Samburu and the Version of Me I Met There

Samburu and the Version of Me I Met There

*A Yana Trekkers Overland Odyssey through the wild, the unexpected, and a little bit of self-discovery*

By Sauda Mohamed

Finding the Trip

I have been trying to push my limits lately.

Stepping out of the comfortable, predictable version of my life just to see how far I can actually go. That’s how hiking and fitness crept in. I now know the difference between a sumo squat and a lunge, between reps and sets. Not a gym babe yet, but I’m on my way.

Then, as algorithms do, Instagram handed me exactly what I didn’t know I needed: an advert for Yana Trekkers’ Samburu Overland Odyssey, 31st July to 2nd August.

The timing was uncanny. The budget was friendly. I called the number on the poster and, before I had fully thought it through, I had paid the deposit.

No overthinking. No back and forth. Just a quiet certainty that this was mine to do.

I had never been on an overland truck. I had never set foot in Samburu. I had never hiked Mt. Ololokwe. And it had been far too long since I had sat with strangers and actually talked.

This trip was overdue in every sense.

Day One: Strangers

We left Nairobi painfully early on Friday, 31st July, and I was ready to be surprised in the best way.

It didn’t take long. The quiet strangers on the truck turned loud fast, somewhere between the obligatory “What’s your name?”, “Where are you from?” and a chaotic round of poker that someone confidently called “Bomb ni Bomb.”

We were unreasonably loud for people who had supposedly come to sit back and enjoy the scenery. And the scenery deserved better than us. It was breathtaking, to say the least.

The Overland Truck slowly became our moving living room. We played games, shared snacks, exchanged stories, slept whenever we could and watched Kenya pass by through the windows.

By the time we reached Samburu, hours later, I noticed how familiar it felt. The shrubs. The wide-open land. The cows and goats wandering freely, feeding on plants instead of plastics.

It reminded me of my homeland, and for a moment I felt nostalgic. Then I quickly cancelled that thought. I was there to have fun, not reminisce.

Meeting Samburu

Our first stop was the Samburu cultural village.

It was my first real introduction to the people and culture of the region, and it gave the trip a different kind of depth. Samburu isn't just about landscapes and wildlife. There are people, traditions and stories woven into the land.

After a long day on the road, it was also the perfect way to begin slowing down and settling into the weekend.

And then we caught the sunset.

It stopped me in my tracks.

Magical isn't even the right word.

The sky seemed to stretch forever, painted in shades of gold and orange over the Samburu landscape. It was the kind of ending that makes you trust the day that’s coming next.

That evening ended around the bonfire, with dinner, music, laughter and the first real conversations of what would become an unforgettable weekend.

Day Two: The Climb

Saturday started before most reasonable people would consider it morning.

We were up early for Mt. Ololokwe.

I grew up in the savanna, so elephants roaming nearby isn't new to me, but hearing one move through the bush while you're on foot, knowing there isn't exactly somewhere convenient to hide, was definitely a first.

We started climbing step by step, pretending every photo stop was for the view and not because our lungs needed a break.

Every few minutes someone needed water. Someone else needed encouragement. Someone else needed another photo.

Eventually, though, we made it.

We reached the summit just as the sun began to rise.

This was the whole point for me. This was what pushing my limits actually meant.

The air felt wide and clean in a way I don't have words for. The sky slowly turned orange and gold, spreading light across the landscape below us.

I took photos, of course. A million of them, probably.

But no photo I took will ever do that sunrise justice.

Standing there, I felt lucky and hopeful in a very specific way. If a morning like this exists, then surely better days must still be ahead of me too.

That, right there, healed something. Something I didn't even know needed healing.

From the Mountain to the Water

The way down was kinder than expected, although the heat caught up with us quickly.

By the time we returned, our legs were tired, our shoes were dusty and our bodies were asking very politely for a break.

We answered with swimming.

Back at Lions Cave Camp, plunging into the swimming pool after the hike felt like pressing a reset button.

The tiredness disappeared almost instantly. Well... most of it.

