Masai Mara

We just had a fabulous trip to the Masai Mara. I’m ashamed to say that even though it’s on our doorstep we have only been there once before and that was in 2005. Now I’m resolved to go every year. However, even though we drove ourselves there, it was expensive, so we’ll see what happens. We went with friends but I think they’ll agree with me that what made the trip for all of us was William, our masai guide. Our friends already knew him well having been to the same lodge five times.


I think that my husband secretly wishes that in another life, he was a masai. They got on famously in the front of the car, morning and evening on game drives that stretched to many hours. As William’s eyes scanned the horizon in search of game, my husband quizzed him on all things masai. He even tried learning some masai phrases, noting them down studiously on a piece of paper. My favourite one was,

‘Where are you going?’ I guess that the nomadic masai use this line a lot!

We learned that William has been working as a guide for the lodge for 12 years but he gets paid cash in hand so can’t strictly be described as an employee. He said that when he arrived there he only spoke Maa but since then entering the tourist trade, he’s himself English and Swahili on the job.

William had a great sense of humour and made all of us laugh but I soon discovered that he was a typical masai, ie a man’s man. We had some of the best game drives ever and spotted lion with cubs, cheetah with cubs, even a leopard – my first sighting in the wild! When my husband drove uncomfortably close to an old, black maned lion, William laughed at me for being scared, sheepishly winding the window up. When I expressed concern at descending into a particularly steep and rocky riverbed he said,

‘Hah, you are scared of so many things! First the lion and now this!’

When my husband suggested I take a photograph of a migration sized herd of wildebeest and I lazily handed him the camera instead, William said,

‘In my culture, it’s the women who do all the work.’

My husband asked what masai spearheads were made of before metal was introduced. Olivewood apparently, which is strong, hard and can be carved very sharp. William said his father made his spear and so far it has killed 3 lion. We decided it was polite not to ask who killed them. Masai are not allowed to kill lion these days. We talked about his rungu too, the small stick with a round top and he and my husband laughed when he said he uses it to hit wacora, naughty people on the head. William said you can only buy good spears and rungus in Tanzania these days. The Kenya made ones are liable to break.

William then asked my husband earnestly,

‘Do you have a spear?’

Quick as a flash I said from the back, ‘Er no, but he has a gun....’ then regretted it instantly as images of Zulu Dawn flooded into my head. Fortunately everyone was laughing. When we asked William his real name, it was so long that it was impossible to repeat. ‘Your name is as mrefu (tall) as you are!’ I said, attempting desperately to get into his good books.

When we wanted to stop for a picnic or sundowners, William was always very particular about us finding a spot on high ground, with a panoramic view, under a lone tree, which was always worth it when we got there.

The children thought he was great. When my friend’s daughter said, ‘what have you done to your ears?’ Quick as a flash he said, ‘would you like me to do this to yours?’

He tried to teach the kids how to spin stones. William had a very skilful technique of flicking them off his fingers, causing them to twang impressively as they travelled through the air. When we tried to do the same we were utterly hopeless. William did say he’s been practising since he was a boy. When viewing another sleeping lion my friend asked him,

‘Won’t you just flick his bum with a stone William, wake him up? You are so good at it!’

The good news is that it has been a great season in the Mara for tourists, in spite of the global economic downturn, last year’s drought etc.  William and my husband put it down to the fact that a peaceful voting in of a new constitution had inspired confidence in Kenya internationally.  It’s no secret that the Masai Mara plays host to one of the greatest wildlife spectacles on earth, the migration; though when we visited many of the herds had already headed back into the Serengeti and we weren't lucky enough to see any river crossings.  However, if visiting from overseas what you are are absolutely guaranteed of is a warm and friendly welcome from camp staff wherever you stay.  I guess that’s why people keep on coming back.

p.s.  My husband asked, 'was that a samburu?'  William was asking if a fellow 'traditionally dressed' game guide in a passing car had seen anything of interest. 
William said, 'yes, you can tell because the samburu wear beads on their heads, not just around their neck and across their chest.' 
My husband says cheekily. 'You mean like Masai women do? So the Samburu are a bunch of girls?' 
William laughed heartily!

