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.

Lake Turkana Day Six - Deja Vu

That night spent in the desert heat, cramped in the car, underneath the stars was really not that bad. The thought I kept having was how lucky we were. Had this happened on day 3, between Liongolani and Sibiloi, we might not have been found for weeks. Had it happened on Day One in Samburu, we might have been killed. So to be in this desert where occasionally cars pass through was the best of bad case scenarios.

The sun woke me up and Abdi's assurance that a car would be here by 6 was long lost. By 8 he just rolled over and said, "hmmm, they must be running late." He was so much calmer than we were. It is really pretty funny.

Finally a land rover drove up and Abdi and I loaded up the tire and hopped in the back. Since we couldn't risk our car being stolen or the stuff inside, Nathan stayed back and watched the car. I would ride 1 hour into town in the back of a truck with 7 other people, two tires, a 50 gallon container and tons of rice. Oh the things people go through in Africa as part of their daily lives.

In town I got the mzungu price for two tire repairs, about 20 dollars, and then got a ride back to Nathan. I asked the man how much it would cost for a ride and he insisted that we settle later. I told him that we settle it first but he would not. His loss.

We got back, put the tire on and then the guy, a real sleeze ball, called me over and said, "10,000." I laughed. That is 150 US dollars. Our car rental per day is 90. The petrol he used was about 7 dollars. I offered him 1,000 and he got pissed. I told him we should have settled it first. Finally we met in the middle, or at least at 2,000, way too much if you ask me but he was pissed off. I hate people that exploit other peoples problems like this.

I should note that Abdi opted to stick with us rather than take another ride to Nairobi. Partly because I think he is having fun with us but also because he is a good guy. And we are very happy to have him with us. He is a lot of fun and usually a good source of info. Usually.

We rolled into the tiny town of Marsabit where we would connect with the highway that runs from Cape Town to Cairo. However, it is not paved and it is quite a dodgy road. By 3 in the afternoon we took off en route for Isiolo, once again picking up a hitcher, a woman that Abdi knew. She gave him company and Nathan and I just listened to music. Nathan was pretty beat from driving and so I took over for the first time on the trip. I cruised us at a fast pace and soon it became dark. Abdi assured us that we would be in Isiolo by nightfall but by 6:30 (SUNDOWN) we were less than halfway. Usually he is good for info.

Keeping with tradition, about 40k's from Isiolo we heard another pop and another tire had gone. This was number 5. Fortunately, 5 minutes later a truck came, helmed by the governor of the region, accompanied by 10 men with assault rifles. He asked me how I found the country and I said I found it well. He told me not to worry and to let him know if we have any trouble ahead. Then his guys quickly and efficiently fixed our flat. The entire stop lasted less than 30 minutes.

We rolled into archers post, a small town 30k's from Isiolo and had our spare repaired by a drunk guy. We were watched by dozens more drunken guys. I met a really nice sober guy that really helped keep things okay. The drunk repair man did a horrible job and then requested 15 dollars. We offered him 4 which is the going rate, by this time we know how much a tire repair costs. He stumbled off without a fight.

Filthy, covered in dirt from head to toe, tired, and looking absolutely insane, we skidded into Isiolo and found lodging. We had a quick meal and crashed asleep. Before sleeping we all shared a laugh at the crazy adventure and our pathetic appearance. I wish we had a picture to offer. We looked like animals.

You are now caught up on the events of the last few days. I feel that I need to mention this feeling that I have that this is a sort of swan song for me. I only have one Turkana, one Africa adventure in me. And while it has been soooooo very sweet, it is the closing chapter of one life. I drove through the desert for 6 days and came out closing the chapter on a very fond set of memories. Memories that will ferment over time I am sure. In another life I would spend several years as a traveler but I really feel like this is it for me. I wish I would have come to traveling sooner. There is something great about going someplace dangerous, completely recklessly. I am sure that I will have many more adventures in my life but this is the end of this carefree, vagabond, caution to the wind of a journey.

In less than a week I will be back in the states and ready to start a new life. It is like a right of passage that could have come with graduation from college. Instead, for me, it came with 5,000 miles throughout Africa, culminating in a final trek through the desert. Although there will be more blogs ahead and more adventures, this trip is a capstone on a very interesting 10 weeks, and a very interesting 23 years.

Lake Turkana Day Five - Punctured

That morning we woke once again to Jim Ross, "this is your 5:30 wake-up call!" We said our goodbyes and followed the trucks into Sibiloi. They stopped and we kept on going. We estimated that we had just enough petrol to get us to Marsabit, the nearest town with petrol, some 400 k's away. We were prepared for a full 12 hour drive.

