🦁 What is Lion Tracking in the Maasai Mara?

What you’ll learn and do:

Lion tracking in the Maasai Mara offers a uniquely immersive way to experience the wild. Rather than simply observing from a distance, I had the opportunity to follow the movements and behaviors of lions with the help of an expert safari guide deeply familiar with the prides of the region. While this wasn’t part of a formal conservation research team, it felt just as meaningful—especially given my strong connection to Kenya and my deep appreciation for the Mara’s quieter, rain-washed seasons. These intimate, respectful encounters allow for a deeper understanding of the landscape and its wild inhabitants, which is what makes the experience truly unforgettable.

The Hunt- “A Witness to the Wild"

What I witnessed was one of nature’s most raw and emotionally complex dramas—It wasn’t just about a hunt- it was layered, and a true test of both my observational eye and empathy.

Moments like that stay with me. They're hard to process because they force you to sit inside that uncomfortable space between beauty and brutality, instinct and suffering.

It was my last day in the Masai Mara. The kind of morning that feels like a quiet farewell—the light soft, the air thick with the scent of distant rain. I didn’t expect to see what I saw. I wasn’t ready for it, not really. Meaning, I had seen hunts before, but this really superseded what I was about to witness.

A group of young male lions had found an old buffalo—separated from the larger herds, moving through the plains with a few other bulls, each of them outcasts in their own way. These weren’t the strong, dominant beasts of the prime herds. They were survivors, bonded by age and exclusion.

The young male lions struck. A blur of muscle, dust, and instinct. The old bull fought back with everything he had. His companions, grizzled and scarred, didn’t run. They tried to save him. Again and again, they charged, scattering the lions, forming a wall of old strength. But time is cruel in the wild, and eventually, even loyalty has limits.

Then came the hyenas.

An army of them, their hackles raised, their calls piercing the air like sirens from another world. It went through me—not just the sound, but the chaos. The hyenas weren’t just scavengers. They were contenders, clashing with the lions over a kill that hadn’t yet come. The lines between predator and prey blurred in the dust.

And then—a strange shift. The young lions gave up? Or rested for a while? They walked off, settled under a tree like nothing had happened. It was surreal. For a moment, the old buffalo stood again. Torn, bleeding, but alive.

All the hyenas continued nipping at the poor buffalo, there was no escape. And then, the lionesses came.

The entire pride, silent and focused. The hyenas suddenly scattered into the brush, watching but not daring. The females surrounded the buffalo. For two long hours, they watched him. Waited. He stood alone, exhausted, still defiant. 

And finally, when he ran—perhaps hoping for one last chance—they took him down.

The whole scene lasted three and a half hours. A drawn-out struggle. A slow unraveling. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever witnessed in the wild.

I never like to see suffering. As much as I understand the rhythm of life out here, the raw necessity of the hunt, I still felt for that buffalo. I still do.

But the pride fed that day. After who knows how long without food, the lions—mothers, cubs, the whole lineage—ate. And in that, there was something else: relief. The wheel turned, the wild endured.

This is what the Mara does—it shows you the truth, unedited. It doesn't flinch, and it doesn’t let you look away. And when you leave, you carry it with you—not just the footage or the photographs, but the feeling of it. This is the kind of sighting that reminds you just how complex wildlife is. Raw and unforgettable. And that’s what stays.

The Hob House Coast – Malindi’s Hidden Treasure

One of the brightest highlights of my time on the Kenyan coast was spending time with my dear friend Kelly Aburi—the chef, host, and visionary behind The Hob House Coast in Malindi.

Her restaurant is a haven of authentic Lebanese flavors, with each dish prepared with heart, heritage, and an artist’s touch. But The Hob House is more than just a place to eat—it’s a beautifully designed bed & breakfast, where every room feels like a personal sanctuary, carefully curated with warmth and intention.

Just steps away are stretches of white sand beaches and clear turquoise waters—the kind that quiet the noise and slow the soul.



The Malindi coast has long held a special place in my heart, and Kelly’s space captures its essence perfectly: vibrant, nourishing, rooted in culture and friendship. If you ever find yourself on the Swahili coast, this is one stop you won’t want to miss.