aknards

Nyamera, your photos are wonderful! I can't believe you're disappointed - you must have some really terrific pics from previous trips. I'm leaving on my first safari in two weeks, to Tanzania. In my wildest dreams, I never imagined seeing that much wildlife. Did you happen to see more because you caught part of the migration or was that sort of the norm?

Nyamera

Leely, I’ve almost finished day 12, but today I’m so unprepared and hysterical for tomorrow that I don’t know if I can write anything. I’ve also noticed that Lynn has started posting her report.

Aknards, I don’t have terrific pictures from previous trips. I’m talking about the technical quality of the photos and comparing it to what most people post. I was hoping to get a lot of bird pictures that I could play games with on Safaritalk. I did not catch the migration. There were some zebras from the northwest in the reserve while last year I only saw herds of zebras in the Aitong area and not a single one inside. I was lucky with the masses of zebras and the leopard cubs, but otherwise I had normal sightings. There were parts of the Mara where there was just tall yellow grass and almost no animals.
Good look and have a wonderful trip.

Nyamera

<font color="red">The Report Continues</font>

Nyamera

<b>Day 10</b>

I was out on the streets of the city in the sun, but soon I was inside Nakumatt Lifestyle where I got a VIP greeting and bought some baby bananas to have for breakfast while checking my email. Outside Nakumatt I met Chris who followed me and stayed with me at the Internet place, eating my bananas, and expanding his theory that he was the first person who saw me and therefore should get my business. I tried to say that he only saw me on my 4th trip and that there were people at the Terminal who had wanted to do business with me since my 2nd trip. Anyway, I couldn’t afford more safaris and was taking the bus to Naivasha the following Monday. I had a reply from Fisherman’s saying that their lower rates started on Sunday, but now I had already decided to go on Monday. Chris said he’d leave me, but he needed 40 shillings for the matatu to Safari Park Hotel where he had some business. When I’ve found a way to live in Kenya – and I’m not planning to be poor in Kenya – I’ll do some business with Chris.

I walked up to University Way and got on a matatu to Westlands. I was going to have a look at Undugu Craft Shop – a fair trade project that might be of interest to Nyamera Kenya Imports. It was supposed to be on Woodvale Grove, but I walked down the whole length of the street without seeing it and then I thought about what I was doing. NKI needed to be killed and buried; I had to find a way to stay in Kenya and I couldn’t sell Kenyan curios in Kenya if I was going to be a rich person in Kenya. Instead I went to Chowpaty 100% vegetarian restaurant where I got far too much food. I couldn’t eat it all, so I got a doggie bag, which I didn’t ask for, as I didn’t have a kitchen. I thought about giving the food to the first person telling me he didn’t have money for food, which unfortunately is common in Nairobi, but nobody appeared. At the entrance of Sarit Centre a man asked me if I was interested in DVDs that he had at the back of the flower shop and I said yes, as I was interested in seeing the back of the flower shop. I told the seller that I thought I’d bought a DVD with six Africa themed films from him last year in the street and that several of the films finished halfway, but he said that he never sold anything in the street. I bought a DVD with 20 wildlife films for 500 shillings and then I asked him if he liked Indian food. Since it was still warm he accepted it. On the DVD cover he put a sticker with his name and phone number. I’ve checked and it’s the same name and number as on the DVD I bought in 2007.

Then I had a look at Banana Shop where a found some interesting jewellery with West African glass beads and Ethiopian silver. I spent a long time thinking of buying something for myself, but decided that money was better to have than jewellery. I don’t remember what more I did.

Back at the Terminal, Nelson suggested a restaurant behind Nakumatt and he said that he always had chicken curry. The only thing they could come up with for me was some chips; they couldn’t even chop up a tomato, so we left and went to Books First. I ordered a vegetable pizza and as there was no chicken curry Nelson insisted on having the same as I, even though there were other chicken dishes. Nelson was very critical of Books First and their slow service – I thought he exaggerated – but he liked the pizza even though it was Mzungu food and the restaurant a Mzungu place. I was the only Mzungu there, but that was because they were all asleep. The waitress handed me the bill before I had asked for it, so I suppose skin colour goes before sex when paying.

Nyamera

<b>Day 11</b>

I had bought drinking yoghurt for breakfast for the last time; it had curdled and I threw it away. The reason was probably the much warmer than normal weather. I had some baby bananas though.

