An Adventurous Weekend in Nairobi (2)

Next morning, Tom and I headed out to the Mtumba- the huge market near my house, then off to lunch with Tom's English student (who he poached from me).

After lunch, we were headed to the Nairobi Expats Christmas party.  Food, drink, and secret santa.  Tom and I had come armed with alcoholic magnets, and had actually stuck to the price limit we were set.  More fool us.

We stepped into the party, which turned out to be an elite group of people invited to a posh sit-down meal.  Tom and I lowered the average age by at least 10 years.  It was a strictly invite only affair - with only 15-ish people there.  How on earth had we gotten invited?!

And of course, the secret santa- oh the secret santa- there was a pile of large presents under the tree, to which we had to slope up and deposit our clearly ridiculously deficient joke presents.

The food was amazing, we ate and drank our way through a million different types of food: none of it traditional Christmas dinner, but rather an eclectic mix of largely Asian and African food.  Nicely rounded off with mince pies :-)  By this time we had all also consumed copious amounts of wine, and were feeling very jolly.

It was at this point, that "disaster" struck.  Tom's infamous shoulder hopped back out again.  Luckily, a nice lady at the table turned out to be an occupational therapist, and was right on hand to check the shoulder, and tie it up into a proper sling.  However, bless Tom, once again in agony, he passed out on the sofa.  Immediately I wanted to call a cab to take him home, however - let him sleep, everyone advised me.  If you wake him now, he'll just be in agony.  He will come round when his body can face it.

So we stayed a while, Tom drifting in and out (mostly out) of consciousness.  Secret Santa took place - where I was given a set of Zebra table place mats, and Tom was given a lovely photo album.

Then things got weird - we were THROWN OUT, of the Christmas party.  The host lady came up to me and announced that I'm the worst girlfriend in the world for not taking better care of my partner, and that I clearly do not care about his well being.  Furthermore, she cannot accept having such an ill person in her house, so we must leave right away.  We had to practically carry Tom out onto the street, where he and I sat on the curb waiting for a taxi.  At this point I was having the worst asthma attack of my life.  All watched by the kind Uche- providing assistance and moral support.  We don't do things by halves, Tom and I :-)

On Sunday we got up, and headed out to Paradise Lost with our friend Michael.  We had a lovely picnic, and walked around/under the beautiful waterfalls there.  There is also a stone-age cave system, that we walked around...creepy.

In the evening we went to the Windsor Hotel, a massive colonial luxury hotel and golf course.  Non-members are allowed to go and sit on the terrace over the golf course and have drinks and meals.  So we headed out for a beer, feeling particularly white.  After drinks we headed to an Indian restaurant (due to my moaning about missing Indian food).  I had to hand it to Michael, he did take us to an exquisite place.  All in all, an eventful and lovely weekend in Nairobi :-)

An Adventurous Weekend in Nairobi (1)

This weekend we decided to take a week off exploring the country- given Tom's shoulder, and my terrible cold.  So we spent one of our rare weekends in Nairobi.

On Friday I moved house, and moved in with Paul.  Paul is a very interesting and fun person- an AIDS activist who enjoys drinking and partying as much as I do.  I will take this opportunity to share with you one of Paul's gems:  the end of AIDS is in sight, as a new clinical trial has established that specific early treatment of couples where only one partner has HIV can reduce the chance of sexual transmission by 96% - effectively halting sexual transmission of HIV.  Please read the following link, my explanation doesn't do this justice: http://www.hptn.org/index.htm

So on Friday night we headed out to a local bar to celebrate my new home, and room mate.  It was so much fun, we definitely danced the night away.  Relatively early (around midnight), Tom and I decided to go home - a 5 minute walk.

Having walked a couple of hundred metres, we were stopped by a group of men wearing hoodies and shabby clothes.  "Stop, we're the police, and we need you to accompany us to the police station."  Like heck were they police.  I asked for their ID's - one handed over a card stating his blood group.  I asked for their names, so I would be able to take it up with their superiors.  They natuarally, refused to provide names.  Where are your uniforms and rifles? I asked, one guy lifted his jumper to reveal a gun tucked into his trousers.  We were in a situation.  "Sir, Madam, we need you to accompany us to the station right now, down this street." (Imagine the tiniest, darkest, most overgrown alley way you can).  There was no way I could let them get me down that alley.

So I walked onto the middle of the road, and stopped in front of the oncoming traffic.  A nice gentleman immediately stopped, and I asked him to call the police for me urgently, as I was being attacked.  The man was concerned, and go on his phone straight away.  However, as it was ringing, the oafs trying to mug us started shouting at the man in Kiswahili.  (Damn it that I don't speak well enough yet to have understood).  All of a sudden, the man's attitude changed, and he hung up the phone.  "You don't need the police, they are the police- go with them down that street!"  Clearly, he had been bribed.

So with nothing else for it, hoping that surprise would throw them, I turned and sprinted as fast as I could back towards the bar.  Tom caught up, and while I was stopping due to asthma, he dragged me back into the bar, where we asked the security guards to get us a taxi.  I hate to think what those men were planning.

All's well that ends well, though.  3 months in Nairobi, and that's the first time I have been the target of any criminal behaviour.

School Sports Day

Having finished exams, the last couple of days of term are spent in games - both intellectual and physical.  So on Wednesday when I turned up to teach, I was actually confronted with the whole school sat outside with a huge pub quiz type game going on.

The school was divided into four teams, with each round calling upon a different representative from each group.  For example:  pick a year 4 from your team, and send them up to the stage.  I did my best to avoid the teachers' rounds, as they were clearly completely biased in a way that no white  person would be able to answer the questions.  One round involved a big sheet covered in photos of black people, the question being:  name the people.  They were all provincial county councillors and the like...

The only points I actually managed to win for my team were based on the questions:  "Who is the founder of facebook?"  and, "Who is the founder of Windows?"

To my amazement, the whole school immediately recognised the flag of South Sudan, and knew what the acronym UNHCR stands for...

After quiz time, was sports day... so we all trudged out onto the nearby playing field (used as a grazing spot for cows).  Little did I expect what was in store for me.

The kids ran their races against children of the same class in the other teams.  Boy can Kenyan kids run.  And more to the point, the sheer excitement and commitment to the activity was awesome.  I don't think in the UK you could ever hear such loud cheering and absolute intense excitement over running races.  On an amusing  side note:  there was also a race for the fattest kids in each group- "because they need to be encouraged to do exercise".  Mincing their words is something that Kenyans do not do.

Much to my horror, they then announced the race for female teachers.  I felt the blood drain from my face.  Me, the only mzungu, running against all the Kenyans???  This was going to be humiliating.  I protested as much as I could, but at the end of the day, you can't be a spoil sport can you?  So I walked up to the starting line, to much giggling and clapping from the school united.

All the other ladies kicked off their shoes - apparently its much easier to run bare foot.  I could see this was going to be a serious race.  And, GO, we were off.  Immediately I watched many of the teachers shoot off ahead - this humiliation was going to be worse than I thought.  But going round the first bend I noticed that I was by no means actually last!

We were running along, having to dodge grazing cows - and I couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation.  All of a sudden it came to my attention that the whole school was chanting one name:  TEA-CHER-GA-BI TEA-CHER-GA-BI!!  Bless them.  Clearly a mzungu running was causing more amusement than I imagined.  And what was more, rounding the next corner, I noticed that along the fence- loads of passers by on the street had stopped, and as I passed, everyone was shouting "Run Mzungu, Run!!"

I can't explain the atmosphere of this sports day.  I just think it's nothing you will ever experience in Europe.  It also probably explains why Kenyans are such good runners:  from a young age, it forms one of the most exciting aspects of school life.  The sheer support and participation of the "crowd" was amazing.

Reaching the finish line, it turned out I was third.  Numbers 1 and 2 walked off, while the whole school ran up and mobbed me - hugging me, high-fiving me, and cheering. (Felt a bit bad for the ignored winners).  The teachers all ran up to me and said  "Wow, Gabi- you tried.  That's all we wanted.  You really tried" .  And I have to say, it was all one of the most touching experiences of my life.

Mzungu Down! - Part 3 of 3 - I promise.

After our great night in the camp, it was up bright and early for our early morning game drive.  We left camp at half 6, absolutely bent on seeing the leopard.  We cruised around the Mara, and saw plenty more lions and cheetahs.  But then came the call on King James' radio that we had all been waiting for:  leopard sighting.  

