Blogyagi

I don’t know whether you need to have drunk half a bottle of vodka to appreciate this, but this picture had me in tears…

My new hero

I’ll be here…

Well, I’ve been away from the internet cafe for a while so I’ll fill you in on some of the things I have done in the last few weeks. In bullet points because I’m lazy. No photos for reasons you’ll find within.

• I went to the World Cross Country Championships in Mombasa on the 24th of March. Spent most of my time at the Tusker tent. Security everywhere because of alleged terrorist threats but the day went off smoothly. Alas sometime between the junior and senior races, some bastard lifted my wallet so I was unable to see the day through to its conclusion and instead had to walk back into town to the police station to get a police report. Only lost a bit of cash and my credit card so not too bad. However, my memory stick was in my wallet as well so I have no easy way to upload photos anymore.
• Flew to Lamu the next day. Was met by Bakhari but not by Zuhra. His last minute preparations for my arrival including putting shark liver oil and cotton in between the planks and she wasn’t smelling her best. Took her out for a sail up the channel the next day though and Bakhari has done a very good job of looking after her during my long absence.
• Tagged along on several trips with tourists to Manda Toto, a small island to the north of Lamu. Got horrendously sunburnt from which I’m still recovering.
• Spent a few mornings polishing and painting Zuhra. The days are too hot to do much at all so I usually knock off about 10, go for a juice and relax around town or sleep.
• Eaten a lot of lunches and dinners at various people’s houses. It’s been good to catch up with various people.

The power’s gone off and the UPS is whining so I have to go. I’ll come back and finish this in the next couple of days. I’m happy, healthy, enjoying Mau Lidi and looking forward to coming back and boring you all to tears with stories from Kenya and Lamu.

Well, I’ve been here a week without putting in an update so I’ll just put a quick note here saying that all is well, including both me and Zuhra. I have a great place to live and am having a great time. Internet however has taken a great leap backwards. I’ll augment/replace this post with more detailed information soon.

 Michael

OK, there’s a bit more here for you to read now. Some of the photos are linked to larger higher quality images, but because of the woeful upload speeds here I haven’t done this with all of them. You can tell by mousing over them.

I’m going to spend a few more days here in Bungoma and then head to the coast next week. I haven’t been able to get into my gmail today so if anybody needs to get hold of me urgently, call or sms my mobile on +254 728 670 526.

On Saturday after Cheserem and I eventually returned from Happy
Moments, Javan bundled us into the car and we proceeded around Bungoma
picking people up for the great Ugandan road trip. Our additions were
George, a civil servant from Bungoma, and Esther, a local teacher.

We made our way to the border town Malaba where we had a few
problems as Javan had forgotten to bring his identity card, but he
talked his way through and we headed into no-man’s land between Kenya
and Uganda. Javan decided that he couldnt go any further without
eating, so we retired to a bar by the Ugandan border post for a
feast.

This was my first encounter with the Ugandan staple dish, the
banana. It is prepared in a special way so as to ensure the worst
possible dining experience. The recipe goes something like this:

• Take a banana that is about a week short of turning into a
  delightfully sweet juicy expression of all that is good about
  the world
• Boil it and its colleagues in its skin for at least an
  hour. Ensure that any possible flavour leaches out into the
  water
• Remove the flesh from the skin and place into a pot with
  some more water. Boil some more in case any flavour remains
• Mash or serve whole as your preference dictates

The end result is something with almost as much flavour as a
boiled potato. Having said all that though, you get used to it and
by the end of the trip I guess I was starting to enjoy it. And the
Waragi and Coke that I was washing it down with certainly enhanced
the flavour.

An aside about Javan. For a teetotaller, he spares no effort to
ensure that I have something alcoholic to drink. I seem to spend a
lot of time with him either deflecting requests or slowly sipping
extremely strong drinks. Uganda was going to be no exception

Most African nations have a ubiquitous spirit which is
available everywhere, sometimes even bottled by the
government. Malawi has Powers No 1, Tanzania has Konyagi and Kenya
has Kenya Cane. Not having been to Uganda before, I didn’t know
the local variety. Before I’d even had my passport stamped, I was
served my first glass of “Uganda Waragi (Extra Quality Gold
Seal)”

I was pleasantly surprised to find that Waragi was almost
identical to Konyagi. The local rumour was that it was made from
bananas (what else), but whatever it was made from, it was
alright. The meal finished, we completed the border formalities
and drove towards Tororo, an imposing volcanic plug we could
already see in the distance.

