Trip to Kitale

Although there is now a 3x-weekly flight from Nairobi to Kitale, I opted for the smaller carbon footprint, and immensely more interesting version of taking the bus. Picked from my host’s house in Karen at 6:30am, I got a ride to the bus station downtown… smooth sailing for 20 minutes, and traffic jams for the last 30.

BUT, I would like to argue that traffic jams are in fact good for the local economy and small scale enterprises. Between the rows of standstill traffic, evenly spaced every 2-3 cars, young men were slowly walking carrying what looked like the contents of a variety store. Belts, purses, air fresheners, driving license holders, pyramids of tupperware tied up with string, Japanese fans, newspapers… you name it, you can get it on your morning commute. How convenient. Now, if they were only selling cups of chai or coffee, that would be something!

The bus company I used, ‘Easy Coach’, is an upper-end one, meaning presumably they service their vehicles more often than other companies, resulting in fewer breakdowns at the side of the road. The more money you pay, the greater the chance you will arrive on time and in one piece. So, for just under $20 I got a 6-hour bus ride from Nairobi through Nakuru and Eldoret, to Kitale. The first third, to Nakuru, was smooth… the roads were good enough I could spend the whole time legibly writing in my journal. After that, it was nothing but dust and bone jarring bumps, as drivers navigated the roads and overtook slower vehicles, often while going up hills (yikes…).

I saw several IDP camps, still filled with people several months after the disturbances, by Naivasha and between Nakuru and Eldoret. They are waiting for the government to free up some land so they can resettle somewhere else. Just like that. I'll write more later as I piece together the root causes for the disturbances in this area.

For me, by far the most disturbing thing was the first and worst town that I realised had obviously had people chased out of. Molo must have had at one time a population at least half Kikuyu, or at least a business population at least half Kikuyu (the tribe of the President). Their houses were not only burned, but totally destroyed.. it looke like a bomb had blown up or a crane's wrecking ball employed because whole walls were missing, and only foundations left in some places. Imagine living in a town with such ugly scars, reminding you of long-time neighbours that were killed simply because of their ethnicity. I later learned that the reason the cement-block walls were gone was because people likely have subsequently carried the blocks elsewhere to build their own new house.

I just can't imagine it. Charred shops and houses were a mainstay in nearly every town I passed from there until Kitale, though, miraculously, Kitale was spared completely of ethnic violence.

Upon arrival in Kitale I was met by Chege Bernard, a VP at the school whose family I had gotten to know well from last visit. I was so happy to see him just because he was a familar, friendly face, and a Kikuyu one at that- I had been quite concerned for the safety of his family during the disturbances- but also happy because it meant I did not need to choose between the swarm of taxi drivers who surrounded me the moment I stepped off the bus!

At ICM I have a suite of rooms, including two bedrooms (5 bds in all plus a desk), a small kitchen with a gas cooker, electric kettle and fridge, and a small washroom with a flush toilet and a shower who's highest force is 'drip', which it did whether it was on or off... I think it was fixed today. It is great to be back on familiar ground, and see so many familiar faces, who remember me fondly :)

Nairobbery

Ah, Nairobi. I like this place, but I feel you really need to learn how to ‘dance’ in order to survive it well. Maybe ‘dance’ should be ‘crowd surf’ or ‘go with the flow’ (this term really takes on new meaning with the never ending streams of people in the weekdays). I learned the hard way that standing still in one place for too long is not a good idea, even if it is to wait for traffic to clear to cross a street. Just like a man I met with who had half a samosa (African kind- thin and oily pastry, and filled with ground beef rather than the thick-pastry vegetarian variety I see in Canada) liberated from his hand by a swift and wily bird while we dined in an outdoor eatery by Nairobi National Park on Tuesday, I had one of my earrings swiftly removed from my ear while paused at a crosswalk in the middle of rush hour, surrounded by people. Of course in this case it was a skilled street boy, ironically one of the few I saw (where have they all gone? The streets seemed strangely void of both street boys/ people and hawkers). My first impression upon feeling hands up around my ear lobes was ‘Oh- I know what this is, they are distracting me to go for my bag…’. So, I grabbed my bag tight and after a second or two realized I still had it but my ears hurt a bit. After walking to cross the street I felt my ears, and sure enough, one of my small gold coloured hoop earrings was gone, leaving me looking like a lost pirate.

