From Nairobi to Bura

Mwangi advised that in order to reach to bus to Voi, where you can connect to the Bura matatu, I should leave the embassy at around 6:45 am. So early morning I left off to the Nairobi bus station with my new driver Kim, did the same route as András and Barbara almost a month ago.

Amidst heavy traffic, we made our way to the bus station, which, occupying a central place in Nairobi, was already buzzing with life, huge crowds walking up and down the streets. For me it was impossible to ascertain which building was the bus station – it did not differ in any ways from the rest of the buildings. We arrived so early that we had to time to have breakfast in a nearby hotel’s restaurant. I ordered full breakfast to keep me going during the day, and it consisted of a banana, some melon and papaya. Then came a cereal stick with hot milk, an omelette with some sausage, and orange juice and tea with milk. Boohoo, some real calories!

So I boarded the bus at 8:30am, but we only left off just after 9am. It is very typical that buses do not observe their schedule – however, they always arrive on time, due to some reasons nobody seems to be able to grasp. Voi is on the Mombasa highway, which is a 2-lane asphalt road, ridden with rather slow traffic. It is the trucks that slow it down, as oftentimes they do not go faster than 30 or 40km/h, so the bus, which was a luxurious one according to Kenyan standards, had to overtake continuously these slowly moving vehicles. Quite an adventure in itself… I have seen too many near-collisions to my taste, so ultimately I stopped looking ahead and enjoyed the side-view. The bus crossed some villages here and there, the roadsides full of garbage – there is no waste collection in Kenya, so people burn everything: organic waste, plastic, glass, metal, even medicine and batteries. And this leaves traces and waste. Many Kenyans sell their products to transient traffic: onions, some citric fruits in nets, refreshments, etc. My bus did not stop at any time, only once before Voi, where the passengers could refresh themselves and have some grub. Somewhat tired of the journey and of continuously observing the countryside – beautiful hills, mountains, some zebras, baboons, and termite castles – I arrived at Voi at 3pm, where Andras and Barbara were already waiting for me. They put me in a bar near the station to look out for our luggage (including mine, of 34 kilos!) while they did their shopping around the city. They bought some vinegar to disinfect things, oil, and some tools for the garden project. In the meantime I was left alone with a bottle of Tuskan, the best and most famous Kenyan beer, which seemed quite a good pastime. Naturally, people came around to see the Hungarian stranger and talk a little, and tried to sell me some stuff like shoes, CD’s, clothes, and whatnot.

Finally, the guys came back and we boarded the renowned Matatu! This is a Nissan transporter reconverted into a bus-like thing, with 12 seats. The Matatus here only leave when they are full, so we had to wait a little (half an hour) to get the thing full. So that you have an idea, the Hungarian Ministry of Foreign Affairs advise heavily against taking the Matatu anywhere and now I understand why. The vehicle cannot be trusted, it is slow like hell (or at least this one was), battered, shabby, and some Kenyan pop music (in Swahili) is screaming all the time (or psalms). But it is not bad at all, since all of this is very cheerful – makes you feel better about betting your life for a small journey to paradise. The journey took about an hour and a half (80km distance from Voi to Bura), and we were stopping here and there to drop off or pick up passengers. When I counted mid-journey, we were around 18 in the Matatu, squeezed in like sardines in a box. Luckily I had good company to the right, a guy named Christmas who explained me the song that was booming: it was about a woman, who cheated on her husband with another husband; the first husband then tried to murder the other one, but got injured or sick in the attempt; so the woman went to the doctor to ask for help, who got her pregnant in exchange, but saved the first husband’s life. And the husband and the wife lived happily ever after. The story was much more complicated than this – more complicated than a Brazilian soap opera – but I only managed to grab this much:)

It was getting dark when we arrived to Bura Mission, and I got my first view of the Saint Joseph’s, where I am to support the experimental garden project. The orphanage is a crazy but happy place… the kids were chanting my name (thanks to Barbara and Andras who already told them about me) and hell, they are saying my name correctly! Fantastic little guys, very friendly and full of love and in need of lots of love. The orphanage itself lies in a valley, surrounded by majestic mountains, whose tops are covered in clouds the moment I write. Rainy season is saying hello. The building is made of stone, has a patio inside where the kids can play and pray. I moved in with Andras in the volunteer shack, which is a two-bed room with full comfort: we have a wellness section (a tube coming out of the wall where you can take a shower and a bucket if you want to save the water) and a loo equipped with a tap and a mirror. We have electricity, clean water (I was told water is brown here but it looks crystal clear to me), and to be fair, that is all we need.