The town of Tororo lies on the western slope of Tororo,
exploiting the rich volcanic soil of the area to grow tea, coffee,
maize and of course bananas. We drove through town looking for
someone who could show us around. we eventually found Moses who
jumped in the car and directed us through a maze of dirt tracks
until we came across a clearing where we alighted and started
walking up the hill.

We soon came across a cave which had been appropriated by
thousands of bats, and on Sundays the congregation of the local
Pentecostal church. We set on further up the hill. My extreme lack
of fitness and belly full of bananas and Waragi had me calling a
halt about halfway up the hill, where Javan, Esther and I rested
while Cheserem and Moses and my camera proceeded towards the top.

Even from where I was, the view was breathtaking, starting with
the farms below us on the sleep slopes, over the local golf course
and the town, with Mt Elgon (Kenya’s third highest mountain)
providing the backdrop. Once Moses and Cheserem returned, we made
our way down the hill and drove into town to buy the hardy
adventurers a drink.

On the way, we stopped to meet Moses’s wife who greeted us in
the traditional Ugandan way by kneeling on thr ground before each
of us and taking our hand. From there, we made our way to a flash
hotel where we bought sodas and enhanced them from the bottle of
Waragi hidden in Javan’s jacket.

We were all set to head back over the border before it shut at
8pm when Javan decided that I needed to try some local beer. Never
one to shy away from cultural exchanges involving alcohol, I
readily agreed. we drove around like tourists for a while, asking
people for directions to the groups drinking local beer, when we
finally found whjat we were looking for behind a furniture
showroom on the outskirts of town.

A group of people sat around a large plastic tub containing
what looked like a thick porridge. Each held a long narrow bamboo
straw to their lips, imbibing from the bubbling brew, occasionally
pushing their straw gently into the pot to gain better access to
the beer within.

At first they looked at us curiously, but quickly some space
was made and I was given a straw so that I could join them as they
imbibed. The beer tasted like most African home brews, like a
sweet and sour porridge, and the circle were impressed that I was
able to drink it.

This ritualised beer drinking was a typically African affair,
highly social and organised, and while we sat around drinking,
various members of the group stood up and introduced themselves
while welcoming us. There was the chairman, the secretary, the
treasurer (a large woman who looked like she could down the whole
bucket in one go), and so on around the group, each person
describing the important role they had, from sourcing the beer, to
the boy who collected the firewood which warmed the brew.

I never found out exactly, but either thr beer, the ritual or
the group I joined was called chambla. After all the speeches, I
felt I should contribute, so I stood up and introduced myself in
my faltering Kiswahili, said where I was from and thanked them
heartily for allowing me into their circle. Javan was keen to get
moving so we said our goodbyes and returned into town.

Having missed the border closing, we needed to find somewhere
to sleep in Tororo. Thus began about two hours of driving around
town, inspecting rooms and haggling over prices, made more
difficult by a heavy thunderstorm and subsequent
blackout. However, I wasn’t feeling a lot of pain by this point
and was happily led from room to room through the mud while the
more choosy amongst us made their selections. Early in the piece
Cheserem and I had decided to save money and take a twin room at
the New Life Hotel.

Once everybody had settled, we set out to sample the best of
Tororo’s nightlife. George had hooked up with a Kenyan student
studying in Uganda and she took us to a nightclub which had an
impressive array of UV lighting. It was like dancing in a sea of
teeth but my Rarotongan shirt ensured that I stood out amongst the
crowd. that or my outstanding sense of rhythm. I can’t be sure.

As everybody grew tired, we retired to our respective
hotels. The New Life even by African standards was a brothel and
no sooner had we sat down for a nightcap than we were literally
covered in hookers. I even had one on each knee fighting at one
point. Needless to say, that last beer went down fairly quickly
and we headed to bed. The plaintive knocks of the women on the
door was the last i heard before I fell asleep.

And that was my day in Uganda. The following morning after
banana soup with tomatoes and onions, we returned to the border
and on to Bungoma

This is a placeholder for a post I haven’t written yet about the wonderful town of Bungoma in Western Kenya.

I was pretty heavily jetlagged upon arrival and slept for most of
the time I was in Nairobi, so didn’t do too much before Javan came to
pick me up on Wednesday. I did spend some time doing things that I
couldn’t afford to last time I was living here. For those who have
been there, the following keywords describe my time fairly well:

• River Road
• Merungi
• Florida 2000
• Nakumatt Mega
• Carnivore
• Nyama Choma

Some photos from my hotel room, the 6th floor of the plush Ambassadeur. The lift is slower than ever but I need the exercise anyway.

