Week 31 Update:
Masai Mara, Nairobi (Again)
Day 211:
Catt and I woke up half an hour before sunrise with the birds and the Aruba Lodge Rottweiler wanting to play Frisbee… Edward the Askari came around to explain the road and the locations of the exciting animals to us and shortly after we left camp as excited as Golden Retrievers approaching a dam. The first stop was Talek Gate to purchase our tickets and a quick chat to the gate guys confirmed exactly what Edward had told us.
It was a little strange, but we did not enter through the actual gate. We backtracked through the village and then headed west into the unmanned, unfenced and un-gated reserve. We passed some Masai villages and some huge cattle herds before popping out on top of a hill. The view was incredible! We were sure that we could see the whole of the Masai Mara and the Serengeti from there and scouting everything between us and the horizon through the binoculars I spotted our first herd of safari vehicles for the day. It was a small herd of about five or six, but they were definitely onto something interesting so we gave chase.
By the time we met up with them I immediately saw what the attraction was. It was that Cheetah that Edward was talking about. I couldn’t believe our luck! She was walking over the plains, pausing to check out some herds of Thompson Gazelle as she strutted her stuff with the six cubs following closely. We could see that she was on the hunt so we gave her some space. Contrary to what we were told to expect from the “rude safari drivers” everyone did the same. We kept and eye on her and she walked straight up to and passed vehicles that were parked in her way. The camera hardware on display was absolutely incredible and I quickly worked out that between the six vehicles we had well over $1 000 000 worth of kit. She however did not seem to care.
When we all spotted the next herd of gazelle we pulled out of the way and watched from a distance, about 400m away and on an opposite hill. The next second all hell broke loose and she exploded into a perfect Cheetah sprint. I had just about enough time to lift my camera off my lap and point it in the direction she was to see the dust settle and the Gazelle taken. Us, as well as the other vehicles did our own sprint to the sight and in a surprisingly orderly and almost organized fashion pulled around her in desperation to get the perfect photographs. You could hear her panting from where3 we were and you could hear shutters rapid firing like an army’s invasion. We mounted the video camera on the window pod, hit record and watched…
Suddenly the people on the opposite side started parting and with everyone re-positioned the cubs arrived, rugby tackling the prize and wasting no time at all getting stuck into their bloody breakfast. It was as incredible sight and the excitement in the group of spectators were as tangible as thick syrup on a mid morning sandwich. All the drivers were happy to show their clients the spectacle and all the clients, mostly with very expensive photographic equipment, were looking through view finders, getting repetitive strain injuries in their shutter fingers, but had massive smiles spilling out past the back of their cameras. We spent about an hour with the family watching them eat and interact and have some early morning fun.
While parked and watching the show we asked a safari guide about the possibility of wildebeest crossings. He gave us some vague directions past a runway and across a stream without a name which were surprisingly easy to follow. It seemed that in the Mara you could just point in the direction of desired travel and there were so many tracks, that you would eventually get to the place that was pointed out anyway. We found the runway and crossed the stream mere meters away from a pod of Hippo. I was glad not to get stuck! I could also see that there were no other places to cross this river, so we were happy with the directions we had received.
Along the way we saw some nice big herds of Buffalo and Giraffe and even a wildebeest herds a thousand or so strong. We saw a potential river crossing at the Talek River, but the herd was still fairly far away, so we decided to go the place referred to as “Serena Point” We bumped into the Mara River and started following that north. It was incredible to see the amount of carcasses in the water floating in between the massive Crocodiles and Vulture invested trees on the banks. Even the Marabou storks seemed to having a great time with the absolute abundance of food. It was also very clear that the fun was not over yet!
We found the crossing point and it took my breath away and made my heart beat fast! It was exactly as I had imagined it and I was pretty sure that it was the exact place where the famous National Geographic footage had been shot. There was a herd of around two thousand animals on the banks and they seemed to be determined to make a crossing. So we parked, and we waited. On the opposite side of the river we saw a film truck with some 3D cameras on and another photographer displaying his expensive hardware from the side window of his rusted Landy. On our side we were soon joined by a few other safari guides and by mid morning the herd started swelling in size. Every time we looked at the horizon we could see another troop arrive, in single file and pushing their way to the front of the cue. The front of the cue was where the water started, but it was also where the Crocodiles were, the Hippos were and a cheeky, arrogant but stupid Vulture stood facing the herd and stopping them from plunging in.
