East African Express: By any means (of transport) necessary

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ENGLISH

As India said goodbye with an angry bout of pink eye for Nathalie, Nairobi greeted us with sunshine and beer named after elephants. We planned to leave for a safari in the Maasai Mara the next day but figuring safari-ing might be a dusty pastime we delayed our departure for 5 days while the eye specialist's advice and medication took effect. 5 days in Nairobi took us not very far. To town (in a taxi) and back before dark. No hanging out on the streets at night we'd been told, so we spent evenings listening to travellers tales from East Africa: like the one where the Israeli couple got all their stuff nicked from their safari camp in a Maasai village even though the Maasai were providing security and the one where the German medical students in Tanzania, were delivering babies after a days training, then getting malaria followed food poisoning and then evac'ed out to Nairobi by the flying doctors. There was one night at a club but it was dry and populated by 16 year old Asian and American kids and/or silver haired Europeans with their African girlfriends. Other than that we shopped at the Maasai markets for odds, sods, trinkets some of which we'll probably realise is a load of crap when we get back!

Safari - 7 days, 6 nights in the Maasai Mara, Nakuru and Samburu national parks
Sirus our Kikuyu driver/guide took us on an eventful and animal-ful tour of some national parks, at high speed on rubble strewn dirt roads, with a smile, in a Nissan hightop (a minivan with an extendable roof for game viewing). Punctures became second nature to us. Being launched from our seat became as familiar as breathing. Bone jarring vibrations became therapy. On the way to the Maasai Mara on day one we stopped at a viewpoint over the Great Rift Valley. Where 9000km of the earth, from Israel to Mozambique, was torn asunder millions of years ago. The plain was immense, as somehow, was the sky above it. How'd the sky get so big?

Maasai Mara
After hours of being thrown about our party of five: Sirus, James and Selina (honey-packers from oop north), Nat and I arrived at camp late after the requisite puncture stop and piss breaks. In the last hour of the journey our little city eyes gawped at giant ostrich, dumb wildebeest (dumb as they appear to bolt and kick randomly at nothing in particular), Thompson gazelle, giraffe and topi. Camp was next to a Maasai village and was guarded and run by Maasai warriors, though we were slightly confused as Sirus had earlier told us that Maasai men don't work. Apparently all they do is rest, (from what we couldn't grasp) and that's the reason we'd seen so many groups of them sitting around under trees wrapped in blankets as we made our way to camp. The truth is out there somewhere, but I'm not sure that was it.

Our first game drive gifted us giraffe, dumb wildebeest, zebra and elephant but no big cats. We were compensated by the sky as the sun set: shards of light poked down through the pinking clouds as though the fingers of someone up there was caressing the plain below.

Our tent was substantial (with two actual beds inside) but was mossie filled. Dinner, as lunch had been, was beef stew with accompaniments and we washed that down with beer and some of the Old Monk rum we'd bought in town. Just the preparation for an early morning start to track down the Big 5!

0600 hours: Time to hunt the hunters. Safari-ing it seemed after half an hour or so involves driving around randomly in a van, spotting other vans and taking pictures of what they found. This method led us to some good shit:

- A herd of elephants one of whom was moody and was starting to charge us when Sirus got scared and put some distance between van and pachiderm, ruining what would have been a good picture
- Vultures eating, standing on and fighting over someone else's leftovers.
- Two lionesses lounging, as we found lions like to do, in the shade of some bushes so you could only see a head, or leg or haunch (bloody non-performing wild animals).
- A lion roaming out of the bush to take another look at his breakfast and re-assert his king of the savanna status...the vultures stayed well outside of mauling distance as did the jackals.

