Nothing is Easy in Nairobi
So it rained most of the night, and I shouldn’t take pleasure in this, but it did make the $50 for the two nights seem like better value!
I had booked an appointment to get my legs waxed, at 10am, aside from that I had little plans for the day. I looked at ordering a taxi to the salon, and it was about 1000shillings, which I wasn’t prepared to pay. So I tried to walk. I miscalculated/was under motivated, and so only left at 8.30/8.45. I had the route on Googlemaps on my phone, so set out into the drizzle. The house itself is lovely, but I suspect the are we are in is not he most lucrative. Within 10mins of walking I found myself in what I can only assume is the Western Nairobi slum.
The route took me down a valley and up the other side. The valley hillsides were filled of corrugated tin roofs, and very small shacks. There was a one way street running through the middle, and the accommodation fell away on either side. Given the time of day, and that it was Sunday, and that it was raining, the street were surprisingly full of people. There were blackened houses, where people were making and selling charcoal, in tiny little buckets. A lot of green ‘Mo Pesa’ bits and bobs/Kenyan newsagent equivalents. Music emanating from behind walls, with Church related names painted on the concrete. Chickens sheltering from the rain. Men (and women) perched on stools, over a flame heated pan of hot fat, rolling balls of dough in their hands before dropping them into the oil - savoury dough balls. Stalls with times and details of UK football matches chalked up on a blackboard, with 30 shillings written beside each match - they were showing the matches later that day and charging for viewing. A man sharpening a knife with a modified bike wheel - the bike wheel was powered by a pedal which he pumped with his foot, this then spun a grinder to sharpen the knife. A tiny brick works (all of about 20m square, if that).
I reaslied at about 9.30 that there was no way I would make it in time, walking. When I check Uber the price of a taxi had gone up, despite my being 5km closer! I saw a woman paying a man on a motorbike, so approached him He would charge me 300shillings to go to Westgate, and he had an umbrella. The roads were pretty quiet, and he took numerous shortcuts - driving on the wrong side of the road in one way systems and then cutting across pedestrian crossings…but we got there in time. Pretty similar experience to at home, apart from that she only had two appointments for the day and so was trying to up sell.. I was tempted by the massage, but couldn’t justify the expense! Feeling very relaxed I went next-door to the shopping centre.
Not quite the centre I had envisaged. It was pretty small. It did provide cleanliness, warmth and Western familiarity. I treated myself to a Subway cookie, latte and ham and cheese bagel.
I had actually been dreaming of carrot cake for 2 days, but came across the Subway cookie before the coffee shop, and didn’t have room for them both! It was nice to take some time out, and also to have some mental space from the tour. I will miss having company, and easy company, when I return home…a bit like when you leave uni and no longer have a large social circle and variety of conversation on tap….however it is nice to get away from it at times. There was also a foreign exchange, so I got some USD out, although I have a feeling I didn’t get enough.
I was in search of fruit, and made a 7km trek across town to a Carre Four - only to discover it was a new Carre Four and didn’t yet have a fruit and veg department! I had to console myself with enjoying the supermarket experience, and purchased some raisins and chocolate. I have developed a very bad chocolate addicaiotn - only satisfied by a tablespoon of nutella at breakfast, repeated at lunch, and then one or two chocolate bars after dinner. It is not a good habit, and I will really struggle to break it. Not convinced it is good from me mentally either. I justify my nutella consumption by telling myself others are probably consuming similar amounts, it is just less conspicuous as it is on bread or a banana, rather than on a spoon.
By the time I was done at Carre Four the four o’clock heavens had opened. My phone had also died. I couldn’t remember the address of the accommodation and so had to find an apple stockist to charge my phone for 15mins! I also realised at some point over the afternoon that I couldn’t remember taking my bike shoes out of the front seat of the taxi, the night before. I messaged David, who checked in my room, and confirmed (but didn’t let me know) that they were in fact, not there. With insufficient money for a taxi back, I went with the motorbike option again.
