Solitary vs lonely

While chopping vegetables, profound thoughts come to me. Like whether I am a lover of solitude or am I lonely? I am alone this weekend, but more about that later. I am also at an interesting transitional point in life. My two children are adults now. I am in a comfortable relationship with my partner where the throes of passion (both in love and anger) are on the simmer. We spend our evenings in relative quiet, he doing his thing and me reading. We give each other space to pursue happiness in our own ways. It took me a while to realize that my happiness is not dependent on anyone but me. Gone are the days of hectic activities of school, work, dinner, homework, swim practice, baseball practice. I have a lot of time in my hands and no one to dictate me how to spend my free time. I choose solitude and books. I like this new phase in my life and in our relationship.

As I said, I am alone this weekend. Since I came from work last evening, I have not spoken to anyone except for a friend who called me to talk about book donation. I want to see if I can go through the weekend without actually interacting with another human being. I have some errands to run so that may be difficult. But I will not engage in any meaningful conversation with anyone. A social experiment, I call it. I read somewhere that urban loneliness is affecting not only the elderly population but also the young. I am not elderly yet. Middle aged and a recluse. I remember an interview of a young woman who had moved to a city for work. She never spoke to anyone over the weekends when she didn’t have work. I thought of her today. Did she miss human interaction? Why don’t I? Interestingly, when I am with my friends at work, I love our engagement. I love them. I love that we can laugh together. But once I come home, I am satisfied to just be home.

This is not a new thing. My very extroverted mother did not understand my need to be away from people. If I made a plan to meet up with friends, I dreaded the meet-up and complained constantly that I did not want to go. “But these are your dear friends!” Ma would say. And when I actually dragged myself to meet them, I had the best time. But when I came back, I was also relieved to be home and happy that I had a good time.

Along with age, I have grown to love this solitude even more. I have wondered if I am lonely. Rarely do I have miss being with people. Strangely though, all my jobs have been people oriented. I work at a public library and I interact with people all day and I do it well.

Here I am, sitting in complete silence in my house, typing my thoughts. I was in the middle of making bed and folding laundry but there is no one in the house to expect me to finish that. That is a luxury – to be on my own timeline, with my own thoughts.

Lastly, there is a great fiction depicting this transitional phase in women by Catherine Newman called Sandwich. Some books speak to you and some books talk about you. Sandwich does both.

What is the difference between solitude and loneliness?

Patience and the great migration

Patience is a virtue that I was not born with. As a child and a young person I got bored easily and moved on to different things. I had crushes and then got over them quickly as well. So much so that my mother worried that I will never have a stable relationship in my life. I take every opportunity to remind Sean how lucky he is that I have loved him for over 28 years now. As I got older I mindfully worked on my patience. But I am far from achieving the desired state. I am certainly a work in progress.

I had an opportunity to practice this virtue during our safari trips in Masai Mara though. Spotting wild animals in their natural habitat is not an easy feat. They do not come to us at our beck and call. We are visitors in their domain and we need to wait out patiently, hoping they would grace us with a rare sighting. On the last day of our stay at Enkewa camp, our driver and spotter Caleb took us to the Mara river hoping to see the great migration when wildebeests and zebras cross the river to go to Serengeti. The drive from our camp to the river was long and bumpy. I don’t recommend this trip if anyone has a bad back. We were rewarded, however, for the drive to Mara river by the sighting of a large herd of elephants. This is the first time I discovered how they eat in the wild. They yanked the grass or shrub with their trunk and a kick with their powerful leg at the roots to uproot the grass. I had only seen them eat at a zoo and no idea about this kicking routine. And we saw some elephant babies, one being only a few months old.

When we reached close to the river, we saw lines of wildebeests and zebras moving slowly in the direction of the river. Caleb, Lesoloi, and Wilson got excited. They hoped they could show us at least a trailer of the great migration. But this involved a long wait. Caleb parked the car at a distance from the river so as not to interfere in the animals’ journey towards it. And we sat there. Quietly. All around us was the whistling of the wind, dust blowing and the sounds of different birds flitting around. The Masai tribe are warriors and lion hunters. Patience is innate in them. Sean is patient too. I am not. At the beginning, I wondered how long do we have to wait and if the wait is long, do I really want to see the animals crossing the river? In our van was another couple who were also very willing to wait. I had no choice. As we sat there in silence, and I started getting comfortable in it, I had a strange exhilarating feeling. One associates ‘exhilaration’ with adrenaline rich adventurous activities. Yet, sitting in complete silence in the wide savanna with only bird songs to keep us company with complete strangers (except my husband) was exhilarating. I can’t quite explain why. I think the realization that I am a part of this huge cycle of life was gratifying. The fact that I was experiencing that moment with nature, in nature, about to experience something that happens every year when I am living my life in United States was exhilarating. I really don’t know. I sat there. Waiting.