To read more about this Mara trip with safari tips and tricks thrown in, click here: http://home.co.ke/index.php/african-expat/116-columns/650-maasai-mara-ahoy

UK budget, Aid to Africa ringfenced... and a bit of Kenya news

I watched the BBC news with interest as Chancellor George Osborne announced the emergency budget/proposed Government cuts in expenditure.  Once again, amongst all the hardships that the British taxpayer must endure, foreign aid is to be ring fenced alongside the NHS.  I do not know why foreign aid is somehow immune to an overhaul, we all know that huge cuts and improvements in effectiveness could be made in this area - since I've been expounding on this topic, I discovered that no one agrees more than the recipients of this aid.  I do notice that the Foreign office will experience 24% cuts though, presumably big, swanky embassy houses will be first to go. 

To illustrate the point about African Aid, I'll copy out a letter sent in August to The Daily Telegraph, UK by Andrew Mwenda, editor of The Independent, Uganda and signed by 5 other well respected African academics.  It's very interesting.

"The parlous state of Britain's public finances provides the perfect opportunity for British taxpayers to end their half-century long experiment with 'development aid', which has, since its inception, stunted growth and subsidised bad governance in Africa.


As Africans, we urge the generous-spirited British to reconsider an aid programme they can ill afford and which we do not want or need.  A real offer from the British people to help our development would consist of the abolition of the Common Agricultural Policy, which keeps African agricultural exports out of the European marketplace.


It is this policy, combined with the weight of regulations, bad laws and stifling bureaucracy, subsidised by five decades of development aid, which prevents Africans from lifting themselves out of poverty.


Andrew Mitchell, the Secretary of State for International Development, speaks about a 'moral imperative' to combat poverty around the world.  We could not agree more.


The British have a unique opportunity to cut the deficit and help Africa; please ask your new Government to stop your aid.'

Sadly, it seems that no one was listening...

Last week Kenya had its fair share of scandals, both political and non.  'Will-I-am' Ruto has been suspended from cabinet until his outstanding fraud case is settled regarding the selling of Ngong forest land to the Kenya Pipeline company back in 2004.  (There was also the maize scandal that he was implicated in a year or so ago - not sure what's happening on that one).  Ruto thinks it's unfair to suspend him because there are loads of ministers with court cases related to corruption pending but Raila and Kibaki are fed up with him because he's been politically divisive for ages, the icing on the cake being his leading the 'no' campaign against voting in the new constitution. 

Foreign Affairs minister Moses Wetangula is also in the hot seat this week, having apparently lost 1.1 billion shillings of taxpayers money in a dodgy Tokyo embassy construction fiasco.  He is accused of misleading the cabinet and making bad investment decisions (presumably driven by his personal business interests).  It seems that Kenya's anti-corruption investigators are working overtime at the moment and the message is, new constitution, no tolerance. 

There are some intriguing photographs in the newspapers, of 'men in black'/ICC officials snapped wearing sunglasses and hanging out in Eldoret, apparently there to conduct their investigations into post election violence.  I don't envy their job.

A Kenyan secondary school was razed to the ground by its own students.  The newspaper headline ran 'Not Again'.

A garden full of fundis

Today we had sixteen fundis or workmen on the plot at elevenses.  Florence said over a steaming sufria of hot tea, Gladys meanwhile frantically Blueband-ing bread; ‘it’s like a hotel here!’ Everybody gets bread, jam and tea at eleven – today it was a little out of control.

putting hard core in the pool

 The swimming pool is going on well. We planned to keep its existence a secret from my husband’s London boss who was staying last night. Our plan was foiled when the foreman gave the go ahead for four lorry loads of hardcore, sand, gravel and metal bracing to be dumped in our drive just before he was due to arrive.

The London boss, taking a three day break from a England which as we all know is in full austerity shock, was intrigued by the building materials.
‘Planning an extension to your house?’ he asked.
‘No, just a swimming pool’ we squeaked!
He also noticed the large flatscreen tv in the corner of the living room. My husband and I shrank into the sofa and hid behind cushions.  In fact the London boss was very gallant about our Posh and Becks style home improvements  - especially since he was describing how he gets up at 5am every day, taking only a 20min snooze on the train home if he's lucky!