So James went completely rambo, and decided he'd rather kill us with his driving before letting us miss the leopard.  So after a rally drive through the bush like no other, James aimed at the tree with the leopard on it and came crashing through the shrubbery almost colliding with the tree.  Alarmed, the leopard of course ran away.  So we got a fleeting view of a leopard climbing down a tree and running away into the thick shrubbery.

This caused us to be hated by the other safari goers, who had a perfect sighting before we came crashing through the trees.  But what happened next really turned our weekend into a comic sketch.  James tried to reverse out of the trees, but of course, we had gotten stuck in the boggy mud.  Wheels spinning in the mud, we had to put out another call on the radio to ask for rescue.  And who should turn up, but the van of doctors?

At this point Tom and I were cringing, for the second time in two days, we were being saved by these poor doctors, whose safari weekend we were absolutely wrecking.  Also for the second time in two days, all the drivers had to pile out of the van- this time into dense shrubbery/trees.  Where there was a leopard hiding.  This time, even the drivers looked jumpy.  But within a short time, the doctors had saved us again, by towing us to safe ground.  We drove off, shouting promises that we would not need rescuing by them again.

After a quick lunch back at camp, we walked out to a Masai village.  The Masai are an incredible people, whose lifestyle has changed very little over centuries I would guess.  They are herdsmen, and shepards, and place the highest financial and social value on the herd of cows each man owns.  Masai do not count their cows, for traditionally they believe counting cows will cause them to get lost.  They also do not like to kill their cows, but take very good care of them.  Apparently each herdsman can recognise the face of each of his cows, and thus has no need to count them anyway.  To clarify:  many Masai have hundreds or even thousands of cows in their herd.

We were met at the entrance of the village by the Chief's son, and the rest of the village men.  The village is surrounded by a thick fence of sticks, and visitors must make an offering in order to enter.  The men performed a welcome dance - with a display of some absolutely excellent jumping :-)  Some of them really can jump to ridiculous heights.  The boys from our group were asked to join in, so there was also a ridiculous display of mzungus trying to jump and grunt in a Masai manner.

Inside the village we were shown the mud huts:  tiny places, perhaps 2-3 meters by 2-3 metres.  A fire is lit in the middle of the hut, so on entering the hut everyone's eyes start crying due to the thick smoke.  It was barely possible to see the other people inside the house.  In Masai culture, it is the women who build the houses - a frame of sticks, with mud/dung caked onto it to form walls.  Sticks and grass form the roof.  Masai men are polygamous, and must be able to provide such a hut  for each wife they take.

Within a Masai village, everyone is related.  When men reach around12-14, they undergo a circumcision ceremony.  Following which, at the age of 15-16, they are sent out into the wild to kill a lion.  Only after having killed a lion are they deemed "warriors".  Warriors are then found a wife by their parents - the wife will be taken from another village, to avoid incest.  In return for a dowry of cows, the wife will come to live in the husband's village.

Next, the women also performed a dance/song for us.  The girls were also expected to join in.  Although this was not too possible - as the ladies were singing a complex lyrical Masai song, and the dance moves were negligible (arm swinging).  To add some more facts:  female circumcision is still common practice among the Masai.  Indeed, the day before we visited, a 12 year old girl was circumcised.  This is a happy occasion for the Masai, and comes with big celebrations.  Married women wear bronze rings around their ankles.

We were taken to the village market, where we bargained hard for assorted Masai ornaments.  However I won't elaborate on these, because probably most of you will be receiving them for Christmas :-)

We set off back to Nairobi, to encounter yet another adventure.  The main route had had its bridge washed away by rain during the  night, so we had to take a detour off-road.  However, the river had been flooded, and knee-deep mood surrounded the river.  So all the safari vans trying to get out of the Mara were stranded.

We all had to pile back out of the vans, and the drivers had to make attempts to bomb down the mud slide slope, and through the river, and get out the other side.  All of this to much applause and whistling by the safari-goers united who had all collected on the banks.  (Our group included, and we also bumped into the doctors, again).  Everybody then had to whip off shoes, roll up trousers, and wade through the ankle-deep mud, and wade through the river.  TIA, everyone, TIA.

Mzungu Down! - Part 2

So, has my laziness really hyped up the tension of this cliff hanger moment? :-)  Sorry for the delay everyone...

Having pulled up at the lodge, we were told to wait...because, of course, TIA, and the doctor was nowhere to be found.  After about 5 minutes, to our absolute amazement, the van of doctors, and the van of all our wonderful friends pulled up at the lodge.  No one was willing to continue the safari without us.  So the boys helped Tom off to the clinic room, and the doctors started raiding the medical supplies cupboard.

All I can say, is thank heavens for Sam and Robert - the best and kindest doctors on the planet.  The "doctor" turned up, a young Kenyan lady, who clearly had never seen a dislocated joint before and had absolutely no idea what to do.  It was debatable as to whether she had actually ever seen a patient.  Never mind a white one.  It also turned out eventually, that she was a nurse, not a doctor... so once again, Sam and Robert really were God-sends.

So there we were, in the "clinic".  A room large enough to fit a 5 foot bed, and a desk.  No standing room at all.  Tom was once again passed out on the bed, with his head hanging way off the top, given the lush size of the bed ;)  I was stood there, having been entrusted by a barely conscious Tom to make sure no one did anything wacky.  Rachel the nurse whipped out a vial, and started preparing to inject him.  At what point is it okay to question a medical professional? :-)

Anyway, the doctors dived at her just in time - "You can't inject that pure intravenously!!!"  "Oh, okay".  I don't think I need to comment.

Then, when the correct cocktail of drugs had been mixed and were being injected, one of the doctors murmured to the other: "Is that air in the tube?"  I have to admit, at this point my own nerves were starting to leave me in the lurch.  I should also mention, that the supplies cupboard at the field clinic had absolutely no drugs whatsoever, and basically kept its coverage to plasters and motilium.  Tom was being given a muscle relaxant, and had been fed all the panadol and ibuprofen that the women united could dig out of our bags.

Robert then hopped up on the table, foot in Tom's armpit, and pulled...

Many times, to no avail.  And I have to give credit to Tom here, for at no point did anyone hear a peep out of him, despite this torture.  And he also kind of maintained his sense of humour.  He entertained us, that's for sure.  "We don't have enough painkillers to do this, we need to relax him.  Gabi, come and kiss your boyfriend."  Suddenly Tom is conscious:  "Don't do that- THAT won't relax me!!!"  A bit later, I joked to the docs: "I guess this means I have to be nice to him for a while.  How many days free pass does he get?"  Docs: "Give him 3 days".  Tom, slurring: "But I won't be able to get anything sexual, coz  right now, I can't even feel my body."  Oh the tongue-loosening power of pain and muscle relaxants :-)

The re-locating of the arm was really not happening.  Apparently when something is too painful, the muscles cramp, and make it impossible to pull the joint back into position.  "We need more painkillers", said the doctors.  "Let's give him whisky".  So, the manager makes a call to the bar, for whisky to be delivered, fast.  "Tom, what kind of whisky do you want?" (Yes, manager, that's really important right now).  Tom: "The most expensive one!"

After a while, Tom was turned onto his belly, with a bottle of water tied to his hand to try and stretch out his arm.  The doctors finally left, as did all our friends (we were getting quite furious at everyone's VERY KIND insistence to miss their whole safari weekend).  There he lay, in this ridiculous field clinic, being fed whisky, and having the nurse lighting the cigarette in his mouth (my hands were failing in the being controlled enough to light a match test- so the nurse whipped them out of my hands, and lit the patient's cigarette for him - TIA, again.)

I wandered off to get myself some Tusker, leaving Tom in the capable hands of the nurse.  I came back to find him sitting up in a chair, smoking.  Typical man.  Take your eyes off him for a second and he does the one thing he's been told not to do.  The manager had booked him and me onto a flight to Nairobi - he needed a hospital ("The plane leaves at 4.45, so leave here at 4.30.  Pay cash to the pilot.")  Seeing as Tom was being so active, we decided to go and take the manager up on his offer of a free lunch in his luxury lodge.  Tom was famous by this point, with random tourists wishing him well.  Lunch was lovely, along with beers on the terrace.  If this was Tom's plan of how to take me on a cheap but decent date.... I guess it sort of worked...?!  Slightly complex plan though Tom :-)

Anyway, at some point during our "date", Tom says: "I think my shoulder's ok now."  I go to look at it, the shoulder on his chest had certainly gone... and he could feel his arm again.  Just at that moment Sam called us, and gave him exercises to do over our phone consultation.  Tom could do them all.   Bizarrely, Tom's arm appeared to have migrated back into the joint over lunch.  So, we cancelled our flights, called the safari van... and back our group came to collect us.

