Cultural Learning Curves

April 24, 2002-Up In the Air
(photo:The Ark)

In a country that’s 90% Hindu are we the only ones who can find a Roman Catholic guide to take us to the airport? His grandparents emigrated from Portugal in the early 1900’s and settled in Bombay. He said that being such a minority is hard when it comes to keeping young people in the Church when they marry out. It’s the same old song with different words.

The international airport in Bombay was like a madhouse when we arrived for our 3:30 AM flight. We were surprised to learn we had to pay a new $10 “insurance tax” for all the new security measures instituted since 9/11. It amounted to 500 rupees and we didn’t have enough left. They said we could put it on VISA. A man took our card and said he would go back to the office to validate it. I wasn’t about to let him out of sight with my card and followed him over the baggage conveyor belt. He had trouble getting a phone line out and suggested we change money and pay in rupees. I told him the hotel had just accepted the card for payment, we didn’t want more rupees, and I had three-hours until I needed to board the plane. I could wait. He tried again and got through. When I re-emerged, David said that the Indians just don’t want us to feel bad about leaving India. We filled our three-hour wait by standing in line with 500 people who had to go through immigration and security.

We boarded our Kenya Air flight and hoped they lived up to their slogan, “The Pride of Africa.” During our six-hour flight, we had time to adjust from a veggie world to one that had restaurants called The Carnivore. We were pleasantly surprised by the quality of the airline and service, although it was definitely service without a smile. We’d spent almost two weeks in a place where everyone tried so hard to please. We enjoyed the quirky way Indians inclined their heads to the side as a sign of ascent instead of nodding. In contrast, the flight crew on Air Kenya didn’t crack a smile. Our in-flight movie was Hardball with Keaneau Reeves. It took place in the housing projects of Chicago and made me realize that it’s not only India that has it societal weeping sores.

Journeying

We landed in Nairobi at 6:30 AM, their time and the first thing we noticed was that there were no guards at the airport. We’d flown through the night and left for safari immediately. Safari means journey in Swahili. We weren’t really beginning our journey; we were continuing it.

We had an un-air-conditioned van to ourselves. Our driver, Jackson, who says he speaks English, will be with us for our entire stay. We won’t be meeting up with a group but will travel independently from place to place. The first thing I noticed about Nairobi was that it was wet and green. The second thing I noticed was it was a lot cleaner than India and there were no car horns being honked. India was so polluted this was the first blue sky that we’d seen in twelve days. We passed the new U.S. Embassy that will replace the one that was bombed and remembered that this isn’t a benign country. The new embassy is in a safer neighborhood in the suburbs. We made a pit stop on our three-hour drive to the first lodge. We were both exhausted and I had been falling asleep every time I sat down. I slept at the airport in Bombay, on the plane, and we were dozing when the car stopped. The driver told us we were at a gift shop that let us use their rest rooms for free and it would be nice if we bought something from them. It was our option and we should bargain hard. A saleswoman accosted us and followed us around as we took our obligatory tour of the aisles. After a decent interval of dodging her sales forays we headed towards the van. She followed us and asked if I had any American pens to give her. I was still shell-shocked from exhaustion and told her so as I maneuvered my way to hide in the van.

The countryside is lush and green. It got hilly quickly and soon we could see the backdrop of Mt. Kenya. The roadside and areas around the shanties, shacks, and conical straw-roofed huts were planted and trash free. The rural men and women wear brightly colored cotton scarves around their shoulders adding contrast to the green of the rich farms and landscape. They dress in a conglomeration of Western clothing that looks as if it was assembled at a thrift shop. There’s a big business in second-hand clothing and I would guess that the missions distribute a lot as well. One man was wearing a Re-Max Realty t-shirt. Now, where did that come from? Many people were on the way to work in the fields and carried machetes. The machetes looked a bit sinister to me and brought to mind what went on in Rwanda. We passed loads of Christian churches and I was surprised to learn that most Kenyans are Christian with the minority Muslims clustered along the coast.

Wart Hog Welcome

We arrived at Aberdare National Park Country Club and Resort and were welcomed by a family of wart hogs who loped across our path. We had lunch at an old stone building with a verandah (where I fell asleep) and sweeping lawns trimmed with brightly colored flowering bushes. Peacocks and more wart hogs were on parade as well as some kind of bird that has iridescent blue wings. One of the major problems on the golf course is that monkeys steal the balls. All our food is included in our tour package, but drinks are extra. The prices here are exorbitant. We paid $3 for a liter of water today. It’s a tourist venue and is remote, so they really gouge.

As we went deeper into the park, we came upon a small herd of Cape buffalo and a lone male elephant. The Cape buffalo is the most feared animal in the jungle. Although they’re vegetarians, they’ll ambush people or other animals and kill them out of sheer meanness. I never expected to see so much so soon. They’re in the process of installing electric fencing to keep the animals of the park away from the villages. It takes a lot of volts to discourage an elephant.

So Where’s Noah?

We’re staying at a place called The Ark tonight. It was raining and there were lots of jokes about going there two-by-two. We had to re-pack into an overnight case for our stay since there’s limited space in the SUV that took us up there. We also had to sign waivers about not holding them responsible if we’re eaten by a wild animal or bitten by a snake. I closed my eyes and signed.

The Ark is a lodge built solely to view the wildlife of the park. It sits on a watering hole and has several viewing areas that give differing perspectives. One is an open-air stone “photo blind” where we can take pictures of the animals without barriers yet are protected from them. We’re not permitted out of the building nor are we allowed to leave our vehicle. The rooms are rustic and basic and each has a call button in case of a sighting during the night. There’s no heat in the rooms and the temperature goes into the 50’s. I thought I would have to sleep in my clothes, but each bed is provided with a cozy hot water bottle that’s a wonder and a blessing. The bathrooms need a good coat of paint, but the public rooms appropriately have wood paneling, vaulted beamed ceilings, picture windows, and fireplaces. As I write this I’m sitting in our room overlooking the watering hole. We’ve already watched a male gazelle trying to get it on with a female. She wasn’t having any.

There are only three couples at the Ark tonight. There’s a Japanese couple and one from Nairobi. The Kenyans, Caroline and Nash, are the only ones who speak English so we spent some time with them this afternoon and sat with them at dinner. Swahili is spoken by the majority at home and in business dealings and is taught in the schools, but English is the official language. We learned that “sabba” means “OK” in Swahili. It’s also what Alex calls David. It means “grandpa” in Hebrew. Whenever we hear it, we think of her. Caroline works for an organization that translates the bible into different African languages. Nash is an accountant for a Christian missionary group. They’re celebrating their first anniversary and are so very young. They spoke with passion and sadness about what has become of Kenya. They don’t see a strong political leader in the near future and yearn for the development of the riches and the potential that is possible. Taxes are very high, but it all goes for graft and only the politicians benefit and get richer. They laughed when we told them that our guidebook said we should try not to look like tourists when we’re on the streets. It’s very hard to camouflage our whiteness. They reinforced every negative we’d heard about Nairobi. It’s a corrupt and dangerous place. They said that gangs that roam at night break down along tribal lines and take over the streets. They encouraged us not to leave our hotel in Nairobi and we definitely will take their advice. We’ll only be in Nairobi one night.

Toby