The Simojokis are leaving

Just like a London bus, you wait two weeks for us to post something, and then three posts turn up at the same time (well, ish).  I wonder if it has any connection to us watching the last episope of 24, series 1 yesterday.

Once again, much time has been spent relaxing, although there have been the occasional surrealities thrown in.

The first occured on Wednesday. We finally managed to source instruments from Dick Moss, who has been living in Kenya for the last 40 years, but is still very British. In his time here he wrote the Nairobi A to Z, and has just finished writing a history of the Nairobi Orchestra. In his spare time he seems to collect musical instruments as we had several to choose from.  Upon turning up at the Orchestra, we found that other people had also acquired instruments for us. (Ed had 3 trumpets to choose from!) The rehersal was fun, with a tea break in the middle, and the other players were tolerant of Ed's split notes and very welcoming. For Jo the experience was a little more traumatic. It turned out that the three other violin players who turned up were not very confident and so Jo ended being the only first violin player. Not quite what you expect when you come to Kenya to do voluntary work - to lead the Nairobi Orchestra! She is secretly praying that more violin players turn up before the concert on Sunday.

Saturday was a kind of adventure.  We awoke to gunfire, as one does, before popping down for a leisurely breakfast. The body count turned out to be three, with one wounded.  It was cold and drizzly, so well wrapped up (of course by the time we arrived it was boiling hot, so we swiftly shed the extra layers) we proceeded to hop into the car with the May family, before going to a Scandinavian Christmas market.  Okay, not as wierd as it sounds, Tiina May is Finnish, and there is a Swedish school in Nairobi. Basically, the Norwegians miss their rotting herring, and this is the result. A good time was had by all, especially when we got to be crocodiles (mumbas) at the bottom of the slide, and grabbed unsuspecting children.  Weirdly, having only been here for a month, Joanna seems to know half the Scandinavians here. 

An other adventure was trying to park the car. The Kenyans seem to enjoy digging big pits in front of the car parking spaces, so fun was had parking, before giggling at later parkers. (Many people would try it on, get a bit stuck, and then reverse out. One has to wonder why they  bother with 4x4's! Oh yes, it's not because of the off roading but because of the Matatus, which are lethal minibuses, with slogans like 'with God all things are possible' emblazoned on the side).

Anyway, home we went, to a bit more relaxing, only to find a big spider on the floor in our suite.  The problem was that the lightbulb in the room had gone, and the spider was hiding in shadows, and we couldn't quite be sure what it was. All the time we were bigging it up in our conversations and minds, until soon we were both in a blue funk in the opposite corner of the room. I am sure that you too would hide from an 8 foot spider.  And this is where Karine comes in.  Karine is the daughter of the Bishop of the DRC, and she is staying in the compound whilst she learns English.  Upon being questioned, 'what do we do?',  this Amazon replied 'Kill it', before promptly turning the tarantula into a flatula with Ed's shoe.

Sunday was Anssi and Marjas' last Sunday here before they return to Finland, and so a big lunch was organised, although I believe that everyone was suprised about how many people actually came (we ran out of plates, mugs, cutlery etc, but not food, phew). All through church people were arriving, until, by the end of the service people were seated on benches outside. After chuch, we had a general chat before tucking into lunch, and then speeches. Every one wanted to chip in here, and you got a real sense that they will be sorely missed, having been here for twenty years.  A group of Somali refuges had prepared a song, sadly in Swahili (I think) so we didn't understand. Anssi has done a lot for Somali Christians over the years (they have had a very tough time), and I think that beneath the humerous exterior he is a truly brave (or mad?) man (we heard that he is still remembered for opening a church in Sudan whilst all the fighting was at it's height, not that Marja is much better, she went to Mogadishu at a similar time).  Whilst the cake was yummy, it would take an awful lot of them to equal one Anssi or Marja.

Introductions

We realise that we have been remiss in not introducing you to the cast here in Nairobi. So here goes…

Four households, all alike in dignity, in fair Karen where we have our house.

