Note: We’re at Naiberi Campground outside of Eldoret today, heading to the Masai Mara tomorrow. Check out my instagram for a few new photos and I’ll post more here we I get a better connection.
From Mwanza we made our way along the A1 road towards Kenya. Mwanza was a interesting town, much bigger than we had imagined, but since it was only a stopover spot for us I hadn’t taken the time to do any research on it. It has a beautiful bay with wonderful outcroppings of smooth rocks all over, and with the city perched along the hills around the lake it’s much more scenic than some of the other towns we’ve been passing through. We wonder what drives the economy here, it seems busy, organized, relatively clean and pleasant. I will investigate further.
The A1 is a good tar road, and stretches from Mwanza all the way through Kenya to South Sudan on a somewhat circuitous route. Traffic was light and the road mostly in good shape, but still we don’t expect to be able to exceed 50 kph average. Between getting stuck behind large trucks going slow with no chance of passing sometimes for ages, or slowing down though villages and for the numerous suspension smashing speed bumps we rarely seem to see 5th gear, but still we cruise along and watch Africa go by.
I managed to get my first speeding ticket ever, for doing 56 in a 50 zone. Oops. The officer was very polite and 30,000 shillings (less than $15 USD) later we were on our way again.
The A1 passes the Western gate to the Serengeti National Park, which we will use in a couple weeks on our way back. It was exciting to pass the park, and from the road we even saw a couple hundred wildebeest to whet our appetite for our future Serengeti adventures.
And where are we headed you ask? Our eventual destination and northern most point of the trip was Kacheliba, Kenya. A village I assume has never seen a foreign tourist. In 2008 I worked as a logistics manager for an NGO running a clinic in the village. It would take us a couple days travel to get there, but this detour was something of a minor pilgrimage to show Jenny where I had spent some time in Kenya and revisit the area. It’s a bit out of the way, but since I might never be closer it seemed worth the effort to stop by and say hello.
As we continued the road north of the Ndabaka gate gets even better, becoming wider and smoother with less villages and we picked up speed a bit. The terrain changed from flat late savannah to beautiful greenery with those huge granite (I think) rocks piled high all over the place. The road winds between and around these and the change and good views were great.
We crossed into Kenya at the Isabania border crossing in the southwest of Kenya. Border formalities were pretty straightforward. On the Tanzania side of things the officer explained that in the future, whenever that may be, this will be a “one stop” border post, with both Kenyan and Tanzanian officials in the same building. However he said “there are some logistics to work out.” So it seemed it might be a while. We were through Tanzania in 20 minutes with no waiting.
On the Kenya side things are a little less efficient, but not too bad and we inadvertently slowed things down by going out of order. Normally you go through immigration first and customs second. However customs is who issues the temporary import permit (TIP) for the car to be able to enter the country, and we had read and been told that to enter Kenya you need a Carnet de Passages en Douane, or CPD. A carnet is sort of passport for your car, to prevent you illegally selling the vehicle without paying large duties. Different countries have different rules about this, and many countries if you are arriving by land you can request a TIP at the border and they’ll issue one for temporary permission to enter the country, no carnet required.
This is the route we preferred, as a carnet is an expensive document to obtain. In our case it would have been $500 US, but it could be much more depending on vehicle value, issuing authority, and countries you intend to use it in.
Since it seemed there was a chance we would be turned away, as we had no carnet, we went to customs first. We had to wait around for a while, apparently the officer that has the computer password to issue the TIP wasn’t here and “would be back”.
He did eventually come, and after a few questions said they could issue the TIP, no problem and no fee. Great!
He sent us to immigration, and said that when we were back from immigration he’d have the TIP ready for us and we could be on our way. Immigration issued us a visa on arrival, $50 USD each for double entry. Back to customs. Only…no customs officer. He was gone again, so we waited. Hilariously Jenny had been watching the wall clock, and then realized that the second hand wasn’t moving and it must be broken. “No no, it’s working.” I assured her, and I showed her my phone with the same time on it. It seemed like it was taking ages and the wall clock hadn’t even moved, and we realized that it was broken, but as we all know, even a broken clock is right twice a day!
Eventually he came back and gave us our TIP, valid for 2 weeks, and we were off. I read online that they would only issued a TIP for 2 weeks, which was long enough for our trip, and I did ask if it was possible to get one for longer and I didn’t get a clear answer. It seems in any case that you could get an extension at a customs office, but again the answer wasn’t totally clear.