After an hour or so, Caleb’s walkie talkie came alive with information from other spotters in the area. Something was happening. He quickly turned the ignition key of the van and picked up speed racing towards the river. We held on for dear life. He parked close to the river’s edge with a clear view of what was about to ensue. The animals had just entered the river to cross and crocodiles were ready for them on the other side. It was like watching a tense sports game – will the crocodiles get the wildebeests? We were told that crocodiles go without food for up to six months and during the time of great migration, they eat well. We saw one crocodile almost got a wildebeest but somehow the animal escaped to the other side only to be chased by a hyena. We were rooting for a safe crossing for the animals, but that meant the crocodiles having to go without dinner.

We had left the camp at 6:15 am, we had bush breakfast by the river around 9 am, overlooking a family of hippos. And after the viewing of the great migration, we started our long journey back to the camp over heavily rutted roads. But while we were on our way back, Caleb heard on his walkie that Kasuri, the famous leopard has been spotted napping on her favorite tree. How could we not pay our respects to one of the most beautiful creatures that ever roamed this earth? We took a detour to see the sleeping leopard on our way back. There were several safari vans lined up there to see her so we had to wait our turn. And while we marveled at her sleeping form, all those tourists snapping pictures marred the experience for me.

We arrived at our camp close to 2:30 pm. A smiling Caleb turned to us and said, “So should we meet at 4:30 to go out for an evening safari?” Sean and the other couple said “Sure.” I knew I wasn’t going to join them as I needed to collect my thoughts, experience the beautiful camp, and revel in some solitude. More in the next blog.

A moment with the lions…

I take credit for spotting her first. We were driving along the rutted roads of savanna in the Mara district of Kenya when I saw a glimpse of orange behind the dry grass under a palm tree. “Is that a lion?” I tentatively asked our Masai guide and spotter. Like a cheetah, Caleb,our amazing guide turned the steering wheel of the van and drove closer to the lion and I cringed a little bit at the proximity. We were no more than 15 to 20 feet away from the lioness, calmly panting in the shade. She gave our van a cursory glance and casually put her head down to sleep. We noticed she was pregnant. Caleb turned around to me and gave a thumbs up, “Good spotting!” My chest inflated in pride. Huge compliment from a professional. The excitement of spotting the lioness increased tenfold when we turned our head and discovered that right across from her, two teenager cubs and another fully grown lioness were feasting on a wart hog (already dead and mostly eaten). Our van was between the mama lion and the three others.

Sean and I would eventually get acclimated to our close proximity to the wild animals eventually during our three day stay at Enkewa Camp, Masai Mara but this was our first day and we found it hard to believe how close we were to lions in the wild. Caleb, Lesoloi, and Wilson, our amazing driver, guide, spotters told us that the animals, especially lions, wildebeest, zebras, buffaloes, hyenas and many others were so used to the vans that they don’t really react to them any more. While I was very glad to see wild animals so up close and personal, this fact of human intrusion did bother me somewhat (while actively participating in the intrusion).

Apart from Sean, me, and our guides, there was a lovely young couple in the van from Sydney. While the lions ate the wart hog and mama lion slept, we sat there in silence experiencing circle of life, thankfully as witnesses.

During our stay at the camp and our daily safari tours of over six hours and sometimes more, we saw lion prides many times. We sat in our vans watching them rest, feed, practice their roars. We learned how they smell the prey by grimacing, how they stalk. We sat quietly with only the sounds of birds around us. I finally understood the sounds of silence. As I sat there I marveled at the fact that at that moment I was in the presence of a most powerful animal, sharing space, sharing the moment together. Alive in the same frame. I never thought I would experience it. I did, and for that I am so thankful.