Kenya DIY
Subtitle: Nairobi, Nakuru and the lions of the Masai Mara
Diary of my 24-days survival in Africa, alone and with only hand luggage, without Lonely Planet.
Sweet and wild Africa, beautiful and cruel Africa.
Africa sanctuary of nature, Africa home of malaria and AIDS.
I write this lines with mixed feelings, bitterness and nostalgia typical of those who came back recently and still cannot go back to everyday life ….
September 2004 … what it is left … now ….
Red colour. Like the blood of wildebeest mauled by lions under my eyes, like the sunsets at the Masai Mara, which blatantly demonstrate the existence of God
The acrid stench of exhaust pipes, anywhere, on any road ..
The perfect silence of the evenings at the camp in Nakuru, the crackling fire, the rain on my tent.
The strong flavor of the spices and the sweet coconut milk, sublime marriage, a unique perfection.
The Stoney, the spicy orange squash, which I became addicted to
Tangawizi, ginger, one of the first words I learn in Kiswahili.
So that’s what it is left now… .. of the experience I lived, which I will try to write about in the next pages
August 4, 2004
I land in Nairobi at 5.30 am with an Eritrean Airlines flight from Rome, paid 700 Eu including tax. On arrival, no trace of luggage. Fortunately in my hand backpack I put some essential stuff, like a bikini, underwear, 2 shirts, another pair of trousers. Other items of vital importance, such as the mosquito net, the torch and the sheet bag, are missing, though.
I booked the first night at Flora Hostel, in the suburbs of Nairobi, Ngong Avenue, on the road which, far ahead, leads in the direction of Karen Blixen’s house and the Ngong Hills, the first outposts of white settlement in this land.
With me I have only a few photocopies of a Routard guide I found at the library.
I get a map of the city center at a kiosk in the arrivals hall
Then I am surrounded by the usual touts. 1500 ksh for taxi transport, you are kidding, aren’t you? I say ironically. The important thing is always to pretend to show self sureness. Now they seem less aggressive and very eager to change the subject of conversation. 55 USD per day for a budget safari tent, the operator is Safari Planet, which, by internet, by the way, quoted 80.
No way, I shut any conversation with one word, “Gametrackers”, nobody insists any longer.
A taxi takes me to Flora Hostel for 1000 ksh, which is the price experienced Mzungu pay.
The Flora Hostel is definitely, in hindsight, the cleanest place that I shall attend during this holiday. Clean and quiet. Three meals are included in the price of 1,300 ksh.
I leave the luggage in the room; after that, it’s time to go out, have a look, and pay off the debt with Gametrackers.
The hostel’s receptionist tells me that Kenya Metro Shuttle Bus Service stops right next to the hostel, and leads directly into the center.
I go down on the Ngong Road. A moltitude of people is walking on the edge of the busy road, on the red earth. Feet, shoes, clothes, trees, leaves, everything is impregnated of it.
Until two minutes ago I was concerned about the very poor conditions of my garments, but here we are in Africa, what the hell, clothing must be practical, not fashion. I hid my long brown hair under my sweatshirt , but the skin color brands me relentlessly, despite my efforts to stay into the shadows. I am a white woman, the only one, waiting for a bus in an ocean of dark faces.
Nairobi, indeed Nairobbery, contests to Johannesburg the primacy of the most dangerous city in Africa. No backpack, pouch, waving maps. Better to be mistaken for an expat rather than a just arrived naive tourist.
The first two Metro Shuttle pass in front of me without stopping, so I jump on the first bus, the fare is 20 ksh. A girl shows me where to get off. I memorized the rest of the itinerary.
I shake hands with Mr. Vincent Maingi, in blue suit, with whom I kept contacts by emails. He seems a bit surprised that I arrived downtown on my own and by bus.
I had often wondered whether I should book or not a safari before leaving, I was even considering to explore the Masai Mara without the support of anyone.
Wisely, I gave up. Too little knowledge in ethology to be able to orient myself in such a large reserve with satisfactory results. Too exorbitant prices for renting a 4WD car, too risky to ask lifts to unknown people.
I decide to make reservation only for Masai Mara, for Nakuru and the rest I’ll try to do by myself, if I can.
Gametrackers is a tour operator which gets good recommendations from any part of the planet. Their prices are average for economic safaris, 70 USD per day, including food, accommodation in tents, park entrance fees. Participants must bring water, flashlight, pillow, towel and sleeping bag. According to many, the food they give is among the best, both in quality and in quantity. All these things are certainly important, but what makes the difference, and I think it’s their strong point, is that Gametrackers is the only economic agency using 4WD jeeps and trucks instead of minivans. This is a very important matter, because these vehicles are stronger, and go almost everywhere. Thanks to our 4WD jeep, crossing a stream with steep peaks and full of stones, we will be the only ones to see a leopard from very close distance (1 meter), while the rest of the tourists in the minivans used binoculars from the other side of the brook, eh eh :). This alone is enough to make me happy to have chosen them.