We laughed, talked and cooled off before heading out again.

Later, we made our way to Buffalo Springs.

There was more swimming, more laughter and then the game drive through the spectacular landscape.

Every turn brought another reason to stop. Another animal. Another photograph. Another *“Wait, what is that?”*

Alex, our Yana Trekkers team lead, became our wildlife encyclopedia on wheels. He pointed out animals we would probably have driven past without noticing and explained what we were seeing with an ease that made it clear he knew his craft.

He didn't just tell us what we were looking at. He gave the animals context—their behaviour, their place in the ecosystem and what made the Samburu landscape so special.

Suddenly, the game drive wasn't just about spotting animals.

We were learning to see.

Dinner, Bonfire and Conversations

By evening, we were back at camp.

Dinner was another highlight. I had some of the best food of my life, courtesy of Vee, who somehow managed to cook like a professional chef in the middle of the bush.

What a talent.

But the food wasn't the only thing that made the evening special.

The bonfire came alive again. Music played. People laughed. And the conversations became surprisingly honest.

We talked business and finance. Talents and personalities. Relationships and friendships. Dreams. Choices. Life.

It amazed me how easily strangers could become comfortable with each other in such a short time.

Our tipsy friends, on the other hand, preached. They would later deny it, despite the very available evidence.

I'll leave it there.

Day Three: When the Plan Changed

Sunday morning came far too quickly. It was time to leave camp.

We started our journey towards Reteti Elephant Sanctuary, but Samburu reminded us that adventure doesn't always follow the itinerary.

We got stuck.

Properly stuck.

Our Overland Truck found itself in a riverbed with sand that had absolutely no intention of letting us pass.

We tried getting ourselves out. We really did. But eventually, we accepted that this particular battle required reinforcements.

So we waited for a Land Cruiser to come and pull us out.

And strangely enough, the waiting became one of my favourite parts of the trip.

We found some shade. Music played in the background. And we talked.

No rushing. No schedules. Just conversations.

Business. Life. Relationships. Dreams. Random things. The kind of conversations that happen when nobody is looking at the clock.

And while we waited, Chef Vee somehow managed to perform another miracle.

She prepared lunch. In the bushes. While we were stuck.

I don't know how she did it.

But there we were, stranded in the middle of Samburu, eating a proper meal under the shade.

We even celebrated birthdays with cake.

Because apparently getting stuck in a riverbed is no excuse for missing a birthday.

Eventually, the Land Cruiser arrived and pulled us out.

We didn't make it to Reteti. But somehow, I don't think anyone felt like the day had been wasted.

If anything, the detour gave us something the itinerary couldn't have planned.

Time.

One Last Look at Ololokwe

Once we were back on the road, we continued our journey towards Nairobi.

Then came one last stop.

We pulled over along the highway for photographs with Mt. Ololokwe in the background.

There was something poetic about it.

Just hours earlier, I had been standing on that mountain watching the sunrise. Now I was looking back at it from the road, on my way home.

The mountain stood there, completely indifferent to our departure.

We took photos. We laughed. The music went up. The vibes continued.

And eventually, Samburu became smaller and smaller behind us.

By the time we reached Nairobi, it was late at night.

Everyone was exhausted, but it was the good kind of exhaustion — the kind that comes with a camera roll overflowing, dirty clothes waiting to be washed and a head full of memories.

The Version of Me I Met There

I got back to Nairobi with a heart full, a laundry bag full, a camera roll overflowing and Samburu dust in places I didn't know dust could reach.

I wouldn't trade a single grain of it.

Two days back in the city, and I'm already looking up my next trip with Yana Trekkers.

Because somewhere between Nairobi and Samburu, I realised I hadn't just travelled to a new destination.

I had travelled back to a version of myself I had forgotten.

Maybe that's what the best adventures do.

They don't just take you somewhere new.

Sometimes, they introduce you to yourself again.

The good ones, apparently, you do twice.

Maybe thrice.

To more adventures.

— *Sauda Mohamed*