Friday morning we woke up and got ourselves ready for our first day of exploring Nairobi. Our plan was to see a few natural and cultural sites on the outskirts of the city. We headed down to the breakfast area of the Double Tree that we were staying at, and found they had a large spread of food. The buffet
included some basics such as scrambled eggs, pancakes, and waffles, but also included a decent amount of more local dishes such as samosas (lamb or veggie), yams, cassava root, arrow root, finger millet porridge, plantain, and various other chicken, fruit, and veggie dishes. Kenyan food has about equal parts influence from traditional African food and Indian food. The latter is an obvious impact of the port city of Mombasa which is over 1000 years old and has been a major port city for near as long, connecting Kenya with India and the rest of the world. (Unfortunately, our trip did not have enough time to go see Mombasa.
After filling up enough to
sustain us for a few hours, we headed out and ordered an Uber to take to the
Karura Forest. This is a large natural
preserve on the North side of Nairobi that has dozens of kilometers of walking
trails in a lush forest, a waterfall, and a few caves.
We found our driver to be very
friendly and outgoing, and talked a bit about where we were from and that we
had just arrived what seemed like only a few hours ago. Nairobi is famous for
its traffic and clogged streets, and this Friday morning was no exception. As we snaked around a few smaller streets,
our driver complained about how awful the traffic was. After about a 25 minute
drive we arrived at the main gate and entered.
As we were entering, I realized
we forgot to grab water. We were only
planning on being here for an hour or two, and the temperature was pleasant so
we didn’t absolutely need it, but it would have been nice to have. I figured it would be likely there would be a
roadside stand selling snacks and bottled water however and if so we could buy some. As we walked in, it seemed I was
correct. There was a table with several
bottles on it. We walked up to the
table, which also was an entry checkpoint to check our bags (given Kenya’s
border with Somalia and al Shabab’s occasional terrorist attacks security is fairly
strong at all points of interest). They
asked us to pay entry fees at the office a little further up. I asked if we could buy some water, and the
guard informed us “these are not for sale.
These are from other people, as single use bottles are not allowed in
the forest.”
Oh. As soon as he said this, I remembered I had read that previously. This is something that fit into a theme that was beginning to develop and we continued to notice. Upon entry, we were told single use grocery bags were illegal to possess in the country. The more we travelled Nairobi, the more we realized the was very little trash along the roadsides--very much unlike my travels through India, Nicaragua, and Cambodia. While by no means is it pristine like Doha was, for a country with considerable poverty scattered trash is minimized considerably.
Sans water, Aimee and I ventured into the forest. The paths were fairly well travelled, and we passed other people every 1-2 minutes. Joggers, friends walking in pairs, and the occasional larger group. After the first 20 minutes, I was surprised to notice that everyone of the groups we had passed at this point seemed to be British white people. Nairobi does have a decent amount of foreign residents, and many of these people struck me as residents, not tourists. However based on my pretravel research this surprised me for this place. Interestingly, after the first 20 minutes, most of the other people we passed appeared to be of African descent.
The paths were fairly well
marked with signs at each junction there were signs and distance markers. The primary sight I wanted to see was the
waterfall, which was 2.5km from the gate.
We continued in that direction. We
also quickly noticed the forest was absolutely filled with butterflies. They were flitting about everywhere. Less desirable, we also ran into may streams
of ants, where a jagged line of thousands upon thousands of ants would march in
a jagged line from one side of the path to the other. Their marching line would be anywhere from a
quarter inch wide to ¾ inch wide. We
came across about 20 of these during our hike, and as fast moving as the ants
were we tried to take care not to accidentally step on them for fear they would
create a detour into our pant legs. A
couple times we didn’t see them until we had already stepped on them. Fortunately
we didn’t seem to pick up any stragglers.
that had a sign with an arrow directing us to the waterfall. Over the bridge, and a bit further down was a very tall set of stairs. As we were at the top, two girls that I believe were Somali (I have assumed many of the girls we have seen on our trip are Somali due to their more distinctive clothing, but I welcome any correction from anyone more knowledgeable than I (which is most). They huff and puffed fairly melodramatically but with smiles on their face while trudging up the last 20 steps or so. I jokingly said motivationally “You’re almost there!!” The first wine smiled and with a laugh said “Thank you!”.
After carefully descending the
long staircase, we arrived at the bottom and took some pictures. We then followed a narrow path that was
interrupted by many large tree roots that went along side the river. Just a few hundred feet downstream from the
waterfall, in the distance over the creek I saw what looked like a tornado of dozens
of small white butterflies (similar to what you’d find in the Midwest USA). The mini tornado continued to spin and
flutter incessantly. We continued on to
the spot where they were. It appeared to
have been caused by a small pool of water along side the faster moving creek
where the butterflies could stop to drink.