After saying goodbye to Vincent, and lightened my wallet, I stroll downtown. Quite ugly, I must admit, with its concrete anonymous buildings, there’s nothing I can define “nice”. In the Hilton Hotel area there are several shops and restaurants, I take a glance at the clothes shop windows, hoping to find something affordable, but nada de nada.
I collect brochures on the street, looking for some deals for a 2 days / 1 night in Nakuru, but can’t find anything less than $ 200.
I buy a towel, a torch, and a 5 lt bin of water at the Uchumy supermarket, in Tom Mboya Street. Back close to the Hilton, I wait for some public bus going to Karen or Ngong direction. While I wait, an elegant lady nearby tells me, with nods and half-words, that a pretty old guy next to me, squat to tie his shoe, wants to steal the contents of my plastic bag.
I really would like to see how far he can go with my water bin, before he bursts …
Since I can’t find a bus or matatu that brings me back to the hostel, I start walking with my heavy burden. At the main post office on Kenyatta Avenue, exhausted by the weight, I give up and I get into a taxi. I’m so tired and sweaty that even do not bargain the price and I pay 300 ksh without protesting.
I arrive too late for lunch, and spend the rest of the afternoon in my room.
The beginning of the evening meal is announced by a loud bell ringing that brings me back to high school time. The dishes are served with buffet style, there is a soup, baked potatoes, boiled potatoes, meatballs with tomato sauce, a delicious rice timbale, and then bananas. The water in the jugs makes me hesitate, but since I have nothing else to drink, I hope in good fortune. The groups, instead of staying on their own, scatter here and there, as if there was an unwritten rule that dictates that none of the singles eats alone. And so I sit together with a Norwegian girl who is studying anthropology in Nairobi, a missionary reverend, and an Italian boy from Varese, Simone, who is working in a mission in Isiolo, in the north of the country.
Today he came to Nairobi to pick up his parents at the airport, it’s their first visit.
After dinner we have some talk, together with a group of boy scouts who came to Kenya to build a school.
I am the only tourist, and this situation will happen often.
August 5
I arrive at 9 am at Gametrackers office and I know the other participants to my safari. A French couple, another French girl, then two Americans and one English lady. Our driver is Robert, Samburu ethnic group, a handsome man with amber skin and regular features.
Our 4WD is not a Landcruiser, but a military truck with 3 rows of 3 seats each, plastic sheeting instead of windows, completely folding. The roof can be opened in the first and last row, so it has a solid part in the center that allows us to sit on, and have even a better view than from the sides. The vehicle is quite old, slow and noisy, but on difficult and steep ground goes like hell
We leave with all the windows open to look at the scenery, we see the slums in the outskirts of Nairobi, again a huge crowd of people walking beside the road, garbage everywhere, children who dig inside, goats that graze in the middle
The shops, simple tin cubic, have fanciful names, as well as the matatus signboards. USA F1, Rambo, Juventus, and so on. I assign mentally the first prize to a funeral company, announced by the plate “Montezuma and Monnalisa”, (I’m still here now wondering about the connection ..) with the subtitle “wide exposure of coffins.”
The butchers are really peculiar, quarters of beef and goats hanging from hooks without any shelter, virtually on the road, in the dust, exposed to the lies.
We stop in the middle of nowhere for lunch, salad, cheese, sandwich bread, bananas.
After that the road becomes a hell, holes, even craters, earth and debris that are thrown everywhere.
We make a stop in Narok, to buy fuel.
Narok is a place on which I had fantasized a lot, at the times when I was trying to go to the Mara by myself. It’s the closest village to the reserve. I would have had to get right here in matatu, and then find a ride, or pay a local guide. Good thing I decided to do a tour …., I could have lost a lot of time in this hole of place forgotten by the world …
We arrive to Sekenani Gate almost at sunset
The Masai Mara is a reserve, not a national park, so it is not fenced. It borders the Serengeti in Tanzania, and the animals migrate from one place to another following the seasons cycles. At the moment, millions of herbivores should be coming soon, in fact, from Tanzania
Masai villages are situated around the campsites along the Talek River, I see them wrapped in their traditional red blankets, together with their flocks.
As we arrive at the camp, apart from a spectacular sunset, we spot two cheetahs who roll down on the road like cats and dodge on our arrival, and then two lionesses. It’s already almost dark and I can’t photograph them.
There is no one else at the camp, so we can take possession of the permanent tents. They are spacious, and I can stand in the highest central part. Contrary to what I thought, we do not sleep on the ground. There is a sort of wooden bench, on which two foam mattresses are put, and above them there is a sleeping bag
The showers are located in tin shacks, and have hot water. Toilets however are simple holes in the ground.
There is no electricity, so, due to late arrival hour, it’s impossible to shower. While one of us holds the torch, the other one washes his/her face.
Meals are served in a shed in the middle of the field. Food is stored in a camping fridge, and cooked on the grill.