After that we continued a long day spotting elephant, giraffe, warthog, millions of wildebeest and zebra and a host of beautiful pink fluffy clouds. Some of this was done backwards on account of a downpour and the lack of 4 wheel drive in our hightop. There was definitely something life affirming about fish tailing our way across Maasai plains and occasionally doughnutting off the road. It added a special dimension to a period where all we saw were more zebra and even dumber wildebeest. We were on our way to very late lunch at a river crossing point, where we hoped to find hippos, crocs and obliging kamikaze wildebeest. The rain however meant it was impossible to cross. So instead we attempted an implausible climb....basically careering the high-top down and across a narrow section of river then up a steep rocky incline that would usually require a winch or crane. Still Sirus assured us he'd done it before so we tried not once but three times to tame the craggy slope by sheer force of will and revs. It didn't work, not least because Sirus refused to steer the van over the "path" of rocks we laid to make things a little easier and instead beached the van on boulders or sprayed loose rocks all over the place as he wheelspan. Afterwards James attempted a northern English version of the same death defying stunt but only succeeded in almost overturning and tearing the van in half and stripping the outer layer of the rear tyre off.

So to plan D....the other hippo/croc pool, followed by the Kenya, Tanzania/Maasai Mara, Serengeti border, then a wildebeest graveyard and finally the herding/terrorising by van of a large column of wildebeest who were near the river but were not quite ready to throw themselves to the crocs. Thanks to Sirus's persistence it was a great day.

The evening brought tales Kikuyu of wedding rites which include a dowry paid for the bride of two goats, a milking cow and 50,000Ksh. According to Sirus the money could be paid in instalments but if by the age of forty you hadn't paid the money your wife had to be returned to her family. But as he said "you like her so you pay".

The morning safari turned up no cheetah or leopard but another puncture and after we disappointed the Maasai camp manager by opting out of "showtime at the Maasai village" we were on our way to Nakuru NP.

Nakuru - Oh lord help, me Jesus Christ I'm bouncing around the bus
One more puncture and a full 9 hours after leaving the Maasai Mara we arrive at our hotel in Nakuru. Another 0600 start took us to Nakuru where we found the lake edged in pink by a kazillion flamingos, attack buffalo who liked the look of Brit (one of the 3 Israelis with us), white rhino, maribou stork and spotted hyena enjoying the mating season. We also learned a little more about the Maasai (from Sirus, who's Kikuyu remember):
- Maasai men have multiple wives and each wife has her own house as does the man.
- other Maasai in his age set are a free to spend the night with any one of his wives and signifies his presence with a spear outside her hut.
- Maasai cannot be attacked by lions as the lions have learned over generations that the Maasai in the distinctive red shuka blankets are dangerous
- in fact the Maasai are considered the big sixth in addition to the previous 5.

Samburu NP - a long way from Nakuru
The north of Kenya is arid and the landscape is therefore more sparse. The animals are a little different (drought resistant they call them) so you get the reticulated giraffe and Grevy's zebra which are better looking than their cousins further south. The highlight of Samburu was the herd of 30 plus elephants drinking and playing by the river (Sirus was nervous as hell) and a cheetah munching its breakfast in clear view. Nature's majesty, though as it walked off it inspired a van bound bunfight as it was followed or rather stalked by a herd of high-tops and a couple of landcrusiers. Not especially eco-right-on but good viewing.

Uganda: Land of the Buganda
A long bus to Jinja seemed a good choice after a couple more nights in Nairobi and after some c&%!t(MISSING)s stole our camera and all the safari pics. The ride on a "royal" standard bus was as boneshaking as we'd ever experienced. At the bus stop (read roundabout) where we were dropped by the bus, we were met in the dark by two random dudes on motorbikes who offered to ride us and our bags to our hostel. I'm not sure if it was healthy paranoia or the irrational sort that made us express a preference for a taxi. It turns out these motorbikes are made for three, four or even five people, so can easily accommodate us and our bags even the tyres are almost flat. Jinja turned out to be a good place relax or in fact do the complete opposite and go X-treme. Alternately we rafted the White Nile, mountain biked the surrounding hills and villages, quad-biked and rafted again. That time (second for me and first for Nat) we got thrown repeatedly and spectacularly from the raft. It's safe to say that Nat won't be doing that again soon, after one particularly disorienting flip in some rapids when she was struck in the mouth by a flying raft/paddle combination and another when she got "washing machined" for a few seconds longer than is "fun". I had a similar underwater opportunity to "relax" and "don't fight it" and "wait until you pop up" and managed to catch my foot on a rock, so by the end was also done with rafting (for now at least)! When were weren't being X-treme I just sat around, read, hung out the mountain bike guide and resident NGO wall builders and Nat spent some time at a young widows workshop learning how to weave and make jewellery from old magazines. All in all Jinja was a pretty cool place good and you can probably drive around in a van and not have your stuff stolen, unlike Nairobi.

