SUNBRIGHT LODGE AND THE NGORONGORO CRATER

Even looking back later, with time to reflect, it is hard to see how the signals were missed.  It came down to the fact that the young man who provided airline tickets at a very good price from Zanzibar to Arusha, came through with complete accuracy and otherwise flying colors.  I projected he would be able to do the same on the safari front as well.

Needless to say, Bora Picha did NOT meet me at the Arusha Airport.  A stand-in only known as Frank, driving a fairly respectable Land Rover, appeared instead in his place.  Frank was perplexed when I said the plan was to stay in Arusha, utilize the excellent services and internet availability of the Arusha Backpackers hostel, and then be picked up in the morning for a three-hour drive to The Crater.

“Oh no, you need to come with me now,” he said.  “Bora sent me.  We have a two hour drive still.  We will be much closer to the crater.  It is all arranged.”  I reluctantly agree.  After all, it is all an adventure, as long as you are still breathing by nightfall and not utilizing hospital services by day.

We arrive two and one-half hours later (Frank is reluctant to get beyond third gear and goes uphill like a loaded 18-wheeler) in the settlement of Mto wa Mbu – which, when converted into Swahili, translates into “Mosquito River.”  We pull into the Sunbright Lodge.  A very agreeable appearing, Polynesian style place.  “So, this is Bora’s hangout,” I think to myself.  At the moment, the attractive lodge seemed to fit with the overall plan I’d negotiated back in Zanzibar.  Things were looking very promising.

Bora soon presented himself.  Along with a cadre of hangers on, assistants, cooks, and barfly types.  You try to separate the wheat from the chaff in Africa so that you don’t needlessly speak to everybody and repeat yourself ad nauseum.  But, it is difficult to tell who is who, who has a position of responsibility and a real job to attend to, and who is merely lurking because they are being tolerated and things look interesting.  All are hail-fellows-well-met types.  All want to belly up to the bar before business is even cemented.  I am wary of this.  Unless clarified with absolute certainty, often times the Mzungu is expected to pay ... for everybody.

Bora himself appears rather slouchy, dressed in khakis and poor quality shoes.  You can almost always tell a man’s bearing and station by the quality of his shoes.  Good ones give a mediocre suit the panache of the King of Siam.  Poor ones make a Brooks Brothers suit look like the outfit of a waste manger removing animal renderings from a chicken ranch.  Bora’s looked like hinged clown shoes.

We have a Serengeti beer to celebrate our upcoming safari to Ngorongoro Crater the following morning, and then sit down to cement details.  He invites me away from the reception area to an outside table “where it is quieter.”  I double check to make sure the handwritten contract arranged with Hatib Kassim back in Zanzibar is available for rapid reference.  I first ask to review what all is included in the two-day safari we have planned to the Crater and the famous Serengeti National Park.  Then ask to confirm the price.

Bora does the roundabout method of negotiating.  “What do you want to be included,” he asks?  He ignores temporarily any reference to price.  “Well, what we talked about.  What Hatib told you about on the phone.  A day at the Crater, and then a day in The Serengeti.  I just happen to have a list right here, signed by him.  You should already know what is included.”  And then I show my list, taking care to keep my thumb over the final price.

“Ah, yes, we can do this,” Bora lights up.  I am familiar enough with Arabic/African negotiating to understand that the agreed price is always something to be undermined both throughout, and at the end of any final actual payment.  Plenty of references to “My Friend” are made throughout, to soften the sabotage.  “And at what price?” I finally ask.  My thumb remains over the final written number agreed to by his agent in Zanzibar.

He calculates some figures – as if this is a whole new destination requiring a start from the beginning – and comes up with a price well in excess of $200 beyond what had been quoted to me.  I then show him the number on the paper.  “No, that won’t work.  That is excessive and not in line with what you already agreed to.”   And I show him the line-by-line signed copy of our safari itinerary agreed to by Hatib.  “You already agreed to THIS price, Bora.”

He slumps in his chair.  “But The Crater is so expensive, and The Serengeti is so far!” he protests.  He is correct.  The Crater alone requires a $50 per person National Park fee, and then a $200 descent fee per vehicle.  You are out $300 US before even paying for the driver, his vehicle, gas, food, or anything else.  We go round and round the mulberry bush on this.  I rapidly lose my confidence in his ability to deliver.

“Look,” I finally say.  “You had time to calculate this earlier, when we were on the phone with Hatib.  You knew the pricing.  It should have been included.  I presumed you would save money by taking an entire group down into the Crater.  Now it appears you will be taking only two of us.  That is not my problem.  It is yours.  I am not paying a dime beyond what is agreed upon here.”  And I point with renewed emphasis to the signed itinerary sheet agreed to on the phone.