The evening menu consists of spaghetti and fruit. The chef apologizes but, having arrived with us, he did not have time to prepare something else.
Dinner and conversation with the guys are nice. I just keep quiet and listen to the stories of my mates with a lot of attention and curiosity. Apart from the three French, tourists like me, the other three girls work in Kenya, Selina and Sarah in the Kakamega forest to study primates, while Lydia in Kisumu, filming a documentary about the various tribes of the place.
It’s interesting to hear the experiences of people living in the country, nice to know their points of view. It’s fascinating to discuss politics with Lydia, American progressive who guesses apocalyptic scenarios for the forthcoming elections. Bush is the target of a long series of anathemas, as usual. Robert complains of being discriminated about his appearance. Clear skin and facial features mean that it is mistaken for an Arab, with all connected troubles with the police, in a city now hyper-controlled like Nairobi, after the attacks at the embassies.
The evening goes on quietly. At night, instead of the roars of lions, as I wished, I feel rather at times the bleating of the herds of the Masai.
August 6 – The Cheetah and Leopard Day
Breakfast is plentiful, scrambled eggs, tea and coffee, bread, honey, jams, peanut butter, and fruit.
I think spending four days at the Masai Mara is a good idea. It seems it’s a lot of time, but it’s not. Because, although the agencies do not tell it, the first and the last day are used for traveling. You arrive so late that there is no time for the afternoon game drive much advertised on brochures. We left early and all together from Nairobi, and we did not make it in time. Even worse for those trips where buses run from hotel to hotel to pick up all participants.
Four days are then reduced to two full ones in the reserve. In the event of machine breaking, at least one has a spare day. Otherwise, it’s really wasted money. And then, it is well worth it.
The Masai Mara, in July / August, is the most beautiful park of Africa. Only Serengeti at winter time is better.. This at least I read in the guides.
We leave at around 8:30, heading north, to the Hyppo Pool, bordering the Serengeti. We see herds and herds of wildebeest, soft-eyed giraffes with long eyelashes, elegant antelopes, nervous and graceful gazelles.
Our jeep fords the first creek. We have some difficulty in climbing the banks, we have to go back, move a few boulders, take a run and press the accelerator. We make a lot of noise and when we finally reach our intent a large group of zebras looks at us curiously, or annoyed, as if they wanted to say “Can you please stop…..”
The Hyppo Pool is the only place where we can get off the vehicle, there are armed guards everywhere to protect from the hippo attacks, they have a reputation for being very aggressive and kill more humans than lions. In the river there are many crocodiles as well
They are huge, some measure 4 or 5 meters. When returning to the camp for lunch, the first real big surprise. I apologize to the herbivorous for having downgraded them to a lower emotional impact animals, but really you can’t be indifferent in front of the big cats. Under an acacia, on the roadside, 4 young male lions are lying lazily, their mane is barely visible. Two of them are still, they look like dead, one is moving the ears, stands up, scratches, yawns, and doze off again
A little farther on, we see some minivan in circle, and we understand there is something interesting. In fact, in the midst of a big bush, a female cheetah with five cubs is lying
It seems restless and frightened by cars. From a minivan roof someone screams, and the animal starts to give clear signs of nervousness. Robert goes away commenting “It’s unfair.” Cheetahs, my favorite, are the predators most disturbed by tourists. They hunt during the day to avoid competition with lions and leopards, and therefore more than others they have to deal with caravans of people who scare their preys. Their number is decreasing. Out of 8 puppies, only one manages to reach adulthood. What a sadness ….
We come back for lunch, and we find fish and chips waiting for us, potatoes are the real ones, not those supermarket frozen sticks.
After that, we take advantage of the afternoon light for showering and washing. We can’t lie inside the tents, it’s too hot. There is also a volleyball net, but no one wants to play because, again, it’s hot. So François plays soccer on his own, like a pouting child, while the two primatologists try to take pictures of some baboons attracted by the smell of lunch. These hours of pleasant idleness are necessary because, coming out at this time, all animals are hidden somewhere and we would not see anything.
We get back into the jeep at 4 pm, for a while we cross only warthogs and the usual herbivores, to which after a while we get used.
François, on the roof, is in charge of spotting the animals, and gives us the coordinates according to the “clock” method. Robert interrogates us. If he stops in front of a topi, a kind of large antelope, he wants to know what it is exactly, and we must not just say “antelope”, we must specify “topi”, otherwise he reproaches us. Same if we confuse Thompson’s and Grant’s gazelle.
At a certain point, just up the road, we see coming towards us a group of lionesses with their kindergarten. The puppies are very playful. In turn, they jump on each other back.
They pass very close to us, almost touching our jeep. I could also photograph their fleas, if I wanted ….