We got lost a few times in Sibiloi. It is really the worst national park to visit as a tourists, the roads are not marked at all. We probably went 30 k's too many to leave the park, a nearly devastating mistake given our short supply of petrol. We hoped the rest of the trip would be smoother. It wouldn't be.

The road to North Horr was marked by desert and once again we didn't see a single car. Louise mentioned that we were "very lucky" not to have had a puncture this far into the trip with the poor, tubeless tires that we had. So in the desert heat we were sweating a puncture. We reached North Horr without any problems and, as happens in all tiny towns out in the middle of nowhere, we got hounded by the locals. MZUNGU! MZUNGU!

We found a guy that needed a ride to Marsabit (atually to Nairobi) and so we picked him. His name is Abdirahman (Slave of god), or Abdi (slave) for short. I think it is really funny to go by slave but that's just me. We would be very lucky to have him with us.

The desert that we had been crossing for 3 days was only a mild desert compared to the Chelbi desert,a sandy desert that looks very intimidating. You cannot see the horizon because of the thick mirages that occur. The heat must have wore our tires and at roughly 4:30 we hit the wrong bump and POP, something burst. I opened my door and saw that our weakest tire (the one with a slow leak) had completely burst. No big deal, I thought, lets just replace it. But then Nathan said, "this ones gone too!" Sure enough, both back tires were gone. One a blowout, the other a nasty leak that would deflate the tire in about 20 minutes.

We estimated that we were 30 k's from town and might be able to make it if we changed the blowout. Nathan grabbed the jack and started going but no sooner and our jack broke. So we started digging a hole improvising a jack. It was a futile effort as the other tire had slowly leaked its way to a flat. We were screwed. We hadn't seen a car in days.

Abdi told us not to worry, that a convoy of trucks was coming tonight and that they would be able to repair the tires. I liked his confidence but it was not what I had experienced in the last few days when no one came through. We hung out till dark and then after dark until we could see some lights coming in the distance. The SOB was right. A convoy of trucks were slowly making their way toward us. I've written about how I enjoy these misfortunes when they give you opportunities to get closer to the people and this was one of those times.

The convoy showed up and the guys went to work on the tire. They repaired only one tire (the other was beyond repair) but they didn't do such a great job and after putting it back on the car we could hear another slow leak. Some suggested that we turn around and follow them into the nearest town. We refused, not wanting to backtrack and took off for Marsabit, nearly 50 k's away.

About 20 k's down and we heard it. A pop that turned into a hiss that turned into a thud. It had blown. And we would be spending the night in the desert, hoping for another truck. Thsi time, Abdi was not so certain that one would come within the next few days!

I got out and sat on the hood watching the crystal clear night sky. My thought was, in one week, I will be home with Sheila. In one week. Surprisingly, we all 3 slept in the tiny car seats and I slept just fine. Probably because of the bad sleep I had the two nights before. I woke up once when Nathan asked me to roll up my window and then again as the sun was coming up.

Lake Turkana Day Four - The Leakeys

Jim Ross woke us up with a cheerful and fatherly (if not humorous) "this is your 5:30 wake up call!" It was still dark and I had only gotten about 1 hour of sleep. No time to rest, I had to prepare myself for a busy and important day.

It began with an hour long drive along with Fred, Meave Leakey, and the two students toward the site of todays field research. The long drive provided me with time to pick the brains of the two students. Both girls were very sweet and nice and it was much easier to talk to them at first than the others. I really enjoyed the few days we spent with them.

When we arrived at the site we immediately saw how rich the site was with fossils. They are literally more common than stones! The difficulty of being a fossil hunter in Koobi Fora is not spotting fossils, but identifying which ones are worth taking. There are literally millions of fossils to choose from.

There were 4 of them and 2 of us. My thought was that I would hang back and watch as scientists did their science thing and for the most part that is what happened. But Meave was so sweat and would occasionally come and explain little things to me like why they chose this fossil and not that, and what this or that meant. With such a small group in the field, it was a very intimate setting. And as I find to be true more and more each day, people are just people. You just have to get down below the things that make seem so different.

Meave is so impressive in how she can see a tiny piece of fossil and without even picking it up identify both what part of the skeleton it is and what animal it comes from. "That's an M3 molar from a Deinotherium." I could watch her work all day, she has such an eye for fossils and is obviously smart as can be.

There were two occasions in particular that were neat. Both came when a partial fossil was exposed on the ground in fragments and Fred and Meave would begin assembling the pieces to form a very complete fossil. Then they would look at the surrounding areas and before long, a jumble of stone-like fragments became a very clear fossil. It was amazing. Meave could take a 1/4 inch piece of hip bone and know exactly where it should be placed amongst the other tiny fragments.