We had at this point gotten to
what felt like a good half way point, and checked GPS to see if it made
more sense to turn and go back the way we came, or if we could continue forward and exit the other side of the forest. My GPS was spotty, and while google maps had most of the footpaths charted pretty well, there were a few spots that weren’t so clear. It looked like carrying on forward would be equidistant to heading back. At some spots however there were parallel paths on both sides of the creek and on occasional bridge connecting. We began to get a bit concerned we pick the wrong path. At one point we crossed, and climbed some stairs to a much wider path heading the same direction. There was a large sign that provided arrows to points of interest, but it didn’t mention Gate C, which was where we were now looking to exit. At this point, a 20 something Kenyan couple walked past, and I asked the man if he knew if the path led to the gate. I was only intending to bother him for a quick answer, but he didn’t know off hand. He asked if that was Limuru road or Kiambu Road. I said I wasn’t sure which road it was on. He then very quickly said “hold on just one minute I will find out for you” with a big smile. He pulled his backpack off, dug out his phone, and began pulling up some sort of directions. He then came turned to us and said yes, this will take you there. And gave us very clear directions to the gate. These matched what I was seeing on my GPS, and we were good to go.
Further down the path there was
a very large group of about 20 teenagers, mostly girls that also appeared to me
to be Somali walking the path and chattering.
At this point Aimee had pulled out her umbrella to use as a
parasol. As we passed the girls several
of them said hello to us with extremely large warm smiles on their faces and we
returned the greeting. As we passed by,
we heard quite a bit of giggling and laughing and we did wonder if they were
laughing at the American using the umbrella for shade.
Continuing on, without much
effort we made it to the Gate and called our Uber, which was only a few minutes
away.
Our next stop was lunch at
Amaica Restaurant, which offered traditional Kenyan food. As with our prior Uber driver, this one was
very friendly and we talked to him a bit.
We mentioned we’d only been out exploring for a few hours having just
arrived over night. He mentioned how after
only a few hours it seemed to us that everyone was so friendly. He promised “you will love it here.”
To get to the restaurant, we had
to drive down a small alleyway from the main road up to a gate with a
guard. They opened the gate for the Uber
driver to come in. Inside the open-air
restaurant was surrounded by lush vegetation.
We selected a seat in the building, but right at the large doorway to
the covered patio seating. We found
throughout the next couple days, most restaurants were open air with canvas
stretched over the patios to shield from sun and rain.
Our young waitress came by and answered all sorts of questions, and gave us recommendations on what
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| Lunch at Amaica |
to choose, all the while with a large warm smile on her face. While I had pondered ordering a common appetizer of fried termites, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. We ordered some of the less unusual items (in terms of ingredients) however everything was new to us. I ordered the common local beer Tusker. Our waitress asked if I’d like it cold or warm. For my first one, I thought I’d drink it however the locals drink it. Knowing the basics of the history of British colonial rule in Kenya, I wondered how they were typically enjoyed by Kenyans. I asked her how Kenyans like it, and she said cold, but there are some people that do like it warm, I don’t know why. I said that must be the British. Jokingly, I said “for some reason they like to ruin beer that way.” She laughed and agreed, and asked “You are not British?” and I said “no, we’re from the US.”
Our lunch was very good, and as
with breakfast had many elements of Indian food. The staple starch for Kenyan food though,
instead of Naan (bread) that you would have with Indian food, in Kenya you have
Ugali, which is about a cup or two worth of cornmeal that is moistened into a
large ball (perhaps blob is more accurate).
It is low in taste, but certainly filling and balances out some of the
richer entrees. Its only slightly sticky
on the fingers, almost the consistency of bread dough. You break off a piece with your fingers, eat
it, and lick off any sticky remains. Traditional Kenyan food is eaten with your
fingers. (in fact as with most restaurants, before seating us they brought us
to the hand washing station, conveniently setup with 1.) soap, 2.) sink, 3.)
paper towels, 4.) hand sanitizer, so that you are fully prepared to eat and
stay healthy!
Our next stop was a place I stumbled
upon simply scanning Google maps in Nairobi a few months earlier. It sounded absolutely fantastic, and is
called “The Chocolate Room”. They have a
huge menu of breakfast, lunch, snacks, coffee, refreshments, for any time of
day. The majority (though not all) of
the menu items are centered around chocolate.
We sat down to order a couple drinks.
Aimee got a mocha frappe. I had
intended to get a rum flavored “chocotail” which was listed as a cold drink
(though I think somewhere there was miscommunication as my drink came very hot,
but tasty). The piece de resistance on
the menu was something called a chocolate bomb.
I ordered the “Ecstasy Chocolate Bomb.”
