By Catherine Wambua Soi

Let me tell you a story about "Kalasinga".

No, not an actual Kalasinga - from the Sikh community. 

Another one - beautiful, proud with black and white patches, a turban like head. Gentle eyes that can fool anyone.

He stood out from the rest because of his patchwork & to me - the eyes.

I met him ever so briefly.... but it was intense.

I will start from the beginning.

We were camping in Wamunyu, Eastern Kenya on a pristine fifty-acre piece of land owned by my cousins Zikki and Ruth Munyao. 

Our view was a dam which often attracts ducks and other birdlife. Monkeys have also been spotted in the surroundings but weirdly enough there are very few crawling bugs including mosquitoes. EUREKA!

Bamboo and other indigenous trees that are many years old provide the shade needed in a region many mistakenly say is dry and harsh.

 There are mango trees everywhere you look. This part of the country produces some of the best mangoes and we were right in time for the mango season.

When we arrived, the hosts took us round the property explaining the turns and twists of the terrain. 

They showed us a cow shed. The family has several head of cattle.

We did not see the Friesians during the tour but Zikki and Ruth made a point of warning us about one particular bull -the no nonsense "Kalasinga" with a penchant for charging at anyone and anything unprovoked.

So, when I went for my morning jog, I was very aware of my surroundings and the big bully bull.

 I did not see him on my way out, but I did see the rest of the animals and tried to make my presence known to the herdsman, Njoroge.

 Well, let's just say I failed to properly catch his attention because what the hosts did not tell us is that Njoroge has a hearing disability. 

I moved on thinking to myself "if I don't approach the cows, Kalasinga will not feel threatened"

Boy was I wrong. On my way back to camp I spotted Kalasinga with the rest of the herd. They were "peacefully" grazing behind the shed..."all good" I said to myself, adjusted my earphones, pumped up my music as I wound down my jog. I casually glanced back and there he was in all his aggression charging at me.

My adrenaline kicked in pretty fast. I sprinted like my life depended on it -I think it really did.

Right about then I also started screaming. Now I'm not a screamer so from my mind's perspective it sounded more like a squeal, a poor one. 

It however seemed to do the trick. I think Kalasinga met his match. That scream or squeal or whatever stopped him right on his tracks. I on the other was a bunch of nerves and still high on adrenaline so I did not stop till I got back to the campsite.

We joked about Kalasinga's temper and his dislike of anything he is not familiar with. 

That's farm life -you meet all sorts. My encounter with the patched, beautiful, angry bull was one of the highlights.

 When I saw "Kalasinga" again as we were leaving our serenity, heading back to the hustle and bustle of the city, I told myself that somehow, I will one day get him to like me.

See, I'm a big animal lover and I'm yet to meet one that I cannot charm and one day, maybe, just maybe, I'll turn that aggressive beast into a mushy, cuddly teddy bear.

 But on hindsight......NOT! 

Catherine Wambua-Soi is Al Jazeera's East and Central Africa producer. She covers Kenya, Somalia, Ethiopia, DR Congo, Sudan, South Sudan, Eritrea, Djibouti, Central African Republic, Burundi, Tanzania, and Uganda. She was nominated for an EMMY award for our news coverage in Burkina Faso in 2019.