We managed to spend a nice evening at camp, getting suitably drunk.

Our guides joined us, and there was much guffawing over Tom's attempts to sell me to the locals.  Jackson, one of our Masai friends offered him 10 cows.  I took offence at this low offer, and said I needed 150 cows.  James, our guide, jumped in at this point to offer 60.  However, only half needs to be paid, as "Tom, you and I will be sharing use of Gabi, so I only need to pay half the dowry."  Cheers guys.

Mzungu Down! - Part 1

Last weekend a group of 11 of us decided to venture forth to the Masai Mara for the ultimate safari experience. We set off early on Friday morning, in our two trusty safari vans - and by early afternoon had made it to "Manyatta Camp" in the Mara.  We were showed to our very flashy tents by two Masai gentlemen, who were fully equipped with Masai robes, stretched out ears, lion tooth necklaces, tyre shoes, machetes, and clubs for bonking lions on the head with.  Our tents were not exactly the sleeping bad and campfire scenario we had imagined: with double beds and (dodgy) bathrooms inside the tent.  I must say right now, that this is the first place in Kenya where I decided against using the tap water to brush my teeth- as it flowed dark brown from the tap.

After a quick lunch, we set off on our first real safari.  We immediately saw 4 of the big five - the leopard eluding us.  It was a highly successful and fun filled afternoon, leaving us eager to wake up for the full day of game drive on Saturday.  Not before living it up in the camp on Saturday night though.  The booze did flow, and a party was had.  On a more civilised note- Maxim and I went out star-gazing, as I have to say, I have never seen a clearer and more beautiful sky than that of the Masai Mara.  The stars were so bright and beautiful.  We lay in the grass of the camp for an hour or so, just watching the sky.

Saturday morning we were all up, and eager to set off for our full day of safari.  Little did we know what the day had in store for us...

We were straight into the animal viewing - beginning the day with cheetahs stalking a group of gazelles (then getting lazy and giving up), a group of lions sunbathing, and then within a split second jumping up and pouncing at another gazelle.  It must be stated here, that gazelles are incredibly stupid animals.  When faced with a group of lions or cheetahs stalking them - they stand by watching the predators surround them.  They then run 50 metres down the bush, and stop.  Because, of course, no big cat could possibly deal with the wit of moving along such a huge distance.  Apparently, warthogs are even more stupid though, because they have a 10 second memory.

I will take a slight detour here, to fill you with some of the million facts that I gathered over this weekend.  We learnt that elephants eat 200 kgs of food every day, and are awake for 22 hours a day.  Also, elephants and hippos belong to the same family as the tiny rodentesque hyrax - sharing 90-something % genetic material.  The difference between cheetahs and leopards are in their spots:  cheetahs having spots, and leopards having little rings.  Cheetahs also have tear marks on their faces.  Lions live to be about 12 years old, and live with their family until they are roughly 7, when they mature and "get married".  I'll stop, I'm drawing a blank on other facts right now.

We were most keen to see a leopard, it being the only animal that had so far eluded us.  We were having a great time, standing up in our safari van, when tragedy stuck.  We went over a bump, and suddenly, something was clearly wrong.  Tom's shoulder had dislocated and decided to move to the front of his chest.  Our driver, James, didn't quite get the seriousness of the situation, and continued bombing along the bumps and ditches of the Mara.  In the back, the rest of us were somewhat stunned to see Tom's shoulder kind of pop back in, and then Tom proceed to black out.  So there we were, hurtling across the bush, with three of us holding up an unconscious person, and trying to wake him.

It was at this point, that we stopped the van, managed to wake Tom up, and piled out of the car, in a panicked state of mind.  We started calling around every doctor or medical person we knew- being miles away from any form of medical care (70 kms of dirt track, at best).  We also started jumping at passing safari vans, demanding whether there were any doctors on board.  To our utter amazement and luck, one van stopped, full of final year doctor trainees on their safari holiday.  Out jumped two of them who were most confident with dislocations, and they did their best to find a solution.  However, out in the middle of the Mara not much could be done.  By this time Tom's arm was paralysed, with no feeling, and he was passing in and out of consciousness at an alarming rate.  Go to the field clinic we would have to, said the doctors.  And the boys started carrying Tom into the van.

It was at this point, with roughly 15 of us scattered outside the vans that we heard the shout: "Shit, Lions, EVERYBODY GET IN A VAN".  Unbeknown to us, 8 lions had encircled us, and were closing in on the group of easy prey wandering around the bush.  One of them was at best 20 metres away from us, and trotting towards us.

Tom, Max and I set off to the field clinic.  Max and I being thrown around the van, trying to hold still an unconscious Tom.  It was all very dramatic, and eventually, we pulled up at a posh safari lodge, where the Masai Mara's only "doctor" resides...

Kakamega (2)

In the back room, was a huge cavern of a room where we were promptly served up some cold Tuskers.  This had to be a secret, we were told, as Kenyan law prohibits drinking before 5 p.m.  Bizarre law-makers.

After we had drunk our fill, we headed out to find a boda-boda to take us to the crying stone.  The only thing to see in Kakamega.  It is, surprisingly, a big stone.  In fairness, it does look uncannily like a person. It somehow fills with rain and occasionally overflows giving a "weeping" effect, and thus it is believed by the local Luya tribe that when the crying stone cries, it is a bad omen.

On arriving there, we were swiftly accosted by a group of "guides" and children, who marched us up to the tribe "elder" who demanded money for the wives, in return for a tour of the rock.  This would have been fine, had he not been completely drunk.  After a brief, somewhat unimaginative tour of the stone, more money was demanded, in return for the "security" Mr. Drunken Deadbeat had provided.  We handed over the dosh, and rushed back to our bike, keen to get to our secluded forest treehouse - the main attraction to our weekend in Kakamega.

Kakamega is the only place in Kenya that hosts a large tropical rainforest.  This rainforest used to cross Africa, and stretched from the Congo to Kenya, but now little of it remains.  The forest village communities have set up commendable conservation schemes, with ecological and forest schools for local children.  The conservation centre has a forest guest house, a couple of metres away from the edge of the rainforest, perched on stilts.  No electricity or hot water.  This is where we had ventured to.

We settled into our room, and headed straight out into the forest with Abraham, our guide.  He took us deep into the rain forest, reeling off information about trees and the medicinal qualities of plants.  We climbed up to the top of a look out point, and when right on top, it started to rain.  Reeeeeally rain.  Tom and I had, of course, left our rain coats in the tree house - it having been such lovely weather when we set off.  Rule number one of rain forest tourism:  the weather may turn on you in the matter of minutes.  A lesson I will not forget in a hurry.  We got soaked to the skin, and sank knee deep in mud.  Pretty much the state in which we then had to spend the whole weekend.

In the evening we headed over to the "canteen".  A mud hut, where a lady cooks meals over a fire by prior order.  Chickens run around inside the hut.  No electricity.  So there we were, together with a lone American backpacker we had befriended - eating ugali, beef stew and kachumbari, and downing as many beers as possible, in the pitch black, smoke bathed hut.  We took our remaining beers back to the treehouse and spent an evening in blind, tipsy conversation.  We were asleep by 10.  The joys of no electricity.

The next morning we headed down to the canteen for breakfast, where Tom and I were served "an egg" - the only egg - to share.  And some sugar with tea in it. (Not a slip of the tongue).

We then had a tour of the butterfly breeding house, and headed out on our 14 km rainforest trek with Eunice, our suspiciously unfit and unprepared guide.  The forest was truly beautiful, and we climbed up onto a peak with the best view ever.  We also went to a bat cake, where I got completely spooked by the bats who kept flying into me.

At one point on our walk back to camp, our path was blocked by a rhino horned viper.  A fat old snake, who is particularly vicious apparently.  "Is it dead?"  Eunice asks, turning to me.  Not a great sign.  "I don't know Eunice, you're the guide."  Tom and I exchanged amused looks.  Now Eunice, ever the practical gal, picks up a stick and throws it at the snake.  The snake does not like this, and rears up, hissing.  Tom and I looked at each other, and ran.  In fairness to Eunice, the snake did slope off.  However, I'm not convinced "throw a stick at it", is the first piece of advice in the handbook on dealing with poisonous snakes.

