I am trying to get an account of our time in Uganda and our first day in Nairobi together. We seem to be doing more than my lengthy accounts can keep up with. It's been really amazing, and Christmas day turned out to be a fantastic surprise that I couldn't ewait to share.
Today has surely been one of the most amazing days I have had in a long time. It reminds me why I travel and how the people of the world truly are one.
I woke up early this morning and felt pretty out of it. Eventually we got up and made our way back to the Nairobi Java House for another breakfast and coffee. Gametrackers, the safari company that we wanted to talk to the day before, had a few safari vehicles gearing up to head out that morning. As we sipped coffee, I once again started having very mixed emotions about whether I should go or not.
Robert had checked out their rates and for $370 each we could buy onto a 4-day Masai Mara Safari right then. I couldn't seem to get it out of my head that I had come all the way to Africa and potentially was not going to go out on a safari. In previous travels and life in general I have skipped over particluar things because of their perceived high cost at the time. In those few instances I've looked back and and realized that the money would have meant very little versus the value of the experience. That was the rush I was succuumbing to. In that short moment I decided once again that I did want to go on a safari.
I rushed back into the office and reconfirmed that there was still space available. The office was quite nice, but the young woman working seemed a tad overwhelmed. Trying to add myself and Robert into the mix didn't seem to be boding itself too well with the people who had signed up in advance and had been told they'd be on the road by then.
Just as the woman was juggling some other people's paperwork and was trying to process my credit car, I once again got the feeling that going on the safari was a terrible mistake. For one, the entire reason we wanted to go on more of a private safari inn the first place was that we weren't particularly interested in going with complete strangers. And, some of the complete strangers had already begun to complain. In addition, I was hungry for some exercise and this was going to be a driving safari. Furthermore, the straw that broke the camel's back was a middle-aged woman sitting in the office was relaying that she had some friends who had just returned from a Masai Mara safari on Friday and hadn't seen much wildlife because of the wet weather. Luckily the office manager was having a bit of trouble with my credit card and I used that as an excuse to bail on the thing entirely.
I returned to the hotel where Robert had taken our breakfast and explained the situation to him. He was relieved, and as we sat in our room and ate the breakfast he'd grabbed as take-away I realized that I was too. It took that final process of seeing the other people going and hearing the negative stories of the lack of wildlife to cement into my head that the decision we'd reached by yesterday's end was actually the correct decision.
We waited in our hotel room until the gametracker's safari vehicles had gone, and then returned to the Java House for another cup of coffee. It was really strange that it was Christmas morning. I am not a huge fan of the holiday, but it was still very weird that our celebration of it was starting in a coffee shop in Nairobi.
The same cab driver who had driven us to the Ethiopian restaurant the night before gave us a lift to the matatu park. We found the departing mini-buses for Lake Naivasha, paid our 250Ksh ($4) each and boarded. By the time I found a toilet and returned, the mini-bus was ready to go.
This matatu was not nearly as packed as the ones we'd seen before. It could be because it seemed to be operated as a direct line between Nairobi and Navashu. There were a fixed number of seays and they would not be stopping to pick up additional people along the way. Robert and I were on the back bench with a young woman in an NBA shirt. I struck up a conversation.
Njeri (Jerry) was her name and she was returning to her home town from Nairobi. Her English was good, but not excellent, and I presumed she was heading to Naivasha (final destination was her hometown). I made the normal small talk that is expected of people sitting next to one another in the small confines of the mini-bus. She was wearing a shirt with an NBA logo and she indicated that she played basketball in high school. Eventually she asked me if Robert and I would like to come to her family's house for Christmas. I tentatively agreed, knowing that we had an hour ride to decide to accept the invitation or make up an excuse.
The ride itself wasn't terribly uncomfortable. This was actually our first real matatu ride. It's always strange traveling without a real sense of the topography that I am traveling over. In the US and Europe I've driven or traveled the roads enough to know if we are headed through mountains or if the road will be straight and flat. That said, the on and off drizzle that existed in Nairobi quickly became a downpour once we got outside of the city. We deduced that we must've been climbing over a pass because soon enough there was a very thick fog which encompassed the vehicle.
Sitting just in front of me was a kenyan man with a very good command of English. In fact, english is one of the official languages here and almost everyone understands and speaks it. Many of the people speak with an accent that is easy on the ears, but occasionally you'll meet someone like this man where you can tell he's had a lot of interaction with people whose native tongue is English. He was quite opinionated and as we watched the runoff from the pouring rain zoom down the gulley next to the main road he spouted facts about Kenya's inability to take advantage of its natural resources. He expressed himself in the tone of a man who felt despair towards his own country. The same education that led to his command of English also put him in the fortunate position to be able to weigh immediate gain (ie villagers cutting down forests) versus long term sustainability.
Eventually we emerged from the pass and barreled down a long straight away towards the lake. Though it wan't sunny and bright, the area in the basin which contained the lake was dry.
We emerged from our matatu in the small town of Naivasha and accepted Njeri's invitation to accompany her to her family's house. Like any good guests, Robert asked what we might be able to bring as a gift. We proceeded past some aggressive "street boys" (youngsters living on the streets and begging for change) towards the mian market. It was Christmas day but the supermarket was packed. Robert left me outside to guard our bags and emerged a half an hour later with a gallon (approximately 4 liter) jug of orange drink and a bag of staples: rice, flour, etc. We really had no idea what we were in for. Were we headed to a house in town? Would it be nice? It was impossible to tell, but the ability to visit a local's house was too good of an opportunity to pass up.