After about 5 hours or so we went back to camp. The field team is divided into the prospectors, made of local Kenyans that have a keen eye for fossils, and scientists like Meave that follow behind them determining what to take and what to discard. Back at camp, we had lunch and then they went back to work, this time at camp, cleaning fossils and preparing the next days field maps. It is a tedious project and you really have to love fossil hunting to do it. One half day is the extent of my fossil hunting career.

Instead of sitting and watching Habiba creating maps, I joined Louise as she took her two young daughters to the lake shore. She was very sweet in inviting me to the lake and I figured that this would be as great of an opportunity as I would ever get to pick her brain and learn about field work. It was just us two, her kids and her nanny. Not to spoil the details but we spent a couple of hours just wading in the lake and talking about fossil hunting, the area, and everything else that I wanted to know. Louise is actually very nice and very personable. It is so amazing that I could spend this time with her. It really made me feel so much better and less anxious being able to shed the formalities of field life and just talk by the lake. We watched some locals catch some fish with giant nets. Finally, on the way back, she took me to Ileret, the town, where I saw how these people live, hundreds of miles from anywhere. They ran around naked, some of them and lived in tiny bomas made of whatever materials available, cardboard, sticks, grass, etc.

That night we had dinner and I felt like we were truly welcome. Meave even commented that we were the easiest guests that they had ever had. I think that everyone enjoyed a few new faces, even though we were much different than the usual faces that come through camp.

That night I said my goodbyes to Louise. I was really glad to meet her. She asked me to keep in touch and to let her know about the progress of the story. She gave us a tire repair kit as one last little thing to help. Turns out it wouldn't be such a small token of help after all.

In the end things went pretty well. I wasn't as impressive as I would have hoped to have been but we had a great time and, well, it was like I was friends of the Leakeys. How cool is that?

Lake Turkana Day Three - Middle of Nowhere

After buying a small curio from a local we set off. I buy small curios from people that help me without expecting return or at least without pushing the "pay me" issue. This guy helped me try to find a freezer for our spoiling meet and so I bought a little container/drum from him. We never found a cooler and so our meet spoiled. About 40 dollars wasted!

We were on the road as the sun peaked over the horizon. It quickly became even more desert than before. I have great photos to share. You could look for 100 k's in each direction and not see another soul. We went this entire day without seeing another car on the road. Not one!

In the morning the desert has a cool breeze that feels perfect. By about 10 it is hot and sweaty. My left arm is really dark!

Besides the occasional shepherd that hangs out around the small rivers and water holes, we didn't see anyone or anything all morning. It was so much fun to be lost in the middle of nowhere in the desert of Northern Kenya. While looking at a map I realized how close I was to Darfur, Northern Uganda, and even a short flight from Iraq. It is strange to be so close to these places.

We arrived at the gate to Sibiloi around 1. Sibiloi national park is a large area of land made secure by Richard Leakey in an attempt to preserve the many fossils in the area as well as the diminishing population of wildlife in the area including Lions and Leopards. Elephants and Rhinos used to call the land home but poachers have eliminated them from the park.

The park is so far from civilization that no one ever goes there. So the gate guy was shocked to see us drive up as tourists. For the next 3 days, we would be the only visitors in the 100k by 100k park. The guard had to call his boss to figure out how to fill out the proper paperwork for visitors. The boss, a soldier, arrived with his South African model assault rifle. Nathan and him talked guns and military for a while. It was nice, even though I hate guns and the military. But it seemed to strike a chord with these two. It is so neat to interact with people that live such different lives than you do, especially when you find the common ground.

After an hour they finally wrote us a receipt and let us in to the park. We started seeing some neat wildlife like hippos and some beautiful antelope. We drove to Koobi Fora, the site of Richard Leakey's expeditions and I recognized some things from books that I have read. We paid 30 dollars for a tour of the museum that promised fossils from the site but to our surprise it was nothing more than small room with silly displays. We were soooooo pissed. The guy at the desk had no idea about anything to do with Koobi Fora. I would later lean that Richard handed the museum over when he went into wildlife conservation and that it would be taken over by incompetent idiots that can't get their act together.

As we approached the camp at Ileret where I would meet Louise Leakey, I became very nervous. I always get nervous with these types of things but especially now since I was exhausted, filthy, and showing up 2 days before I had said I would. We found the camp and told the guards (armed guards) that we should be expected by Louise and the team. They walked us down to the camp and there stood Meave Leakey and the team. She didn't smile but instead gave me this look of, who are you and why are you here. I told her that I was a writer and she said, very matter of fact, yeah, we were expecting you but not until two days. I just said, yeah, sorry, we got here faster than we thought.

