Since my last update I've experienced almost a week in
Kenya. I spent most of that in Nairobi and found the
city surprisingly safe, and refreshingly modern. The
people spoke English perfectly and the busy
cosmopolitan city was bustling with smartly dressed
professionals; suits, shiny shoes, and a mobile phone.
But the traffic was strikingly bad. Despite having
public transit (no subway, only busses; this is Africa
remember) the streets were choked with vehicles - most
of which would never pass any first-world emissions
test. It seems the tuktuk hasn't been discovered here,
which would help the traffic somewhat. During rush
hour, I could walk the 3km to downtown from the hostel
at least 20 minutes faster than any vehicle could make
it. And it's a 20 minute walk. Oddly, the traffic
police direct things during daylight hours, and the
traffic lights are ignored.
The taxis were overpriced ($5 for a 5 minute ride), so
I frequented the busses and matatus (aka daladala, aka
collectivo. They're private minivan busses, pouring
smoke from the exhaust pipe, filthy and crammed with
people).
I met a woman on the bus while traveling back to the
hostel. She was smartly dressed, a receptionist, and
her english was perfect. She suddenly told me "I live
in Kibera. Have you heard of Kibera?". My eyes
widened. Kibera is the largest slum in the world, and
is located on the western edge of Nairobi. I told her
"Yes of course I've heard of it. But.. how can you
live there? What's your house like?". "I live in a
shack." Wow, I have since learned that lots of
gainfully employed people reside in the slum and some
even like the neighbourhood.
On my last day in Nairobi I was wandering the National
Archives and while searching for a balcony I found an
industrial scene on the rooftop, and took a photo of
it (see flickr). The security guard brought me down
to the directors office, and I kindly went along.
Thought it would be interesting, and curious what it
was about. Of course, he suspected me of terrorism,
because only terrorists take photos of non-touristy
things. Later the security guard outside the enormous
Kenyatta Conference Center stopped me while taking a
wide photo of the enormous edifice. He asked what I
was doing: "Taking a photo. I'm a tourist - it's what
we do", I responded. He slowly and emphatically
replied, "That's a very bad idea." Later I wanted to
take a photo of some movie-theater hot-dogs, but of
course that wasn't allowed either.
Another strange thing about Kenya is that smoking is
banned in public places. Outside. But inside bars
and restaurants its fine. This is one of those laws
that run contrary to logic (like Zambia making cars
daytime-running lights illegal). Its best not to
think about these things and just accept it: This is
Africa. Logic is out of the question.
One night in Nairobi I went out to a nice pub with
live African music and a relaxed outdoor atmosphere. I
knew that prostitutes were common in bars in Africa
and wondered how you could tell them apart from just
regular women being nice. After 20 minutes an
unattractive black woman sat down beside me. She was
even missing a tooth, and asked me my name. I told
her, and she told me hers. "Lucky". Well, I didn't
have to wonder any longer.
Everytime someone sees my Canadian flag they say
"Canada! Vancouver Toronto Montreal?" Always in that
order. They tell me that most people they meet are
from Vancouver. Perhaps Vancouverites are just more
likely to speak to the locals here instead of ignoring
them.
Its nearly everyday that I do a double-take and see
something totally random that makes me laugh. Most
people in East Africa buy second-hand clothes, and
most of these clothes come from North America. So you
encounter the most random and fun shirts. Example: a
kid on the side of the train tracks in Tanzania with
an old-school Canucks logo on his sweater. Or a
begging man on the street wearing a Vancouver Sea Bus
shirt. Or a guy in Dar es Salaam wearing the high
school phys-ed uniform from the school that a fellow
traveler attended in Washington DC. Two of my
favourite shirt sightings were a teenager with a shirt
reading "#1 Grandpa", and another time a young man
with a shirt explaining "It's not a bald spot, it's a
solar panel for my sex machine".
And it extends to vehicles too. A matatu (remember,
minivan bus) painted with Toronto Blue Jays colours
and logos all over it. And Africans don't even like
baseball.
I also spent two days in Hell's Gate National Park with a dutch traveler. The park is one of the only you can bicycle and hike through, and the Rift Valley scenery was beautiful. I discovered that zebras and gazelles are terrified of humans on bicycles or foot but completely ignore vehicles. We even explored a naturally carved river gorge and had to rock climb over hot-springs. This area is very geologically active and the government generates electricity from geothermal energy. It reminded me of Iceland.
Last night I took a night train to Mombasa, on the Kenyan coast. In the morning we passed through Tsavo, famous for the man-eating Tsavo lions. Back when the railway was being built, over one hundred workers were eaten by lions. There's even a movie about it which I've seen: The Ghost and the Darkness. Now I'm heading south to Zanzibar where I'll spend the rest of my trip on the sunny archipelago rich in history and culture.
As usual check out my flickr photos by clicking the thumbnail above!
-Mike