On August 6, 1999, I boarded an airliner and flew through the night to Paris. Three hours after arriving, I began the next leg of the trip to Nairobi, Kenya.
I was traveling on business for a company that excelled at spending, so the flight was comfortable and the accommodations even more so. We were lodged at the Stanley Hotel, a five-star enterprise at the corner of Kenyatta Avenue and Kimathi Street that began in 1902.
We were in Africa to prepare to launch a satellite radio product that had potential to break demographic barriers, deliver entertainment to people within three vast beam footprints, and provide distance learning to even the most remote areas.
Email home. Tuesday, August 10.
"Andarge, our photographer friend, came in late last night. This morning we went to a Masai market. There were all sorts of handicrafts spread out on blankets on a barren hillside.
As soon as we arrived, they split the four of us and took us to different parts of the bazaar. It was mayhem. People constantly tugged on our sleeves and said, "Me next. Okay? You come with me next."
One person would hand us off to another so that we were constantly moved throughout the marketplace, but rarely crossed one another's path. It was very interesting.
I was able to pick up a couple of things, but I think I paid too much. My dollar-to-shilling conversion sense isn't quite as quick as their sales patter. Anyway, I learned and I had an enjoyable time. We came back to the hotel and planned out our remaining time here.
This afternoon we will drive to different parts of the city meeting printing and production vendors and taking photographs."
Present day memory.
The year of our visit, a drought forced a group of Masai to moved their livestock south sooner than usual. They were set up just outside Nairobi. We arranged a visit. Their homes were made of branches and used manure and mud as wattle to weatherproof them. They built fires in the center of the structures and burned manure as well as any available plants that would burn. A smoke hole at the top of the structure allowed smoke to escape, although there was still a strong smoky smell inside. The smoke was supposed to keep flies and bugs away.
Despite the impression one might get from these photos, the tribal leader had gone to university, then returned to his people to lead them. As with any people, assumptions and underestimating are not advised.
When I was in high school, we built feed troughs for livestock. When we visited the Masai village, I noticed similar troughs for their livestock. A point of commonality. It only takes one to encourage looking for others.
Email home. Saturday, August 14.
"Okay. I've been out of the loop and working hard until today. We originally thought today would be a play day. It worked so well, however, that I'm certain we'll be using many of the photos Andarge took for corporate materials to give that genuine African flavor (that's flavour in Kenya, thank you very much).
We left midmorning and drove (flew) over roads that make Washington, DC look like a freshly paved parking lot. Of course, we're in Kenya, so we drive on the left unless another whim strikes.
Our driver was George. He was a great guide. Really. But he was also our driver. George is evidently a man of strong faith who would like nothing better than to meet his Maker. Soon. I suppose he expects brownie points for carpooling to the Pearly Gates.
Okay. Here are the rules:
1) a. Drive on the left. If the road surface there is too broken down, then drive on what's left, which generally is the right. b. Bear in mind that this lane may be occupied. If so, blink your headlights. Somebody will give way.
2) Passing is an art. It can only be developed with continuous practice. There's no better time than the present.
3) You've obviously mastered passing in an open lane. Don't be a shrinking violet. Try it on a hill. Remember, all the gusto is found by passing on a hill into a blind curve. See 1b. The meek shall inherit the earth. It's Heaven we're after. Remember?
4) Yield to major road obstructions (police checkpoints, debris, etc.). Pedestrians move under their own power and are not part of this category.
5) The world is full of options. If both lanes are full, the shoulders are on of those options.
6) Music soothes the savage beast. Honk.
7) Emission controls probably impede your progress. Can't we do without them?
8) Right-of-way means just what it says. Your rights. Your way. Go for it.
That's pretty much Kenyan driving-for-hire in a nutshell. There's not much to it. Like they say in Swahili, Hakuna matata (no problems). I'm sure you'll do fine.
We went to a national wildlife park in Nakuru. Mike, Andarge, and I piled into the rental van--innocents abroad, as it were--and settled int for some fitful rest. In no time at all, it became blind terror, but that ended in exhausted slumber broken only by a bouncing descent onto the dusty shoulder. We fell out of the van and walked out onto a deck built into the hillside.
Having seen local construction practices (if you studied lashing in Boy Scouts, you know EXACTLY what I'm talking about. Scaffolding--even six stories high--is poles that have been lashed together) I went out with some trepidation. But it was worth it.