There were two potential crossing points and we were parked in the middle. The herd would gather at the one, get their hooves wet, get spooked by something and sprint away, only to gather at the other point and repeat the process. At some point two brave souls jumped into the water and ran/swam across to the other side. They made it to almost half way before a Crocodile stopped them in their tracks. They flung themselves around, ran back bucking and kicking and spooked the herd so much that half of them ran away, past the horizon we could see. I was not impressed! What did however impress me a little was the size of the Crocodile in question. Sun City Resort in South Africa commonly brags about owning the biggest Crocodile in Captivity in the world. I had been there and I had seen that one and let me tell you, this one in the Mara River was bigger! At a guess I would say it was twice the length of our Land Cruiser and possibly weighed about half the amount. The bad boy grabbed one of the old carcasses on the bank and started tearing that to pieces in a massive display of strength and defiance. The water splashed up high onto the banks and the unsuspecting tourists in the vehicles around us were visibly upset by the aggression, greed and apparent cruelty of Mother Nature. All of this, spectacular as it was, did not entice the herd to come back to the water’s edge though.
An hour or so later the game started again. The herd started swelling, the air started cooling and the spectators started gathering. We were, once again in the prime position to see the spectacle and waited patiently as the banks of the river filled up. The Zebra were at the edge first, but easily spooked. The Wildebeest started overtaking them, but every time an animal would touch the water it would get spooked and circle back into the herd. The front of the onslaught seemed to be caught up in a perpetual circular motion of non committal. It was amazing to watch the confusion and near desperation of the herd as it did not attempt the crossing, but at the same time I was getting frustrated with not being rewarded for our 6 hour patience.
At 16:30 in the afternoon the scene was like a ticking bomb! The herd was massive! I started counting blocks of animals to try and estimate a number and got to about 15 000 individuals. It was black and brown and stripy as far as the eye could see and they were edging to cross. The Vultures were visibly waiting in the trees on the opposite side of the river, the Crocodiles were in position and it seemed like the Hippo had moved out of the way. The vehicles gave the herd enough space to make a decision. The stage was set for something truly memorable and spectacular! At 16:58 two Hippo bulls had a massive fight in the river with splashing and snorting and making a massive noise! The herd got a fright, took flight, and in the blink of an eye the place was deserted…. I felt like crying, but also remembered the words of the Discover Film crew we had met who had spent two weeks waiting to see a crossing and never did.
We had run out of time and had to high tail it back to the lodge without delay. I reluctantly started the engine and pointed Maggie away from the river. I didn’t really feel like driving the same tracks back to the lodge, so randomly picked some that were heading in the approximate direction we needed to go it. This actually worked surprisingly well and we started seeing all sorts of interesting things in the late afternoon sun. We spotted a few HUGE Eland bulls which I did not expect to see there at all! We saw some Reedbuck in the small streams and we even saw another couple of Cheetah seemingly going for an afternoon walk ignoring the herd of Gazelle in their way. We saw Topi and Buffalo and Impala with the biggest hors I had ever encountered. We found the river crossing at the stinky Hippo and crossed that onto the airfield and past the Runway and driving over a rise we found the Mega Herd again, about 15km from where they had fled only an hour before. They were calm and seemed oblivious to what they had been doing the rest of the day. They were scattered over a vast area of grassy plains and simply grazing away without moving in any specific direction.
Arriving at camp minutes before dark we were tired, pleased and disappointed all at the same time. We had had a long day in the car again, but we did see some of the best actions Africa’s Wildlife had to offer. We had been privy to the forming and speculating of the biggest single herd of any species I had ever seen and the brutal destruction of flesh by the biggest carnivorous reptile known to man. The only thing missing was the advertised and documented madness of a river crossing very few people on this planed had ever had the privilege of seeing. Mark and Dena had had a similarly spectacular day without a crossing. The four of us, with Edward by the fire chatted away deep into the night discussing the behaviours of the animals and the rare and amazing things we had witnessed in the two short days we had visited one of the greatest game parks in the world. It was the first time in seven months that I had been completely blown away by a wildlife reserve and I wished that we had saved all the money we had spent in Tanzania to spend right there on the days that followed.
