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).