Mombasa
Back in Kenya, an overnight train journey took us to Mombasa on the Swahili coast. The train was like something from an 80's Bond movie where Jaws might burst through the partition rather than the luxury Orient Express experience I think Nat was hoping for. Travelling by rail meant we didn't have to contend with east African highways which in turn meant we could relax, dine and wine, sleep and in the morning watch the sunrise turn the sandy plains golden. Oh and then there were the baobabs the dotted the every lusher landscape as we arrived in Mombasa.

You notice as soon as you step out that you are where Africa meets Arabia. Women in Bui-buis (burkas) and brightly coloured Kangas, guys in skull caps, with mosques and Koranic schools in the centre with plenty of bars and nightclubs scattered up and down the coast. African faces in Omani dress. It’s steaming there too but in another sense was a lot more chilled than Nairobi. In 3 days we shopped for kangas and banana leaf baobabs, visited the old Portuguese fort, ate Swahili spiced fish washed down with tamarind juice, looked in vain for live Swahili hip-hop, saw crocs at the crocodile farm, drank in bars where even when the Champions league was on there were more women than men(!?) and watched the Amitie dancers doing their thing: the most memorable being a rubber legs move that the lead singer tore the place up with.

Leaving Mombasa involved a tuk-tuk, a ferry and a matatu. Chatting to the other passengers (in English once we’d established I didn’t speak Swahili) sparked an animated conversation in Swahili that covered why I, a black man, didn’t speak Swahili, how I came to be born in England, the history of the east/west coast slave trade and then wound up being about politics judging from the raised voices and finger waving. It is election time after all. The most vocal in the debates, a guy called Mikhail, ended up sitting next to me in the matatu and we got talking about how I could help him get to England. He had friends there already who’d fled Kenya in the 90’s as political refugees and who were doing casual work. As a taxi driver he wanted to know how much he'd be paid in England??? A letter of reference is what he needed. I said I could write one for him but what would I say? “I, Jason Haynes, of sound mind etc….recommend Mikhail who I met for an hour in a matatu. He has one child, has divorced his wife as she is no good and would like to go to England to f*&k white women as he has been f*&king black women all his life”. He suggested I skip the last bit, but that would mean missing out half the things he told me he’d like to do when he got there. Last of all he thought I should marry an African woman and take her to England. Maybe Nathalie has something to say about that.

Wasini Island and Marine National Park
When the matatu stopped in Shimoni, I was met by Zulu, Faisal, Mr Cool and two other meera (khat) chewing tag-alongs. Though they all worked for the same boat they all took turns pitching me a great deal for an "African brother" which included a place to stay and a boat trip. I was the only guest at the lodge and so the sole market for the trinket sellers and the coral garden guides. The fact I didn’t want any trinkets but just to sit and read didn’t dissuade Abu, who as an alternative offered some weed instead, again at “African brother” prices. 3$ for a spliff. Bargain! Not! Walking through the coral garden at sunset seemed like a good idea but I was intercepted by Mohammed who walked me around while discussing why I'm not a Muslim and I don't believe. I suggested it was for the same reason he didn’t believe in Father Christmas.

The 90$ snorkel trip was a jack. A boat load of tourists running back and forth gawping at dolphins for almost an hour followed by 30 minutes snorkelling was not what it said on the tin. Then I learnt that the package tour groups, who were sold the trip on the beach of there all-inclusive hotels, were paying less than me…even with my "African brother" discount! Kuna matata!

