Kenya

Nairobi

Friday, 06 November 2009

Two funny things happened this morning....

Last night I met with one of my staff. We needed somewhere quietish to chat so ended up being the only patrons in the residents’ lounge at the Hilton, which was fine. Nick had a cappuccino and I had a Tusker, It had been a long day. When it came time to pay I asked the waiter to put it on my tab. I signed the chit, including a 10% gratuity. But I got my room number wrong – I said 709 and it should have been 710. I only realised when I got back to my room, but thought that since my name was on the chit they would check it and assign it to the right room. When I checked out this morning, I told the check out clerk what had happened. He spent some time checking on his computer and finally told me that the bill had been paid already – the guest from 709 had checked out earlier and clearly hadn’t bothered to read his statement – just signed. They say there is no such thing as a free lunch – but I just got one.

The other was when I arrived at domestic check in for my flight to Kisumu. The security guy at the door checked my ticket and then motioned for me to put my bags and belongings through the X-ray scanner. Routine enough. I know by now that at Nairobi one doesn’t normally have to bother taking the laptop out of the bag, but otherwise it is the same as anywhere else. I put my case through, then my bag, then a tray with my jacket which contained my cell phone, wallet and a few other items. I then walked through the archway which went beep – I guess from my belt buckle. But nobody appeared to tell me to take it off and try again. I went forward cautiously, expecting to be apprehended at any point by some officious security person. When I got to the other side, to pick up my belongings, I saw why it was that no one had stopped me – the fellow whose job it is to watch the TV screen of the scanner was sitting (lying) stretched out before it, hooded jacket pulled over his head, apparently fast asleep. In fact he could have been dead. I was very tempted to take a picture but decided that my desire to document the occasion might not be viewed in a good light, especially if he woke up whilst I was doing it. Such is the standard of security checks at Nairobi domestic. I expect he was at the end of a long shift, or had been working a double job. Not that that is an excuse, just an explanation. One wonders though, why they bother – all these protocols and procedures are nothing more than window dressing, and sometimes they aren’t even that.

Saturday, 07 November 2009

The Imperial Hotel in Kisumu was full so I was booked at the Nyanza Club. Actually I prefer the Club, but most of my colleagues prefer the hotel, mainly because it has wireless internet, and so we normally end up staying there. There are 2 blocks of rooms in the Club, old (built 1979) and new (built within the last 5 years). I prefer the old, although there are bats in the roof, they aren’t mosquito proof and there is no aircon. But the view out of Lake Victoria from the veranda is stunning. I got back quite late after a long day at the site, but was in time to have a refreshing swim in the pool and then a nice dinner of grilled tilapia fillet and masala, with mashed potato.

I flew on Fly540 to and from Kisumu from Nairobi. In the past I have tried to keep to Kenya Airways when I could, but they have stopped flying to Kisumu because “the runway is too short” – go figure. There are a number of other airlines which do – Jetlink, Fly540 and another whose name I forget. Presumably their planes are smaller. I’m not sure what type of aircraft it was – I usually look at the safety leaflet but it was not informative this time. 2 huge propellers mounted below the overhead wings, if you know what I mean. Coming back it was right outside my window. I found myself wondering what would happen if it came off. I consoled myself with the thought that it could just as easily spin off in another direction (up, down, out) as come crashing through my window and cut my head off!

I discovered when I got onto the return flight in Kisumu that we would not be flying straight back to Nairobi, but would first be stopping at Eldoret. They told us it was 15 minutes’ flight to Eldoret. I know of the town but have never been there. I know that it is about 2 hours’ drive from Kisumu, over a not very good road, and that one climbs up an escarpment. So I was interested to see what it looked like from the air. We took off, banked and turned over the lake and then climbed steadily over the town. The houses and roads and cars got smaller and smaller. And then suddenly they got bigger again and the ground looked like it does when you are on your final approach – we had passed over the rim of the escarpment. It must be quite a drop – must go and have a look sometime.

Up on the plateau the scenery looked different in the twilight – different to that around Kisumu. Greener somehow, and neater. There were homesteads and hedgerows and roads but less than down by the lack and somehow it all looked more orderly. One could almost have been flying over England, or maybe what I imagine England looked like 100 years ago. And then before I could get too engrossed in it, we were descending and landing. The airport looked better than Kisumu’s – better tarmac, better buildings – just more modern. They told us it was international and there was one fairly sizeable jet taking off. We refuelled (during which we all had to unbuckle our seatbelts, for some reason – interestingly they didn’t make us switch off our cell phones, which they did on a Lufthansa flight once when we refuelled in Johannesburg). And then we were off again, this time to Nairobi.

The guy sitting next to me was reading something which looked like Arabic. It was leather covered book, with beautiful script in red and black. He seemed totally focussed on reading it. I have been reading Karen Armstrong’s book on Islam and couldn’t contain my curiosity. I leaned over and said “Can I ask you a question?” He didn’t say no (he didn’t say yes either – I suspect he thought I was going to try and covert him). “Is that Arabic script?” I asked. He nodded. “Is that the Quran?” Again he nodded and even grunted. “It is beautiful,” I said, “the script is really superb”. I think he thought I was mad. So I gave up and stared out the window and he went back to reading it. Maybe he was preparing for the Hajj.