I had awakened to be shown a view of Kenya's Great Rift Valley. Even in the muted mistiness of a Kenyan morning, it was stunning. We looked down onto a patchwork of small farm plots and tiny clusters of houses that seemed to extend forever. In the distance were three mountains. In the foreground, a railroad track crossed at the very foot of the mountain we were on. The air was cool and moist. Fog hung in the branches of nearby trees.
9) Oh, yes. Rule 9. It's your business and only your business where you're going and even where you are at the moment. If it's foggy or daylight is waning and you turn your headlights on, you'll only be telling everybody your business. We don't want that now, do we?
Magically, a smiling man appeared at my elbow. "Jambo. Come here. Come here. Come with me. I show you some carvings. Is beautiful, no? You my first customer today. I make you special deal. Okay? Okay."
"Oh, boy," I thought. "Here we go again." I learned, though, that being cranky can save you money. I got all scriptural and let my no be no. Then I scurried back into the van and shut the door. It almost made getting back onto the road again bearable."
Eventually, which I suppose means without any events worth mentioning, we arrived in Nakuru. There, we stopped at Midland Hotel for lunch. We were going to simply get coffee, but they served hot water and Nescafe in packets, so we sent it back and ordered Cokes.
Be aware that there is still a place in the world where Coke is served in the bottle, as God intended it. That place is Kenya.
There is also a place where domestic fowl are cooked on a spit, also as God intended it. That place is not Boston Market, Kenny Roger's Roasters, or any other yuppie feeding trough. It's the Midland Hotel, built in 1977 and serving fine chicken, freshly fried potatoes (which may well have been brought into town in a very large bag tied to the back of somebody's bicycle), and a lousy cup of Nescafe powder. But we share a half of a chicken and two plates of fries, sent merrily to their appropriate resting place on a tide of carbonated water and caramel coloring pouring so very properly from a thick glass bottle. And we did it for less than four dollars. While this ain't exactly loaves and fishes material, we're heading in the right direction.
After our meal, we put the top up on the van. Most of the roof of the van is a fiberglass panel that pops up. Should one happen across the King of Beasts, this marvelous feature allows one to see the King's dinner rather than be the King's dinner. I rather liked that thoughtful touch.
When we arrived at the park, we stopped just inside the gate and looked at a group of delightful little monkeys with black faces. Mike and I both posed with them while Andarge took our photos. Then Mike and Andarge walked off. I decided to stay with the van. I closed the sliding door and sat down. From that vantage point I could look just past the driver's headrest into the bright eyes of one monkey who realized that the open window was an invitation for him to sit on the driver's door. He soon scampered onto the windshield and I stood up in case he was headed into the van through the open roof. He was. He barked at me. Poor thing. He was probably frightened. I know I was. So I quickly sat down. After all, I only outweighed him by 215 pounds and it wouldn't have been nice to have pressed my advantage. Fortunately, he left, my companions came back, and we headed into the park.
We saw warthogs, antelope, gazelles, a white rhino and her calf, giraffes, water buffalo, flamingo, guinea hens, monkeys, baboons, dear, and tourists. We tried to go up one road, but the van got hung up on a rock. We were en route to Lion Hill at the time, so it was with even greater trepidation than earlier in the day that I got out to push. No lions. And no memento vendors. So, all in all, that was a fairly decent stop.
We spent about three wonderful, restful, thoroughly enjoyable hours in the park. Andarge go some pictures that we are so excited about. We can hardly wait to get to Johannesburg so we can get the film developed. After the park, we spent two harrowing hours reviewing the Kenyan rules for driving. George was incredibly gracious. Earlier, Mike had earnestly asked to drive more slowly and refrain from passing. I don't know if it was the quaver in Mike's voice or my wide-eyed, unblinking stare, but he did settle down some on the return trip. Not enough, mind you, but some.
So we returned to the hotel, had a splendid hot shower--in our respective rooms--and met for dinner. After dinner, I came into the office to prepare for a little work in the morning and to record the day's adventures. So, there it is. Hakuna matata. God bless."
I did a little bit of growing on this trip. Certainly, my world view expanded. I noticed differences, but seeing them in context I'd like to think I became less judgmental. More understanding. More appreciative. I still have room for growth. I'd go in a minute if somebody offered me the chance to do this again.
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