With the sad reality that our park budgets were in fact depleted and that we had to head back to Nairobi the next day I went to bed happy with the experienced we had shared and fell asleep to the sounds of the amazing bush around us.
Day 212:
The Rottweiler woke the birds in the trees that woke us as the sun crept over the tops of the acacia trees. I was strangely satisfied with the decisions we had made and while contemplating life and the universe I heard a strange and new sound right outside our tent. I peaked out the window and saw the biggest Baboon in the world silently and neatly untying the top of our rubbish bag before strolling off with it. The plastic litter was the only thing that bothered me about it, so I got dressed, put my shoes on and went in pursuit of the perpetrator.
It was perhaps not the cleverest thing to do as his teeth were definitely bigger than mine and he was definitely faster and much more agile than I was at 6:30Am, but one strategically aimed rock and accompanying shout from me made him drop the bag and scurry off into the nearest big tree. I retrieved the plastic and rubbish but felt a little sorry for the poor bugger, so left the vegetable peal on the ground, pretending to forget all about it. By the time I was back at Maggie’s side, he was sitting in the sunny spot on the lawn in between the trees thoroughly enjoying his breakfast of butternut and carrot off cuts.
By 7:30 we had had coffee and packed up camp and started the big 4.2l diesel engine. We drove slowly towards the gate, meandered through the big holes in the road through the village and started heading north. We had decided not to drive back to Sekenani and then onto Nairobi as we agreed that the first route we took to Talek from the Tea Plantations a month earlier had a much better road! The compacted and grated gravel had us follow a safari vehicle through the Masai villages and herders with their livestock. We had adapted a photographic technique of “drive by shooting” to avoid begging hands and confrontations and in the early morning light Catt was clicking away as we made fantastic time in our journey.
Our memories were obviously not so good. Before long the road turned to crap… for lack of a better word. It was maid from rocks compacted into mud and the teeth chattering; kidney bursting vibrations and bumps forced us to slow right down to about 20km/h. The safari vehicle did the same, so it wasn’t like we were just soft either. The Sekenani road had 30km of dirt, 40km of pot holed tar and the rest good tar. This road had 78km of dirt of which about 35km took us more than an hour. Once that was done and the graded gravel started again we were off to a decent pace though.
Past one of the last villages in the wilderness area I suddenly hit the brakes as a movement caught my eye. Right next to the road, slightly behind a bush I saw the carcass of an Elephant. It was a little shocking to see an animal that size obviously dead, but this one offered more gruesome shock. Its head had been cut off and the trunk was lying a few meters away. The movement that made me look in that direction was a dog eating at parts of the trunk. The whole thing was enough to make you sick to the stomach and there were only two possible explanations for the travesty: Either someone had poached the Elephant for its ivory and left the carcass there to rot, or it had died because of another reason and the conservation authority had taken the head and ivory to stop someone else from using it. Sadly I think the latter would have been the less plausible explanation. The only other thing I really had to say about that was: BASTARDS!!!!
By mid morning we had completed our mammoth task of negotiating the good and bad, slow and fast dirt roads and reached the newly built tar surface close to the town of Narok. Heading back to Nairobi I got terribly bored with the road and wondered how the safari guides who drove it once or twice a week must have felt. The only exciting part of the journey was heading into or out of the Great Rift Valley around the town of Maai Mahiu. We headed up the escarpment road past the viewpoints and stalls selling raw sheep skins and hats made from them and hit the outskirts of the capitol by mid day. We managed to reach the safety and comforts of Jungle Junction before stopping for lunch and were immediately attached by the Irish we had met there before heading to the Mara.