It was time to visit the newly renovated National Museum. I hadn’t been there since 2004. In 2005 I was going to the museum the last afternoon, but instead I ended up at the police station with a high fever; in 2006 I couldn’t go to Kenya and in 2007 they were still renovating. I think they started the renovation in 2005. I walked up Harry Thuku Road, past the Norfolk that also was being renovated. At the curio stalls next to the Boulevard Hotel a woman forced me to have a look at the curios and I bought two pairs of earrings. I didn’t see John - a seller I met in 2003 and 2004. I thought I could take a shortcut through the Boulevard and asked the askari if I could have a look at the hotel. There was a big garden with a swimming pool, but I couldn’t find an exit to the other side, so I returned to where I had entered. I had to pass through the “dangerous” corner between Uhuru Highway and the Nairobi River. I don’t know why it’s dangerous, but everybody says it is. There was an army vehicle with ten or so armed soldiers. Could it really be that dangerous, or did they just happen to be there? From the bridge I saw an elderly man standing stark naked in the stream. The new gate and entrance of the museum looked much more colourful than the old one, but now, having the new version in my head, it’s difficult to remember the old one.

The entrance fee for non-residents had been raised considerably from 200 shillings to 800. The area with the ticket and information desk looked very modern and shiny and there were some very clean toilets. There was a hall with a collection of gourds, new black’n’white photos of Kenya by some foreign photographer and some other items. Then I had a look at a gallery about the history of the museum, before proceeding to the human origins gallery that had many changes. There was a dimly lit room behind a closed door where the original human fossils were. You could see some of it as there was a glass, but you needed to get a special ticket to enter. Now I wondered if I’d seen the original fossils during my previous visits. I’d felt so sad for the Turkana Boy (Homo erectus), but maybe I’d been cheated, crying at an empty grave. Though the chance that he was still alive seemed slim. The mammals were fortunately the same dusty old stuffed ones arranged in a more attractive way – it wouldn’t be nice to kill new animals to exhibit them at the museum. There were no stuffed topis. I think the birds used to be on the upper floor, but now they had moved down to the ground floor. Many still had their old typed species plaques. If it weren’t for the new price, it would be worth returning to the museum several times just to learn birds.

On the upper floor there was a big collection of traditional artefacts and Joy Adamson’s portraits, an exhibition of photos from Mexico and an African rock art exhibition. There was a lot of building going on, so there will probably be more exhibitions. The museum looked more modern, but it was still a real museum with dusty old exhibits instead of interactive beeping things.

While looking at a picture of a group of elders drinking beer through straws from a communal pot, a boy - probably in his 20s - commented that it looked unhygienic. I’ve seen a lot worse, but couldn’t think of any examples, and didn’t know what to say. We continued viewing artefacts and after a while he told me that I was very beautiful. That was interesting and I was going to find out what I’d managed to hide and how, when I remembered that he meant that I looked rich. I jumped the Mexico exhibition, lost sight of the boy and went straight to the rock art that was extremely interesting.

Somehow I drifted into the gift shop where they had the jewellery that I’d seen at Banana Box, but in a wider selection and at slightly lower prices. There was a new coffee lounge place called Savannah. As it was lunchtime, I had a sandwich, but regretted not having chosen a Greek salad instead. The boy who thought I looked rich appeared, sat down at a table and had an ice cream. Next to Savannah there was building work going on and it looked like there would be another restaurant. Earlier there had only been the university cafeteria. I returned to the gift shop, but decided definitely that I didn’t need any jewellery and then I left the museum. The boy was sitting next to the car park and I said goodbye to him. He got up and followed me saying that he’d thought I’d have a vehicle. How disappointing that must have been. Anyway he wanted us to have a coffee, but I said I had things to do. The boy thought we would meet again, but we didn’t. He irritated me because he reminded me of myself. Though he at least was young and cute and acted on his plans, unlike others. I hope he wasn’t the son of the owner of some small, unfenced safari camp. I never thought of visiting the snake park. The reptiles there looked quite sad when I was there on my first trip to Kenya and I don’t think it has been renovated.

Back at the Terminal I was recommended to take a matatu to Naivasha, but I wanted a big bus. I didn’t think it would be a good idea to press my big heavy bag into a matatu; it would even be a bit rude.

