Surrounded by bush, the Bunkhouse was a club outside of Nairobi and next to the Nairobi National Park (for the record, there are no fences around the park to keep the animals in, it is just a designated area). The family would venture there to sunbathe, swim, ride and in my father’s case, have a drink at the bar.
As for myself, I didn’t need to sunbathe as my skin was almost black.
Attached to the club was a stable where you could hire a horse and ride the many ‘safe’ trails.
My sister mounted her horse intending to join the rest of the riding group. But as she did so, the horse bolted. She found herself galloping into the bush away from the others. By the time she had brought the horse to a halt, she was amongst a herd of zebras. It took her nearly an hour to return to the group and every minute was spent looking over her shoulder for predators.
I too went riding and found myself looking around in trepidation as I came across the remains of a zebra, well, just the one leg, I was lucky my horse still had four and could return me to the stables in one piece.