After our walk, we hopped back on the boda-boda and sped back into Kakamega town, to the tranquil haven of our backstreet pub, where we consumed plentiful ugali and nyama choma.  And of course Tuskers.  We also purchased a little flask of Kenya Cane, a dangerous sugar cane concoction.

In fairness to the Kenya Cane though, it did get us through the whole bus journey back to Nairobi, where we arrived at 4.30 in the morning.  It was certainly the fastest 8 hour bus trip I've ever been on :-)

Kakamega

The weekend before last, - having read Lonely Planet Kenya cover to cover - I decided I wanted to visit Kakamega, a tiny rural town in Western Kenya, 8 hours journey from Nairobi.  And to do this, I dragged along my trusty travel companion, Tom, who most probably hadn't read the Lonely Planet entry, and wasn't fully aware what he was getting himself into.

We set off on Friday night, meeting at the Easy Coach bus station in downtown Nairobi.  We soon realised we would definitely be the only wazungus taking the bus - ever, but were also pleasantly surprised by the fairly reasonable state of the "coaches".  With a mere half an hour delay, we were off on our all-night bus journey to Kakamega (to the utter bewilderment of any Kenyan we told we were visiting Kakamega... "WHY?")

I cannot even begin to describe the type of journey we had.  The bus seemed to be going off-road on some mental bus rally challenge, judging by the way we were flying out of our seats.  At one point when I managed to fall asleep in the early hours of the morning, Tom woke me, as based on the movements of my body and head, he was concerned I might be having a seizure.  TIA, people, TIA.

At around 5 a.m. the bus came to a stand still, in what appeared to be the middle of a random side road, somewhere in the middle of nowhere.  No one moved.  The bus driver got off.  Another stop, we assumed.  However, after 15 minutes of waiting, I managed to pester Tom to go and find out how long until we reach Kakamega.  We were in Kakamega.  "Why is no one getting off then?"  Tom enquired.  "They're probably praying," responded the helpful bystander (everyone was pretending to be asleep).  This sort of nonsensical response is now commonplace to those of us living over here.  So Tom and I also pretended to be asleep, in the hope of not being forced off the bus into the pitch blackness.  After a short while however, some one barked at the passengers united in Swahili, and people started moving...so we also shuffled off the bus.

The only hotel in Kakamega is the Franka hotel... a seriously dodgy looking place.  I begged for tea.  We were told the "kitchen isn't ready yet".  So we wandered next door to the "Western Cafe", where we were finally served a cup of tea and coffee.  Not being satisfied, we went back to Franka's, where I received a cup of tea with oil swimming on the surface... but my real concern was to barter the price of a room down, for me to take a quick shower.  I should have been wise enough to know that this was taken as a sign that I was the newest, -white (commodity) - prostitute in town, and with much grinning and winking the waiter organised a "room for half an hour".  No comment on the state of the room.  We swiftly exited, after a refreshing ice cold shower...once again, to much winking by the waiters collected in the reception.  Clearly, the sex life of white people is very active at 6 a.m. according to African folklore.

With it still being so early in the morning, we took a stroll around Kakamega (the whole two streets of it), before stumbling upon the market.  For all those thinking of passing by, at Kakamega market one can buy: tiny dried fish, tomatoes, onions, potatoes, and flip flops made of tyres.  Nothing else.  Maybe a bit of spinach.  However, we were akin to a travelling circus, with many jubilant shouts of "mzungu!", and me being handed a baby to hold at one point.  (I have since been told by a friend from Kakamega, that white people are so rare, it is considered a privilege for a white person to hold someone's baby).

By 10 a.m. it was definitely Tusker o'clock, and we desperately wandered the streets of Kakamega looking for a suitable drinking hole.  Eventually a friendly matatu tout took us into a "bar", which had a bar, and space to stand next to the bar.  That is, until we were guided through the secret side door into the back...

Mtumba and Hiking at Ngong Hills

On Saturday, my new Belgian friend Maxim took me to the mtumba.  It really is impossible to describe what that place entails.  It is a huge, huge, huge "market".  It looks pretty much akin to a slum, with all the stalls being made from wooden beams, iron sheets, and pieces of plastic sheet tacked on.  And when I say huge, this place occupies a whole separate part of town, with streets and streets being formed just by little shack-stalls.

The little trails between stalls hardly allow a person to pass through, and are the muddiest paths I have ever encountered in my life.  Maxim and I had turned up in open shoes, and immediately sunk ankle deep in mud- literally.  We trailed around for hours, each footstep a challenge, as we had to unstick our foot- and shoe- from the deep mud, just to take a step and sink again.  Needless to say we were filthy.

All of the clothes sold at mtumba are second hand, and as I predicted, are actually the clothes that have been donated from Europe to the poor people in Africa.  Many of the clothes still had the "British Heart Foundation", "Oxfam", or "Red Cross" tickets still stuck to them.  So, charities- I hope you know that all of the clothes you donate are being flogged on the market.

Leaving the mtumba, we noticed a channel of water running along a ditch.  Many locals were squatted there, cleaning off their shoes.  So, throwing a look of resignation at each other, Maxim and I stepped into the water... which may or not have been sewage.  At least some of the mud was washed off our feet.  We quickly headed into a shack, for a lovely meal of nyama choma (roast goat), ugali (you don't want to know), and kale.  And of course tusker.  Always the tusker.


Sunday a big group of us from the Nairobi Expat Social facebook group had planned to go hiking to the Ngong Hills.  Ngong means knuckles (on your fist) in Maasai, and the hills do in fact resemble a fist from a distance.  The story goes that a huge giant when walking near Mount Kilimanjaro, tripped over, and the Ngong Hills are where his knuckles landed, and left a dent in the land.  Don't worry, we didn't meet the giant while hiking.

There have been a lot of muggings in Ngong apparently, so walkers are obliged to take armed KWS officers along.  So our group was assigned two gentlemen- Alex and David.  Throughout our walk, they flung their guns around in an alarmingly nonchalant manner, pointed them at us accidentally on many occasions, and generally dossed about at the back of the group.  Not particularly bothered about our safety apparently.  They also found it hilarious that we "might meet a buffalo, don't provoke it, they're very dangerous" (shouted from the back of the group).

The walk was lovely, very beautiful scenery.  Also, very nice people... Nairobi does seem to amass a lot of nice characters.  Finally, thank you to Maxim, who took some very awesome photographs of the day!

Nairobi National Museum

On Thursday, Monica and I decided to visit the Nairobi National Museum which is in downtown Nairobi.  I made it into town, to find that Monica was on African time.  So I stood waiting for half an hour at Accra Road - a very busy "bus station" (read: a weird, bustling market/matatu stand).  The recent grenade attacks have left Nairobi slightly on edge.  There's a definite increase in armed police, military and security patrolling the streets, and all big shopping malls.  However, standing there at Accra Road, I couldn't help but think that with the sheer amount of people going about their midday business, it would be very difficult to stop an attack in such a busy public place.  These thoughts were compounded, when I received a "terror update" sms from a reporter friend of mine- "Bus blown up and showered with bullets, all on board killed".  I obviously assumed this was in Nairobi (it later turned out to be in Northern Kenya)... but it was the first time since being here that I felt a tinge of panic rising inside me.

Anyway, we headed over to the museum, which I have to say deserves top marks.  A very modern, clean, beautiful building houses very interesting exhibits on Kenyan wildlife, Kenyan traditions, archaeology, photography/painting, and a little exhibition about HIV sufferers.  It was all very interesting.

In the grounds, one can visit the "snake park".  A little garden filled with reptiles, where all the most poisonous snakes of Kenya are displayed in big tanks (thank goodness).  Tortoises randomly wander around the centre of the garden - there's a huge amount of them.  Much to my (childish) amusement, two tortoises started mating right in front of us.  I have NEVER seen anything so funny.  It was like something out of a comedy sketch... we were all crying with laughter.  Immature, I know.  The snakes were very interesting... as it turns out, the infamous BLACK MAMBA is not black at all.  What a disappointment.  It was named black mamba because it has a black tongue.  Slight feeling of anticlimax really.  It is actually a nondescript grey.

Our guide was really very knowledgeable.  Students guide tourists around the park, and I have to give credit to our guide who was an extremely clever and nice chap.  He was alarmingly cool about these deadly snakes though.  About spitting cobras - whose venom paralyses you or stops your heart - he said, "don't worry if you get spat at, just wash your eyes with some water, it should work".  Showing us a different snake, I asked him: "Is this snake deadly?" Answer: "Yes, but not so much".  When we asked whether to run when we see a deadly snake, he said "No, just stand still - snakes don't have too good eyesight".

