Kippin' in Kibwezi

It has been a long time since we last wrote on the blog. This has to do with inability, inactivity, and laziness. Let me expound upon the reasons, and be dazzled by my soaring rhetoric. Alae jacta est and all that, here we go.

Boxing day saw us, along with countless others, dreaming a dream. In this dream there was hope, hope which soars like eagles into a better world. Hope which changes, change we can believe in... (yawn).

Then the alarm went off, because the Rev'd Samwel Atunga had organised a trip to see the people in Kibwezi, three or four hours away and we had to be there in time for church. Weirdly, upon emerging from our troglodyte den, we found that many Kenyans were up and about already, it could have been any usual day (but we knew different, because of the dream).

Off into town we went (on a matatu no less, we have changed, change you can believe in), before getting into another matatu! and heading to Kibwezi.

Kibwezi is a very poor area of Kenya, with no industry to speak of. The town consists of a few streets with stalls along either side, and unsold vegetables rotting in the street.  We stayed in a small guesthouse run by pentacostals, where they made the best ugali we have ever tasted. Comfortingly, they also had a Tesco so we didn't get homesick.

The surroundings are populated by subsistence farmers who are from the Kamba tribe and who have been moved from their homes to make room for the national parks. The problem that they have is that there is not enough rain. They have had a three year drought and all their animals have died. The village we were in, called Kibarani, had no running water and no wells, except to get salty water (therefore all the children have brown teeth). They also have no electricity, so as a result the place is beautifully peaceful. Although they are some of the poorest people in Kenya they definately have something that the rich in the west don't have and that is a fantastic community to live in.

Despite how little they had they were incredibly welcoming, and looked after us very well, feeding us more than necessary and way more than Jo could eat. Fortunately it rained just before we went and so their crops were growing (very fast). Before it was just a dust bowl.  In fact they hardly have anything except land to grow their crops. Here we ate our first baobab fruit (tastes like sweets, quite uncanny), learned that mangos do not need to be peeled to be eaten, and met many orphans and their parents. We were also an unusal sight. Children either cried when they saw us or screamed 'Muzungu' and giggled a lot. It was amazing to think that some children here have never seen a white person in their lives. Sadly they do not have the money to send their children to school, as whilst it is free, they have to buy uniforms and books, a task that is well beyond them, especailly considering that they have not had a good havest in three years.  If anyone wants to sponsor a child, it would cost less than Compassion...

We also spent time with Atungas family, a charming bunch. Rather wonderfully, we hired a matatu to take us to Tsavo East Park. Having managed to get into the park on residents rates (they trusted that Atunga as a priest would not mislead them), we proceeded at 80 kilometres per hour into the heart of the park, mowing down birds as we went (we saw their bodies on the way back). Not much wildlife was seen, partly because the road was bumpy and the constituent parts of the matatu vibrated in different directions, loudly. Having said that, Tsavo park is beautiful, and we did see some lava flows and a very large spring, complete with hippos and crocodiles.  On the way back we ran over a snake. Still no lions or elephants.

Another day we spent swimming and relaxing with not much to report, baring the trip back.   I had their 3 year old Juma on my lap in the matatu (it was rather crowded), when a bloke gets in chewing sticks.  This turned out to be the drug miraa (qat). When he told us this Juma slapped him in the face. I, of course was greatly amused by this, as was the driver. Ahhh, kids.

We spent a couple more days in Kibwezi, visiting the congregation at Kabarani, wondering around there homesteads and learning more about their way of life. (Edd secretly suspects they hide Ferraris in their mud huts.) We saw another Baptism and then return to Nairbo but this time not by Matatu but in a Toyota estate. All 10 of us crammed in.

Then we were home for an evening, with just enough time to check our e-mail, before not bothering to reply and going to bed. Then off to Meru, near Mount Kenya for an eventful few days...