Western Kenya has been a huge gap in our travelling and knowledge of our host country thus far. Ok, so Helen has done one or two suitably surreal and chaotic trips with her work, but I had failed to get further west than Nakuru. It was becoming shameful. Swahili teacher Lucy and husband Nick talked enticingly about eating fish from Lake Victoria. Eddie and Allys talked about their love of Kisumu. Fellow VSO Catherine goaded us about seeing what a real VSO placement was like, in a remote rural area. It was time to suit up and head West-side, to the provinces of Nyanza and Western, to the lands of the Luhyas and Luos (Kenya’s 2nd and 3rd biggest tribes respectively).
The Kakamega-Rarieda-Kisumu swing-by…
View Kakamega-Rarieda-Kisumu in a larger map
This felt like the most backpacker-ish trip that we had taken in Kenya. It was low budget (running out of money, argh!). We had big backpacks. We took the bus. We looked like youngsters on their ‘year out’. And for the first time, we were going on a trip alone. Just the Jonchards. It felt risky. Would we survive each other’s company? And crucially, why on earth had we chosen to do this trip during the Long Rains…?
I don’t really want to write another minute-by-minute, “And then we did this, and then we did that” type of blog, so instead, I present to you five anecdotes, five portraits, if you will, to paint a picture of Our western Kenya…
1. Rainforest = a forest with lots of rain
Our first destination: Kakamega rainforest. The only rainforest remaining in Kenya, Kakamega was originally part of the ancient Guineo-Congolian rainforest which swept from one side of the continent to the other. We got off our bus after seven hours at Khayega, the closest village to our part of the forest. From here, we would get a piki (motorbike taxi) into the forest to KEEP Bandas, our home for the next two days. As we stepped off the bus, dark rainclouds were gathering in the sky…
…And we were immediately surrounded by motorbikes and shouting. “Where are you going Mzungu? I will take you! Me, I am the one!” We had just managed to drag our rucksacks dazed from the crowd when Helen pauses, and a horrified look crosses her face. “Oh god! I’ve left my waterproof on the bus!”. I was not amused. During rainy season, the one thing you need with you, is a waterproof.
“Don’t worry my friends, we will go, we will chase the bus!” says a piki guy. And so after a brief haggle over the price, we head off at high speed, each on the back of a motorbike, in hot pursuit of an EasyCoach bus. It’s like a comedy version of a James Bond car chase. Almost immediately, the rain starts.
[ I’d like to pause for a moment to simply say this. British people, we think we know about rain. Yeah. No. We don’t. We know nothing about rain. That water falling from the sky? Tis but a drizzle. Kenya knows about rain. Torrential, pounding, thunder-booming, lightning-fired downpours that turn already dodgy roads into rivers of red mud in the space of minutes. At around 4pm every afternoon during the Long Rains, the heavens open. ]
And so we race on through the horizontal sheets of rain. We realised afterwards this was possibly the most dangerous thing we have ever done. I’m astonished neither of us crashed. But we survived to tell the tale, so it’s ok.
By the time we catch up with the bus, we’re soaked to the skin. But we have Helen’s waterproof! And we’re determined to get to the forest bandas before dark. So off we go again, clinging to the back of our motorbikes, with the rain thundering on.
As we close in on the forest and the roads get smaller, there’s no more tarmac and the mud roads become essentially impassable. Our drivers stop us at a line of shacks in the middle of nowhere. “We cannot go further”, they say. “The rain it is too bad”. We manage to persuade them not to simply leave us, and instead we wait in a small shack-cafe, hoping the rain will at least slow down from its current, deafening crescendo. While we wait, the owner brings us chai and tells us “You should move seats, we expect a river here”. We’re confused. “Where, here?”, we say, looking around the small shack/hut we’re sat in. “Yes”. And indeed, within minutes, a pouring river of muddy water is running right through the middle of the ‘café’ from the back door to the front. The owner laughs, embarrassed. “Imagine if a hotel had this problem in America!”.
Well, eventually the rain did slow down, by about 15%, and our piki guys decided they could make it without killing us or them. And we drove on, going deeper and deeper into the rainforest until we arrived to a warm welcome at our bandas, more drowned than even the proverbial rat ever was.
