When we started planning the Simlieb World Tour, Nepal was near the top of the list of countries we wanted to visit. We love the mountains, and thought trekking would be a great adventure. However, as our planning proceeded we decided that carrying around down jackets, massive hiking boots, and other cold-weather gear would be a pain (and totally useless in all other countries that we were planning to visit). So, Nepal was cut.
As we found ourselves sweltering through our travels in Laos and Cambodia (and trying desperately to remember what 'cold' feels like), we began throwing around the idea of changing course and going to Nepal. Then we met another couple who were in the first month of a round-the-world trip who heading to the Himalayas for a trek at the end of March. As we chatted with them about our plans our jealousy grew, and we decided to make a dramatic change in plans. Vietnam, Malaysia, and Indonesia would have to wait for another trip - we were heading to the mountains!
We've just finished a 12-day trek to Gokyo Peak and Lakes in the Everest region of the Himalayas. It was amazing, and we were happy to be a less-well-traveled route than the uber-popular Everest Base Camp trek - the Base Camp route is very clogged at this time of year with yaks, dzubjoks, porters, and support crew for the elite mountaineers living at Base Camp in preparation for summit attempts next month. We were a bit worried that our lack of an exercise routine would hinder us, but were pleasantly surprised that our legs and lungs held out for our 11 walking days.
Flying from Kathmandu to Tenzing-Hillary airport in Lukla, Nepal (2800m) was a somewhat terrifying experience. Our tiny 14-passenger plane bobbed about as we barely cleared ridge-lines on the approach, and then suddenly we were slamming into the uphill runway. Fortunately our plane came to a stop before smashing into the barrier wall/mountainside at the end of the runway.
Trekking days began early with a hearty breakfast, then we, our guide (Phurba Sherpa), and porter (Lok) were off. Most days the distances weren't huge because we had to gain altitude slowly (so as to avoid being among the many, many people we saw with altitude sickness symptoms and being evacuated by helicopter). We stayed in teahouses along the way that ranged in size from extra rooms in family houses to large multi-room almost motel-like places. The rooms were universally cold, but fortunately we'd been able to rent down coats and sleeping bags in Kathmandu, and a box of insulating layers (and boots) had arrived from Carissa's mom just in time for the trek.
We must have good karma because we had wonderful weather for the trip - bright, sunny days with only a bit of clouds or haze in the afternoon. Two evenings we had fierce thunderstorms and awoke to 1-2 inches of snow outside (too high to rain), which only made the mountains look more majestic. Each day we had different views - from lower-land farms to rocky glacial lakes (well above treeline) to roaring turquoise rivers and glaciated mountains including a few days walking directly towards massive Cho Oyu (8201m or 26,906ft), the 6th tallest mountain in the world. The highest elevation we reached was approximately 5075m (or 16,650ft) near the summit of Gokyo Ri (peak) for sunrise views of Mt Everest, Lohtse, and Nuptse.
Unlike hiking in the uninhabited mountains of the US, while trekking in the Himalayas we passed through (and stayed at) numerous villages at very high elevations. Most of these towns are inhabited by Sherpa people who are said to have migrated here from Tibet in the 16th century. There are numerous beautifully ornate Tibetan Buddhist monasteries throughout the hillsides (ranging in age from 20-600 years old), and prayer flags and/or a stupa are nearly always in sight.
Our flight to Melbourne is boarding... we'll post some pictures from Australia. Many flash-back posts about Rwandan mountain gorillas and Southeast Asia are in the works, too.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Saturday, April 3, 2010
Post Bus from Hell
FLASH-BACK POST: post written January 23, 2010
Over dinner on the evening of January 18, we were remarking to a Ugandan friend, Benard Ssebide (who works for Mountain Gorilla Veterinary Project), that we’d been incredibly lucky while traveling through Africa as we hadn’t had any real difficulties with transport between places. Sure, we had a bus in Zambia that made everyone scream when the brakes locked up, we’d been crammed into a mini-bus with 22 other people (that should seat 13) for 6 hours between Mandimba and Cuamba, Mozambique, and we‘d been delayed a few hours between Arusha, Tanzania and Nairobi, Kenya with a leaking radiator, but no REAL problems. The next day, things changed.
