The proverbial handwriting was on the airport wall. The night of my arrival in Nairobi Kenyatta Airport was (or could have been) a signal to my 15 hour sleep deprived brain that the mundane was going to be in stiff competition with the mission. The mission – start up my one-year pilot project on the teaching of thoughtful reading and writing in an under- sourced rural community.
Guest house
And so it has been. Retrieving my two large and one medium sized suitcases banded in bright colors for easy identification, was the first flag. Hopeful watching of the “It’s a Small World After All” ride of packaged humanity was futile. Unfortunately, that was not known to me until 3:30 AM, 3 hours after our 3 hour late arrival.
After a few hours sleep at our old friend, The Sarova Stanely Hotel in the heart of Nairobi’s business district, we were in the lobby giving elated, 2 cheek air kisses to Chief Joseph, wife Cecilia and in short time, Joseph Nderitu, the young man Howard and I are sponsoring for a diploma in Hotel Management and Hospitality from a Nairobi college.
Not long after we packed ourselves into the hired car Chief Joseph came in, we were on our way to his village in Maasailand. (Young Joseph would join us on the following Wed.) On the the trip from urban Nairobi to the rural you pass intermittent roadside stretches of furniture and other wares for sale. About 20 minutes into our trip, Imperative Kswahili instructions were followed by an abrupt pull over. Chief Joseph, dressed for NY creds but for the red plaid wrap draped over his shoulder, left the van and returned some minutes later bearing a hospitality gift for his visitors – a brand new shellacked, wooden commode!
Entrance to yard from road
Cattle are highly valued Maasai property. Not on the menu.
At first he wedged the gleaming wooden box with the flip top between Cecilia and the baggage in the rear of the van but the road was bumpy (didn’t know how bumpy till we left the paved part of thetrip) so after the third time I nagged about the potential injuries to Cecilia, Chief Joseph repositioned the piece between his own knees where it stayed for the hour or so it took to reach our new home away from home.
The Guest House met our eyes with a combination of relief and wonder. During the last 40 minutes of our trip from Nairobi, the road turned downright nasty. Joseph explained that the government started making a road into the interior of Maasailand but then decided they had done enough. They did return to remove some of the major rocks but what remained can only be good news for Good Year and Toyota. Tires and suspension parts have about a 6 month life span on that terrain. The locals traveled either by foot or motor scooter. When it rains, and when it rains it dumps water, the gullies we passed fill to over flowing and the roads are impassible.
 Christine bringing water. |
 Most of the cooking was done in the hut outside the guest house |
 The pit latrines |
So much for the relief we (our backs particularly) felt when we arrived. You can imagine the wonder of seeing a large western structure standing out on the otherwise vast, flat, parched land. Anything else of a vertical nature would be cows, Maasai people walking, small tin-roofed dwellings and the ubiquitous Acacia trees. (Having never seen one really up close and perhaps not in the dry season when they are without any folliage, I never knew that they all thorns.) I am sure we were all thinking the same thing as we spotted a large house off in the distance, OK this will be a piece of cake!
We soldiered on for 2 weeks at the guest house. Intermittent solar light, no running water, no success with the use of thumb drive modems for WiFi connections, and really tight sleeping space (Michelle and I shared a bunk bed and a closet- well part of a closet) required full-time logistics planning and management.
The curtained house entrance
Chi (tea with milk and some spice) is served to the family and guests in the living room.
I developed a deep understanding for the part our surroundings play in our sense of groundedness and well-being. When nothing can be taken for granted – not brushing your teeth and washing your face, not flushing the toilet (we did have a toilet in the house but flushing required asking a lovely young woman named Christine to lug a very large bucket of water from the cistern outside) and not having any food item that requires refrigeration.
Once the opening Saturday meeting and lunch was done and the week of workshops for the teachers was over, Michelle, Joe and I realized the impossibility of getting any of the communications work done while living at the Guest House. In order to get connected we had to get to Ngong where there are internet cafes. The car trip was arduous and the cost, round trip – $60. Nobody was cutting us any breaks.
 Living room |
 Entrance to living room |
 Living room |
 Kitchen and Joe |
 Samson’s intrepid Toyota |
My bed
Bathroom
A dear woman who I met in Nairobi in 2010, owns a car service business. I called Maggy and told her we needed to find lodging. Despite all good intentions, our next move was something out of “The Griswalds Family Vacation” minus the vacation and the humor. This Guest House also looked good enough from the outside, we arrived baggage in tow feeling kind of desperate and dirty. We were envisioning the hot shower, the flushing toilet, comfortable beds, refrigeration, a mirror, a closet or a hook perhaps… and internet.
Well we did get internet. At the end of night 2 Michelle was checking Airbnb and came up with a great find. So now I am in a very reasonable rental house in Karen. (Many nice houses behind gates in Karen.) Two shopping malls within 5 to 10 minutes. House help on the premises. And I for one, have no illusions about the distinction between wanting to share what I know with people who want to know it with going Peace Corps. I signed on for the former.