They were after information, but hardly stopped to breathe in between questions of where the animals were and what we saw. There were some new faces in the camp site as well and they joined in the fun to the point where we spent an afternoon in the shade of the big Jacaranda tree, sitting on chairs in a circle chatting about where we had been and what we had seen. We were obviously the Kenya veterans by then and I had to smile at the promotion we managed from arriving there just more than one month before, fresh from Uganda and not knowing anything about that fantastic country.
The fun afternoon turned into a fun evening accompanied by cold beer, good wine and great company. It was after all Saturday night, so sleeping wasn’t something that was highest on the agenda… Not with a merry band of Irish and Australians around.
Day 213:
Sunday in Nairobi wasn’t the most exciting day of the week. The businesses we needed were all closed and the mood in the camp site was slightly subdued due the late night we had all had. Catt and I decided to do a typical Sunday experience.
This involved getting up late, having a leisurely breakfast and at least two cups of coffee before showering. Even with all that done the Irish contingent in camp were still fast asleep and snoring in their tents in the shade of the corner tree in the garden. This was, to be fair, hardly surprising as they were still hard at work when we went to bed after 2am.
Catt and I decided to walk to the Yaya centre, about 5km away from JJ’s. They had a Masai market there on Sundays and although I suspected that they would offer exactly the same things, mostly imported from China, as every other curio market in the whole of Africa, I had little choice in the matter. The walk was pleasant enough and the streets noticeably quieter than in the week. We did see one traffic jam caused by a local with a flat tyre on her Mercedes. She got out and placed her red triangle a meter behind the car and then sat on the sidewalk with her mobile phone.
I had to smile a little at this… It was very common to be asked to show that you had warning triangles in road blocks and apparently the fine for not having them was quite severe. The thing the authorities failed to educate on was that putting them a meter behind the rear bumper of the broken down vehicle achieved SQUAT!!!! But hey, she did not break the law and she did have her triangles. The second thing was that the nice paved sidewalk we were using for our afternoon stroll turned into the main lane for the Matatus once the rest of the traffic got to a standstill. It was only when a city bus decided to do the same that there was no space for pedestrians any longer. So everyone on foot used the street and everyone driving public transport vehicles used the sidewalk. It reminded me of the bumper sticker I had seen years before: “If you don’t like the way I drive, get off the sidewalk…”
The market itself was actually surprisingly interesting. Sure, you had your sarongs and scarves which were mass produced in China and dirt cheap. You had your Masai blankets with their Ken-Knit tag on (Made by our friend Raj who owns the Naiberi Campsite in Eldoret) at twice the price of what they should have sold for. But then you had hand carved things, hand stitched leather wallets, purses and handbags as well as dresses and shirts and the obligatory Masai spears and other traditional weaponry. These had been adapted to modern day travel as the two meter long spears came apart in three pieces to fit into standard aircraft hand luggage spaces… as explained by the man dressed in the latest 401’s with designer trainers and T-Shirt claiming to be the “artist” from traditional and ancient Masai descent. By far the most interesting for me was the paintings. They were the usual brightly coloured village and wildlife scenes on cheap canvas you could buy anywhere from the streets of Johannesburg, through the markets of Malawi, Tanzania, Uganda and all over Kenya. These were done really well though! The one artist specialized in Masai portraits and the detail and accuracy was just mind blowing! Sadly, by the fiftieth time someone called me “brother” I got tired of explaining that I was looking in admiration, but not buying anything…. So I left. Strangely enough I had to catch up with Catt who had gotten bored of the market before I had. That was a first, but very exciting development for me as I saw it as the start of the end of curio shop wanderings. To be fair to Catt, she had discovered that the guys in the market in the parking lot were not only selling the same things as the two curio shops inside the upmarket centre, but they were charging more for identical things, claiming to be the “artists” and offering the best possible prices on the planet.
I did buy Catt a new wallet to replace the one she had lost two weeks before. I though two weeks without one was punishment enough. I even put a new bank card and some cash in it before handing it over. She seemed pleased.
By the time we walked back to the camp site the traffic problems had been solved and the roads were clear. This meant that we could actually use the pedestrian side walk, walk next to each other without a real fear of getting run over by a Matatu and have a chat about life, the universe and Sunday afternoon walks. We reached the camp site at exactly Irish “beer o clock”. It was also Halloween… So I feared the worst.