Shortly after, already close to the sunset, we see some minivans on the banks of a small canyon, everybody is looking up in the trees. We approach them. Our Maasai askari, with binoculars glimpses a leopard perched on an acacia, on the other side of the ditch. We are the only ones, with our jeep, to be able to ford. Crossing the water would not be difficult, the problem is going up on the steep shores, full of huge stones. However we make it. The minivans disappointed, leave. We do not have time to get under the tree that the leopard disappears. We are all so attentive and with our nose up to the tree, trying to capture the slightest vibration, that we do not realize that the leopard is instead now under the acacia, two meters away from us, squatting on the ground like a silent sphinx
What a fantastic animal. What a fur, what eyes. As soon as we turn our heads towards him, it looks at us with an expression which freezes us. I lean just a bit out of the window, with a too blunt move, it looks at me and blows. Tum tum tum tum, perfect silence, I just feel my heart beating. Robert softly says to stand still, it’s a good jumper and very close. Carefully I return the head from the window and, out of its sight, I climb slowly on the roof, I lie down, and start to photograph it. The animal calms down, and does not care any more for us. Meanwhile, on the other side, a group of elephants is arriving
The leopard go down to drink, and sits still on a stone, looking at them. The elephants at the beginning do not realize it is there. It is interesting to notice as they move silently despite their size and steep banks. Finally, one of them sees the leopard, and, waving menacingly its ears and bellowing, tries to catch it. The big cat runs away with low tail.
We return to the camp very satisfied; stew, spinach, rice, and fresh fruit salad are waiting for us.
August 7 – The Big Hunt Day
The weather is cloudy and chilly. With two sweaters on, I am still freezing. At times, it is drizzling. Do not have the time to cross the entrance gate, that we face four lionesses and 4 puppies that are devouring the remains of wildebeests, killed during the night, we imagine. The carcass is already quite ravaged, we can see distinctly the ribs, and even a few pieces of red meat, that small lions bite with relish 
Now it starts to rain. Going on, we find, in the midst of the bushes, a lioness lying, then 4 puppies, then a large male with a very thick mane, crossing the road almost touching us. It is flawless, majestic and imperturbable
After that, another group of three lionesses, some hyenas and jackals, which, unlike lions, are very shy and run away immediately as soon as we get closer.
We return to the camp, meanwhile the sun comes out, fortunately. Rice, cold meat rolls, peas, papaya and passion fruit for lunch.
The afternoon game drive will give us the biggest excitement of the holiday.
We go around for at least an hour without seeing nothing, only some some skeletal carcasses here and there. We search around every group of shrubs. Nothing at all. But where the hell are all the animals ??
At about 17.15 François, suddenly, indicates a lioness in 2 o’clock direction. We see only a small group of about twenty wildebeests. Squinting my eyes, I see the dark tips of the lioness ears. Evidently she is lying in the grass, and crawling forward ready to attack. We’re pretty far but we can’t proceed. These are the rules everyone should follow, never approach a predator who is hunting, never interfere.
Suddenly:
1) the lioness snaps, runs, leaps
2) at the same time a great cloud of dust rises, the sound of hooves beating the ground, the group of wildebeest escapes
3) the lioness grabs the loser of the situation
4) the lioness and the wildebeest, for a fraction of second, like in slow motion, fly in the air, clinging, and tumble down on the ground
5) a second lioness, approaches, to help, in 9 o’clock direction.
Now we can get closer, the hunt is over. The lionesses were lucky.
We are a few meters away, witnessing the agony of the wildebeest. Someone turns the head not to look. Although I consider myself an emotional kind of person, I swear to myself that I do not have to miss this for anything in the world.
A lioness bites the wildebeest at the throat, to make him choke, the other holds him by the testicles. I do not know why. I guess it’s probably the most tender place to start to open the tissues. The wildebeest gasps, inhales, exhales, forcefully, and with despair. At one point, legs and body are hit by a violent and uncontrolled tremor, life that goes away
The wildebeest is now motionless with eyes wide open, the lioness abandons the neck and walks away. The other one starts the meal.
I expected a ghastly spectacle. Instead, it’s just the opposite. Robert explains that if the wildebeest had been attacked by a group of jackals, or other small animals, such as hyenas or wild dogs, then, yes, it would have been a bloodbath. The lions on the other hand are very “clean.” They chew, we can hear a noise like crackers crunching, lick, suck. Some piece of colon here and there, and the duodenum … In the distance, we see a group of lionesses, lions, and a cub approaching, called by the one who killed the herbivore. We wonder where the hell all these lions were hidden, since before we turned around the bushes where they come from for at least half an hour, but could not see them.
It can be strange, but this scene has touched me deeply. I’m absolutely not disgusted, it seemed all so natural. Selina and Lydia had tears in their eyes. No one but Lydia was able to document the predation scene. All my mates admit they just wanted to look, without taking away their eyes not even for a moment.
Lydia wrote me later, in September, trying to describe the photo she took. It was not nice, she told with some disappointment.
According to Robert we had a great luck, like the day before with the leopard. We just were at the right place at the right time. Throughout his career, he did not assist to more than 10 events like this.
