Emily Goes to Kenya: I survived 9 hours on Kenya's roadways

In the morning, Moses came to put me on the bus to Kakamega. Even thought the bus station was maybe 30 yards down the sidewalk, I was glad to have him there. I don’t know if it’s because Moses is good with people or if it was because I am white, but he got my bags put onto the bus first and made sure they were safely stored away before I got on. In the same vein, I knew I was over the luggage weight limit that was printed on my ticket, but nobody said anything. Another rule listed on the ticket that I found odd: “Passengers are allowed only one baby.” Other than that, the bus was more or less exactly like a typical Greyhound (or Young bus for all you DCSD readers), only no TV and no air conditioning. It did, however, have the addition of an attendant that walked the aisle to make sure everything was ok, handed out bottled water, and checked everyone for buckled seatbelts.

I had been given very strict instructions by both Peter and Moses to follow while on the bus: Do not accept anything from anybody—ESPECIALLY food or drink, as it could be drugged to make you easier to rob. Do not tell anyone what exactly you are doing here and how long you will be staying. Do not buy anything but bottled water or pre-packaged food at the bus stops, and do so at the bus station, not at any of the local shops. Needless to say, I was a bit nervous when I got on the bus, but nobody so much as looked twice at me. The bus was probably a little over halfway full with women and their eerily well-behaved children. The three little boys across the aisle from me sat crammed in the same seat the whole trip and I never heard a peep out of them. The man next to me said hi and we chatted a little bit over the course of the ride, but he didn’t ask me any specifics. Funny cultural thing—at one point I was sitting with my legs crossed Indian-style in my seat, and he asked me if I was Muslim, because “that is how they sit in the Mosques.” I knew I would be too nervous to get off the bus when we stopped so I just didn’t drink much and snacked on some clif bars.

The ride was long, but not as bad as I expected. In the last couple of years Kenya has improved its roads significantly. I ended up in the back (unlike buses in the US, you are assigned a seat), which I had been told in the guidebooks to avoid because the rough roads make for a very bouncy ride. There were definitely some rough spots, but overall it was fine. Not 20 minutes into the trip, however, we passed a massive wreck involving a matatu (public transport—mostly vans with several rows of seating) and a flatbed truck. Luckily the people involved had already been taken away, but the twisted metal did NOT reassure me much as we began our 9-hour long journey. The ride, however, was pretty uneventful. The scenery was INCREDIBLE—Mountains, valleys, rolling hills, grassland, gazelles (whose meat, according to my neighbor, is very sweet), and ZEBRAS! By the end of it my neck was very sore from staring out the window for 9 hours straight. Just like in Nairobi, the streets near the towns were very busy. This time, however, they were filled with animals as well as people. I can’t count how many herds of goats, cows, and sheep we passed.

When we pulled into Kakamega, one of the biggest towns in Western Kenya (although still tiny by our standards), I had been instructed by Peter to wait inside the bus station for my ride to pick me up, as I stood out a lot as the only white person on the bus. Immediately as I stepped off a man started asking me how I was—oh great here we go, I thought as I shuffled by to get my bags. Turns out he was not just a random—he was my ride! He drove to the other side of town to the Sheywe Guest House, where I am staying now. It is a collection of a couple buildings—a restaurant, a conference hall, two long guest houses, and several gazebos out back where you can take your meal if you like. I paid for a single room but I lucked out and they put me in a double, so I have two beds to spread all my junk out on and my own bathroom. Similar to the Parkside Hotel in Nairobi, the toilet is basically in the shower stall. The water heater works better than Parkside, but it still only gets slightly warm (which, really, is fine since it doesn’t get too cold in my room). I am here for a few days because Peter thinks I need to get acclimated a little before I meet the people in Shikokho. He makes an excellent point—“You need to get used to the fact that you are in Africa before you try to get used to people in the village.”

So far I’m loving it. The weather is beautiful—only in the middle of the day is it too warm in my room—and I love the sounds that come through my window. There is a small farm maybe a couple hundred yards away, and I wake up to the sound of the cow mooing and the rooster crowing. While eating at the hotel restaurant once I was startled by a herd of cows and goats being driven right through the guest house property. I like the close proximity of the farm animals here; in the US it’s too easy to forget where your food comes from. Here, I see it walk by as I eat my lunch! Another thing about animals here—Africa does NOT mess around with its birds. The first thing I noticed is that there are hawks everywhere. The hawk is like the African version of the crow. They are big, too. Also, in Nairobi over the trees I saw what can only be described as a dinosaur. Seriously, it was massive and looked like a pterodactyl, but as Moses’s only response to my startled question was “bird,” I still have no idea what it was.

The staff here is very nice and welcoming, which has meant a lot to me. On Saturday my new friend Nancy, who is about my age and a waitress in the restaurant, took me into town after her shift. She waited as I got money out of the ATM, then walked me to the far side of town to Tusky’s which is kind of like a scaled down version of a Wal-Mart or a Super Target. Downstairs they have groceries, including a bakery and meat counter, and toiletries. Upstairs they have clothing, electronics, bikes, furniture, and home appliances. Walking in, you would have no idea you were in the Third World. Apart from the fact that the food was a little different (the milk comes in bags!) and the presence of employees stationed at the end of every aisle, I easily could’ve been home in Georgia. After I picked up an outlet adaptor, Nancy led me around to five different Safaricom vendors to “top up,” or load more credit onto my phone. I wanted to load 2,000 shillings, but since most Kenyans only load 50 or 100 at a time, it took us a while to find a place that had scratch cards for 1,000 Ksh. Thank goodness Nancy was there with me (and did all the talking), because I would have been completely overwhelmed. As it was New Year’s Eve, the streets were incredibly crowded and chaotic. Music was playing all day long in the park in the center of town, and Nancy told me they were singing church songs. Church plays a big role here on New Year’s. Nancy’s only plans for that night were to go to church, and the TV in the restaurant that night kept showing previews for a Christian program that would be playing all New Year’s Day to help “usher in 2012 right.”

I also met Peter on Saturday morning. He called me while I was still in bed and told me to meet him at the front gate (he was in town for a funeral and swung by to say hello). He works for the Foundation for Sustainable Development, and so is used to having Americans come visit Kakamega/Shikokho. He said when his interns first get here he pays attention to their eyes—the more wide-eyed you are, the less comfortable you feel. So he says to me, “I can tell by your eyes that you are very relaxed here.” Um, actually, I’m just asleep.

My room at Sheywe Guest House, Kakamega