Sabbatical Day 27 (20 August)

Sabbatical Day 27 (20 August)

Dan’s the Man!

Up at 3.30am, beating the dawn chorus. The flight option didn’t work out. It was never very likely and depended on getting too many ‘ducks in a row’. Mission Aviation Fellowship’ haven’t used Tuum airstrip for some time and were wary of it, and other things didn’t fall into place either, so we left at 4.15 with Stephen driving, me in the front passenger seat and Dan in the next row. I had cause to be grateful that Dan was with me, and not just in the sense of having company and someone who knows the ropes of matatu travel on the way to Nairobi, as you shall see later. As we were about to leave, 5 people appeared out of the darkness looking for a trip to Maralal. This is standard procedure – Stephen can’t drive anywhere away from Tuum without someone looking for a lift.

The drive to Maralal was uneventful enough. We stopped at one point to admire a beautiful view. 

It had been raining on much of the route, so the roads were slippery in parts. This is what the road from Nyahururu would have been like on ‘The Day that Time Forgot’ except it was actively raining and was dark.

We got to Maralal for 9.15am which was excellent timing. A matatu was loading up and we booked a couple of seats. What happens is they take your phone number and will ring you when they have the full complement and are about to leave. Now we made our FATAL ERROR. Stephen said we would have time for a cup of tea so we went to the Hard Rock Café (no, not the type you are thinking about, this is it!)

 

And for all you Man U fans I thought you would like this, just across the street (look at the sign on the left of the brown coloured shop)

As the tea as served Dan’s phone went. Matatu full. Come now! Someone who shall be nameless but was not called Dan or Jim said we had time to drink our tea. Phone went a couple more times. When we turned up at the matatu we were bumped off because we were late coming and two other people took our seats. It left at 9.40. So we got into the next one at least getting our pick of the seats. It filled up slowly. It was a bit disconcerting when they raised it up on a jack (with us in it) and banged away at something on the offside rear. Time went by as it has a habit of doing in Africa (God seems to have created more time in Africa than he has at home). One man is put on in the back seat in a sorry looking state by someone else. He doesn’t want to go and keeps trying to get out, becoming slightly violent. He escapes! They pick him up bolidy and put in back in through the emergency rear window! Still slowly the matatu fills up and we leave at 11.30am.

There is space for the driver plus 14 passengers. They have managed to squeeze on driver plus 17 adults and one child (about 4). That plus luggage is far more than the minibus was designed for, never mind probably licensed to carry and I’m a bit concerned. (This is a contrast with Uganda. I was never on a minibus that had more than 14 fare-paying passengers plus driver – although there was always an extra man to operate the sliding door and take money. On any lengthy journey we were always stopped at least once by a traffic police officer, very smartly dressed in a white uniform, with a polite request for the driver’s permit and a look at the insurance certificate, and a quick look at the passengers. This never happened on my journeys in Kenya.) A verse from Scripture came into my mind: Some trust in chariots, and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the Lord our God. (Psalm 20.7) I certainly didn’t trust this ‘chariot’ and offered up a quiet prayer.

I didn’t recognise the road as we set out from Maralal to Nyahururu, but then as it was daylight and the last time had been in the dark, that didn’t surprise me. Stephen (who stayed until the matatu departed and then went back to Tuum) had said also that it might take a different route. We got to a point where the road was being graded and this made progress very slow. I should say at this point that you need great skill and concentration as a driver on these roads. Compacted earth is laid on top of whatever sub-stratum is there – could be rock, clay, soil. This earth is graded, basically scraped level with a large machine. And that makes a good surface for a while but then the combination of traffic, rain, water follow, weak spots in the sub-stratum and so on produces pot-holes, bumps, fissures, and what look sometimes like ravines! Grading takes place at best once a year and even then sometimes makes things worse by scraping off all the compacted earth. All this means that the road becomes impassable at points. What happens then is that the traffic by-passes the impassable bit and goes round it for 50 or 100m or however long it takes. This makes a new track, but it then can become impassable so the by-pass is by-passed! Anyway, the grading work was churning up the earth so much and making progress so slow that the driver turned off the ‘main’ road onto a smaller one, I assume as a detour. We got to a point where the surface was so bad that there was a by-pass of a by-pass of a by-pass of the original road. And there we all had to get out to lighten the load for the minibus to get through. And even then some of the men had to push. All back in and on a bit further. There is an ominous noise from the off-side rear. We all get out, and the matatu is jacked up. The springs have gone at that point! I knew it! And I looked at the back of the matatu, and just below the rear window it was written: In God we trust. This is where I was doubly glad Dan was with us. You may remember he is a skilled mechanic who had been staying in Tuum, reparing the vehicles there. He knew what to do, binding up the springs with rope to make a temporary fix to get us under way. 

