P n J's Adventures of Kenya............part I

Kenya's Indian Ocean

The border guy looked 25 but told us he was 50. Marta said that I`d better look like that when I`m his age. I still don`t know if he was joking or not. I also don`t know if Peter was joking or not when he seemingly tried to sabotage my entry by declaring: “Are you going to accept that colonial bullying“, making a reference to my paying for the visa in British Pounds!

Kenyan Border official: "Enjoy your TOWEL"

Except for the Hilton in Addis, the last time we had seen a cash point was back in Egypt. After paying our visas, we had barely enough cash between the four of us to have a light snack here and get to the next town. Over 4 teas and 4 samosas, Ingunn proceeds to turn her face. “What`s the matter“, I ask her?
“It`s the Tea. It tastes like fish“!
Consequently no one touched their drinks.

From then on Ingunn was on: "Detecting hot drinks for FISHY smell" detail

Though it was still bright and early, today there were no buses. On this particular border, the usual way for people to get around was by CATTLE TRUCK. There were at least 5 such monstrous trucks, carting what I presumed to be Ethiopian cows in all directions of the country. We were headed towards the Indian Ocean resorts of Mombasa, so our Truck was the one which would drop us in Garissa, a town reached by running close to the Somali border. We were assured there was an ATM there. “How far is Garissa“, we asked.
“You won’t be there before dark“, was the vague reply.

Ingunn might be all giggles and joy now. The truck hasn't started yet!!

It was now 10am. It gets dark around 6ish. Eight hours on the cattle truck. That`s do-able, we desperately tried to convince ourselves and each other. I don`t know how you picture travelling by cattle truck. But let me tell you EXACTLY what it entails! First of all the truck is carrying 16 cows, all cramped in a space where in Europe they might carry 7 or 8. An animal rights activist would instantly drop dead off a heart attack if they even saw it on film!

Close you're eyes animal activists!!!

The bars criss-crossing the so called open roof, were less than a meter from the horns of the cows. As for the passengers, 10 people squish into what should be space for 5 and you cannot even dangle your legs, lest a horn put a hole through your leg. There was no space for me there, so I was relegated to the metal bars where our bags were tentatively dangling.

Scenes from the "GREAT CATTLE TRUCK RIDE"

When you hear about the poor condition of the roads in 3rd world countries, then let it be known that our journey would be undertaken in the top worst 1% of such roads.
The driver didn`t seem to notice, he took us along at high speeds nonetheless. Together all these factors meant that to remain on the vehicle and survive the incessant bumping up and down, sometimes violently, one had to hang on. And when I say hang on, I mean for dear life. It wasn`t a matter of grip for comfort or balancing purposes. It was so as not to get flung 50 feet in the air from a vehicle travelling at high speed, to land under the wheels of the truck, or worse, arse end on the horn of one of the beasts below.

More scenes from the GCTR

For the first hour we would catch looks from one another. Each an expression of: “This isn`t so bad“! At the passing of each hour, so did the furor of the facial expressions, until finally we were looking desperately for someone to crack, so that they in turn could relent. No one did.

Just before sunset we pull into “Typhoid town“, so called by us, because someone on our truck told us only to eat packaged foods: “The whole town has Typhoid“, he added. Too bad for us, we were now down to our last cents. We had to eat the local muck. With each bite I could see everyone fearfully trying to remember if in all those jabs back home, “did I get the Typhoid injection?”

OK. You can open your eyes again animal lovers...............ONLY JOKING!!!!

It was getting dark. By our calculations we should be arriving very soon. The reality was VERY different. Back on the truck we now faced an added adversary. Fighting off sleep! The ultimatum was: fall asleep – you die. Regardless, the extreme exhaustion meant invariably one of us would doze for maybe a few seconds, but awoken violently by the alien feeling of weightlessness, just in time to catch a bar and stay aboard.