With the border taking a while we had to decide how far to push into Kenya. Stop at the relatively close Migori Mission, which reportedly welcomes campers, or further north to Sondu to a the Maraboi campsite. As usual we decided to go big, so we set our sights on Maraboi.
About missions. As I understand it, it’s not uncommon for people to stop at missions, which are dotted all across Africa in the most remote of places, and ask to camp. I’ve never heard of anyone being turned away, and usually a small donation to the mission is all that is expected. In one of my favorite overland travel accounts of all time, Frederik and Josephine’s absolutely incredible account of diving across the Congo, I believe they stayed in missions almost the whole way. (http://www.horizonsunlimited.com/hubb/ride-tales/democratic-republic-congo-lubumbashi-kinshasa-53285 -don’t miss this one, their story is captivating!) That said, Jenny and I are somewhat uncomfortable around organized religion and the mission stay, particularly for Jenny, wasn’t exciting.
I’m curious, and I thought it’d be an interesting experience and good to know if that was something we would have as an option in the future, but Jenny was imagining that after we were inside the gates the indoctrination would begin!
About driving. Africa has continued to toss us one more ball to juggle on the road. The further north we go, the more there is to keep you busy. Thicker clouds of dust, narrower roads, the heavily cambered roads of Tanzania. This time we’ve just come from the Tanzanian side of the A1, and this particular stretch of road was immaculate tarmac, with wide shoulders, ample lanes and painted lines on the road, an under appreciated road safety feature, you don’t realize how great they are until you don’t have them.
The road on the Kenya side immediately narrowed, traffic was much denser, there is no shoulder and there are motorcycles, locally known as boda bodas, and minibuses, known as matatus everywhere. Traffic moves at a decent clip, buses and large trucks barreled towards us and you have to drive with the tires nearly on the edge of the road to clear the large vehicles heading your way. This is complicated when there is a boda boda right there and thus no room for all three of you. In addition, now in Kenya the rainy season is in full effect. The heavy rains have washed away the shoulder in many sections. In some sections it’s a mere six inch drop to the shoulder, but in many areas for kilometers it was a half a meter, a meter or more, a drop that would result in, at best, you ending up in the ditch with a difficult recovery, and more likely a rollover accident.
Also there are people everywhere. The road is also theirs to use, and pedestrians and bicycles are in the road headed to and from neighboring villages conducting their business. All this means driving isn’t exactly relaxed. No more wide open stretches of bush as in Botswana, or like the remote dirt roads of Western Tanzania. Just white knuckle driving, squeezing your way between all the traffic and hoping to stay out of an accident.
Mind you things did actually improve as we made our way north, and after a while we got into the flow of things, but that initial few hours after the border was a shock. Driving here has a more organic flow. If someone overtakes without enough room the oncoming car will flash their lights and keep coming, but slow down if need be at the last minute. If a huge pothole is ahead and a truck is headed towards you it surprises no one if you swerve into oncoming traffic around the pothole, as long as you’re back on your side before meeting. Boda bodas weave through traffic with heavy loads and passengers and pass on the left or the right, but they are very aware and know when to back off if need be. So it takes some getting used to, but for the most part drivers are in fact quite courteous and paying attention, but they’re also just more comfortable cutting closer than we are back home.
When we arrive in a congested city we look down the main road and see nothing but congestion and a mass of bicycles, boda bodas and people and yet somehow we creep through and it all sort of works.
After getting the hang of the Kenyan roads it started raining. We could see the clouds building and darkening and looking very ominous and finally it began. In just a few minutes it got dark and the rain was coming down so hard we could barely see. Thankfully everyone else slowed down and put on their hazard lights so you can see the edges of their vehicles. Pedestrians and boda bodas quickly sought shelter and those left on the road feel their way along, as if by braille, hoping to avoid the precipice on either shoulder of the narrow road.
We saw the writing on the wall and sought to get off the road as quickly as we could. In pouring rain we luckily saw the “Treat House Resort” just south of Rongo. Resort might be stretching it, but for 3500 ksh ($35 USD) we got an executive room with a hot shower in a cleanish hotel. We retreated to the lobby for a beer and listened to the rain come down, relieved to be off the road.