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| It was all worth it for the stunning view over the rainforest at dawn |
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| Our banda! |
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| Forest life |
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| BLUE MONKEY! |
2. Hangin’ with the cows
It’s Friday, and after our soggy time in Kakamega, we’re now visiting fellow VSO Catherine at her placement in Rarieda, near the shores of Lake Victoria. It’s pretty much in the middle of frikkin nowhere, in a beautiful but very poor rural area. Catherine works for an organisation called Rafiki wa Maendeleo (friends in development), who work with this impoverished community on education and training, health, advocacy and economic empowerment.
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| Catherine's place |
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| Helen enjoys a cup of tea and reading time on the veranda |
VSOs can get a bit competitive about who has the most challenging placement / worst living conditions / most hassle from strangers in the street, but really, there are pros and cons to every volunteer’s situation. The big ‘pro’ of living where Catherine does, especially appealing to Nairobians like us, is peace, quiet and green. We spend a couple of calm, slow hours sitting on her terrace, watching the cows which graze around her house (they sometimes come and eat her washing), listening to the birds and thinking big, vague thoughts about nothing and everything. It’s blissful.
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| Hello cow! |
3. On an island eating fish
That same day, we take Catherine’s recommendation to catch the ferry across Winam Gulf to Mbita – an island in Lake Victoria. I’ve loved ferries ever since childhood holidays to France, so the promise of a ferry ride on Africa's largest lake and eating fish sounded like pretty much my perfect day.
The ferry ride takes an hour and involves cars, people, fish, cows, chickens and building materials all crowding on. We head out into the lake, surrounded by big craggy mountains and still water. It feels kinda prehistoric.
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| View from the ferry |
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| Lunch! |
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| Paddling at Mbita |
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| Making friends on the way to the ferry |
4. Children have more energy than I do
Saturday morning, and together with Catherine, we’re off to help with Rafiki’s “PSS” – Psycho-social support. This programme is all about supporting the local children, giving them time to play and socialise away from their usual tough lives, as well as giving them a good meal. More than 70% of the community in Rarieda District lives in poverty, HIV infection rates are twice the national average and 35% of children are orphans.
We get pikis to Masala school and immediately get drawn into the biggest crowd of kids in the middle of the playing field. There are about 100 children in total. Some are in smaller groups, doing drawings, reading stories, but the majority are on the field, ready for some serious games and clearly excited to see Mzungus. The PSS work is not easy, Catherine has warned us. Largely because the vast majority of the kids only speak their local mother tongue, not much Swahili, and even less English. So finding ways to explain activities and interact properly is a challenge.
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| Catherine in serious 'Tickle Attack' mode |
Catherine quickly takes charge, shouting out “One, Two, Make a Circle!” – the children all join in with the well-known chant and begin to hold hands – “Three, Four, a Biiig Circle, Like a Sufaria in the Kiiiitchen!”. And so it begins. For a few awesome, exhausting hours, Catherine, Helen and I try to remember every kind of game we can think of that we’ve ever been taught that could work with a huge group of young children who don’t speak your language. There are clapping games, chasing games, copying games, and lots of running around tickling each other. The language barrier doesn’t matter much when you’re all just there to be silly, and it’s made a lot easier by Catherine’s Chief Interpreter, a young boy with the excellent name of Daniel who has good English and explains what we’re saying to the others.
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| Helen and Catherine lead The Macarena. Yes. The Macarena. |
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| Mexican wave - sort of |
It was a real highlight of our trip, and we’re so glad we went. Although I soon regretted involving the kids in a form of circuit training which involved lots of jumping and crouching and left my legs in agony for the next four days. I’m getting too old for this…
5. Kisumu is a groovy place
Our trip finished in style with a night in Kisumu. Kenya’s third city, Kisumu is renowned for its nightlife, relaxed vibe and ubiquitous tuk-tuks (three-wheel motorbike taxis). The highlight of the evening, for me at least, was hanging out at Dukes of Breeze (thanks Eddie & Allys for the recommendation!) with Helen and Catherine, enjoying a cold drink, listening to the rain, and chatting about all sorts. Good times. After the insanity of the traffic and hassle that is daily Nairobi life, it felt great to be somewhere far more relaxed. Plus, Dukes had AMAZING vegetable tempura and samosas.
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| Good times in Dukes of Breeze, Kisumu. |
Special thanks to Catherine for being our guide, being excellent company, and introducing us to Monopoly Deal. Although we are still upset with you for filling our brains with inane children’s games...
“Down on the banks of the Hankie Pankie,
Where the bullfrogs jump from bank to bankie
Saying E-a-pop-pop
I-a-pop-pop
O-a-pop-pop
POW!”
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