Kenya: Nairobbery

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First impressions of Kenya

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We drove in to Nairobi on the overland truck the first time we arrived in Kenya and our first impressions were that it was vastly different to everything we had seen for the last 2 months. This was for two reasons; firstly, the infrastructure was by far the most developed and professional we had come across since Swakopmund (Namibia) and secondly, there were a lot of other European expatriates.

The streets were clean, there were well finished high rise buildings everywhere and we stopped at a shopping centre just outside of the main city centre and indulged in a little luxury: a steaming hot cappucino. Despite the state of the buildings, the roads all throughout Kenya are TERRIBLE!!! This is the result of literally zero investment in public infrastructure since the end of President Kenyattas tenure (despite the large sums of money being paid in tolls and taxes!).

We camped at the lodge operated by the owner of the overland tour company for 2 nights as we awaited the departure of our trip for Uganda and the mountain gorillas. Our tour leader from Malawi to Kenya had been a cool, calm and chatty 27 year old Kenyan named Kevin (Ruth, our tour leader from Cape Town to Zimbabwe, had broken her elbow after a night on the booze in Victoria Falls and had retired injured). On our first night in Nairobi we were introduced to Kevins older sibling Joseph, who is a splitting image of his brother despite the extra inch of height, extra 25kg of weight and long, flowing dreadlocks.

We asked Joseph if we could go out and eat local food with local people and so he accompanied us out along with two of the other girls from the truck to a restaurant in the centre of Nairobi. We had been in Africa for close to two months now, and although the anxiety and apprehension of heading out in to an Africna night was withering, it was by no means non-existant (I guess it takes longer than a couple of months to overcome a lifetime of media scare mongering). Besides, they call this place Nairobbery!

The city is really abuzz at night and being a Saturday, people of all ages were filling the streets for a night on the town, which for most Kenyans begins around 9 and finishes after the sun comes up. The restaurant was upstairs and quite large, filling three separate rooms as well as an outdoor dining area. We ate ugali (maize), steamed cassava leaves and samaki (fish). The typical method of dining is to wash your hands thoroughly prior to eating (normally the waiter or host will bring a jug of warm water and a bowl, but in this case we had sinks and soap) and then pick a small handful of ugali, press it in the palm of your hand and then use this to scoop from the various other plates of food. Chapatis or rice are often used in place of ugali.

A 10-piece band were playing Swahili music in the adjoining room (visible from our table) and we ate, drank, attempted a conversation with Joseph over the booming music and were entertained by the antics on the dance floor (consolidating to me that all Africans have rhythm and style). We followed up dinner with a beer, and I stood at the bar and chatted to Joseph about Swahili, his work as a DJ and his beloved football team, Arsenal. Every restaurant and bar I've been to in Africa is filled with televisions and in particular at night, you cannot move your head without locking your eyes on a different TV, broadcasting the football. I'm becoming a huge fan!

After dinner we headed to a bar called Tropez, where we enjoyed more loud music and more football. Having been a DJ at one of the biggest nightclubs in Nairobi, Joseph knows everyone from young ravers and business people to drug dealers and street kids and so we were never short of people coming over and saying hello or sitting down to chat. I talked to a number of guys and girls throughout the night, all of whom were very friendly and generally inquisitive about life in Australia. After about an hour, we decided to call it a night as were getting tired, but Jen (one of the other girls from the truck) decided she wanted to stay and so Joseph arranged for a friend to pick us up and return us to Acacia Camp as he was staying with Jen. We waited on the street outside the club for close to an hour, as his friend was delayed with TAM's (typical African mishaps), with another guy named Ken keeping us company and Joseph running in and out of the bar. Eventually our ride home arrived and we made it home safely. We had enjoyed a night of good food, nice drinks, smooth music and engaging conversation with great people (no shortage of Premier League highlights either). Much to the shame of the Lonely Planet guide and all those tales that happen to so-and-so's friend, we had not been robbed, mugged, beaten, maimed, lynched, stabbed or shot at. Hell, I didn't even see a knife at the dinner table!

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