When Louise arrived she gave us a quick tour but seemed very distracted and a bit annoyed. i wasn't sure if it was me or just with something else but it made me feel very anxious. The camp was made up of the smartest, most established scientists in the world. There were two students that were there as part of a grant. One a Masters program student from NYU, the other a PHD student from Harvard. Combined with Meave, Louise, Jim Ross, and others, these people were very accomplished.

We were warned about scorpions and snakes and then escorted to our beautiful canvas tent. Then told that dinner was in an hour. Were they really cooking dinner for us? I caught my breath in our tent for a moment and then went down to sit and chat with Sarah and Habiba, the two students, while waiting for dinner. Eventually we would walk down to watch the stars for a while. In the desert, the stars are better than anywhere I've seen in the world. We were joined by a joy of a man named Jim Ross. He is an old man that was there testing out a new method for dating rocks and fossils. But he was the only one of the senior crew to be so warm to us from the start. He was genuinely interested in who we were and why we were there.

Dinner was served and it was an elaborate meal. The Leakey's employ local workers to serve them, creating jobs and getting the local community involved. It is really cool the way they pay so much care to the Kenyan people and the people of Ileret.

Meave sharply asked me, "So, what is... why are you here?" I was on the spot. I knew that meeting these people would be intimidating but it was something I wanted to put myself through. So, choking up, I began. I explained that I was a screenwriter, from Hollywood, and working on a story about human evolution. I explained the rough idea of the story but I am afraid it came out much less focused than what I really have laid out for the script. But they all seemed fairly interested. All of these people are scientists, and academics. Like most academics, they are a bit quirky and not the easiest to talk to. They often speak very matter of fact and employ a very scientific vernacular.

I would grade my effort that first evening as a C-. There were a few awkward moments and I did not do a good job of making myself seem worthy of being there. But that is the pressure I put on myself.

As I laid in bed that night I couldn't sleep. I woke up every 5 minutes, eventually falling into a panic attack. It was the first time that I have ever had this happen. I had this painful feeling of anxiety and this fear of making a fool of myself. It was undoubtedly spurred on by a number of things. For one, I was aware that I was by far the least intelligent person at the dinner table, something I have never felt. Second, I blew my opportunity to make a strong first impression. While I didn't do or say anything awful, I didn't inspire anyone or gain anyone's interest in my story. Lastly, and probably most importantly, the medicine that I've been taking for Malaria prevention has a side effect of anxiety and depression. The entire night would be filled with sweat and heavy breathing and this knot in my heart like I was a kid that had been crying so hard as to wear myself out.

Lake Turkana Day Two - The Volcano field of Mt. Kulal

We woke up before sunrise and debated whether we had enough petrol or not. We had a full tank and 60 spare liters in containers in the back of our SUV. Since we still had about 700 kilometers before we would be able to fuel up, we weren't sure if it would be enough. We went to the petrol station to see what they thought and they let us know that we had a flat tire. Sure enough, the back right tire was very low and needed repair. So much for leaving before sunrise. It was a bit of a blessing in disguise.

2 hours and 3 dollars later we had a repaired tire when a guy asked us where we were going. After the killings the night before, I didn't want to tell complete strangers our whereabouts so I said to Nairobi. He said, "too bad you weren't going to Lake Turkana cause there are 2 French rastas that need a ride." We said, "Sweet, we will go that direction then!"

These two French Rastas (one guy had dreadlocks) came walking over and sure enough, we headed our direction. They could offer about 15 dollars a piece for the full day drive. We would enjoy the company so 15 dollars would be enough. Plus, extra people means more safety.

The day was great. No further problems. The landscape slowly became more and more desolate. The entire day we would see about 6 vehicles. We passed through a huge valley that stretched for as far as the eyes could see. It reminded me of south park Colorado. In the valley we saw wild ostrich, which, along with the camels we would see later was really funny and interesting to me. Wild ostrich? No way!

Further and further and it became more desert. One of the highlight of the trip was the feeling you get when you are hundreds of miles from the nearest town or village and you come across a Samburu, dressed in red paint, shukas, a spear, a mohawk, countless beads and decorations, just walking his ground. It is so strange and wonderful to see these people, completely different than anything you can imagine. I am told that young Samburu boys will go out and tend camels or sheep, alone in the desert, for weeks at a time. I can only imagine how lonely it must be.

We came to a small town, the last one before our night stop in Liongolani, and to our surprise there were old women waiting by the road with jewelry. Only 4 or 5 cars per week could pass through this remote village and yet these old women would wait by to sell things.

