After 18 hours of travelling I arrived in Nairobi. It took 45 minutes to get a visa and get through customs. The last bag came off the carousel 2.5 hours after we landed and my bag wasn't it. Kenya Airways couldn't tell me where it was, or when I would get it back.
Nairobi, I'd heard, was a dump - but I would't find out as I didn't get to the hotel till midnight and was being picked up at 7.30 to fly to Masai Mara. The driver was 45 minutes late and announced he needed another 10 minutes to fix his car.
This was not starting well.
Bush Surprise
The Land Rover on the early morning game drive came to a stop near the river, and a man dressed as a Masai warrior was standing there, Everyone in the truck turned round and grinned at me. Out you get, said the driver, he's waiting for you. A surprise on people's first morning, apparently. I'd just seen a sign saying 'do not alight from your vehicle'. Oh no, I thought, they are going to take me to some kitchy Masai village and make me take pictures and buy trinkets.
My un-Masai (he was 5'4") with the unlikely name of Dixon led me through the bush to a clearing where there were a number of tables and camp chairs set up, next to a delightful view of the river. Off to the right, hidden in the bush, was a set up with three chefs and a hot buffet. One of them cooked me a delicious omlette. A delightful surprise. I sat drinking my tea, looking at the river and the hippos snorting. Then I turned round as a couple of mongooses (mongeese?) came up to me and literally sat up and begged for food. There were a bunch of them, but I hadn''t seen any animal come up so close before.
It was a great day for game viewing. It had been raining a lot over the last few weeks - something I didn't appreciate until I was told that usually you had to drive at a distance from the other trucks because of the dust cloud that got thrown up. I was told someone had seen a leopard once that was literally red from the dust. None of that today.
Early on we came across a female, pregnant cheetah. It was sitting by the side of the road and studiously ignored us. Of course all the trucks were soon stopped next to it, as it looked around, but never at us. Some great close up shots. She wondered off a few hundred yards down the road, with us in tow. More shots, including a great one when she turned to look right at me for a second.
Later we came across a pride of lions - 3 females and 5 or 6 cubs, aged 2 months and 5 months. They had just fed, and when one of the females and all the cubs walked off and crossed the road in front of us, they were mewling with discomfort because they were so full. They then backtracked and walked past the truck - I have a video taken 5 feet away. What a treat! And the cubs were immensely cute - I wanted to get out and play with them. (reader, do not try this at home).
We also saw a lone zebra, just standing there- usually they are in groups, and grazing. The guide pointed out its torn chest - it had a strip of flesh hanging down. Probably lions, possibly the same group as before. It wouldn't survive long, said the guide - another cat would get it soon as it was wounded.
On the afternoon game drive we had another treat - another cheetah. For a while it just sat in the tall grass, again with a row of trucks stopped and snapping picks. Then it stands up and walks towards us - then through the row of trucks and over to the other side of the road. Then it goes into crouch mode - starts slinking towards a herd of Thomson's gazelles that it has seen. But they have seen it too. It never breaks out into a run - doesn't get close enough. The gazelles are protected by topi, much larger antelopes (called 'blue jeans' by the guide because of their distinctive blue-ish marks down their back legs). They are too big for a cheetah, and they know it. They enricle the cheetah, and one of them makes a run at it, so it slinks away - though not too far. Meanwhile the Thomson's have come back and are all staring at the cat - until of course it moves and they all scatter. It seems like a game of cat and mouse, with rather high stakes for the gazelles. Eventually the cheetah gives up and wanders off.
in many ways, though, the treat of the day happened late at night, as a complete surprise. I was sitting at the lodge flicking through my shots on my ipad, and looked up to the perimeter wall about 30 yards away. There, caught in the lights but half in shadows, was a giraffe, sticking its head over the wall. It just stared at us for 10 minutes, not moving. I think it had been attracted by a gardenia tree (their favourite) and then was fascinated by the lgiths and activity. By the time I had got my camera it had started to move away - still a couple of great shots, but I would have loved to catch it just looking at us.
a lot more pics here:
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Interlude
Never fly on a DC3. I've been on big jets, and other than the odd bump, they are fine. I've been on small prop planes, and they are ok, tho I do get a bit queasy. But a DC3 - not only do you have to climb a steep angle just to get to the front of the plane after you clamber in through the cargo bay, but it is bumpy ride. I'm talking 6 people throwing up bumpy ride, including 2 on my row. I managed to keep my lunch but I can't say it was fun. Especially not on a 2 hour flight. And it was a bright sunny day - it's not as if we were flying through a thunderstorm.
