December 7-16, 2009
Since classes have officially ended and we do not travel back to the US until the 21st, my classmates and I had a couple of weeks to travel within East Africa before returning home. Some of us traveled to Zanzibar and Dar es Salaam and I traveled throughout Kenya. I traveled with a friend and classmate, Majok, from Sudan so my journey is part of his journey as he traveled back to Kakuma Refugee Camp, where he spent 9 years of his life due to the civil war between north and south Sudan.
Nairobi to Nakuru
We first traveled to Nairobi again for a couple of days of rest and recuperation after a long, hard semester of classes and internships. Nairobi is a very crowded city that reminds me of NY with its traffic and aggressive drivers. Good place to visit but I know I could not live there. From Nairobi, we took a dala dala (called Matatu in Kenya) to Nakuru. On the news before we left, we heard that some of the dala dala drivers went on strike due to a new city noise ordnance that was passed. The dala dala drivers insisted that the noise ordnance affected their business because loud music is how they attract their customers. After a 2-hour ride, we arrived in Nakuru and were greeted by Majok’s sister and a rain shower. At the house I met many of Majok’s extended family including other sisters, cousins, uncles and Majok’s nephew, who is scared of mzungus because he cried every time he saw me. Nakuru is not as diverse of a city as Nairobi or Arusha, so I stuck out as one of the few mzungus around. I was warmly welcomed by the family and shared in their stories as they talked and made up for lost time. One of Majok’s uncles had just come from Australia to visit his new wife and eventually bring her back to Australia with him. I learned a little about life in Australia where the government helps to support its citizens through a more socialist form of government rather than capitalism. Although I do not speak the Dinka language, I was able to piece together some stories with the random English words and translations here and there.
Nakuru to Kitale via Eldoret
The next morning at 7am we began our long journey toward Kakuma. I wasn’t sure what to expect so I didn’t expect anything and just went with the flow. We boarded another dala dala that was supposed to take us to Kitale where we were to meet Majok’s younger brother but we were dropped off in Eldoret and ended up having to take another dala dala the rest of the way. It was about a 3 hours ride to Eldoret and then another 1 hour or so to Kitale. Eldoret I learned was one of the cities in Kenya most affected by the post-election violence of 2007. People that sought refuge in the church were actually burned inside in acts of violence similar to those of the Rwandan genocide in 1994.
We arrived in Kitale around 1pm and Majok’s younger brother, Nhial spotted us pretty quickly because again, there are not many mzungus in Kitale. This was the first time the brothers had seen each other in several years although they communicate frequently via phone and facebook. Nhial is a smart, well-spoken young man that is very tall, a distinctive feature of many of the Dinkas from South Sudan. He is currently completing a program at Kakuma Refugee Camp through an organization that will send him to Canada for college. He scored within the top 10% of the students in Kenya on the national exams, which made him eligible for the program. He is also employed as a teacher at the camp due to his outstanding grades throughout primary and secondary school. We bought out tickets for the bus to go to Kakuma (Nhial went to purchase them because if I was with him, he would be charged the “mazungu price”). We went to grab a quick bit to eat and visited Majok’s uncle who was also in town on business. At 3:00 we boarded the bus along with about 60 other people and all our belongings. We did not actually leave until 5pm because it took a while to load everyone’s belongings, some of which were went under the bus and some where strapped to the top of the bus. Before departing, we had a short sermon by a local preacher, who then took up an offering before departing the bus.
Kitale to Kakuma via Lodwar
We traveled throughout the night on winding, dusty roads with frequent police checks (not sure what they were checking for- the Kenyan police are known to be very corrupt and people are often forced to pay bribes to avoid going to jail). Majok’s uncle was actually arrested the night before for no reason and then released. There were many stories similar to this floating around including people being arrested for not wearing seat belts. About 3 hours into our ride the road switched from smooth to very bumpy which made the ride quite interesting. The bus driver was very careful to take the curves with caution, which made for a pretty smooth ride despite all of the potholes and uneven pavement. At about 1am we arrived in a small town called Lodwar where we were supposed to board another bus headed to Kakuma but that bus never came. It was stuck along the way waiting for water to clear so that it could pass a certain point in the road. The bus conductor refunded us part of our money since they could not guarantee when the bus would get there so we were stuck finding our own way to Kakuma which are another 1 ½ hours away.