Nairobi’s Moi Avenue by day

Nairobi’s Moi Avenue by night

Nairobi’s River Road Area by day

Nairobi’s River Road Area by night

The flight from Dubai was uneventful. The skies were clear and
I used the in seat TV to watch the external camera showing the
view looking straight down. Kind of like Google Maps but for
real. If you want to play along at home, we passed over:

• Saudi Arabia’s Empty Quarter (big sand dunes),
• Oman (as above with the occasional man-made oasis),
• Yemen (rocky desert and dry river beds. No signs of life
  except on the coast),
• The Gulf of Aden (water),
• Puntland, Somalia (rocky desert, dusty towns. My imagination
  added camel trains and mad mullahs),
• Ethiopia (first greenery as the desert gave way to the
  fertile highlands),
• and finally Kenya. The clouds had moved in by this stage but
  Mount Kenya managed to raise its top through. Unlike the last
  time I flew by there was no snow at the summit. Global
  warming apparently.

Despite my body clock registering about 4 in the morning, I
“forced” down a few drinks to prepare me for dealing with Kenyan
Immigration. Last time I came through Jomo Kenyatta, I spent hours
in the hands of officers who were sure I was a dangerous drug
smuggler, being poked and prodded and made to sit upon a perspex
toilet while a man with rubber gloves eagerly awaited the contents
of my bowels.

Not being a German porn star, I had found the whole process
quite distasteful. This time however, apart from waiting for about
an hour for my bag, everything went smoothly and I was out of the
airport and on the streets of Nairobi for the first time in over
two years.

but struggling to find decent internet. Have stories to upload when I do. Have been to Uganda, drunk far too much traditional beer, slept in brothels, eaten goat’s balls and all in all had a very good time.

It’s 7 in the morning here in Dubai and I’ve got a couple of hours before my flight to Nairobi. The internet cafe I’m using is somewhat locked down so I won’t be uploading any pictures, but since I wrote last I’ve had a very relaxing time in New Zealand catching up with Mike, Andrew and families.

Last weekend we all went up to Gisborne (the easternmost point of New Zealand) and stayed on a property with Mike and Andy’s Uncle Rob. Amongst general debauchery involving vodka and table tennis, we found time to go fishing on the longest jetty in the Southern Hemisphere. We didn’t manage to catch anything but the scenery was nice.

Then on Tuesday Mike, Sauda, Ali Issa, Omar and I piled into Mike’s stationwagon and went on another road trip. This time we went to Tokaanu (pronounced Tow Car Now apparently) on the shores of Lake Taupo where we stayed in the restored Post Office, complete with a thermal pool in the backyard heated by the nearby geothermal pools.

It seems that quite a bit of the North Island of New Zealand is situated fairly close to large angry bubbles of molten rock alarmingly close to the surface. Very pretty for the tourists and all but it will have to blow one day. None of this was going through my mind as I lay in the pool the night before last with a cigarette in one hand and a cocktail in the other staring up at the stars.

My thermal odyssey had to come to an end though and yesterday morning we piled the family into the car and headed up the highway into Auckland to the airport. After relaxing in rural areas and small towns, Auckland was a bit stressful for everyone but I managed to get myself sorted for a seat. I had hoped that the stop on the way to Dubai would be somewhere actually on the way (Brisbane, Singapore etc.) but it turned out that I was going to stop in Melbourne.

So I said my goodbyes and made my way through. Not much point in duty free shopping because everything is going to be cheaper in Nairobi with or without duty so I just sat around, had a couple of beers and got on my flight to Melbourne, which was uneventful.

Melbourne was more of the same, except I was able to derive some amusement by watching the desperate transit passengers hoping for somewhere to have a cigarette before the 13 hour flight to Dubai. Australian and US airports seem to be the only ones in the world that like to torture their passengers in this way. I solved the problem by pretending I was back in school and sneaking a cigarette in the toilet.

The flight here to Dubai was pretty good considering its length (just shy of 14 hours in the end. Even at 4:30AM, Dubai is busy enough to require some circling. The screaming babies stopped after a couple of hours and the 500 channels of video on demand made things a lot easier to get through. I haven’t had a lot of sleep but I’m holding up fairly well at present.

That’s it for now. I’m only a few hours away from setting foot on African soil again for the first time in over 2 years and I’m pretty excited about that. I’ll be spending a few days in Nairobi organising communications and banking and so forth and should head out to Lamu in 4 or 5 days time.

Thanks go to Mike, Andy and families for looking after me so well while I was in NZ. I had a great time and look forward to returning for a few days on my way back. I have to go now as this computer is telling me my time is up, but I’ll be back in the next couple of days to update for my arrival and upload some NZ photos.

Until then…