Fortunately it seemed that the party animals had peaked the night before, so after a quiet few beers and a nice meal everyone faded back into their respective tents, rooms and caves. We actually managed to watch a movie for the second time since arriving in Nairobi. This time it was not in the cinema, but on the camp’s 37 inch Flat screen TV, but it was free. We were the last to go to bed at around 22:30 and fell into a coma like sleep within seconds.
Day 214:
It was a bright and sunny Monday morning and we woke up early and feeling great! The mission for the day was to get “letters of introduction” from our respective embassies. These letters were a prerequisite for applying for a visa for Sudan and were pretty much an explanation from our embassies that we were who we said we were and that our countries requested that the embassy of Sudan grants us the visas in question.
First up was the South African embassy which was not listed on the South African made tracks for Africa maps. Fortunately the trusty Duncan at reception knew exactly where it was and it was while he was explaining this to me that I suddenly felt as if we had been in Nairobi too long! I started recognising street names and could drive to the embassy without consulting a map or GPS. It was easy to find and parking was easy across the street. What was not so easy was to explain to the very serious guard that I was not there to apply for a visa, but there as a South African citizen needing a letter from the ambassador. He let me in, eventually. I had to repeat the process of explanation at the door to the building and was directed to the third floor. To my utter amazement and pleasant surprise the friendly lady behind the counter knew exactly what I was talking about. She took a photocopy of my passport and asked me to return at 14:00 to collect my letter. I was a little sceptical as it all seemed way too easy!
Next up was the British Embassy for Catt’s letter. They were listed on the South African made T4A maps, but in the wrong place. We had to drive around the block to find the entrance and could immediately sense the utter paranoia of the place. The car park was guarded by more personnel than parking spaces and the entrance was so heavily barricaded that not even a tank would have been able to get in uninvited. The staff however was very friendly and after Catt explained the desired letter three or four times we were let in and shown to the office of the Consular. There the people knew exactly what we needed as well and as the lady took Catt’s details to put it into the computer generated standard form she told us that we had to pay for it. The fee was…. Wait for it… £65!!!!!! I was speechless! The Consular came to us in person to sign the letter while we waited and even he felt embarrassed by his government’s ridiculous fees for this letter. There was however no way around it and the only conclusion we could come up with was that they had to rip their citizens off to enable to pay the salaries of the complete army of security personnel guarding the place. We did walk out with the letter in question though and I was a little apprehensive about my own embassies charges…
We had a Hamburger Lunch in the Yaya centre while waiting for the clock to strike 14:00. Leaving there at the perfect time we had to explain ourselves again to the security guard outside my embassy as they close to the public at 12:00. My explanation was that I was a South African citizen, and with a flash of my passport he opened the gate. On the third floor the friendly lady saw me arrive, got up and handed me the letter I needed. I waited for the bomb to explode about the cost, but it never came. With great relief I told her about the UK fees and she actually laughed out loud, also finding it completely unbelievable!
