28: Nairobi to Voi (Kenya)

Kenya Pictures Here

Giraffe Pictures Here

Week 28 Update:

Nairobi, Timbila, Voi

Day 190:

Nothing happens fast in Africa! We all knew that. What we did not know was that nothing happens even slower in Nairobi and especially at Jungle Junction where it was so easy, relaxing and fun to hang out and especially after yet another night of heavy drinking with our new friends.

In fairness to the concept of not being able to remember names so well and all the other poor souls that had suffered from instant nicknaming, it was agreed that we would refer to Adam and Chloe collectively as “Moglove”, for the name of their website in the UK.

So… Moglove got up even later than we did and did about as much as we did during the morning hours of abusing the Junction’s free wifi. With the Duchies gone there was no rush for the showers and I do believe we braved it first, around 11:30. Before that I managed to catch up on the freshest gossip on my favourite internet forums, read the news online and even upload our website from the Mac for the first time since visiting Mukambi Lodge in Zambia, 5 countries and an amazing 18 weeks earlier. I was once again reprimanded by my dear wife for not investing in a smart phone before we left South Africa as amazingly, that would have been the easiest way of internet communication in Africa. I had to laugh a little at how she magically managed to turn every conversation into obtaining the latest Iphone after Adam entered our circles.

World news was a little disturbing. What they did report on was some unrest in Sudan due to a referendum and upcoming elections. Southern Sudan reportedly wanted independence and northern Sudan, obviously knowing about the wealth of natural resources in the south, wasn’t too keen on the idea. Our master plan put us in the fair country of the Sudan (The north that is) slap bang in the middle of the referendum and elections. We made a mental note to leave before the elections!

The next news item was all about unrest in Egypt because of their upcoming elections which were due around the time we were heading that way. Fantastic! Election year for all of Africa it seemed!

The most disturbing part was that there was no news on Rwanda. Robert and Clary, who went to Rwanda two weeks after us, picked up a local news paper in Kigali and then fled the country after reading it. That was only two weeks earlier. The newspapers reported no less than two grenade attacks in Kigali, no less than four people, including a UN officer killed at a roadblock, another road block saw the slaughter of 17 people on a bus and sixteen Hutu got Machete’d to death and the corpses thrown in a river in the south of the country. The Rwandan army went after some of the perpetrators and entered the DRC uninvited. The news reported on the UN arresting a Rwanda rapist in the DRC, but nothing more.

I stopped reading the news then and slightly depressed at the idea of the world’s political turmoil concluded that baking banana bread in the Cobb was the only solution.

That evening Catt and I cooked for Moglove. They had been on the road for almost five months and had reportedly only cooked five times. We felt it our duty to educate them on the pleasures of camp cooking and spoil them to a culinary feast as only Catt could conjure up using the Cobb and our trusty MSR stove. It all seemed almost too good to be true and even the weather played along!

Adam shared stories of how his mom managed to get a pre approved credit card in her dog’s name and how he used to shoot pigeons with an air rifle from his roof terraced apartment on the Thames. We obviously shared stories of travels and Land Cruisers which actually work most of the time. They had been stuck in Nairobi for a couple of weeks waiting for a part for the Unimog… This had been the third place they had been stuck since their trip had started.

Day 191:

It was Saturday morning in Nairobi and the natives were restless. We woke up to crowds in the streets, blowing whistles and the dreaded Vuvuzela we thought we had left behind in South Africa. Some sort of precession passed close by Jungle Junction, setting the dogs off barking and running in circles and forced us to face the reality of another day… not leaving Nairobi.

We had to force ourselves to leave the camp as our food stores were depleted to such an extent that we had only meat left. I found very little wrong with this ratio, but my Dietician wife had other ideas. Conceding that she was probably right, we decided to brave the streets of the big city in search of a grocery store. Fruit and vegetables were easy; we could simply walk to the corner of the street and buy from a well stocked, informal, insanely cheap open air market, as you do in Africa. Still, the thing that clinched the deal for me was that we were completely out of wine!

After much investigating and effort we finally also concluded that all our electrical problems were due to a worn out and damaged cranking battery that simply did not hold its charge any longer. This was by far the best conclusion for us as any other problem would have been from faulty wiring, which we knew little about. Apparently rough roads and long driving hours can do that to a battery. Who would have thought it? So our mission for the day was clear.

