All These Birds

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There was this time I was down in South coast doing a story about the birds of the Arabuko Sokoke Forest. Yes, a story about freaking birds! I know zip about birds, and I do not particularly care for them either. My mantra with birds is, if I can’t eat it, I won’t bother with it. But I accepted the assignment because the money was decent.

Boy was I bored out of my brain!!

See, it was a three day assignment. Each morning a driver would pick me up from the hotel and we would head into the forest where I would meet this ageing conservationist who knew about 30,000 birds by both their scientific and common names and even by the sounds they made. Crazy. We would drive under the damp canopy of indigenous trees, the feeble light making a weak attempt to peek through the foliage, strange animals moaning in the thicket and small rodents darting in front of us, as though they were being chased by invisible beasts.

We would then get out of the car and walk for kilometers, with the old man with 30,000 bird sounds in his head, prattling on excitedly about the Sokoke Pipit and sijui the Amani Sunbird and a host of close to 300 bird species of that forest. Passion is one thing, but this man was on another level.

He would suddenly stop mid-step, ears cocked, then raise one gnawed finger up to command silence, (which convinced me he was the last of the diehard KANU members) and then say in a whisper, “that is the Otus Ireneae – Sokoke Scop Owl – and the smallest owl in Africa, here, have a look,” and hand me these binoculars from 1932 while pointing at a tree. “Do you see her there, on that left branch?” I couldn’t see shit, let alone the left branch he was speaking of. But I’d lie that yes, I could see the precious Otus Ireneae and the lovely left branch it perched on. I lied because he was so excited about his birds and I didn’t want to break his heart but also I wanted us to keep moving lest we are eaten by an animal while standing there looking at the bloody Otus Ireneae. I wasn’t just ready to die for an owl, least of all the smallest owl in Africa. At some point I was so bone tired and bored I wouldn’t have cared if we saw a bird breakdancing. If you ever sit at your desk feeling bored, you should try walking through a cold forest for 8 hours staring at birds.

At one point, he convinced me to get off the path even after admitting that there were snakes, but “a snake will not bite you until you threaten it”, and I asked him if leaving our path and getting into its path wasn’t a threatening move on our part and he said it was unlikely that we would encounter one. Only we did! A large brown ugly snake with a head the size of a mini- burger. He forgot to mention (conveniently) that the forest had 41 species of snakes!! One, two, three…41! I also forgot to mention that I would rather be mauled by a lion as finger food than come face to face with a snake. Let’s just say we didn’t look for any more birds that day after that incident.

In the evening I would be dropped back at the hotel where I’d take a long hot shower to rid my mind of Otus Ireneae and later sit down to dinner and eat alone. By the way, is it just me who usually finds themselves having dinner at a hotel while coincidentally someone seated a few tables away is celebrating their birthday, and the kitchen staff come out in a long meandering line, beating pans and pots and singing some cheesy “African” birthday jingle while they circle around your damn table with a cake, giving you false hope as a result, only to head to the birthday person’s table, who acts surprised as their date sits there feeling very creative and covert? I tell you what, when you have been watching birds the whole day, that shit is enough to make you slit your wrist with a butter knife.

After dinner I would sit down in my room and look at the notes I had written during the day and try to write something fun about birds and bird watching, but I just couldn’t write the first word! In the words of the famous rubbish ad….it just refused. I was expected to produce 4,000 words on birds. 4,000 words! Yet I couldn’t muster an opener. And every day for two days I would go back to the room and stare at the Word cursor waiting for an intro to leap into my mind with little success. Desperation.

The last night, after trying to write something with no success I walked out to the darkened beach and stood there listening to the waves crash ashore, feeling the salty breeze that also brought with it the deep mysteries of the Indian ocean. Then a thought occurred to me: “What would happen if I got onto a boat and disappeared into the ominous night?” I would leave everything in my room as it was and only go with the clothes on my back. I would leave my sketchy notes on birds behind and let the tide take me to whichever destination it desired. Maybe at dawn my boat would scrap at a beach in a small fishing village where I would start a new life as an unknown. I would probably learn to be a fishing net mender, then spend the whole day shirtless, mending fishing nets and later, as the large orange ball of the sun plunged in the horizon, retire to my modest makuti thatched house where I would curl on the mat under a flickering candle light and NOT wonder what was trending on Twirra.

(I’d miss my Kindle though)

That’s what writing does. It makes you disappear. Every time I sit down to write something I never really quite know where it will go and where it will lead me, but I succumb to words and I trust them to find safe shores. It’s literally like pushing the boat out into the night. And it’s freedom. Beautiful freedom. Words, like the tide, will simply lead you where they want to take you, and all you have to do is to put up your sail and go.

The fourth Bikozulu Writing Masterclass is on from 7th to 9th October at the Sarova Panafric Hotel. As usual we only need 20 people – people who love creative writing, people who want to be free. Registration is open today, so send an email to [email protected] and cc to me [email protected] to book a slot. We have 15 slots left so far.

