Downtown Nairobi This is an old posting, unrelated to my CitiNature work, that I transferred from another blog I once started. It's a humorous look at a trip I'd taken around Kenya with a very friendly, but young and inexperienced, local guy.
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One afternoon in downtown Nairobi while getting my dusty shoes shined, I started talking with Gathaku Bernard Gachuiri (Ben, pictured below) who was standing at an adjacent SIM card sales booth. He somehow reminded me very much of my good friend Cleo in New York and being, as he revealed to me, 'an exceptional entreprenuer and skillful networker,' he eagerly took to the idea of befriending me. Ben effuses a nervous energy, animatedly gesticulating and bursting with ideas and stories in his rapid-fire Kenyan English.
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One afternoon in downtown Nairobi while getting my dusty shoes shined, I started talking with Gathaku Bernard Gachuiri (Ben, pictured below) who was standing at an adjacent SIM card sales booth. He somehow reminded me very much of my good friend Cleo in New York and being, as he revealed to me, 'an exceptional entreprenuer and skillful networker,' he eagerly took to the idea of befriending me. Ben effuses a nervous energy, animatedly gesticulating and bursting with ideas and stories in his rapid-fire Kenyan English.
My good buddy, Ben. I finished the shoe-shine, and Ben and I decided to go have a coffee at Java House (a Starbucks-like Kenyan chain which I would never have imagined to find in Africa) on Mama Ngina Street. Learning of my plans to travel around the country a bit, Ben offered his expertise as a tour guide at a reasonable rate and we made a plan to circle around Mt. Kenya (the second highest mountain in Africa, just south of the equator) and then return to Nairobi via the Rift Valley. Ben assured me of his knowledge and expertise, I felt he was a good guy, and I also believed it would be advantageous to go with a local. So with very little planning, the next morning we got on a matatu (a small van crammed full of seats) bound for Nyeri in Kikuyu country in the Kenyan highlands (Ben’s tribe is Kikuyu).
One of our motorcycle taxi drivers. I have yet to explain why I call this posting “Mt. Kenya by Donkey.” Although Ben gave me good company and entertainment on the trip, he also brought exasperation. Ben proudly positioned himself as the “local” well acquainted with the towns and countryside we visited. This knowledge, quite naturally, put him in his preferred leadership position. The moment we would alight from a matatu (or sometimes a motorcycle taxi), Ben would march off determinedly expecting me to follow, not disclosing the destination – which I soon realized he himself had no idea of. I would ask him, ‘Where are we going?’, and his brow would crumple and he would very earnestly say, ‘Trust me.’ My own instincts, it soon became clear, were a much better guide to getting around, and Ben was relegated to a support role. As he had begun calling me a crazy “Mzungu” (white man), and as his only utility at this point was in carrying my backpack, I gave him the nickname “Donkey.” He seemed to like this level of familiarity.
My phone goes into the water... Ben coveted my camera and mobile phone, the trappings of any successful entrepreneur. Carrying them, just for show, even in the middle of the bush, gave him satisfaction. I was a bit worried about him getting too attached, but his temporary possession ended when on a walk through the countryside outside Nyeri he dropped my mobile phone into a stream. He wasn’t making a call. It just slipped out of his pocket. There was nothing to get angry or upset about. I just laughed at the ridiculousness of it all.
Our bush guide. On our second day in Nyeri, we arranged for a bush trek in the Mt. Kenya National Reserve. We hired a bush guide (required), who had a vintage WWII British army rifle to protect us from any unwanted encounters with animals. Although this particular trek was not extremely rewarding in terms of wildlife, we did see a few animals, including cape buffalo, one of the “big five” game animals and among the most dangerous.
In the presence of danger, the leaders of these animals defiantly stand facing the “enemy”, in a kind of stare down, nostrils in the air. Our guide pointed his rifle at the buffalo, in case they charged, and I took a couple of pictures. Ben, for his part, picked up a large stick, pointed it at the animals, and made shaking movements like he was shooting. The largest bull, closest to us, in reaction to Ben’s provocation kicked its huge hind legs into the air (apparently well acquainted with guns), and thankfully retreated into the bush instead of charging, which would not have been unexpected. Ben, unchastened by the near-death experience he’d brought upon us, continued to admire the forbidden fruit of the guide’s rifle. After some time had passed, his pleading paid off, and the guide agreed to let Ben hold the fire arm. He grasped the rifle, and before he could be stopped, pointed it at my head (and at the second trekking guide), pretending to fire.
