Strictly speaking, the Masai Mara in Kenya is too much for such an urbanized human brain, especially when it is confronted with an African national park for the first time. The Masai Mara, often also spelled Maasai Mara, is the cross-border continuation of the Serengeti and one of the rare souvenirs that can be possible when the forces of Africa’s nature are allowed to develop almost undisturbed by humans. Especially in September or October, when the so-called Great Migration, the great animal migration of the Serengeti, takes place here, this stretch of land – yes, what a term unfortunately long worn out by the travel industry – is breathtaking.
One and a half million wildebeest, 400,000 zebras and hundreds of thousands of gazelles then migrate through this ideal type of tree-dotted savannah landscape – Mara means “spotted” in the language of the local Maasai. The faunistic sensory overload is not due to the sheer mass of animals, but also to the diversity of species: the extensive herds of large herbivores, which connoisseurs and smart talkers call herbivores, form a flying buffet, or better: running dinner for carnivores such as lions and Leopard. In between there are rarities such as the bat-eared fox, which specializes in termites, almost 500 different bird species and, despite the national park entrance fees of up to 80 US dollars per day, a large number of off-road vehicles filled with tourists.
So what to focus on? The two white-backed vultures in the acacia tree, behind which the sky is just changing color? The group of elephants right? The somewhat awkwardly towering hyena on the left or this yellow-throated sandgrouse? The somewhat aging African newcomer is doing really well, concentrating on the important things in life while some young lions are squabbling in the middle of the wilderness: “I have to go to the toilet.”