Not sure if it was divine intervention, luck or a planned set up, but there were taxi drivers there ready and waiting to take us the rest of the way to Kakuma. So just after 1am, the 3 of us climbed into a taxi with 5 other people, including the driver and headed toward Kakuma, but only after going to get gas and driving around for about 15 minutes trying to find fish for one of the passengers. It was a scary ride as the driver was flying on the road to Kakuma. I tried to keep my eyes closed for most of the trip, preferring not to see my death if it was to come soon. I am pretty sure we ran over a chicken, goat or some other small animal at some point. We did arrive safely in Kakuma at 4am and managed to find rooms at a local hotel owned by Somalis. After some negotiating, we were allowed to stay until 1pm the next day instead of having to leave at 9am. I took a quick, cold shower in the dark and went straight to bed, exhausted from the almost 24 hours of travel.
The next day we were awakened by harsh rain that lasted until about 2pm. Determined not to let it mess up our trip to the camp, we ventured out around 1pm to grab “breakfast” (tea and chapati) and then walked through the town of Kakuma toward the camp. As we walked, Majok spoke of how much the town had changed. There was not much business and activity going on within the town and Nhial informed us that most of the activity occurred within the camp. Many of the local people, the Turkana tribe (an indigenous tribe similar to the Maasai in Tanzania) visit the camps during the day and many of them even work in the camp. In the past there have been conflicts between the Turkana and the people in the camps because in some ways, the people in the camp are better off than the town people. There were incidents of the Turkana coming into the camps with guns and robbing the camp residents. Since then the Turkana have to leave the camps by 6pm each day and the Kenya police help to monitor their movement within the community.
As I said earlier, I was not sure what to expect at the camp but I must say that it was much more than I imagined. Seeing camps on TV and talking about them in class does not really help you to prepare you from what you might see. Kakuma Refugee Camp was established back in 1992 when Sudanese refugees like Majok and many of his family members where taken there by the UN to escape the war in Sudan. Over the years it has developed into a camp that now provides for refugees from various surrounding countries such as Uganda, Rwanda, Ethiopia, Eritrea, Burundi and Somalia. The camp is separated by communities so all of the Somalis live together in one community, the Sudanese in another community, etc. Within those communities there may also be separation by tribes such as the Dinkas and the Nur of South Sudan, each have separate communities. There was no security, so we just entered the camp and walked down the main road. The first community in the camp was the Somali community so once we passed their homes, we were surrounded by shops and businesses on both sides of the road. When it rains, the roads in the camps flood so a lucrative business within the camp is transportation. The Somalis apparently have taxis and there are several young men that use bicycles to transport people across the flooded streets. You can get a ride for about 10 Kenyan shillings, which is equal to about a penny. We traveled on the bikes past several shops selling anything from clothing, household items and beauty products. There was even a place to use the internet and watch a soccer match. The local movie theatre showed movies for 5 shillings and there were barbershops throughout.
Once we passed the Somali section, we entered the Ethiopian section, another area with lucrative businesses. We visited Francos restaurant, which seemed to be a pretty popular spot as business was booming. There we ate traditional Ethiopian food, enjera, watched some Ethiopian dance videos and part of a soccer game. Back at the hotel where stayed the previous night, we did not have power, but here in the camp, the businesses managed to have electricity running off of elaborate systems of power lines connected to generators and solar power panels. This is one of the examples where you can see a distinction between the lives of the town people and the people in the camp. The meal at Francos was enough to feed 3 people and only costs about $2.00. People from the town and UN workers frequently eat there during lunch and host meetings there.