Watamu
The house I'm staying at could use a lick of paint, but it's nice and comfortable and has 2 staff (so much for roughing it with the orphans....). It's 50 yards from the sea, with an avenue of palm trees just in case you get lost.
Kids
Day 1 at the orphanage - they weren't expecting me. Not just not expecting me that day, but not expecting me at all - it seems that the organiser is someone who just lobs people at them every now and again and keeps the money. So it's not as if there is a programme for us - since it's the school holidays at the moment, we just play with them. I have the double edged sword of showing them my iphone and taking pictures and videos of them, which keeps them entertained for hours - but it also means that they are on me all the time, saying 'me, me, picture me' or 'look picture, look picture' to see what I've taken, and then pinch and zoom it endlessly. Mercifully I've only lost one picture. It does mean that it is a bit overwhelming - there are 35 of them, and I'm with Laura, an Aussie, so we tend to split into boys and girls. It's the noise that is the most overwhelming, so we both find we can do about 2 hours a day and then call it quits. School starts on Tuesday so it will be a bit more structured, and Laura, who is here for at least another 6 weeks, will no doubt be teaching them English. My role is most likely just to play with them. They don't miss a thing - on day 2 I walked in and they were all shouting 'Uncle Justin, Uncle Justin', whereas I can barely remember the names of 2 of them - and they know I am here for 1 week, and that Laura is here for 6 weeks, and they found out Laura was from Australia, so they all start chanting 'Auntie Patricia, Auntie Patricia', who was the last Aussie volunteer.
It's well run and the kids are clearly not going hungry - I've shared 2 meals with them and there is no grabbing and no bolting of food - there isn't even that big a rush to get the food. That's good to see, because apparently some of them don't want to visit relatives because they are likely to go hungry - though sometimes the reasons are much more sinister. Linda, the orphanage director, has told me some horror stories of what happened to the kids before, but in general they seem a happy bunch, and as of day 3 we haven't seen a single fight or sign of aggression, even though I've heard it happens (one of them destroyed his bed and mosquito net a while ago, despite never having had a bed before). They seem, on the whole, to be well disciplined - even though they go rather crazy every now and again, the older kids (12 year olds, often) will intervene if you say 'quieten down' or 'no, you can't have my camera' and they are polite and watchful. In general, very nice kids.
Pics here:
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That's true of the Kenyan's overall. I feel most of them would rob me blind, but on reflection I think it's just that we westerners don't understand a culture of bargaining - they just start at a much higher opening price when they know you are a foreigner. we got on a matatu (communal minivan) today and asked the price to the airport and he said '200 shillings'. I said 'it was 80 yesterday' so he just shrugged and showed us on. People always find a place for us to sit and look out for our stop for us. Almost everyone says 'jambo' and smiles when you walk past them and the smile is broader if you say 'jambo' first. Of course in the tourist towns there are always hawkers and touts trying to get you to buy or go into some shop - but they are a bit less persistent than, say, Cairo, and you can usually shake them off just by smiling and answering the questions but showing that you really aren't interested in what they are selling
Oh, and it's day 6 and still no luggage. I've bought a razor, deodorant and a pair of shorts and some flip flops, and am washing my clothes daily. If I am ever reunited with my suitcase, I will have way more clothes than I need. How appropriate, for this trip. Learning how little we actually need to get by.
Christmas Day
Two travel book titles that have stuck with me were "I Came, I Saw, I Lost My Luggage" and "There's No Toilet Paper on the Road Less Travelled". Both seem to be true at the moment. I woke up at 3am on Christmas morning and knew it was going to be a long day, especially when the toilet paper ran out. I'll spare you the details.
Thankfully I felt a lot better by breakfast time - it was obviously just something in the water - not even a 24 hour bug.
Day 8 and nothing on the luggage. Kenya Airways customer service auto-response said that they would get back to me in 5 business days - which would be on Jan 3rd, long after I am back in the States.