We woke early on January 19 and walked to the main Post office in downtown Kampala, Uganda for our bus that day. To make ends meet the Uganda Post Service delivers people with the mail. There are plenty of private companies, but we picked the Post bus because we were told it was the safest. We imagined we’d be sitting on bags of letters as we sped through the countryside on our 8-hour ride.
We arrived at 7am sharp as instructed and waited patiently with many other passengers on the side of the road until our bus rolled up at 8 o‘clock. Despite our hour-long wait, somehow all the other passengers beat us onto the bus, so we were left with the seats over the rear axle with a broken armrest and window that wouldn’t open. The woman in the seats in front of us soon decided to switch her seat, so we upgraded to a window that could open and a functional armrest. Yeah for fresh air!
When the bus lurched a few times pulling away from the post office, we remarked, “That’s not a good sign.” We didn’t know how right we’d be.
Four hours later, we awoke to our heads smashing against the bus ceiling. Apparently, the wheels on the bus really do go round and round, and the people on the bus really do go up and down. As we were right over the rear axle, when the driver hit the Mount Kilimanjaro of bumps in the road, we went flying. This is an unpleasant way to wake up. Despite shouts of protest from the back, the driver continued on at full throttle.
Within the hour, we found ourselves broken down on the side of the road. We joined the other passengers in standing outside in the mid-day sun. For nearly two hours, we stood there while a mechanic came and went twice on the back of a motorcycle taxi while apparently repairing the radiator. We were close to the town of Mbarara and many people abandoned the bus if they were at all near their destination. We were unfortunately still about 3-hours from our destination.
Once the radiator was patched and re-filled with water we were herded back onto the bus. We were excited that we were back underway and remarked, “that wasn‘t so bad.”. It was at this point that a fellow passenger, a Slovenian man named Sammo, remarked that his friend took the Post Bus a few weeks before and broke down for 8 hours - we were feeling lucky. Ten minutes later when we stopped to add more water to the radiator, we regretted our optimism. Little was every shared with us passengers about what was going on, so when we pulled into a garage in Mbarara thirty minutes later our hopes crashed. We were there to have the radiator replaced.
A similar delay in the US would have everyone up in arms about the inconvenience, requesting updates, and demanding refunds, ticket vouchers, or at least a new bus on which to finish the trip. But this is Uganda, so that is not the way things went down. We were never officially told anything by the driver or any mechanics. Instead, whispers about our progress spread like gossip back through the passengers. We and all other passengers who had no other means of transport patiently waited in the bus while it was worked on for three and a half hours. Some people got off the bus, but never went far as they had no idea when we might suddenly leave. The adorable three-year old girl sitting across the aisle in front of us sang songs that made us smile as she lounged in her mother’s lap.
Rumors of an imminent departure circulated long before we actually left the bus garage, but eventually the repairs were finished and we backed out into traffic. It was rush hour and dusk. The ride was uneventful for the next two hours when we pulled over to the side of the road in a small, dimly lit village. From our near-the-back seat it seemed to be just another stop to drop another passenger off…that is until pandemonium broke out. Snapped fully awake by a whoosh, we looked to the front of the bus to see the driver standing over the open engine compartment in a cloud of smoke glowing orange and yellow. Fire! we thought and we scrambled for the windows on the right-side of the bus. As we prepared to squeeze out the small window openings (there was no emergency exit), the crowds outside assured us to stay put. We aren’t sure why we thought they had insight into our safety on the burning bus, but it gave us pause enough to look towards the front of the bus a second time. It wasn’t fire. Apparently, the driver was pouring water into the hot radiator and the steam was illuminated by his flashlight. Thanks, buddy.
With relief, we sat down again and were subjected to more confusion. Bits of information flew around the bus: “two people were out on the pavement on the left side of the bus bleeding,” “they were both passengers on our bus,” “there was a lot of blood on the ground,” “head wounds,” “they were hit by a car,” “they rushed out the front door during the fire,” “No, they landed on their heads when climbing out a window.”
