This rather long story is an account of the week I spent in Northern deserts of Kenya with my good friend Nicholas Lekalaile.
Travel
I've
been on the road for two days now and apparently there's a little
more to come. I decided to travel with Nicholas, our night-watch man
(askari), to his home area in Rendille land far to the north of
Isiolo, the alleged edge of civilisation, to see his family and this
unique area.
Yesterday
we left the clean organised world of Lavington, a wealthy suburb of
Nairobi, and took a matatu to Eastleigh, the major Somali and
generally Northern neighbourhood of Nairobi, to get a bus onwards. In
the squalor of little stalls, dirt roads and Nairobi jam, we sat in
the corner of a depot garage where, rather than finding a bus we
seemed to gather a small concentration of Rendille who were catching
up on the news of jobs or home, although I really don't know because
I can't understand anything of their Cushitic tongue!
Eventually
Niko prised away, mostly due to my persistence I expect, to go find a
vehicle to carry us north. I felt if we didn't go soon I would loose
all my nerve for the epic adventure ahead. We left Eastleigh and set
out on the Thika highway, a 3-lane motorway built by the Chinese,
probably as a part of their bizarre plan to link Lamu with Juba and
making Isiolo a major transit town. Last time I did this route it was
still being built and it took several hours on rutted side roads
instead of this quick glide in the beautiful highlands beyond. The
Kenyan Highlands are like the Garden of Eden. Rich dark red soil
bursts forth every fruit and vegetable one could want and as you
drive through the patchwork of small gardens it is a beautiful sight
to behold. One can understand why some Kikuyus a superiority complex
when you compare this area to their neighbours.
Three
hours later we arrived at Nanyuki, at the foot of Mount Kenya,
straddling the equator. This beautiful colonial town feels like the
last homely house as described in the Hobbit. We drove through the
final stretch of stunning farm land at the base of Mt. Kenya and then
started our descent to the hot dry plains below, a drop so great my
ears popped and my water bottle was crushed with the pressure change.
At the bottom we reached Isiolo, a dusty dirty town full of various
Northern groups complete with Arabs, Borani and Somali all shouting
and spitting in a scene rather reminscent of Tattoine. In a mere 50
miles from Nanyuki to Isiolo we had passed a major boundary, leaving
the green Bantu lands behind and entering the Northern realm of the
nomad.
For
four further hours we drove north seeing very little other than bush
and a stunning sunset behind the Matthew's range as we zoomed along
the pristine new tarmaced road bound for Ethiopia. Finally we arrived
in the place where I now write, a dusty little wild-west trading post
on the road, complete with gin bottles everywhere, but unlike the
wild-west filled with beaded tribes-people. Niko is out on the road
trying to find a bus to take us the on the last short stretch into
the bush to his home.
Dusty travel |
Suprises
Actually there was no bus, we were to get a car and arrive when
possible. There was a Mzungu lady arrive unexpectedly in town, who
Niko said is from Korr. He had said there was a missionary couple in
Korr and evidently here was one of them! I asked nicely if we could
get a ride and she obliged. We piles into the back of the small
pickup with dozens of other people going that way. We stripped across
the desert seeing some ostrich and gazelle on the way until we
reached Korr at last, dusty and hot. On the way I was chatting to a
guy who told me I was lucky because I had managed to get a ride only
1 day after arriving, he had been waiting 5 days for a passage! What
is Niko leading me into?
Korr |
The
real bush
I'm now sitting in the small house of Nicholas' mother. Yesterday we set off for his wife's house in a Gob' about 5 km from town. On the way through Korr we stopped in the general store while Nicholas greeted dozens of people from being away so long. We sat in the shop for a while and eventually he said, “wait here five minutes, I'm going to get shoes”. Half an hour later he returned with no shoes and just the explanation, “too many people!”. He sent his wife who had arrived by this point and sat a while longer. Periodically the shopkeeper grabbed a small packet of tea and sugar and handed them to people coming through the shop. Eventually I realised that Nicholas was buying them for gifts. Now that he was a big man with a job in the South, it is expected that he gives gifts. He ran up a bill of 2000 shillings and completely finished his money, poor guy!
In the shop |
Niko and his beautiful wife |
His wife's Gob' was only a short distance from Korr, but as soon as
we left Korr it felt like the wilderness tribal experience I had
built up in my mind. It was difficult to say what was so enchanting,
maybe the delicate elven faces adorned with so many colours or maybe
the enormity of the desert, but whatever it was it was fascinating
just to sit and watch.
Almost home |
Cooking tea |
A typical Rendille house is a domed bivouac made by bending sticks
and covering them with animal skins, cardboard boxes and anything
else they can find. The roof is 4ft high so can't stand but its
comfortable enough to lie or sit. The doorway makes a short recessed
corridor about 4 ft long meaning the inside has a semicircle space
and two alcoves, one for storage and one for cooking. Cooking inside
is necessary because the harsh desert winds would blow any fire away,
but it makes the homes smoky and hot.
Nicholas spent most of the time telling stories to his numerous friends and family who hadn't seen for 9 months, while I watched or read. In the evening we headed out for a little walk around the area and as we waled across a dried river bed we spotted two Moran about 100ft away. Moran are the warriors of their community from the time they are circumcised during mass circumcision events every 12 years until they marry they must walk throughout the country with livestock finding good grazing and defending their territory. They are richly adorned with beads across their ritually scarred cheasts and wear feathers above their heads. They were rather frightening to behold and a reminder that this is an untamed land.
On the road |
In the morning we set off on the 25km walk to his mum's gob' near a small trading centre called Namerai in the Ndoto mountains. I mostly enjoyed the walk, except towards the last hour when temperatures were well over 30 degrees and I was desperate for water. Arriving we were greeting by the dozens of overjoyed people I was now getting used to. With no phone signal to call ahead and plan, your loved ones just wake up as normal then suddenly you've arrived back it makes for much more jubilant greetings. Nicholas, now well acquainted with my camera and guitar starts showing off his magic tricks and living up to his expectation of being an accomplished man of the world. I let him pretend. Its much more fun watching them gaze lovingly at him as he beats discordantly on my guitar than if I was showing off. Besides its all he's got now his money is finished!
There's no place like home |
Wow, looks like an amazing place. I'm sure Niko loved having you there... probably the first time his coast work life and home life have ever really mixed. I'd love to hear (see) his rendition of the trip... his stories are always so animated:) H
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