We headed home after the snakes, and it was with a slight sense of nervousness that I found my bus (please don't blow up).  On getting to the door, an armed security guard scanned me with his little wand.  He then asked me, with an entirely straight face, "Are you Somalian?"  I couldn't help myself but act sarcastic (I would probably have been arrested in the UK for this). "Yes, I am", I told him, "How did you know??"  The man paused, looking at me.  He then steps aside to let me on the bus.  "I don't think I believe you, I think you might be British".  Kenya has clearly rolled out the big guns of security then.  Nothing gets past these guys.

A family trip to Mombasa... and Church on Sunday

This past week the kids have been on half-term, so we started the week by taking a long weekend to go to Mombasa.  At some ungodly hour of Saturday morning we all piled into the car, and headed off on the loooong journey to Mombasa.  I was somewhat wary of a 7-8 hour car journey with 4 kids under 5, but I have to hand it to them, they were very good.

Kenya through the car window was simply awesome.  I fell even more in love with this country, driving from Nairobi to Mombasa.  It is just so beautiful.  We passed by Mount Kilimanjaro, it's snow-cap sparkling in the distance, we passed by Tsavo national park, making me feel like a key actor in the Lion King... it's just such a fantastic country.

We made it to our cottage on Diani beach, which was luxurious.  An open air sitting room, surrounded by white curtains, and beds with decorative mosquito nets (I say decorative, because there were plenty of mosquitos inside the nets).

We spent each morning in the cottage pool, which was amazingly warm even when it rained.  The climate in Mombasa is so different - really really humid, and warm.  But mostly humid :-)

This trip was mission get all the kids swimming, as usually they kick up a stink when we try to get them to swim in Nairobi.  And it worked, they all loved the pool...and started begging to go swimming at around 7.30 each morning.

Afternoons we went to Diani beach (across the road)... it was like something out of a film.  It is such an idyllic and beautiful coast line.  And that's just the visuals.  But there were also huuuge warm waves, perfect for playing in.  So I spent my afternoons holding hands with Lisette and Sammy, jumping waves... and listening to their cute little screams of fear and delight as the big waves crashed over them.  We also did plenty of sand castle building, and shell collecting :-)

On the way back, we took a detour through the Shimba Hills national park (an elephant sanctuary).  We stopped there to see the elephants in the wild, as the park supposedly has the highest concentration of elephants in the whole of Africa.  First things first, we were given an informative lecture about how the sanctuary supports the local community... they have invented elephant dung paper!  A man gave us a demonstration of how the dung is mixed and drained and compressed into sheets of paper.  It is then used to make souvenir objects for tourists.  All funds go to the local community and the upkeep of the sanctuary.

We drove off around the park in search of elephants, and saw 2 families in the distance - but sadly, we learnt elephants are not too keen on being viewed up close.

We stopped to eat our picnic at a camp in the middle of the reserve which is an amazing place:  a safari tent camp, bang in the middle of the reserve, where apparently the elephants come in the morning to use the water hole.  Definitely have to go back there while I'm out here- although it is very remote to get to.

Very long journey home, which included the motorway suddenly ending in our direction.  Literally.  All of a sudden there was just no road left.  So all the lorries and cars had to cross over onto the incoming lanes of traffic!  Our lane had to drive up the hard shoulder of the oncoming direction.  That's Africa.  Eventually we even had to go off-road, and onto the new road- they just haven't bothered to connect the 2 bits of road yet.
Have to love Africa :-)

Can I tack on another topic to the end of this post??  I suppose I can.

Yesterday (Sunday), my friend Tom (see Naivasha) and I decided to go along to an African church mass, just for the experience.  I have to say I wasn't disappointed.  The place was packed out, so much so, that much of the congregation was sitting/stood outside.  A tent had been erected with plastic chairs for the extra people... giving the whole occasion the feeling of a cheery barbeque, or a fete on the village green.  The priest did his preaching, but much to our amusement got quite hysterical at certain points and would start screaming in Kiswahili.  To be followed up with a "CAN I GET AN AAAA-MEN?".

The topic of his sermon was rather strange as well.  To all those children who have been orphaned and are suffering:  God will hear you.  Fair enough.  To all those women, who are not legally married, but have done their best to raise their child, and are abused by their no-hope husbands:  God will hear you.  Fair play.  But then:  "LET US NOT FORGET, HOWEVER, that it is not only women who are abused by their husbands.  But there are sooo many men, who are mistreated by their terrible wives.  Can you imagine, dear sisters and brothers, some men come home, and remain HUNGRY because their wives DO NOT COOK FOR THEM.  IT IS TRUE, YES, IT IS TRUE.  Let us pray for these poor poor men as well...let us not forget them...  (divergence into Kiswahili that we no longer understood)."  Very bizarre.

Also, the church is hoping to expand its building, and so is hosting a fund-raiser next weekend.  For which the priest assured the congregation: we will be reading out the name of each family, and how much they have contributed.  Lady X cannot make it, but has already contributed her cheque of 100,000 Ksh... and I promised her, that I would identify her at the mass.   Public exposure of private donations... a little shocking to me.

All in all, a very interesting experience!  

The most epic blog post ever...

Be warned, this blog post is going to be very long and detailed, because this weekend was jammed with fun and games...and too many jokes :-)

On Saturday morning, I headed into town to meet the lovely Monica, and Tom - a random man from facebook who I had never met before.  The three of us were heading to Naivasha- home to Lake Naivasha (hippo paradise), and Hell's Gate National Park.

Got on a matatu-bus, for the journey there.  They were pumping out the music, with a TV screen showing a very severe looking man singing in a most strange and strict manner.  Turned out he was singing/rapping the gospels.  Funky.  Another amusing point:  the bus conductor kept diving under us (we were sitting on the back seat).  He was hiding from the police, because, in true Kenyan style, there were too many people on the bus.  But the first time it happened we were quite shocked to suddenly see a man get down and crawl under our legs, under our seat without giving a word of explanation...

Made it to Fisherman's Camp, aka the "Glastonbury" of the Kenyan camping world.  I beg to differ, Lonely Planet.  But still a nice place- monkeys galore.  Two nice chaps put up our tent for us, which was tiny.  We pointed out that two people certainly could not fit in there.  They said, "but look, there are two mattresses in the tent!".  Yes... the mattresses were on top of each other.  Literally.  In a pile.  (It's Africa).  Eventually they got the two mattresses next to each other, and Tom the random and I accepted that we would be making friends very fast.

We headed out onto the lake, in an indestructible boat.  I say indestructible, because at one point we hit rocks and Emmanuel, our driver exclaimed "Don't worry, it's only rocks!! I didn't hit a hippo".  Rocks harmful to a small boat??  Of course not...  Made it to Cresent Island stopping by a family of hippos on the way.  Incidentally - I have come to know that hippos trump even human men in the jealousy league tables.  Lady hippos have to leave the family location to give birth, and if the kid is a boy, they leave it behind because father hippos kill all males to come near the family.  So girl hippo babies come and live with the fam, boy hippo babies have to go off and find their own family.  Daddy, jealous much?

Cresent Island was amusing - found a ranger, to whom we declared: "Let's make a deal".  We got residents rates, he got a bit to line his pocket, everyone was happy.  In a very jolly mood, off we marched on our guided tour.  First stop:  "Everybody!! Look!! (everyone gathers round)... THIS, is... hippo poo".  Ahha...  Other stops on the tour were: aardvark holes, fox holes, and mouse holes.  Tom had a bit of trouble identifying what a mouse was - they are rare creatures after all :-)

On the way back to camp on the boat, Emmanuel had many gems of entertainment for us:  on seeing a flock of pelicans: "Let's make them fly!" (He accelerates into them),  and an eagle calling whistle - to which he them fed fish.

Back at camp we headed straight to the "restaurant" (bar) to start on the trusty Tuskers.  Mayhem of course ensued.  When the sun went down, hippos came to graze in the camp...awesome!  We got completely smashed, and started chatting to the waiter, Sam.  To whom we explained that while Tom and I are married, married life isn't going too well.  This is probably sue to the miniscule size of Tom's penis, and the fact that he has 4 girlfriends beside me.  Sam was horrified, and took it upon himself to break us up, and whisk  me away to a better life.  Oh the fun... :D

Other highlights of our drunkenness included:  trying to climb trees, not being able to, so settling for standing on a tree stump.  Deciding to try out whether there was electricity in the electric fence - by throwing grass and sticks at it.  Getting caught doing this by a policeman, and explaining I'm scared of hippos, and my husband was just ensuring my safety.  Then diverging and asking if we can wear his hat and hold his gun for photos (hat yes, gun no).