Whatever was the real cause of their injuries was never explained to us. The atmosphere was very grave and we waited. We were told we needed to wait until the bus cooled down to continue. While most other passengers remained patient, we and Sammo began to look into other ways to reach our destination (Kabale) which was said to be only 20 miles further. Eventually we were convinced by other passengers that any minute we would continue. After an hour passed, the engine was started. One of the victims of the accident remained in the village - she might have lived there, we don’t know. The other victim was brought onto the bus and we continued. At one point we thought chest compressions were being done, but later his wounds seemed superficial. Nothing made any sense. Supposedly there was a hospital in Kabale, but if we were taking him there, the driver’s pace had no urgency at this point. One hour later we arrived at our destination. Only 7 hours late. When we arrived at the Kabale post office, the driver and ticket guy wished us a good night, as if the entire experience was just another unremarkable day. Fortunately for us, this trip was unlike any other day we’ve spent on a bus.
Over dinner on the evening of January 18, we were remarking to a Ugandan friend, Benard Ssebide (who works for Mountain Gorilla Veterinary Project), that we’d been incredibly lucky while traveling through Africa as we hadn’t had any real difficulties with transport between places. Sure, we had a bus in Zambia that made everyone scream when the brakes locked up, we’d been crammed into a mini-bus with 22 other people (that should seat 13) for 6 hours between Mandimba and Cuamba, Mozambique, and we‘d been delayed a few hours between Arusha, Tanzania and Nairobi, Kenya with a leaking radiator, but no REAL problems. The next day, things changed.
We woke early on January 19 and walked to the main Post office in downtown Kampala, Uganda for our bus that day. To make ends meet the Uganda Post Service delivers people with the mail. There are plenty of private companies, but we picked the Post bus because we were told it was the safest. We imagined we’d be sitting on bags of letters as we sped through the countryside on our 8-hour ride.
We arrived at 7am sharp as instructed and waited patiently with many other passengers on the side of the road until our bus rolled up at 8 o‘clock. Despite our hour-long wait, somehow all the other passengers beat us onto the bus, so we were left with the seats over the rear axle with a broken armrest and window that wouldn’t open. The woman in the seats in front of us soon decided to switch her seat, so we upgraded to a window that could open and a functional armrest. Yeah for fresh air!
When the bus lurched a few times pulling away from the post office, we remarked, “That’s not a good sign.” We didn’t know how right we’d be.
Four hours later, we awoke to our heads smashing against the bus ceiling. Apparently, the wheels on the bus really do go round and round, and the people on the bus really do go up and down. As we were right over the rear axle, when the driver hit the Mount Kilimanjaro of bumps in the road, we went flying. This is an unpleasant way to wake up. Despite shouts of protest from the back, the driver continued on at full throttle.
Within the hour, we found ourselves broken down on the side of the road. We joined the other passengers in standing outside in the mid-day sun. For nearly two hours, we stood there while a mechanic came and went twice on the back of a motorcycle taxi while apparently repairing the radiator. We were close to the town of Mbarara and many people abandoned the bus if they were at all near their destination. We were unfortunately still about 3-hours from our destination.
Broken down Post Bus near Mbarara, Uganda
Once the radiator was patched and re-filled with water we were herded back onto the bus. We were excited that we were back underway and remarked, “that wasn‘t so bad.”. It was at this point that a fellow passenger, a Slovenian man named Sammo, remarked that his friend took the Post Bus a few weeks before and broke down for 8 hours - we were feeling lucky. Ten minutes later when we stopped to add more water to the radiator, we regretted our optimism. Little was every shared with us passengers about what was going on, so when we pulled into a garage in Mbarara thirty minutes later our hopes crashed. We were there to have the radiator replaced.
A similar delay in the US would have everyone up in arms about the inconvenience, requesting updates, and demanding refunds, ticket vouchers, or at least a new bus on which to finish the trip. But this is Uganda, so that is not the way things went down. We were never officially told anything by the driver or any mechanics. Instead, whispers about our progress spread like gossip back through the passengers. We and all other passengers who had no other means of transport patiently waited in the bus while it was worked on for three and a half hours. Some people got off the bus, but never went far as they had no idea when we might suddenly leave. The adorable three-year old girl sitting across the aisle in front of us sang songs that made us smile as she lounged in her mother’s lap.