Moglove recommended a battery retailer behind a 24 hour super market. Yip, we were still in Kenya! They still had 24 hour supermarkets and I still had a hard time digesting the idea. This particular Nakumat super store was absolutely massive and had departments for everything and anything, much like a Wallmart of Tesco Extra… only bigger. The down side was that we found the reason for the early morning noise along the way. There was a football match between Kenya and Uganda that day and the stadium was right across the road from our chosen shopping complex. The traffic was horrific, but no where near as bad as a normal day in Dar es Salaam and besides, we had plenty of wildlife to entertain us on route. Every roundabout had Marabou storks guarding every lamp post and swooping down with astonishing agility to scoop up any and every bit of food littered by the Omni-present inhabitant of the African taxi/Matatu/ Minibus… or whatever you call them where you are from. It was like a match made in heaven and I could only dream about the amount of cash the Kenya government was saving on cleaning staff.

The super Nakumat came complete with parking and Askaris assuring us that we would be safe. A fully stocked and well planning department store was so novel to us at the time that we had decided to walk up and down every single isle regardless of whether we thought we needed something from that isle or not. It was about an hour and a half later we emerged into sunlight again to the swelling traffic and pedestrian volume on their way to the stadium. We had found everything that we set out to find and even, on impulse, decided to replace our ground tent with a smaller, lighter, sleeker one that looked like it had some build quality. Sorry Rocky….

Our next mission was the battery man. We found his store, had a chat and got a recommendation for a battery that he did not have in stock. I found that a pretty honest opinion, so left happy, still praying that Maggie would start when I turned the key. This I had down to a fine art by then. I knew that if the engine did not take on the third revolution of cranking, the battery would not crank it again. I had only failed once in the previous two days and then managed to jump start it from the auxiliary battery. In fact, the only time I ever needed help starting the engine was at the Cheetah sighting in the Masai Mara… go figure!

We had heard of and been referred to a seemingly phantom suspension expert in Nairobi called Rob’s Magic. Obviously yet another Australian aftermarket suspension specialist and I was fairly convinced their product would be similar in quality and price to all the other Australian aftermarket suspension people you found around the world. What I was however more interested in was shock absorber bushes made from Teflon, which allegedly were supposed to be indestructible. Rob’s Magic reportedly had them in stock. We followed the GPS to an industrial estate, braving some more football traffic to find that the Magic had moved, and no one could tell us where to. We had given up on that idea and head back to the safety of Jungle Junction.

Close to the Junction we found another Nakumat store. Not as big as the one we had just come from, but impressive none the less and in the same centre we saw a Java Café and a Cinema! The previous time we went to the cinema was about six months before our trip started, so we decided to treat ourselves to a bit of western normality on a Saturday afternoon while the masses of Nairobi watched the footie. Lunch in the Café was a juicy Hamburger and Chips and our selected film was called Wall Street and featured Michael Douglas as a crooked trader. It portrayed the start of the recent recession and the reasons for it and ended up being little more than a love story. We liked it a lot! What struck me most of all was that all the previews had films in 3D advertised. This had been a rare thing six months before when we were living in the developing world of South Africa.

After the film we headed the ten minutes back to Jungle Junction in relative peace but by the time we reached camp I felt sick as a dog! The day’s excitement had obviously taken its toll, or the oil in the deep fat fryer at Java was off. Needless to say that I skipped the rest of the day’s reality and after pitching the tent went straight to bed before the sun went down. What followed was a restless, feverish nights with vivid and deeply disturbing dreams. I remember waking up hot or cold and mostly uncomfortable all the time and every time I dared lift my head or open my eyes I felt like throwing up, so gave up on that idea instantly! Even drinking water did not seem possible.

Day 192:

Thirteen hours of attempted sleep had me right as rain again and I felt fairly relieved at not waking up with a fever and a confirmed case of Malaria. In fact, I felt awake, alert and full of energy and ready to take on the world! The world however was having a Sunday and was not ready to be taken on at all! The camp was dead quiet and even the two dogs were still sleeping in the shade of the big Unimog. In fact, Moglove had gone away for the weekend, leaving the truck behind, so the dogs had undisturbed shade for two days.

After showering off the feverish smell I managed to accumulate during the night I brewing a fantastic cup of the good stuff (Kenyan Coffee) we decided to pitch our new, small ground tent. This took all of two minutes, but we also decided to try it out, so we moved our mattress into it and changed the bedding. Fever smells really bad!