That concluded the days planned mission, but we were not done with chores yet! At the start of our trip we invested in an Eezi Awn roof top tent as that was, according to multiple salesmen from multiple stores, the only Roof Top Tent that no one ever complained about. Not to put too fine a point on it, but the mosquito netting in ours had been ripping steadily and in different places since arriving in the really dangerous, insect invested and malaria stricken regions around the equator. It was time to remedy that and Chris had recommended a suitable tent maker for the job. The tent maker in question was obviously on the opposite side of town from where we were, but we felt confident that we had enough time to go and see him… which we did. The problem was discussed, the solution agreed on and we took the tent of the roof and left it with him. He assured me that it would be ready the next day…
Back at camp the Irish invited us for a meal. They called it something with a strange accent, I’d call it a braai and the other guests at JJ’s called it a barbeque. Collectively we decided to call it the “Kilogram Challenge”. We had previously found the secret butcher close by who charged the same for Beef Fillet as he did for mince…. This was about $6 per KG. So who would buy mince then? Anyway, the Irish had decided to buy a whole fillet for every man and a piece of fillet for every woman. They invested in a mountain of charcoal and as the sun was setting behind the big house, the cooking started. The first two to start their meals were “Podge” the Irish and Michael the man from Germany. They were halfway done with theirs by the time I joined the table with the rest of the meat, which I could hardly carry. There were six men in total equally sharing 7.4kg of steak. Half way through mine I started suffering and started planning my excuse for not being able to finish it. At this time three of the big boys had already devoured theirs and were looking at the salad and potatoes with some interest. There was one empty seat with a plate at it and while formulating my words about how I was half the size of the other guys who had eaten that mammoth amount of flesh, Dan the motorbike mechanic from New Zealand sat down. He was half my size and looking forward to his meal. Even the girls had finished with their modest 1/4kg portions and the only man not accepting the challenge was the wise Mark from Holland who had finished his ½ kg. It was only Dan and I left and many pairs of eyes upon us. I could not and would not let my country and race down though and with smaller and smaller bytes and a pause to reheat the last bit I eventually made it. The last bite was a ceremonious affair with the rest of the group being witness to it, cameras in hand.
Needless to say that there wasn’t too much space for beer or wine after that meal and I did not have any salad or potatoes. I had beef… and a little bit of pepper sauce and that was it. I could see that I was not the only one feeling slightly uncomfortable and it wasn’t too long before people started excusing themselves and sneaking off to their places of rest.
Our place of rest was our tiny little hiking tent we had purchased a few weeks before. We did put our comfortable mattress in there and once I managed to crawl onto it I did manage to achieve some level of comfort. I think Catt was the only one who did not over eat and she was awake enough to convince me to get her book from the car. So in a moment of weakness I agreed to make the journey. It was only three meters away, but with a kilogram of beef inside me, it felt like a mile long slog through a forest! I was just getting comfortable and was just about to fall asleep when the heavens opened! It was completely unexpected, but the storm was huge. The tent was so small that there was no way for us not to touch the sides and with that the leaking started within half an hour of the first drops hitting the top of the nylon. It was only a drip or two, to be fair, but I was suddenly very awake and very aware that it may turn into a very uncomfortable night in more ways than one.
A few months before we saw a tantrum or two thrown by a couple of travellers who had rented a tent at a lodge. The rain came and the tent they were in flooded and they were unhappy, cold and very wet the next morning. What I could not understand then was why they did not simply invade the living room of the lodge when they discovered that tent was leaking. Thinking about this incident I looked at Catt and said: “So, how long are we going to wait until it is too late to move into the house?” with that idea we made a run for it. Mattress and blankets in hand we arrived in the lounge semi dry, picked a suitable bit of floor space and settled in again. It was past midnight and although still slightly uncomfortable from the food I was ready to go to sleep.
Day 215:
Africa had a different idea! One of the reasons we had decided to have our tent fixed was because a mosquito or two managed to penetrate our safe haven every second night or so. We had had competitions in the lounge to see who could kill the most mosquitoes per night and right then, lying on the floor of the same lounge we were the only mosquito food at Jungle Junction… and they knew it! The first little bugger arrived quietly and sucked my blood through the skin over one shoulder blade. He left shortly after a feeble attempt at swatting him only to return moments later with re-enforcements! It was so hot that I could not stand being under the covers for longer than a few minutes and every time I came out for fresh air and a little cooling, a squadron of blood thirsty insects were waiting for me! My only saving grace was that I knew there was no Malaria in Nairobi.
At some point I braved the pouring rain and ran to the car for some anti mosquito candles and spray. This solved the insect problems, but not the paranoia and as I could still not fall asleep under a blanket I ran back to the car to get a flat sheet. By this time I was pretty damp myself, which didn’t help with the comfort level or irritation of the dire situation. As I was finally slumbering into a restless sleep I could not help but wonder if Karma was taking its revenge on me being so wasteful with food on the African Continent. It was 4:45 AM.