Rumors of an imminent departure circulated long before we actually left the bus garage, but eventually the repairs were finished and we backed out into traffic. It was rush hour and dusk. The ride was uneventful for the next two hours when we pulled over to the side of the road in a small, dimly lit village. From our near-the-back seat it seemed to be just another stop to drop another passenger off…that is until pandemonium broke out. Snapped fully awake by a whoosh, we looked to the front of the bus to see the driver standing over the open engine compartment in a cloud of smoke glowing orange and yellow. Fire! we thought and we scrambled for the windows on the right-side of the bus. As we prepared to squeeze out the small window openings (there was no emergency exit), the crowds outside assured us to stay put. We aren’t sure why we thought they had insight into our safety on the burning bus, but it gave us pause enough to look towards the front of the bus a second time. It wasn’t fire. Apparently, the driver was pouring water into the hot radiator and the steam was illuminated by his flashlight. Thanks, buddy.
With relief, we sat down again and were subjected to more confusion. Bits of information flew around the bus: “two people were out on the pavement on the left side of the bus bleeding,” “they were both passengers on our bus,” “there was a lot of blood on the ground,” “head wounds,” “they were hit by a car,” “they rushed out the front door during the fire,” “No, they landed on their heads when climbing out a window.”
Whatever was the real cause of their injuries was never explained to us. The atmosphere was very grave and we waited. We were told we needed to wait until the bus cooled down to continue. While most other passengers remained patient, we and Sammo began to look into other ways to reach our destination (Kabale) which was said to be only 20 miles further. Eventually we were convinced by other passengers that any minute we would continue. After an hour passed, the engine was started. One of the victims of the accident remained in the village - she might have lived there, we don’t know. The other victim was brought onto the bus and we continued. At one point we thought chest compressions were being done, but later his wounds seemed superficial. Nothing made any sense. Supposedly there was a hospital in Kabale, but if we were taking him there, the driver’s pace had no urgency at this point. One hour later we arrived at our destination. Only 7 hours late. When we arrived at the Kabale post office, the driver and ticket guy wished us a good night, as if the entire experience was just another unremarkable day. Fortunately for us, this trip was unlike any other day we’ve spent on a bus.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
The Pearl of Africa
FLASH-BACK POST: post written on January 16, 2010
We entered Uganda with a bang - literally - as Rich’s head stuck the immigration sign like a mallet ringing a gong. Being freakishly tall, Rich’s head has been the victim of many a low-hanging item in the past few months. This gong-ringing was particularly hilarious because it prompted everyone around to say, in near chorus, “oh, mzungu, sorry, sorry, pole, pole mzungu’ (roughly translated, 'sorry white guy').
Our bus ride earlier through western Kenya had been beautiful with rolling hills covered with tea-plantations. As far as the landscape went, there was little to tell us we had left Kenya and entered Uganda. Soon enough, though, our bus reached the city of Jinja on the shores of Lake Victoria. Jinja is considered to be the source of the Nile River and is unequivocally one of Uganda’s jewels. Large estates with massive homes adorned the outskirts of town and along the river, while the center of town was packed with more modest dwellings and shops. Our backpackers hostel occupied one of these old mansions and the 1-mile walk into the center of town was relaxing with tree lined boulevards.
Most travelers visit Jinja for white rafting, but we had stopped here as a fellow traveler mentioned it as a mellow town with friendly people to spend a few days in. He was right. We enjoyed biking around the town, having a lunch of frightening orange and blue biryani on the shores of the Nile, and watching flocks of Maribu storks dine a la carte from the dumpsters in the center of town. Carissa was particularly pleased with the “African tea” she was able to find in Jinja - tea steeped in hot milk and spiced deliciously with cinnamon, clove, and cardamom.