We lazed the morning away reading, writing and skype-ing to the parentals and for lunch, with an appetite that returned with great vengeance, I walked to the corner fruit and veg seller to procure an avocado. The chosen fruit was, predictably, the size of a small Pacific Island and cost about $0.08. Walking the fifty meters back to the camp site I did marvel at how easy life in Africa sometimes was and started wondering about how much I would miss that once our trip concluded. I stopped the nonsense of thinking straight away!

After lunch we hopped in the car and as the engine roared into life on the second turn of the flywheel, we set off towards the suburb of Karen, named for Karen Blixen who, amongst other things, wrote Out Of Africa. She was not our interest though. On the edge of the affluent suburb with it’s crappier than thou roads where a 4x4 was essential (Like most affluent areas in Africa) laid the African Fund for Endangered Wildlife’s Giraffe Centre. (www.giraffecentre.org) This was the destination of our Sunday afternoon outing in Nairobi.

This fantastic peace of land on the edge of the massive city and almost bordering the Nairobi National Park was home to some twelve Giraffes we counted and also plays host to the stately Giraffe Manor where reportedly Bill Clinton and Nelson Mandela had stayed. Kenyans had a thing about telling you about famous people who visited their fair land. On arrival we paid our entry fee and walked straight up some stairs to a platform where… there was a massive Giraffe bull eating from the hands of a tiny girl.

At the top of the stairs we received Giraffe snacks by the hand full, walked up the gentle beasts and held out the pellets one by one. With their dangerously long tongues they gently picked the food off our palms and even hung around for a little scratch behind the ear and around the neck. It was an absolutely fantastic, rewarding and unbelievable experience where we just looked at each other without expression or words and smiled often and much.

As the day grew on and the shadows longer more Giraffe came to join the tea party and we were introduced to Honey, the resident breeding female. She had been there long enough to be completely habituated and as demonstrated by the tiny girl, I placed a pellet on my own tongue. Honey expertly kissed me, with tongue I’ll have you know, and snatched it off in an instant. I did know that Giraffe saliva was antiseptic to help them cope with eating leaves from thorny bushes and that you could not contract any diseases from them, so the party trick was completely safe, but special in a very surreal way. Her young came along after a while and they were just too short to reach the eager hands of tourists in the platform. I leant over the barrier and reached down with my arm at full stretch and that was just enough to place the food on their waiting, salivating tongues.

Neither one of us really wanted to leave the centre, but the day was ending and it was time to go. I did not enquire about the rates of the Giraffe Manor, but from a distance it looked pretty pricey! We were told that the Giraffe go to the manor for their breakfast snack every morning and that guests on the second storey got to feed them daily.

On the half an hour drive back Jungle Junction we stopped off only to buy more phone credit so that we could fire off some sms’s to our respective countries to brag about our afternoon outing. We spent a quick half an hour selecting photos and uploading them to blogs and websites and went to bed knowing how jealous we had made a score of people in different parts of the world. I could not help but think about how fantastically ingenious the big bad internet was in globalizing our experience within hours of having it!

Day 193:

The day started on the same high as the previous day had ended. We woke to bird song and dog barking… at the birds… and leapt into action instantly! Our mission was clear. We needed a new battery, some engine oil and we needed to courier our passports to our respective countries to obtain visas for Ethiopia. People used to get them in Nairobi, but after our trip had started the rules changed and that was no longer possible.

I was always amazed at our raw talent for leaving our belongings strewn all over the inside of our vehicle when we hadn’t moved for a while or didn’t need to get moving early the next day. This day was no different. It took a good 10 minutes packing things away, but I did manage to get Maggie started on the third engine turn and without using the jumper cables.

As I let the engine warm up I packed the last of the things away that was covering my seat and Catt did the same. I then heard the most horrible sentence of the trip that far: Honey, have seen my wallet anywhere? That would be the wallet with the credit cards, the bank cards, the $300 in US currency and the KSH 40 000 ($250) we withdrew the previous day as well as Catt’s driver’s licence in. “Ehm, no, I haven’t” came the hesitant answer followed by the frantic but thorough search of the car. This meant unpacking everything we had packed and then the rest of the things we owned. It meant Catt double checking my areas and me double checking her areas and it meant asking the security staff and Duncan, the reception man. The wallet was MIA.

We sat down to catch our breaths and think about it and by lack of a better idea; we decided to retrace our steps of the previous day. We drove back to the place we bought the phone credit and asked around, but had to leave empty handed, disappointed but not really surprised. We drove back to the Giraffe centre and asked around and I was convinced that it was the kind of environment where people would actually hand a wallet full of cash in at the reception. Again they had no record of it and again we had to leave disappointed.