After a surprisingly comfy night in the tent, I woke up (Tom being a baby, and refusing to get up)...and headed off to find a shower.  To be found "just over behind the banana tree".  Then I went to have breakfast, where Sam greeted me with "Great! Are you single now??"...

We took a matatu to Hell's Gate, and after a gruelling walk in the heat, made it to the gate.  Where it turned out, it's 8km to the ranger's post...walking or on bike.  No other vehicles.  So we rented two bikes, and set off.  The chain fell off mine before we left, so had to have it fixed.  Otherwise, I have never heard two bikes that make more ridiculous noises.  I was truly certain that we wouldn't make it to the ranger's post.  But despite our bikes and the midday heat - we got the post, met John, our Masai guide, and set off for our trek.

It soon became clear that a stellar sense of humour, and a lack of care for our limbs staying intact were going to be necessary for this walk.  John ran off, hopping down cliffs, running across rivers, and scrambling up rock faces.  With us in tow, crying tears of laughter over the ridiculousness of the situation.  At some points John had to say "just step on me", and act as a staircase for us useless wazungus.

That man is a legend.  Towards the end of the walk, he ran across a tree fallen across a deep gorge...and shouted "Come on"... blank faces.  Tom was about to freak out (man that he is).  I was sat on the tree, laughing.  When John hops back and says "Just kidding, we're walking down there" :D  Joker!

He took us to boiling water springs, and we ended up on top of the mountain with a beautiful Lion King view, where we painted us with Masai warrior paint...to complete our transformation.  It was such an awesome day.

We did cause a bit of dismay for John though.  He explained that he is not married yet, because he's saving up   his cows to be able to afford a mzungu wife.  Can he please enquire as to how many cows we expect in "Mzungu"? (Because he all come from a cryptic place called Mzunguland apparently).  I told him we don't need cows for marriage.  He was astounded.  NO COWS???  I told him the man simply asks the lady, and she can decide whether to say yes or no.  He was shocked and somewhat horrified.  We asked how many cows he would pay for a very beautiful Kenyan wife.  Maybe even 25, he said.  If she was very beautiful.  But he wants a mzungu.  We asked how many cows he currently has... 150.  Poor guy.  That's a lot of cows saved up for nothing.

That's all for now... you're probably all bored anyway :-)

I would like to add a postscript:  Sorry Tom, I give you a lot of stick :-)  But everyone, he's a really nice guy actually :-)

An amusing day at school

Yesterday was full of laughs at school...

First of all, I finished my syllabus for this year with my year 4 class.  That textbook was shocking.  Gems of wisdom taught to students as part of the curriculum include:  "HIV/AIDS can be prevented by frequent hand-washing", and: "Alcohol can cause unwanted pregnancy".

Anyway, I asked the headmaster what I should teach them next, and he gave me the answer "It's your classroom, you're the master.  Do whatever you want."  Haha... my licence to wreak havoc over the next two months...

I immediately decided that I would be teaching the real version of sex, pregnancy, and disease prevention.  I ran this past one of the other teachers, who told me it's a brilliant idea.  The nuns who run the school don't allow sex education - because it "teaches the children to sin".  Well, in my classroom, I'm the master... so my upcoming classes will focus on: sex ed, pregnancy, HIV, malaria, hand-washing...

On the subject of hand-washing, I'm gutted to hear that 30,000 people a year die in Kenya from diarrhea.  More than the number of deaths due to AIDS, malaria, and typhoid put together.  October 15th is international hand-washing day, and I think it's super important to educate about this issue.

Back to school...  So I was sitting out during my free lesson, chilling and sunbathing with the other teachers.  I allow them a laugh or two, as it isn't too easy to be the only white person "sunbathing" with black people...  I go a little redder a little sooner ;)  Anyway, the teachers told me that yes, this is true of real white people - they do burn fast.  But I'm not really white.  I'm actually much closer to a "half-cast".  And they managed to drag over the only "half-cast" girl in the school to prove that me and her are the same.

Welllll.... what can I say.  She was black.  I'm not.  But whatever... at least this shows my tan must be getting good...

But I then informed the black group that "half-cast" is considered a completely politically incorrect and offensive term.  And that the proper word used these days is mixed race.  They all laughed at me, (because I'm crazy, white, and endlessly funny)...and told me not to be ridiculous, half-cast is the official word for mixed race people.  Okidoki then...

Back at home, I walked into my bathroom to find 2 geckos running around the walls.  I was shocked, and slightly unnerved by them.   I told the Gege and JD, but they just laughed and said "yes, we have loads of geckos in the house".  I then did actually spot a few running round the wall next to my bed.  This had raised the question in me:  Have I really spent the past month living in a room full of geckos and just not noticed???

I did a bit of discovery, and followed one to see where they live.  Well, it ran up the wall, and under the tiles, and just disappeared.  That, my friends, is roughly all you need to know about African architecture and building expertise.  Geckos live in the walls.

Mount Longonot

Yesterday, a group of us decided to climb Mount Longonot - a volcano in the Rift Valley.

We met up in the morning, and took a matatu to the mountain - plenty of crazy driving of course.
We finally got there by midday... erm, not the best time to climb a mountain, but oh well.

We set off, in the scorching sun... and within a very short time, we all had sunburn despite being covered in factor 50 suncream - meet the African sun everybody!

The walk up was nice, although the heat made it more difficult than it should have been.  We met a giraffe on the way... I do love my giraffes :-)

The crater is really beautiful... a big drop, to the crater floor which is now full of trees.  We walked around the whole crater rim, roughly a 2 hour hike.  There is a high peak on the crater, which involves very steep climbing, so the way up was not exactly easy... Although we got quite frustrated by the Kenyans, who apparently go to Longonot for a Saturday stroll... one guy was JOGGING around the crater, and all the others were wearing flipflops, and still overtaking us.  We were there in full hiking gear, chugging down the water, almost dying :D

When right at the highest point, we sat down on the rocks for lunch!  We were almost caught in a downpour of rain, so we quickly packed up our lunch, and started down the other side of the peak, so we wouldn't get caught in the storm right on top of the peak!

The walk down was much easier, and really pleasant.  The scenery is so beautiful, definitely worth the walk.

On the way home the matatu driver decided to make a detour, and ended up taking us down mudroads through villages where they clearly weren't used to cars, never mind a bus full of white people :D  He pulled up outside a shack and beeped his horn, and said "let me say hi to my wife".  Out runs a lady, he chucks her a jumper, and says, literally: "HI".  Then gets back in the car, grinning, and tells us: "Now I don't need to come home tonight"....

I got dropped off at the round about in the centre of Karen, and it was getting dark.  It's not safe to walk home in the dark, and the taxi drivers rip white people off.  So the house helpers that I live with have told me many times "just take a motorbike for 50 bob".  So yesterday, I decided to extend my African experience, and I found a motorbike guy...and started bargaining for a lift home.  "100 bob" he says.  I laugh, and say "50 bob.  If you don't want 50 bob I'll go with the other guy over there".  "Get on"  he says.  So off I zoom on the back of a motorbike.  I must have looked like a circus attraction.... Mzungu on the back of a motorbike, with hair flying madly in the wind :D

Would have been an excellent day... only I got sunstroke, and had a terrible headache, and face ache, and lung ache and everything ache almost all night... The price of hiking in Africa at midday.

I am most impressed with myself though, because today I have woken up with almost no pain in my legs!

Drama at School...

As my title suggests, today there was my first real piece of drama at school.

Half way through my lesson, a little girl (Daphin), asks if she can go to the toilet.  She's finished her work, and is a good student... of course, I say, hurry back.

In she comes a few minutes later, crying her eyes out.  The class turns into chaos, as everyone tries to establish what has happened in a multitude of languages.

Finally, I manage to talk to her... What's wrong, I ask.  "Teacher Duncan beat me".  Why??? I ask.  "Because I was outside the classroom."

I was furious.  I think I have made my feelings on caning completely clear to the other teachers, and anyway, it's completely disrespectful to cane another teacher's student, rather than coming to see me first.

So after class, I went to the usual gang of teachers hanging around outside, and ask what happened.  No one knows, but lets go and ask Teacher Duncan.