So after half an hour we are on our way again. The driver drives with a bit more caution now, and we come to a very narrow part of the road where the ditch on either side is very deep. Just a few inches error would mean the bus would overturn as we tumble into the ditch. I have an off-side window seat and can see into the ditch. More than once I thought we were so close we must fall in but we avoided that catastrophe. By the way the seat belt was broken. I feel that we are still driving too fast over some of the rough bits and sure enough the same noise from the back. We have no more rope, but are near a settlement and someone goes for rope. I triply bless Dan who gets us going again. We seem to take forever getting into Nyahururu as we drop first this person off at his village than that person off at that one. Then we are back on tarred road (Dan says springs will hold now) and finally into Nyahururu just before 7pm.

The next leg of the journey is the shuttle matatu to Nairobi. We are out of one matatu and into the other and away within 10 minutes. Fare is 400/- (£3.08 for a 3 hour journey, from Maralal to Nyhururu was 600/- - £4.62 – how do they make any money?). Although the journey is all on tarred road, it is still very jarring and when I get to Nairobi and get out I feel like I’m in one of those Tom and Jerry cartoons where Tom is working a pneumatic drill and the drill is taken away and he continues to vibrate as if it’s still there. Three hours from Nyahururu to Naorobi. Stephen has given Dan the phone number of the Taxi company to ring for me to me taken to the Leremores (but that’s not what he thought!). I had noticed that Dan had got quite cross with the first matatu driver at one point when he seemed to me making no effort to make up time. I realise why when Dan advises me at about 8 to ring my airline and cancel my flight while it can still be cancelled. He thought my flight was this evening when in fact it’s tomorrow evening! He’s somewhat relieved to learn the reality. Poor man, he must have been panicing all the way since Maralal.

I phone Naomi as we get near Nairobi to get her address for the Taxi. Shortly afterwards Thomas rings. However, with his accent and the noise in the matatu (radio full blast as it was all the way from Maralal) I can’t make him out except that he (whoever he is) will pick me up at a particular bus stop. He asks to speak to Dan and I assume they are confirming the arrangement.

We get to the particular bus stop and I get off. Then confusion! A Taxi driver wants to take me but I tell him I am being picked up. Another man steps forward and introduces himself as John. I assume I have got it wrong and it wasn’t Thomas on the phone, but to be sure I ask him, Are you the one who is to pick me up and spoke on the phone? He says he is and Dan confirms it (Dan has never met Thomas so wouldn’t know him anyway). It’s a Taxi and I get in. I take the opportunity to phone Lynda and while I do another call comes in. It’s Thomas and I can hear him clearly. He says he is on his way and will pick me up soon! So ‘John’ was not the one! However, the journey to the Leremores in short and John knows the way so I am there quite quickly. Thomas arrives while the Taxi still there. The fare is 600/-. I offer 1,000/-. The driver says he has no change. Really? I might be tired but I’m not stupid and while the 400/- change is only £3.08 there’s enough Scots blood in my not to let him away with that trick. Thomas has some change so ‘John’ gets 600 and no tip (that’ll teach him).

So with Leremores before 11. Over 19 hours on the go. A cup of hot chocolate and some toast (first toast in over a week!) and into bed. Good sleep.

Jim