Road to Nairobi
Trip Start
Sep 01, 2005
1
27
72
Trip End
Ongoing
Nairobi,
Kenya
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
We found the truck that we had arranged a lift with. All six tires looked new. The spare has steel belting showing. The back was loaded with bags of beans and about 10 people. On the passenger door was clearly printed "Driver strictly instructed not to carry passengers or goods." We climbed in and greeted the girl and child in the rear space of the cabin.
We waited for an hour making faces with, and taking photos of a group of boys that has gathered outside our door. I made all of them jump, and a couple of adults, with the old flipped eyelid trick
camels
. I hadn't used that one in a while, and I hope that they don't copy it. Around 10 we rolled out of town and off the asphalt. We had read that it was a dusty road and that the asphalt didn't start again for a long while. Our driver told us that we would be driving straight through to Nairobi. It would be one very long day instead of 3 semi-long ones, which sounded great to us.The land was dry like a leather glove. Like a saddle in Arizona. Like a rope in Texas. Wispy bushes with scarce leaves and stringy cacti gave texture to the dust. An hour into the trip we stopped at a check point and picked up a few more people. A woman came in the cab and joined the two in the back. We passed several herds of camels, a couple of peacocks in the bushes, and a troupe of scurrying baboons. The road was bad but no worse than the many rough roads through Central America or Southeast Asia that I had seen. At top speeds we traveled between 40 and 50kph. Three hours into the drive the convoy stopped. We all waited as a truck changed a flat tire. When we first started I thought to myself, "There is no way that we are making it through this without a flat tire."
Trails led off the road into the bush, but we saw no villages in between the few outposts. At the first town, some dozen single room mud huts, we stopped for lunch. Erin and I sat under an overhang in the shade eating peanut butter sandwiches that we had packed
the crew
. A goat stood on its hind legs to nibble at the few leaves left on a thorny tree.There were four soldiers on board. Each was well over six feet tall, clad in green camouflage, as dark as ebony and armed with machine guns. They were definitely the sort of person that you wanted on your side in a fight. Three of them walked up to us. The commander took off his beret and in a James Earl Jones booming voice said "It is very beautiful that you choose to travel with us. This way you can see our natural beauty," he made a sweeping motion towards the parched expanse with his arm, "and know that Kenya is a safe country. You are very welcome here. In Kenya we love democracy and we wish you a safe journey." His words were reassuring. I was hoping that they had plenty of ammunition.
The following many hours are blurred in a dry bumpy haze. The driver told us that it had not rained in that area for two years and that the people were suffering. We stopped for a man on the side of the road. He had two women and a semiautomatic rifle with him. I think that the extra firepower got them all on. We passed a group of dwellings made of thin branches curved into a dome and covered with pieces of scrap plastic. Later in the trip we saw similar huts that were broken down and packed on donkeys. Nomadic people with homes of patchwork refuse.
truck
At the fourth check point our guards got off and waved goodbye. I hoped that we were out of bandit country. We pulled into a tiny frontier town that had two stores and a five room hotel. Above the buildings a stark desert stretched to the horizon. We waited almost two hours as the truck crew removed the inner rear wheel, pulled the tire from the rim and patched the tube. Several people lied in the shady dirt under the truck. That was the last that we saw of the convoy. From that point on, I guessed that it was every truck for itself.We left the town and started into the desert. There seemed to be no life there. It had been four years with out rain and there was no evidence of water anywhere. On the horizon we could see the mound of an ancient volcano. The ground was strewn with large pieces of pumice stone. The road was covered with the jagged volcanic rock as well. It disappeared into a mirage on the horizon. We would be driving for a while.
Not long after we left the town we heard a small explosion followed by escaping air. The driver looked in his side rear view mirror and cussed. We rolled to a stop and everyone got off. The driver's side tire, a new one with thick tread, had punctured. The serrated stones were everywhere, a road of steak knives cutting at every wheel. It had only been a matter of time until we got a flat.
Erin and I picked up a few stones and began juggling to pass the time as the crew got out the tools and began to change the tire. The other passengers watched us smiling. Growing up for a part of my life on a farm in Texas, throwing rocks at things had always been good entertainment. We pointed out a few targets and everyone joined in the simple fun.
An hour later we were moving at a snails pace. We were riding on the only fragile spare that we had. If we got another puncture we would be stuck truly in the middle of nowhere until either the next convoy or a group of murderous Somalian bandits came through. Villages had been slaughtered for a couple of donkeys and a few shillings. The driver slowly weaved along the road, but it was impossible to avoid the sharp stones that were thrown like shrapnel as far as the eye could see. Tensely we creped forward, clenching our fists and grinding our teeth. All of our eyes were on the road looking for the next rock that would end our progress and leave us stranded. A few times I closed my eyes after seeing a stone that we couldn't avoid and thinking that that would be the one.
By dusk we saw the top of a mountain on the horizon. The driver told us that the next town was up in the hills. The temperature gauge was perpetually red lining. Every 45 minutes we stopped to add water to the radiator.
For most of the drive the scenery was devoid of life. It looked like the surface of Mars. No water, no chance for rain. Old creek beds were mere depression of dirt in the land. Heat waves radiated upwards from the scorched, desiccated land. We saw an ostrich family: one male, one female and several chicks. I couldn't imagine how they survived. We saw the carcass of a lost cow and a jackal eating at it, but until the town that was the only remains of life that we viewed.