Don’t just stand there staring at the sea. Come. Come let’s push this boat out into the dark waters together. Who knows what awaits us out there? Hopefully something more exciting than an Otus Ireneae.

Ps. Imelda sends her love. (The bitch).

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84 Comments
  1. The Masterclass is such an experience. Worth every penny. It was the best thing that i did this year; attending August Creative Writing Masterclass. Thank you Biko

  2. you got me googling Otus Ireneae (sounds like someone Irene loved owls).
    This is to the gang. I was in the last masterclass, and it was terrific! New insights, new people, and of course the cake’s cherry, learning under Biko himself.
    so go out and push that boat with him. Those 15 slots will be gone real quick. Cheers!

  3. ha ha ha and so I cracked in laughter my morning is brighter!just wondering whether you got round to writing that damn piece on Otus Ireneae?

  4. Great read Biko!! Newest member of the gang..can’t wait to read other posts to know who Imelda is 🙂
    ps..did you finally manage to reach 4000words?

  5. If life is this superb with one Mr. Biko’s art, how would it be with much more of his kind? I personally applaud your efforts loud and long JB.

  6. This post is like a ‘small’ pretty girl in a short black dress that shows up at your doorstep on Monday when you were expecting visitors only from Tuesday. Lovely.

  7. Irene/ Ireneae. For the love of my name the ‘ae’has been treated as silent. Irene here HATES owls. They are a bad omen.
    Awesome read Biko.

  8. I feel you…I’ve been on a trip to that forest…I wished we had gone to watch the Kericho tea plantations…that’s how that place sucks.

  9. what a coincidence after coming across the article you wrote back in 2011 about Lake Elmenteita Serena Luxury Camp… for the love of nature i let your love for birds pass…. psstt sorry i let your hate for snakes pass! heheehe

  10. can those going for the masterclass get us a picture of that forehead….i think Otuus Ireneae is biological term for ‘Otieno wa Irene’….like you meet otieno and since he’s a biologist dating Irene he goes like ‘ hi…am Otus Ireneae’

  11. I am a bird freak maybe me and that mzee have something in common knowledge of many birds mostly by their sound/singing
    great piece as always

  12. Nice peace Biko,for those who loves birdwatching like me, we need to visit Arabuko Sokoke. I spent every Saturday mornings doing Bird watching for 4 years n I found it interesting compared to sitting in the office on Saturday Morning.

  13. For a moment I thought you don’t love birds. One can only write well on what they are passionate about. Birds are some of the most beautiful creatures on earth, if only one took time to observe them. Most of us are always in a rush to make a living till we forget to live! We think happiness is supposed to be accumulated today in order to be enjoyed tomorrow, so we don’t have time to waste on mundane things like watching a “bloody” bird called Otus irenea! Bird watching, just like smelling flowers, is part of real living.

  14. This one totally got me,,,He would suddenly stop mid-step, ears cocked, then raise one gnawed finger up to command silence, (which convinced me he was the last of the diehard KANU members) and then say in a whisper, “that is the Otus Ireneae – Sokoke Scop Owl , Amazing Read Biko

  15. I don’t love bird watching. hell I don’t know what it means to go bird watching but I would love to build my home in a place with trees that are full of birds that only chirp early in the morning and on Sundays. They should be melodious like I imagine heaven’s morning sounds like.

  16. A tiny tiny correction that wont change the story: Arabuko Sokoke forest is located 110kms north of Mombasa. That makes it North Coast.

  17. First thing. What should I write in that email?
    second thing. man ur the real shit! I thought i am the only who gets lost by words!…

  18. The bi**h should have dissolved to death by now…i mean if its the size of a pea and you have bee on blood thinners #RIPImelda

  19. Otus Ireneae … i’m i imagining or was this bird named after me?but its an owl and all the stories we hear about owls….anyhu
    the next master class is a must attend.

  20. You are hillarious Biko….and that dinner thing happens to me all the time too sigh! lol! wish I could make it on the 7th – 9th

  21. I wanted us to keep moving lest we are eaten by an animal while standing there looking at the bloody Otus Ireneae. I wasn’t just ready to die for an owl, least of all the smallest owl in Africa……Hahahahaha.Nice piece.

  22. “Do you see her there, on that left branch?” I couldn’t see shit, let alone the left branch he was speaking of. But I’d lie that yes, I could see the precious Otus Ireneae and the lovely left branch it perched on. I lied because he was so excited about his birds and I didn’t want to break his heart but also I wanted us to keep moving lest we are eaten by an animal while standing there looking at the bloody Otus Ireneae. I wasn’t just ready to die for an owl, least of all the smallest owl in Africa. (I actually laughed out loud in the office…) Your articles are hilarious…and your way with words is superb…!!!