Markets, Men and Motorbikes
The Many Misadventures: Kenya pt 2
Journey to the Edge of the Earth
The trip from Nairobi to Mbita, the furthest west you can go, was a long ride. The bus was safe and clean but it was not a comfortable trip for me. The reason for this was twofold and firstly had to do with the fact that my stomach was far from pleased with Nairobi tap water and had been complaining, one could say. No matter what sort of a person you are, a ten-hour bus ride with an upset stomach and only one 10-minute toilet stop never makes for a good time. Especially when the toilet is just a hole in the ground. But moving along …
The second reason for my discomfort was the bus paradox. Sitting too far forward in the bus gives you blaring music for ten hours. No matter how much you like traditional Kenyan music, one can only take so much. Sitting too far back in the bus meant that you really felt all the bumps, painfully. In the first two hours I counted over one hundred speed bumps, and then soon gave up (on counting) (on life) (on a sane future). One would image the middle of the bus would be a bearable balance between softer music and smaller bumps but the middle was far worse than anywhere else. After trying out various seats I resigned myself to the back of the bus and tried, in vain, to nap. I arrived in in awe of Lake Victoria and meeting my host, we set off for Mfangano Island. (More on this soon!)
Trying to talk
After a few weeks it seems inevitable that one is wont to miss one’s family. Since I had a Kenyan SIM card with data I could - in theory - make contact with them but the reality was a very different story.
Attempting to WhatsApp call them I walked all over the little village to find an area that had even one bar (of signal) (not the alcoholic variety). I finally found that standing on a particularly pointy rock under an acacia tree and bending at an angle of 47 degrees whilst standing on one foot allowed the call to go through. However, after 20 seconds it was clear that there was a serious delay as they would answer my comment of “I went to the market today” with; “Did you go to the market today?” and so the conversation went on with some amount of frustration.
The genius that is my family soon discovered that if we resorted to saying “Over” after each contribution the other side knew when they could talk. Although this dragged the conversation out, it made it somewhat bearable. I, however, found this particularly difficult as I could no longer butt in with a thousand thoughts, comments and opinions as I usually do in a conversation. Perhaps it is good to learn to listen?!
Market Day
On market day, I decided to accompany my host, Florence, to the mainland town of Homa Bay. She had fish to sell, and I was in search of material for kitenge skirts and some kikoy sarongs. We were up before the sun and by 5am we were waiting on the beach for the boat to come and fetch us. There wasn’t even a hint of sunrise yet and all was completely dark. A magnificent blanket of stars covered the sky and the whole island still slept.
The long local fisherman’s boat drew up near the shore. Imagine just a very big canoe, it was not more than a very big canoe. Wading out into the water the obstacle course of getting to our seats began. Climbing up a long slippery ladder, the boat swayed like a pendulum in the big waves. This was not the only challenge … and doing it whilst in a long dress, with bags and buckets of fish did not make it any easier. The ladder was at the front of the very big canoe, out seats at the back. Clambering over smelly nets, water containers, suitcases, a bicycle, open barrels of fish, a baby crib, a couch set and many bizarre pieces of luggage that would also ride with us, we finally made it to the plank of wood that would be our seat for the next two hours.
The boat pulled away and we glided rather seamlessly across the black waves and around the island. The stars slowly began to disappear as the horizon turned a beautiful blood red. I spent the next hour watching the sun slowly, shyly, peak its head up over the edge of the earth and say Hi. As it stretched out across the sky the villagers in each town we passed awoke with it. The trip was beautiful, calm and serene, but that didn’t last very long.
Arriving at Mbita, the next leg of the journey was by road. After several inquiries, the vehicles best suited for this appeared not to be operating. Apparently there were many police on the roads today, but not the kind who were susceptible to bribes. This meant they would not be looking past the over packed vehicles and would actually be enforcing road rules. We ended up in a sort of mini-bus taxi and I was thrilled to have a comfortable seat and even a seat belt!
More people boarded and looking up I saw the giant rear of a lady reversing towards me. She was about to sit on my lap and despite many protest she kept reversing in, convinced, I think, that the three seats were in fact four. If this was not bad enough, the woman did not come alone, but with two small children. She picked one up and tried to hand it to me. By the look on my face she saw that it definitely wasn’t going to happen and reluctantly passed the child off to another unwilling woman.
Arriving at the market it was busy and bustling. I held onto Florence, the fish and my bag. We sold many fish to her marketplace friends and went in search on kitenge material. Taking an indecisive individual such as myself to a fabric market and telling her to just pick one is never a good idea. I am that indecisive person that I doesn’t even have a favourite colour, because how can you choose just one?! Thankfully Florence (and the market place ladies) were patient with me.
After much bartering for fish and fabric we finally left and found some food. I got hit on by two men who came into the restaurant. They were fascinated by this pale and freckled person before them and kept offering to buy me food. I am never one to turn down free food, but it was what they wanted in exchange for that free food that had me slightly perturbed. I reluctantly declined and enjoyed chapatti and chai before leaving.
Back on the island I watched a piki-piki driver try to attach a three seater couch to the back of his motorbike. He somehow succeeded and him and another woman climbed on and wobbled off to their destination. The tenacity of people here to make things fit amazes me. Be it too much luggage in a very big canoe, too many people on the seat of a matatu or too big a piece of furniture for a motorbike, they always just make it work.
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See Part 1 here! https://bit.ly/2KpDQb4
Follow for more many misadventures | Hit the clapping hands if you enjoyed :)