A wise message from "Typhiod Town"

Some time in the middle of the night, when we were all just about thinking: That's it! I've had enough! I'm letting go! I don't care what happens! I WANT TO DIE................we were offered a mini respite. A lone giraffe elegantly glides in front of us, then, as big as they are, disappeared into the night as unassuming as it had appeared.

We all had our variant methods of taking ourselves mentally out of our physical situation; there was no other way to bear it. Peter assumed the illusion of: “This is my job, this is my living“. After a degrading comment to the cows made by one of the girls, Peter in all earnest interjects: “What do you mean forget about the cows. The cows are our primary objective. We have to deliver them unharmed and on time!
Ingunn confessed her escapism was to think perpetually about sex. Marta was being sneaky and wouldn’t tell us hers. My thoughts were thus: “If they can do it, I can do it. If they can do it, I can do it. If they can do it, I can do it……………………..etc

SEVENTEEN hours later we pull into Garissa. We scramble off the truck our hands resembling those of cripples, naturally, after so many hours of furious clenching

Ingunn buys a whole Mango for less then 5 us cents!

We didn`t have a penny between us. No matter. Up ahead we can see the 24 ATM. The prophecy had come true. Almost. The machine was out of order! Luckily we convinced the bus company that we would pay on arrival, using our telephones as deposits.

Safe and Alive, we celebrate our GCTR success with a traditional Kenyan beer.

2 hours short of our destination: Mombasa, we arrive in Malindi. Also on the coast, we unanimously decide to alight here. Showered and newly fed, we wander the quaint streets of this ex-Italian colony hardly believing what we had just endured. It already didn`t seem real. Malindi, however, was not the place for swimming in the Ocean. Tomorrow to Mombasa!

Tasting the local sugar cane.

Cafe delicious in Malindi. If I owned a cafe, I would totally call it that!

We arrive much later than planned and were resigned to spending the night here rather than continuing on to the resorts 15km further south. Our first Cosmopolitan city in a long while, we can do such things as go bowling or go to the cinema. Pure luxury! During the colonial era, subjects of the empire were frequently moved around. Consequently herds of Indians arrived in Kenya, none more so than in Mombasa. That night we ate Indian food. The next morning we whizzed around the sights, including the “Tusks“ and Fort Jesus. At the ticket gate, I managed to convince the officer not only that I was a black african, but a poor student one at that. We paid almost nothing to get in.

The Tusks of Mombasa

Scenes from Fort Jesus

We enquired about Safari prices as there were loads of travel agents. We took some numbers and said we would be in touch. I still wasn`t sure I could afford myself 300 dollars just to see a lion. At least that`s how Jurgen had phrased it back in the Simians. “Travelling Africa for 6 months you will inevitably see all the animals: Elephants, giraffes, zebras, hippos etc. If you want to see a lion though, you have to go to a National Park. These trips cost at best 300 dollars. I`m not paying that just to see a lion!” I was undecided.

Chillaxing in my hammock

View from our balcony

Less than an hour from the congestion and noise of the city, you find yourself on the 10km stretch of Diani beach. Lined with all the 4 and 5 star resorts, for all the package holiday makers from Europe, at the very end of the beach we find affordable beach chalets. We rented our own detached fully self contained chalets right on the beach. I sling my hammock and the four of us spend the next 5 days chillaxing to the max by the pure white sands of the Indian Ocean. Fully deserved!

Our beach chalet

Masai warrior on the beach

The days were very lazy, spent mostly going between our balcony and the beach. If we were feeling adventurous we might venture down to the Forty Thieves bar and catch up on some Premiership football. At night to the nightclub Shack Attack, where poor sun burnt Peter had not the energy to turn away a prostitute accosting him on one side, nor a guy on the other begging for a beer.

Poor sunburnt Peter

One night Peter comes home with a surprise. A bag full of live crabs. Each weighing well over a kilo. “Do you know how to cook and eat a crab? “, I asked.
“No idea“
“Me neither. No better way to find out“.
That night both of us committed murder for the first time. Our method: boiling to death. How evil we are. I could swear I detected a hint of delight in Peter as he went about his massacre. I`m glad I`m bunked up with Marta! I`m locking our door tonight!