However, a huge thank you goes to François, who first spotted the lioness.
He humbly explains that, when a child, going hunting with his father, he refined the technique. Among other things, having hearing problems, nature has compensated him by giving him an eagle view.
On the last night at the camp we are cheerful and triumphant of our booty: 31 lions, 1 leopard, 7 cheetahs. François and I are disappointed we did not see a cheetah running. The stew curry is great, the rice with onions as well, and the cake is a surprise, much appreciated as it was unexpected.
I confirm the praises I had been reading about the food provided by Gametrackers. Apart from the huge amount of fruit / vegetables, which are usually scarce in the cheapest tours, what I really appreciated are small gems like the cake and pastry cream.
After dinner, new political discussions, new invectives against Bush, email and phone numbers exchanges.
August 8
We leave the camp at around 8.30. Shortly after, the truck brakes break, but Robert fixes everything in a quarter of an hour. Meanwhile, we are surrounded by young Maasai who were grazing their flocks nearby. One of the guys try to swap Sarah’s Nike watch with a blanket, another sells François a lion tooth. This will turn out to belong to a hyppo. We have our lunch break near Narok, where again a part of the group waste time bargaining to death for some typical beaded necklaces. We arrive in Nairobi at around 5.30 pm.
The farewell dinner is booked at the Carnivore, one of the most famous restaurants in Nairobi, where wild game meat is served. Since I could not withdraw from an ATM, and all I have left in my pocket is 10 $ for the hostel, I declare myself out of the game. Remarkable friendship proof of my companions who offer to pay for my meal knowing that I can’t give back the money.
The real problem is the luggage, and I have to do something immediately to track it down.
So I greet the members of the expedition with a lump in my throat, and I quit.
Before the safari departure, I booked at Nairobi Backpackers Hostel, which also has an agency that organizes safaris, and their 1 night / 2 days Nakuru trip has an acceptable price, 120 USD, compared to 200-250 in downtown.
The hostel is a bit run down, there are only shared bathrooms, and, moreover, with little privacy, so it is all a bustle of half naked people going around with towels twisted around the waist, while others comb their hair, shave, brush their teeth; Some of the showers drains are clogged.
Luckily the manager, Ken, an Englishmen who moved to Kenya 10 years ago, is very kind and helpful.
He immediately calls at the airport, but no trace of my luggage …
I can’t arrange for Nakuru, because at the moment there are no people to join. However, he tells me that he can lend me his tent at Mbweha Camp. The camp’s owner, Robert, can give me a lift. Settled !
The hostel’s dinner consists of a spicy Ethiopian dish, eaten with the hands.
9 August
I have the whole morning free, since I will leave to Nakuru at 14.30. I call again at the airport and no one knows anything about my backpack. So, I decide to buy something. Ken explains how to reach the Yaya Centre, a shopping mall which, according to him, should be a 20-minute walk.
The part of Milimani Road where the hostel is located is not paved, out of the gate I find dusty lanes lined with piles of garbage and tall bushes. Finally I reach a paved road, which is overlooked by elegant villas surrounded by high walls and barbed wire, I walk past the Russian embassy and the Egyptian one.
Then, changing direction at a crossing, the atmosphere again becomes more African and animated, but, tired of walking, I hop on the first matatu going in the right direction.
The Yaya Centre is a shopping center similar to ours. At the supermarket I buy sunscreen, shampoo and mosquito net (4 $)
I look around among the gallery shops for some clothing. There is also a Woolworth. Dresses suck and cost as much as in Italy. I buy a pair of socks, since I have only 2 ones.
I step into a travel agency and ask if the Eritrean Airlines has an agent in Nairobi, I write down a phone number on a piece of paper.
At 14.30 I am in front of Robert’s home, at Lansington, an outlying district for rich Mzungus. Villas and barbed wire. The gardens are a riot of jacaranda and bougainvillea.
I do not know if Robert thinks to be Schumacher, however we cover the Nairobi-Nakuru distance in one hour and 40 minutes. The guide is thrilling, dangerous overtaking on bends. We pass close to the first lake in the Rift Valley, Navaisha, after crossing an Alpine landscape. I notice that everywhere, on every sign, stands the Delaware name, at the fuel stations, shops, take away pizzas, small factories of dairy products.
Lord Delaware, a British, is the owner of the land, including the park I will visit tomorrow, even though the entrance fee I will pay will enrich the coffers of the Kenyan Government.
We arrive at Mbweha Camp under a pouring rain. A girl rushes toward our jeep with an open umbrella. I’m not used to this kind of welcome and I look around to see if it’s me that she is waiting for. They have already set up my tent, a small igloo with an oil cloth stretched over it, to protect from rain. Inside, there is a camp bed, complete with sheets which smell of fresh laundry, and wool blankets. Here we are at about 2,000 mt above sea level, and I can only be grateful.