A few days in Jinja and we were ready to face Kampala, Uganda’s capital city. We expected it to be bustling and hectic, and it was. We managed to find a hotel (the magnificent Aponye Hotel) right in the middle of the downtown area in the wholesalers district. During the day the street in front of our hotel was blocked to regular traffic by large trucks being filled any type of retail good you can imagine. The sidewalks were jammed with young men carrying foam mattresses, bundles of rebar, boxes upon boxes of shoes, etc. There was a mosque across the street that’s loudspeaker prayers and devotees spilled out into the sidewalks and street several times per day, adding to the sensory overload. Motorcycles and pedestrians everywhere, making it impossible to walk side-by-side down the street; walking felt more like constantly fighting your way upstream.
It was pure madness, so Rich was particularly surprised on our second day walking around these areas when he realized that the madness felt comfortable, safe, perhaps even normal. Amazingly, the streets only a few blocks uphill from this area were completely different - broad boulevards with nearly empty sidewalks and (relatively) orderly road traffic. A few days in Kampala and many miles walked and our opinion did not change - the city just had a good energy about it. Incidentally, Kampala was the first city where someone tried to pick Rich’s pocket. Unfortunately for the would-be thief, his bright yellow shirt and floppy sun-hat made him stand out in the crowd as he passed us a second time, and rich was able to slap his hand away as he tried to reach into his pocket.
With coffee shops, good Chinese food at Fang Fang, and excellent chapatti from the Obamamobile (see Obamania post), Kampala met many of our food cravings and we enjoyed our time there. We had dinner with another veterinary friend, Benard Ssebide, and Rich enjoyed watching the Africa Cup of Nations soccer tournament with other enthusiasts. After a few days here we looked forward to seeing southwestern Uganda, but are glad we’ll get to pass back through Kampala on our return to Nairobi (for our flight out of Africa) in a couple of weeks.
We entered Uganda with a bang - literally - as Rich’s head stuck the immigration sign like a mallet ringing a gong. Being freakishly tall, Rich’s head has been the victim of many a low-hanging item in the past few months. This gong-ringing was particularly hilarious because it prompted everyone around to say, in near chorus, “oh, mzungu, sorry, sorry, pole, pole mzungu’ (roughly translated, 'sorry white guy').
Our bus ride earlier through western Kenya had been beautiful with rolling hills covered with tea-plantations. As far as the landscape went, there was little to tell us we had left Kenya and entered Uganda. Soon enough, though, our bus reached the city of Jinja on the shores of Lake Victoria. Jinja is considered to be the source of the Nile River and is unequivocally one of Uganda’s jewels. Large estates with massive homes adorned the outskirts of town and along the river, while the center of town was packed with more modest dwellings and shops. Our backpackers hostel occupied one of these old mansions and the 1-mile walk into the center of town was relaxing with tree lined boulevards.
A view of the main drag in Jinja, Uganda.
A bike with a very heavy load and some goats in a neighborhood of Jinja, Uganda.
Most travelers visit Jinja for white rafting, but we had stopped here as a fellow traveler mentioned it as a mellow town with friendly people to spend a few days in. He was right. We enjoyed biking around the town, having a lunch of frightening orange and blue biryani on the shores of the Nile, and watching flocks of Maribu storks dine a la carte from the dumpsters in the center of town. Carissa was particularly pleased with the “African tea” she was able to find in Jinja - tea steeped in hot milk and spiced deliciously with cinnamon, clove, and cardamom.
Maribu storks dining al fresco
Carissa and Rich on the banks of the Nile River, Jinja, Uganda
A few days in Jinja and we were ready to face Kampala, Uganda’s capital city. We expected it to be bustling and hectic, and it was. We managed to find a hotel (the magnificent Aponye Hotel) right in the middle of the downtown area in the wholesalers district. During the day the street in front of our hotel was blocked to regular traffic by large trucks being filled any type of retail good you can imagine. The sidewalks were jammed with young men carrying foam mattresses, bundles of rebar, boxes upon boxes of shoes, etc. There was a mosque across the street that’s loudspeaker prayers and devotees spilled out into the sidewalks and street several times per day, adding to the sensory overload. Motorcycles and pedestrians everywhere, making it impossible to walk side-by-side down the street; walking felt more like constantly fighting your way upstream.