We stopped at another recommended battery seller, but he did not have what we needed either, so we moved on.

We drove back to Jungle Junction and desperately searched the car again. We even, and just for a second, looked around the campsite and campers suspiciously, but then I remembered the KHS 5 000 that was lying out in the open on Catt’s seat and that was still there when we got into the car. We had to face facts: The wallet dropped out of the car when we got out at some point. There was no other logical explanation.

The internet came in magically handy again as we used Skype to cancel the cards, orders new ones and even applied for a new driver’s licence for Catt. Apart from the hassle, our only other loss was the mountain of cash, but in the bigger scheme of trip finance, we were confident that we would be able to make it up over the following month.

Our antics took up most of the day and although we eventually made it to a DHL office and manage to print our visa application forms, we did not get a new battery… we did not get engine oil… and we did not in the end courier our passports off.

I wish I could end this story with… And then we found the wallet in the fridge, or something humorous like that, but alas, I can not. The wallet was gone forever and we were a little depressed about that. The up side was that I actually did have another credit card in my wallet, so our trip did not need to be put on hold while waiting for means to get money. That was our only redundancy.

Back at the Junction we saw Moglove after their weekend and their disastrous Monday and compared notes: They had been stranded in Nairobi for some weeks waiting for a part for the Unimog to be cleared by customs. This was a part replaced under guarantee and was invoiced to have a zero value. That was flagged by Kenya customs and they had spent six hours trying to clear customs… after it had been there for more than a week… unsuccessfully. Our day was actually acceptable in frustration comparison.

For the first time since we had arrived at Jungle Junction no one was in the mood for a party and after a simple dinner for two Catt and I went to bed early, exhausted!

Day 194:

Early to bed and early to rise! It was a brand new day and we had put the wallet incident behind us. Well, I was still allowed to tease Catt about it at the appropriate times and tell people that she was no longer allowed a wallet, but only sometimes… and only when I was feeling brave.

We were dedicated and determined to achieve our simple goals for the day and I couldn’t wait to start. We found engine oil at less than half the price of what the same brand cost in South Africa. We passed by the Ethiopian embassy to ask about VISAS. We knew the probably answer, but decided to ask anyway. We hoped that every overlander that passed through Nairobi would do the same and with a little luck annoy the staff so much that they will one day issue visas there again. Small things often amused us most. Catt walked inside while I minded the car. I didn’t have enough confidence to turn the engine off after our short drive which obviously sparked the interest of the Askari guarding the embassy entrance. He knocked on the window and while opening it I started to explain the predicament and reasoning for idling the car in front of his domain. He was however far more interested in the GPS than the idling engine and asked me to explain how it worked. At first I tried the scientific approach of explaining satellites and triangulation but the blank expression on his face indicated that I was loosing him fast. Instead I asked him where he was from. He mentioned some small village in the north of Kenya and as I typed in the letters, the machine answered faithfully. I pushed the “go to” button and the familiar pink line we had been following religiously for the preceding six and a half months appeared on the screen. The man was knocked out cold by this amazing technology!

Catt arrived back at the car, puzzled by my in depth conversation about satellites in space and the universe and the man on the moon so we left, following the pink line I had just talked about with a smiling Askari in our rear view mirror. I had a feeling that I had made a friend. We were on our way to the lucky third battery dealer in some industrial estate on the opposite side of the city. I knew that it was going to be hard work through the traffic but at that time had a better than fair understanding of the road rules.

When first arriving in Nairobi you may think that road rules don’t exist at all and it is utter chaos, which would be a fair conclusion. However, spending some time there you get to know the “code” that obviously replaced the rules when the government in their infinite wisdom decided to turn the traffic lights off to save electricity… or something. The first rule was it was not necessarily that the most aggressive person had right of way, as in Dar and Kampala. (There, I’ve done it! I swore never to refer to the fair city of Dar Es Salaam by it’s short, basterdised name, but I also never thought I’d refer to it so often… “Dar” is so much simpler.) Anyway: The person hanging a limp wrist out the window while moving it in a nonchalant circle actually has right of way. This limp wrist technique can be employed by either driver or passenger and the confidence in the code is so high, that it is usually followed by a blind turning in that direction regardless of what other vehicles there may be. I saw a guy in a mini stop a bus dead in its tracks using this technique. Obviously indicators don’t mean squat! Most people who do use them forget to turn them off again, or simply have them blinking away as a confusion tactic for fresh arrivals in the city. The thing to watch out of, while ignoring orange blinking lights on the corners of vehicles, is definitely the limp wrist! In fact, I started thinking that indicators may have been seen as nothing more than decoration, or “Bling”, enhancing the vehicles already brilliant looks.