Looking at the main building, I realize that the Mbweha Camp is an elegant place, with high-level cottages and a beautiful restaurant / bar / reception decorated in a pleasant African style.
Close to it there is a large meadow used as campsite, public toilet and showers have electric light. There are also permanent 5 stars tents, with ensuite facilities.
They offer tea and homemade cookies. The reception bathrooms are all decorated in wood and wrought iron, with huge mirrors, so I decide I will wash my face here, rather than in the latrines of the campsite. Since I do not have any food, I’ll have to eat my meals at the restaurant, at expensive prices by African standards, ksh 800 for dinner, 500 ksh for breakfast. For the tent, however, I pay only 200 ksh.
All around, an absolute silence reigns, broken only by the chirping of birds.
As night falls, a fire is lit in a brazier in the middle of the bar, and the restaurant is illuminated by dozens of candles and oil lamps. A nice atmosphere, hushed, romantic, definitely a place for honeymoon.
While I am busy at warm up mesmerized by the fire, I am approached by a guy, Isaac, who received the order from Robert to take me around in the Nakuru park tomorrow. He is competent in biology and ethology. It gives me a general overview of the tour, and tells me that it would be better to leave very early.
Dinner is great. I agree for breakfast and lunch, then I will pay 30 USD for the safari, plus 30 more for the entrance to the park. I will be alone with Isaac on a Toyota Land Cruiser. I fall asleep at the sound of the rain falling, I sleep very well.
August 10
The alkaline Lake Nakuru is famous because it is home to millions of flamingos. Beside being a world ornithology sanctuary, it hosts a large group of rhinos, Rothschild giraffes, and then a bit of everything else, except cheetahs
They shot here some scenes from “Out of Africa”
The park is not huge, about 180 square km. 6 hours is more than enough to visit it.
I immediately realize that the landscape has a much more varied aspect of the Mara, which is mainly and only savannah
Here there are many different species of trees, a waterfall, rock formations of various kinds, some hills where I can enjoy a breathtaking view of the lake, almost completely dyed pink because of the flamingos.
On the banks I can get off the car, even if it is full of guano, and the smell, accentuated by the heat, is not the most pleasant.
I can’t get close to the flamingos that much, if I walk normally. If I move very slowly, one step and I stop, another step and I stop, that’s much better ..
Unfortunately, I do not see even a lion. But I think the Masai Mara ones can be enough.
My safari ends at around 13.30 and at 14.00 we are back at the camp. I decide to stop one more night because of the nice peaceful atmosphere.
August 11
Early in the morning, Catherine, Robert’s sister and camp manager gives me a lift to Nakuru. She drops me at the Easy Coach Terminal, assuring me it’s the best and safest bus company, much better than Eldoret Kenya Bus Services, which is the one I was looking for. The ticket price is 250 ksh, I book a seat for the 11.30 ride. Having to wait for about an hour, I decide to go for a walk in the surrounding area, where I saw a souvenir market.
The lady at the ticket counter, to whom Catherine leaves me in custody, is so nice, and she offers to accompany me to the market. I do not know if she thinks I’m afraid, or what else. While I am standing there other people come to talk to me. Some of the girls work at a travel agency, they do not want to sell me anything, just talk. Then it’s time for a mom with children. What delightful people. Compared to Nairobi, it is another world. Here there is more peasant atmosphere, no one is in a hurry. I walk the main street, peeping inside some shops to see the products. But the real show are the trades invented on the street, where they sell everything, even ceramic toilets, beautifully lined up in impeccable geometric order. And then the candies, sold by piece and not by weight, showing that here even simple and insignificant things still have some value. Young women stop and buy two candies and distribute them to their two children. A candy has to be a very important gift for a child. And then I find the banquets of sign painters. I stop to observe how they brush with patience and sure hand some beautiful and perfect alphabetic characters, as if they were printed..
Already at first glance, it seems to me that the souvenirs exposed in the tourist market of Nakuru have better prices than in Nairobi, I ask for information here and there and compare. For the moment I will not buy anything, only a few postcards, which I then send immediately by post office.
Back at the terminal, and, sitting in the waiting room, I look at the people around me. They look like wealthy Africans. The Easy Coach bus is equipped with soft chairs and huge space for the legs, the driver is cautious. I see yet another matatu overturned on the roadside, surrounded by a crowd of onlookers. I ask my neighbor how the first aid rescue works here, if there are ambulances, for example. He says yes, but, in the meantime, care is provided by passersby.
I do not know if, in the first leg, Robert was better in avoiding the potholes, or I was just distracted, but now the road surface seems terrifying. Like being in a blender, in certain moments.
We arrive in Nairobi after a couple of hours, now I feel at home. I decide not to go back to Ken’s hostel, because too far. I want to enjoy the excitement of the city center and head to the Terminal Hotel, where some of my safari mates slept. The clientele seems mainly composed of local tourists and businessmen, and to a lesser extent some white backpacker … The rooms are large, have the mosquito net, and hot water. I pay 1000 ksh, my room overlooks a courtyard, on the third floor, and it is still extremely noisy because there is a restaurant below.