So, I tell Teacher Duncan that while I appreciate his assistance, under no circumstances do I want him beating my students, especially not during my class time.  I gave the child permission to go to the toilet - I don't expect another teacher to cane her without my knowledge.  In the future, if he has issues with my students, he should direct them to me.

To my shock, Teacher Duncan looked like a scolded school boy, looked truly ashamed, and stammered "I'm so sorry Teacher Gabi... it won't happen again."

This place can be seriously weird sometimes...  

A "typical" Friday!

Today has been such a busy, fun day.  I love life here!

So in the morning, as usual, I taught at school.  Today's amusing anecdote:  the school priest/ religion teacher came to greet me when I was sitting outside with the other teachers.  He had his wife with him (a severe looking woman carrying a Bible, and dressed head to toe in black).  He comes to chat to me, and stands above me, CLEARLY looking down my top.  "Ahem", I say.  He grins, and says: "You have nice shoes".  "You're kidding, right?" I ask, in a disapproving tone.  "No, your shoes really are lovely".  Great priest there people...

Then of course there was the young male teacher blatantly flirting with a schoolgirl.. No biggy.  No one bats an eyelid.

My box of chalk was stolen from the staff room.  Petty.

Aaaand, one of the nuns reinforced for me that yes, I really should have a stick.  She keeps one on her desk "just in case".  I was offered another chance to have my own stick, which I gratefully declined.  Although I'm beginning to think that I might accept one, just for the souvenir effect.

Some kids really are daft.  Today one child drove me up the wall.  Half way through the spelling test, I look up, and see her sitting there with no paper, no pencil, doing nothing.  "Faith, what are you doing?"  "Nothing." "I can see that, WHY are you doing nothing?" - blank stare-.  "Faith, you know the rest of the class is doing a spelling test?? Why aren't you writing??"  "Because I have no paper".  "Where is you work book??"  "In my desk".  "Faith, TAKE IT OUT."   Later on, we're reading a text from the textbook.  I look up, once again, Faith is doing nothing.  "Faith, where is your book?"  "I don't have one."  "Why not??" "My mum can't afford to buy me one."  Okay, I said, no problem, please go and sit over there, and share with Christopher.  So what does she do??  She stands up and starts trying to move her WHOLE DESK to the other side of the class room....  "Faith, you don't need to move your desk... just sit at the spare space that is there...."  But my nerves were being tested :-)

After school, we went swimming with the kids.  Of course, by the time we got to the swimming pool, there was terrential rain.  I said I didn't mind, it would stop soon, as the sky was blue.  The kids were desperate to swim.  So in we go, into the outdoor pool.  In the rain.  The kids soon started screaming and wailing.  We all had to go back inside again, having swum about 15 mins, with all the black people sheltering from the rain and watching in bewilderment as the crazy wazungus take their kids swimming...

From the swimming pool, we headed to the elephant orphanage.  Driving along the road we met a stray giraffe, taking an evening stroll along the road :-)  Our "family" has adopted a little baby elephant called Naipoki, so we were going to visit her.  She was incredibly cute, and wanted to make friends.  She wrapped her trunk around my arm, and gave it a tug, to pull me closer to play.  She nearly took my arm off!  I was seriously shocked to see that an elephant shorter than me with a trunk not longer than my arm had such strength!!  Eventually she got too tired, and was tucked up (under blankets) for bedtime.

The orphaned elephants drink 12 pints of baby (human) powered milk every 3 hours night and day until they are about 3!!  The wardens sleep with their "baby", and have to be with them constantly during the day.  I was surprised also at how intelligent elephants are - they respond to their names.

One baby elephant was brought in about an hour before we arrived.  A victim of poaching - he has a spear wound to the head :-(  Poor thing was so sad and scared.

If anyone wants to donate online by the way - do contact me for more info.

And today's piece of trivia:  I find it stupidly amusing that Kenyan money is referred to as "bob".  Ie.  "How many bob does that cost?"  "Oh it's 30 bob".

Good night, I'm off to Nakuru tomorrow morning at 7 - to visit the flamingos!!!

I'm in love with Kenya

The days seem to pass so quickly here, because I always have so much to do.  Once again, I have many adventures to fill you in on!

On Sunday, I went to Nairobi National Park with friends... and went on my FIRST SAFARI.  And maaan was I lucky.  I saw all the animals that I could really wish to see, that live in this area- giraffes, zebras, a lion with 3 cubs, a black rhino, wildebeest, gazelles, buffalos... just everything you need to have a great safari.  It was breathtaking, and exciting and so awesome.  We were able to see the lions from about 3-4 metres away, as they had killed a zebra near the road, and were guarding it.  The guide told us they wont leave that place until they have eaten the whole zebra.  The rhino was huge, and like something from another planet.  The giraffes are incredibly tall... none of my photos do the animals justice.  And all set against a background of high-rise buildings in the distance (the park is on the outskirts of Nairobi city).

Yesterday was my day off from teaching, so Geraldine (the lady who I live with) took me to visit the Sheldrick foundation elephant orphanage.  My goodness, are baby elephants cute???  They all have terrible stories though- most of them lost their mothers through poaching.  They are all very cheeky and sweet though, and love their mudbaths...  They were throwing dust and mud around and at each other :-)   Our "family" adopted a baby elephant, which means we can go and visit her in private on Friday evening... will be great.

The elephant orphanage is essentially in the bush - with no shade.  And of course yesterday the real African sun decided to come out for proper.  It was HOT... and more than heat, the sun burns here!  You can really feel the rays... its awesome.

Today I had another amusing day at school.  I taught my year 4 class, and decided to scrap the textbook today, and played games with them.  Boys against girls - spellings, vocab, charades.  They absolutely loved it.  The girls won (of course) by one point, and so I gave the boys the penalty of having to go out into the playground and do 10 press ups in front of everyone.  There was plenty of giggling.  The kids all loved it.  And at the end of the lesson, they taught me their daily Kiswahili phrase.  Today they taught me:  "Wewe ni mwalimu mzuri sana."  (You're a great teacher).  I swear I love those kids!!  And to make things even better:  I have a dyslexic student who no one else has paid any attention to - and I have already become the meddling teacher by giving him extra lessons and help.  He came upto me at the end of class, and told me, teacher, this lesson I got 7/15 spellings right in the test!!  (For the past 3 tests, he got 1/15).  He asked me, please will you help me more??  I wanted to cry... he's such a sweet kid, and so hard working.

I'll finish with an amusing image.  I had a free period today at school, and was sitting in the playground in the sun.  The head teacher, priest, and some teachers come out to join me.  The priest takes out his mobile phone (glittering purple), and puts on his playlist:  a strange mix of oldschool Backstreet boys, and sexual rap.  The teachers are all there, bobbing their heads along, laughing, chatting - questioning my teaching technique as "too active"... all of a sudden, up they hop:  "nearly end of class, better go back and check that the kids did their work".  It turns out, they had given the kids work at the start of the lesson, then come outside to relax... and went back at the end of class to collect the work.  I do raise an eyebrow at the morale of teachers over here...  Anyway, no wonder like this I seem "too active"... :-)

Lala salama!  (Sleep well!)

Weekend number 2

Hello everyone!!  It's been a whole week since my last blog, but we haven't had internet.  It's Africa - we have power cuts every day, and sometimes things just don't work.  Sometimes the electricity supply is too weak to actually power appliances, and the lights can only manage a dim glow.  When something doesn't work (for example, the internet) the company can never be bothered to help.  So it takes time to get anything done.  Please please please don't panic if I disappear for a couple of days again, it will just be some ridiculous power cut or something!  Although, it was kindof cute that people got so worried :-)

So Monday-Thursday there was no teaching, as the kids were doing exams.  I supervised the English exam, which was funny.  A class of 10 year olds where asked to give the definition of the word "irrigation"...  Lets go and ask some English 10 year olds that question...

On Friday I taught classes as usual, but perhaps the most amusing part of Friday was a "lecture" I received from the teachers.  3 guys were stood outside, so I went to join them during my free class.  They handed me a stick and asked if I knew what it was.  "A stick??"  I was told "Yes, it's used for teaching".... Haha.... For beating the kids I asked?  For many things, they told me... but without a stick, I will not be able to maintain any respect or authority within my classroom.  Laughing, I told them I don't need a stick to have authority over my students.  Laughing, they told me... oh yes I do.  How else will I threaten them??  I told them I make my misbehaving students write lines at home.  And if they are very naughty, I will call in their parents.  (This being a very big threat over here, because those privileged enough to go to a good school do not want to shame their parents, and will probably be beaten at home).  The teachers told me:  "For many of these children, they receive no moral guidance at home, we are their parents, so we have to beat them."  I could see I was fighting a pointless battle, so I declined offers to have a stick carved for me, and gave up on the anti-beating speech.  However, the teachers changed tactic:  "What will you do, if a huge snake comes into your classroom?  With no stick, how will you beat it to death??"  I assured them no snake will come into my class.  Oh but it might, they told me.  "In the unlikely event that a huge snake comes into my classroom, I'm sure I will manage to find an implement with which to beat it to death." I told them.  They were satisfied.  Beating things to death seems to be a necessary part of life here.  So long as I was willing to beat the snake with something, everyone's happy.