The limp wrist technique can also be used to single a driver to overtake you. Although really subtle, there are distinct differences between the “pass me” signal and the “I will fit into this space and if you don’t let me I’ll crash into you just for fun” signal. It could best be described as a single half circular, clockwise movement with a limp wrist which could sometimes be confused with someone wiping the dust of the side of their doors. Once again this can be done by either driver or passenger and the fact that there nothing but sidewalk on the passenger side does not mean that you are not allowed to undertake.

If however you STRONGLY disagree with someone, or something another driver had done, or is about to do, you do what we started referring to as “the light bulb move” Imagine if you will, putting your hand head height next to your ear, fingers facing upwards without making a fist and twisting your wrist in the same way you would screw and unscrew a light bulb repeatedly and quickly with an expression is dismay on your face, that would be it. It beats the hell out of screaming and shouting and actually achieves the occasional apology from an obvious offender. It could even, when done with conviction and with the perfect timing, deter a prospective offender from doing something stupid in the first place. No one uses a horn apart from warning cyclists who are facing the wrong direction and who are seemingly oblivious to the approaching, speeding tonnes of metal or as a friendly greeting to other drivers.

Add to this the vast amount of Marabou Storks perching on the lamp posts awaiting the tiniest scrap being thrown out the window of a Matatu, which should never be confused with either limp wrist signal, and you get an hour and a half of fun braving downtown traffic in Nairobi on an idle Tuesday in October.

Chris from Jungle Junction directed us to the Excide battery warehouse. We were already the proud owners of an Excide deep cycle battery for our fridge and as it had done us proud thus far, replacing the cranking battery with the same brand seemed logical. The best part was that they had exactly what we needed at a very good price as well. While waiting for the serviceman to install the new battery, I marvelled at the solar panels and wind generators in the show room. I got excited about the advances in “clean energy” that I had learnt about along the way as well what the immediate future held in store. It has to be said that I would have happily installed the new battery myself, but according to the technician, I simply did not have the skill with a number 13 spanner to undo two nuts, to replace the tired battery with the new one and to redo the two nuts again successfully. He even made me sign a piece of paper to indicate that I was satisfied with the installation and assured me of the one year guarantee on the new hardware. I could see that he was a man who could get excited about batteries…

With that much success already achieved, we decided to once again go in search of the phantom suspension place, Rob’s Magic. On our way to the area we were told it might be we managed to mail a birthday card to Catt’s mom from the Kenya Posta. Nothing could be that simple though, so first we had to find a stationary shop to buy an envelope. The actual Post Office didn’t sell envelopes at all and the only reason I could come up with for this lack of foresight was that they were not actually allowed to make a profit or be a business. Any other explanation would not have made any sense at all.

Leaving the scene we turned a corner and were faced by a couple of mile long cue of traffic in the direction we wanted to go. I lost interest in all things suspension instantly and did a U-Turn, using the limp wrist technique and the pavement in the way I had been educated by my fellow road users. The closest shopping centre to our save haven at the Junction had a UPS office. Their initial quote to send our passports was 25% less than DHL and I knew that they used the same agent in Kenya. The friendly lady who helped us did however not instil much confidence. First she mistook the words “United Kingdom” for USA and then, as if by magic, she did the same with “South Africa”. At least we got to write our own envelopes and fill in our own paperwork and pay the correct fee as per her fee schedule. I was still not convinced that we would ever see our passports again, but what can you do?

We arrived back at Jungle Junction for lunch, proud and impressed that we had managed to achieve in one morning what we had been trying to do in almost a week. Determination was obviously the key!

Midway through the afternoon Chloe arrived back from the airport with their long awaited part in hand. She had had a magically successful morning convincing the customs officials that she was actually allowed to get the thing that was addressed to her and that it was nothing more than a circuit board and actually not worth anything at all. She had to agree some value and pay a small import duty to make Mr Customs save face, but it was negligible and she even got an official receipt for it. We celebrated our respective successes by sharing a freshly bakes Chocolate and Chilli Cake and some fine Kenyan Coffee.