He attempts to renegotiate, perhaps sensing I at least understand his dilemma.  He pleads.  Dusk draws near.  I may have to journey to a nearby place and make new arrangements.  And finally: “Take it or leave it, Bora.  I was in discussion with other safari operators.  I can just as easily leave here now and go with them.  You need to decide.  Now.  Actually, NOW-NOW.”   And I request that the presumed porters (which I never use, always carrying my own pack and flexible suitcase) put my luggage back into the Land Rover.

Bora opens up his phone.  He calls Hatib.  I remind him Hatib took his pricing from a professional looking price schedule prepared by Bora, then start walking to the car.  “Okay.  It is okay.  You pay in cash though.”  I point to one of the final lines in the handwritten agreement between myself and Hatib: “Must be able to use credit card to pay!”  And then point out cash machines in Tanzania won’t let you take that amount of cash out on a daily basis anyway.  Not even in two days.  And then resume walking.

“Okay.  Okay.  We go.”  Bora finally agrees to the original terms.  Then directs me to a white man who had earlier introduced himself as Jurie (“Yuri”) who had the credit card machine on the premises for payment.  I paid $30 extra for the bank processing fee, then asked Jurie to provide me a receipt.  He did so, taking care to note: “Accommodation and safari.  Paid in full.”   Bora went over a few minor details, such as starting time for the morning.  And then, since there was no internet, I retired to the bar to watch soccer (the universal language of the planet) and talk with Jurie and other locals.  Bora disappeared.

Jurie van Riel, as it turns out, is the Operations Manager and co-owner of Sunbright Lodge.  He was curious what business I was transacting with Bora that required the use of his credit card apparatus.  I told him about my safari arrangement.  That is a very reasonable price,” and nodded his head thoughtfully.  And then I learn that Bora has nothing to do with Sunbright whatsoever except for the fact he rents a single thatched round rondevel there where Swahili and Tanzanian art is sold.  I begin to understand why Bora did not want to occupy any part of the official offices in the Reception area to conclude our agreement.

Sunbright Lodge itself is a relaxed, quiet location off the busy highway leading to The Ngorongoro (and hour’s drive) and The Serengeti (a day’s journey away).  It is used primarily for foreign visitors wishing to visit the nearby Manyara National Park,  Tarangire National Park, and The Crater.  Due to the distance, most tourists utilize safari camps in other areas to visit The Serengeti.

It has a Lodge with nine fully-equipped rooms and full board (including buffet meals prepared by Jurie’s wife, Nadine, offering locally sourced Tanzanian and Swahili meals).  It also has 12 tents, two of which are family sized – each includes en-suite bathrooms with hot water and 220V wiring.  Finally, there is a campground for the budget minded. A pool, bar, restaurant, reception area and campfire circle complete the grounds.  My package with Bora includes one of the tents.

He comes to me later, beckoning quietly to talk in private and explaining there is a problem.  Of course there is a problem, I tell myself.  Either Bora can’t add, or he is feeling the narcosis of negotiating poorly.  I am feeling like a hard-ass, and not subject to additional negotiation.  Bora explains that since I made my credit card payment to Jurie’s account, he won’t have access to the money for up to two days from now.

That leaves me with two choices.  I can hang out for an additional time at Sunbright Lodge and take a chill day (and also lose a precious travel day), or – since Bora is lacking the resources to pay for the crater descent fee and two national park fees on his own until he actually receives my safari payment – perhaps I could go to the cash machine in the morning, get $300 for the fees, and get reimbursed by Jurie directly?  I could only laugh.

But Jurie drops by to add he will personally assure the refund, then writes me a brief promissory letter (quoted in full) notable for its crisp professionalism and directness:

23/04/2014

Refund of Park fees and Crater Service fee to Mr. Lawrence A. Cenotto

As per our discussion on the evening of 23/04/2014, Sunbright Lodge, Mto wa Mbu hereby pledges to refund Mr. Lawrence A. Cenotto the amount of US $300.00 for Park Fees in order to facilitate his Safari to the Ngorongoro Crater.

Said transaction will take place on Friday 25/04/2014 at Exim Bank, Karatu Branch

Signed,

Jurie van Riel

Operations Director

Sunbright Hotels Ltd

I agree to these new terms.  It remains within my awareness that I am still getting one very attractive deal and do not want to lose my advantage due to somebody else’s cash flow problem.  Jokingly inquiries are soon added about where I can go about having Jurie’s letter bronzed?

