Back to Africa
After a 5 hour delay I finally left Istanbul. Every airline I've ever been on puts the older planes on the Kenya route, (When a plane is too old for Europe they send it to Africa) Turkish airlines was no exception. Old planes have a tendency to rattle loudly in the air and the rattling has a tendency to make babies cry (Noise cancelling headphones have been my best investment yet!).
It was 7am when I got to Kenya and if there was an air of chaos in Istanbul, there was a hurricane in Nairobi.
Border control in Nairobi airport was madness. No queues, just a vaguely marked area where people pushed to the front to try and be the first to the border police. That was the case In the "Foreign Passports" section anyway.
I had my expired Kenyan passport with me so I joined the calm and orderly "Kenyan Citizens" queue (properly marked), pretended I thought I could buy my Visa at that desk and when I was rejected, asked my fellow countryman to just bring me to the right desk. "Listen my friend, You think I want to queue in that? Just bring me to the front, I'm Kenyan" No mosh pit for me!
When in Rome, right?
My Dad picked me up from the airport and brought me straight to the house (I could write a book on the drivers in Kenya but I'll leave that for later). I was exhausted when I arrived so I went straight to bed for a few hours.
That evening we drove to a nearby place for dinner. Olepolos Country Club, they specialise in "Nyama Choma", Swahili for "grilled meat". Very Kenyan. (The picture at the top of this page was the view from the place).
Olepolos was BYOB (Yay!). It was also BYOG (bring your own goat). Nope, not a typo. Basically you bring a goat, pay a 1500 KSH (less than 15 Euro) "cover charge" and then you can slaughter and barbeque it at the restaurant.
Africa. There's no place like it.
Anyway we didn't bring a goat, we weren't that hungry. We bought a leg of goat at the restaurant's butchers and they grilled that for us.
As we were eating, some local Maasai tribespeople came close by. They were chanting and dancing. Somehow I ended up in some traditional Maasai clothing and was dancing with them.
This is still day one in Kenya by the way.
Eventually they left but one of them hung around and we shared what was left of our meat with him. In my Dad words, "If a Maasai sees meat, he won't be able to move without eating some." So we literally threw the guy a bone and he whipped out a knife and started hacking away at it. Dad's words again, "If you go to eat with Maasai and you don't bring your own knife, you'll never eat!"
I was still wrecked so after eating I went home to bed.