We woke up this morning to hazy skies and delicious French toast. Sitting across from us at the breakfast table was a nice couple from Germany. The wife grew up in Nairobi and left after a few years studying German and a hasty marriage to obtain a visa. They opted to spend the day here in the Guest House because the husband had had enough of Nairobi after just a day.
Before venturing out, we met Sandi and David, the owners of SanDavy Guest House, who were very helpful in arranging the next phase of our journey—the trip to Arusha—and offered tips on how to navigate downtown Nairobi. To get from our guest house to downtown requires, first, a 15 minute walk where we exchanged currency (“She’s a Brick House”was on the radio and Josh bonded over the music with the shopkeeper), and we also detoured through a local open air market where people were selling all sorts of goods—clothes, shoes, vegetables—and where men were washing their cars. Near the local market was a higher end, permanent, shopping center with much higher prices, bathrooms with toilet paper, and people with laptops, ipods and business outfits; Java Café, Tuskus (Pay Less, Get More, Everyday) supermarket, Dress for Success clothing store. We were both struck by the distinct income difference of Kenyans, literally sitting side by side.
Across the street we found the local bus stop. After boarding the KBS (Kenyan Bus Service) for 30 shilling each (that’s less than 50 cents), we took seats in the back and quickly learned that the shocks left a bit to be desired. All the buses here play the radio so everyone can hear. We were reminded of home by lots of American music blaring through the bus’s speakers. The radio playlist included: Bette Midler “From a Distance,” Seal “I Believe I can Fly,” and BeeGees “You Could be Dancing.” Also interestingly, besides some bobbing heads, and a few people in conversation, the rest of the passengers did not read or have anything else to do. Just waiting patiently for their stops. It’s a bit of a different culture in this regard. No one is rushing anywhere. I wonder what they do after dinner when they get home? I imagine that there is not an urgent need to get home to take the kid to music class, pop off a few emails, and catch the next episode of “Mad Men.”
We got off the bus when most the other passengers did, assuming we were “downtown.” And we were! What a chaotic city. Lots of traffic. Lots of people dodging buses, cars, trucks, and motor bikes. Crossing the street? Well, let’s say it’s a good idea to cross when the locals cross, and run! Most all the sidewalks are separated from the street by a curb, of sorts, and cement black and white poles about a meter high (yes they hurt when you walk into them) to keep cars from opting out of traffic and taking the pedestrian path. Guessing this must have been a problem at some point.
After exploring this downtown square of the city (Kenyan National Archive, City Hall, Hilton were some of the main markers for the area), we stopped at a local bar to have a drink and get our bearings, as we didn’t want to pull out our map on the street. Before getting there, one man tried to pull his con stunt on us. After telling us he was a professor (seems to be the thing to say to get foreigners to talk to you) he pulled out a Finland flag patch and claimed it was Canadian. We eventually got away, nicely, always, as we learned that all things must be done with a smile.
From the bar, we ventured to find a local and authentic place to eat our first Kenyan meal. And boy did we find it! It was a sit down place that had walls reminiscent of a Cuban restaurant. Orange and bright red tiling on the walls, and a palm tree would have fit in easily, perhaps because a portion of the seats were in an open area flanked by two wings of roofed seating. There were also about 4-6 sinks along the wall in full view. That is so that customers can wash up before and after eating. We sat alongside people on their lunch breaks and ordered whatever was suggested. Roast beef stew, a whole fish, greens and some mashed maize (or was it mashed rice?) appeared before us. We received a 3 second lesson on how to eat the mashed stuff—grab, dip, and shove in mouth. Though we were offered utensils, we gracefully declined as we noticed that nobody else was using them.
The next mission was getting home. After walking circles, albeit small circles, in the city, we came upon a mobile blood donor clinic where people were eager to help us when we asked for directions to the bus station. “This is a government vehicle, we can take you to a place closer to your destination,” they offered. No thank you. It took several friendly faces to figure out which bus takes us back to our neighborhood and then several more to figure out where to find said bus.
And then…..the insanity of the bus terminal. Each bus has a driver and, what we’ll call, a first mate. The first mate wears a ShopRite style vest and collects the money while the bus is in transit. When the bus is at the station the first mate holds a sign marking the bus number and emphatically waives it out the window, bouncing it up and down on its edge, dangling it like he were luring a dog or cat to get a treat. I would think that they get a commission on the number of passengers, since they were very emphatic in this method of waiving the bus number. The scene there included buses lining up, which two men in suits would direct in and out of the line of waiting buses. All the while, people are pushing on and off the buses. The first mates and the two men in suits bang the side of the bus—thud thud— to alert the driver to go or stop, the opposite of whatever he was doing. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to this mess, but we’re sure it’s just the regular order of the day. Just when we were thinking that our bus would never come, and coming close to resigning ourselves to an overpriced taxi, in arrived bus #4W. We jumped on, and within 3-4 minutes we were off.
Interestingly, the bus was now 20 shillings more then the inbound bus. It was just after 5pm so we were probably charged the peak prices? There was much more traffic at this time, more than doubling the 15 minute ride time it took to get to the downtown. The traffic was a result of getting into the roundabouts, some of which even had a traffic guard. Of note, though the roads were two lanes in each direction, we often saw a motorist skip the traffic by creating a third lane in his direction, you can guess what happens when this doesn’t work out. The first mate thankfully shouted out our stop “Add-um!” for Adam’s Arcade, the only stop he shouted out. Whew, what a day! Yes, one day is probably enough to be in Nairobi--at least for now.
[please check back, pictures to come....]
