Culture, music and animals collide for a premier festival in the Kenyan bush…

This post comes to us from writer/traveler and FP friend Ariane Marder.

I’ve done my share of festivals: Lollapalooza, Bonnaroo, Governor’s Ball. But nothing compared to what I would experience at Kenya’s first ever “Wilder Festival,” an untamed weekend on the shores of Lake Elementaita.

This year’s inaugural event was slated to be a mini burning man-style, invite-only extravaganza on the 48,0000-acre Soysambu Conservation, complete with bands, international DJs, flowing cocktails, camel rides, hot air balloons, horse riding and over-the-top fashion— a celebration of Kenya’s bewitching nature and unbridled spirit. The same spirit—a tantalizing mix of danger, passion and aliveness— that drew me to East Africa in the first place: a spell that lures expats from around the world and keeps the Kenyan-born from leaving for good.

At the helm was the notorious duo, “Lord and Lady of the Manor” Sally Dudmesh and her partner Tom Cholodromery, whose own checkered past was documented in Vanity Fair for an alleged murder on the same property years ago. This weekend, though, there wouldn’t be murmurings of any supposed wrongdoings. Everyone was here to celebrate, dance and play.

And play we did.

On Friday, my friend Shanley and I packed up the Land Cruiser (when in Rome) and set our compass northwest, making our way out of Nairobi. On our right was the seemingly endless Great Rift Valley, home to tales of seduction and scandal worthy of movie rights, while ahead we battled bodabodas (motorbikes) and oncoming traffic, a never-ending game of chicken.

We arrived tired and sweaty, just in time to settle into our tent before a deluge hit, forcing us all to take cover. Captive, we unpacked our feather dresses and wine, laughing at the rain as we ran to the tented long drop, at the loud, already messy group to our right and at the unexpectedness of it all. I fell into a collective spirit of abandonment. We were all here to let go of our inhibitions, and get Wilder, together.

As the sky cleared, everyone emerged fresh, ready to explore the terrain without an agenda or any set expectations. We danced with new friends on the edge of the Lake, spotting birds, catching glimpses of Saturday’s hot air balloon preparations, and hearing stories of lifetimes, tribes and parties gone by.

We spent the next morning seeking shade in cozy nests, having our tarot cards read, wading in baby pools and devouring juicy burgers from the food truck in anticipation for the day’s main event. The theme was red. Everyone invited was told to bring his A-game and encouraged to do justice to the festival’s name, Wilder.

We complicity understood we’d be joining the leagues of creatives, both local and ex-pat, and we didn’t want to fall short. I called in the forces: Yolanda McIntyre for a suede Masai-beaded dress and my friend Ambica Shah, who makes amazing feather jewelry for one of her huge, outrageously beautiful ear cuffs.

True to form, Ambica arrived on a dirt bike bedecked in a huge feather collar, which she made herself out of ostrich feathers. Shanley and I took turns posing with a disgruntled camel adorned with pom-poms and led by Masai handlers. The sun set, leaving ribbons of color over Lake Elementaita while a hot air balloon took off overhead. In the waning light, a drone flew over the shores to take a group of the festivalgoers decked in fiery red. Women in red dresses rode down the path outlined with giant red horns, which later were set ablaze in a fantastic show. At night, we gathered around the bonfire as music from the Nile Project, an international band made up of eleven members born alongside the famed river, drew the costumed crowd to the dance floor.

By Sunday, we had reached our camping limit, craving electricity and a shower that wasn’t from a bucket. Bleary eyed from too many cocktails with names like Buffalo, Big 5 and Gazelle, Shanley and I made our way to the Zen Zone, a healing oasis with pillows, kanga fabric and hay bales, ordered fresh green juices and planted face first onto the massage tables. The night before we arrived, a leopard was spotted hauling an impala up the tree and the carcass, merely hide now, hung in a branch above us: a singular reminder from the animal kingdom that, indeed, the best way to live is always wild and free.