43 Hours in Nairobi

I spent last week in Kampala on the shores of Lake Victoria, first for a workshop and then for a conference.  Because my flight routed through Nairobi, I decided to take the opportunity to reconnect with urban life on my way home.

Turning my phone on amid the chorus of Nokia start-up sounds, the first message on the screen was “traffic is terrible, if there is a bar at the airport, I suggest you go there and have a drink”.  It was past 10 pm.  If you haven’t spent time at the Nairobi airport, take my word for it, you’ve missed nothing.  After a day of travel I quickly decided that braving the traffic had to be the better option.

Arriving at the customs desk, I was granted a $20 transit visa (pretty awesome in contrast to the $50 regular one).  I handed my hundred dollar bill to the officer and after a brief examination she told me that it was too old and she could not accept it.  I responded with the obvious – I do not live in America and do not have a ready source of US currency to draw from.  She responded with her equivalent: I should go to the Forex back in the terminal and switch my bill.  Why? Because bills from the nineties are worth less than those printed after 2000.  I asked what would happen if I could not find a newer bill, would I have to wait stranded in the airport like in that movie?  She replied: “don’t be ridiculous”.  My inner monologue queried: “seriously, as though that is the only ridiculous part of the exchange we are having?”  

Alas, despite my reservations that this was a reality in the world markets, I dragged myself back to the terminal.  Unable to find the Forex, I decided to withdraw money and pay them in Kenyan Shillings (yep, recipe for an argument).  That was until I noticed that the amounts on the machine were in Pounds!?! Resigned, I looked up, right at my boss who was doing some shopping while waiting for her connection to Europe.  Amazing! 

One bill exchange and twenty minutes later we were snaking our way out of the airport, which had areas blocked off owing to the threat of retaliation from Al-Shabab.  The roads were empty and I thought the traffic had finally dissipated, until we reached the city.  There a scene of chaos waited at every turn.  Heavy rains had made driving an exercise in skill and patience.  Not to mention foresight: dozens of cars were parked on the sides of the road, presumably because they had ran out of gas.  Luckily, my driver wasn’t having any of it and somehow he managed to get me to my destination – off a dirt road that had collapsed into a series of craters – in record time!  Insert some wine, yahtzee and the lights of a big city to make the journey worthwhile.

The next day we headed to the National Museum.  Perched on a hill over botanical gardens, it is a spot that I’ve wanted to visit on numerous occasions but never found the time for.  Kenya being home to the Rift Valley, i.e. the cradle of civilization, natural history is the obvious highlight.  From the remnants of Lucy to those of the Turkana Boy, we were treated to glimpses of our ancestors from 1.7 million years ago.  Illustrations on the walls of early hominids eating, hunting and relaxing on the savannah, much like the animals I saw on safari weeks ago, was fodder for the imagination.  It seems incredible, but it brought home to me the fact that without forced removals from national governments, there are groups of people who would still be living that life on the savannah.  Not too much about that in the museum, though.

One of my favourite things about Nairobi is that it is a city full of movement and life.  Even despite the threat of reprisals from the recently invaded Somalia, the streets were filled with people going about their weekend routines.  There were signs of heightened security, but somehow that did not manage to feel invasive.  This allowed me to indulge in some of my other favourite things about Nairobi – shopping and eating!  Good coffee! Excellent bread! Huevos Rancheros! We even managed to have juice at an organic restaurant, although I would not recommend the one called ‘cleansing’.

And speaking of movement, Sunday was the Nairobi Marathon.  Had I known, I would have talked myself out of excuses and participated in the 10k, but that is beside the point.  I had the pleasure of attending a run that I wasn’t participating in – for the first time.  And thanks to a good friend with a press pass, I was standing at the finish line when the marathon winners came through.  Confirming my impressions from the previous day at the museum, the human body is magnificent.  These runners make 42k in 2 hours look easier than most of us can make 500 meters look on a good day.  That ease belies the mastery of body and will required to complete such a monumental effort. Witnessing the utter collapse of the winners at the finish line revealed the intensity of their exertion.

Watching all of that, of course, made me hungry!  Some pancakes, consumed while watching children in Halloween costumes file into the café, a brief walk and a taxi ride brought me back to the airport.  Landing in Dar the pilot announced the temperature at 7pm: 30 C.  Revived by my weekend in the city, I shed my sweater and got off the plane.  The hot season begins.