The trip home - Parts 1 and 2

The trip home: Part 1 – Bus Ride

December 19, 5:00am: Lesson #1: Don’t trust African public bus schedules. A bus that may say it’s leaving at 6am could actually leave at 5am. And so it goes. Interestingly enough, we had planned to be at the bus by about 5am because we were attempting to transport my bags, Crystal’s “house” (aka like everything she owns packed into several giant duffels), a computer monitor, and 4 large boxes filled with our research and surveys. So at 4:45am, Isaac the driver picked us up, and we said our good-byes to Jake and Evans (the gate guard). A few minutes later we pulled out of the bumpy dirt road from Mohochi land, where the Nuru house is located – just in time to see the Nyamira Express bus whiz by. Isaac swiveled around, yelling “it’s ok my friends! We will get it!”, and TOOK OFF. What ensued: A high speed chase down the road, Isaac versus Bus, Isaac flashing his lights and honking his horn and swerving around any cars in his path… all the while, me yelling “Isaac stop! I think maybe there’s a 6am bus too!” (But what did I know.) Result: Isaac successfully flagged down the bus (amazingly, without any harm to anyone), got it to stop and load on our million pounds of boxes and bags, and we were on our way to Nairobi.

6:00am: The bus stops in Migori (the next town over from isibania). No biggie, considering the bus was supposed to stop in Migori. We wait. We wait some more. About 15 min into waiting, a Kenyan guy comes up to us and says something in Swahili that includes the question “passports?” We look at each other with concern. Julius jumps up immediately and runs out to check to see if the luggage is ok. (Lesson #2: Luggage in the lower compartment of an African public bus is NOT secure.) What ensues: A police blockade, checking the bus for contraband. Our duct-taped, twine-tied boxes of surveys look totally suspicious. The police make us open one. Luckily Julius picks the one WITHOUT the computer monitor, which I am SURE they would have come up with some reason for us to part with. We pass inspection. The bus starts up again, about an hour later. We fall asleep.

8:00am: The bus stops in Kisii (another town). A preacher boards. Preacher begins to preach at the TOP of his lungs (and he’s got a good set of lungs) in crazed-sounding didactic Swhaili. I recognize brief interspersions of English words such as “Christ”, “apostles”, “damnation”. People begin to give money to the preacher. He doesn’t stop. Crystal yells out a big “Amen!” – hoping that he’ll get the message. He doesn’t stop. I think his volume increases. Crystal and I plug our ears with our fingers – that’s how loud he is – it’s almost painful. 8:45am – he stops and takes a seat.

10:00am: The bus stops again. This time I don’t know where we are because it’s an unplanned stop. Kisii was supposed to be the last one before Nairobi – but again, schedules don’t mean much. A man with live chickens boards. The chickens go chill in the back of the bus. A large, made-up Kenyan woman boards with a big cloth bag. She does not take a seat – but rather, takes the preacher’s place in the aisle and starts screaming something. I recognize brief interspersions of English words such as “7 days”, “2 months”, “sick”. I discover she is selling herbal / traditional healer medicines to our bus. A TON of people buy from her. She keeps ranting about the benefits for some time, drawing in other buyers. I plug my ears again.

12:00pm: We arrive at the Nairobi bus depot (basically just a large parking lot located adjacent to a really disgusting and rancid trash pile). The bus is promptly swarmed by prospective drivers and baggage hands (likely many of whom are living on the street and trying to make a few shillings by carrying your luggage out of the fray). I am the first one of our group off the bus, and try to push my way in towards the luggage compartment – I want to be right there the minute they open the door, to make sure that nobody else grabs our stuff. I am totally surrounded by a mob of people… “mzungu, is this your bag?” “mzungu, I help you!” It’s a no-win situation. If you ignore them, they become insolent. If you so much as turn your head or say one word towards them, they take it as a sign of encouragement. Crystal and Julius get off the bus and the crowd moves to engulf Crystal as well. The police come to break up the frenzy. Another bus tries to get through the microscopic space between our bus and another, and the crowd is forced to part. We seize the opportunity and squeeze between the buses, out of the madness. We wait by the trash pile for the taxi that Julius has called. The smell is so rancid that I gag a few times and almost hurl. It’s the grossest trash I’ve ever ever smelled. The taxi finally comes and someone with seeming authority tells us that he can’t pull in beside the trash pile (right, b/c it’s really coveted real estate??). Julius slips him some cash and all of a sudden it’s a free parking zone. We jump into the cab and are on our way, Part I of our journey home completed safe and sound.

The trip home: Part 2 – Planes

December 20, 3:00pm: I’ve spent the morning touring around Nairobi with my fabulous driver Michael. He’s driving me back to Mama Chacha’s hosue (where I’ve spent the night) and all of a sudden a huge wave of nausea washes over me. I’d been feeling a little weird all day, in fact. My flight isn’t supposed to leave until 10pm, but I’d been planning to go to the airport early to meet up with Jake for some drinks and conversation at the airport bar. I decide to take a nap first and hopefully my stomach will settle. I tell Michael to come back at 6pm because I want to get a move on before dark, anyways.

5:00pm: I wake up from my nap. I’m so dizzy that I can barely stand up to finish packing my things. I crawl around on the muddy floor of my room, stuffing clothes and packages into whatever bag they’ll fit in. I have chills – it’s like 75 degrees and I’m wearing my Patagonia jacket and shivering.

6:00pm: Michael comes back to take me to the airport. Julius decides to accompany me to the airport – I think to make sure I don’t pass out in Michael’s car. I insist they stop at the neighborhood chemist, where I stumble in and purchase several antibiotics for which, were we in the US, I’d need to get a prescription. It costs me a ridiculous amount of money because I refuse the African generics and opt for the boxes that have names I know. Once back in the car, I pop one and close my eyes for the remainder of the ride. I can sense Julius looking back at me with concern.