After leaving the Ethiopian section, we visited the Sudanese community to see Nhial’s home. This required some creativity as there was a lot of water and no bicycle taxis available. We ended up rolling up our pants and taking turns wearing flip-flops to thread through the water. Nhial’s house was a mud-constructed house with corrugated roof. Majok was impressed at the new roofs because he said when he was there, the roofs were made of plastic sheeting and grass. The home consisted of a bed, a desk and chair and a table. Nhial and his roommate decorated the place by putting kanga fabric on the ceiling and they had rigged up a light to the generator. Several of Nhial’s friends stopped by, including several kids who came to see the mzungu in the community. Apparently the UN workers do not venture into the camp much outside of working hours so it was unusual to see a mzungu on the weekends. Majok shared some of his wisdom and experience with the young men and encouraged them to do well in school so that they might be eligible for some of the same opportunities he was afforded. It seems that the best way out of the camp to pursue further studies is by doing really well in school and getting scholarship to study abroad.
As we spent more time in the camp and in town, Majok ran into more distant family members, friends and teachers he remembered from school and his time at the camp. Some of them were doing well and some of them were no better off than they were 9 years ago when Majok was last in Kakuma. This left him pondering for a little while what his life would have been like if would have stayed in the camp. We got a ride on the bicycle taxis back to town and checked into a different hotel. We sat and watched TV for a little while with other residents of the hotel before heading to bed pretty early that evening.
The next morning was Sunday so we decided to check out the local church Majok attended back in the day. As we approached the church, we saw several groups of Turkana dressed in their traditional costumes, singing and dancing. We stayed to watch the ceremonies for a little while and when it seemed that the usual church service would not happen that day, we headed back to the camp. On the way we met one of Majok’s cousins who heard he was in town and had been looking for him. His cousin was an aspiring rapper who had spent some money that was sent to him to pursue his rap career and as a result was now stuck in Kakuma on his way back to Sudan. Majok gave him the money he needed while trying to give him some good advice. But like many young teenagers, he was a young man learning his way and seemed pretty set on continuing his pursuits. As our bus did not leave until 4pm that day we killed some time chillin at Francos again and then headed back into the town to prepare for the long journey back to Nakuru. The journey home proved to be even more adventurous that the journey there.
Kakuma to Nakuru
We boarded the bus at 4pm. It was a smaller bus so they managed to get everything loaded and by 4:30pm we were on the way. The bus was very crowded and many people were standing in the middle of the aisles. Most of the people were just traveling to Lodwar, 1-½ hours away but it was still a long time to be standing. We thought we had good seats in the front right behind the bus driver but it became a place for more people to cram into the space. Also, this time our driver was not as cautious as the previous one and his fast pace on the sharp twists and turns, not to mention the bumpy road soon left me wishing that I could not see the road in front of us and left my stomach doing flips. I felt like I was on one of those 4D simulation rides or a roller coaster that lasted 3 hours. I ended up having to take some Dramamine to settle my stomach and tried to sleep to calm my nerves. There were times that I really thought we would not make it as the driver sped up through sharp turns or swerved to avoid potholes while making the bus “lean back” like we were on a Fat Joe video. .
At one point, we came to a point in the road that the bus driver was not sure if the bus would make it through or not. He instructed everyone to get off of the bus so that he could take the bus through without the passengers incase something happened. While I appreciated this gesture, the driver pulled off before everyone had a chance to get off of the bus so we were left in the rain with other passengers while some were left on the bus to risk the dangerous passage. Thankfully the bus made it through with no problems and we had to rush to get back on the board. Majok had one foot on the bus and one foot on the ground as the bus driver decided to pull. At 1am we arrived back in Kitale, where we boarded another bus to take us to Nakuru. This ride was a little smoother and I actually got to sleep some on the bus. After a 15-hour journey, we arrived back in Nakuru at 7am.