Jurie suggests we leave the next morning for The Crater about 10 AM, to have time to visit the ATM cash machine and still get a relatively full day with wildlife.  That way, since the park fees at Ngorongoro operate on a 24 hour basis, it will be possible to traverse the park on the way to the Serengeti the following day without having to double up on the fees if we pass through the far exit gate somewhere between 10 and 11 AM.

Instead of two of us making the trip from Sunbright (plus Frank the driver), there are five total.  Bora and a friend of his, Christopher, also decide to attend, the reason being completely inexplicable.  A disclaimer is quickly made acidly clear: I am only paying for two park fees, not three and not five.  Once again, when dealing with these folk, you can never be clear enough, nor ask enough questions, nor make enough disclaimers, nor get enough in writing.  Even ministers are required to put their price in writing now.

The cash machine portion of the safari is another episode of Keystone Cops.  First the $300 must be withdrawn.  It arrives in Tanzanian Shillings.  Then it must be converted mathematically into dollars.  Chris comes up with one number.  The Bank Manager comes up with a number more favorable to me.  I insist on using his number.  Then that amount must be tendered to Frank.  He drops by one office to convert the cash into credit on a special Ngorongoro Descent card, and then another – I think it was the park entry gate – to actually pay the fees.  It should have taken ten minutes, fifteen tops.  It took 75.

The winding dirt road to the top of Ngorongoro Crater and then along its rim is very well maintained.  Along the way a small army of workers using nothing more than hoes maintain potholes in the road, and more importantly, drainage culverts to the side.  These drainage portals are numerous and very well manicured.  This road is a cash cow for Tanzania, and must be kept up to heavily traveled standards.  A grader and later heavy roller are also present, keeping access smooth and level.

Before the steep descent even arrives, there are several miles of rim driving to negotiate.  The very first carved-out viewpoint in the crater edge is stunning, and gives broad hints of what is to follow.  Several large lakes dominate the crater floor, which is slightly smaller than the 19 kilometer rim-to-rim distance.  Entire herds of zebras, impalas, elephants, wildebeests, and gazelles and warthogs look like ant armies from nearly 3000 feet above.  It is a virtual wildlife zoo sans gates or fences.

Upon first descent, I notice cattle near the point where the crater floor begins to flatten out.  How can this be?  I am told it is because they are attended by young Masai tribe herders, clad in bright red robes and armed with several sets of knives and spears.  It is the duty of each Masai warrior to kill a lion prior to his full maturity.  The lions have collective knowledge of this, and when they see a red robe, they quickly flee.  Thus the cattle remain safe.

The Masai clan– famous for their jewelry, bright clothing, and cattle culture – arrived in Tanzania and Kenya from Namibia (far to the south and west).  Perhaps one should say they are really famous for their cattle thieving.  They have been in competition locally with the Iraqw Tribe (arrived from Ethiopia, to the north and east) for many years now.

Each has stolen cattle from the other (and others), and each denies it.   Each claims they originated the cattle, which was stolen from them.  They both claim what was rightfully theirs was merely taken back again. The competition got very serious until about 15 to 20 years ago, when the Iraqw started utilizing firearms.  Having long eschewed these weapons, the Masai soon found a different way to settle their differences.

The Masai, I am told, also teach their children to beg, and teach their animals to run into the road as vehicles approach.  In that way, they benefit both ways: they get to keep the meat, and get recompense for the animal.  We shall see … there must be some truth to the matter, however, as any time a driver I am with approaches a Masai herd, he does so very, very carefully [ I plan to visit these people for a longer stay once in Kenya ].

The crater itself is pure bliss.  Rarely have I ever enjoyed each square yard of an area as much, or lost track of time so willingly.  At first it begins like a Midwest prairie, since trees are lacking in the center of the crater and animals are less numerous.  But beyond the cattle we are eventually introduced to:  Grant and Thompson gazelles, Zebras, warthogs, wildebeest, water buffalo, many birds (including ostriches), velvet monkeys, baboons, lagoon with hippos, hyenas, impala, elephants, jackals, and … lions.  Finally!

In four previous visits this trip to South African National Parks or Game Preserves, not one single lion had been seen.  That was a primary motivation for visiting the crater.  With all those trapped animals, surely there must be some lions present?  So that became the directive to Frank: Find lions!  His forecaste in broken English: “100% chance of finding lions.”