In the presence of danger, the leaders of these animals defiantly stand facing the “enemy”, in a kind of stare down, nostrils in the air. Our guide pointed his rifle at the buffalo, in case they charged, and I took a couple of pictures. Ben, for his part, picked up a large stick, pointed it at the animals, and made shaking movements like he was shooting. The largest bull, closest to us, in reaction to Ben’s provocation kicked its huge hind legs into the air (apparently well acquainted with guns), and thankfully retreated into the bush instead of charging, which would not have been unexpected. Ben, unchastened by the near-death experience he’d brought upon us, continued to admire the forbidden fruit of the guide’s rifle. After some time had passed, his pleading paid off, and the guide agreed to let Ben hold the fire arm. He grasped the rifle, and before he could be stopped, pointed it at my head (and at the second trekking guide), pretending to fire.
View of Mt. Kenya from a street in Nanyuki. After our trek, we returned to Nyeri for the matatu to Nanyuki, another high country town near Mt. Kenya. The views from our hotel roof to Mt. Kenya were marvelous, and here Ben washed his and my clothes (very nice of him), and hung them to dry in a very Kenyan way, it seems: without using clothes pins, the socks and underwear are kind of knotted over the line so that they don’t fall off in the wind.
A day at the beach along Lake Naivasha We left the high country and came down toward the rift valley, stopping at Nakuru for the night. Nakuru is the scene of the horrible tanker truck accident in February where hundreds of people were terribly burned when they tried to scoop up spilled gasoline and the gasoline ignited. It’s a bit of an unruly town, and we left early the next morning for Lake Naivasha, famous for its hippos. The hippos are hard to see during the day because, for the most part, just the tops of their eyes, noses and ears pop above the water.
Ben on one of our mountain bikes in Hell's Gate National Park Not far from Lake Naivasha lies Hell’s Gate National Park. We hitched a ride on a motorcycle and at the entrance to the park (with a rather foreboding sign warning about the dangers) we found that we could rent mountain bikes. These bikes were in a rather sad state of repair, and the wrong size, but we managed to ride for the nearly 20 kilometers into the center of the canyon.
Me and some zebras The wildlife here was incredibly numerous and diverse, and we were VERY close to it all: giraffes, zebras, warthogs, gazelles, large buzzards, and other animals I’d only seen on tv before.
Being in the park on bicycle or on foot put us very close to the animals and didn’t frighten them away as cars or trucks would. Hell’s Gate has no lions or cape buffalo, so it’s reasonably safe to be riding on the main gravel road.
Being in the park on bicycle or on foot put us very close to the animals and didn’t frighten them away as cars or trucks would. Hell’s Gate has no lions or cape buffalo, so it’s reasonably safe to be riding on the main gravel road.
Some cute kids happily playing on a road in the National Park On the last night of our trip, we arrived at my Nairobi hotel rather late, and Ben asked if he could spend the night (I had a large room with an extra bed). I was very ready for a good night’s sleep, as we’d really had a gruelling (if exhilirating) trip, so I told Ben he could stay, as long as he didn’t wake me early in the morning. He’d had a habit during our trip of pounding on my hotel room door the moment he woke up in the morning, often very early. In any case, I made my wishes clear, and Ben solemnly agreed to let me sleep. However, at around 730 in the morning, I found myself surrounded in bed by cleaning staff of the hotel. Ben had seen them outside the room and told them they could come in and clean around me, but just not to wake me in my bed. It was a perfect ending to the voyage with Ben.
Ben is now working part time in Nairobi, and looking for his big break – which no doubt he will find. The quote he puts under his profile on Facebook is: “A successful person is one who can lay a firm foundation with the bricks that others throw at him or her.”
Ben is now working part time in Nairobi, and looking for his big break – which no doubt he will find. The quote he puts under his profile on Facebook is: “A successful person is one who can lay a firm foundation with the bricks that others throw at him or her.”
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