The driver wasn’t sure where to go, and I showed him the map. 'How much', I asked. 'How much you pay,' he said. '300?' 'No it is too far, 500. Get on.’ And we were off. This time the roads were busy. It was scary. I had no helmet. It was like a video game, or a roller coaster. but more scary. I definitely had my eyes closed at times. We were driving at 50km/h between the two lanes of traffic going in opposite directions.
That in itself is one thing. The other thing was the other motorbikes doing the same thing, but in the opposite direction. Not far, I counselled myself. And then we turned up at the wrong accommodation! He didn’t know where he was going. He carried on past it, and down a dirt track.. The bike was slipping and sliding. The track just stopped.
He seemed very trust worthy, I thought. Supressing the thoughts about being a white female, who obviously doesn’t know her way around, and is likely to have cash/money…sitting on the back of a motorbike with an unknown youngish male. I didn’t need to worry. My dying phone managed to direct us…well I managed to direct us, from the back of the bike, with my eyes semiclosed, and rapidly decreasing battery levels. When we arrived I went to pay him the 500, luckily for him he only had 400 change for a 1000shilling note. I don’t believe him for a minute, but i’ feel I had no choice, and so had to pay 600. Atleast I was home, and it had been entertaining if nothing else.
I walked into the house to find David and Pamela sitting at the kitchen table, and Pamela on the phone. The missing shoes. So David, bless him, when he had got home, had checked to see if my shoes were there. Having found them absent he then found the phone number for the Uber driver, and Pamela rang him. Easy. No. He was 100km/2hours away and wouldn’t be back until 6am tomorrow morning. He would need compensation to come back tonight. He would come back and we would ring him in 2 hours. We rang him later. This time he was drunk and unable to drive, so we would need to meet him somewhere. We declined. At this point I felt it was unlikely I would get my shoes (and Garmin watch which was in a shoe) back. I decided it wasn’t the end of the world, yes I would be slower and maybe less comfortable, but I could cycle in trainers. The saga continued with multiple phone conversations over a 4 hour period. Eventually he turned up. We were all very suspicious of him, his every chaining story, and varying levels of coherency. The three of us traipsed out in the rain, I had hidden my phone and had taken limited cash, just in case! He was sitting in the drivers seat, his mate in the passenger seat. Pamela reckoned she could smell alcohol. My shoes were in the back, he said. I wasn’t going to lean into the car and asked him to pass me them. He passed one over, I checked it. Watch present. He took a long time to pass the other. I had them back! Now for payment. He had wanted 6000shillings ($60US), but had settled on 3000, plus whatever extra we felt we should give. I was a bit worried about repercussions for Pamela, given he knew where she lived. David lent me 3000, and I added in 5USD. The driver wasn’t impressed but had no option. He was concerned about getting a bad review on Uber. All in all a successful outcome, but a stressful evening. I was so grateful to both David and Pamela for sorting it out for me, without me even being there to begin with.
Last saga of the day was trying to order pizza. Long story short. Three of the phone numbers didn’t work. The one that did work cut out because I ran out of credit. Tried again on Davids phone, replaced the order and again it cut out. Pamela rang. The number no longer worked. She found one that did. Got through. Got put on hold for 5 mins, only to be told they no longer had my order. We placed a new one, and she said ‘Thats 1h37minutes wait.’ At 9pm on a Sunday night!! We could make a pizza quicker than that, from scratch. We retired to bed, I had some wheatabix, apple and plenty of chocolate. Was very frustrated. It took an hour of trying to oder before we called it a day.
Couldn’t live in Nairobi. Nothing is straight forward in Nairobi. Getting a motorbike home - he doesn’t know where to go. Getting something returned by taxi driver - very dodgy. Ordering pizza.
Bit worried about when I go back to reality and have to sort life out for myself again on a daily basis, not just for 24hours! (jokes)
P.s. I forgot to mention that yesterday I was overtaken by a one legged man on a fixed speed bike, with his crutches hanging from his waist....on a hill! Low point, but very impressive. He had his right leg amputated at the hip, and no prosthetic. It was am amusing and impressive sight.
