One Big, Happy Family

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Wednesday, March 14th

We were up at 3:00 AM and in a cab by 4:00, headed out to the Jomo Kenyatta International Airport in Nairobi to see my parents. Nairobi is wicked cold in the mornings, and I was shivering all wrapped up in nerves while carrying my now-massive backpack into the airport. I saw my parents through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the arrival terminal and I was hit with a new load of conflicting emotions. It was something wonderful to see them here, safe, in Kenya with me and Chelly. It was something awful to know that my trip was over. But, at least, something new and great was beginning.

They met Chelly and Chelly met them. I felt like Woody Allen: all nervous and neurotic and blabber-mouthed. They all managed to bond.

We took them into the craziness of downtown Nairobi just so they could see. After the shocks began to wear off, we bought our bus tickets and had some lunch. Crammed into the corner of a low-rate bus terminal, we ate chips and chicken out of little, black, plastic bags using toothpicks for utensils.

The bus ride was crowded and hot and painfully bumpy and I loved every fleeting expression of pain or awe or wonder or discomfort or incredulity that broke across Mom or Dad's face as we toured out through the city and into the countryside. They got to see Giraffes, and Zebras, Savannah, and forested hills.

We brought them to Voi in the early afternoon, and a taxi driver took us up to Chelly's folks' house. The parents met and mingled and tried to converse. The latrine was explained, and the bucket-shower system. I think I must have taken a long nap...

In the evening, we ate a big meal and shared gifts and stories. My parents wanted Javan and Elizabeth to have some smoked salmon and a book about Washington state. Javan and Elizabeth just wanted to share their home. But long conversations ensued and it was really way to late when everone finally retired: out of their comfort-zones, but happy, full of love, and excited for the next day.


Thursday, March 15th

We were up early on Thursday and ready to Safari. I didn't realize before this day that Chelly's family hometown of Voi is also home to the entrances to Africa's largest wilflife park: Tsavo East and West.

We overpaid for a driver and overpaid for entrance, but my folks were spending American dollars so it was really no big deal. The Safari was a great time. We saw a lot of little animals while all the big ones were sleeping, and I'm sure you'd like some of the pictures if you looked at my "On Safari" blog to see them.

I don't know if we ate anything for lunch, but that's immaterial. After the Safari excursion, we hopped into a red, gold, and green Matatu for a Reggae-infused voyage up into the hills of Taita. Me, Dad, and the Natty Rasta in the back seat banged our heads slow to great, old Marley songs of the deeply-religious and bassy sort you never hear in the U.S. A couple hours of that--passing wide plains, windy hills, green forests, simple villages--and we were through Wundani and getting off the bus.

We hiked the dusty hill-road to Grandma Zighe's place on the mountain, catching gorgeous views and gathering scores of children followers. I got caught up in a long conversation with a local schoolteacher about economics and sustainable development in East Africa. I was so caught up that I entirely missed Mom and Dad's first introduction to Zighe and the Wundani family. When I got up there everyone was smiling, Zighe gave me one of her rib-cracking hugs, and I took a seat.

We talked in English to those who understood it. Zighe railed on in Taita and Swahili (which I didn't even know she could speak) to those who understood her. We had a great meal. I toured my parents around the 90-year-old house on the hill, it's beautiful trees and bushes and views, it's family grave-plots, it's outhouses and cooking houses and banana trees. We saw the place where Zighe grows the corn, where she dries it, and where she grinds it into meal. Then we ate her homemade corn-meal Ugali with a mutton stew and fresh bitter grapes.

There were some simple gifts exchanged and a lot of pictures taken. The walk down the mountain was slow. We said our long goodbyes and waved at all the locals who came out to watch us pass. Another Matatu took us back to town.

That night, Elizabeth served us a wonderful Biryani that her and the neighbor ladies had made that afternoon. We slept not like babies, but like cats do when they find a nice place in the sun, or like ditch-diggers after a long day and a shower.


Friday, March 16th

Another 3:00 AM start for me and Chelly. We packed bags and one of the family friends walked us into Voi town to find a bus. He got us a cheap ride over the worst roads in the world to Mombasa.

We headed to Auntie Esther's house for showers and breakfast, and--as soon as we were ready--we headed into town to do our work. There were papers to be filed and lawyers to visit for certification of documents. I don't know, we did a lot of stuff--all the last minute busy work that had to be done before I left in order to get Chelly her visa to the U.S. It isn't easy.

Meanwhile, my parents thought they'd be able to do as many things in a day as they would in Hawaii. Against the best advice, they decided that a trip from Voi to Mombasa, some shopping, some beach-going, and the big engagement dinner would all fit into one day. I wasn't there to see exactly how it happened, but they were wrong.

Chelly and I found everyone back at Esther's in the afternoon, mostly frustrated and confused. But the little girls were happy to have met my parents and all the grown-ups were very excited for the night.

We rode to Mshomoroni in the back of Javan's truck. I love that place the best of all the homes in Chelly's family. I think my parents finally found a little serenity there after all those hectic days in Kenya. We took showers and had some late lunch and Chelly and I got dressed up in our Maasai gear.

You can read about the engagement party we threw that night in another blog. It was lovely and beautiful and fun and we ate a lot of food. But, somehow, after all that long day's activity, Chelly and I had a very hard time falling asleep at night.


Saturday, March 17th

This day was my last day in Kenya.