While we were awaiting our orders sitting in a garden outside the indoor section of the restaurant, our
server came out with a large smile and a large plate that she put in front of Aimee. It had a rose on it, two large pieces of decadent chocolate, and in chocolate writing it said “Happy Women’s Day”. (I had to check google, but sure enough, it was “International Women’s Day”. Our waitress presented it to Aimee and said, here is a gift for “Women’s Day” for you.
A while later our order came
out. The last piece to be brought was a large
plate with a very large chocolate Orb (for Chicagoans, it was the size of a
Chicago 16” softball…sorry for everyone else I can’t think of a good comparison). Our waitress pulled out a small creamer full
of hot chocolate syrup, and poured it on the top of the ball. Slowly the ball began to melt away, and the
sides one by one flipped backwards onto the plate is if flower petals, revealing
a dark rich slice of double chocolate cake topped with ice cream.
Ecstasy indeed.
The Chocolate Room was situated,
in a gated area (as most restaurants were) with several other boutique shops. Across the garden from where we were sitting
was what we refer to in the US as a “fish bowl” conference room. I could see a whiteboard on one side with
writing on it and a large conference room table in the middle. I asked our server if that was for companies
to rent out for meetings, and she said yes, but it was not owned by the Chocolate
Room, it was a separate business. I
pointed out that it made the chocolate very convenient though. I also asked how long the restaurant had been
open and she said they opened very recently, this past August.
At this point we were running a
bit behind schedule. It was about 3:30,
and our next stop was the Bomas of Kenya.
Unfortunately, the Bomas closed at 5:00, and they were 30-40 minutes
away. And as we had already learned
traffic in Nairobi can be awful. We
called for an Uber, and waited.
Thomas was our next driver. He asked if we were in a hurry, because he
could take the expressway, however there was a toll. We said that would be best given we were
short on time. On the way to the Bomas,
as with our other drivers we talked quite a bit. Thomas was in his early thirties, was Bantu,
and had lived out in the villages but moved to Nairobi about 15 years ago. He was extremely friendly and outgoing. He offered to wait for us at the Bomas and
drive us home as well. Further, he
suggested if we hadn’t gone shopping yet, there was a store with very high
quality handicrafts right near the Bomas.
As we had enjoyed his company driving down there, we happily
accepted.
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| Hut with Animal Pen |
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| Kitchen |
We got into the Bomas parking lot
at 4:15. The park allows for visitors to walk through “villages” of the
many
and various tribes of Kenya. They also have a theater where they have different
tribes come in and show their traditional dances. As we pulled in, Thomas talked to the guards
for us. We had missed all the shows for
the day (which we had anticipated, but we were more interested in the walking
tour of the villages.) Dozens of people
were leaving as we were pulling in. In
talking to the guards, a long back and forth, which appeared to be a negotiation
of some sort occurred between Thomas and the guards. Thomas afterwards told us, “they are trying
to charge you for the full entry, but since there are no shows because its
late, I told them they should not charge that much. I am trying to negotiate a
much better price for you.
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| 1st Wive's Kitchen and Granary |
We eventually got in and parked,
and we asked if Thomas would come with us, and he said “Of course!”
Each “village” had a sign at the
entryway and stepping past, there were several huts in the style of a
particular tribe showing typical layout of the husbands hut, the first wives
hut, second wives hut, children’s hut, etc.
From tribe to tribe, it seemed the basics were very similar, however the
construction of the huts and materials used differed a little bit tribe to
tribe.
We talked quite a bit with
Thomas about how modern technology is changing the traditions tremendously. Hospitals are now used, schools are now used,
and of course everyone has technology. He
did say as children move to or grow up in Nairobi, its harder to get them to
appreciate the traditions of their tribal backgrounds. It is still standard however for families in
the house to teach the children English, Swahili, and whichever mother tongue
is of their tribe. Thomas also said that
there are a lot of similarities in the tribal languages, and he is able to
recognize some words and understand some phrases from other tribes.
Several conversations went back
to the Maasai, as this is one of the most popularly visited tribes for
safaris. He discussed the importance of
manhood and coming of age as a man in the Maasai. Circumcision is a large aspect of this, as
that is when a boy becomes a man. It changes who they socialize with and how
they are viewed in the village. He said
the bravest of the brave of the Maasai will slaughter a lion, will come back to
the village with the lions head, hold it, and welcome his circumcision with
nothing used to dull the pain. I believe this would normally occur in the late
teen years. While I don’t think all
circumcision is as epic as that, he did say that without passing this rite, a
young man will find it very difficult to get married.
In a later conversation, Thomas said
that even this is changing a bit, as many circumcisions are now done in the
hospital setting and at a younger age, though it is normally done after the boy
is old enough to understand the change he is going through (he said often 4-5
years old).