Moglove had a dinner arrangements with some friends in Nairobi that evening. I thought that was a shame as we really got along incredibly well and we have really enjoyed having them over for dinner and a party one last time. We still had our dinner in our quiet corner of the camp site and politely greeted the few other campers who had been moving through the place while we had been there and went to bed at a perfectly respectable time. We had to, as we were finally moving on the next day.

It must have been just before 23:00 when I heard some voices outside our tent. Adam had a loud one, so it was unmistakably Moglove who had returned and was not ready to go to bed yet. We were only half asleep at the time anyway, so we got dressed, got out of the tent and raided the camp’s fridge for some beer. The party had started!

We sat around our table chatting away and sipping our beverages like old friends and by the time the four of us decided to call it a night, the clock read 2:30. It was fairly obvious that Catt and I would not leave early the next day.

Day 195:

I felt surprisingly good when I opened my eyes and when I looked at the clock the mystery was solved instantly; it was past 8:00, so we still managed a decent night’s sleep despite our early hour antics. Catt on the other hand did not share my enthusiasm for the new and exciting day. I could instantly see that things were not going to happen fast at all.

By the time we had showered and packed up and checked our emails for the last time it was almost 10:00 and even Moglove was up and awake by then. Deciding not to break the seal on our newly purchased engine oil container, I bought a little from the Junction’s workshop to top up and eventually, after another round of greetings and salutations we hit the road. It was almost surreal to leave a place after staying there for longer than any other place we had stayed in more than half a year.

Our adventures simply had to continue and our destination was a place called “The Red Elephant Lodge” towards Mombasa and according to the co-ordinates I got from Robert and Clary, pretty much in the shadow of Kilimanjaro. It was going to be a long drive, but I was ready for it and feeling strong. The first mission was crossing the city once again, but we had done this enough times in the week to actually know the short cuts! It took some time, but soon the road stretched out wide in front of us and the intensity of the trucks on in decreases exponentially as we continued east. All indications were that we would reach our destination by 16:00…

The fastest way to travel was often not also the shortest route and getting to the co-ordinates was one of those examples. We drove to the town of Voi and turned right (east) to almost backtrack another 80km through a part of the Tsavo West National Park. Up to that point we had driving on a perfectly good, wide and pot hole free tar road which I knew was about to change. This was a transit road heading towards Moshi in Tanzania and although gravel, and in a terrible state, you still did not need to pay park fees to use it. It was just after 16:00 when we reached the place we had been heading for and it was with a little relief after a long day’s drive that I started slowing down for the inevitable upcoming turn. It never came. Our given co-ordinates marked the middle of nowhere where the only sign of civilization, apart from the powdery dusty road we were on, was the famous Tsavo railway where the man eating Lions caused havoc in amongst the labourers about a century before. With some confusion and a lot of disappointment I pulled off the road and consulted all our maps and guidebooks as well as the notes I made when Robert gave me the co-ordinates. None of our other literature even mentioned the Red Elephant Lodge. There was nothing for it, we had to give up on that idea and seek alternative accommodation.

The next closest place was a lodge called Groga Castle Lodge some twenty minutes away. Turning off the main road we saw a big building on a hill, towering about 1 000 meters above the dusty, desert like plains of southern Kenya. We both decided that if we were the ones who had a castle in the area that would be the location of it, so headed that way. The GPs agreed, but our confidence in the device was a little wavering. Kilimanjaro was, predictably, obscured by the clouds that usually surrounded it, but we knew it was close.

As we came to the gate at the bottom of the hill we briefly reminisced about something that happened on our very first over land trip in Namibia six years earlier: We had driven for a long time to reach a place called “The Rock Finger” and timed it so that we would be there in the late afternoon light for some photography. Our maps then indicated a community camp site by the base of it. When we arrived we discovered that it had closed down a few years before and the only place to stay in the area was a lodge with the predictable name of “Rock Finger Lodge”. I felt horribly under dressed when I walked into reception and after trying not to laugh at their $400 a night a person rate our only option was to drive back to the town of Khorixas. The last hour was in the dark.

I apprehensively asked the Masai at the gate if they knew if the place offered camping. It was instantly clear that my Swahili was inadequate for the request and their English was non existent. They did smile and open the gate though, so we followed the winding path to the top of the hill where the castle was bound to be. I expected a car park filled with expensive 4X4’s and the sound of laughter from affluent guests enjoying their sundowners on some form of lookout deck. What I did not expect at all was to drive up to an incomplete building and to be greeted by a man called Davies, who was obviously there to look after the place with his two mangy Alsatian dogs and rusted Range Rover.

