The Long Goodbye

The last few days have been a mere formality - waiting for my plane to arrive. Nathan was able to change his flight so that he would go home a day before me and so last night was our final night together here in Africa. It was a lucky break for Nathan because he feels (and looks) terribly sick. But that didn't stop him from going out for a final drink or two at the nearest pub.

It was our final salute to this continent and a surprisingly good time. We planned on having just one but one turned into four or five. Who's really counting? Nathan's Bowels (get it?) held up well enough for him to brave a few beers and we smoked a cigar, something we had been planning to do for the last 10 weeks. It was a nice moment that was a fitting farewell to a very good trip to Africa. Nathan and I reminisced over cheep beer while listening to Tupac's California Luv get mixed with Backstreet Boys in what was probably the worst DJ'ing performance I have ever witnessed. Pair that with the big screen TV's showing 12 year old womens Karate compeition and... well... welcome to Africa. I really don't get the entertainment industry out here. I really think that there is a market here waiting to get exploited by some creative minds. Topsy, if you are reading this, get started.

While Nathan grabbed his bags I hailed him a cab and soon enough he was off. Our journey together was over.

I had a bit of energy so I decided to go out for a bit and just relax with my thoughts. I found a club that was playing some good American Rock N Roll and posted up for about 45 minutes.

SHORT RANT: It is an "African-American" thing to like Hip Hop. In Africa, the most common music is reggae, followed closely by Pop, Rock, and even a bit of country... seriously. Last night at the club the locals were going absolutely crazy for Linkin Park, Chili Peppers, and other Rock bands. I mean, jumping up and down, as if they were at a concert.

I mysteriously got very tired and decided to just go home and fall asleep. While walking home, I finished the cigar that Nathan and I had split and wouldn't you know it, smoking in public is a crime. Eager to tell me this were 3 "police" who quickly cornered me. It was like I was in my little bubble in my mind, walking not noticing anything, then suddenly I am cornered against a wall.

"Did you know smoking in Public is illegal in Nairobi? Come with us, you are going to jail."

I have been in Africa for too long to fall for this charade. All these jokers wanted was a small bribe which, given that I was 24 hours from my flight, I was happy to give. I knew that I had a 1000 bill a 500 bill and about 6 or 7 100 bills in my pocket. The odds were in my favor that if I just reached in my pocket, I would grab a 100 and this would all be over. So I reached in and tried to grab the 100. Of course, as luck would have it, I pulled the 1000. But I refused to give it to them. I was pulling a bit of a tough guy with them although I probably should have just run away. I tried a second time and of course, I pulled out the 500. What are the odds? I had all those 100's and of course I pull out the only big bills.

They smiled, laughed even, and took off with their 500. Back to serve and protect the streets of Nai-robbery. For the record, I was never robbed in Africa by anyone other than a police officer. This was the 3rd time that I was robbed by a cop. God bless Africa.

While at the bar I had this feeling and the correlating thought: I am 8,000 miles from everyone that I know. No one in this country, on this continent, in this hemisphere, knows my name or who I am. I am completely alone. It was a pretty interesting feeling, one that I am glad to have experienced, especially since it has only lasted for less than a day.

Today I tried to occupy my time by going to a library to read HEART OF DARKNESS but THE library in Nairobi was very old. I asked reception where I could find Joseph Conrad and she gave me a blank look. Then I asked for fiction books and she said, "oh, fiction is the 3 shelves over there." Really? The 3 shelves? 3 shelves of fiction?!? I ended up finding a few short stories by Kafka that only occupied me for about 2 hours. The rest of the day will be spent online and possibly watching... God forgive me... NEXT starring Nicolas Cage.

I am not sure whether I will write a reflective blog once I am back in the states, but there is one thing that I would like to mention. One little rant that will require you to stick with me.

While finding ways to waste time the last 4 days I have been re-reading my blogs from May and June. Especially with the early ones in Cape Town, I couldn't believe what I was reading. I was so ignorant to life here in Africa. In one blog I refer to Zulu dancers that sang in Afrikaans. It is sad because they were not Zulu's they were Xhosa's and they were singing in Xhosa. How little I knew about life here. My first few blogs were filled with misinformation and errors on my part. Harmless? Probably, but still a reflection of how little I knew. But to my credit, these things must be learned through experience. And the last 10 weeks have provided countless lessons on life in Africa, the people, and the problems.