My fiance and I woke up very early to talk and to cry and get our bags packed. We got everyone ready early and we took my parents to the beach. It was a dream of my Dad to swim in the Indian Ocean--and a stubborn ambition, despite having so little time in the country. Well, I can say with pride that we took care of that desire.

The four of us went out to the beach at Mtwapa. We were invited inside by the security staff of a large, fancy hotel that looked like it must cater to rich Arabs. This was our base, despite drink prices ten times what we should have paid. We walked out over a muddy beach revealed by the day's lowest tide and we managed to find Ocean deep enough to swim in. It was hot and sunny and the water was cool. A great swim, a great Relax, and I got the sunburns to prove it.

We couldn't find a Matatu back, so I think we had Chelly's brother Stringer come to get us, but then I think we might have actually found a Matatu and we called him to turn around and go back home. He was there when we got to Esther's place at Backstand, along with a dozen other people. Another dozen showed up while my Dad and Uncle Kay were at the hotel next door drinking Tusker beers.

We had a big party. All the cousins and uncles and aunts that my parents hadn't met before were there now to meet them. The young kids (17 and under) all got gifts and got to open them in front of us. There was a bigger meal than I ever saw the rival of in Kenya. We had a big party and I got my chance to say goodbye to all these relatives and friends that had taken care of me during my two months as a stranger in this country so unlike my own--all just because we share a love for that woman that I love.

And then there was the ride into Nairobi.

My Dad has described that drive as the craziest and most dangerous experience in his life. Sadly, I can't say the same, but it was pretty hairy. We had a little car rented from one of Stringer's friends, and Chelly's oldest brother Moussa was driving. Our first roadblock was a chain of stopped big-rigs stretching miles-upon-miles in either direction. Our second roadblock was a literal one.

It seems that one truck or another had a breakdown, or maybe two big trucks collided minorly while bumbling and bumping in their convoys along one of the ugly detour-roads between Mombasa and Nairobi. You see, there's a Chinese firm building a new highway there and in the meantime, cars and trucks (and semi-trucks) are constrained to some awful little detours. We saw hundreds of truckers stopped there, probably for hours or even days, because--like a union--they refuse to carry on driving while one of their comrades is stalled or halted, especially if the problem is a direct consequence of the awful, unsafe road-conditions they are forced to work with.

Moussa took us off-road through the small villages and fields to find that main highway. We got there and found that the Chinese dump-trucks and bulldozers had been used to blockade all approaches to the unfinished road after waves and waves of frustrated drivers had attempted to use it. We got stuck in dirt and trapped behind blockades and ended up back on the road with all the trucks. But we got back over to the Chinese road again, and this time--somehow--Moussa got us onto it and past the first roadblock. We drove past Kenyan construction crews and dark-tanned Chinese supervisors, but got to another roadblock where they wouldn't let us through.

It was frustrating and awful and they wanted bribes, but it was business as usual I guess. But some part of me snapped inside and I just had to get out and argue with these guys. I was ready to knock them all down and throw their barriers aside my own self, but I just made matters worse for Moussa as he tried to negotiate. As Chelly says, corrupt people in the Third World see a white man and they want to eat him: they want to eat his money. Lucky for us, one of the Chinese supervisors pulled up in a luxury SUV and gave the order to let us through.

After that it was smooth sailing, flying towards Nairobi at about 160 KPH, with crucial lost hours to make up. I slept on Chelly's lap with tears in my eyes. Her and Mom tried to take pictures out the window. Dad gripped the dash with white knuckles. Moussa gritted his teeth and pushed the tape of 80s slow jams back in to repeat again.

Somewhere around the area where bandits throw tacks on the road to stop motorists so they can rape and rob them, we got our first flat tire. There was a panicked quick-change, Dad, Mouss, and Me worked like a Nascar pit crew. We were lucky to have a meat delivery truck show up before any bandits did and give us an escort as we slolwy brought the little mini-spare into the nearest town. It took at least an hour for Moussa to find a garage and get it repaired while the rest of us hid-out and napped in a gas-station restaurant. Then we were back out on the road.

There were police checkpoints. Luckily, our next flat tire came while we were near to one of them. We changed it with a lot less panic under the watchful eye of a uniformed officer. But the next checkpoint wasn't so fortuitous. Moussa got pulled out of the car and was nearly arrested for driving a car he doesn't own without carrying his license. Threats were made. A bribe was forced out of him. We were back on the road again.

And somehow we got into the airport just about in time. We were wasted and exhausted and there was a lot of confusion and tension. There were at least four unattended bank offices with 'Open' signs up. One of the janitors told me the clerks were probably all sleeping or drinking in a bar. I eventually woke one of them up and I pulled all the money I had left from traveller's checks and loaned deposits in my bank, giving it to Chelly for her food and paperwork filings over the next week. We found Moussa asleep in the corner of a bar. Mom and Dad appeared with some money for Moussa to fix the tire and pay the car's owner with.

We grabbed all our bags and made it over to the gate just barely in time to board. And I had to say goodbye to Chelly.

She looked more beautiful than I'd ever seen her before, and more sad. We hugged and we kissed and we said comforting things to each other. I balled up inside me all the love and peace I could pull out from in between us and I said "goodbye" and went inside the terminal.

Now we've got hope, daily emails, a voice over the phone crossing seas and continents, and this blog and these pictures. Please enjoy them, but know they mean a lot more to us.

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Comments

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This keeps getting better...
It is so good to see the connection your parents have made with Chelly's parent/family.