Firstly, Anssi and Marja Simojoki, indomitable Finns who have been here for 20 odd years. They are the parents of our curate Tapani, and so our original African contact. Marja works for the Finnish embassy here, whilst Anssi runs the Lutheran Heritage Foundation. Our companions on our trip to Mombasa, they are a kind, welcoming and amusing couple, who have introduced us to the Nairobi Orchestra and the pleasure of saunas. They are going back to Finland this week, and will be sorely missed.

Next, the May family, consisting of James (Dad, an American who thinks crisps are chips, and chips fries – ‘dogs eat biscuits’), Tiina (Mum, another Finn, aka Tiin according to her residents permit), Maggie (8, princess), Tristan (7, future chameleon hunter), Sarai (6, explorer), Sophie (3, a little monkey, literally) and Jonas (1, dribbles a lot). Number 6 is on the way. Our fellow adventurers at the Nairobi National Park, the kids are always ready for a game of ‘cops and robbers’.

Then comes Sabina and her family of two girls. Sabina is the house manager here in the compound, and keeps everything running very smoothly. If we come back fat, it is her fault, as she organises the food. Jo is currently giving Janet piano lessons in her 'spare' time. (Photo to follow shortly).

The other flat in the compound is occupied by some Africn Evangelical Enterprise workers. We have little contact with them, apart from Yvonne, a lively and fun girl of 8, who joins in the games of cops and robbers.

However, the LHF is a hub of activity with many colourful characters dropping in for a day or two, adding to the daily excitement. These characters I am sure will drop in and out of the stories which we tell. But special mention must go to Carine the Congolese. She has already appeared in our blog and I am sure will be a feature in the future.

Chillaxing in Mombasa

The weekend has been spent at Mombasa with Anssi and Marja, the retiring director of the LHF and his wife. For those who don't know about Mombasa, it used to be the old British administrative centre before Nairobi was built in the hills, and has Swahili, Portugese and Arabic influences. We stayed in the Hotel Serena in Mombasa (owned by the Aga Kahn).

On Friday morning we flew to Mombasa, which was an experience in itself, or at least the landing was. I have never heard a plane with such squeaky brakes and they had to work very hard to stop the plane from going off the end of the runway. From the plane we also got our first glimpse of Mount Kilimanjaro, maybe we will have to climb it next year.

We were picked up at the airport by the hotel shuttle service and whisked to our abode, where we received drinks and a cold flannel (which was already welcome, Mombasa is considerably hotter and more humid than Nairobi) before being shown to our rooms. The Serena beach hotel was rather fabulous. Designed to be like the historic lamu town, it is a tranquil maze of paths and two storey houses set on the beach front. From our house you could see the sea.

We then had lunch, which consisted of a vast array of salads, and then hot food.  We stuffed ourselves, a pattern which was to continue through the weekend (breakfast and dinner turned out to be equally awe inspiring). Replete, we went for swims in both the hotel pool and the sea. Mombasa has an reef around 500m offshore, and so the sea is shallow and actually gets bathwater hot under the sun, which is a most discombobulating sensation.

We also went for a short walk along the beach, where we were followed by beach boys wanting us to go for boat rides or trying to sell us souvenirs. The amazing thing is that you build up a queue of beach boys each craving your attention. When you finally get rid of one man, 'We do not want to go on a boat ride, we are not interested', the next bloke, who has been listening the whole time will say 'I have very cheap boat rides...'. Argh. To echo the old Confederate plea, for which we now have considerably greater sympathy, "all we ask is to be let alone''.

Although, it must be said, we enjoyed three boat trips over the weekend, organised by the indomitable Anssi who speaks Swahili and so can negotiate with the beach boys to get a good price, all in lateen rigged boats or trimarans, otherwise known as dhows.

The first was with some 'Rastas', who took us to a Mangrove swamp and the reef. On the way a rather pitiful story was told of how they had to start fishing to support their families when they were 7, and as a result didn't get an education and were stuck at the beach, with no other options open to them. Once there, Rasta no. 2 was stung by a firefish and decided he needed to go to hospital for a 'shot'. Everything here can be cured by a 'shot' or quick injection. It turns out that you can get an injection to protect you from the changes in climate. We probably should of had that jab before we came to Mombasa as it is so hot here. Anyway Rasta no. 1 thought this was hilarious, and so we carried on.  They told us that they had asked the fishermen what had happened and that the reply was that Rasta 2 would be fine. Had he really been fishing from the age of 7!

