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IN THIS ISSUE

• Zvonko Springer goes hunting wild animals in their habitat
• Jim Olson describes the many restrictions in nursing homes
• Tom Telfer goes to Africa with a Rotarian expedition
• Frank Sterle is spooked by his own story
• Jean Sterling has problems with her cell phone
• Sites are recommended by Barbara Wear, Bill McNair, Carol Hansen, Kate Brookfield, and Tom Williamson

Zvonko Springer and his family are staying at the Seronera Lodge in the Serengeti National Park in their

FIRST KENYAN SAFARI

There was a small museum, sponsored by New York Museum, the best part of which was the presentation of the annual migration of hundred of thousands of Burchell´s zebra and wildebeests (white-bearded gnus). Now in August the herds were moving into the northern Serengeti around Grumeti and the Mara River, going into southern regions of the Masai Mara Game Reserve. In November the herds would start moving south into the Serengeti plains and towards their most eastern grazing grounds around Olduvai Gorge and Lakes Masek and Ndutu. The annual peak of reproduction of gnus and zebras occurs there as the herds find the fresh grass in the rich soils of Ngorongoro. The herds stay around this region until about March, when they start moving westwards towards the western corridor. They reach it in the Grumeti- controlled area by June and July, following the availability of grass, and start a new annual migration.

In the museum were several chests with large drawers marked with the name of the caches they contained. Vesna opened every single drawer, meticulously inspecting each, and found dozens of preserved bodies of birds and small rodents.

It was time to go dinner in an open-air restaurant that had a thatched roof. We were not surprised to find crumbles of it in our dishes. It started to drizzle, cooling the air nicely, but it was not possible to sit around a fireplace in the open. So we returned to our rondavel and by 8:30 were in our beds under mosquito nets. During the night we could hear a concert of various insects, including crickets, rustling in the thatch, accompanied by the rain. Quite a symphony of noises compared to the roaring of lions and other loud animals. However, we slept well secured under the mosquito nets.

We got up shortly before 7:00 a.m. and had breakfast before going out with the idea of visiting Lake Magadi, some 25km south of the lodge. I drove fast, knowing this earthen track from the day before, but stopped soon after we left as we came across a group of 12 grown-up lions with four cubs. Two men riding bicycles passed us, not bothering about the lions resting in the grass some 5m off the road. Two other men walked by, and we thought it necessary to draw their attention to the lions, but they thanked us and walked on. Could we get out of the car to get closer to the lions to take pictures? We did not try it though, and drove in the direction of Lake Magadi.

Vesna spotted two lions lying in the grass so I left the road to get closer, but they did not like our approach and got up, moving into deeper grass. Ruefully I turned back onto the road and soon after, we arrived at the lake. The water level was low and we could get closer to the birds as they were less wary than those on Nakuru Lake. We could approach them up to 15m, making it easier to take pictures of the flamingos, ducks, and other kinds of swamp birds nesting here.

It was getting warm so we drove on through low grass, zigzagging between low bushes, some of them thorny. We scared some gazelles and hyenas resting in the shade so we got tired of watching. Suddenly I spotted an animal on a low branch almost above the car and shouted, "Leopard! Leopard! Take pictures!" My two girls were almost asleep and did not believe it at first, but the beautiful cat got up, stretched, slithered slowly down the trunk, crossed the road 5m in front of us, and disappeared in the deep grass. Thus it happened that no picture was taken to prove that we have seen our first leopard, which was really a beauty. We returned to the lodge disappointed by our search for a leopard that moved right in front of our nose. What a shame!

After lunch and a good rest we had forgotten the bad luck of our first encounter with a leopard. As usual, we drove out at 4:00 o´clock with the idea of looking for Roan antelopes near the Banagi Hills, the only place they could be found in the Serengeti. I chose a closer route below the Nyaraswiga Hills, where we found two lions having big problems with their digestion. We watched them and Ljiljana thought that some castor oil could help them, but how to explain that to a lion? We could not stay long as some heavy clouds came up in the west and it looked like trouble if did not get onto firmer ground. Luckily, we got on the main track below the Banagi Hills and I drove toward the lodge as fast as possible.

The rain started and I drove on, changing gears between first and second without using the brake. At a curve, the car caught in a washout on the road and slid sideways, being stopped by a bush. I started the engine, slowly releasing the clutch so that the front wheels gripped and the car moved back onto the road easily. We managed a few smaller hills and were back safe to the lodge in a real downpour.

We really worried how our friends the Sachses would manage because of ominous clouds over the Sabora Plains northwest of the Seronera. We expected them to arrive from Musoma on Lake Victoria and Ushashi, following the only road to Serengeti along the Grumeti River. However, in that direction it looked as if the end of world were coming. There was nothing else to do but to have dinner and have a bath in separate bathtubs outside our rondavel.

The weather on Wednesday was beautiful. We started to drive closer to the lodge and went across the Seronera River´s left bank, where we did not find any lions. So we returned and went over to the right bank, and soon we came across a lonely lioness bellowing yearningly. Before long, another lioness came out of the bush and they exchanged catlike greetings with purring and licking. It was the right scene for taking pictures and sound recording until both got up to walk off on the road. We followed them at a reasonable distance as they went the same way we had come from. In the following few hours we pursued this couple of lionesses, disregarding the time. By now we had learned that patience and not forcing the time was the right way to view animals in their wild environment.