Nyamera

<b>Day 12</b>

I was up early and insisted on taking a BIG bus even though there were matatus just around the corner. I got into a taxi that would take me to a bus leaving for Naivasha, like Jolly Coach that had been mentioned by Kamara. The driver found a Jolly Coach next to their ticket office in the River Road area. If it weren’t for my heavy bag, I could have walked there. The ticket was only 100 shillings. After having left my bag in the luggage compartment, I got on the bus that was big, but a bit old with cracked seats. Departure would be in 45 minutes and I looked at luggage being hauled up on the roof with ropes while listening to Dolly Parton. The choice of music made me think that Jolly Coach was a Kikuyu company. The bus filled up with people and a preacher shouted a sermon in Swahili for 15 minutes or so.

Then we were on our way – the wait had been closer to one and a half hour than 45 minutes. There were commercial Rift Valley viewpoints on the new highway as well, though higher and further away. On the radio there was a Swahili talk programme until when we were almost in Naivasha and it was switched to a Kikuyu talk programme. I’m almost sure it was Kikuyu and that they were talking about dandruff. We arrived in Naivasha Town and I took two steps in the light brown dust and could no longer see what colour my shoes were. Another passenger, Mohamed from Malindi, kindly offered to help me with my small bag. There were matatus some 10 metres away, but my bag was so heavy and my feet so dusty that I got into a taxi when the driver told me the price was 900 shillings and not the 1500 that I’ve been informed by Fisherman’s and soon we were driving down Moi South Road. As I’ve heard so much about a dying over fished lake surrounded by flower farms and people living in squalor, it actually didn’t look that bad – otherwise I might have been appalled. There were some zebras and there was a Red Cross IDP camp. The IDP camp looked empty though. We descended to Fisherman’s Camp, the bar was lifted and I was dropped off at the office.

There was nobody at the office, so I went to the rather nice raised open-sided restaurant where Priscilla gave me the key to banda number 11 and pointed out the direction. Priscilla and the rest of the restaurant staff were wearing T-shirts with “Hard Rock Caf&eacute; Baghdad closed for renovation” on the front, and “Fisherman’s Camp is open” on the back. The banda was at some distance from the restaurant and after having picked up my bag, the walk was very slow, but fortunately Tobis, who was working with water activities, came and took the bag. A white middle-aged woman appeared when we got to the banda. She asked me if I was OK and then Tobis took off without having got a tip and the white woman disappeared while I stopped him. Later I was told that she was the boss and she sometimes hanged around the restaurant, but I never talked with her. Some people who asked the waiters about her husband were told that he was in Iraq.

The banda was quite big with a very big bathroom, concrete floor, lots of insects, but no cockroaches- though maybe there are some now as one came as a stowaway in my necessaire - and papyrus walls. Outside there was a fireplace surrounded by some log seats. There was a sign with written rules on the wall, mostly regarding noise, but as I hadn’t planned making any noise, I don’t remember what it said. I had thought I’d be able to cook, but cooking appliances had to be rented for 500 shilling and then I’d have needed firewood, so instead I ended up spending a lot of money at the restaurant. Fisherman’s had green grass and the road going through the camp was only dusty in some parts. For some reason there were some heaps of dust placed on the lawn, but they could be avoided at daytime. There were tall yellow-barked acacias and a very papyrus fronted lakeview. I immediately saw some robin chats and then there were hoopoes, superb starlings, rollers, lovebirds, cattle egrets, ibises and many other birds. I went down to the jetty to have a look. There were pelicans, cormorants and egrets. The fish eagles’ screams were heard all the time at Fisherman’s and the eagles were often seen as well. Some 100 metres away along the papyrus a dozen or so hippo eyes and ears could be sighted above the water surface. I tried to photograph pied kingfishers hovering in the air, but I was never successful. At the huge campsite there were two overland trucks and a couple of smaller vehicles with tents.

At the restaurant I had a dish with a tasty sounding name that I don’t remember, but it was too much white rice and green peas. High in a fever tree above me there were relaxed looking colobus monkeys. Fisherman’s also had vervet monkeys and a pair of dikdiks. After lunch I went for a walk to a shopping centre some 500 metres away. On maps it’s called Sulmac Dukas, but everybody just said “the village”. I had had some apprehensions about Lake Naivasha as it already before the troubles had a reputation for violent crime. Though I didn’t see any dangerous looking people at all. There was a good tarmac road to the village and then between the shops I reencountered the dust that could be put in small expensive looking containers and sold as eye shadow. A boy, 10 years old or so, shouted, “Give me your watch!” to me. He had a small camouflage coloured backpack that I would have needed for excursions in the Naivasha area, so I said, “Give me your backpack!”. He just ran away screaming, “Not my backpack!” I don’t think any grown up people noticed. Nobody looked at me. There were just a few small shops, so I went for a walk in the other direction and then I returned to Fisherman’s where I met a young guy called Ofin who guided bicycle trips to Hell’s Gate. I would get completely fried cycling in the sun, even my hands would be burned, so I asked him if it was possible to take a matatu to the gate and then walk. The gate was 2 km from the matatu stop and then I’d have to walk 9km to the gorge. Ofin also did boat trips to Crescent Island and Crater Lake, but as the price was per boat, it’d be expensive for one person.