Nakuru
Back at Majok’s sister’s house, I happily took a shower and had breakfast, which was followed by hours of talking and catching up. The Dinkas are apparently known for talking. Majok and his uncles, brothers and cousins talked for hours on end on topics ranging from politics in Sudan, school, what family members are doing these days, and life in Australia and the US compared to life in Africa. One of his young cousins who is only 17 kept everyone laughing as he shared his views on various topics. After a couple of hours of listening to the men talk, I ventured outside with the women and girls and participated in some “womanly” activities, washing clothes. I have gotten used to washing my underwear since I have been here but washing all your clothes is another story and a pretty tiring job. We then began to watch a Nigerian movie before lunch. Lunch consisted of the traditional Sudanese bread called kisara. The most familiar thing I could compare it to is corn tortillas. There was an okra soup that accompanied the kisara along with some pasta and beef. I was so full after lunch that the “it is” started to kick in fast and I went to take a nap. The afternoon and evening consisted of more talking, laughing, and eating.
Again Majok’s young but sharp and informed cousin kept everyone laughing. He asked many questions about life in Australia and America. He remarked on how everyone has rights in many western countries. Men, women, children and even dogs have rights according to him which was very different from the system in many African countries. They talked about how the kids in school get lashes if they are late or act up in school and how we cannot do that in the States because the kids know their rights. Majok’s cousin stated they have to train the children as they are growing up or else the families will not eat. It is traditional in Dinka culture to pay cows as dowry for marriage. If a young girl is not raised to be a proper wife, no man will want her and therefore the family will not receive any cows. The dowry is often between 80-100 cows. Majok’s cousin also wanted to know if mzungus had a secret language they could speak besides English when they did not want people to know what they were talking about. These questions plus more stories about family members kept the conversation going into the evening when everyone retired to bed.
Nakuru back to Nairobi
The next morning we said our good byes and headed back to Nairobi. After a 2 hour ride we arrived in Nairobi but it took another 2 hours to get to place we were going to stay because the traffic was so bad. We had arranged for a taxi to meet us at the bus station but the traffic was so bad he could not even get into the city. We got off of the dala dala before we even got to the bus station because we were not moving anywhere due to the traffic. We ventured around trying to find a taxi and praying we did not get robbed in the process. As I mentioned in my earlier blog Nairobi is also know as “Nai-robbery” due the high theft rate. We found a taxi and we talked to the taxi driver about the traffic issue in Nairobi. It seems that the city is not doing much to handle the problem and the few stop lights and traffic police they have are not helping the situation. I saw many people simply ignore the traffic lights and just do their own thing. Citizens have taken it upon themselves to try to regulate the traffic in the absence of police or any organized form of movement. Exhausted and annoyed by the rides during the day, I spent the evening checking email and relaxing.
Nairobi to Arusha
The next morning I boarded the shuttle back to Arusha and I was very glad to be getting out of Nairobi. I was looking forward to the more slow paced life in Tanzania and to seeing some of my other classmates before they traveled back to the US. I arrived in Arusha by 4pm after spending almost 2 hours held up at the Namanga border. Leave it to my fellow Americans to be misinformed and hold everyone up. There were 3 Americans who did not know the visa for Tanzania was $100 so they did not have enough money with them. The ATM machine did not take their cards or have enough money so they had to take a taxi to the next town and use another ATM. They then had to change the Kenyan shillings to dollars at the currency exchange and finally were able to get their visas. There were several conversations going on on the bus trying to determine whose fault it was that we were held up. Some people felt that the Americans should have been more informed coming from a country where information is easily accessible. Others felt the bus driver should have informed all the passengers upon departure what to expect at the border, which did not happen. Still others felt it would not have been a big deal if the ATM had money! Either way I was glad to be back on the road and looked forward to spending my last days in Arusha without drama or having to take another shuttle, dala dala or bus!