The suspense builds slowly.  At first only likely hangouts where lions might be lurking are seen.  “Pride Rock” (Lion King reference) type jutting rockpiles, where a lion can observe from his throne all beneath him – and his next likely meal.  Then hints.  A leg sticking up here, a tail wagging there … clearly lions, but too far away.  Best viewed through field glasses.  Then the word from other meandering Land Rovers: “Lions on a hard right turn, 20 minutes away.”  Less than 5 kilometers.

Along the way, I witness an unexpectedly touching moment.  A male hyena, forlorn at the loss of a now deceased mate, keeps rising from a matted spot in tall grass, walking around almost drunkenly, and then laying down again.  On closer examination, his head is resting affectionately on her wasted hindquarter.  He is loathe to leave.  The sadness in his eyes tells an entire across-the-species universal story.

Finally, lions with more than one visible body part.  About 25 feet away.  But laying in tall grass.  Why won’t they just stand up and cooperate a little?  Maybe investigate us?  I begin to get the sinking feeling that this may be as good as it gets regarding “100% chance of lions.”  A sucky photo op to be sure, but click away is the rule.  Digital camera snapshots are mercifully erasable.

We round the corner discussing the notion of “at least we saw lions!” and upon clearing the first bush, nearly run over two more fast asleep right next to the road.  Could have spit on ‘em.  Snap away remains the rule.  Why won’t they just stand up a little?  Frank guns the engine, hits the road edge with a thud and the lions are upright in a millisecond.  Now they can be seen in their full glory.  I get every imaginable profile shot, both singly and collectively, before these two fall back asleep.

Then off to lunch.  Less than half a mile away, there is a so-called protected area with a bathroom, a water buffalo skull, and numerous velvet monkeys just waiting to steal your food.  We stop here to use the loo, look at the monkeys up close, and dine in the Land Rover.  At this time, I notice I am also providing identical lunches for Frank, Christopher, and Bora.  Not part of the plan.  Yet the annoyance rapidly slips away.

Other suprises await.  The ostriches, so ungainly and misshapen compared to the sleek and intelligently designed plains animals they mingle with.  The lack of obvious animal bones (they are scattered, since everybody eventually gets in on the “kill” action in The Crater).  And the hippos near the end of the day.  A herd of perhaps eight, was clustered around a newborn in a lagoon at the south side of the crater.  They get sunburned easily, and won’t show themselves – and only a peekaboo at that – much beyond a couple seconds.

The lagoon, hippos, surrounding marsh, forest of acacia trees just beyond, and pristine views of the rim rising high above become my favorite part of the crater.  Lighting in the crater changes throughout the day, and it is often fortuitous to return to a given spot hours later to see what new things – and viewpoints – have replaced a known commodity.

We have to be out of the crater by 6 PM.  Our ascent begins toward the opposite or south rim.  The labyrinth of road choices gets significantly narrowed.  Just over a short rise, we suddenly see three Land Cruisers clustered at the side of the road.  There is a lion.  A heavily maned male!  Then another.  Then six others on the opposite side of the road.  Then a female lion with two cubs.  Twelve lions in all.  It is so rich a find it is almost lion porn.

The reason for the cluster becomes immediately apparent.  A large water buffalo has been taken down within the last six to nine hours.  The lions are engorged on meat, and sleeping it off.  It is the simba version of having an all-night drunk.  We are lucky to have arrived even before the jackals and vultures.  Both soon appear.

The small and ever-wary jackals circle from way around to approach the kill.  Though the lions all sleep, they only approach furtively.  One finally gets the nerve to snatch some meat from the carcass, only to flee at the first twitch of movement.  This goes on for half an hour, while every photo angle imaginable is taken of maned male lions, mama lions, cubs, jackals, and the water buffalo remains themselves (largely a rib cage and hideously grinning jaw bones).

After five and one-half hours of this bliss, we crest the south rim.  Another forest of Acacia trees – quintessential Africa --  greets us as we take our leave.  It looks like something out of a postcard.  I am personally gratified to have been present in Ngorongoro Crater during the tourism low-season, and at a time of day when there were fewer humans in the crater.  We arrive at the park entry with five minutes remaining until 6 PM.

One gets the impression Frank has pulled off this timing coup in previous trips.  It is only then, in discussing my plans for the Serengeti for the next day with him, that he claims he has no idea what I am talking about.  “I am not supposed to take you to the Serengeti tomorrow,” he says.  “That is a long way. I’m not being paid for that.”  Right afterward I learn from the park rangers on an exit potty break, that the 24 hour rule for park departure is not a reality anymore – as soon as you leave the park, your fees are fully realized.

