This morning I took off early to meet with the slum chief. He is basically in charge of distributing land, settling disputes and taking bribes. The hour was spent talking in circles. He even appeared to be drunk and slurring at one point. He clearly insinuated that a donation was going to be needed before he was willing to sell us land. There was no way I was getting involved in that shady business. Anyone who is going to put themselves first in this situation is someone I will not negotiate with, especially when there are parents who believe in the Kenya Project and are willing to sell us their land so that their kids can have an education. We were offering more than what the land is worth, and enough for them to purchase and rebuild on their own terms. It’s a win-win for all involved. I left Lucy to hammer out the details with the land owners and I prepared to head to the Muslim Coast for the weekend.
Joel is our new taxi driver, as the other became unreliable. He has a wife and a myriad of girlfriends. That’s just how it is done here. He doesn’t hit on us, which is nice. Marrying a white woman here is the ultimate goal and they don’t try to hide that fact from us. It’s annoying and degrading. When you find someone willing to respect you, especially a taxi driver, you hold on tight. Joel is fantastic.
We rarely go into the city these days without hitting the Nairobi “Dairy Queen.” Today we met a really cool guy there that is serving with the Peace Corp in Kenya. That is something I totally would have loved to do, but they don’t offer that program in Canada. It seems like a really impressive program. He totally recommends it to anyone who is interested.
Everyone here is either really old or really young; there is not much in-between. They don’t really cater for anyone that would need any sort of physical assistance like ramps or escalators. You either have to be young or older and physically fit to have any fun here. You would think that more people my age would be taking advantage of the safaris, mountain hiking, et cetera. I wonder where everyone is going instead. I always approach vacations in terms of what do I have to see before I have kids or get old. Some places, like Kenya, have time limits.
The train station is located across the road from the old US embassy that was bombed in the 1990s. It has been transformed into a beautiful park for anyone who wants a chance to get out of the hustle and bustle of the city. It reminded me of the first time I went to see Ground Zero after 9/11 – eerie and silent, almost peaceful in any other circumstances. Knowing that we would soon be working for the government, it really hits home how wonderful, yet dangerous, this opportunity is. These people were just doing their job and they paid the ultimate price for it. It makes me much more aware that I need to be on guard all the time. Sadly, the world probably won’t get any safer.
Toilets here are pretty scary and the train station is no exception. After a round of gross curry I was forced to find one and use it. The smell alone made me gag, but the curry made me absolutely nauseous. There was no toilet paper to boot. I was holding my breath and on the verge of passing out when I finally made it to cleaner air. I think I lost brain cells in there. I thought China was bad but there is no comparison – squatters here are out of control.
The trains here are really old. They were built during the Colonial period in the early 1920s. I don’t think they have been renovated since. We were put in second class, which basically is a soft sleeper in China – two sets of bunk beds with a table in the middle. They were comfortable but basic.
The train broke down after a minute, and to pass the time a man came out and played a crazy xylophone. Every time we had to wait for anything he came out to crank out a tune. It’s bad enough that it is hot and smelly, you’re not helping. It’s no Kenyan Idol that’s for sure.
Whenever I go on vacations I always bring books about the place or motivating books to inspire me. On this trip I brought Lonely Planet Kenya, The End of Poverty: Economic Possibilities for Our Time and The Book of Mormon. It has been amazing having time to read. I’ve learned so much about how the world works and what role we should play in it.
I went to bed totally happy, but was startled when I woke up soaking wet. Some “mystery water” flew in the window and all over me when we were on a curve in the railroad. The only possibilities are that someone threw water in my window from off the tracks, someone flushed the toilet and it came up from under the train into the window, or someone in a cabin ahead threw water out the window and it went into our cabin. All options are totally gross. There was nothing to do but wipe my face and go back to sleep. Yuck!
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