Peter brings home a crab!

Marta helps with the preparations

Most people who go on Safari in Kenya will have been to Masai Mara. I`m sure when the girls had decided to come to Kenya, they had envisaged a visit to that park. Because we were coming from Mombasa to Nairobi, we would be by passing two National Parks already. It seemed logical then, that we should visit one of these parks. It turns out that there is a package offering both. 3 days 2 nights. We called one of the contacts we made in Mombasa. Humphrey. He was going to pick us up from our chalet the next morning. As I went to sleep, I knew that the next day I was probably going to see a lion in the wild.

Peter commits his first ever kill!!!!

To be continued:::::::::::::::::::

Coming up next

P n J`s Adventures of Kenya part II………………. aka Running away from a lion....................

P n J`s Adventures of Ethiopia

Typical Ethiopian Scene

P n J`s Adventures of Ethiopia

“Where is your registration? “ The Sudan immigration were none too impressed with us.
“Fifty dollars or no stamp! No leave Sudan! “This wasn`t a bribe. This was official. So much red tape in Sudan! I had an idea……… We could try and cross the little stream separating Sudan from Ethiopia and see what they say over in Ethiopia.

It's not only Madonna adopting in Africa

Crossing this stream was not only the simple matter of crossing from one country into another. It was more like traversing continents, planets even. Sudan had seemed more like a part of Arabia in its culture, language. The people (this is true for the parts of Sudan we visited – the North) were not black and even the deserts breath the word Arabia. Officially Peter and I had been in Africa a month, but only now, arriving in Ethiopia, did it finally feel like it.

Finally in AFRICA!!!

The young immigration officer was dressed in jeans and fashionable jacket. He seemed coy, shy even. We tell him The Sudan are trying to “illegally“get fifty dollars off each of us. Can he please just give us our stamp and let us through. His brow dropped, and we tell could tell he was brooding over this tough question. It took 20 minutes and two officers to comply, but finally, they ever so kindly turned a blind eye to our lack of exit visas and stamped us in. “Enjoy the festival“.

Timkat festival gets underway

One of the biggest annual parades, Timkat, was taking place everywhere in Ethiopia. This meant it was difficult to travel today, so we enjoyed the festivities in nearby border town Shehidi. A couple of local school teachers showed us around their village, their school and introduced us to some of their students.

Local teachers and their school

We tasted local beer; somehow Peter and Mike managed to drink a whole pint. Then the teachers introduced us to the local food: Injeera. Later, for reasons of appearance, we came to nickname it “Towel“.

Peter unimpressed by "Towel"

The next day we headed to Gonder, the ancient capital of the kingdom. A month of grotesque fuul, and now towel! Peter had had enough. He drags me and Mike into a western restaurant. At these Ethiopian prices, neither of us put up a fight. Like in western restaurants we were served bread as an accompaniment to our meals. Mike proceeded to consume all his, then mine, then Peter`s slices. We called him “Loaf“from then on.

Ancient city of Gonder

The Timkat festival was still raging wild. Thousands of people were charging up and down the streets with sticks in their hands. Exactly how you imagine it look in Africa everywhere, every day we joked. Only here without the violence, they were celebrating.

"Everyday Africa"

A year and half earlier in Sweden, Peter and I were trying to hitch from Stockholm to Gothenburg. For the last three hours of the journey we were picked up by a mother and daughter on their way to a Justin Timberlake concert. They were both super hot. On parting we exchanged Facebook details. Like with any other of the thousands of lifts I have had, I will never see them again. One night on the Facebook chat, Marta, the daughter, asks me where she should go on holiday in January. Come and visit us in Ethiopia and Kenya, I joked.

Marta

Marta and her Norwegian friend Ingunn arrive in Gonder and meet us in our hotel around noon. They are both students in Warsaw taking a sneaky 3 week break between semesters. It was so weird and exciting to see Marta again.