After this village it would be 100 k's and 4 hours before we arrived. The landscape became Martian as volcanic boulders the size of bowling balls began to liter the fields. The road was covered in sharp volcanic stones and it was a bit worrisome to drive through the hot desert thinking about a puncture. Finally, we got our first glimpse of the lake. It was beautiful. They call it the Jade sea but at this moment it was blue surrounded by a giant desert. Old volcanoes formed perfect cylinder around the lake.

We climbed slowly down the volcano field toward the lake. There wasn't a single tree anywhere in sight. As we got lakeside we saw a few Turkana people (they look similar to Samburus) pulling in nets and doing their daily things. The women go topless, and cover themselves in red paint. Some started running after the car asking for food or money. It was very sad. I have no idea how anyone can survive out here in the desert. There is very little to sustain them. We would later learn that the staple foods are camel milk and camel blood.

We gave 2 Turkanas a ride into town, about 10 k's. One, a woman that was topless. I have a great photo of our French guys in the back seat with this topless Turkana woman. She didn't speak any English except "give me money." I gave each of them a piece of bread which they devoured. The girl left paint on the back seat of our car. They both smelled horrible.

We arrived in the tiny town of Liongolani, a small village surrounded by palm trees. It was a tiny oasis in the desert. We would stay for the night but not until buying petrol at double price that it was in Maralal. Lesson learned, never cut it close with petrol. We would part with the Fenchies and thh next day would be all alone in the most literal sense.

Lake Turkana Day One - The beginning of an adventure

At 6:30 AM we left the comfort of our dingy hostel bed for the open road en route for Lake Turkana's North Eastern shores. We left early because we wanted to make good time, possibly arriving in a town called South Horr by nightfall. We didn't know what to expect of the road that we would take, only that it was going to be remote, difficult to navigate, and potentially dangerous. Our car rental salesman, Hallelujah, was convinced that the car we had was safe, the equipment that he rented us worked, and that we would have no problems. Of course, I never believed him.

The first several hours we spent on a tarmac road through some fair but not breathtaking scenery. The highlight was coming across the Great Rift Valley, a giant rift that overlooks a seemingly endless valley below. With hardly any traffic on the road, Nathan and I cruised out of town and into the more remote areas of Southern Kenya.

By early afternoon we reached the small town of Rimuruti, where the tarmac ended. It would be 5 days before we saw it again. We were greeted by a giant step back in time as the villages became more traditional and the people more colorful. The road was decent for a dirt road and every half hour or so we would see another car passing by. It was such an exciting and wonderful feeling, being in the middle of nowhere in Kenya. Little did we know that each kilometer would bring us further and further from civilization, and further from safety!

About 1:30 I noticed some large animals on the left side of the road about 200 meters out. We stopped and saw that they were Zebras! We had seen them before in protected parks like Kruger, but to see them out on the range in the wild, in this unprotected area really gave us the feeling of being in Africa. We would see hundreds of giraffes, zebras, antelope, and other animals walking right on this deserted road in front of us. It was amazing.

Near 3:30 we ran into a school bus that had braved the dirt road. This 50 year old bus carrying dozens of teenage girls somehow made it this far on the rough road but had broken down in need of some minor repairs. We offered our tools and the driver thanked us. The he told us to wait for him. He said that just hours before a group of "Texas cowboys" had raided the village ahead and killed 16 people, including children, stealing goods and cattle. The fear in his eyes was very real. "We will be safer as two than as one," he says. Our excitement quickly became fear. Later we would learn that the slaughter was a clash between Pokot and Samburu people and that it was a tribal thing, never ever directed at tourists.

When we arrived in the town of Maralal it was approaching nightfall and we decided that we would stay here for the night, not wanting to drive at dark. We ate at the Hard Rock Cafe. No not thee Hard Rock Cafe. Just some tiny disgusting restaurant that served some type of unidentifiable meat, either a reddish fish or a pinkish beef. In Africa, you always see stores that have popular names like "Wal-Mart" even though it is just a small local hut, or "Applebees" even though it is just the same as every other restaurant.

We camped out at the safety of a place called Yari Camel Club, a nice hostel 3 k's from town. There we met some local Samburus, one of the many traditional groups of people in Northern Kenya. Most were getting wasted at the bar. Samburus are like Maasai in that they are tall, skinny, wear red and traditional decorations. But the Samburus seem even more traditional. More wild.

For 2 US Dollars we were able to sleep in our tent, outside beneath Billions of stars and the sounds of Northern Kenya's plains. It was a full day of beautiful drives and no problems! That would quickly change.

Mimi Ni Maasai

After a few sub par experiences leading to a few sub par blogs, allow me to pick up the tempo a little bit and fill you in on some great adventures!