The second was a pure sail, with the Union Jack and the Jamican national flag steaming in the breeze, again one suspects Rastas.  There is something very peaceful about sailing along in the wind, when all you can hear is the crashing of the waves. On the third trip we went snorkelling, which was quite an experience. I think learning to dive should be squeezed in somewhere on our year off as it was fantastic. Not all the funky wildlife was below the waves however as we had monkeys in the hotel which ate the rubbish, weaver birds making their nests within touching distance, and plenty of crows which ate the weaver birds (sob). The dining rooms were also open and had birds continously visiting.

Sadly the time past too quickly and before we knew it we had to leave Mombasa. But I think we will be back very shortly. We are now back in Nairobi, enjoying a respite from the sun (and sunburn).

All things tall and graceful

There is a saying that helps to explain this continent which we have heard from time to time as follows, 'this is Africa', and we are now starting to understand the full import of this phrase.  But in the meantime, this was the week that was:

The week followed the usual pattern, pottering around the compound during the day, and playing with the May family children (only three! of them usually) in the evenings, before retiring exhausted to our supper (yum) and scrabble (which Jo wins).

This weekend, we went to the giraffe centre, which is only a few kilometers from us. Once again we learnt the amazing kindness of the Kenyan people (our taxi driver (a Masai called Samuel) took us back home via an unscheduled stop at the Karen Blixen museum and chatted up the security guards whilst we were looking around. The guards then took us for a short walk through the woods to show us a hyrax which was hiding inside a tree.  Random, but this is Africa).

Anyway, back to the giraffes. The giraffe centre is essentially a 5 meter high tower in a field, where the giraffes come to say hi, and one can feed them treats whilst warthogs frollick playfully in the sun. For example, a pellet placed between the lips results in a slobbery giraffe kiss, although we were too chicken and just fed them by hand, which was slobbery enough for us. (If any of you are curious, they do nip a little when the feel that they are not fed quickly enough).  Giraffes are around 4.5 to 5.5 metres tall, extremely graceful and very gentle. Dispite all this, they can kill a lion with a kick (apparently the 'spine shatters to the brain', thank goodness it is only lions...) They are also intellegent (they stick out their tongue so that you can throw the food to them, and will turn thier heads so that three people can do this concurrently). All in all, we came away thoroughly enamoured, and then went for a walk in a 'dry upland forest'.

On Sunday we went to see the Nairobi Orchestra with the Simojokis (Marja and most of her children has been a members for many years). This seemingly innocuous experience bordered on the surreal due to the fact that both Joanna and I have been roped in to the Christmas concert in three weeks time. Again, this is Africa. All we need now are instruments...

We have also managed to get ourselves hooked on 24, having managed to avoid it for years in the UK, so it is likely to be a sleepless night...

Nairobi Wildlife

We are sitting here replete having had a yummy dinner of beef stew and wonderful mashed potato (heaven after the ubiquitous ugali), listening to Band Aid 84 – Feed the World with Carine the Congolese, squishing mosquitoes and enjoying the sheer, wondrous incongruity of it all.

Here in Karen the wildlife on offer is guard dogs (which keep us up in the evening), and birds (which wake us up in the morning). Admittedly, there was a snake which leapt out at Joanna from the washing bag (the house manager was still chuckling about it when I met her hours later). But all in all, we found ourselves craving giraffes, hippos, lions and stuff, so this morning found us piling into a land rover with the family May (9 in all) to go to the Nairobi National Park, all of 5 miles down the road.

Minutes later we were in the park, looking at different types of antelope (horny), zebras (which grumpy father May said were only stripy donkeys), crocodiles (Swahili Mumba), birds with a death wish (the crocodile only had to move its head for a feathery snack), giraffes (spotty), rhinos (big but static) and all the other assorted miscellany of Africa (no cats though, therefore they are boring).