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| Warthog for Aimee to Pet |
After our quick trip through the Bomas which lasted about an hour (and did keep us there beyond the official closing, Thomas took us to a shop where we did a little bit of shopping. At this point we were ready to head back to the hotel and get freshened up for the evening. On the way back to the hotel, Thomas offered to spend the day as our driver the next day which we were happy to accept.
When we pulled into the hotel,
we provided him one of our Tennessee gifts of Goo Goo Clusters, again humbly
admitting it’s a sad comparison of cultural value of what we had learned today,
but it is from our “homeland”. I asked
him how much we owed him for all the driving, (since we only used the Uber app
for the first ride), and he graciously said “pay whatever you think is fair” I tried to estimate what an Uber fare would
have been for the time alotted, figuring hour for hour, this should be double
what he’d get on the app (since Uber wouldn’t be taking their piece)) and I
hoped that was fair.
After showering and getting
dressed, we realized it had gotten quite late and was after 8:00. Our plan had been to get dinner at a
restaurant and head to the Geco Café where they had live jazz music every
night. When I checked hours however,
Geco Café was only open until 11:00. We
were still fairly full from lunch and desert so we decided to head to Geco and
snack there while enjoying the music. Unfortunately
once we got there, the large complex while buzzing with a great vibe and music,
was absolutely packed, and there was nowhere we were going to find a place to
sit and eat and drink. After squeezing through
the crowd for 15 minutes we decided to try a different venue. We called another Uber and headed over to the
Westlands area which has a very busy nightlife area. Unfortunately in some of our research and
talking to people we learned that many of the bars are really geared towards 20
somethings with a lot of dance and house music, which not only wasn’t what we’re
looking for, we’d be the parents showing up at the party. This was reinforced
by a few conversations with people about venues that said, “yeah, that may be a
bit too young for you.” I’m not sure
when I crossed that line in life…but apparently I have.
Havana was a name I had in mind, so we went there. The streets outside were definitely full of millennials out to spend their paychecks on Friday night, and lots of music coming out of the various clubs, bars, and restaurants. Havana looked fairy crowded when we peaked in, so we asked if there
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| Havana |
were tables, and they said we could go upstairs. Climbing up the steep stairs, the second floor was outfitted with several cozy lounge seats, couches, and a small bar. We decided to camp at the bar. We ordered a couple drinks and some food. Service was slow, the food was unexciting and we did note, it was probably the first place lacking the overwhelming smiles from the women tending the bar.
After finishing our food we were
feeling tired, and a little bored. We
had recently gotten a recommendation from a friend of a friend that was born in
Kenya for the Nairobi Street Kitchen (NSK). Thomas earlier warned us that crowd
is very very young, and we may not like it.
It was around the corner, so we figured we’d walk over there. As we got back on the street however and got
somewhat stuck in foot traffic, a security guard for one of the establishments
began talking to us, and asked us where we were from, and what our plans were
(all friendly small talk as we were standing near him – not interrogation like). We mentioned we were going to walk up and
down the street and were going to look at NSK. He wrinkled his face and said “I don’t think
you will like. It’s very very young.” Jokingly, we asked, “So where do the old people
hang out.” He answered “Havana is good”. So we did not end up heading to NSK, and
after wandering the streets feeling old, we decided to pull up our Depends, and
head elsewhere. We were both fighting exhaustion
from long days, but didn’t really want to call it quits yet.
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| Old Folk Looking for a Party |
Aimee remembered there was a big
very busy bar right by our hotel that we had seen when we came in the night
before. A massive sign outside said “Johnnie
Walker” a quick check on Google maps told us this was a bar called Quiver. We figured we could go there and walk the 2
blocks back home when we had enough.
protested a bit saying he had another friend coming. The waitress brought over another seat. While it
made us feel awkward for a moment, he insisted he was fine. Several minutes later his friend showed up. He greeted us with a big smile, and bumped fists with us. I introduced myself and he said his name was Dennis. Someone else had shown up and we were short seats again. I was fighting exhaustion and thought standing would be a good idea. I offered him my seat and he was strenuous in telling me I could have it and said “I am a young African I can stand, you can have the seat”. I smiled and laughed a bit but insisted I wanted to stand as I’d been sitting too long. Once again however….how did I cross the line into being the old guy. After awhile all
but one of the original guys said they were going to go upstairs. One of them however said he wanted to stay there. He seemed like he was a bit set on having a solitary night at the bar while his friends went elsewhere in the building. With seats opening up, two more young guys showed up. They sat for quite awhile before getting drinks, but eventually got a hooka and a few drinks. They were very quiet, and didn’t talk between themselves much at all. They seemed very much like two introverts that thought if they went to the bar on a Friday night something exciting would happen, but they didn’t know how to get it to happen.
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