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Published: April 30th 2007
The survival
My favourite tuk tuk. Hi all! My intentions of keeping some semblance of order in this thing have gone out the window. Life getting in the way of all that, which is probably a good thing!
A bit about the town to give some context to those photos - Kilifi is a pretty small town, with shops on 2 streets, and street stalls and the bus stop on a couple of others. The town then spreads out with houses, churches, restaurants, the hospital and the labs over a larger area. Most of this is on paved roads, but there are dirt roads that lead off to all the villages.
Despite the fact that this is, technically, a tourist town (although there's really no detectable tourist presence outside the resorts which are some distance from the town centre), and that there are many foreigners at the lab, we've found that we are a huge novelty here - particularly amongst the kids, who love to yell out 'jambo mizungu' (hello, white). The more bold amongst the kids like to try to practise their english. They usually call out 'hello, how are you?' to which we've learnt the correct reply is 'fine fine' rather than 'well, how
Kilifi town stalls
Some of the street-side stalls in town are you?'. Overall, it's pretty hard to go anywhere quietly - at least a few times a day we'll be bailed up by someone wanting a chat. Initially, I was a little wary about all these characters (mostly young men) who want to talk but, after realising that they're just being friendly and they don't want to run away with your wallet, we've found it's usually an interesting exchange. Mostly, there doesn't seem to be any romantic intention in their approaches, with the exception of Jimmy, a guy we met down at the creek the other day, who told Brigid that she has beautiful eyes and that goodbye without a hug is not a proper goodbye!!
The approaches are a little more crazy where transport is involved. Walking past the bus stop is like running a gauntlet. All the matatus (14 seat minibuses) that go south to Mombasa and north to Malindi stop there. It's the cheapest (and sometimes most hair-raising mode of transport - less than $2 for the 90 minute trip to Mombasa). There are no set departure times - each bus just leaves when full (and sometimes when overflowing, with various cargo attached to the roof or
Kilifi town kanga stalls
Kangas are the pieces of large bright fabric the women wear. Usually in pairs - one wrapped around the waist as a skirt and the other around the shoulders (over a t-shirt or blouse) or used to tie a baby on to their back. spilling out the windows). Each bus has one guy -dressed in maroon - whose job it is to bring people into his matatu. If you indicate any need to get on a matatu when you're approaching the bus stop, you'll immediately have 4 or 5 identically dressed guys in your face yelling at you to get on their bus. They usually do a bit of bartering with each other and offer the trip cheaper than someone else. The only real way to put an end to this is to get on one. This makes having time to check out the condition of each matatu a little difficult. Cleo, one of the girls in the lab, reckons that she feels the vehicle is safe as long as it has both side mirrors and a rear vision mirror. This is all well and good - but it doesn't account for the skill of the driver (obviously difficult to determine in a stationary vehicle!). Three matatu rides so far, only one crazy driver. And hopefully no more.... hair raising experience. There are other ways to travel longer distances here - buses (also cheap, but leave pretty infrequently), and taxis (but prices not dissimilar
Kilifi mosque gate
In the evenings you can sometimes hear chanting from the mosque a street or two away... to Australian fares). For shorter distances, there are the taxis, tuk tuks and boda bodas. Tuk tuks are 3-wheeled vehicles that seat a driver and 3 others. They're pretty open - no windows - and would provide bugger all protection were one to topple over, which they look prone to doing. The tuk tuks here have names painted on - my favourite is 'The Survival'. Quite apt. Boda bodas are like bicycle taxis. Think a bike out of Gods Must Be Crazy, and then put a little cushion on the back. The passenger sits side saddle on the cushion. Tres uncomfortable... not that I've tried one because......
....The news of the week is that we now have our own bikes!!!! We had a trip to Mombasa on Friday with one of the lab drivers (whose job it is to go to Mombasa each day to run errands) as we'd heard there were some good second hand bike shops there. The bikes available in Kilifi were very limited to those with no gears and those with gears that didn't work. Apparently new ones are no good either, as they rust like crazy. So, second hand it was to be, and Henry
Kilifi bus stop
Half empty at the moment... - formerly of the Kenyan national basketball team - otherwise known to us as Captain Whingy - took us to Mombasa. We found 2 with functional gears and as little rust as possible and, after they got a quick wash from a crazy Somalian, it was back home - unfortunately sans helmet (no one seems to wear them here and we haven't even been able to find them in Nakumatt, the big K-mart like shop). Mine duly broke 10 minutes into its first ride, the back wheel dislodging and jamming. Luckily, only a short walk to the bike garage in town to be fixed for less than $3. Sorted. While waiting for it to be done, I was approached by a guy wanting to sell me cashew nuts. When I said 'no, thanks,' he gestured to Brigid and said, 'What about the boy? He might be hungry!'. He he he. And I thought, with my hair, it'd be me who was mistaken for a boy.
Plenty more to say, but this has to end some time, so I'll leave you with these tidbits:
- It pays to take your medications as instructed. I wandered around moaning about chest pain for
Kilifi bus stop sellers
Before the bus or matatu leaves, people will try to sell you food, drinks, watches, newspaper, clothes... a few minutes after taking my doxycycline (malaria drug) without food a few days in a row. Oesophagitis hurts. Luckily better now.
- We found the way down to where you can swim in the creek the other day. A lot of local teenagers are down there swimming. I think they learn later in life than us and a few of them say that, since they learnt, they are obsessed with swimming and spend hours down there each day. I swam across the creek and back (maybe 300m each way) with a couple of the guys. One of them asked me if he could 'buy my talents'. When I asked what talents he wanted to buy, he said 'freestyle, backstroke and breaststroke'. He also asked me, after finding out I work at the lab, 'are you an artist like your boss?'. Figuring he meant the lab head, I said, 'oh, is he a painter?' and he said no, 'an artist, he doesn't believe in God!'.
-The guy who runs the guest house wouldn't let me order Brigid potatoes as a side dish to her fish last night (I had to go and pick the fish we wanted for dinner) because
My best angle
After I refused a ride on his boda boda, this guy asked if I'd take his photo. Not just any old photo, I had to wait until he turned the bike around so I could get a front-on shot as he was coming back towards me. he said that 'Brigid eats rice. Strictly rice.' I'll have to get her to order something different as a side tonight to prove him wrong.
-We have started Kiswahili lessons with a guy called Reuben who was recommended by some of the other expats. Have had 2 lessons so far and figure we'll probably continue with 2x2hr lessons/week for the moment. Lessons are just Brigid and I. He's a great teacher, and has a really good structure to his approach to a language. Makes lessons amusing too, and adds in cultural tidbits and important language points (like pronouncing the verb 'to drink' properly to avoid saying 'to go to the toilet').
Enjoy these photos. I'll add some animal ones tomorrow. And maybe tell you about the people we've met, and work, and our attempts to find a place to live. Enough for now. Hope you're all well. Miss you. Tutaonana badaye (see you later). K x
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