Davies told us that the manager had left for Nairobi that morning and that we had to phone the owner to get permission to stay there as the lodge was not operational yet. I felt a little more positive. Vicky, the owner was in Mombasa at the time and she had absolutely no problem with us staying at the lodge. In fact, she almost insisted that we use one of the finished rooms instead of our tent and even offered the services of… what’s his name… (Davies) to cook for us. She even told me how to turn the generator on for electricity and said that she would arrange everything with Davies as soon as she reached home. The drive would take her no longer than 10 minutes she said. When I put the phone down I couldn’t believe our luck! I told Catt that I thought that I had scored us a room and already indicated that we should offer enough food for Davies to cook so that he could eat with us.

While we were waiting for the call back Davies took us on the grand tour. It was a bizarre building with huge court yard in the centre. The second floor hosted some unfinished rooms (Read building site) and a finished lounge and bar with panoramic windows overlooking the planes far below and the big mountain on the other side. We were proudly shown the “traditional” beds that were planned which really reminded of a larder with mesh walls to keep the mosquitoes off your body while sleeping. On opening a window or two I also realized the necessity for the country yard. There was nothing to block the wind from hitting the castle for as far as the eye could see and I was pretty sure that Kilimanjaro would accelerate the winds from that direction rather than blocking them. I asked Davies to see one of the rooms we may stay in and with a little confusion we went to his house to get the keys.

While he was away, the return call came from Vicky, the owner. She asked if we wanted a room and when I politely answered “That would be great if you don’t mind” the kicker came: “Well, as we are not fully open yet, we will only charge you $70 a night for the room… if you don’t mind”. What I wanted to say was: “So let me get this straight…. Your place looks and smells like an absolute building site with only a lounge, one bedroom with shared bathroom and dining room completed. Your kitchen is barely functional and you have no staff at all. The view is pretty nice, but that’s about it… and you want to charge me how much?” What came out was: “Well, honestly, that is just way more than what we can afford. If we promise not to use any of your facilities, could we perhaps camp in your car park for less?” The agreed fee was an astronomical (For Kenya) $25 for the two of us, but it a damn side better than driving back down the hill and finding another place to stay in the dark.

So, not breaking rule no One again, we set up camp, facing the clouds where Kilimanjaro was while being ogled by no less than three Masai warrior Askaris, because we were perfectly safe, you understand.

The very first time we had encountered the Masai night watchman was at Zion Camp, outside Tanzania’s Tarangire national Park. I remembered thinking that he must have believed that he was invisible, as he would stand meters away from us, not doing anything, not saying anything, just looking at us and what we were doing. I also remembered wondering what exactly he thought he would achieve with his bow and arrow when the proverbial shit hit the fan. Since that first encounter we had come across similar people from time to time and somehow, strangely got used to the idea that the person responsible for our safety had no modern weapons and thought it his duty to be inside our personal space to protect us. This however was the first time we had three of them and to be honest, I felt a little uncomfortable. Adding to the mood was the fact that we could not communicate past greeting and welcoming each other, which seemed to happen every ten minutes without reason. I felt very welcome! I had also learnt that the novelty of new things wore off fairly quickly and within an hour they retreated to the steps of the building behind our chosen parking spot. They were then at least five meters away.

Not enlisting Davies’s help, we managed to prepare our own food and while the pot was stewing, we played a game of dice. This was too much for our guardians and within an instant they were surrounding our table to see what was happening. There was no way to explain the rules, so I resolved to be more emotionally happy when scoring well and less happy but as emotional when I did not. At least they knew who won and who lost as they definitely shared in the outbursts of emotion.

After dinner they were missing. Well, perhaps they were just invisible, but I couldn’t see them anywhere. This was just as well as my favourite askari, the skinny Alsatian on the tether, received the 250ml of UHT whole milk that could not fit into our 750ml milk container. He seemed pleased, and he was the only one who didn’t insist on being in our personal space the whole time! Once the washing up was done, the dice were tired and the wine glasses empty we decided to retire to our own castle on the roof. As my foot touched the bottom run of the ladder I spotted one of the Masai, hooded and standing in the shadows two meters away. I was convinced that he thought he fooled us, so I smiled and bade him a good night. He did not smile, but gave a little wave in acknowledgement.