Street view out of our room at the Aponye Hotel, Kampala, Uganda.
Kampala, Uganda
With coffee shops, good Chinese food at Fang Fang, and excellent chapatti from the Obamamobile (see Obamania post), Kampala met many of our food cravings and we enjoyed our time there. We had dinner with another veterinary friend, Benard Ssebide, and Rich enjoyed watching the Africa Cup of Nations soccer tournament with other enthusiasts. After a few days here we looked forward to seeing southwestern Uganda, but are glad we’ll get to pass back through Kampala on our return to Nairobi (for our flight out of Africa) in a couple of weeks.
Nairobbery?
FLASH-BACK POST: post written on January 12, 2010
Nairobi, Kenya is often listed along with Lagos, Nigeria and Johannesburg, South Africa as among the most dangerous cities in Africa. Car-jackings, armed robbery, and muggings are said to be common. With these reports, we were understandably a bit nervous about what we might encounter upon our arrival in Nairobi. Although we can’t argue with the statistics, we had no problems during our stay in Nairobi’s city center, and in fact found the area to be safe and enjoyable. That said, we’ve been conscientious to avoid walking around any cities with a lot of extra stuff with us, often avoiding carrying a shoulder bag. But here in this reportedly dangerous city we meandered through the streets while carrying a bag - and nothing bad happened! Yet another reminder that the news doesn’t always get the story right (would you visit New York City if the only information you had was what CNN reports goes on there?).
While in Nairobi, we spent a leisurely Saturday with a veterinarian-friend of Rich’s and his family. The Chege family (Stephen, Catherine, and their daughters Brittany and Patience) took us to the Kenya Wildlife Service (KWS) headquarters on the edge of Nairobi National Park to visit the Safari walk and animal orphanage. Stephen works for KWS mainly in the field, but was proud to show us the very impressive facilities at their headquarters where they care for orphaned and seized animals. It was a peaceful walk through some “bush” and since we were with the boss one of the zoo-keepers took us behind the scenes to get unnervingly close to a full-grown leopard. It’s growls gave us instant goose bumps and we were glad for the fence in between us.
What do veterinarians go to eat after a morning with the big cats then? Nyama choma, a Kenyan specialty of grilled mutton. The forelimb of a goat was brought to our table and carved up for out gastronomic pleasures. Gnawing the bones is considered some of the best meat, but Rich made sure to avoid the bit of fur that was still on the elbow of his piece.
Visiting the Cheges’ home was our final treat for our day with them. Situated only minutes from the main highway, the dirt road that we drove down to get their home by no means felt to us like we were still on the outskirts of Kenya’s capital city. Dodging ruts and rocks, their village had a much more rural feel with small make-shift buildings selling any and all goods lining the road. Turning left onto a hedge-lined lane, Brittany hopped out to open the gate to the parking area in front of their 4-unit apartment building. Pouring over photo albums in their living room, we were surprised to be introduced to another adult that lived with the Cheges. A roommate? No, she was live-in help. Apparently having a servant is not uncommon for the middle class in Kenya.
Although our experiences in Nairobbery had fallen far short of its reputation, we knew there was still plenty to be cautious about. Reading the newspapers we heard about hot spots around the city where car-jackings were common and unfortunately the police do not seem to do anything about it. After our enjoyable day we got a first hand glimpse at the fear that this kind of security situation must instill in many people living in Nairobi as Chege drove us the 15 km back into the city centre. As we were getting onto a closed highway from an on-ramp, the car in front of us was driving very slowly and Stephen became very nervous. He explained to us that getting boxed in by cars in front and behind you was a common precursor to a car-jacking. As we fully rounded the corner of the on-ramp and the car ahead of us sped off, we were relieved nothing dangerous had happened and we were happy to assume that maybe its erratic driving behavior was ‘only’ due to drunkenness (a major but generally overlooked danger on Nairobi‘s roads).