I returned to the banda and tried to reply to some sms. The delete button didn’t work and I kept pushing it until the phone got switched off, as the on/off button was the same as the delete button. Then it was impossible to switch it on. It was the worst thing that could have happened; I’d have preferred to drop my camera in the lake. I’d miss so many offers for extremely inexpensive safaris and I’d not be able to find a way to stay in Kenya. I went to the restaurant to see if there were any mobile phone wizards. There weren’t any; they thought I should bring the charger, which I did, but I still couldn’t switch the phone on. If I returned at 8 in the morning there would be someone who was good at phones. There was a knee high electric fence some 20 metres from the papyrus and it was switched on at 6.30pm when the hippos came up to graze. Osman, a night askari from Samburu, showed me two hippos that were grazing close to the papyrus in the dark. There was a spotlight in a tree, but they didn’t feel like grazing under it.

Then I had dinner – tomato soup and a mixed salad. It was the best tomato soup I had this trip. I don’t always have tomato soup when in Kenya, there might even be trips when I haven’t had any at all. I think I had tomato soup at least three times at Fisherman’s.

Ofin appeared and said there might be more hippos at Fish Eagle Inn that’s next to Fisherman’s. We went there to have a look. The electric fence at Fish Eagle was very close to the papyrus, so there wasn’t much of a “hippo lawn”. Then we heard an American woman calling, “Hey there. Don’t walk close to the fence. The hippos are very dangerous.” We walked towards her and she said, “Can you see us? Our guide told us that hippos kill people.” I’m writing approximately what she said. Ofin knows the exact words and is probably still impersonating her. When we got closer the American woman saw that Ofin was their guide from Hell’s Gate who had warned them about the hippos. There was a French woman as well and they had come from the Mara with two guides that had gone to town hours ago, and now they didn’t know how to start their campfire. They thought that they needed some small twigs to be glowing red before they could put on the heavier firewood. Ofin lighted the fire and I showed them my pictures from the Mara. The French-American campers were lining up beer bottles in the grass. They were having a party and invited us to some beer. I don’t drink beer and Ofin didn’t really drink anything alcoholic, but he had a beer anyway. It was getting very late and I had to get up early to fix my phone. Some guys appeared on a motorcycle, but they weren’t the guides. Ofin and I left and we heard the French woman scream, “She saw so much and we saw nothing!” and the American repeated the animals that I’d seen. Ofin told me that their guides were just some guys that they had found in the street in Nairobi.

I asked Ofin about the Australian woman who was killed by a hippo in 2005. He had been there. A group of people crossed the fence from Fish Eagle to Fisherman’s. The lights were out at Fisherman’s and they got in the way of an angry hippo. Nobody was hurt except the woman that was killed. They must have thought that the electric fence was at the same level at Fisherman’s as at Fish Eagle. I didn’t ask when the fence was put up. I think I’ve read about some incidents with injured people before the fence.

The banda was cooler than it would have been with canvas walls, but the shower was hot. I worried about my phone.

Nyamera

<b>To Be Continued</b>

annhig

Hi, Ny,

I've got as far as Day 10 - I like your attitude of &quot;tell it like it is&quot;.

i hope that somehow you can fulfill your dreams.

regards, ann

atravelynn

Day 7- I couldn't help but laugh at the woman who screamed when she saw you. I hope you thought it was funny.

This spitting thing is getting out of hand. I have not experienced that from other guides. Have you? Has anyone else?

