Our day in Moyale, Kenya started relatively late considering the five in the morning departures we had become accustomed to in Ethiopia. We ate breakfast at a small shop (75 cents for the two of us) and were able to get dollars to pay for our visas, which we did without hassle.
The next task was to book a spot on a truck to Nairobi. The typical route takes you through the Kenyan desert and into the highlands past Mount Kenya, something we were excited to see. We were informed however, that this two-day route was far too dangerous. Tribal conflict was making passage impossible. Instead we would have to travel East into the Somali region and then South. This was a much safer options for the Kenyans, but Somali-American history added another element of danger for Jay and I (see Blackhawk Down).
After quickly talking our way down from the Muzungu (Swahili for white person) price of 2000 schillings to 1000 each we found ourselves on the top of a steel cage that covered the back of a late model Mitsubishi lorry. Our fellow passengers included 2 Kenyan soldiers who we quickly made friends with, several other Kenyan travelers, and about 20 cows standing below our perches on the steel frame.
Jay and I both could not wipe smiles off our faces as we descended out of Moyale and into the desert. We could hardly comprehend the comfort of being able to breathe fresh air rather than the nauseating, stagnant air commonplace on Ethiopian buses. The metal bars cut the circulation from our legs, and the charging of the bus over nearly nonexistent roads was harrowing, but being outside was a liberating feeling.
Before leaving the last signs of civilization we were stopped several times by Kenyan police to check passports and IDs and in the process picked up more passengers. Now our relatively comfortable spots became precarious inches on the metal bars; an old woman's foot rested on my hand and a younger girl laid her legs squarely in Jay's lap. Fortunately these new, unwelcome travelers stayed on for only about two or three hours. In retrospect this does not seem terribly long, but at the time we had no idea the length of this new route.
Turns out the trip, on top of this cattle truck, through nothing but desert, on nothing but a bumpy, sandy track would take us 14 hours. We were able to keep the trip in perspective for most of the time, knowing it was a once in a lifetime experience and that the discomfort would not be repeated after the trip was over. However, when the light began to fade and one of our soldier friends informed us that we still had six hours to go, we began to recognize the absurdity and danger of this adventure. Furthermore, our palms were becoming calloused from gripping the metal bars and our legs had long since gone into a painful sleep. Sore, exhausted, hungry and now a bit scared we lunged on, well past a blazing-red sunset. Our driver decided that now that he couldn't see the oncoming potholes that they no longer existed. So he sped up.
Now this wasn't exactly an express journey. Our fellow bovine passengers were sleepy from the outset and apparently, we weren't told why, the cows could die if they lay down while traveling. So, at least 15 times throughout the trip, we had to stop for their "caretaker" to tie a strap around their mouth and nose, suffocating them until they stood up to fill their lungs. Their gasping and eyes bulging from terror probably mimicked our reaction to the technique. We also stopped at various police checkpoints. The police always made a point of grilling our passports in an attempt at proving their power. We stopped once late in the afternoon in a town with far more camels than people for spaghetti with potatoes and beans and no silverware. The gruel was washed down with a cup of warm chai and ten minutes later we were hustled back aboard the truck.
We were able to see some of Kenya's famed wildlife while on the truck: Giraffes, DikDiks, Ibex, a snake (fortunately Jay didn't see this one), Jackals, Ostriches and Gazelles. At one point that night, just seconds after a hyena crossed through our headlights, we had to stop for the cows again. Our stopping place was not fortuitous. The truck struggled to restart in the deep sand and we were told that the increasing rustling in the bushes meant hyenas had honed in on the distressed mooing of the cattle. Finally, with a few brave soldiers helping to free the truck, we jolted out of the sand leaving a pack of disappointed hyenas in our wake.
Finally, as exhaustion neared delirium, we made it to the Somali (Somali people, not in Somalia) town of Garissa. Or almost made it. The truck decided to stop at a police checkpoint for the night 10km outside of the first eclectic lights we had seen in hours. Luckily the soldiers we had befriended, one a new father, were just as eager to reach Nairobi as we were. They borrowed the police phone and called for a taxi that we split into Garissa. The relief at sitting in the comfortable seat of that car was unbelievable.
We made it to Garissa at 2:30am, a half hour after the last bus to Nairobi had left. So, we spent the next 3 and a half hours in a hole of a Somali-owned "restaurant" playing cards, drinking tea and eating the scraps of the food left over from what they had made for the guests who arrived at normal hours. Beyond our bruised bodies, hunger, and exhaustion, an angry Somali not pleased with our arrival yelled at his friends while staring at us (the only word we recognized was "American") making the stay just a little bit more uncomfortable.
Plenty ready to leave we eventually hopped a bus for Nairobi at six that morning. Again, unaware of the actual distance, we expected to arrive around eleven. Instead, after about 30 police checkpoints and plenty of moneyed handshakes by the driver we were dropped in Eastleigh, the Somali part of Nairobi around four in the afternoon. Thanks to Peter, one of the soldiers, we found the right Matatu (one pumping massive amounts of base into our already delirious heads) to Westlands where our amazingly hospitable hosts, Nate and Jill, live. After taking probably the most needed showers of our lives we went out for even more needed food heading straight for a pizza place that I remembered from my first visit to Nairobi. Beer and pizza have never tasted more gourmet but, having not eaten a meal for two days we went directly to the burger joint next door after each finishing a pie.
It looks like we will be heading to Nakuru, Kenya tomorrow to interview children for The South Sudan Scholarship Foundation (www.southsudansf.org). Later next week we expect to arrive in Kampala, Uganda where we will meet the original SSSF students and stay with their caretaker, Acen.
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