Not wanting to disturb the normal household and other guests we woke up at 7AM, dead tired and started clearing our bedding and things from the lounge floor. I made us each a healthy mug sized espresso, had cold shower and felt absolutely shattered and miserable! To top that all I knew that I was about to brave the horrible hill down into the city centre and into the industrial area… Again! I was in no mood to deal with local driving styles and heavy traffic and lawless idiots in charge of public transport. It was the day we had an appointment with Marcio to sort our exhaust problem once and for all.
The drive was not so bad in the end and we arrived just after 9am. Marcio greeted us and we re-discussed the solution to our problems. As promised he had ordered a new radiator fan for us to replace the one we bought in Lusaka after an unfortunate aircon fan belt incident. We had had two or three places on big mountain passes where Maggie’s engine was running a little hotter than normal and this fan size was the agreed on cause for that.
We settled into their comfortable chairs in their spectacular client lounge, opened our computers and in a total zombie like way stared at the screens trying to do a little something productive… which did not really work at all. We walked to a local take a way for lunch and eventually, after 7 long and tiring hours we were presented with an explanation of work done and the bill. The amount seemed formidable until I inspected the work. The man in command of the fabricating designed and manufactured three new supports along the length of the exhaust. They were well thought out, well made and well installed and the labour part of the cost was about 12% or the total. You couldn’t really argue too much with that. It was still almost $500 though!
As I was settling the bill the phone rang and it was trusty tent manufacturer informing us that our tent was ready for collection. That was fantastic news as I was really not looking forward to another night of fighting the mosquitoes and it really did look like the precipitation would start any second. The downside was that it was after 16:00 and the notorious Nairobi traffic which we had managed to avoid in all our rime in the city was busy building fast. The tent man was, obviously not anywhere close to where we were and the camp site was on the third point of the triangle. I did not care! I needed a nights rest and braving a little traffic seemed like a small price to pay.
We eventually arrived at the tent place at 17:30 and to my astonishment found the factory still open and the people there still hard at work. The owner wanted us to inspect the work first, which we declined and after getting the tent back into its rightful place of Maggie’s roof we hit the road again with a promise of an inspection and report once me pitched it at JJ’s. We had invited Andrew and Lucy, a backpacking couple from the UK to dinner that night and eventually made it back to our spot a shade after 18:30. It had been a very long day and it was not over yet!
Their mode of travel dictated that they would usually buy enough food to last them for the day of purchasing only. This meant a life of near vegetarianism which was, as can be imagined, in massive contradiction to the spirit of the KG challenge. I did not see myself having another kilogram or so of beef, so we cooked them a roast chicken instead, complete with salad, wine and chocolate cake. We got along like a house on fire and chatted about the placed we had been and seen and experienced well into the small hours of the morning… again! Jungle Junction was starting to interfere with our sleeping patterns.
Day 216:
We slept well and long and eventually crawled out of bed once the rain had stopped and the sun was out. I had no idea what time it was and did not care too much. The Irish were packing their car up which was a sight to behold and Andrew and Lucy was also just out of bed by the time we reached the kitchen. After a well deserved bucket of espresso and a nice warm shower I started cleaning the debris from the previous evening’s feast and by the time we decided to mosey over to the Sudanese Embassy for our visa applications it was twenty minutes before their closing time.
Everything had to happen really fast and we half heartedly waved the Irish good bye, jumped into the car and hurried down the road. The traffic was light and the distance short and was made it to the Embassy with time to spare. We had passports, photos and expensive letters of introduction in hand and knew we could get the application forms there. As we walked in I asked Catt if she actually read the notice on display at Jungle Junction about what documents were needed, as I stupidly had not. She hadn’t either.
So we filled in the forms and asked the lady behind the counter about the “sponsor” section of the form. She recommended a camp site in Khartoum to deal with that issue, so we obediently filled that it. I asked her about supporting documents mentioned in the form and right there our plan failed! They wanted a copy of our Carnet de Passage and, for some bizarre reason, a copy of our credit card… which we did not have. And even if we did, there was no way I was going to hand that over! So we had to leave, without applying… with no possibility of returning with the required paperwork the same day… which meant a waste of a day in Nairobi… again…. And I hated it! I was ready to leave the fair city in a cloud of dust.