The personnel in the orphanage are great: Sister Willy (Wilhelmina) is the boss, a lady of some 60 years of age, joyful but strict with the kids and very loving. I have also met Prudence, Clement, and some other people whose name I keep forgetting, but learning.

Food is also great; very organic and delicious. The guys here eat meat twice a week (arrived too late for that… Tuesday was the first meat-day this week) and lots of veggies: rice, spinach, beans, lentils, cabbage (sukuma wiki), tomato, kasawa, onion, all cooked into some great dishes whose names I am just learning. Chapati, a corn/wheat flour tortilla serves as bread. I miss meat though, but my vegetarian friends are gonna be proud of me I guess. Oh, and lots of fruits, especially bananas, but other stuff too.

After dinner and a welcome party Andras and Barbara threw for me, I went to bed exhausted, dreaming that I live in a village in Africa… and funnily enough, it came true:)

I managed to shrink some photos too – more are on the way!

Nairobi

Tuesday was my second day in Nairobi, and I must say, this is one hell of a city. It is completely different from the West, and from what I am used to in Europe. Here, people walk along the highway and across the highway, carrying their stuff (many on the top of their heads) from who knows where to some strange places. Traffic varies - early morning and the afternoon are characterised by heavy traffic: cars, buses, matatus, motorbikes, bicycles, pedestrians, all mixed together in a colourful flourish. Interestingly, the Jaguar XJ's and the heavily beaten old Nissans can go side by side on the road here, and it all seems natural. There are no taxis - or at least organised taxi companies, maybe just a few. There are some private taxis, and of course they also speed like crazy - like anyone else - but they are way more agile than the usual driver. My driver yesterday, Mwangi, who brought me to the Hungarian Embassy from the Yomo Kenyatta airport aftern my arrival at 4am, offered me the driving seat, but I decided against it, in part due to my lack of experience in driving in such conditions, and also because they are driving on the left. And of course, Mwangi's beaten old Toyota did not make my confidence rise… Moreover, Andi Szegedi, vice-president of the Taita foundation, made me sign a paper where I declared not to drive while I am in Kenya. I’ll observe that unless some emergency makes me not to, and that’s a promise.

It is also possible to travel inside Nairobi in matatus or buses. However, I did not want to try this means of transport just yet. And anyhow, yesterday I was lucky enough to have the embassy Mercedes at my service (courtesy of our consul Edit Fekete), together with Paul, the driver, so getting by was not a problem.

Traffic lights are an absolute source of amusement. To my knowledge, they were installed just a few months ago, and nobody seems to care about them. Most of the lights also count down to green - the local administration have employed a quite sophisticated solution - but people just ignore them, during the day and at night, both in light and heavy traffic. It's going to take a serious cultural change to get them observed. I have seen some accidents too, but nothing too serious - the jam was rather small, it was a Matatu that turned over and a little farther two cars crashed into each other. No wonder the highest number of traffic accidents in the world is in Kenya.

Although many of you were worried about my safety, I must say, I do not feel worried at all here. I have also visited some commercial centres, despite my promises not to (sorry for that), and though the number of visitors was fewer according to Paul, life has moved on, and everything is the same as before. Westgate of course stays closed - they will probably demolish the building and erect something safer, as it has meant an ideal target for a terrorist attack since it was built five years ago. No wonder, being a centre for expats and rich Kenyans with a very vulnerable and accessible structure. The commercial centres I visited were OK, international brands such as Sony, Bata, Panasonic, etc. are all present, though I did not really enjoy seeing them. Because of its contrast to the poverty that rules here of course. What I liked though, was cooked corn with butter and lemon, and some salt, and those exotic veggies and fruits that abound around here. Even Paul did not recognise some of them. I have never before tasted popo, or papaya, but I have tried it today, and I have to realise, many locals smell of papaya.