The following night we made it north of Kitale and stayed at Barnley’s Guest House and Campsite (a.k.a Sirikwa Safaris), hosted by Richard Barnley, a white Kenyan who was born in Kitale. He said we were the first campers in “a long time” (though he didn’t specify how long) and that things had been slow. The month before he hadn’t had a single visitor. It was great to sit by the fire and listen to his stories of Kenya and his time in surrounding countries.
He is also an invaluable source of local knowledge and had great advice about other places to camp in the area, road conditions and interesting routes to take to Turkana or Baringo.
Also during our stay there we had a chance to talk to a Kenyan family that was there for the day to see the colobus monkeys that reside at Barnley’s. They were very interested in the land cruiser and our trip in general, and asked us how we were finding Kenya. After some chat they got down to the real business, namely, what kind of phones did we have, how fast was the internet at home and what TV shows did we like. Pretty funny, so much for cultural differences! This echos what a veteran relief worker had told me years ago, “It doesn’t matter what country you’re in or what religion you follow, most everyone just wants same thing, to be able to feed their family and have a big screen TV to watch the game on.”
The following day we headed to Kacheliba. I was curious what would we find. I had no idea if anyone I knew would still be there. I knew the project had been officially turned over to the Kenyan Ministry of Health, but that a few years ago there was still some involvement from the Drugs for Neglected Disease Initiative, or DNDI.
Richard had warned us that the road down the escarpment to Kacheliba was bad. Between the recent heavy rain and also now heavy trucks were bringing up sand from the Suam river and damaging the road. It drops about 800 meters in a few kilometers, nothing too steep though, but it was rocky with wash outs and ruts. I put it in low range for engine braking and let the cruiser do the work on the decent. I would say the road is in bad shape, but expertly piloted two wheel drive matatus make the run regularly, so I guess we’re the wimps. I have no idea how they negotiate a few of the sections without tearing our their suspension, but they seem to manage.
Kacheliba has grown up a bit since 2008. The neighboring village on one side of the river, Kongelai, has expanded, and larger Kacheliba is bigger too. Electricity has come to town, a filling station and more shops. Cell phone coverage is more reliable. And the Chinese have arrived. If you read anything about Africa you will here that the Chinese are paving the continent, and it’s true. Even here in remote Kacheliba they are in the first stages of a five year project to pave the road from the A1, down the escarpment to Kacheliba and beyond. So heavy equipment is plying the road on either side of town, getting down to business, and the Chinese have built a large compound for their workers and equipment just north of the village.
We drove up to the old staff compound to investigate if anyone was around, and at two in the afternoon we were also thinking we should figure out where we should camp for the night. When I pulled up a man came out to investigate our arrival, and much to both our surprise it was Simon, one of the watchmen that I worked with 10 years ago. Sure enough a few of the old staff were still there.
The project runs on a reduced staff now, but is still treating patients for kala-zar, or visceral leishmaniasis (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Visceral_leishmaniasis). The DNDI is currently working onsite conducting a clinical trial for a shorter treatment, even though treatment is now down to 17 days from the 30 days it was when I worked there.
It was nice to see things still ticking along, if maybe a little rougher than before, and really amazing that some of the same staff were still there. We got a tour of the clinic and they generously let us camp in the compound, very close to my old room where I used to live there. Us setting up the roof top tent and our camp generated great interest and everyone thought our set up was really slick.
We spent some time chatting with the staff, new and old, and the coconut wireless was working well down there because after a few hours a couple other of the old gang cropped up to say hello.
Mzungus (a white person) are not a common sight around here and we got a lot of curious looks, but unlike some places where we’ve been mobbed by children or accosted by those offering services or asking for money, here everyone had a more bemused interest, like maybe we were lost. Lots of surprised looks, lots of smiles and waves and “Habari yako” to say hello and “How are you” which must be the first thing kids are taught in English. We respond with our “mzuri sana” (I’m very good, or maybe I’m very fine) and everyone is happy.
I reminisced with the old team and also Jenny and I managed a great hike up one of the local kopjies (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Inselberg) and had a great view of the escarpment and the village. We also stocked up on fresh produce in the market, paying 20 cents US for mangos and avocados, and 10 cents for fresh made chapatis, the same price I paid ten years ago. Delicious. We made curried lentils with chapatis for dinner and sat in the old compound as forgotten stories came to mind from my time there before. It was great.
Sorry for the rambling post, it was a long road to get here.