It’s still dry here in Nairobi, so everything at home (including the guinea pigs) are covered in a fine layer of red dust from the pool excavating. By shovel, it’s taken almost a week to dig the hole. What didn’t help was half way through that we panicked and asked for it to be made it two metres longer. Since the weekend my husband and I have been in ‘what tiles to choose for the pool’ angst. We spent a particularly torrid Saturday morning in the industrial area. It’s so hard to make up our minds or agree on anything – and of course, what is locally available and in stock is also limiting – not that I’m complaining mind you!



My daughter and the big tree

 The reason for quite so many people being here today was also that the tree cutters turned up. We have a huge tree in our garden, an Indian Ash – that I’ve been fully expecting to fall on our house for years now. Having sought expert advice, we were told it was indeed unsafe, grows ferociously and needed taking down. The tree cutter, Nelson Mandela (that’s his name - no kidding!) had to get a city council licence to take the tree out.  He’s so knowledgable about everything in our garden, I'd love him to be our 'garden consultant' as I have no idea what's what and he doesn’t seem to mind scaling a 100 foot tree, swinging from ropes and lopping it down – so he’s now my hero but I must admit, I’m currently huddled in terror in my office, as each branch comes crashing down to deafening, foundation shaking thuds.

Nelson Mandela


Before the children were dispatched out to various play dates this morning, my eldest said, ‘Did you know mum, cutting down trees is not good for the environment?!’

To read more about this terrifying tree cutting exercise, click here:
http://home.co.ke/index.php/african-expat/116-columns/628-the-harrowing-saga-of-tree-cutting-at-home

Ordinary People

There is something very refreshing about the world celebrating the ordinary, hard-working man especially when he triumphs in the face of adversity. The Chilean miners are a case in point. Today I've been addicted to the footage of them emerging uncomplaining and jubilant from a claustrophobic rescue capsule after their 69 day ordeal half a mile underground. Plus, they are all looking rather stylish in light of their ordeal, swarthy, clean shaven, cool in Oakley sunglasses.

Showing remarkable modesty, Chilean miner Mario Sepulveda, 40, said shortly after being winched out,

‘I make a plea to the media to not treat us as like an artist or a show business figure. I would like you to show me how I am: a miner. I will continue to work as a miner.’

Perhaps it’s just me getting old, but don’t you feel that you’d rather read about the 'ordinary', unsung heroes in life in the press, rather than the constant bombarding we get of celebrities or attention grabbing first person accounts (in women’s magazines and newspaper supplements) promoting revoltingly lose morals or woeful tales of self inflicted social ills. Headlines like;

‘My drug taking and party lifestyle nearly killed me’ or ‘my open marriage keeps us together.’

Okay, I’ll admit to being vaguely interested to read that Paris Hilton was arrested for possession of cocaine recently; less impressed when I heard that she’d basically got off with a caution.

One of my favourite unsung heroes is Gladys who works in our house. She worked in the house before we moved in and so we’ve known her for nearly eight years now. Gladys is a person that my mum might describe as ‘old fashioned’, basically she’s honourable with a good set of morals. For example, she’s always on time, when I try to pay her something extra for overtime she refuses to take the cash and we fight over it pushing notes at one another across the table. She’s reliable and a good person.

A strong character, my husband finds her quite maddening at times because she always takes my side, is a stickler to routine and doesn’t like change much. When the kids start fighting she is able to talk in shouting tones over them that raise noise levels through the roof. In her sixties, she’s always game to jump on the trampoline with the kids or run up and down to the gate alongside a trike or bike (often bent double pushing!). When my mother-in-law came to stay with us to look after our daughter, she and Gladys almost had a physical fight over her at bath-time. Gladys was not letting go of the baby. Her parenting skills put mine to shame, but somehow we make an okay team.

She’s had a lot of tragedy in her life, she’s supporting three grandchildren upcountry since her daughter and then son-in-law both died but she keeps on keeping on and our home would be the same without her.

It’s these are the people who we ought to applaud because they make up a world, not spoiled celebs. Don’t you agree?

Read more about how it might be for the 'ordinary' Chilean miners to deal with their 15 minutes of fame here: http://home.co.ke/index.php/african-expat/116-columns/603--famous-for-15-minutes

Kibera wedding finale

Well... the Kibera wedding apparently started 3 hours late..