Every time that I return from ‘Nairobbery’ with everything intact, I consider it a small victory, so considering I have spent in total maybe 25 days downtown Nairobi in all my trips, and this was the first time anything was ever stolen, I feel like I have fared okay. My purse was what I was more concerned about, and since that was fine, I didn’t mind relinquishing a small earring. In fact, my first response upon realizing it was gone, was to throw the other one at the fleeing boy too, because what good is one side of a set of earrings? But I restrained, fearing someone might still be lurking to grab my bag if I let go of it. I was a bit shaken up, but there was really nothing I could do, so I just resumed crowd-surfing and relaxed on the bus.

The second casualty of the trip, which I discovered much later, was my small leather elephant keychain. It looks like it was cut off. Well, I hope it makes some kid happy as a toy, because it has always brought me smiles. It was so cute.

Sunday

Today, after a breakfast of white bread, jam, margarine, chai and fruit I piled into the family vehicle with Stephen and Rosalyne, their three kids and Selinah, who helps around the house and with the kids. If they can afford it, most families here have at least one person helping around the house. It is a method of employing people… in between jobs? Or.. not too sure… in this case, the Selinah hopes to go to college in September, and is just working for them for a few months. Often people hire someone from their own ‘community’ (tribe), or extended family. There is also a man who helps in the house, cooking, and doing outdoor work who was there when I was there last time, as well as two brothers who are staying with the family. The house is fairly large to fit all those people plus have a room for me.

As we drove I tried to recognize and /or memorise different landmarks that would help me with navigation later. The roads aren’t on any sort of grid system, so memorizing landmarks and intersections is the best way to go. We did a zig-zag pattern to their church, and parked in the outdoor parking lot. This church was a medium sized one, next to a HUGE one. Still, it was made of bricks, and to my surprise, had a large underground parking area. Tagging along with Selinah, we sat down on stacking chairs in a big auditorium, at the tail end of the first service. It was a very smooth transition between services… there was very little blank air time as the auditorium emptied and filled again.

After a few songs the speaker came, but did not preach a sermon. Instead he told a story of how he came to know of the Christian God. He had grown up in a village not too far from a major town in the 1960’s, and was being groomed to be the village witchdoctor. His grandparents each held the prominent witchdoctor/ sorcerer type roles in the community, and people regularly sought them out to cast spells on people etc. He said his grandmother had special trinkets from India, Pakistan, and China, where she had flown in the nights, after putting the villagers under a deep curse. But this man one day heard a voice talking to him in the middle of one of their all night worship sessions, telling him that this was not the right way to go… so he left, slept, and while the others slept the next morning, he used his father’s radio to listen to a broadcast about Jesus… he came to know the ‘God of the Radio’, who made much more sense to him than the God of his grandparents. Two years later, upon being introduced to his first church, he was unsure at first who the God would be that they spoke about.. the god of his grandparents, the God of the radio, or another one? Anyways, now he is a pastor, so I guess he found out.

After church Selinah and I headed into town… It was her first time to Nairobi, as she had just arrived in Karen less than a month ago, and people don’t normally go downtown if they can afford to do business elsewhere. She is from Mt. Elgon, and knows many of the people I met when I was there last time (although, under unpleasant circumstances… many of the people I knew and wrote about in previous posts have fled their homes, many of which were burned or destroyed by rebels, and made refuge in her town, which is further away from the violence). So, I was a tour guide for a Kenyan in their capital city!

We were treated to a lovely lunch by a man I delivered a package to for one of my professor’s at home. He is Luo, so he took us for a Luo lunch of fried fish (the whole fish, eyeballs too) and 'indigenous vegetables', a catch all name for many green leafy things cooked thoroughly.

Bought a bus ticket, then went to the memorial grounds of the US Embassy that was bombed in 1998. It was interesting to see all the appeals for peace written there, especially in light of the recent upsets here.

Poster in the 1998 bombing memorial- “Just as these ladies wear jewelry, we should wear peace, because it is a jewel!

Poem found there… line breaks added- the original was written in six continuous posters, with no breaks.

Drums for Peace

I write down these words to make it look like poetry

I write to tell you that I hope you are in good hands

I write to tell you that I remember that fateful day

The day was warm and the sky was clear.

Then boom! There was a blast in the heart of the city

That day thousands of people gave up their spirits

Seven times they called out to the sun, that seventh day that our world broke

Bang! Pi pii!

Drivers jumped out of moving vehicles

That unforgettable day that our streets lined with broken glass that shattered

our peace of mind

our hearts

our world

I ask these three words

When? How? Why?

When can I show you how to love?