I should mention at this time a small note on the organisation of the park. There are around 6 roads in all, with numbered junctions, marked clearly on both the map, and on the junction itself, better signposted than even Palmers Green. Very easy, and practically impossible to get lost. Only, we managed! After a few minutes of pootling along we, in true cheesy BBC documentary style, had a disaster.

Driving along a dubious looking track, the Landrover got stuck in mud, and started to sink. Fortunately, still in cheesy documentary land, a bunch of cheery locals appeared as if from no-where, shook their heads at the stupidity of these Muzungos, and proceeded to dig us out. Meanwhile, having been unloaded from the car, the kids produced a pile of bones from nowhere. The rescuers then suggested that we take a different way (which looked twice as lethal as that already failed), so we turned tail and fled back the way we had come.

We picnicked at a leopard viewpoint, in the blazing sun, with amazing burning benches (I had a sore bum by the end of lunch by any rate). Sadly we saw no leopards and before long were on our way.

You will recall me mentioning that Kenya has been in the middle of a drought, well the animals in the park were on the whole sleek and fat, especially the bloody zebra, which were everywhere. We have also had lots of recent rain, which has led to green shoots showing on the vegetation (let’s pray that we do have enough rain…). However, the evidence of the drought was all around in the cows carcasses which were our ever present companions, they are obviously not as hardy as their wild cousins.

Our final treat for the day was saved for the nature trail on which we met our first hippos, and a kingfisher.

Then it was a rather bumpy ride (especially for Jo in the boot) back to the compound, for a game of cops and robbers, before tea, and now… bed.

We're singing in the rain...

The last few nights sleep have been fitful, as we have been awakened by the rain slamming down upon the roof, and falling in cascades upon the balcony. It rains so hard that even the inimitable guard dogs, who spend thier lives barking at intruders, residents, chickens, insects, each other, nothing, ad nauseam remain schtum. This rain is, believe it or not a blessing. Not only is incessant and pointless barking wearing on the nerves, but East Africa is currently in a severe drought. This is evidenced by much complaining that it has only been possible to work 2 days a week as there is no electricity for the other 3 working days (most electricity here is hydroelectric). The drought is so bad that the Masai have started to bring their herds of cattle into Nairobi to eat whatever vegetation is available. Apparently around 90% of the herds have died, and those that remain are heartbreakingly thin. Perversely, one gets a sense of how massive cattle actually are when the skeletons are in such stark relief. The herders walk along folornly at the side, looking very serious, but light up when we say hello. We have not yet had the heart to take a photo, but shall try in the future. Every Kenyan we talk to is overjoyed that it is raining - 'it is a blessing from God', but secretly, we cannot wait for the sun to appear.

Nairobi

It took all of a week for us to finally make it into Nairobi. In the meantime, Ed has been looking at the accounts, and Jo has been counting books. Last Sunday we went to an Ethiopian restaurant with Anssi and his wife, which was excellent. They served strong black coffee with burning incense, which was a little unexpected.

Then we went to where the rift valley has its largest drop over land, at around 1000m. The view was beautiful, if a little hazy and it felt a lot like being in Europe (fir trees and cold). I guess it was not surprising as we were now at over 3000m. The African way of dealing with beauty spots is to build shops all along them, and then hassle the tourists. There was a boy selling rabbits. He told me that if he didn’t sell a rabbit he wouldn’t have any food to eat. In the name of charity (one can’t have a child go hungry) I told him to eat the rabbit.

It is noticeably hotter in Nairobi than Karen. First we went to the Masai market, a colourful assortment of tourist trash (otherwise known as traditional artisan products) where every trader seems to believe that if he nags for long enough we will buy all his merchandise at vastly inflated prices. It works, we somehow came away with a souvenir.


Leaving the Masai market, it is only a short walk to the parliament buildings, which seem not to have been built by the most gifted architect. Here we saw our first parking wardens (they had ‘Corruption is evil, parking attendant’ written on the back of yellow lab coats). We passed more government buildings on our way to the National Museum, all of which had signs announcing that they were ‘Corruption Free Zones’. Many of these, for example the ‘Water and Sanitation Ministry’, had hand painted signs which could have been done better by my old cub pack. Corruption free zones, my a@*!.