But like most things in life, the more you learn, the more you realize that you know very little. And the more you look for answers the more questions seem to come to the surface. Each year millions upon millions of dollars are poured into Africa in aid and relief. NGO's occupy every corner of the countries that I have visited. People filled with the grandest intentions arrive willing to help a continent that is in need of a helping hand. Honorable people, often very courageous, hard working, selfless and inspired.

Now, I am too simple a mind to offer anything of significance. And I certainly don't wish to take anything away from the people that sacrifice their comforts for a far and fleeting goal. But one of the most troubling things that I take away from this experience is the seeming futility of such efforts that are so common here in Africa. Before I sound like a nihilist, what I mean is that I hoped to come to Africa and find some small answer, some small inspiration about how to help this continent. But the trek has only opened my eyes to all sorts of new questions.

It only serves to reaffirm my belief that I can only focus on the personal. I have met many people on this trip that will stay with me forever. Some, I hope, will remain in close contact for a long time to come. It is in these relationships that I find some sense of purpose. I am pretty confident that I can help many of my new friends with their personal ambitions, advise them about their current problems, and prepare them for their upcoming challenges. But I am also pretty certain that it can only be done on a personal level. Not from any religious dogma or political propoganda, but from the personal friendships that I have been able to establish.

And I am done. I still have about 6 hours before I need to find a taxi for the airport, and from there another 24 hours of "airtime" before I am home. But this is the conclusion of my 5,000 miles in Africa. Thank you to my readers. If you want to do a very cool thing, send me a comment on this blog letting me know that you have been following the posts. It would be neat to see who has actually kept up with them. I promise that when I arrive in the states, and Nathan sends me my copy of the photos, you will be treated to some amazing photos. Seriously, you will want to check back in about 2 weeks.

Tired and Buffed

We woke before sunrise and took off on our final leg back to Nairobi. We once again caught the sunrise as we drove, making it 7 straight sunrises that we saw on our 8 day trip, a sort of medallion that we boast for packing each day with at least 18 hours of adventure.

Our tires were in terrible shape, as was the engine but after calling the rental company they assured us that we must drive the car in ourselves, a stark contrast to the promise that they made when we left that they would come get us if the car broke down. We drove halfway and the hole in the side of the tire began to widen. Since we payed 20 dollars for the tubing inside the tire to reinforce it, we didn't want to risk blowing the tube so we swapped the tubing in our one blown tire with another, slightly less blown tire that we had as a spare.

Once in the city the real challenge began. Driving in Nairobi is a free-for-all, it's like Nam, there aren't any rules. Since our car stalled anytime we idled, Nathan would have to keep the car constantly moving. Whenever we could not move Nathan would pop it into neutral and rev the engine, then pop it back into gear. It was terrible for the car. We dropped off Abdi, drove across town to drop off some gear that Louise had given us, then back across town trying to find a hostel, then finally, back across town to drop off the car.

We were prepared for a fight with the rental company since we were returning a busted car, missing two tires, and covered in dirt, inside and out. In the US, this would all be fine given that they gave us a spare that didn't work, a jack that didn't work, and we called a day earlier explaining that the engine was slipping but were told to drive dangerously anyway. But this is Africa. The rental guys were shocked to see the dirty car and I could tell that they were displeased. Then when they saw the condition of the engine, I knew they would try to pin it on us, regardless of the fact that this car had 220,000 kilometers on it. They called a mechanic who called a mechanic who finally called another mechanic and the final mechanic discovered that there was a problem with a sensor, a relatively minor problem. When I asked him what causes such a problem he said, "these are like light bulbs, with time, they just stop working." Not our problem right? Wrong.

First thing they did was lock us in. The guards closed the gates on us in case we decided to run away, something I had strongly considered since we paid in cash and didn't give them any significant info. Then they started finding superficial problems with the car. Like the brake pads being worn. How is that our fault? It doesn't matter. The reasoning goes, "All I ask is that you return my car the way I gave it to you." Eventually he would ask for about 50,000 Kenyan shillings, nearly double the price of the rental. I told him that it was an impossibility.

After nearly an hour of arguing I gave in to the fact that we were locked inside a guarded compound and would either be leaving with the police escorting us to jail or by paying some unfair amount. In the end, we got it down to about 220 dollars, which he argued was the price of 2 new tires and a buff. Nevermind the fact that we already paid nearly 100 dollars on tire repairs and lost 100 dollars in returning our car one day early. I wrote up a release of liability and made the guy sign it upon our paying him. My only hope now is that they find something worse wrong with the car and that they lose a lot of money on the deal. And then of course that they become infertile and their lines are removed from the gene pool. Any future travelers to Kenya, steer clear of HYPER CARS LTD.