FRANÇAIS

Lundi 1er Octobre. On tourne une page sur l’Inde. C'est le début d'un nouveau chapitre: celui de l'Afrique de l'Est.

On a passé nos 5 premiers jours à Nairobi. J'étais en convalescence. Une conjonctivite chopée en Inde (... et les bactéries là-bas, ça rigole pas) donc pas vraiment idéal pour faire un safari... les yeux à moitié fermés, dans la poussière.

On ne s’est pas ennuyé pourtant pendant ces 5 jours à Upper Hill Campsite. On a fait la rencontre de couples interéssants et sympatiques: Inbar et Uri d’Israël et leurs vacances de cauchemar, Iris et Daniel (allemands et étudiants en medicine). On a écouté les histoires de leur stage dans un hosto en Tanzanie (avant que Daniel ne chope la malaria et se fasse transporté en jet par les flying doctors à Nairobi). Pour leur premier jour de stage, ils ont “donné naissance” à 20 bébés:

- La sage femme: “Premier bébé: j’vous montre comment on fait. 2ème: c’est à votre tour. 3ème: vous pouvez apprendre à quelqu’un d’autre comment on fait. Ok?”
- Daniel et Iris: “ Euh…………… Ok.”

On a aussi fait la connaissance de James et Selina (Angleterre), en voyage de noces “aventure” pendant 6 mois… et avec qui nous sommes finalement parti pour un safari (au passage, safari, ça veut dire “voyage” en Swahili) de 6 jours dans 3 différents parcs/réserves: le Masai Mara, Nakuru et Samburu.
J’sais pas qui a dit “partir en voyage, c’est crever un pneu” (je sais, je commence à me répéter), mais il avait raison. On a crevé 4 fois les 3 premiers jours de notre safari…

Dans le Masai Mara, on a vraiment vu des tonnes d’animaux: des familles d’éléphants et de giraffes, des antilopes, des buffles, des troupeaux de wildebeasts et de zèbres (des milliers), des hippos, des lions (de tout près! à juste 2/3 mètres de notre combi Nissan)… Vraiment impressionant.
A Nakuru, des milliers de flamants roses, des rhinos et la carcasse d’une antilope accrochée à la branche d’un arbre… On a malheureusement pas fait la rencontre du responsable de cet acte macabre (un gros chat à pois noirs)… Du moins pas ce jour-là. Non, il a fallu attendre quelques jours de plus pour tomber nez à nez avec un cheetah en train de macher de la viande fraiche comme du chewing-gum… Quelle classe!

On est ensuite revenu à Nairobi... pour repartir 2 jours plus tard en direction de Jinja, en Ouganda, à quelques mètres de la source du plus long fleuve du monde.
Quad biking: c’était vraiment rigolo.
Rafting: c’était un peu dingue… La 1ère et la dernière fois de ma vie que je descends des rapides de grade 5, je pense.
Nous avons passé une semaine en tout à Jinja, une petite ville à l’atmosphère vraiment sympathique et relax. On se déplace en boda-boda: des mobilettes-taxis. Jason, moi et le conducteur, tous les 3 sur une p’tite mobilette, c’était cool.
J’ai aussi passé 2 journées en compagnie d’un groupe de femmes veuves et j’ai participé à leurs ateliers. Et voilà... Je sais maintenant comment on confectionne des coliers en papier et comment on tresse des feuilles de bananiers et de palmiers… Le tout s’est un peu produit par hasard... Leur porte était ouverte, j’ai passé ma tête en travers et j’ai dit "hello!" et elles m’ont répondu "hello! Do you want to join us?"... Un groupe de femmes aux destins tragiques, très jeunes pour la plupart, mais n’ayant pas perdu pour autant leur gout de la vie… Tout en travaillant, on s’est raconté des histoires (droles/quelquonques/celles de nos vies...), on a rit, on a chanté, on a même dansé… Pour reprendre le titre d'un bouquin de Jean d'Ormesson, "C'était bien"... tout simplement.

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