Imagine staring at a crowd and imagine you loving it. A crown swarming the Lake Amboseli, dotting its clear blue surface with a host of pretty pinks, huddled together in the dawn hush. At the crack of the day, they paint a splash of rose against a canvas of gold, a scene so delicate it feels like a secret.
By dusk, the landscape shifts into a brooding, dark grey, yet those pinks still sit there, quite adamantly. It’s as if they’re refusing to fade with the passing day. Small groups form such amazing sights; that stillness of one leg in the water paints a picture of reflection so perfect, it’s honestly splendid.
We caught them at all times of the day. Quietly pecking into the stillness of the water to find food. And then if you are lucky, you would catch a bunch of them flap their white and pink wings against the perfect Ambosely sky. Lucky are those who witness such beauty.
And as the final slivers of light vanish behind the distant hills, you realise that the true gift of Lake Amboseli isn’t just the sight of the birds themselves, but the perspective they lend to our own hurried lives. There is a profound lesson in the way they simply are—unbothered by the passing of hours, content to stand in the stillness, ready to take flight only when they desire . We spend so much of our existence chasing the next thing, yet here, amidst the reeds and the rose-coloured reflections, the world asks nothing of you but your presence.
Leaving the lakeside as the stars begin to prick through the velvet sky, you feel a peculiar sort of lightness. The “Bedouin mind” is a bit of a restless thing, isn’t it? It is always peering over that next ridge or wondering what lies beyond the horizon, but just for today, it seems to have found a rare moment of anchored peace. You find yourself carrying the warmth of that golden canvas and that defiant, stubborn splash of pink deep in your heart. Actually, it’s a bit of a gentle nudge, isn’t it? A quiet reminder that even when the world starts to feel a touch too grey and monotonous, there are still these odd little pockets of absolute, unadulterated magic just tucked away, waiting for us to stumble upon them. It’s quite a comforting thought to carry back with you. Until that next dawn eventually calls us back to the water’s edge, we shall simply have to hold onto the hush.