So instead of being productive and achieving one thing that day we headed back to the familiar Yaya centre and the Copycat photo copy store for some copies and printing. That did not take that long at all and we were back at Jungle Junction for lunch. I was bored, frustrated an in no mood to be social so I started watching the tremendously shocking Quentin Tarrentino film “Inglorious Basterds”. This film was all bout some American soldiers killing off German Nazis in the Second World War and eventually taking out Hitler himself. It was only towards the very end of the film that I realized that there were two times more Germans in the camp site than the other nationalities put together and that movie was probably in fairly bad taste… Oh well….
I felt better by the evening, but still a little weary from partying with the Irish and the English and fighting with the insects. I was however greatly looking forward to sleeping in our Roof Top Tent, newly fixed, mosquito proof and water proof. We went to bed early and had no trouble falling asleep!
Day 217:
It was 8am when I started feeling hurried to get to the embassy. We had our papers sorted and stacked in two neat little piles, ready for handing in. We did not make copies of a credit card though. That seemed like a really silly idea, so instead we made copy of an expired debit card and blacked out half the numbers, hoping that they would not deny our visas because of it.
We went through the familiar ritual of signing in and getting searched and walked into the reception with careful expressions on our faces. The lady took our applications, checked them over and asked for the prescribed fee. Up to then we had been convinced it was going to cost $100 each. That was what all the documents we had read on the subject indicated and what everyone else seemed to have paid. She only asked for $50 each though. I didn’t really want to query it, especially as she asked for the fee in Kenya Shillings, which was abnormal and much easier to come by.
So with that process finally successfully dealt with we went in search of vegetables to replenish our supplies. It was raining at the time and we didn’t really feel like traipsing through mud in an informal market so decided to try out a greengrocer in a shopping mall. To our utter amazement their prices were cheaper than what we had been paying in markets. Not only that, but the vegetables were actually washed, looked great, we could pick the individual fruit to make up the bags and we were walking on freshly washed tiles under a water proof roof. Who would have thought?
We did get a little carried away and by the time we left we had so much fruit and vegetables that we could have filled our fridge twice! But we only spent about 25% more than the usual market visit. Jungle Junction also offered fridge space for the clients, so we managed to pack up the extras in their fridge.
During the afternoon some new faces arrived and the familiar ritual of greetings and information swapping took place while I was learning all about the inns and outs of Land Rover problems. Maggie also received a major service. The oil was changed and all nuts and bolts fastened. The prop shafts were greased, the diffs checked and apart from a suspected leaking shock absorber she received a completely clean bill of health. The Jungle Junction workshop charged less for parts and oil than what we could find in stores and their labour cost was cheaper than anything I had ever experienced in Africa. It was an absolute pleasure to deal with them… as usual.
That evening Lucy and Andrew reciprocated our dinner arrangements and offered a magical salad and a heap of beef for the fire. Catt made dough and we introduced the poms to the wonderful world of “stockbrood” This old favourite amongst my fair race of bush loving people involves making a sausage like dough thing and wrapping it around a long stick about thumb thick. Said stick would then be hovered over some coals until the dough is cooked. When it is done it slides off the stick without leaving residue and the hot bread then gets a douse of butter or honey dropped into the steaming hot centre. Once that is melted you start munching from the open end but you need to be careful not to eat your own fingers for lack of stopping the biting action. Judging from the vast amount of dough we went though we kind of thought that they liked the idea.
Dinner was a blast as usual and the company was excellent! We sat up chatting until the early hours once again and ended up being the last people around. Bedtime eventually arrived and so did the rain, but the tent held fast and we fell sleep easily!
If I had to do it all again:
One thing to say here: It’s time to leave Nairobi! We have had a fantastic time and we have met fantastic and likeminded people, but short of asking Chris for a job at Jungle Junction, there is nothing left for us here.
Part of the delay has been waiting for a couple of Australians who showed interest in accompanying us on the Lake Turkana Route to Ethiopia. We have not been able to get hold of them in about a week, so will probably have a go by ourselves. We have travelled to many remote places by ourselves before, so can’t see the issue with doing this one solo…
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