And the car came back with a small dent in the bumper....

Don't say 'I told you so!!'

More wedding juicy bits

Our ex-askari popped over last night.  He'd said like the car at 6am on Sunday morning.  First job for the driver; to pick up the cake.  The wedding starts at 10am.  His planning is fastidious.  I think he might be getting pre-wedding jitters!

It's quite sweet actually. 

He said, 'Thank you so much for lending us the car.  It would have cost over 15,000 Kenya shillings to hire one.  My pastor couldn't believe I was getting one from a friend and not even having to pay petrol!'

'That's what it's all about isn't it. Getting friends and community all to chip in what they can.  We are very happy to have been asked.'  I said, a little magnanimously I admit.

'Yes,' he said, 'I'm borrowing a suit from AMREF, the pastor has bought me shoes!  A member of the congregation has bought a suit for my son to wear, another is donating the cake.  My friends all chipped in to pay for the printing of invitations and 300 orders of service.'  Now I was humbled.

I said, 'is there anything else you'll need?'

He said, 'well, food and drink.'

Oh - my mind was racing - for three hundred!

He explained that lots of people will come to the wedding just to watch and he's happy for them to do that - just so that the positive message will stretch far and wide.

'They will see us and see our son who is big now (and HIV clear), in not just primary school but now in secondary and they will see that people can go on quite well.....If they go home having had a soda, they will be even happier.'

I said, 'I'll see what I can do.  We can put sodas, cups, snacks in the car.'

Guess that's our wedding present sorted then!  He also told us that various local TV stations like KTN, NTV, even CNN may be coming to film the wedding.

Our ex-askari also greeted and chatted to our three girls.  He was quite stern with our eldest, but in the nicest possible way.
'How are you?' he asked.  She hurriedly handed me her bowl of ice-cream to hold and wiped her sticky fingers down her white school sports shorts before shaking hands.
'Very good.' She said.
'Now you are grown big,' he said, 'I hope you are studying hard in school.  What are your favourite things to do?'
Her response was pretty quick, 'I like running, swimming, drawing.'
'What do you want to do when you are grown up?'
'Be a writer.' She said very definitely. (Wasn't I proud!)
'And so what are you doing now that will help you realise your goal?'
(this one would have sent me into sheer panic aged 10 but my daughter was cool as a cucumber!)
'Well,' she said, 'I read a lot and I'm good at English.'
'Excellent!' said our ex-askari.  Aside to me in a whisper, 'she is very focused!!'
I thought, that's not the daughter I know but what the hey, let's run with it!
'Good,' he was talking to her again now, 'then when you are a writer you must come back and help us learn lots of things too.'

A good education is a valuable gift and the responsibility weighs heavily on the bearer here in Kenya.

Our ex-askari's Kibera wedding

About a month ago we had a visit from our ex-askari.... To give you some background, he's the one who is HIV positive and left work at a private security company to spend two years training in HIV counselling, HIV testing, driving etc, all through AMREF initiatives.  His wife, an ex nurse, was doing courses too.  The only problem with doing all this training was that all the while he was receiving no salary; so during this time we helped him out with monthly rent, food, medical costs, a new pair of glasses for his wife (once), school fees for son (once) etc.

I will readily admit that over these years we/I did get donor fatigued (see previous posts) especially since he was in the first place an ex/part-time/indirect employee of ours.  Also, it seemed his plans to get funding for HIV related projects in Kibera would never bear fruit but when push came to shove it was hard to say no, since he was being so pro-active and positive in the face of pretty adverse circumstances.  To illustrate the point; five years ago he told us very quietly of his HIV status, but told us it was top secret because if anyone in his community got wind of it that he would be a pariah, no one would want to work with him, he wouldn't be able to use the communal tap, he would be ousted from society - to today (thanks to AMREF) arriving at our gate wearing screamingly bright 'Living Positively! Know your Status!' t-shirts and waving lots of bits of paper saying he had graduated with this and that and had big plans for the future.