Dana_M

I agree with Leely, Nyamera. You are too hard on yourself. Way too hard. You might be old, so am I. Remember, though, that the older we get the wiser we become. Most people never even figure out what they want in life. You have. You should allow yourself the credit you deserve for that. Many people who do know what they want never even try to achieve it because they think it will be too difficult. You should definitely pat yourself on the back for that one. Many people who do try to achieve their goals give up after a single disappointment. You definitely need to give yourself a big congratulations for your persistence. I know you will one day have your dream, Nyamera.

atravelynn

Nyamera,

I understand some of your negativity. It is a healthy dose of reality. Lots of people would like to live in Africa, but very few get to. Those that do, often have connections. It is a long shot. But don't make that dose of reality too healthy or it may deter you from actions you can take that just might pay off.

Here are some questions that you don't have to respond to here if you don't want to.

What if you gave staying in Kenya a 3 month shot if that's how long you think you can manage and what are the downsides if you fail to become established in Kenya?...

Would you come home and have to live like a homeless person until you got established again? Or would a friend or family member take you back in?

Would your lack of a nest egg at that point in your life be devastating to you? You could compare to how much nest egg you have now.

Are there tremendous opportunities you would be losing out on by taking off for 3 months?

Are you fearful that if you did not succeed after 3 months, that your dream would die? And if your dream did die, do you fear severe, debilitating depression or do you think you could re-direct yourself or just be satisfied with occasional trips to Africa?

Do you fear for your safety because you would have to stay in an area that is not safe? Then double your expenditure on housing and stay 45 days. It's better than nothing and safety is paramount.

In other words, why not try 3 months or whatever you can afford and try to get hired, what is the worst that can happen?

You might even discover that living in Kenya is so different than visiting that you don't want to stay anyway. Would that crush you or free you?

When you write you are not young, is there an age at which you think you could not try 3 months (or whatever) in Kenya? Go before you reach that age.

The only thing holding you back is a cat. Start searching for a good home for it, which I think you said you have.

I'd plan so the 3 months don't span an election. With the recent election over, that shouldn't be hard.


How about being a maid? Wouldn't rich people over there like a Swedish maid? If you could make some local pastries, that would set you apart from your average maid, I would think.

cary999

Very nicely said Dana. Hear him Nyamera.
regards - tom

pattyroth

I just got back from a weekend away and now have to catch up on your report! My old report is titled: Safari for Photography with Roy. I think you can do a search for it and pick Tanzania for the country and it should pop right up. (of this same forum, of course!)

safarimama

A Swedish maid!!! That is how my grandmother ended up in Chigaco!!!

Nyamera

Thanks, ann, for your kind comments.

Lynn, I think that woman had a very normal reaction.
I haven’t come across spitting guides before. Maybe I should have named the report “Spitting on the Lion Cubs”. Nobody seems to be getting the obvious stupidity anyway.

Dana and Tom, I think you are too kind. Wanting is very easy and I’m still waiting for the wisdom to appear. Persisting without having a clue about what to do could be called stupid.

Lynn, thanks for thinking so many thoughts for me. I’d like to answer your questions in a more discreet thread, but right now I’m in a serious emergency (new teaching job).
Maids in Kenya are treated almost like slaves because they are almost for free.

Pattyroth, I’ll try to find your report this weekend.

Safarimama, your grandmother should have gone to Kenya.

safarimama

I get it; that's the stupidity!!!! of course!!!! my grandmother went to Chicago, married my grandfather there, another Swedish immigrant, depression hit after 5 kids - back to Sweden ... not to Kenya. I was born in Stockholm, looking for my roots in the USA and ending up in Seattle; I should have gone to Kenya!!!! The stupidity!!!
Oh well, I'm leaving in a few hours for Kenya, but not permanently, although it may as well be. I just got back from there less than 3 weeks ago!!!! Now that IS stupid!!!

Alejandra

Safarimama, when do you fly to Kenya, and on what airline?

atravelynn

No hurry on any answers or even on your conclusion. You have an emergency to attend to. Did I read where the emergency will last no more than 2 months, though?

Nyamera

Safarimama, safari njema! I hope you’re not stupid enough to leave Kenya again.

Lynn, there’s a good chance/risk the emergency will last until Christmas.

atravelynn

Day 8

Your luck with leopards in the Mara is astounding. Whatever goes on between Aubrey and me to rustle up the honey badgers, you have going on with the leopards.

My game viewing, no matter how spectacular will always fall a bit short for me from now on. I'll be thinking about how much better it would be with bouncing curls. I'll never be able go get rid of that stupid thought. Hmm, maybe I've found the stupidity.

I'll have to ask for a Kamba dance on my next visit to the Mara.

An emergency until Christmas should help pay for your emergency-recovery trip to Kenya or wherever you choose to go.