Day 196:

It had been a windy night and the tent was flapping rather violently at times. We had also acquired a mosquito or two inside our safe haven, which helped explain the need for sleeping in a larder rather than under a normal mosquito net inside the lodge. I did manage to hunt them down and kill them one by one, so at least the latter part of the night was really peaceful! We woke up to a cloudy and humid morning, not being able to see the massive mountain we knew existed and wasted no time packing up and heading off. We did however use the shower to rinse of the worst of the red powdery dust we had managed to get ourselves get caked in the previous day.

Heading down the hill I felt slightly cheated by the money we had paid for the little we had received for it, but was still conflictingly pleased about finding a place to stay before dark. This day the road seemed easier to drive and especially as we were not in a hurry, almost pleasant to meander through the villages and wave at the Masai dressed in traditional clothes, going about their days in what I could only assume was the traditional way. I was tempted to get the cameras out, but the idea that we were allowed to drive and look without being harassed and without money being solicited from us was such a pleasant and unexpected experience, but I let be.

It was strange though, the pre conceived ideas that we had, formed after hearing stories of other travellers before us, about how aggressively the people marketed themselves and their heritage. The stories were so vivid and similar to one another that we both felt very apprehensive about the area long before entering it. Our experience was very different! Not only of the Masai in Masai land, but also Kenya and the Kenyans. The reportedly corrupt and aggressive police at road blocks seemed to ignore us. The Masai herders were more interested in their cattle than in us. The children smiled and waved at us without sticking their arms out begging and the woman tended to their homesteads seemingly thankful that we slowed down to minimise the dust as we passed them. We had not paid skin tax in the markets, the National Parks were almost affordable and apart from a warning about a dangerous road a week before; we had only experience positive things about the country and its people. Our only conclusion was that people travelling to Kenya straight after Tanzania would be hyper sensitive to all those negative things as they are thrusted in your face at every opportunity in Kenya’s southern neighbour. Shame really, as it too could have been a fantastic country to visit.

Just before the town of Voi we got pulled over by the police. This was the first time this had happened to us in Kenya, so I was a little apprehensive. The man wanted to see the driver’s licence and on presenting my South African licence he shook his head. He wanted to see my “international driving permit”, which I had, so I presented that. He checked our insurance and the licence disk on the car, wished us a safe journey and sent us on our way. Unfairly I was convinced that he would try and extort money from us right up to the point of him waving us good bye. Terrible what pre conceived ideas would do to you, I thought.

In Voi we turned towards Tsavo East National Park’s gate and voila! We found the sign to the Red Elephant Safari Lodge. It was only 97km from where we had thought it was and we only drove 112km in the wrong direction and back again to find it!

The brochure that was pinned up at Jungle Junction, which I never consulted for location, spoke of a water hole in front of the lodge, a swimming pool and affordable camping. When we arrived around 11:00 it felt like mid day in Namibia in the middle of summer, so a swimming pool alone would have sealed the deal. There was no real camp site to speak of, as with so many of the lodges we had found, but there was indeed a water hole in front of the lodge. The swimming pool was sparklingly clean and inviting and instead of a run down ablution block we received a room key which bathroom we could use. There was another water hole inside the park with only a fence separating the lodge from it and this place had some Elephants and other plains game around it. It was exactly what the brochure had said it to be, so despite the fact that could have made the beaches of Mombasa well before sunset, we decided to saddle off, enjoy the pool and stay the night. It did not take long to confirm that that was a good decision!

If I had to it over again:

When entering Kenya I should have known that 30 days would never be enough time in the country and I should have opted for the 90 day visa for $25 from the start. Now I know that we will spend much longer in Kenya, so now I have to find a place to renew my VISA. I’m pretty sure it would be easy.

Jungle Junction is a magical place and should not be missed! We spent a week there and it was time to go, but we are under no illusions. We’ll probably spend another week there when we pass though Nairobi again. So fair warning to those who travel through Nairobi: A two day stop over there is not possible!

Getting lost and getting the co-ordinates wrong: well, that’s part of the adventure. Sure, it cost us a day and a couple of hundred kilometres in fuel, but in the bigger scheme of things, we managed to see a part of the country we otherwise would not have visited. We do seem to have a habit of not planning ahead when we either enter a new country, or stay stationary for a while. As our next border crossing will pose a whole heap of logistical issues and new problems, this is something we should probably work on a little.