Eventually, about 8 months ago now, everything came good.  Our ex-askari managed to get good funding for a project he'd thought up by putting together a team to raise awareness of HIV amongst Kibera's youth.  We attended one of his workshops in Kibera quite recently and it was impressive.... up until the point where we had to come up on stage and make a speech.  Fortunately my husband said something quite good off-the-cuff but it was excruciating even so.  A friend of mine also donated a computer and printer to him earlier this year, which was apparently a huge help in applying for a further two years of funding after the 6 month pilot was a success.

Which leads me to the point of his recent visit.  Our ex-askari came to tell us that he was planning to stage a wedding (or rather renewal of vows).  He's been married for 15 years, ten of which both he and his wife have been living with HIV - he thought that a 'wedding' would be a positive statement for the community.  Our involvement; he would like to borrow our car.

Of course we were invited too - as guests of honour.  My husband hastened to say, 'we're not coming as guests of honour, just guests if anything.'

Anyway, we're going to lend the car but have finally decided not to attend the wedding.  Initially I was keen, if nothing else it would make great content for the blog!!  Our ex-askari even told us that even the BBC were going to be there...they had been in touch.  But in the end we knew we'd stick out like flipping sore thumbs and decided it might be more relaxing for our ex-askari if we were absent.  We told him this morning and he was (funnily enough) absolutely fine about us not coming.  My husband has asked his mechanic friend to drive our car to take the 'bride' to the church, so that's all fine and organise too.   The mechanic and the ex-askari know each other.  My husband just has to lend the mechanic a tie.

Meanwhile, we will end up having our usual quiet sunday trying to get kids' homework and music practise done as painlessly as possible, staring at the huge hole in our garden and other than that, relaxing.

The only question that remains is, what to get for a wedding present...?

The march of progress....

Nairobi is a dry dust bowl these days however it seems that there’s been lots of rain everywhere outside the capital. Naivasha is green, in Western Kenya it's raining non-stop and I heard on the news yesterday that in Nakuru last weekend it was raining fish!!

The ICC are in town. Local newspapers are apparently revelling in the fact that their presence, conducting local investigations into the causes of post election violence, is sending ripples of panic amongst Kenya’s political classes.

We've decided to take the plunge - literally, and have a swimming pool built in our garden. It seems rash, I know. I wondered why the quotations we got for building it were so much less than the cost of having a pool installed in England - that is, until yesterday, when the workmen arrived, their only equipment being shovels, wheelbarrows and a ball of string.

The pool is not going to be big - just family size and we resisted the expensive lap over edges, eternity rims etc etc. It’ll be a 10 x 5 metre rectangle. Anyway, we hope it will be a good investment. One problem is that at the moment our five year old keeps asking to be excused from swimming at school. When I asked why, I got the exasperated response,

'Because it's not HEATED Mum!'

We are now considering the addition of a couple of solar panels.  I also lay awake the other night worrying that the children are all now bound to get skin cancer.

When I describe our pool plans to my friend, she says,
'So it'll just be a little plunge pool then?'
My patience is wearing thin;
'No, it'll be a perfectly serviceable sized swimming pool!’
‘But you won’t be able to do lengths in it?’
Grr!

The problem is that people's expectations have got so high. The bar has been raised.  Houses in our area have got so much smarter; in fact, it's hard not to buckle under pier pressure. It used to be the case that expats made do with grotty, dark, rented bungalows and that was great. We were all on the same level playing field.  Up until recently only Kenyans and white Kenya cowboys owned their houses - which were also small, dark and grotty, but located very on large patches of land. Now the bits of land are being split up and sold off piecemeal, the tatty bungalows pulled down and every Tom Dick and Harry (like us) can own something, funds permitting.

I love our house but I've lived with my grotty, windowless kitchen for nearly 8 years now and up until now it's been fine ....sort of (I have grown used to whinging about it but at the same time doing nothing). However, now we have complexes of gargantuan town houses packed together with swimming pools and gyms on our doorstep and friends who have bought an acre or two and are busily building fantasy homes, LA style. Guided tours through friends' brand new houses replete with multiple ensuite bathrooms, huge, American style kitchens, dressing rooms, studies, snugs and space, space, space, does eventually wear you down.

Anyway, enough about the green eyed monster. Our ‘plunge’ pool is a very exciting prospect though I do have a feeling that building it may take quite some time.... I imagine this won't be the last you hear about it!