As I walked to the orphanage I reflected on what we need - I now have a razor and deodorant, 3 sets of underwear, a shirt and a t-shirt - which get washed daily. I have food and my camera battery has held up admirably (I take it out after every use). I could use better flip flops - my nice leather ones with arch support are in the luggage, and the ones I have are biting into my feet and causing blisters on the soles, so that I go about barefoot most of the time. I feel grubby ALL the time, but short of 2-3 showers a day and fresh linen clothes that is going to happen whatever the situation. I had ordered a MiFi - a personal wifi hotspot that I could plug in a local SIM data card and therefore have email in the house - but I'm making do with the 3g connection in my kindle, hard though it is to use as an internet device (with very slow typing) - and popping into town every now and again to use a proper computer. So I am surviving on much less than I though was a minimum. It almost seems amusing how much I packed for this trip, and how, assuming I ever get the luggage back (which at this point I am beginning to doubt) it will all just go back on the shelf at home, unused. And I get to be in a nice house in front of a lovely beach. I've discovered that though my diving records are in my luggage, there is now a global database of certifications so I can even go diving - that to look forward to.
The orphanage has been cleaned up spic and span, with the rocks lining the paths repainted white and all the trash picked up off the floor. These kids do not go hungry - the plates of beans and rice, or beans and lentils, that I've shared with them are huge, and there is no rushing or fighting - the older ones in fact bring me a plate (with a spoon - which they don't use) before they get their own food. This is in contrast to the orphanage in Nairobi that the girls visited, where the kids get one meal a day and not all of them have their own bed. In general, this place seems well run and properly provided for - though I learn from one of the trustees that Linda, the director, often supplements the budget with her own money.
I wasn't entirely sure what to make of Christmas Day at the orphanage, so will just write out what I saw.
First of all, the kids all get a new set of clothes, about which there is huge excitement. By new, I mean, new to them. Most people wear second hand clothes in Kenya, and at Christmas time there is a roaring trade as everyone 'upgrades' their wardrobe. The kids get one new set a year. You end up with the somewhat incongruous, and touching image of cutie Mjeni, wearing a T-shirt saying 'I love my daddy'. I'm sure she doesn't know what it means, and if she did, wouldn't give it much thought.
They had rented a tv and dvd player and were playing Kenyan pop videos. The kids were mesmerised - literally. The shoulders were hunched and their eyes glazed. I realise now that they have to make their own entertainment, all the time - so something that doesn't involve effort that way must be very different.
Two sets of white families showed up, and a black one, and select kids were wheeled out to sit with them. I know the white families sponsor some of the kids. It all felt a bit show-like - especially the kids sitting on the laps of the black family - they seemed far away, as if they didn't want to be there, as if they were toys being played with. As usual, it was time to test my assumptions.
The black family was not, in fact, a family - the man was the father of the two kids. His wife had keeled over in church at the age of 27 of cause unknown (autopsies are only done if you can afford it). The other people were presumably extended family. But the kids didn't seem particularly happy to see him. One of them is apparently too young to remember life with him, but the other one has a memory and apparently cries after all of his visits because it reminds her of her mother.
One of the white families disappeared shortly after - they were there all of an hour. But I talked to the wife of the other - they lived in England, and sponsored a kid, and the wife was worried because business had been tough over the last few years, and she was worried about paying for school fees for her own kids, let alone for an orphan in Kenya who had aspirations of becoming a doctor. But they had muddled through, and came every Christmas to visit with the kid. That's pretty impressive, to me. It's one thing to put in money into a kitty every now and again, or give some time - but going through personal privation for the sake of someone underprivileged - a humbling thought.
The kids were carted off somewhere for lunch and the adults had a meal - more lavish than the ones I have had there - with the black family on one side and the white family on the other end, with the director and trustee and me. Old habits die hard.
After lunch the kids put on a show for us - lots of fun, involving dancing and singing and all of them lined up in order of height. unfortunately I didn't catch it on video.
I got an extraordinary picture once I got back to the house - I was walking down to the beach and ahead of me, maybe 50 yards, where some kids in their Christmas finest running down to the beach. Two of them caught sight of me over their shoulders and spun on their heels to face me; posed - not as models, just stood there, waiting for me to get the shot; then as soon as I dropped the camera from my face, spun round again and ran off to the beach without a second look.
Boxing Day
Boxing day is one of the most exciting days of the year for the kids - beach day! Three rented mini vans come to pick them up and off they go.
