The Crop Circles of Ngong

Across the ridge from where I live is a gently undulating grassland that cheers the senses and gives one the feeling that all is well with the world. In stark contrast to the brick and mortar surrounding me, broken occasionally by beautiful trees and live fences, the grassland is undisturbed and its sole purpose seems to be a sight for sore eyes, and a wonder for morning or evening walks.

My view to the open land used to be wider and even more majestic until some developer decided to break away from custom and theme of the area and put up a six floor monstrosity that is not even promising to be beautiful when complete. The result was that half the view I enjoyed to the open fields was instantly blocked, and that of Ngong Hills along with it. Well, enjoy the beauty around you while you still can, it may not last forever.

I can hardly begrudge the developer his pursuit unless I want to start a Western style protest over preservation of skylines and footpaths - which, by the way, is not entirely a bad idea. I’m sure our law has a building code for each area, I’m just not sure what it is for my area so I’ll let it pass.

Before the monstrosity took my silent pleasure away, from my first floor flat I could see the Ngong Hills towering majestically on one side, and the grass fields dancing on the other. The tall, willowy grass swayed gently to the wind forming beautiful patterns that were visible even across the two miles or so from my house.

At first I didn’t realize it was the grass. When it bent to one side it would form a white wave against the rest of the green background; then it would sway the other way and the pattern would follow. In the undefined swirl of the wind, soon the waves acquired magical forms, movements and patterns, and I found myself mesmerized, caught up in wonder, gazing intently trying to figure out what was this phenomenon I was witnessing.

‘Crop circles?’ I wondered, having watched myriad programs attempting to explain the mystery of weird patterns found on corn and other grain fields. ‘Sheep?’ was my next guess but, hard as I looked these simply did not look like sheep. They would have to be so many, moving gently like waves in the ocean. Now goats and sheep may huddle together but they are not known for such daintiness.

Eventually my curiosity took the better of me and I fetched my camcorder from the house. I was going to crack the mystery of this beautiful sight. I put my camera on zoom and there it was… beautiful patterns, circular, wavy and all sorts of shapes, constantly moving, never ending never stopping. It was the grass! It was tall, in an open field, and it swayed almost constantly to the gentle breeze forming a continuous gentle wave that followed the wind wherever it went.

I remember calling my husband to tell him I had cracked the mystery of crop circles. The mystery was not that crops moved, the mystery would be what was the force that led the crops to move and form whatever patterns they created?  In my case it was simply the wind. No mystery, no little men from the sky, no gravity - simply the wind! I’m sure in most other cases of crop circles it was simply the wind.

We were so taken by this sight that my husband and I filmed it for a while. It was wonderful to watch, relaxing, uplifting and at the same time calming the senses.

Later I decided I did not want to watch this magic from afar any more and took a walk into the open fields. It turned out the fields are part of Kenya government property (Livestock Ministry to be precise) though they are left open enough for people to walk through and even picnic if they dare – it’s a bit deserted. The ministry grazes its many cattle across this vastness, which explains why every evening people from Ngong area flock the ranch to buy milk.

This turned out to be the most refreshing walk I ever had. The fields opened up before me, letting out their secret, the mystery fading a little but still deeply captivating. Their beauty was not in the mystery, their beauty was inherent, not to go away unless the grass fields are ravaged. I discovered a gentle valley with little pools of water; a small wooded area occupied one side of the valley, and the gentle ascent to the side so visible from my house now towered before me. And the grass moved, now even more visible… As usual it continued to move to the wind – swaying, dancing, singing, waving, forming heavenly patterns like one just entered the gates of pearl: Crop patterns – not circles, correction!

Now I’m sure the Maasais of Ngong have always known about this phenomenon, having lived in this area for many years. But where I grew up there were no open fields – only farms; and the grass was always short – never tall and willowy. The wind moved only the trees and bushes, never grass. So for me this was, still is, a novelty. And I love it every time!