Press Pause And Reconnect -Wet Weather And Family Ties-Nairobi

October 6, 2024 Posted in Travel / The Honey Badger Diaries

One common consequence of divorce is that friends, family, and, in some cases, children may feel compelled to take sides, often without fully understanding the situation’s complexities. Suddenly, there is an unspoken pressure to align oneself with one party or another. It’s no secret that the shockwaves caused when two people choose to go their separate ways create ripples in social ponds. Abe Swersky, a very well-known family solicitor, would’ve said, “A good sign the war is on”

We have been very fortunate to have escaped much of the one-upmanship and social aligning and have maintained many exceptional relationships through the years.

Within minutes of posting a thread on Polarsteps, I received a message from a nephew informing me that he was currently living in Nairobi and would like to meet up: “If you have an open slot on your busy social calendar Tannie (Aunty) Marich.”

Hearing that familiar term “tannie” again after so many months made the tears flow. There was someone right here who knew me—a familiar. How small the world is.

We couldn’t be more thrilled and immediately made arrangements to meet up. The Honey Badger would have wheels on within a day or two, and by the weekend, we would be ready to leave.

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Nairobi boasts an Outer Ring Road, a 13-kilometre multi-lane highway. Construction funding was initially provided by the African Development Bank in 2013. Construction delays have been due to increased traffic, which is delaying the completion of the project.

The highway runs primarily along the Eastlands area of Nairobi and connects major transportation hubs, including the Nairobi-Thika Highway, Mombasa Road, and the Jomo Kenyatta International Airport.

In August 2020, Kenya secured a $59 million loan from the South Korean Export-Import Bank to build special lanes for high-capacity buses (bus rapid transit) to expand the road’s carrying capacity.

We occasionally travelled on the outer ring road, paving the way for a smooth, stress-free drive.

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Not only were we going to meet up with a long-lost nephew, but we were also going to celebrate his 43rd birthday.

The Honey Badger was back on her wheels, and shortly afterwards, we were given the thumbs up. We were back on the road again.

Our trip to Leopard Cliff Mansion, or Rolf’s Place, as the lodge is affectionately known in Kajiado, took us off the Ring Road and back through country roads and new neighbourhoods.

I thought nothing could surprise us any more. We’d seen everything in Africa: cattle on the main road, donkeys pulling carts, ladies’ fashions displayed on a rugged clay embankment overlooking a donga (Canal would be pushing it), but, no, there would be many surprises.

The architecture at Rolf’s resembles a medieval fortress or film set clinging onto the side of a cliff. Indigenous trees and shrubs blanket the sheer stone drops into a canyon and river far below, giving the place an air of being forgotten in a tropical Indiana Jones-like jungle.

A suspension bridge is the only way to reach the hotel from the carpark.

Nervously, I stepped onto the first wobbly rung of the rope suspension bridge and hoped this was not my final crusade. Butch was marching across, oblivious to the hazards of a bridge I had serious doubts about, considering maintenance was not a priority in this neck of the woods.

Holding onto a rope, I shuffled along, perspiration dripping into my eyes, sneaking glances at the landscape around me. Fortunately, my passion for recording my trip took hold of me, and I bravely grappled with my fear of heights while gripping my camera in sweaty hands to photograph the magnificent views.

I made it. The manager stifled a giggle and offered us a drink to settle my nerves. I fell into one of the overstuffed upholstered couches and smiled, delighting in my surroundings. I am brave, was the first thought I had.

The manager had difficulty understanding our dilemma, and it wasn’t until he saw the Honey Badger that he succumbed to our request and agreed we could spend two nights in the parking area without facilities.

My imagination was running wild, and I insisted on a level parking space. I was assured that the entrance would do. It was a concrete slab with pillars and gates to the suspension bridge. With the handbrake pulled to the max, we would go nowhere unexpectedly. We were cocooned.

While the chef was preparing our dinner, I relaxed and took in my surroundings.

The panelled Edwardian style, expansive rooms and chandeliers, carved architraves, and slate and wood floors told of a bygone time where the landed gentry displayed hunting trophies, triptychs depicted safaris, and monochrome photographs of polo horses adorned the walls and mantle pieces.