The National Museum was an interesting overview of Kenya and its tribes. Pride of place was given to an elephant’s skeleton along with assorted fibreglass models of said elephant. Apparently Kenyatta liked it. They also had an anthropological section. I had no idea that so many early hominids had been discovered. For those of you who are familiar with Lucy, as far as I could tell, her skeleton has been super glued to a piece of Perspex! It is also the only building I have ever been in where they hose down the floors to clean them.

Then it was back to base in time for an e-mail bonding session with some Tanzanians who are staying on the compound. They are all on Facebook, but no internet connections.

So far we haven’t been robbed. We also learnt that real men drive through red lights.

Settling in, aka sleeping

The last few days have been very relaxed, with early breakfasts, followed by a little sleep, and then elevenses, followed by lunch and a walk, before a sleep, dinner, and another sleep. Our hosts say that this is normal when one comes to Nairobi.

On our walks we have seen many incongruously shiny shopping centres in the midst of some fairly poor houses. We are also the only white people who we have seen walking. The vast majority of the whites (your aid money probably, there are loads of NGOs here) drive brand new SUVs (to be fair they probably need them for safety as the Kenyans drive like maniacs).

Today has been our most eventful day. There was a monkey looking through the window when we woke up. Then our host decided to reverse into the tree in the middle of the drive (he has only been here for 20 years). Hard.
The parliamentary expenses malarkey has made it to Kenya. The Kenyans think it is a huge joke. In a country where 6% of people live on less than $1 a day, HIV rates in the slums are running at 20% (life expectancy 45 in those areas), people dying because they can not get water, the politicians are embezzling millions upon countless millions. A moat here and there is nothing.
The mystery of why Joanna is so much more tasty to mosquitoes than me may also have been solved. Apparently they like the A blood type.
Anyway, tonight a sauna, and tomorrow Nairobi proper...

Karibu Kenya

Our home is at the foot of the Ngong hills in Karen. A district where all the houses are on 5 acre plots with tall trees and plenty of security guards. We have a rather large room in a very colonial looking house with a big veranda. The room also has a small office and an en-suite bathroom, but most importantly a beautiful balcony from which we can admire the birds, snakes and any other animals which might appear in the coming weeks. The camera is never very far from hand. Our room is very basic but we have made it our own, putting up pictures, scattering around the hundreds of books we bought and giving the radio pride of place instead of a TV. Downstairs is a communal seating room and an outside dining room, where all our meals are served. At breakfast we are joined by some small humming birds, which are preferential to the snakes which have been spotted in the past.

Our Journey to Kenya

Well, here we are at the airport, enjoying a few minutes to sit and do nothing after the excitements of the past few days. It turns out that we could easily have spent a few more days pottering around rather than the mad dash that we have been forced to endure.

The last few days have gone as follows…

First, we left our jobs, a teary occasion for Joanna.

We then had a wedding, which took up the weekend (you know who you are, hope the honeymoon’s going okay…) once assorted visits to relatives were factored in.

We then spent Monday, not packing as planned, but chasing banks, as one card after another toppled due to suspected fraud. Argh. But ‘at least you know your money is safe’…

On Tuesday we packed, seemingly all day.

Anyway, the airplane calls.

We (and all our luggage) are now in Kenya. We were greeted at the airport by James and his driver and had a smooth drive thorough Nairobi to our new home (and luxury suite) in Karen where after a brief tour we collapsed in bed.

It is surprisingly cold here, everyone wears jumpers, but hopefully the sun will come out soon. Depressingly, given twelve hour days, I think everyone gets up with the sun, which as far as I can tell is at 6.00 (I was, at the time, dead to the world).

Everyone we have met has been very friendly to us, and we got up to a breakfast of cereal, tea, coffee, Juicy Mongo juice and yummy rolls.

Finally, the view from the bedroom window across the compound. Sadly no lions, giraffes, hippos et al yet, but we can hear lots of birds and even see the stars, a novelty after London.