The Scandinavians: Marta and Ingunn

Enjoying the cheapest beer in the world?

We had been in Ethiopia three days, so we knew the lowdown. We knew where to get the best macchiato, donuts, samosas and all manners of food and drink. The most wonderful legacy any colony has left anywhere (except for the French and their baguettes in Laos) is that during the Italian occupation of Ethiopia, they introduced coffee, lattes, espressos and the beloved macchiato. You can find these massive coffee machines in every corner of the country, whether in big cities or puny villages. They serve macchiato. And at such a negligent price, I think we had at least 10 a day each.

Our beloved MACCHIATO

Draft beer was also the cheapest on the continent, and though Marta and Ingunn must have been jet lagged, we partied all through the night on local beer, until it was time to board the 5am bus north. We were off on a camping and trekking expedition to the Simian Mountains.

The Simians

A convoy of 5, we became 6 when we met Jurgen the German. Jurgen is the type of traveler who is bred to cope with the demands and trials of Africa. He doesn’t rush anything, often he could stay in one village for over a month. This was his second visit to the area and if you saw him from a distance with his backpack on, you would think he had been walking the earth for over 10 years.

Jurgen

Our Kalashnikov wielding guide

Good. We now had someone with us in the mountains who knew had to survive – in this instance make a fire and cook. We had a guide, but he didn`t speak a word of English. He was merely there to show us the way and protect us with his Kalashnikov against any human or animal attacks.

Scenes from the Simians

The region is famous for its roaming baboons. They can found be sitting there in families of 50 or so, chewing on things they find in the ground. We saw hundreds of them. We were on a three day, two night trek and the hours upon hours of arduous up and down trekking were made pleasant because of the terrific panoramas offered almost every step of the way.

Baboons

Because we were at a high altitude it took hours to boil water for making rice, pasta and tea. Every night around the camp fire, over a hearty meal prepared for solely by Jurgen, we scoffed our faces, giggled and chatted until the wood was all burnt out, when we`d creep into our tents and go to sleep. Or try to. Even though we had rented extra sleeping bags, the temperatures at night were below freezing. We were divided into two tents, I, with the girls, so I got to snuggle up all night to Marta. The giggles carried on through the night.

More scenes from the Simians

Back down the mountains we now had to organise to get ourselves to Bahar Dar. Usually this means going to the bus station at a ridiculous time in the morning, 4 or 5am, then waiting around for hours for it fill up twice over.

Buses regularly breakdown

Crossing Crocodile Creek

Aside from being a picturesque town on the shores of Lake Tana, there were two special reasons for being there. Nearby Blue Nile falls, spectacular water fall a few kilometers from the source of the Nile. The source then, being the other attraction.

Chartering a boat

To see it you have to charter a little boat across Tana, on the way visiting one of the centuries old island Monasteries. At the source it is possible to see Hippos, but it was getting late, so we had to head back into the sunset, for which we were prepared with a beer each in hand.

Monastery on the Island

At the monastery

Apart from a very brief Italian occupation, Ethiopia is one of the few countries in the world to have little influence from the outside world and so it has kept many of its traditions. It was only now the millennium, for example. Where we measure time according (roughly) to the sun being at it peak height in the sky marking the 1st hour (afternoon – 1pm) the Ethiopians mark hour one as the first hour they arise in the morning.

Blue Nile Falls

When we were told the bus to the nations capital - Addis Ababa - was leaving at 10 o'clock the next morning we were delighted. It was our last night with Loaf, so we could party the night away. Until we realised it was 10am local time. That's 4am to you and me. Suddenly everyone felt sick. Sorry Loaf, it was probably the Towel. See ya in a few years...................

Blue Nile Falls

Peter`s brother Simon was married to Chloe Webber. Chloe`s parents lived and worked for the EU in Addis Ababa. There is a massive expat community here, and somehow or other, it seems to all revolve around the Hilton hotel. It was there we would meet the Webbers.