To begin, the Maasai people are some of the coolest in the world. I first learned about them a few years back and thought "wow, it would be cool to get to meet them." So when I was planning this trip, I made sure to mark down Arusha, a Maasai hub, as a place to stop and experience their culture. Arusha is known mostly for being the base camp for Tanzania's Safari curcuit. The serengeti and Ngorogoro only 50 K's away, host some of the best wildlife veiwing in the world. Everybody goes to tanzania to visit one of the many parks at the doorstep of Arusha. Consequently, the prices are ridiculously high and out of the range for yours truly. It is a new goal of mine to return here one day and visit one of these famous parks.

But our trip to Arusha was all about the Maasai. We arrived late at night and stayed in a real hole in the wall place named "menjas hotel" 20 Meters away from "Menja's hotel," and "Menja's hotel." We met a guy named "biggie" who is no doubt one of the millions of scams in Arusha who sold us a cultural experience tour with the maasai. Our original plan was to go to the maasai market, talk with some maasai and offer money in exchange for letting us hang out with them for a few dyas, but we were pressed for time and so "biggie" took advantage.

We met our guide, Godfrey and to my surprise, he was not like the maasai that we saw in Dar es Salaam, dressed in red blankets (shukas) and with piercings and weapons. Instead, he was a modern "larusa" maasai. Basically a mixture of traditional culture and modern ways of life. The larusa farm and dress modernly and seem like almost every other group of people in Africa but still keep a few traditions, like the circumcicion ritual that takes place when a child is 15!

One of the things that you read about the maasai is how they fight to preserve their culture. So when our first day involved a walk through a very modern neighborhood and a very modern guide, I was a bit worried that this would not be what I hope for. Speaking with Godfrey I learned that he, and many larusa's are now Christian, thanks to the several groups of missionaries that come through preaching the gospel. Add this to the mcDonalds t-shirt he was wearing and you can see where I was disappointed. The problem I have is in the way that our guide, Godfrey, talks about the maasai culture. Their creation stories and folklore is told with a hint of shame and embarrassment. I find these stories very interesting but Godfrey almost has a bit of shame, quickly letting me know that he no longer believes these and that he is christian. For me, it seems out of place for a maasai to be christian, at least culturally. Maasai have such a different way of life, or at least the nomadic, traditional ones do. To show how the cultures clash, I saw several signs that read "Mgaga wangu ni Yesu" (Jesus is my witch doctor). It is upsetting for me to think that a culture is ashamed of their culture and religion. But that was the feeling that I got.

But let me say that Godfrey is one of the joys of our trip. He was not only a guide, but a true friend. I hope to keep in contact with him for a long time and hopefully see him again, either in Tanzania or in the US.

The next day Godfrey guided us to a crater that was very lovely but the highlight of the day and the trip was going to the maasai market, also called the colorful market because of the sea of red that you see. Maasai wear red shukas and so everything is red. Nathan and I decided that the maasai look so cool in their shukas that we had to go ahead and get some for our selves. It started with buying a sword (machete) for about 5 dollars. Then we went and got 3 shukas each (the typical amount that one wears), a belt and a stick.

Immediately, we were the hit of the market. Where before people gave us cold stares (the maasai are intimidating people), now everyone, old men and women, children, everyone, greeted us with enthusiasm. They were so happy to see that we too could dress as maasai. I told everyone "mimi ni maasai, mimi ni morani." I am a maasai, i am a warrior. And they all love it. Old women would come to us and sing for us, encouraging us to dance and also jump. Maasai men jump to see who can get the highest. For a good 5 hours, everyone came to talk to us, in some cases, followed us around. They were very pleased that we embraced their culture so.

It was truly a highlight of the trip. A much needed one after the sub par days in Zanzibar (although I am not complaining, I have nothing but fun, if not bitter sweet memories). The maasai are truly beautiful people. Despite the fact that the women make holes in their ears big enough to fit a baseball, they shave their heads, tattoo their faces, and neither the men nor the women brush their teeth, they are still beautiful. It is truly the feeling that drives you to understand that our differences are what make us beautiful. I could spend a year with the maasai, I enjoy them so much.

The following day Godfrrey took me on a hike to see the colobus monkeys. Nathan could not go because of blisters on his feet. I dressed in full maasai gear. Godfrey, like all maasai, is very tall and very thin. Probably 6'3" with a 26 inch waist. Together, we walked at a ridiculously fast pace, covering 5 miles in about1.5 hours, mind you that it is uphill, on a rough trail. When we got to the top of the hill where the colobus are, there were many maasais and the monkeys were no where to be seen. So Godfrey led me into the jungle. We would have to use my machete (how cool is that?) just to blaze a trail. Finally we saw them. They are amazing animals, monkeys that are black and white. They look like skuns only really hairy and they jump around the tops of trees. No pictures to show but it was great to get to see them.