6:20pm: We arrive at the airport. There’s some unknown roadblock and Michael can’t get me all the way up to the KLM departures entrance. Julius runs ahead and gets me a luggage cart, for which I was really grateful. I pay Michael, hug Julius good-bye, and walk about 5 meters before I’m forced by the man at a checkpoint to leave the luggage cart behind. I haul my bags onto my back and make my way to the check-in desk.

6:30pm: There’s nobody in line because KLM only has one flight – mine – which isn’t leaving until ten. The woman behind the counter starts checking me in, and all of a sudden the system freezes. “We are locked out”, she explains. “Amsterdam has shut us out of the check-in system. Anyways, you are later, you know.” “Yes”, I answer. “I know we’re not leaving until ten.” “No”, she replies. “There is bad weather. You are leaving now at 3:30am. And Amsterdam has stopped letting us check people in right now. But do not worry, the system could come back any minute.”

6:45pm: System still locked out. My whole body is aching and I am having trouble standing at the counter. I ask the woman if she would be OK with my sitting on the baggage belt next to her counter, and drop down on it before she can even respond. Three or four more people arrive for the flight and line up behind me.

7:15pm: Line building a little more. System still locked out. Still sitting on the baggage belt. Try eating a piece of a protein bar and my stomach churns.

7:30pm: System comes back up and the woman motions to me. I realize I’m going to miss my connection in Amsterdam and ask her if she can rebook me on a later flight to Boston. She says no; she’ll just check me to AMS and I’ll deal with it there. I balk at this and call over her manager. The system locks out again and all arguments are off. I return to the baggage belt.

8:00pm: A good looking Kenyan guy dressed in those cool branded sweats that probably cost way more than my designer jeans asks me if he can weigh his bags. I glare at him and ask if he can please make it quick. Guilt washes over me, slightly stronger than the nausea, and I mumble, “Sorry. I don’t own the baggage belt. I’m just not feeling well and I need to sit.”

8:05pm: Turns out the guy is really nice, and distracts me from the wait for a few. His name is Osseyou, and he’s in real estate in Portland. I commiserate about the state of the market, and hope for his sake that commercial doesn’t continue to tank. We chat about Nairobi, where his family is from.

8:30pm: The line is REALLY long now. Hundreds of people, most of whom thought the flight was leaving at ten. None of whom can check in. Since the airline staff don’t speak great English and aren’t doing a great job of explaining what’s going on, many come up to ask the girl lying on the baggage belt why the line isn’t moving. I gaze up at them and act as polite and informative as possible. We are all hoping that the system has locked out because they’re working on rebooking us all.

8:45pm: Airline staff come around with handouts -- a printed explanation of the state of the flight. I wonder why they can’t just get someone to make an announcement over a loudspeaker. Even a megaphone. Or find that preacher from the bus – everyone would surely be able to hear HIM.

9:00pm: System opens up. I haven’t been rebooked on anything. I allow them to check me only to AMS – knowing full well the problems I’m setting myself up for. I accept my single boarding pass and walk to the immigration desk. Kenyan guy behind the counter waves a blue piece of paper in my face and asks me where mine is. I have forgotten to fill out the exit VISA form – but in my daze I have no clue what he’s talking about. He seems to decide I’m too confused to be worth his time, and waves me through illegally. I later wonder if Kenya knows I’ve left the country, and if it even matters.

9:10 – 10:00pm: I wander around the airport looking for Jake. I become totally exhausted.

10:00pm: I decide I want to go into the British Airways Executive Lounge and wonder if my Platinum AMEX will gain me admission even though I’m not actually flying BA. I thoroughly confuse the girl behind the counter who has never heard of AMEX and she calls over her colleague, a young Kenyan guy who decides to let me in – not because of my AMEX, I’m sure, but either because he thinks I’m cute or he’s expecting me to pay him off. I don’t care the reason. I go inside, drink a glass of OJ which upsets my stomach, and fall asleep on a really fabulous couch.

11:00pm: Lounge guy wakes me up and tells me I can stay until midnight, when he’s closing. He also tells me some garbage about people paying $20/mo to use the lounge. I tell him I pay $450 for my Platinum AMEX which allows me to access airline lounges whenever I want, and that he was supposed to let me in anyways. I close my eyes, signaling an end to the discussion which I sense was going in the direction of me giving him $20.

11:55pm: I wake up, use the bathroom, and begin to leave. Lounge guy tries to convince me to stick around for a drink with him and his friends, who’d begun diving into the champagne the minute all the “legit” passengers left. I decline and make a quick exit.

12:10am: I finally find Jake in the Java House. Thus proceeds the kind of conversation that two people who don’t know each other too well can usually only have either late night or after a few cocktails. Jake is an extremely thoughtful and insightful human being and I am quite happy to have gained his respect and gotten the chance to see into the wonderful Nuru world he’s created.

1:30am: Announcement over the loudspeaker that it’s time for our flight to line up and start proceeding through screening into the holding pen – that stupid water-less, bathroom-less room that airports with poor initial security screens send you into before you can get on the plane, signaling to the US or EU that they’ve gone through the desired security proceedings at least for that subset of passengers heading to the western world.

2:00am: While standing in line, I realize I’m about to totally lose it. I throw my bag at Jake and make a dash for the bathroom. I’m pleasantly surprised by the cleanliness of the Nairobi airport bathrooms – compared to India and Rwanda, they’re like being at your own home toilet. I have no time to consider that though, as I promptly lose all the contents of my stomach. UGH.

2:00 – 4:00am: Blur. Go through security. Fall asleep sitting up in holding pen. Get on plane. Take several Nyquil. And thus, good-bye to Kenya.