I call the Eritrean Airlines agent. Obviously (and shockingly, I might add) they have no news about my luggage. I make request for a partial compensation to cover the first incurred expenses. The guy seems reluctant, and tells me that I should check immediately to the Eritrean Airlines office at the airport. I ask him if he thinks I am stupid or what, since I already know they do not have any offices at the airport. A fight follows, I threaten complaints letters to IATA, and my interlocutor slams the phone down. I’m furious.
I tour in the souvenir shops of the center, and I immediately realize that everything is vastly more expensive than in Nakuru ..
Because walking alone at night is very dangerous, even for a few blocks, I eat dinner in the Chinese restaurant on the opposite side of the street. A huge plate of fried rice costs 200 ksh.
When back at the hotel, the manager at the front desk hands me the following message from Eritrean Airlines “show up tomorrow morning to get a refund of $ 100”
Sleep is not great, because of the noise from the restaurant / bar, and some pain in the belly.
August 12
An hotel attendant, met on the stairs, asks me if I want clean sheets and towel, or some cleaning. Impeccable service, for God’s sake !! Like in 5 stars hotel!
Among other things, staying in the center is great, no taxis, no waiting for matatu, no marathons to go to the supermarket.
I go first to the Scandinavian Express terminal and I book for the next day a seat on the bus to Dar Es Salaam. I pay 3000 ksh. Departure is at 7.00.
Then I go to the airline to withdraw my $ 100.
I eat a quarter of a chicken and fries at Chicken Inn for 230 ksh.
At evening I have dinner in an African restaurant near the Terminal Hotel, the Market Restaurant. Yesterday I noticed it was full of locals, so I try it. Not bad, a fish fillet with vegetables and rice costs me 150 ksh.
Nearby there is an African fast-food. Their menu is written on large displays on the wall. Apart from burgers and sandwiches they also offer healthier meals. A quarter of a chicken, for example, in these place costs a third of what I paid for it at Chicken Inn. Also here it is always full of people.
I go to bed but not sleep well, again a stomach ache, and this time, frequent runs to the toilet. Fantastic, in a few hours I have to take a bus and stay there for 12-13 hours ….
August 13
Before leaving the Terminal Hotel I tell the Manager I will be back very late on August 23 evening, and ask him to keep a room for me.
An elderly taxi driver, Joseph, who usually parks in the neighborhood, takes me up at the bus station.
To shelter from the unexpected, I take an Imodium tablet. On the bus there is no toilet, in fact.
Departed, I start to have nausea. Strange, because I do not suffer motion sickness. I feel restless and a bit scared. I only hope that the journey goes on without any incident .. Then I understand the cause of my problems could be the Imodium, which I took for the first time in my life, with empty stomach, because I have not had time for breakfast.
I eat a few bananas that I had brought with me, and everything goes away
What a relief, damn ..
The first part of the route is along the highway to Mombasa, after a while we turn and soon we find ourselves in Namanga, at the border with Tanzania.
The rest of the trip can be found in Tanzania section Zanzibar
August 23
The Scandinavian bus arrive in Nairobi at 21.00. I go with taxi to the Terminal Hotel, and I find that they did not keep me any room, probably I arrived too late.
Escorted by a guard called by the Hotel Manager, I walk 3 or 4 blocks to the Embassy Hotel, which seems to me more or less the same standard, except that the cost of 1,000 ksh also includes breakfast, and the first floor has a restaurant with reasonable prices, the Simba Mbili. Here I decide to eat something light, due to the late hour. Bad experience. They bring a soggy fried rice, too salty. It sucks.
August 24
The breakfast at Simba Mbili is a little bit better than dinner. I slept very well because in this hotel many rooms, mine included, are on the back and silent side.
I go to the Easy Coach station and take a bus back to Nakuru market to buy souvenirs and various gifts. There, I squander almost all the $ 100 given by Eritrean Airlines. By the way, nobody still knows anything about my luggage, and tomorrow I go back to Italy, wonderful …
I purchase masks, bongos, bracelets, straw handbags decorated with shells, paintings, khangas. The khanga is in my opinion a particularly appropriate gift. First of all, it is the typical skirt of African women, and you do not see it anywhere else. It is woven in very bright colors, with fruity-floral type decorations in the center and edges of geometric designs. It differs from sarongs to all other parts of the world because, in the central area, has a Swahili proverb printed.
Normally, you buy two identical ones. One, in fact, is worn as a skirt. The other, however, it is tied in the head or, as in Tanzania, where the inhabitants are Muslims, used as a hijab. It’s cheap, 100-150 ksh, it does not take place in the luggage, if you do not like to use it as a sarong, you can use it to lie on the beach, as a tablecloth, or as chair cover.
