Karibu Kenya

The flight was smooth and we landed as the sun was rising. Only grass and a few bushes decorated the tarmac. A fast bus ride led us to baggage claim. Fifty dollars added the first stamp on my passport. I had finally arrived in Kenya. 

I slipped on a floor length skirt to cover my tight spandex, anticipating the conservative culture of Nairobi. Me and one other IVHQ volunteer were greeted by our driver, Andrew. Nolan the Canadian was no stranger to travel and had a small backpack to hold 9 weeks of personal belongings. We chatted as Andrew weaved us through crowded streets, passing overstuffed matatus and people walking to work. He drove us into oncoming traffic and swerved back into the correct lane just in time. 

We arrived at our temporary housing, my luggage hauled into a room with 4 other girls. They were just getting up and heading out to breakfast. I was so mixed up by the time difference that I though breakfast must be eaten very late here. In reality, it was only 8:00. 

We rode the bus to a place called Junction. It's the closest thing to a Western shopping mall and attracts all the tourists. Free wifi and coffee, a croissant and a bottle of water settled us in. 

I withdrew my first lump of Kenyan shillings and tried to familiarize myself with the size and numbers. Math under pressure is not my strong suit. But bartering is a challenge I'm willing to accept. 

We rode on a bus to to downtown, soundtrack courtesy of old r&b and pop (Brandy, ABBA). 

We perused some shops and some people bought souvenirs to take home. The shops seemed to cater to tourists but was priced fairly. We wandered the streets as others spent their final shillings. 

Texas the taxi driver pulled over and had the 8 of us pile in. We navigated street and dirt road (sometimes off the road) to the giraffe habitat. Traffic was heavier than before and the 8 of us sweated and squished as the car stopped and started and lurched and bent to the roads. 

The giraffes were overpriced and underwhelming. They all stared at us with tired eyes, sauntering over now and again to be fed with pellets. They seemed full and lazy, closing their eyes to get five minutes of sleep before obliging us with their presence and entertainment. The keepers banged on buckets and called them by name, ensuring that customers got their money's worth. 

My eyes were stinging from lack of sleep and my stomach churned from hunger. It had been eight hours since I had been picked up from NBO. Hardly having recovered from 30 hours of travel, I was craving water and quiet. The taxi ride was half as long the way back and we plopped down, ready for supper and sleep. 

2 Tusker beers, ugali and kale, chicken and goat stew. I used my hand to eat the meal and watched as Andrew mashed the ugali in his palm and used it to scoop up the stew. I tried it but the cornmeal cake only crumbled and became soggy with the broth. Oh well. 

We recapped the day, chatted with locals and slowly went to bed one by one. 

I made sure to piss in the hole one last time, hoping not to stumble into the dark bathroom, mid-night, and slip my foot into someplace unpleasant. 

A well earned sleep to follow