But we were in Nairobi, and those colonial days were long gone. Juxtaposed between history were artfully arranged colourful local art, glass ostrich eggs and amusing sculptures.

I found the stern look of the chef amusing. I wondered whether he’d suggested the expansive menu featuring an eclectic European choice of dishes, including soups, entrees, fish options, main courses and dessert. Guests could indulge in a liqueur or coffee to round off the evening, if memory serves.

We were impressed by the selection offered, but by now, in our travels, we’d learned to be cautiously optimistic. With a notepad and pencil, the enthusiastic manager/waiter jotted down our order. We’d both have the (only) option of grilled peri-peri chicken, potato chips, and a side salad. Perfect, we cried in unison. A beer would be great paired with our spicy chicken and a Stoney Tangawizi for me.

Dinner was a success, and our choice of succulent, perfectly grilled, spicy chicken was spot-on.

We trekked back to the Honey Badger more confidently and enjoyed the view of the imposing building as the lights came on and the sun set. In the distance, we could see lights twinkling on the Nairobi skyline as skyscrapers lit up.

It was mindboggling to think that a vast Nairobi National Park lay between us and the City. The Park is fenced on its northern, eastern and western boundaries to separate the wildlife from the city.

Here in the south, where we were, a natural border was created by the Mbagathi River, which features the riverine forest below us. The south border is opened to the Kitenegela Conservation Area and the Athi-Kapiti plains.

It felt like I could cup a modern 21st-century city in one hand and an ancient plain teeming with wildlife in the other. Somehow, Africans have crossed the divide, embraced and respected nature, admitted to development and successfully maintained a balanced cohabitation and conservation.

We slept like lambs and woke up refreshed and excited to meet Cor and his friend Koi.

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The weather forecast was bleak. Rain was predicted. After a few minutes of contemplation, we dug out our rain gear stowed in hatches and the beach bag. It is uncanny how things can get lost in small spaces. One thinks it’s impossible to forget where we’d stowed something, yet, perplexed in a month or three, we find we’d completely forgotten where the “only place for a macintosh or umbrella” could be.

The lodge looked cosy, swaddled in the mist. Promptly, at 11 o’clock, we heard the drone of a motorbike and knew our guests had arrived.

Our delight at seeing Cor was quite emotional, and meeting Koi might’ve overwhelmed her, but we had too much catching up to do to dwell on our emotions. We decided we’d have tea at Rolf’s and traipsed over the suspension bridge once again.

Much had happened in all our journeys to get us to this sitting room in Nairobi, and we coaxed all the news of home from Cor, who brought us up to date on family and then told us about his English teaching posts abroad.

Koi told us they’d met in Hargeisa a few years previously, where she was a broadcaster for a local radio station in Somaliland. Cor happened to be one of her interviewees. Although they didn’t see each other again, they corresponded sporadically.

Cor completed his assignment in that country and ventured to various other African-Middle-Eastern and local universities and taught English as a foreign language. His stories were like an enchanted audiobook, recounting tales of adventures, customs, and cultures in places few of us will ever visit.

Koi, a Kenyan lady, is a documentary filmmaker and broadcaster. She is currently assigned to the Agricultural sector, where she produces educational material for small and subsistance farmers teaching them about modern farming practices, sustainability and climate change.

Cor recommended the Masai Lodge for luncheon. We could walk. The rain let up for most of our walk, but the soft, misty drops didn’t deter us at all. We walked, chatted up a storm, and arrived at the lodge ready for our traditional Kenyan meal.

In Kenyan culture, Nyama Choma (grilled meat in Swahili) is a popular main meal, particularly among the Kikuyu people of Central Kenya. This dish features tender cuts of meat, typically goat or beef, marinated in a mixture of lime juice, herbs, and spices before being grilled to perfection over an open flame.