We walked back, again to the amusement of the maasai as they saw their mzungu maasai morani. Godrfry told me that the women are "tempted" by me. It was fun!

Again, the trip is something that I will always remember. A perfect guide, a great experience and millions of great memories. It was once again sad to leave a place that we got so used to and enjoyed so much but that is the theme of our trip.

We took a bus from Arusha to Nairobi and I thought for sure I was on my death bus. The roads were the worst we've seen and the driver went 120 kph the whole way, passing trucks by going offroad which to be honest was as good as the main road). We would speed up for 40 meters and then slam on the brakes for a peed bump, over and over again. It was crazy. Once I hit my head on the roof because we hit a bump so ahrd.

We arrived and started planning for Lake Turkana, the alst great adventure of the trip, and to our surprise, were told that it would take at least 10 days round trip. since the famous scientist, Louise leakey, told me that I must be gone by the 15th, we will have to leave ASAP. So, without further announcement, Nathan and I will truly be in the bush, on the greatest adventure of our lives, beginning in just a few hours.

I am sorry that I cannot say more about it but I encourage you to research koobi fora and sibiloi national park to find out where we are going. We rented a rav4 and will be driving off road for about 1000 k's. Only a compass and a map as our guide. If you think of us in the next few days, know that we are probably somewhere in the desert taking the adventure of our young lives. Don't expect a blog for the next 10 days.

Lots of love to family and friends. I will enjoy your emails, messages and prayers.

Update

All it said was:

"Dear Adam, Unfortunately Dr. Leakey will not be available in July."

And my hopes were shattered.

Not much has happened since the last blog beyond reading, writing, and researching. I sat on the deck for the ferry ride back, right on the front of the boat, and got drenched by waves. It was nice because it was so hot outside and the water is crystal clear.

The drive up from Dar es Salaam to where we are now in Arusha was beautiful. One of the more breathtaking moments was driving along side Mt. Kilimanjaro. The mountain is very impressive. 19,000 feet basically coming up from sea level. It is VERY tall and very beautiful. It is the only mountain around so it stands out, rising from the plains.

We will be spending the next 3 days with the Maasai people, in their village. To learn mroe about these people see the link on the right.

Bad times

So much has happened since the last blog that it will be very difficult to fill you in on everything. But let me begin, and trust me, so many crazy stories, I swear you wont believe it all.

The first thing we did in Zanzibar was swim in the Indian Ocean. The water comes down from the equator which makes it some of the warmest water in the world. It is really very nice. But the first night we stayed in Stone Town, which is the "urban" piece of the island, and anything urban in Africa often also means filthy. The beaches were very narrow and honestly, not much to look at.

Our hostel was 200 meters from the beach but it would take us 20 minutes to find our way. Stone Town has got to be the most interesting city I have ever seen. The streets are only about 5 feet wide and every building is conected to its surrounding buildings (no spaces). On top of that, the streets are all windy and fragmented so the small city is literally a maze. I should bring you the map of Stone Town, it takes you a few minutes just to find your way out of the center on a map!

We went out after dark and walked down to the market place. There were thousands of people, probably 30% tourists, enjoying street cooked seafood and local dishes. It was really good but everything in Zanzibar is very expensive. There is no such thing as a good deal. We ran into some people that we met in Malawi and we were excited that we were going to get to hang out some more. That first night was fun but very melo because we knew that the next day was going to be big since there was a "full moon party" on the north side f the island. We walked home and got lost and Nathan asked a guy where "Jambo guest house" was. Jambo means hello, and the guy just kep saying "Jambo!" with a big smile, thinking Nathan just kept saying hello to him. It was hilarious.

The next morning we arranged to rent mopeds and ride around the island. We got up and around and told the moped guy to meet us at our hostel at 8. He arrived at 8:30, took our money and then went to get the bikes. He returned at 10 but our friends (the ones from Malawi) wanted to join and so we had to wait for one of the most annoying girls in the world to get her moped. She swore that she had riddin one before but when her bike arrived the first thing she did was crash it into the curb after riding it for about ten feet. I knew that we would be babysitting her the entire time.

Finally, at noon, we set off. Now, to drive this heap of junk I would have to teach myself bpth how to ride a motorcycle and also use a clutch (it was a 4 speed) all while driving for the first time on the left side of the road. In africa, roads are wide enough for two cars (one in each drection) but the people manage to make it a 4 lane free for all. Within 30 minutes of stalling, jerking around, and nearly crashing, I had the biggest scare of the trip. I went to make a right turn and as I turned right the car behind me passed me on the right side. I began to turn as it whizzed by at about 80 kph. I was literally 2 inches from the car. I had to pull over and take a deep breath. I was 2 inches from a very messy accident.