I write to tell you that to talk and be peaceful is possible

To live is a gift and a right

It is possible in the heart of chaos and in the middle of turmoil

To be brown or black is just a colour

To have opinions and ideas is nature and natural

I write to tell you peace is pure, peace is perfect

Peace is like morning, peace is a new beginning

Peace is like dew that brings change to dry grass

Peace is like colours bringing joy and life

Peace is precious, peace preserves life

Peace is music to the sould

Peace is forever etched in beauty

Nilifika!

...Which means I have arrived! I am back on Kenyan soil, and Kenyan soil is back on me! (it's quite dusty here... hasn't rained in a while, although it is 'rainy season'(?).

After a tearful goodbye, a couple long flights with a lovely 8-hour layover in London where I got to visit some friends of mine from Victoria, I arrived, tired, at the Nairobi airport at 6am! Wow. I'm really back. Everything just feels familiar now, on my third time over. This means that I may not be able to write things that other people would find interesting, since a lot of it seems just old hat to me now, not as many surprises or shocks.

I got picked up by Philip, a staff member of ICM (International Christian Ministries, who own the school where I will have my lodging during my research in Kitale), who drove the back roads, right next to the Nairobi National Park to the Mairori house where I am lucky enough to stay for my time in Nairobi (friends of my friends David and Alison in Victoria). We spoke of politics, what it was like in January during the disturbances here, and what it is looking like in the future. I knew Philip from my last visit here, and I knew he would give me a more realistic version than some I had gathered elsewhere before I got here.

After breakfast and a shower I... did not go to bed. No way! I went into town!! Although drowsy, I had enough of my wits about me to navigate passably. I bought a cheap cell phone and some notebooks at a supermarket, found an internet cafe and a good cup of Kenyan chai for sustenance, and eventually made it to the museum, one of my destinations for the day.

I wandered first though, because although I must have walked from downtown to the museum tens of times before, this time it felt like nothing was familiar, like all the old landmarks had changed. Maybe it was my drowsiness, or maybe it was my bad sense of directions... I couldn't find anything familiar, but I did recognise where I had been, which is why I knew I was in circles. I didn't want to make the circles too big because there are some streets further away I didn't want to wander down by accident (I never did see those streets, but I had seen them on previous trips, when I was with other people). Finally, I asked a traffic person where the museum was. He didn't know, so he asked a man with shrivelled feet, in a hybrid of a self-propelled tricycle (pedalled with his hands) and a wheelchair. He asked if I could walk there.. I said yes, and then we were off. He 'drove' on the road, and I walked fast on the sidewalk... when we crossed busy streets it was perfect because he was like a shield for me. My technique for crossing busy streets is to wait until someone who is more confident than me (pretty much anyone) starts to walk. Then I walk on the opposite side of them (so cars would hit them first), and walk at the same pace. This guy was a bigger shield than just one person!

We went on a very busy road, which is not at all the way that I usually went, but eventually we got there. Once at the museum I saw my normal route, which is actually just one long straight line to downtown- only one turn, which follows a curve in the road (start on Moi ave and go straight!!). I had walked on and past that road ten times that day, without knowing it was the key to get where I wanted to go!

At the museum I looked up a friend who works there, but she was not in. I also bought Mike and I a family year membership to Nature Kenya, which gets us monthly newsletters (email) plus free admission to all the museums in Kenya... there are maybe 15 of them(?). It is a super deal, since adult admission to the Nairobi museum is KSh800 each (x2=1600) but the membership cost only Ksh1400. Cool, eh? And it supports a great charity.

After walking back to town (about 20 minutes) I caught a bus home to where I was staying (about 30-40 minutes?) in Karen, a posh suburb with lots of trees and big houses. The bus I caught was from the company 'CitiHoppa'. If I remember correctly, this bus was amazing and plush and fancy two years ago, but doesn't look like it has had any repairs or upkeep since then! So now it is just a larger, quieter and receipt-giving version of the rambunctious matatus (minivans packed with 15 people).

I stayed up til 8pm, then slept for 13 hours. Ahh... it's amazing what a difference sleep makes!! After a leisurely morning with the kids in the family (the girls only, the older boy, in grade 7 needed to go to school for Saturday morning!), I am now in the little center of Karen. Perhaps I'll go the Karen Blixen's home next, on my free Museum admission, which is just around the corner from my hosts!

The plan for now is to meet with people related to stoves on Monday (maybe Tuesday too), and travel to Kitale on Tuesday (maybe Wednesday) by bus. Then I'll start in on this masters research! More about that later!