Our goat meat was prepared and served with Ugali, cooked Maize meal, or rice. Ugali is usually a stiff white porridge, suitable for dipping in stews and gravy. Traditionally eaten by hand, the Ugali is formed into a ball, dipped into the sauce and eaten. Ugali is the leading staple food in much of Africa.

Sukuma Wiki - finely chopped Spinach, Kale and Indigenous leaves, including pumpkin and sweet potato leaves, are simmered with diced tomato and onion and spiced with mchuzi mix (Kenyan flavoured salt)

Maharagwe is a delicious combination of dried and soaked red beans, and red onions simmered in a rich sauce of coconut milk, tomato and aromatic spices. Maharagwe is often eaten with ugali but can also be enjoyed with rice or chapati.

These local ingredients can be bought everywhere along the road at informal market stalls, and greater varieties are offered in formal markets throughout the country.

After our generous lunch, we needed to exercise and slowly meandered home after doing a detailed inspection of the grounds. Dessert would be the birthday cake and coffee.

All too soon, it was time for our guests to call their motorbike taxi, but we hadn’t done all the catching up by a long shot and promised we’d be calling the next day where we would take up Koi’s kind offer to accommodate us and serve a delicious Chicken Curry for dinner.

A visit would not be complete without photographs featuring the handsome Honey Badger. As the shutter closed for the last time, we heard the roar of a motorbike and with final waves, they were gone.

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We couldn’t leave the area without a thorough investigation, so we went on an adventure to find Kitenga Hot Glass. Our route took us onto the plains across rutted roads through scrubland and the ravine, to be transported into another space and time where creative art infused the landscape, the air and everyone attached to it.

Kitengela Hot Glass is located on the edge of the Nairobi Game Reserve and a 50-minute drive from Nairobi city centre.

All the pieces are hand-blown from recycled glass. Guests can watch the process while a guide explains in step-by-step detail from the beginning until the finished article is set aside to cool.

We were astonished by the number of tourists visiting Kitenga Hot Glass and realised this magical and unique ancient process is world renowned.

Years ago, I’d watched David Reede, a very talented glass blower in Worcester, practising his craft and saw these artisans creating beautiful pieces under similar extreme conditions where heat, weight, and precision determined the success of a piece of hot glass.

After our demonstration, we perused the magnificent pieces on display in the shop where I couldn’t resist a pair of exquisite red wine glasses.

It was coffee time. Fortunately, a family of four had just finished their breakfast and beckoned us over to sit at their funky mosaic table at the café under umbrella trees in an enchanted garden filled with chimes, mosaics, bird feeders and dream catchers. All around us foreign languages were spoken French, German, Dutch and Flemish.

I could’ve spent an hour soaking up the peaceful vibes, but we had an appointment and didn’t know how long our travels to Langata would be.

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Butch had his mind set on the Ring Road to make our travelling time shorter to get to Koi’s. We had to navigate our way through the chaos of traffic and a cacophony of neighbourhood traffic where informal settlements and modern high rise buildings are haphazardly married.

Finally, we spotted the turnpike on one side and the Nairobi city centre on the other. We were going at a good clip, but the GPS warned us that we needed to slide left to Mavoko and our next destination before we could get too comfortable.

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It was exhilirating to be back in unfamiliar territory again and I snapped away recording our journey.

Koi was the perfect hostess and served a delicious dinner after our walk to visit her sister a few streets away.

By the time we went to bed that evening, we were exhausted, having brought ourselves up to date on all the news, our travels, Cor with his tales of adventure and Koi telling us about her family history and what an important role her grandfather played in Kenya’s independence.

It is heartwarming to know that his grandchildren heard his stories and are building their futures on the foundations laid by him and his fellow comrades. There is immense pride in her retelling of his courage, determination and sacrifice.

I was offered a comfortable bed for the night, which I gladly accepted while Butch opted to sleep in The Honey Badger for security’s sake—the night slipped by in a delightful dream.

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The following day, we went for a walk and noticed the destruction of the roads after the heavy rainfall.

We giggled at the unusual name of a hotel. I perused and bought a pair of slacks at Koi’s boutique, where her sales lady quickly saw my eagerness and presented me with a perfect match.

