Just a Misunderstood Neighbour

There was laughter before the snakes arrived. Not the relaxed kind, but the nervous kind. The kind people use when they are unsure whether to sit closer to the door or pretend they are calm. Chairs shuffled. Someone joked about photographing from outside. No one left. In the Mara, snakes are part of life.

That morning at Angama Mara, the team gathered for a snake awareness and handling session led by the Taylor Ashe Antivenom Foundation, a Watamu-based organisation focused on snakebite education and prevention across Kenya. They brought more than theory. They brought experience shaped by their real encounters. They welcomed the most misunderstood guests, live snakes. The mood shifted.

The first lesson was simple but powerful. Most snakes want nothing to do with us. Identification comes first. Understanding whether they are venomous is crucial. Recognising behaviour before reaction and what not to do. Panic, we learned, is often the real danger.

The trainers spoke calmly, dismantling myths many of us had grown up with. Not every snake is deadly. Not every encounter requires action. Sometimes the safest response is to keep a distance and call trained handlers.

As a photographer, I usually observe quietly from the edges. But this time, I was both observer and participant.

Then came the practical session. The room quietened. Hooks extended cautiously, and every movement had to be deliberate. Watching colleagues step forward, some hesitant, some surprisingly confident, revealed a different side of the people I work with every day.

One teammate who had earlier sworn they would never go near a snake found themselves gently guiding one across the floor. Another discovered that nervous laughter disappears the moment focus takes over.

There were moments of held breath, followed by relief as each snake moved safely into a container. Respect replaced fear. Understanding replaced assumption. What struck me most was how quickly perception changed. The snake was no longer “the danger in the room,” but simply another creature trying to exist, misunderstood more often than threatening.

Living and working in the Mara means sharing space with wildlife. This training was not for show. It was preparation. Angama invests deeply in ensuring its team feels confident and safe in an environment that remains beautifully wild and unpredictable. By empowering the people who care for guests daily, the lodge extends that safety outward to everyone who visits.

I have always loved snakes. Now, I respect them more. They are not enemies to be feared or killed. They are part of the ecosystem that makes this landscape whole. Sometimes all they need is patience, space, and the right hands to guide them back where they belong.

As we left the room, the laughter returned. Lighter this time. Not because the snakes were gone, but because we understood them.