Sometime after dark we arrived in Marsabit. It had taken over ten hours. We were tired but happy to continue straight through to Nairobi. The alternative was to stop in the thrown together town and pay for a few hours in a hotel where we probably wouldn't want to undress, shower or touch the mattress. After a quick stop to use the restroom and have a bite to eat we continued through the hilly area.
The baked ground rock and volcanic rock gave way to semiarid hills. The sharp stone on the ground came to an end, but the road became worse. I don't know by what phenomena, but the road had formed many, many ridges creating a wash board surface. For miles it was like driving over speed bumps separated by a few inches. We hadn't picked up a new spare, but the driver sped over the bumps seemingly with out concern.
Through the darkness, past midnight and into the early morning we rattled on. Our legs bounced freely in the air. Our bodies jarred into tenderized meat. To rest my head on the door was like turning it into Forest Gump's ping pong ball. Sitting in the cab was like trying to rest in a dusty rock tumbler. Sleeping on the small seats was truly impossible.
The pain continued for over six hours. First our rear ends got sore, then our legs, then our backs, shoulders and necks. The bones shook themselves compact, then our innards began to hurt. Something under my ribs stung. Something in Erin's side burned. One calf cramped and a kidney ached. The driver moved at a good click, as fast as we had driven on the ride. I couldn't tell if he was trying to make up time or if he just didn't care anymore if we spent the night and day waiting on a new tire. At least there were trees to wait under so that we wouldn't end up like that lost cow.
Erin's knowledge of Swahili started coming into use. The Kenyans said that the Tanzanians speak with a corrupted Swahili, but that hers was quite good. Being able to communicate with some sort of depth adds so much indispensable interaction. At the rest stops, with the rest of the passengers, we could talk about where we had been, we could ask questions about where they were going, we could joke about how slow and painful the ride was. None were too happy with the driver. Many were surprised and impressed that we had come from northern Ethiopia.
Just after dawn we reached Isiolo and the tarmac. We stopped to stretch. In the cab I had thought that in the back where one could lie on the sacks of beans, it would have been more comfortable. However, everyone climbing out was covered in red dust. Black pants had turned brown. Blue shirts had turned grayish purple. No one had a white piece of clothing. Hair, heads and limbs were covered with dust like old almanacs coming out of an attic. One guy said while shaking out his jacket "What will people say when they see us? My god, look at those people like animals!" He said that sleeping had not been a problem. He pulled his jacket over his head and zipped it up and fallen asleep. Still, his eyebrows had red dust deep in them. That was the trade off.
It was great to have reached the asphalt, but for unexplained reasons, this is where the driver went the slowest. I took video tape of the speedometer bouncing between 10 and 15 kph. We had a great view of Mt. Kenya for many hours as we drove past it. A tractor passed us going up hill. The land had become fertile again. There were leafy trees and green pastures. We were told that a car could make it from Isiolo to Nairobi in four hours. At hour seven from Isiolo we crossed the Equator. Not even going down hill did we accelerate over 25 kph.
Every 100k or so we were stopped at check points. Police or army would slowly come out, look over the truck, talk with the driver, shake hands and wave us on. 120k out of Nairobi I asked why there were so many stops. He had just shaken hands with an officer and discretely passed on a folded bill. He replied, "Because in Kenya there is too much corruption."
90k from Nairobi and 30 hours after we had left Moyale the driver took a right off the main road and began climbing a hill. He said that we were close, but we had to make a "short delivery." We pulled into a small town and snaked our way through a busy market eventually stopping at a small stand. The driver argued with the stall owner for 25 minutes before we left with out unloading anything. Before we cleared the market though, one of the owner's helpers had chased us down and convinced the driver to turn around. Once again we slowly drove through the market waiting on the donkeys and the crowds of people. Once again we stopped, deboarded and watched an argument begin. This time someone pulled out a seven inch long shiv. Erin said, "OK, that's it. I'm through watching these punks. Let's get out of here." We grabbed our bags, said our goodbyes and headed towards a minibus stand that we had seen by the market entrance.
I stopped my stopwatch at 29:41:32. I had started it in the desert four hours after we had begun in Moyale. We were in a corner room at a busy intersection just outside of downtown Nairobi. A trip like that affects ones senses. Our sensations of time and space had been rattled along with our bones and organs. We were numb.
We had been let out of the bus near the town center. Our guidebook said that 37% of the people in Nairobi had been mugged last year. We scurried the five blocks to our hotel. The receptionist at the budget inn greeted us with "Welcome to Nairobi. You've come to a hell of a place."
We told her that we had just arrived from Ethiopia.
"Well then, you have come from one hell of a place to another. How was your flight?"
"We came over land."
"Oh, what airline did you use?"
"We rode in a truck."
She raised one eyebrow.
"We came in a truck with a lot of beans and 10 other people. We have been traveling for a long time."
She laughed and shook her head.
We spent two nights in the hustle and bustle of Nairobi. We treated ourselves to a nice omelet breakfast that used true cheddar cheese and a tall mug of chai. We got Tanzanian visas, effective malaria medication and wrote letters on the internet. One night we treated ourselves to dinner and a movie. Erin had the vegetable curry. I had a tenderized steak stuffed with ham and cheese. We watched King Kong and at intermission we got sodas. It was indulgent, but after saving the $400 on that ride we felt that we deserved it.