In a crocodile formation, we marched along the flooded dirt road, dodging cars and waterlogged potholes hopping and skipping from one side to the next to remain dry.

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Our water tanks were running dry, and Koi advised us to fill them with potable water at the water station down the road before leaving Nairobi for the next leg of our journey.

After a mission to find a suitable hose pipe and parking the truck a meter from the water point we were able to fill up. It was time to say our final goodbyes. As the song goes, it’s never easy to say goodbye.

Promises were made and kept to stay in touch, and I hope we’ll meet again somewhere sometime.

Thank you, Cor, for reaching out and catching up, spending lovely days with us oldies. We might not be blood but we are family. It means more than you’ll ever realise. It was great to pause and reconnect.

Koi, you are a delight. We loved meeting you, and getting acquainted with you has been fantastic. You are a remarkable young woman, an excellent story teller with a sharp mind and quick wit. We wish you well in all your endeavours.

It was time go.

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With his GPS setting the route, we started our journey to the coast, hoping to spend a few weeks under an umbrella with a book, soaking up the sun, my bare arms and legs coated in a coconut oil fragranced sun tan lotion.

We zipped along the ring road, saw familiar buildings, scouted the game reserve, and then slid off the highway to enter the main road heading east.

The bustle of busy city roads became less congested, and then the landscape changed, and we were back on country roads dotted with small villages in between.

Roads became narrower and slower, with only the occasional big truck trundling past us.

Somewhere along the road, Butch realised we’d missed a turnoff, or the GPS had rebooted. We were on the wrong road. The shortcut we hoped to take was nowhere to be seen, and we were on our way to the Amboseli Game reserve, which he’d tried to avoid at all costs.

I must confess I wasn’t too upset by the diversion and rather enjoyed the yellowing grassy plains, the distant hills, and later, the dirt roads, cattle, goats and various livestock being herded—the Kings of the road.

Camels were the last thing I expected, but rather enjoyed their sullen stares as we passed. We were travelling from the west to the east, and only a few kilometres away was Tanzania, where we’d been the year before. It felt like home.

We enjoyed this dry desert-like landscape during our Enduimet Wildlife Management Area visit. Everything was making sense again.

There are wildlife corridors and no fences, allowing game to roam free.

We had no choice but to enter the Amboseli game reserve. Fortunately, we could say we were in transit, we thought, to save on the exorbitant costs.

The Maasai ladies in the last village before the entrance gate were dressed in their finery, bedecked in beautiful beaded jewellery, bracelets and unusual earrings. I couldn’t resist the opportunity to chat and paid a small fee for a few photographs while Butch explained our predicament to the officials at the gate.

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We arrived at the gate early in the afternoon and predicted that our journey through the Park, at the desired speed, would take us three hours. We needed to make haste.

The officials listened to Butch’s tale of woe, but there was no way of getting out of paying the daily rate, even for transit, they assured us.

We did a lot of head-scratching, converted the $200 (for us) and the additional fee for the truck $30 to ZAR and cringed. There were no exceptions. We had to cough up or back track.

It could’ve been the attitude of the officials, the time wasted or our fatigue, but we decided to bite the bullet and pay up.

“Ahh,” the official said scratching his head with his index finger, when it was time to pay, “we have a problem." he said sounding exasperated "The internet is down, and we've been struggling to make Visa payments or complete the online forms. But we’ll try our best.” he added for effect.

The clock was ticking. We only had three hours to make our way across the Park to exit by 18h00 if all went according to plan inside the Park.

At times like these, one’s resilience is tested. Praise be. Eventually, our payment dribbled through, Butch received a ping from his bank, and the paperwork was done. We signed and sighed, and the boom lifted, allowing us to enter the Amboseli National Park.

There would be no time to sightsee Butch warned. We now had 2 hours to get through the Park before closing time.

Butch will confirm that it’s not easy for me to hold my tongue, but this time I held my breath and pose as we skidaddled through the Park with no stopping to take in the vistas or herds. All I could do was hope my drive by shootings would suffice. I think they did.