5.22.11

May 22, 2011

Well, its Sunday afternoon and I am lying on a blanket out on the KEFRI grounds. Pat and Leah left this morning for Mombasa, and I’ll be headed there as well on Wednesday. On Friday we were finally able to move into the rooms at KEFRI, and away from the cold showers and lizards at KARI down the road. It is much more convenient and much cheaper, not to mention being nicer. The only downside is not having easy access to the Muguga Club. I haven’t quite figured out how to buy beer in Nderi, the nearest village – I think you have to exchange bottles at the bar, but I don’t currently own any empty bottles.

Saturday was epic. It was our first venture into Nairobi via matatu, which we were all nervous about. The plan was to take a matatu into the city center then catch a bus out to the Kenya Wildlife Service headquarters at Nairobi National Park. There, we would meet up with some of the other IU students interning here in Kenya, and check out the Animal Orphanage, for injured and hurt critters. Sounds pretty simple, right?

We left the house around 10 am, and walked up the hill to Nderi, where we picked up the matatu, parked and fuming on the side of the dirt street. I never in a million years would have imagined myself in one of these contraptions. Imagine a small Euro-looking minivan. Now age it 30 years. Rip out all of the interior so you have a metal floor and roof, and somehow bolt eight seats in the back. Oh, and don’t forget to rip off all of the mirrors and remove the shocks. Squeeze in twelve people and there you have it, a Kenyan matatu. There is the driver up front, with a helper, and a conductor in the back taking money – its such a tight fit that they are literally crawling over passengers to give you change, and sometimes, just leave the sliding door open and hang out of the side of the vehicle!

We made it to town, and got out at what looked like the city center. I’ve examined Nairobi on Google maps pretty extensively, but it didn’t help. There are no signs and no traffic lights. People are just running in and out of traffic, dodging cars. Chaos, but strangely, not very many horns. It’s really quite interesting to watch traffic – there aren’t really any rules, so people are weaving and cutting through congestion, everyone is merging, but because everyone is expecting it, cars move right along. I think I would probably get whiplash from trying to look in every direction at once.

We stopped and asked a security guard where to catch the bus that we needed, which began the theme of the day. No one knows locations. Only directions. Insert colonial accent:

Bryson:

Excuse me. Do you know where to find bus 24 to Langata Road? Nairobi National Park?

Kenyan:

(not understanding accent)

Nairobi?

Bryson:

Yes. Nairobi National Park. You know, Langata Road? Karen (it’s a town)?

Kenyan:

Oh! Yes, yes, yes. Sawa (ok). Park. You must take bus 35.

Bryson:

Bus 35? Not 24?

Kenyan:

Oh yes. 35. It is just there. Straight. Then right.

(gestures down the street)

Bryson looks. There are a million buses, pointing in every direction.

Bryson:

(mimics gesturing, looking particularly white)

Just there? Stay straight, then right?

Kenyan:

Yes.

Bryson:

Ok! Asante sana!

(leaves, turns to companions)

Did you guys get that?

(everyone shakes head)

Now repeat the process as needed, receiving different bus numbers and routes, but similar directions and hand gestures, until you arrive at your destination. I’ve got to say, everyone has been happy to help, and Kenyans are some of the friendliest people I have gotten to meet. However, their public transportation system is a zoo, and not to be tackled by the faint of heart. The key is to go with the flow, and realize that eventually, you’ll (probably) get to where you are going.

Anyway, we made it to the bus (it actually WAS bus 24), and headed out to the park, to meet with the other interns. Nairobi National Park is the only national park in Africa abutting an urban center. You can literally drive 10 minutes away from Kenyatta Avenue, and see all of the Big Five with the exception of elephants. That’s lion, leopard, cape buffalo, and rhino. You’ve seen all of those creatures at the zoo. No biggie. However, I guarantee you’ve never seen them while wild baboons prowl around on the paths behind you. Those things are bad news and will stop at nothing to steal your sandwich - and you had better give it to them. They are total thugs. At one point we heard a commotion and turned to see a big male baboon walking on top of one of the cheetah pens – I think it was taunting them a little. The cats were going crazy, growling and trotting back and forth. The monkey, which was a lot bigger at eye level, sprang into the middle of the enclosure, snatched a morsel of food, and vaulted up the 20 foot fence on the other side. The whole pen was shaking, branches were waving, and the cheetahs were snarling. Intense. Don’t mess with baboons.

The baboons definitely added some flavor to the whole experience, but this was not like a zoo back at home. There was no looking at a lion from the top of a forty foot pit, or from behind bullet proof glass. The only thing separating you from the beasts was a simple chain link fence, which did not seem like much protection at all when the cats starting pacing in arms reach. Watching lions from a distance at the zoo, or on Animal Planet is very much different from the real thing. From three feet away, it is easy to see that you really don’t stand a chance against a predator of this magnitude. I was standing eye to eye with the young male lion in the enclosure and we both knew that I was prey. I can’t wait to go on safari and see them in the wild!

As we were peering at the mongoose cage (Riki-Tiki-Tavi has got some crazy red eyes!) one of the ranger guys walked up and offered to take us in the cheetah cage for 10 bucks. 10 bucks? Done. Let’s make a shady deal in an African wildlife park. All the employees were in on it, and we had to wait while they distracted the supervisor. While we were waiting, our guy took us to the back of the compound where some monkeys were hanging out (no baboons). There were Sykes and Vervets, and another type with which I was not familiar. The one we were interested in was a young Vervet, which the ranger coaxed onto our shoulders with peanuts. I could hear it chewing in my ear, and it was interested in my wristbands – it crawled down my arm to pick at them.

We finally got the go-ahead for Operation Shady Cheetah Picture. I didn’t realize that these were the cheetahs that had just been chasing the baboon. Nor did I realize that they would be eating while we went in the cage. Hmm. Lets see. Two keyed up cheetahs in attack mode, who are also anxious to be fed? This is a good idea. The guys slung two huge beef shoulders onto a wooden platform and waved me into the cage. You’ve got to be kidding me. You shouldn’t touch a strange dog while he’s eating, and you want me to sit on a platform with two six foot long cheetahs eating raw meat? Let’s do it. I even stroked them after the keepers did it without being disemboweled – cheetah hide feels a little bit like touching a horse with his winter coat – the hair is fairly long, and very coarse.

After escaping the cheetah pen (a crowd of people had gathered to watch us sit with the cheetahs, and the rangers were raking in the cash), we caught the matatu back to Nairobi to get an early supper and a beer. Lonely Planet to the rescue! We found a restaurant close to the old American embassy, the one that was bombed back in 1998 (?), and had Indian food (it is prevalent) accompanied by some ice cold Tuskers.

Supper was over, which meant we now had to find our way home. Our newly found navigational confidence was soon dashed to bits. As opposed to looking for a bus, with a dude hanging out the window holding a numbered sign, matatus are clustered together along certain corners on Kenyatta and Moi Avenues (the main drags). They follow the same routes as the buses, but you have to know which bus route you need, as well as where the proper fleet of matatus can be found. We walked for an hour and a half before we found the right spot, which turned out to be a back alley that we would never have stumbled across had someone not led us to it. By the end of the search, we were darting and running across four lanes of traffic with the best of the Kenyans. Did I mention that the city is polluted? I wiped my nose with a Kleenex when we got back and it came away black.

Though the cheetahs and monkeys were pretty cool, arguably the best part of my day was walking into a clean room and taking a HOT SHOWER! The first hot water I’ve not had to drink in over a week – the Kenyans drink everything hot because it is winter, even Kool-aid, which is popular for breakfast.

That brings me to my blanket out on the KEFRI lawn. I was just interrupted by a wedding party, which drove up in cars adorned with bows and ribbons. I think they were as surprised to see me as I was to see them – the compound is deserted. They were having a good time taking wedding pictures; all the kids were running on the grass playing and whispering about the resident mzungu. The pastor came and hung out with me for a while, then invited me to church. I guess I look like I need it!

I walked up to the market at Nderi earlier to buy some fruit for the week, along with some peppers with which to try to make some bean soup, that is currently cooking. I’ve got no stock or seasoning, so I don’t have high expectations. The KEFRI folks supplied us with a burner on top of a gas can, essentially what you would cook crawfish on. It’s burdened with an absurdly large pot at the moment.

Anyway, I’ve come back outside, leaving the soup to boil its way to a middle class finish. The sun is setting and the rays are finding their way through the deep green leaves of the tree in front of me, and the tops of the distant wood line. The shadows are lengthening and insects are hatching and spreading their wings in flight across the yard. As they idly drift and float in and out of the setting rays, they light up, gleaming. A spider web in between a split trunk wavers in the breath of the evening breeze, and glimmers like gossamer. I can hear people softly chatting on the road away up the hill, heading home. A cow lows and I can just smell the hint of wood smoke from a cook-fire. Swifts and swallows are twisting over my head.

I’ll take myself to my supper. Best.