One of the last things I remember checking on my stolen lap tops were flights on KQ (Kenya Airways) to Nairobi. I was close to buying a full fare ticket rather than take advantage of a stand-by, because I was not entirely comfortable with using my company benefits to write an exam for another job. My qualms were put completely to bed after the incident with my computer and my whole concern shifted to the option that would cost me least money.
So as it happened I bought myself only a stand by ticket on SAA and double-checked that I do not need a visa. Since I was flying to Nairobi via Johannesburg I found myself at Cape Town airport for the earliest flight, I reckoned that since it was a Sunday the flights will be busy and they will get busier as the day wore on. There were two flights from JNB to NBO on the day but I did not want to wait around for the later flights and preferred to arrive earlier in Gigiri to orientate myself.
So it was I left with heavy heart early in the morning, leaving Robert with his dad and with lots of instructions and support. I was due to come home on Tuesday afternoon and that means I will spend two nights away from my little boy. I did not get on the first flight out to Johannesburg but was on the next one which meant that I would make the connection to the earlier flight to Nairobi.
I spoke to Robert again from Johannesburg as I was checking in for the flight and sent a text message to my contact at the guesthouse in Gigiri to arrange for a taxi from the airport. The flight to Nairobi was four hours and I arrived in the afternoon to a warm and humid city. The taxi was waiting for me, an old car with tattered upholstery but the driver was very nice.
Nairobi struck me as a true African city. I passed this way before almost ten years ago, on my way to Johannesburg at the time I only glimpsed the airport and the skyline of the city but I got the feeling that things haven’t changed much since then. The airport itself is distinctly third world, with dirty tiles and smudged counter windows, and plastic loungers showing their cracks and their age. The drive from the airport was easy, and there was no traffic to speak of on a Sunday afternoon, but the dusty road reminded me of Aleppo, and I am positive that it would get terribly congested during rush hours. Drivers had the same lack of curtsy I experienced in the Middle East, where traffic circles are a clear invitation to chaos, when all cars from all direction claim the right of way, and the horn seems to be the only useful traffic signal. This is very different from the scene in South Africa’s urban centers.
Also reminiscent of the Middle East was the general state of the roads, the pot holes, the broken lamp posts, and the uneven sidewalks. Things like that appear also in South Africa but they are less prevalent in the large city. As we neared the city center I saw huge birds gathered on one of the trees by the roadside, and I realized with a chill that they were vultures, I never expected to encounter such a sight in the middle of an urban setting, and again I had to remind myself that this is the heart of Africa.
Although Gigiri is the home of the United Nation office in Nairobi (UNON) there aren’t many guesthouses in the area, and the place where I ended up staying is the only one that responded to my inquiry. It is big house overlooking a garden and has a huge kitchen and television room for the guests to share, the room itself was very big and had a television and a small fridge. Again the furniture, curtains and colors reminded me of the Middle East, there were lots of velvet, gold thread, curtains with tie-backs and tassels. The setting showed signs of age, but was nevertheless comfortable. Most impressive was the friendliness of the people who were looking after the guesthouse. They helped me with directions to the UN office and I walked there on the afternoon of my arrival for orientation and timing. I told the young woman that I will be back for dinner.
The walk to the UN office took just over twenty minutes. I returned just as it was getting dark. I remember that I stumbled into a little puddle on my way back and muddied my sandals. I was grateful that I will be wearing sensible and not dressy shoes for the exam.
Dinnertime at Rugiri Guesthouse was a quaint affair. I met the only other guest, I do not remember his name anymore but he spoke with a very distinct north American accent and I was therefore shocked to find out that he was Russian. Despite his full head of hair, all dyed a dark reddish brown, I could tell that he was old enough to remember the USSR, and that perhaps gave us a little more to talk about. He was thrilled to find out that I came originally from Syria. We sat at the kitchen counter throughout dinner. He had TWO laptops and was working on something while helping the young woman who is in charge of the guesthouse to download or upload something on her own Netbook. She was, I understood, working on an assignment for university. Meanwhile I was still sore from the loss of my laptop and wondering when I will ever have the company of one again.