After a while we noticed the lionesses getting off the road into the high grass. I left the road at a more suitable place but lost the couple for some time. On a meadow with shorter grass, I moved parallel to the lionesses´ direction until we spotted a lion and two lionesses waiting for "our" couple. After the standard greeting procedure, all five got up and ambled slowly off. We drove on at the same speed, getting closer to them without disturbing them, although the gap now and then was less than 5m. One or the other lionesses turned her head to look at us as if saying, "What are you here for?" and marched on unperturbed. Nobody cared for time as we were approaching a cluster of trees where another group of one lion and three lionesses was resting. It was a great scene of greeting, after which all nine cats got down, stretching before lying in the deep shade. Soon all of the lions were asleep so it was time to leave them in peace.

On the way back we met another car, so we told them where the lions were and they told us where we could find cheetahs. We drove on through low grass, startling some hyenas or warthogs, and scaring several gazelles. One of the latter rushed away, stopping at a safe distance to watch us. Vesna pointed to a young one lying almost invisible in the grass. We followed the lions from the Masai Kopjes to Loliondo Kopjes, and then moved towards Simba Kopjes until we got to the main road. As we were told, we found the couple of cheetahs waiting for us, almost posing for picture taking. The whole morning we wandered freely over the meadows, despite high grass here and there. This freedom of movement was the most enthralling experience we had there.

To be continued.

Jim Olson writes about restrictions in nursing homes:

FLY YOUR KITE OVER THE FENCE

In some ways life in a nursing home is a modified version of life in prison, with many restrictions on personal activity and life choices, with little room for independent action. It´s a life closely controlled by others, sometimes by legal controls such as guardianship, or sometimes as simple as fiscal power of attorney controlling the individual´s ability to fund some unrealistic - or even realistic - whim or obsession. In any case, these barriers lead to an almost universal desire to escape to an imagined or memory- based life elsewhere. The goal of one troubled resident "to get the hell out of here" is reflected in various ways by almost all residents, a desire often inversely proportionate in fervour to the likelihood of its success and relationship to reality.

The home I am in is filled with individual stories of desired escape. For several years, one resident in the "memory" ward prepared to return home with the relatives who brought her here that day, a day several years ago in reality. She was always fearful that she would not be on time. She died still waiting. Another resident, a WWII Navy pilot, planned a recovery from a stroke, a recovery that never came; kept scanning the private plane catalogs for the one he would buy if only he had control of the chequing account held firmly by his wife. More common are the stories of a hoped-for disability problem soon to be solved, allowing a return "home," even though that "home" is another less-restrictive institutional "home" more comfortable to the resident.

An area nursing home houses a remarkable exception to this desire to escape. A resident in his nineties leads a very active intellectual and social life with no desire to leave the confines of the nursing home. His story was related to me by the nursing home grapevine, a group of cititizens who visit residents of area homes, cheering up residents and passing on information. As the story goes, this resident was an inmate in Alcatraz as a draft dodger and served as the prison librarian, supplying research material to the "Birdman of Alcatraz" for the several books the Birdman published in spite of his incaceration. The resident evidently had experience in functioning well within limits. When asked how he kept his mental activity at such a high level, he replied, "You need to learn to fly your kite over the fence."

I don´t know if the story is accurate or a nursing home myth, but in either case I find it an inspiration for a personal attitude. I know my escape from the troublesome barriers I experience now will be relatively easy, but from a wider perspective, I also know that the future holds many challenges to personal freedom of various kinds, and I could be well advised to suck it in and learn to fly my kite over the fence.

ED. NOTE: I can attest to the existence of restraints in nursing homes. Apart from the legalities and medical regimes, the home my sister, Nell, was in had locked doors. Residents were not allowed outside unless signed out by responsible adults. The reason given was that a resident had wandered away and never been found. On the other hand, the doors at George Derby Centre, home for veterans, are not locked - except for the dementia ward. Perhaps veterans are assumed to be more responsible than other frail older people. For anyone considering a nursing home for themselves or loved ones, it would seem to be a good idea to enquire about their policies.

Tom Telfer writes about a recent trip to participate in

ROTARIANS´ WORK IN AFRICA

Polio Plus takes on a whole new exciting meaning as one stands in an African village, frying in the heat, and placing two drops of vaccine on a quivering tongue!

Last November, I headed to Cotonou, Benin, in West Africa, via Paris. Thirty-eight Rotarians, representing 32 clubs from 21 districts, took part in the event. Local Rotarians and health workers worked with us, to give vaccine to 3,313 children under the age of five.

Some of us headed out to distant villages on motor bikes. Chalk strokes on the clay hut walls recorded our visit. A black magic marker was used to paint the nail of the left hand before we moved on to the next infant.