Here's how it happened. The kids are running around, playing in the courtyard of the orphanage. As you can imagine, a bunch of kids with no external entertainment playing around is quite a noisy affair. Suddenly one or two of them stop, freeze, cup a hand to an ear. Shush, they say. Yes, it's definitely an engine. All hell lets lose - they are jumping, dancing, singing. As the minivans drive in to the compound, they see the stickers identifying each van. "ba-by booy! ba-bay boy!" they chant. Then the next one - "Me-ssie, Me-ssie!". They literally go wild with excitement. Again I wish I'd got it on video - they were dancing and singing like kids who have everything never dance and sing.
In the van the kids break into song - seem to alternate between songs in English and Swahili, though I think they are all religious songs of one kind or another. One in particular stuck with me - "Oh Lord we are very very grateful, Thank you Daddy, Thank you". Both the creation of a surrogate parent for the orphans and their gratefulness over something that most of us completely take for granted touched me and I got a bit misty eyed. I suspect most of them didn't know what the words meant or, as I didn't at that age when singing in choirs, didn't give it much thought. It was great singing too - both in harmony and counterpoint - pretty impressive.
The beach was fun. The tide was out so there were lots of little tide pools and the kids 'swam' in those - often not more than an inch or two of water. lost of splashing, lots of shouting.
Diving
I got three dives in on the trip - I wish I'd known early that they didn't need my physical card, because I would have done more. It was my first dive in 12 years, other than the one in DR where I couldn't clear my ears and had to abort the second dive because of pain. I was a bit nervous, but I went very slowly down the anchor line clearing every foot or so, and would go up a bit every now and again - and had a great dive. Once physical discomfort is gone, you can really relax down there. I'd forgotten what a wonderland it can be 50 feet down. The visibility wasn't outstanding, as there is a lot of plankton, but it also means there is a lot of fish. Saw octopus several times (unusual) and an eel, some rays, and just tons of reef fish. I particularly enjoyed a small school of blue fish with yellow backs - so pretty.
At one point I saw something to our left, away from the reef and over the deeper water. It was brownish orange and looked like a big clump of seaweed - maybe 5 feet by 3 feet. But it couldn't have been - seaweed doesn't float 50 feet down. As we got closer I realised it was a school of fish - but they were really close together, so that it looked solid from a distance.
Definitely more diving in my future.
After the end of the 'official' stay
I aborted plans to go to Zanzibar since I had no idea when (if) my luggage would arrive and it would seem to complicate things unnecessarily to move to a new location - you need to be a specialist to be able to handle multiple locations, air transportation, and moving luggage around the world and I thought that might be too much to ask of Kenya Airways
So I stayed an extra five days in the hell that was Watamu, playing with orphans, walking along the beautiful beach and going to civilisation (aka five star hotels) for the occasional beer or cup of tea, and a bit more diving. or just sitting on the deck watching the sunset and reading.
Having tried to harass Kenya Airways and finally been told that they had my luggage, and that they were sending it to nearby Malindi, I now had a real live person to email and asked her not, in fact, to send it to Malindi as I was worried it would get lost in transit and I would be back in Nairobi before it arrived. Oh, sorry, they say, we already sent it. So, I called the local office and asked them if they would be open when I went to go on my flight back to Nairobi. No, they said - but we'll give it to one of the other airlines and they'll have it for you. I crossed fingers and toes - I'd seen enough of how things worked to know that there were too many 'ifs' in this equation to have a guarantee of a joyful reuniting, with wiped away tears on both our parts.
New School Uniforms
I was there on the day they handed out the new uniforms:
On my last day, I went to say goodbye to the kids. This was rather a strange experience. Some gave the the equivalent of a shrugged shoulder when I said I was leaving, including Mjeni, whom all of us adored. Some were running around and were told by the staff that I was going, stopped, politely said goodbye, and then ran off again. And again others looked sad. Safari, whom I had pretended to teach to box, wouldn't talk to me - he just sat on the ground, throwing a stone at the floor, and wouldn't look at me. Feeling weird, I walked out of the compound gates. In the corner of the compound, the last bit of it before I rounded the corner, where every day Mjeni would come and say goodbye, were three of the kids putting their hands through the barbed wire - including Safari, who was moist eyed.
so that was my goodbye moment. took the girls out for dinner at a nice hotel that night; whizzed to the airport and (moderately painlessly) found my luggage after talking to several different airline representatives and them calling the Kenya Airways guy to come in from town; night in Nairobi in the nice hotel, with a hot bath (first one in 2 weeks) in (my own!) fresh clothes - then back to New York, stopping in London over New Year's even just long enough to go to a party. A wonderful trip.