The mystery Russian man had many interesting things to talk about. He worked for an NGO and was in Nairobi on one of his projects. Throughout his travels he came across many adverse situation and perhaps that is why he was guarded about personal information, he never volunteered much, but he told me one story that I found interesting. In his opinion what separates civilized men from savages is one meal and a drink. He came to realize that once when he was besieged with other relief workers and the rations of food started running short. It is a scary thought to contemplate.
I will remember himthough for his love of reading and he gave me some book titles that I promised to check out and will read in due course. I think his taste ran towards the futuristic apocalyptic, because Aldus Huxley’s Brave New World featured in that conversation.
The next day I met him again at breakfast and we exchanged good wishes while I went on my way to the exam. The UN building in Nairobi is surrounded by a lot of green and the entrance is interesting as you follow a winding path of flagpoles to the main building. The security procedure was not long and I was early to the appointment. It took a little longer to locate the man in charge of the exam, who turned out to be a weary-looking Frenchman, who did not hide his dissatisfaction with the “strange” instructions passed down to him from New York. Inwardly I sighed, here was the shape of things to come: bureaucrats complaining about other bureaucrats did not sound so good.
In time I met the other two candidates in Nairobi. A Moroccan gentleman who was visibly older than I was. He told me that he was a teacher at a local university. The other candidate I saw but I did not talk to. She was the blind candidate who gave rise to the Frenchman’s complaints. At the time we arrived they were still busy trying to set up the software to help her perform the test. The next hours went by very quickly for me as I wrote the three exam papers one after the next. Sometime in between the papers we had a break, and I ate the crackers and cheese I brought with me. I even came prepared with a sachet of instant coffee, but it was a mission for my Moroccan colleague to find the boiled water for it. When the time for the third and last paper finished, we said our goodbyes and I went to retrace my way back to the guesthouse. My brain was tired but I was high on adrenaline feeling that I did the best that I could.
I asked for a place to go shopping and the ladies at reception gave me direction to the village market. I expected some sort of local market that sold local produce, but it was a small mall called the Village Market. I saw many of the familiar South African franchise brands, like Steers, Debonairs and even Woolworths. I just stopped at one of the local supermarkets where I bought a few treats: dried pineapples and Kenyan coffee come to mind. I spent all the Kenyan currency I had left after paying for my room and meals.
In the evening I had dinner alone. My companion of last night had already checked out, but I still enjoyed a fish dish that one of the male staff of the guesthouse cooked. The next day was a public holiday in Kenya – Kenyatta Day and I saw some programs on national television about the man. I also discussed Swahili with one of the friendly staff, it has many words of recognizable Arabic origin. Before she left for the night the lady receptionist/caretaker assured me that my taxi driver will pick me up for my trip to the airport bright and early. I said my goodbyes and turned in for my last night away from home and from Robert.
The trip back home was very uneventful, until I arrived at Johannesburg airport that is. At passport control a very bored-looking female immigration officer asked to see my immunization card, after asking me where I arrived from. I was later turned away from immigration on the pretext that I needed an immunization again yellow fever.
Help of course was at hand in the form of a private international clinic, the only problem is that the shot cost me over R700 (more than $100 at the time) and that was many multiples of what it cost in a normal hospital. Somebody had to take me around immigration to an ATM because I did not have that money in cash and the disgraceful private clinic did not have a credit card facility. I was fuming at the end of this misadventure and no amount of justification from the medic at the clinic could convince me that their operation was anything other than highway robbery with the endorsement of government, absolutely awful.
The delay meant that I had to wait a little longer to board a flight to Cape Town. Fortunately the flights were not full on a weekday and I proceeded home with a little less money and sore arm. The thought of meeting my little boy soon was enough to get me over anything else.
In all it was a successful trip and I will remember Nairobi fondly. Kenya looks like a true African country with no more white-man hangups. In fact, apart from the mysterious Russian and the senior staff at the United Nations, I did not see any white people in Nairobi, and I was impressed with the efficiency of everyone from the staff at the guest house to the taxi driver. Yes, things were run-down and a little reminiscent of the cash-strapped country in the Middle East I hail from, but it was pleasant to see the Africans -for better or worse- running their own country.