The bell had gone in the meantime.  "Are you not teaching this lesson?"  They asked.  "Yes I am," I told them, "but I'm getting better at African time.  No one moves when the bell goes, the teacher won't come out of the class, and let me begin... you have to wait a bit, and start late.  That's African time."  Doubled up from laughter at the crazy mzungu... they told me "African time??? Don't be silly"... :-)

Yesterday I went horse riding in an attempt to get over  my dislike of horses.  But it wasn't very successful.  They gave me a horse that was very stubborn, and seemed to find it hilarious that every now and again, the horse just decided it had had enough.  When we were running, it would just stop suddenly, and I almost flew off a few times... and sometimes it just decided to go home to its stable, and  made a break for the exit.  Perfect horse to give a beginner....  Don't think I'll go back again...

In the afternoon I went to an expats meeting, where I met loads of lovely new people.  I can't believe how many young people have moved to Kenya for work.... So cool :-)

My first weekend

Today I stayed in bed until 8AM!!! What a luxury!!  I did feel supremely guilty hearing the kids SCREAMING in the living room, but too bad - it's my day off...

In the morning I rested, marked essays, and so forth.  There was one excellent essay - about how the girl's favourite time of day is English lessons, because her new teacher is so amazing and brilliant... full marks for her I say :-)

After lunch I decided to man up, and confront Africa head on.  I put on my hiking boots, and put on my headphones (I haven't been listening to music for fear of being mugged so far).  I set off to the Karen Blixen museum.  It was a loooong walk - about 7 kms from my house.  I decided to hold my white head high, and shout Jambo to anyone I meet...I can't stay in Africa for 3 months and be scared to go anywhere.  Surely no one will hurt me for being white, if I'm nice...

I came to a crossing, and couldn't decide which way to turn.  So, I turned to the nearest person, and asked the way to Karen Road.  He smiled, and said - "Oh, you want to go to your country club?"  No... I said, I want to see the museum.  His attitude changed immediately, and grinning, he directed me to the "fantastic museum" (It's a state heritage site).  Country club, in Africa?? No wonder they think white people are bonkers...

I had my first meeting with the African sun today.  So all in all, I slightly regretted deciding to walk the whole way by the time I got there.  But I'm scared of the matatus, because of their deadly driving.

The Karen Blixen house was very nice - lots of movie props have been donated by Universal Studios, to help make the house more authentic.  I took a stroll in the gardens, and met the cutest animal that was chilling on a cactus tree.  I can't remember what it's called.  But it makes very funny noises, and they are hunted for their furs.

Afterwards, I went to Kazuri - a bead factory, set up to give single mothers a profession and means of earning a living.  They hand make and hand paint allsorts of beads, and make jewellery.  The factory was closed, so the ladies in the shop told me to peek in the windows.  I was just peeking, when I was accosted by a security guard.  He told me to come with him, he'll give me a private tour.  I was naturally, terrified.  He took me by the back route, to a shed, assuring me we were going to look at how clay is made.  I couldn't think of a way to run away :D  And, it turned out he was taking me to see the clay.  Then he told me to come inside a shed.  Once again, I was sure this is where I would get macheted to pieces.  But no, he showed me the kiln.  Then he laughed, and put his arm through an open window, opened the workshop door for me and took me on a guided tour of the workshop.  We went out, he smiled, wished me a nice day, and left me.  Just goes to show where the world has gotten to - I was genuinely terrified, and convinced he was luring me into a shed to rape and kill me.  In fact, he didn't want my 7 km hike in the heat to be in vain.

I chickened out of getting a matatu, and started walking home... however, a matatu saw me on the roadside, and stopped.  So I thought, now or never... and hopped in.  I smiled jovially at the bus of black people, and held on for dear life.  Needless to say, I survived that aswell :-)

September 9th, 2011

I really hate the rainy season.  It's cold, and muddy, and wet.  Whoever thought I'd come to Africa and be cold. I'm hoping the warm weather will come soon.  I'm told by everyone at school that the bad weather is due to global warming - there shouldn't be rain at this time of year.  Earlier in the week there were Safari ants everywhere - which is apparently a local indicator of rain.  They've disappeared now... so here's hoping.

My classes were dedicated and cheerful again.  They had to hand in their first homework assignment today - a composition piece about a time that they were really scared.  I only had time to leaf through the first couple of essays, but I can tell it will be great fun marking them.  Essay 1, by a little girl: "I was collecting firewood in the forest, when suddenly I was faced by two cheetahs.  I was very scared, so I dropped the firewood and ran away quickly.  I was safe."  Essay 2, by a small boy: "I was playing football, and kicked my ball into the bushes.  So I went to get it and there was a big snake in front of my ball.  I ran to get my dad, and he killed it for me."  Essay 3, by another girl: "I was on my way home from school, and I took the short cut.  I walked across a field, and almost stepped on a cobra.  I quickly picked up a stick and beat it until it was dead.  I promised my dad never to take the short cut again."  Essay 4: "I was in bed one night when I was woken by a strange man climbing through my window.  He started stealing things from our house, but my dad and brother caught him and called the police."

... Beats the old "I went shopping on the weekend, and watched Eastenders.  There was a spider in my room and it scared me."

I took tea with the sister who runs the school, and much to my amusement she is ADAMANT that tea with milk is a Kenyan invention, and definitely is in no way related to the English habit.  I told her we drink tea with milk in England.  "No, it's not possible - it's African."  I gave up persuasion in the end :-)  Also, I'm not allowed to drink tea without eating bread with it - an African tradition it would seem...

I have launched myself into studying Kiswahili, and intend to be able to hold a conversation before I leave in December!  One of the teacher brought in a Swahili textbook today for me to borrow so I can teach myself!

Kwaheri ya kuonana everyone :-) (Goodbye and see you soon... I think)

September 7th, 2011

I've been in Kenya for 4 days, but it seems like a lot longer.  I've already seen the posh compounds and the slums..., the supermarket and the orphanages...

I'm now well aware of the fact that I'm a "mzungu" (white person), and am entirely used to people pointing, staring, and shouting "mzungu mzungu" whenever I pass anyone on the street.

Today I started my volunteer job at the school in town.  I have 2 classes: class 3 (8-9 years old), and class 4 (10-11 years old).  What can I say, I have never met children more willing and eager to learn!  A near scuffle breaks out every time I ask a question - hands shoot up in desperation to be the next person to answer.

The text books we use only cover African topics, so today I had to teach the class about clans!  Which was quite amusing, seeing as I know nothing.  They stared at me in confusion when I tried to pronounce the various clan names that I had researched.  In the end, I laughed, and said "why don't you guys teach me about clans, because we don't have them in my country".  Hands shot up, and I got a brilliant explanation!

However, perhaps the most shocking was the end of class.  The bell went for break, but no one moved, because I was still speaking.  Not a twitch.  Then I told them  "class dismissed".  No one moved.  I started packing my stuff, shuffling papers.  Nothing.  Eventually a boy stood up and said: "teacher, we can't leave before praying, and teacher has to leave before us".  So I grabbed my bag, and raced to the door, at which point the whole class stood to attention and recited a really long prayer.  This from a group of 10 year olds.  They also gave me a masaii bracelet as a present... which was so kind.

I also was given a tour of the new building site by the Sister who runs the school, and she filled me in on many miracle stories :-)

I do love the house where I live.  The family are lovely.  I look after 4 very cute but very crazy kids - all under the age of 5.  Etienne is 5, Lise is 4, Sammy is 2, and Babo is the baby of the house at 1.  Babo is so funny, he only speaks Kiswahili because his nanny speaks to him in Kiswahili.  When I speak to him in English, he just looks at me with biiig confused eyes!  The other kids are great, super active - always either playing or fighting.  But also keen to please :-)

Next post coming soon... missing you all :-) xxxx