As regards the terrorist attack, locals seem to believe that these kinds of things can happen anywhere - they have happened in Tanzania, US, UK... etc. They say, life's got to move on, and tragic things can always happen. Also, in the inner city, security is quite heavy - there are detector gates all over the place: at Safaricom, the commercial centre, restaurants, clubs - wherever you go (meaning, places of interest, where people with higher income might turn up), you will be checked and searched. Funnily enough, the checks are not so thorough. I was bringing my laptop in my bag and when the detector beeped the only question I received was: is there a laptop inside? I said yes and I was in. These checks are more a spectacle than anything else, but I hope they have their use.

On Tuesday, I have paid another visit to the VGE team at the Safaricom office. They are all fantastic guys, and really helpful and very supportive. Special thanks go to Sanjeev Baga, who helped me get a Safaricom SIM and register it too for my time of stay, and Ruby, who made the whole thing happen. Sanjeev also showed me around parts of Nairobi yesterday, and with his guidance I was able to get a quite authentic insight into how the city breathes during the evening and at night on a Monday.

I have also got to know this tiny Africa VGE team a little more - Linda, Mike, Kennedy, and the rest, in a team lunch. The topic of team building came up and it seems that they would like to go to the Masai Mara - an enviable place if it comes through, and one that I plan to visit too during my stay, especially if Gabor makes up his mind and decides to join me in Kenya for a some time. Otherwise it's go to be Tsavo, that's much closer to where I am now.

Special thanks to Mike too from the VGE team, for taking me to an accidental sight-seeing tour (wrong turn), and helping me find top-up cards for my local mobile (+254727019925, if you'd like to call or text), which interestingly are not on sale in the Safaricom Care Centre… and also for dropping me at the Hungarian Embassy. It was a huge help as the taxi drivers can get somewhat cheeky with their prices, even on small trips. But you always have to try to haggle - Tuesday morning was a disaster in this respect, as my 600 schilling trip ended up costing me 10 dollars - 400 schillings more, all because I ran out of local cash and had no idea of the exchange rate (I do now, 1USD = 85KSH).

In the shop too where I bought the cards, they attempted to rip me off, although in a somewhat smooth manner. When I already paid in cash, it turned out that it was possible to pay by credit card as well (my preferred option). Just as I was expecting, the shopkeeper almost kept the money I gave him after my payment with the credit card went through (how forgetful of him). Probably they prefer cash (untraceable), because once my card was in the terminal, they entered "SHOP" for my PIN, and told me that my credit card was not working. I showed them how to do this properly (seen it many times in my life, it is easy) - hopefully their next customer would get away easier. Probably not. You always have to be on the lookout, I have been told, and it is true.

However, as I have mentioned earlier, everyone is very friendly and helpful, strangers included. Naturally, the locals cannot always help - although they are supposed to speak both Swahili and English, the latter is not working that well all the time. Often, when I talk away to someone, they listen carefully, repeat some words I say and in the end it turns out that they did not get anything. Or, sometimes I ask them something, and the answer is some Swahili-English mixed bullshit - they do not ask back, just talk away, without any apparent meaning. I wonder about what, because it is impossible to understand. If this happens, the result is usually an embarrassed smile for both parties - you can also repeat the question, with a slower, more articulate tempo, and a simpler choice of words, and hope that you eventually get through. Usually it works, but communication gets somewhat slower overall.

I have had a new friend on Tuesday too, a guard called Robert Udula (Udula meaning storage or shed is Swahili). On Monday, while I was waiting for my ride (quite some time, as Sanjeev got lost a little, because the Hungarian Embassy is NOT on Kabarsirian Avenue, but on a side-street, as it turned out) I had a hearty chat with Robert. When we met today, he told me that he and the other guards got to like me a lot because of my openness and friendliness. Then he went on to ask for my phone number, so that he could show it to his family, as proof that he now has a foreign friend, and a European one at that. I did not hesitate either, but asked for his number, so that I can show it to you as proof of my Kenyan friend, when I am back:).

Wednesday morning saw my journey to Bura, Taita happen. 400 km's on bus, then another 100 on the Matatu. And this is a whole story in itself, so if connectivity allows, I'll make sure I post about it later. It was a crazy ride, that much I can tell.