Nathan and I made it back to our hostel and had a nice meal at hooters. Again, shops use American names but actually have nothing to do with the original, American chains. The journey was complete and had brought us nearly 2,000 kilometers in 8 days. It was a great journey filled with adventures and of course, problems and challenges. But it was certainly a highlight of a very long trek through Africa. It is a short downhill race now till Thursday night when I leave. We will spend this week in Nairobi, a very busy and modern city with a lot to offer in the way of entertainment and culture. Hopefully some photos in the next day or so, so check back!

Payin dues (revisited)

Because our car was in such bad shape, bad tires, and the engine was starting to stall whenever we idled or reversed, we decided to spend a day in a tiny town called Isiolo while we made a plan.

Isiolo was a depressing little town that was all too African. It was very poor and there were so many homeless kids in the streets, day and night, following us around asking for money or food. With so many kids, you really feel like nothing that you do will help. These kids are helpless. And we have run into situations like this everywhere we go but Isiolo seemed worst given that it was a one horse town... or one donkey town as it were. Actually there were lots of donkeys running around the streets. I woke up in the moprning and there was a donkey eating trash in front of our hostel. No joke. Does anyone own this donkey?

We threw way our meat that had been rotting for 6 days in the only dumpster in town. In Africa, people just throw their trash on the street. The streets are covered in fowl smelling trash, sometimes they burn it when the piles get too high. It is really disgusting. But what is worse is that ten minutes after we threw away our trash we saw a young boy standing inside the dumpster eating our rotten meat and eggs. It was so sad. He was literally squashing a rotten, uncooked egg into his mouth. Africa is a very sad place sometimes.

Everyone in this town sat around eating this drug leaf that made them high. I wondered why in such a poor town everyone seemed to be just laying around but our friend and road companion Abdi (slave) said, "you have not observed? These people are all sitting getting high on those leafs that they chew. By nightfall they will all be mad."

Sure enough, that is what happened. All day these people sat around in the shade eating leafs and by night time they were all walking around like madmen. One guy, a Muslim, told me that he doesn't hate Americans, just Jews and Israelis. Nathan told him that I was Israeli, which is believable since I look very Israeli with my beard, and the man laughed and sort of apologized, saying that what he meant was that "we" the Islamics, should have finished off the Israelis by now.

The best part of this slow, depressing day was going to watch a youth soccer game. Nathan had made friends with a couple of nice guys that were surely just looking for money but they were nice about it, hard working, and not pushy. Nathan had them wash our cooler (which reeked of rotten meat), change our tires, and do other odd jobs. They didn't ever ask for money but it was assumed that they would be paid. Because they were nice people Nathan gave them each 7 dollars and a book. They seemed very happy with that.

The youth soccer game was amazing. For starters, the field was all dirt with large stones and bushes spread out on the field. Players would literally have to avoid these things. Some players didn't even have cleats or shoes. It is amazing how tough these kids are. There were about 150 people gathered watching the game that took place at 4 in the afternoon, letting you know how much these people like soccer, but also how little there was going on in this town. No one was working except for the dozen or so shop owners. Everyone plays soccer out here in Africa. The kids play without shoes or a ball. They improvise a ball by getting trash and plastic and spinning it into a sort of rubber band ball. You can usually tell how old a kid is by how big a ball of trash he has. Older kids have a soccer ball sized ball that is fairly round. The younger ones have a tiny little ball with lumps all over. Poor is playing soccer barefoot in a thorny field with a ball of trash. Mom, tell the kids at the mission this next time they go outside and play soccer. I imagine it is a bit of perspective.

It is sad to see how this town spends their time getting high and drunk all day while dozens of homeless kids run around, half naked, filthy, begging for food, literally starving to death. Kids no older than 5 or 6 in some cases. The town is only one block long, maybe 5,000 people at most and at night there are anywhere from 30-100 people sleeping on the ground, most are children or women with children.

I spent most of my day here in Isiolo writing these blogs about our great adventure to Turkana. By night, we went to bed and Abdi left us, saying that he wanted to find some leaves. I was disgusted.