Blue Nile Boys

They took us under their wing. We went on a driving tour of the city visiting such places as Merkel square, famously the practice grounds for the next “great Ethiopian runner“. We visited their house, where thanks to Peter`s brother Simon, the washing machine was on high alert. So yes, when we met them in the Hilton, the four of us had arrived there, scruffy as we are anyway, but also with bags of filthy laundry!

Ethiopia's capital - Addis Ababa

Next, it was time to visit the night life. The Webbers had been here for almost 4 years. They knew everyone and everywhere. We started the evening back at the Hilton. It was happy hour. All night they wouldn`t let any of us buy a single drink. They very kindly paid for everything, including the Chinese meal we had. The evening was topped off with a visit to a local bar where all kinds of traditional dance and music were performed including the miraculous ability to vibrate ones chest in the same way a hummingbird can flap its wings.

Our Hotel "Itague Taitu" in Addis

During one of those awkward farewells kisses where you’re not sure whether to shake hands, hug, kiss; if you kiss, is it just one side? if so which side first? In the mayhem of saying goodbye to Mrs. Webber, I kiss her not once, but TWICE on the LIPS. I quickly looked over at her husband to offer some kind of an apology, but luckily he didn`t see. I think I caught a disgusted glance from Peter: “I can`t take you anywhere“, he seemed to say!

The kindly, wonderful Webbers

Before we left Addis we paid a visit to the National Museum. Outside it we found ourselves humming the Beatles tune: “Lucy in the sky with diamonds“.
Some decades ago in a desert part of Ethiopia, archeologists had made a discovery that would change the history books. On human’s incessant quest to find out where we came from, one piece of the puzzle had just been pieced together. The remains of a millennia old bipod, a little girl remains. At the time in the camp, the Beatle song was playing on the radio. She became known to world as “Lucy“.

Lucy

Then to while away the afternoon, the girls went shopping, while Peter and I went on a horse ride in the nearby hills. Among the chance of spotting a hyena, Peter was desperate to spot a bird which had evaded him (but not me -hah) back in the Simians’: the Lammergeyer – a large bearded vulture.

On the way up the hill we saw these poor young girls carrying heavy loads

Peter galloping in hunt of a Lammergeyer

I have a condition. My simple way of life means that I view economics and mathematics thus: the less I spend = the longer I last. Often if I am to treat myself to something as basic as a “nice“ hotel, or a “nice“ restaurant, rather than a dive and local muck; I have to build myself up to do it. More often, just thinking that I will do it is enough, that later I can back out, but still having derived some kind of pleasure, merely because at one point for whoever long (a day, an hour?) I had conceded to doing it. And so while the others are having a last night in town meal in Ethiopia’s best restaurant (an 8 dollar meal perhaps), where royalty and Brad Pitt have frequented, I am scavenging the street for scraps.

I might feed myself scraps, but when Marta is sick - It's breakfast in bed!

Our aim was now to get to the Kenyan border. Though only a short distance away it would take us 3 days to get there. On the way we stopped for the night in small villages where they hardly ever spotted a “Ferangi“, foreigner. Peter reported that on returning from the shops, one kid had skipped all the way home with him, chanting the word: “ferangi, ferangi, ferangi, ferangi...................“

Locals in the villages

When we finally reached the border, we had a dilemma. We had just enough birr (Ethiopian currency) left to spend the night and eat in Ethiopia. But the borders opened at different times which meant we would lose 2 hours the next day. Thankfully the Ethiopian border said they would stamp us out today, but let us stay until tomorrow? That seemed weird. Just to make sure we went to speak with the Kenyan official. He said we should just come on over to his wonderful country now. We explained about the money. “Fine“, he said. “Enjoy your towel (Injeera)! See you tomorrow at 07:30.

Last scrap of Towel - Injeera

Next up

P n J`s Adventures (with the Scandinavians) of KENYA