To the eyes of the stalls traders I look like someone who has a lot of money to spend, so everybody calls me, pulls my sleeve, absolutely wants me to pass and look at their merchandise. In the beginning it is amusing, after a while it becomes a stress. They absolutely do not understand the concept that I can’t buy everything from everyone, and I do not have time to haggle endlessly ….
But it is certain that contact with the city of Nakuru will remain for me something special.
I return to Nairobi in mid-afternoon, I slip into a supermarket and buy at least a dozen boxes of tea with many different flavors including the ginger one I had tasted in Zanzibar. The tea is a very good and typical gift, Kenya is the third largest producer in the world, after India and China. I will drink it at wintertime in the cold Sunday afternoons and I’m sure that the taste will remind me of the hectic atmosphere and vitality of Mokta Daddar Street.
My plane leaves at 19 tomorrow, which means that I can leave the city at 16 and I then still have almost a whole day.
I realize I have spent very little, throughout the holiday, no more than 600 dollars. Tomorrow morning, I will go by taxi to the Karen Blixen house and museum.
Back to Market Restaurant. A fillet of fish with vegetable side dish and rice, plus a salad, 210 ksh
August 25
After breakfast, I go in front of the Terminal Hotel, looking for Joseph, the old man who a few days ago brought me to the Scandinavian Express terminal. We agree in 1500 ksh return to the Karen Blixen house, he tells me that I can stop all the time I want …
When we move away from the city center, the landscape begins to be more pleasant. The District of Nairobi called “Karen” is very cute, sweet hills in the distance, green trees, and an explosion of colorful flowers on the hedges.
Joseph parks in the shade close to the Karen Blixen Centre, I recognize the house, which is as I remembered in the film. I was not expecting instead the magnificent garden that surrounds it.
Entrance costs 50 ksh for residents, 200 for the tourists. Inside it is forbidden to take pictures. What strikes me most are the skins of big cats, now bald, stretched out on the ground, and photographs hanging on the walls. I smile when I consider that Finch Hutton is actually ugly, but really ugly, not like Robert Redford …
In the garden they are holding a party, in typically colonial style. At first I thought it was a buffet included in the price, but an attendant tells me it is a private party.
Groups of white people, sitting at the tables, under a gazebo, while the waiters and the orchestra members are all blacks, stiffened in their dark livery as they had swallowed broomsticks.
My God, what an anachronism!
Back in town, I slip into the City Market, located in front of my hotel, for the last minute shopping. I would like other khangas. Here I pay them 100 ksh, while in Nakuru they costed 350, but these ones are not so nice.
After that, one of the nicest experiences of the holiday. While I’m walking along the Moktar Dadda Street near the Terminal Hotel, some girls on the threshold of a restaurant invite me to enter after showing me the menu. Since it’s noon, I am hungry, and prices are tempting, ksh 100 as average for one course, I get inside.
The tiles on walls look like my school bathroom, but the place is cluttered with people, tables are clean and the maids look much tidier than me, that I almost feel ashamed .. Various dishes of meat or fish are served with a side dish of rice choice, chapati and ugali.
They serve me a huge fish, seasoned with coconut sauce and ginger, with a side dish of spinach, herbs and chapati. FANTASTIC! The slightly sweet taste of coconut combines well with ginger and delicate fish one. They treat me with a kindness that I find embarrassing. Or maybe they have the imprinting that all white people are pretentious assholes ?? They ask me what I want to drink. Water. They have no water. A Stoney, then. They do not have even the Stoney. At this point I am uncertain because I have not a third alternative. A middle-aged stocky men follows the scene, captures my indecision and it interprets it as a disappointment, whispers something to the waiter and sends him out. After 3 seconds he is back with my Stoney, I imagine taken at the side bar.
The man apologizes in a thousand ways, tells me that today is the opening day of the new management, and they are still a bit disorganized. He looks like the restaurant owner, and treats me as he would do with a very important customer. I make him warm compliments for the food quality, service speed, room cleanliness, he gives me a business card and asks me if I can put a good word among other foreigners who might come in the area.
Yeah, he deserves it … guy, everybody at Soko Restaurant!
At 13.30 I realize it’s time to go in my room and pack. I pay 500 ksh and can keep the room till late in the afternoon.
I want to take leave of this city and country, which has welcomed me so generously and warmly, with a friendly face, so I trace Joseph, the old taxi driver, and ask him to take me to the Jomo Kenyatta International Airport.
I greet him with a trembling voice, Kwaheri, goodbye!
Controls at the airport are very strict. Even in the street, before entering inside, I have to queue, show my passport and ticket, and pass through a first metal detector.
At the check-in pleasant surprise, my backpack !! Nothing is missing !! Hooray !!
We land at Milan after an eternal flight, three airports.
While waiting for my bus to Turin on the platform, the first look that cross mine, on the other side of the street, belongs to a dark skinned individual, who is passing by with his old and battered Peugeot 205.
For a moment, I dream to be still in Nairobi.
Instead, I am at Malpensa, Italy, returning to normal life ….