand (for steadiness, I hope). Today he did it alone and even though he felt tired toward the end of the block, he made it. He is also trying to use his right hand by typing at the computer (slow going but he manages it). The shoulder is the weakest part of his body. However, every day he is lifting the arm higher so in time we hope it will be back to normal. The muscles around the shoulder and upper back have become quite wasted and it will take time to rebuild them. He does his physio exercises faithfully. Geoff is sleeping better at home and also is eating regular meals without any choking or coughing problems. So, all in all, the situation is looking better all the time. Thank you all for your interest and caring.

In reply to an article by Rafe Mair in a recent Tyee, http://arunaurl.com/3ehd, Jean Sterling writes:

"...Or I would have slippery fingers, accidentally telling it to print 100 copies instead of 10 - and then I would fail to stop the damned printer."

I still find stopping the printer difficult. You have to find that little icon down on the task bar, bring it up, and then figure out what comes next. Plus I always feel a bit rushed. My middle son is an environmental engineer, and I don´t want to waste paper. The good news is that this doesn´t happen very often, which is why I don´t remember what to do and have to bumble around.

"In 1985, while doing the midnight show on CKNW, I interviewed a BC Tel guy about something called a cell phone. I couldn´t see how this would work."

The few times I have used it, it boggles my mind that the thing actually works.

"While it might be fun calling people from the loo as you were reading that day´s racing form, what about having to put up with calls you didn´t want? What was going to happen to your privacy? Early on, I was fishing with a buddy and his pocket started to ring! ´What the hell is that, Derrick? Do you mean that even with a wilderness lake, a hatch of mayflies and just the right fly on your line - a scenario that anyone with a soul want to savour - you´d let the moment be shattered....´"

People who wander around with phones stuck to their ears are missing the here and now imho. I was in a restroom a while back, and somebody in one of the stalls was having a one-sided conversation. I found myself wondering what would happen when she flushed.

"The cell phone became an infestation and an epidemic of community nuisance. The jingle had replaced the ring so that quiet little bits of earlobe nibbling over a bottle of Merlot were shattered by "Mary Had A Little Lamb" from the booth next door. Soon there was a cacophony of conflicting jingles answered by people who obviously assumed that the person on the other end was hard-of-hearing. Or you would go to the theatre and no matter how earnest the pleas from the master of ceremonies that the audience turn off their cell phones off, the high point of the performance was invariably punctuated by a kazoo screeching ´Row, Row, Row Your Boat´. I´ve found the perfect solution. I have a cell phone, but no one knows the number - not even me - so I can make a nuisance of myself without fear of retaliation."

Don´t people know that cell phones come with an off button? Cell phone rings have a way of sounding real stupid. Did you know there is a place on the internet where you can download just about any ring tone your little heart might desire? You can get your phone to ring like a dog barking - you can even download a ring that sounds like a fart. Can you imagine having your pocket suddenly emit fart sounds? Also, as the article says, people talking on cell phones always talk REALLY LOUD!

Only my oldest son knows my number, and it doesn´t matter because I almost never turn the thing on. I started with 80 minutes almost five months ago, and I still have almost all of them left. I have the phone number written down and in my contacts because I don´t know what it is. Cell phones are great for calling tow trucks and picking up people at an airport (you can bypass short-term parking).

Carol Hansen writes: My thoughts exactly! At least I can use a computer even though I can´t trouble-shoot it. My sons in-law wouldn´t even know how to turn one on ... true Luddites.

But as for the rest mentioned here: yes, we have one cell phone between us but neither of us has much occasion or know-how on how to use the darn thing. No-one knows the number either. The truth is I don´t WANT to be "contactable" 24/7.

I don´t have a clue about blackberries or iPods. I see so many devices advertised on TV but none pique my interest enough to ask those would know about them. That would be my sons and grandkids.

I never learned how to use/program the device that came before the DVD player ... can´t think of the name! VCR?

ED. NOTE: Those of us who are technically challenged are drowning in a sea of acronyms! When Jay reels off a number of these shortcuts, I reply: "Huh?" iPod? iBook? iPad? iQuit!

FROM THE EDITOR´S DESK

I often chide myself for being lazy; for having accomplished nothing during a day. But recently it dawned on me that I am doing something useful - I am looking after an 88-year-old woman and a cat, making sure they are reasonably well fed, kept tidy, and getting enough sleep. My industry, such as it is, relieves overworked staff from having to look after them, and instead of being a charge on the medical system, it collects a monthly fee, and that surely amounts to something useful.

My generation went through the great depression and the second world war, so we grew up with a strong work ethic. This is hard to reconcile with the enforced idleness of old age. Decreased energy and aching joints and grinding vertebrae make it more difficult to function as we used to.

It is not always easy to look after an octogenarian. Just getting her out of bed in the morning - and persuading her to go to bed at midnight - can be trying. As for getting her ready to go shopping or to the library - what a performance! It is sometimes difficult to drag her away from her computer games: her Scrabble, and Freecell, and Word Bubbles, and get busy editing her newsletter. As for getting her to lay down a book in which she is absorbed - forget it.

And then there´s the cat. Nobody warned me how much time and energy would go into feeding, brushing, entertaining, and cleaning up after a cat. I find his hair everywhere, along with the wool he digs out of the Chinese carpet, and of course I have to clean his litter box every day. But he makes the old lady laugh, and that´s what counts.

Maybe I don´t have to feel so guilty about being lazy.

Pat Moore forwards this one:

FORMAL NIGHTWEAR

Frequent hand washing in my job as a medical technologist and the harsh weather combined give me very dry skin.

One night as I prepared for bed, I rubbed my hands with petroleum jelly and covered them with an old pair of white gloves. As I sat in bed reading a book with my gloves on, my husband finished showering and came into the room wearing a towel.

Drying himself off, he went to the closet, selected a tie and put it on.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Well," he replied, "if you´re going to be formal, so am I."

THIS WEEK´S SUGGESTED SITES

Dick Monaghan sends the URL for a look at your next commuter option:

Kate Brookfield suggests the site for an unusual "gigaspan" photo:

and Bill Murphy sends the parent page with similar photos:

Tom Williamson forwards the URL for another TED lecture, this one of underwater marvels:

This URL was sent by a number of readers. It is for a video of a baby moose playing in a sprinkler:

Before Vancouver fades from the world stage into its usual peaceful somnolence, here are more pictures:

And here is the history of the world wrapped up in a nutshell: