11:18, Monday, 12 August, 2013

13 December – 25 December

My 23^rd birthday was spent in transit to Nairobi.  First thing in the morning we gave the car an extra thorough check-up given the adventures of the previous night.  I wrote “13” on the December chore checklist in the lab tent, thinking a bit forlornly but mostly relieved that no one seemed aware of my birthday. However, as we drove out of the driveway, Charlie brought it up first thing.  In honor of my birthday, he insisted on driving all the way to Narok, where we had to pick up the Hilux, and then sweetly bought me lunch at the new café there.  Then we had trouble finding the workplace of Abdul, the Narok mechanic.  All eyes were on us as we drove through the crowded streets in the cruiser, hearing the soft mutterings of “hyena research” typical of larger towns, where people often read our decal aloud in amused tones.  After a couple trips round the town, several times past the school we had been told was nearby, several times around the lovely mosque, and two calls to Benson and then Abdul, we finally met Abdul at a gas station and followed him to his place.  No wonder we couldn’t find it, nestled back in an alley on a narrow dusty dirt street as it was, specifically the most ridiculously bumpy village street I had ever seen (which is saying a lot after two trips plus 7 months in Kenya).  Abdul and his wife were very pleasant, and we quickly obtained our vehicle.  I’m still not quite sure how we managed to squeeze out through the madness, but eventually we made it back to the gas station pump with both vehicles.  All tires were filled up to a psi of 38; it was time to drive on tarmac into the city. 

So we’re taking off down the road, I’m driving the cruiser, Charlie’s in the Hilux.  We had already determined it would be a longer trip than normal since the Hilux was not yet completely fixed; it had run out of power, and wasn’t shifting well.  Abdul had fixed it as well as he could, and now we were taking it to Ian and some car electricians in Nairobi.  But we were just happy to finally be out of Narok and embarking on the latter half of the journey.  I followed Charlie so that I wouldn’t go too fast for the Hilux.  Turns out the Hilux did well and got up to about 80 kph when not climbing.  The assumedly well-working cruiser was another story. I tried to follow suit when the Hilux began going a nice speed, but when I got up to 60 kph going down a hill, all of a sudden the steering wheel started shaking.  I was very afraid, not sure what was going on, worried that I would fly uncontrollably to the side of the road at any second.  I signaled Charlie over as soon as we reached the bottom.  We thoroughly checked the cruiser over and could find nothing wrong.  Alright, well, it’s fine under 60 kph.  Looks like this is going to be an even longer Nairobi trip than anticipated.  We putzed along.  Now I was in front setting the pace. We came upon the familiar series of large hills.  At least the cruiser could climb hills okay.  Looking in my rearview mirror, contrarily I swore Charlie was going to roll backwards in that powerless Hilux. Thank God the scenery and people flanking the roads, the villages were entertaining to watch.  I still about went crazy singing the same song over and over again; we weren’t allowed to listen to music on such trips since we had to listen for car troubles (wise indeed).

At long last we made it up the escarpment overlooking the beautiful Rift Valley and onto the freeway.  Almost there...or not. I looked and looked for the elephant sign that would signal it was time to turn left, sure this time that they’d taken it down.  Alright, I’ll look for the Kinyozi (barber shop) sign Dave told me about.  Well, he meant the street following the Kinyozi sign, not the Kinyozi sign street itself.  I turned where the Kinyozi sign was and ended up in unfamiliar territory.  We stopped to get directions, and were directed back to the freeway.  I couldn’t find the turn the direction lady had mentioned, and probably broke a law or two pulling over to the side of the freeway to avoid ending up downtown, which is where I knew the freeway to end.  We squeezed along a path through a random village and asked directions again.  This time we were directed back near where we had made a wrong turn.  Directions again.  A couple of strange and busy villages; I still wasn’t sure if this was the way. It looked like more typical Nairobi suburbia and nothing like Karen, so I asked again and was told to just continue on.  I kept an eye out for the Shell gas station where we normally turn, and almost turned at the wrong Shell station while trying not to hit the large number of donkey carts, dogs, chickens and masses of people everywhere.  Thankfully they and the occasional matatu effectively blocked the wrong way.  I finally realized where we were in relation to everything as we were suddenly spit out by the Junction, of all places. We would have to drive back along Ngong Road.  Then I lost Charlie.  I looked back, and he wasn’t there.  So I pulled to the side and waited, and waited, and waited.  I tried to call him, but he didn’t answer his phone.  So I’m getting worried waiting there like a dummy on the side, traffic rolling by.  Then FINALLY he answered his phone.  He had gotten pulled over by a cop for answering the call of someone back at camp wondering if we had made it yet; unbeknownst to us, it’s apparently illegal to talk on your cell phone while driving.  He said the cop had sat in his car and said she’d let him off without pay if he just called her Mom, and would say something like “I’m sorry Mom.”  So he had just laughed bewilderedly and nervously along with her and been allowed to continue on.  Very bizarre, but by this time I was too tired to contemplate.  Down Ngong and I lead Charlie through the route that I knew very well by now.  Karen – Dagoretti – Ndege – Maasai West – Bongani – Twiga – Koitobos. I was so happy to see that cottage.  We unloaded as darkness fell and called Ian to apologize for our late arrival and assure him we’d get the cars in first thing in the morning.  Jack and his girlfriend Hanna were at the cottage.  He had flown from the Mara to pick her up at the airport at around 0300 hours that day.  It was lovely to meet Hanna.  We relayed our crazy trip to the two of them, and then with rumbling stomachs, Charlie and I squeezed into the Suzuki and went to get KFC.  After a sandwich and malt the whole world seemed better.  Of course, though, we got a flat tire on the way back to the cottage.  I tried to keep from laughing as we bumbled around changing it by the dim light of my phone flashlight, politely refusing the help of several concerned people walking past.  We made it back on the spare.  What a daaaaay that was.

I talked with my parents and brother, who I had promised to call before bed.  Their birthday wishes made the whole whirlwind seem insignificant.  I could hardly believe I would get to see them in a couple short weeks.  I fell asleep smiling at the hyraxes’ cries of creaking down the hall and being brutally murdered.   

Oh, Nairobi.  If at the time I thought that was the most hectic day we would have that trip, I had another thing coming.  Those “couple short weeks” turned out to be anything but short.