The first 2 hours were very nerve racking. Nathan had teased me about not knowing how to ride a motorcycle but from the start I was much better at it than him. He kept salling and could never get his bike to start. I thought that was really funny.

After we left the busy part of the city, things calmed down. The road became completely vacant and the scenery was beautiful. I am not the type of guy that gets off on adrenaline sports or things like moped riding but it was fun enough to see this island. If it were just me I would have taken more time to just explore the beautiful landscape and villages, instead of racing passed them at lightning s[peed. But oh well.

The island is smaller than oahu but we spent most of the day trying to figure out where we were. Right before nightfal we arrived at our new hostel in the north. We had to stay 3 k's from the full moon party becausse accomdation was sold out everywhere else. It would prove to be a real drag. We rode one bike (dumb and dumber style) over toward the beach with the party and it was 100 times better than our beach and 100,000 times better than stone town. Actually, it was picture perfect. White sand, beautiful resorts, clear water, calm water, palm trees, it was beautiful. And there were young people everywhere. We were very excited.

We ate dinner and met some canadians that invites us over for some hookah. It was a good 2 or 3 hours of interesting conversations. The canadians were muslims, there was a jewish brit and then myself to offer some christian theology. Of course, I always enjoy religion convesations. And these people seemed to as well.

Around 11 or so we headed over t the party and started tossing back a few beers. I only had 3 the whole night but it was enough to get me dancing (just a bit). Nathan somehow got smashed and couldn't stand up straight. We partied until about 3:30 and then started going back. Our friend was going to drive us back but his car was blocked by some asshole that doesn't know how to park properly. So we went back to our friends' room to make a plan. We feel asleep but when they all came back to go to bed we were kicked out. We hired a taxi back for 10 bucks and then when we arrived Nathan realized that he forgot the key. I was so pissed. The hostel didn't have a backup key and we had no way of getting back there. It was 3 k's the way the crow flly's but probably 7 k's on the road. I was so angry that I just went to the beach and layed down. I got bitten by 100 mosquitos. Nathan went walking (in his drunkenness) rtying to right his mistake. I'm not sure what happened but he rreturned with blood on his legs. By 6 the sun was starting to come up (that gave me about 1 hour of mosquito bitten sleep) and then it was enough. Nathan said that he was sober enough to ride the moped over (on a 4wd road) to get the key. It took about an hour and a half but finally he arrived, like don quixote, with the key. I was filthy, mosquitos had feasted on me from head to toe, and I just crashed on my bed. I woke up at 11 and it was time to get out of there. I was in such a bad mood.

We went and grabbed a bite to eat but not before Nathan's moped broke down. We had to walk it about 1k in pouring rain. We were completely soaked. I'm not sure what happened while he went to retreive the key but whatever it was, his bike was never the same. We had to take it to a mechanic and wait for him to fix it. We ate lunch at a restaurant, getting attention from everyone since we were soaked and looked pathetic (once again I was wearing the same outfit for 4 days). The mechanic fixed the bike and we were off. After driving about 2 k's we were stopped by one of the many roadblocks. Only this time, the cop found some superficial flaw with my license, an "offense" and was threatening to write a ticket. Then he mentioned bribe. We offered 5,000 (about 5 bucks) and he said to just act like we dropped itin case someone was watching. I was so pissed at this S.O.B. He was an insult to the human race.

We were off but shortly after my bike ran out of gas. There aren't gages so we had no idea how much was leftt. I had to sit at the side of the road while nathan fetched some gas. It was about 30 minutes or so.

After that we were off again and once again we ran into a roadblock. This cop was even more of a prick. Another superficial problem with the bikes and he took the keys and our licenses. He told us that he was an honest man and that he doesn't take bribes, but... if we were willing to give him some money he would pay the ticket. What a nice guy, huh? It's not a bribe it's a payment. We offered 5,000 and he laughs, not nearly enough. It is all we have. After about 30 minutes of interrogation, and mind you that this guy is uneducated, can't talk straight, think straight, or even speak english, he lets us go for 5,000. 20 minutes later the clutch on my moped broke. My bike went down like a ship in sight of land. Just 1 k from our hostel. I walked it the rest of the way.

I can't explain how frustrating this trip to zanzibar was. It had so much potential and it was all wasted. What's worse, it was by far the most expensive leg of the trip. By far. This blog is too long and i am getting upset just remembering these things. Hopefully I cheer up by tomorrow.