We returned to the matatu park at which we'd arrived and boared an empty mini-bus. As is commonplace, we waited a few minutes for it to fill up and then we were on our way. Neither of us had a clue exactly where we were going, and we were only given and indication that it was named Highlands and it was 30 minutes away. After a short trip on the main road heading back to Nairobi we turned onto a smaller road. We began to climb a bit and soon enough the pavement gave way to a dirt road. 5 minutes later we exited the matatu and began walking. Less than 5 minutes into the walk it began raining pretty hard. Though the idea of getting my clothes and everything in my semi-waterproof backpack soaking wet wasn't exactly what I wished for Christmas, I reminded myself that we were going to be having a meal with an African family.
We hiked and hiked through some beautiful countryside. We spotted a waterfall in the cliffs far off in the distance. Little did we know it at the time, but that was very close to our final destination. Eventually we cut off of the dirt road in favor of shortcuts through farms. I had absolutely no clue what to expect of where we were headed. My mind alternated between a modest farm house and a hidden mansion deep in the hills. I was wrong with both guesses. As Njeri called out from the edge of the fence line of her family's property we could see small goats and chickens running around in the yard. As her mother returned her greeting their mud walled and tin roofed home came into view. There were a number of young, inquisitive faces poking from the entrance. Njeri's Aunt Tabitha (Tabby) helped take our wet bags and invited us into the house. We were asked to sit on the foam cushioned bench serving as the main piece of furniture in the living room. Njeri took a seat in a foam padded chair next to the bench and her mother sat in a chair across from us. The five children whose anglicized names I've still forgotten huddled in the corner closest to their mother.
Njeri offered for us to warm ourselves around a very small coal burner on the floor. I was amazed as I glanced around the room. The hardened mud walls had newpaper pages sporadically pinned to them. In addition there were a few posters on the walls - a one page, yearly calendar and another with pictures of African leaders. The inventory of the rest of the 50 square foot room was a small "coffee" table and a dresser. There was one door in two of the four corners of the room, presumably leading to separate bedrooms.
The small kitchen where her mother cooked was detached from this main structure and the outhouse containing the pit toilet was just down the hill from the main buildings.
We were served a wonderful meal consisting of grilled whole skin potatoes (which we peeled to remove the charcoal burns), a mix of cabbage and potatoes, and chapati bread. Njeri had boiled chicken in addition to this. I took a small portion at first because I thought this meal was feeding the entire family. However, after I cleaned my bowl rather rapidly I was told to eat more - the others had already eaten. I was quite thankful because the rushed toast and coffee breakfast hardly prepared me for the 45 minute hike we completed in order to reach Njeri's house with our large packs on our backs.
We had a blast over the next hour or so, taking pictures of the younsters and showing them the playback in the digital camera's review screen, showing them pictures of Robert's friends and family on his phone and showing a few of them the game "brick breaker" on my blackberry. Njeri, Tabby, Njeri's brother John and his friend who'd arrived, looking like they'd partied most of the nightn while we were drinking tea were all very inquisitive. They all wanted to know about us and our families. We told them that they were all celebrating Christmas back home, though their frame of reference could hardly allow them to envision christmas in the US. To them Christmas and the day after were solely about spending time with their loved ones; the idea of presents wasn't even on their radars.
Eventually, though, we recognized that we needed to leave. We had a lengthy hike back to where we would pick up the matatu back to Naivasha town and needed to continue on towards our intended destination of Lake Naivasha from there.
The hike back was extremely muddy. It rained intermittently the entire time we were in Highlands and it did a number on the roads. We sloshed and trodded but I had a nice conversation with Njeri's 17 year old brother John. Though he now lived in Nairobi for work purposes, he had dreams of going back to school. I wasn't 100% clear on how everything worked, but I gathered that the passing of their father a little more than a year ago had added to the financial strain on the family. John pointed out the various crops growing on the fams we passed. The "cash" crop was one which was used in bug killers, but onions and potatoes were present as well. John also had extensive knowledge of the various species of trees growing along the side of the road. It was interesting that a kid half my age knew so much about these staples of life.
An hour after leaving the house we all said our goodbyes for the final time. No one seemed sad, other than the fact that they wished we'd have been able to see the waterfall near their house. We opted for two spots in a shared taxi instead of waiting even longer for a matatu, and just like that we were headed back to our Mazungu (White Man's) traveller's lives.
In Naivasha town we caught a matatu towards the few camp grounds on the south side of Lake Naivasha. The sun was setting amongst the lingering grey clouds and the beauty allowed me to take my mind off of the huge pack that was on my lap. We were let off at a popular spot called "Fisherman's Camp.". The office was amidst a bit of chaos when we arrived and the campground was an extension of this. Overwhelmed after our day in the quiet village of Highlands we opted to head back towards the town of Naivasha and stay at the YMCA camp.
It was much quieter there and we were treated very kindly. Instead of crawling into a rented tent like we would've done at Fisherman's Camp we were shown to the newest room on the YMCA camp. We were fed a hearty meal on our porch. Upon finishing our meals Robert and I expressed how elated we were at how our Christmas had turned out. Just then, as if on cue, we looked at a small Afican child who was staying with his family in the room next door. He was on their porch playing with a remote control car - the sight of which made us both smile as it was as near an American Christmas sight we'd seen all day.
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I hope all of you had a wonderful Christmas! Please forward to anyone you wish.
Love,
Mike
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