On Sunday, January 10th, we celebrated Rich’s 31st b-day by doing three special things: eating, eating, and eating. No birthday cake, but Rich was happy to get a birthday pizza and a magnificent dinner at Haandi Indian restaurant in the fancy mall in the West Lands suburb. After our brief visit in Nairobi, we headed off to explore Uganda.
Nairobi, Kenya is often listed along with Lagos, Nigeria and Johannesburg, South Africa as among the most dangerous cities in Africa. Car-jackings, armed robbery, and muggings are said to be common. With these reports, we were understandably a bit nervous about what we might encounter upon our arrival in Nairobi. Although we can’t argue with the statistics, we had no problems during our stay in Nairobi’s city center, and in fact found the area to be safe and enjoyable. That said, we’ve been conscientious to avoid walking around any cities with a lot of extra stuff with us, often avoiding carrying a shoulder bag. But here in this reportedly dangerous city we meandered through the streets while carrying a bag - and nothing bad happened! Yet another reminder that the news doesn’t always get the story right (would you visit New York City if the only information you had was what CNN reports goes on there?).
View of some of downtown Nairobi from our hotel room.
While in Nairobi, we spent a leisurely Saturday with a veterinarian-friend of Rich’s and his family. The Chege family (Stephen, Catherine, and their daughters Brittany and Patience) took us to the Kenya Wildlife Service (KWS) headquarters on the edge of Nairobi National Park to visit the Safari walk and animal orphanage. Stephen works for KWS mainly in the field, but was proud to show us the very impressive facilities at their headquarters where they care for orphaned and seized animals. It was a peaceful walk through some “bush” and since we were with the boss one of the zoo-keepers took us behind the scenes to get unnervingly close to a full-grown leopard. It’s growls gave us instant goose bumps and we were glad for the fence in between us.
Rich, Carissa, Catherine, Patience, Chege (Stephen), and Brittany
Leopard
Carissa's favorite sign on the Safari walk at Kenya Wildlife Service headquarters
What do veterinarians go to eat after a morning with the big cats then? Nyama choma, a Kenyan specialty of grilled mutton. The forelimb of a goat was brought to our table and carved up for out gastronomic pleasures. Gnawing the bones is considered some of the best meat, but Rich made sure to avoid the bit of fur that was still on the elbow of his piece.
Visiting the Cheges’ home was our final treat for our day with them. Situated only minutes from the main highway, the dirt road that we drove down to get their home by no means felt to us like we were still on the outskirts of Kenya’s capital city. Dodging ruts and rocks, their village had a much more rural feel with small make-shift buildings selling any and all goods lining the road. Turning left onto a hedge-lined lane, Brittany hopped out to open the gate to the parking area in front of their 4-unit apartment building. Pouring over photo albums in their living room, we were surprised to be introduced to another adult that lived with the Cheges. A roommate? No, she was live-in help. Apparently having a servant is not uncommon for the middle class in Kenya.
Although our experiences in Nairobbery had fallen far short of its reputation, we knew there was still plenty to be cautious about. Reading the newspapers we heard about hot spots around the city where car-jackings were common and unfortunately the police do not seem to do anything about it. After our enjoyable day we got a first hand glimpse at the fear that this kind of security situation must instill in many people living in Nairobi as Chege drove us the 15 km back into the city centre. As we were getting onto a closed highway from an on-ramp, the car in front of us was driving very slowly and Stephen became very nervous. He explained to us that getting boxed in by cars in front and behind you was a common precursor to a car-jacking. As we fully rounded the corner of the on-ramp and the car ahead of us sped off, we were relieved nothing dangerous had happened and we were happy to assume that maybe its erratic driving behavior was ‘only’ due to drunkenness (a major but generally overlooked danger on Nairobi‘s roads).
On Sunday, January 10th, we celebrated Rich’s 31st b-day by doing three special things: eating, eating, and eating. No birthday cake, but Rich was happy to get a birthday pizza and a magnificent dinner at Haandi Indian restaurant in the fancy mall in the West Lands suburb. After our brief visit in Nairobi, we headed off to explore Uganda.
Rich with his birthday pizza
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