To enter the park again, you must pay a whole new set of fees.  Entering the Serengeti from these parts, requires first passing through The Ngorongoro Conservation area.  There is no such thing as a transit fee – or free pass for repeaters  I look at Bora.  He looks at Frank.  Frank quizzically looks at me.  This is worse than a Giordian Knot.

Near the end of the day’s nevertheless brilliant outing, we pass next to the deepest part of the Rift Valley – that part of the continent which splits Africa into low level troughs like Lake Malawi and Lake Tanganyika.  Nearby is the famous Olduvai Gorge, where paleontologist Louis Leakey first discovered multiple human ancestor fossils – including the 2.5 million year-old “Lucy” skeleton from the species Australopithicus Africanus.

Back in Sunbright Lodge, celebrating The Crater over gin and tonics, Bora beckons for yet another private meeting.  I have no patience for this continuing crap.  I jump him immediately with: “Why the hell doesn’t Frank know about taking us to the Serengeti tomorrow?”  He has no answer.  “We need to talk about expenses,” he adds.  “Fuck your expenses,” I bellow.  “We have an agreed price.  You also signed to the number.  I can’t help it if you can’t add.”

Over the next three hours, Bora pleads for reasonable money to break even.  I ask him what the name of his business is.  There is none.  He is a safari operator wannabee.  How many has he taken to the crater?  A total of ten.  What is his real job?  Selling art.  Why can’t he stick with his agreed to price?  No answer. 

Christopher and then the cook chip in, with their inflated expenses for jobs real and imaginary that contributed.

Chris reiterates how he understands what I am saying based on what he now knows, but intones that reasonable money is still a necessity.  He elevates the argument to a moral issue.  I take him to the sideline with: “Easy for you to say when you’ve just eaten your daily meals at my expense.”

Bora tries nothing new.  Just attempts to wear me down with repetition.  “We need to discuss a reasonable price.”  He has no idea how laughable I find this.  My swearing takes on new levels of both volume and profundity as his coterie of hangers-on and underlings attempt to augment his repetitions with fresh approaches.  I’ll have none of it.  I am The Lion King.  I have a throne and a written agreement.

I suddenly find myself very, very grateful that I’d gotten my safari arrangements on paper both in Zanzibar and at The Lodge, and then signed by both arrangers – at the selling end, and the provision end.  And in addition, that the credit card transaction went through Jurie.  For it was abundantly clear now, Bora intended to collect in full, then stiff me for the Serengeti end of the trip based on a “perhaps you misunderstood me” approach without receiving additional significant money.

In addition, I would now have to pay an extra $100 in park fees just to pass through the Ngorongoro on my way to the Serengeti.  For anybody who is aware of my backtracking rules and attitude toward either renegotiated trip arrangements or hidden fees, this option would be dead on arrival.  I discussed the whole development at length with Jurie.

The extent of the deception was just now becoming clear to him.  He advised me what type of fees professional safari operators had to pay just to stay in business, then pointed out HIS cost as a licensed provider for one day in The Crater would have been at least as much as my entire package, and without inclusion of the Serengeti.  He and I agreed to go to the bank in the morning for a full refund (of course I was already out my $300 for the crater fees, but I’d had an incredible outing for a day which could not be replaced), and then with he and Nadine’s help discussed what payments might fairly be paid for services actually delivered.

I settled on the camp fees for two nights with Jurie for his wonderful tents (bar bill had been previously paid, all in cash), $43 for two days worth of meals for two people for the cook, and $150 for Frank the driver based on a package deal of $250 for two days but with the Serengeti clearly off the table now.  When Jurie agreed to drive me clear back to Arusha in the morning so I’d have better flight or bus options west toward Burundi, I insisted he accept payment for a tank of gas.  He refused at first, until I insisted. 

Needless to say, this stand-up man came through in every respect the following morning.  He took me to the bus station and the airport.  Stood by while I bought tickets.  Delivered me to the Arusha Backpackers hostel for the night. And provided my full refund in American dollars.  These were then ladled out as diminished return payment portions as described above for all concerned (except Bora).

I headed west by bus the next morning, both wiser and yet richer due to the never-to-be-forgotten memory of the Ngorongoro Crater. The “reasonable price” on my terms and not that of the art sales con man was an added bonus.  Bora came away empty handed.  Except for an eviction notice from Sunbright Lodge I learned about via e-mail from Jurie two days later, after I was already in Mwanza – Tanzania’s second largest city, the economic engine of Lake Victoria, and halfway to Burundi and Rwanda.