‘Twas the night before Christmas
When all through the camp
Every animal was stirring
From lions to elephant (sorry)
They had roared and they had sung
And managers had glared
In hoping that dawn’s angel
Would soon be there
The guests were all nested
All snug in their beds
While visions of leopard cubs
Danced in their heads
Last Christmas had been frugal and lean
Festivities quietened by lockdowns and quarantine
This year guests have come from near and afar
Enduring arbitrary listings and costly PCR
They deserve this poem though hardly the bard
As they gorge on turkey and Fig in their favourite backyard
They like their Christmas raw, never clinical nor fenced
Savouring the bush’s earthy smell: a sort of frank incense
They love the soirees: lion’s decibels hitting the heights
It wouldn’t be Kicheche if it were a silent night
The bitings, the welcome cards: these special little things
And whether its Nelson, Jimmy or Peter each has their three favourite Kings
Kicheche is magical although we can’t heal the lame
But our sorcerers create miracles on the fabled dotted plains
Plagues of locusts and fire are taken in strides
Nothing quells the ardour of our four camp’s guides
Askaris diligently watch over their priceless Kicheche flock
From kitchen to mess, our staff never watch the clock
Enough to quell any early morning grumble
The wake-up call murmur and flashing shuka and smile
Knowing that every staff member will go the extra mile
Festive greetings to Kichechians: a prosperous one we pray
Massive festive thanks to all guests this year and indeed staff, it has been a eventful season with many obvious complications.
A marathon not a sprint as the saying goes and talking of which please take a look at this very short video of the recently completed Conservancy Ultramarathon filmed (somehow) by runner and guest Dan Clarkson.