Another important proceeding was our attendance at the fifth Annual Project Fair with representatives from five different West African nations - Benin, Togo, Nigeria, Ghana, and Cote d´Ivoire, representing 48 different Rotary clubs. We estimate that there were 240 different projects offered, worth an estimated value of more than $2.5 million. Information will be made available at our district conference, if your club wishes to team up with an African club.

The last highlight was a visit to a Mercy Ship. Over 40 doctors complete 7,000 surgeries a year. We learned also about their programs on land, with health, education, water, and agriculture.

If you want a similar experience in Nigeria this April, contact me for details: ttelfer@rogers.com

Frank Sterle writes:

AND SHE WAS NO GHOST ...

One night, as I wrote the sequel to an initial ghost story while alone in my room with the door closed, I became somewhat spooked by my own writing subject. Not that I´m that good at writing ghost stories; nonetheless, I started to feel creepy at the ideas aroused by my imagination. As I became more and more immersed in my writing, I peaked in my sensitive state of mind.

And then she did it: my cat, Mimi, happened to be in the room with me, on the bed immediately behind my chair. I had forgotten that she was in the room. Deciding that she was rather bored in my room, she very quietly (naturally) walked across the bed and gently poked her claw into my back.

To say I was stunned would be an understatement. A chill when through my entire body, and I reluctantly turned around to see who was present with me, alone (or so I thought) in the room.

But I was quite relieved at the sight of my cat, who lightly meowed for me to let her out of my room. Indeed, it was no ghost - just Mimi.

CORRESPONDENCE

Jean Sterling writes: I´m glad to hear from Jim and that his sense of humor is intact. Glad he has an angel in his current digs and sorry to hear about the witch.

I had some more cell phone adventures in the past few days. I am very computer literate, and I get along just fine with my MP3 player and our new GPS. However, when it comes to cell phones, I am, to be politically correct, challenged. In blunter terms you would say I am dimwitted and stupid.

Anyway, my cell phone-dependent oldest son (Bill) came for his nephew Everett´s first birthday. We had to pick Bill up at the airport, so I sent him an e-mail telling him that we would follow his flight on the internet and leave for the airport when the plane was close to landing. I told him I would have the cell phone turned on especially for him and asked him to call me - that he had the number in his contacts (I sure didn´t know what it was).

I took care to read the rather cryptic directions about how to answer a call, which I had never done, and the directions said to hit the send button when it rang. Well, he called, and I flipped it open and hit send, and voila - he wasn´t there. Apparently you are supposed to hit send if the phone is already open. However, since it was closed, the phone was smart enough to know that I wanted to answer when I flipped it open, so it got confused and Bill ended up in voicemail. Voicemail politely told him that the user apparently hadn´t set up voicemail, which was much more polite than saying that this dimwit was too brainless to set up voicemail. So, probably in desperation, he called me again, and I figured I might as well just go ahead and say hello, and there he was.

Everett´s first birthday party was a blast, but that´s another story. There were lots of people there, including Sarah´s mother, who left her cell phone behind when she went home. Sarah and Dave (Everett´s parents) went out for a while that evening and gave me their phone number. They weren´t gone very long when a cell phone I hadn´t noticed started ringing. I thought it might be their phone and that they had forgotten it, so I decided I had best answer it. I tried to get it open every which way without success A few minutes later it rang again, and the same scenario ensued. This time I noticed that the front of the phone was lit and that it showed the number of the missed call. So, I hit the number, and wonder of wonders, the phone started ringing. The conversation was a bit confusing at the beginning as I expected to talk to Sarah, and her mom, who answered, didn´t know at first who I was, but we got it all sorted out.

So I learned several things. First, you don´t hit the send button to answer a call unless the phone is already open, and second, some phones don´t flip open. I also learned that the phone tells me the time when I turn it on, that they are very handy for meeting people at the airport, and that I have no desire to set up voicemail.

THIS WEEK´S SUGGESTED SITES

Barbara Wear sends this information of interest to American readers: If you know any woman currently undergoing chemotherapy, there is a cleaning service that provides free housecleaning once a month for four months while she is in treatment. All she has to do is to sign up and have her doctor fax a note confirming the treatment. Cleaning for a Reason will have a participating maid service in her zip code area arrange for the service. This organization serves the entire USA and currently has 547 partners to help these women. I´m not sure why this is only for women; perhaps men can get help with this if they´re living alone.

Bill McNair forwards the URL for a video of a performance by a stunt pilot who in real life is a Delta Airlines pilot. His act at air shows is to pretend that he is a drunken spectator who rushes from the stands and jumps into a Piper Cub and takes off without any understanding of how to fly a plane. The Piper Cub is actually specifically built (and especially the wing tips!) to withstand enormous stress and has a very powerful engine. It is one of the most dangerous of air show acts because of the low altitude at which the pilot performs with unbelievable skill, which becomes obvious in the attached video:

Carol Hansen forwards this must-see video about modified CPR:

Kate Brookfield writes: An experiment by Harvard psychologist Ellen Langer three decades ago holds significant clues to how people can influence the state of their health in old age:

Tom Williamson sends this URL for airplane buffs, a video of the only Spitfire still flying:

Yes, the pictures of Giant George are authentic: