Into Africa

Ethiopian Huts






     Geoffrey was 25 years old, but the way he talked about God, family and living made me think he was much older. We became friends while riding atop a cattle truck in northern Kenya. His smile was permanent and he never ran out of questions. When the dirt road was smooth, the truck would move faster and the wind blew loud enough that we had to yell into each others ears to hold conversations. In the rough places -- crossing streams, or winding around boulders and trees -- we could talk in our normal voices and relax a bit. At night when it was too dark to see we still talked. I was tired and became quiet, but Geoffrey still wanted to talk about everything. Because it was dark and he couldn’t see my face, he would tap me on the shoulder from time to time to make sure he still had my attention. I let the two other boys traveling with us, the Ethiopian and the Somalian, borrow my extra shirts to cover their faces from the dust.  They didn't say very much at all, but smiled a lot also.

     On the first day there was a huge sandstorm at sunset that combined with a thundershower and lighting. It was beautiful-- like a Joseph Turner painting. Sometimes we passed through small villages – when I say small I mean fewer than twenty thatch roof huts surrounded by thorn bushes to keep wild animals out and cattle in. Roofs were patched with plastic bags and whatever trash could be found and made useful.  All the children would scurry to the doorways and peer out at us, cautious, but occasionally smiling and waving.

We continued through lonely, poorly guarded checkpoints every few hours. Usually there were only one soldier on duty, keeping watch in a small hut with a window, and spike strips on the road. As we went deeper into the rural territories, the locals walking on the side of the road would scurry into the bushes when they heard our truck approaching. This worried me somewhat, as it meant they were distrustful of outsiders.

Shortly after nightfall on the 3rd day from Ethiopia's Capital I lost my passport.

      We got to Wajir, Kenya, around midnight and Geoffrey helped me find a nice cheap place to stay, had dinner with me, then came back in the morning to help me get my abstract (travel document).  It was a small town, the largest we had seen in a long time. At the police station Geoffrey helped me explain to the officers what had happened. They all seemed very curious to see me and eager to help. One well-dressed officer, Laish, seemed polite but authoritative. He was friendly at first and studied all my travel papers carefully. As he read my papers he seemed to take a keener interest in my plight. He read every page of my program outline for the law classes in Nairobi.

     After he finished reading, he was pensive and cautious. He took me outside and asked Geoffrey to wait inside. I walked with him for a while and noticed a changed in his attitude toward me. He showed me the jail and said I might be put in if I traveled without the proper documents. I looked over the dirt floors, the tin roof, and the two or three drunks sleeping on wooden benches. Not a place I wanted to visit for any amount of time. He then told me the normal process for obtaining travel documents was cumbersome and that I might be here a while. He was polite, yet firm, as he explained to me that a little extra money goes a long way in getting these sorts of problems resolved.

I couldn't hold back a nervous smile as I tried to play dumb and innocently asked him, “You mean I should pay extra?”

“How much do you have?” he bluntly replied.

I think I laughed out loud out of nervousness, but really I was in awe that I should find myself in this situation; being threatened with possible jail time, in a run-down jailhouse in the middle-of-nowhere-Kenya if I didn’t pay a corrupt police officer a bribe with money I didn’t have.

“I think I have 2,000 shillings,” I lied. Really, I had next to nothing, as usual. I had stupidly thought I might find an ATM in northeast Kenya and had only a few hundred shillings to get me through to Nairobi from Ethiopia; basically enough for water and food for a week.

“Well, there is a bank in town and they might be able to get more money for you.” His helpful advice only confirmed that he was serious about getting something out of me. I told him I would go and see if they would take my card and that I would come back in a few minutes.

     I walked around the building and saw Geoffrey standing there. He had a look of relief on his face as he strode up to me. I told him I had to go to the bank for more money for Laish. Geoffrey was livid and, for the first time, speechless. I explained the situation, after which he sputtered on and on about how horrible a person must be, to ask a lost traveler -- a student! -- to pay a bribe. Then he was sad, because he and Laish are in the same church. He kept say, “It’s not a Christian thing to do!” He stormed into the station and explained everything to the other workers. They were all obviously subordinate to Laish, because no one dared confront him directly, but they all seemed quietly resolute that I shouldn't pay the bribe. Laish came out of the back office and was very upset; especially at me for ruining his plan. The other workers disbursed and shied away at his presence—Geoffrey unleashed on him and would not back down. They conversed in Swahili but I could tell what was going on. It was very tense as they both stood their ground.  Laish finally told me one last time to I needed to pay. Observing the support of the other workers and Geoffrey, I quietly told him I thought it was wrong to pay bribes.  About that time, another high-ranking officer walked past the entryway with his entourage.  Everyone was quiet for a moment. I could sense Laish folding.

 He practically threw my papers at me and said, “Take your shit and leave! Just try getting an abstract the normal way, you will see!”

I was worried that he would make good on his promise to make things difficult for me, but, as it turned out, it wasn’t a big deal after all. After Laish left the office, everyone bent over backwards to repair the poor first impression of Kenya that he might have given me.

     Things quickly calmed down and Geoffrey and I talked as I waited for my travel documents to be completed. He apologized over and over for the conduct of Laish and expressed how disappointed he was in him, since he sees him every week at church and thought he was a good person. I did my best to shrug it off and act as if it was no big deal, but Geoffrey took this as an opportunity to give me one last bit of advice and wisdom. As he had done on the cattle truck the day before, he shared scriptures with me, talked to me about God’s plan and gave me peace of mind about my upcoming journey. It was very comforting for some reason, almost hypnotic, even though the words were nothing new to me.

      The theme of his discourse was that everything happens for a reason and nothing is done by chance; as long as we trust in God, everything will work out right. I didn't say much, mostly just listened. Sitting together on a worn wooden bench, a rough cement floor, waiting for paperwork to be completed, he helped me. I will always remember the meals we shared, our cattle truck ride through the dusty plains and his genuine kindness for a stranger in need.



-Waiting in the dirt on a small side street, I wait for the bus to Nairobi to pick me up – it will be another day and a half of travel.

-A small boy sitting next to me eyes me like a hawk. He moves away little by little, scared of me or suspicious. I offer his dad some water. He accepts but first wipes off the top of the bottle and pours some to the ground. Then he carefully takes a small sip and hands it back to me. I then offer some to the young boy; haha, he emphatically refuses as if I’ve offered him poison and moves to another sitting spot.

-There are donkey carts everywhere here. Hours later. Still waiting for the bus. It will come “Sometime today, we think.”

- I step into a small shop and talk with people for a while about life in their small town. They want to sell me things; old coins, shiny rocks, fossils, shells, cell phones, cell phone cases, cell phone SIM cards, etc. I refuse and refuse politely. Eventually they give up and we just talk and it’s quite nice. They all want to exchange phone numbers (I would amass dozens of numbers in my book by the end of my trip), but I know I will never call any of them, with the exception of maybe a few. (Email is less prevalent, but I still have quite a collection of those addresses as well.)

-Wheelbarrows are made out of whatever is at hand. The wheel itself is made from the cross section of a large log. Judging by how they struggle to move the load, it seems it takes more energy to balance such a makeshift device than to actually carry it.

-In the wilderness we saw small depressed villages, not nice proper ones like in Ethiopia. At least the Ethiopian highlands had natural well-kept cottages, but many villages in this disputed region are very poor.

-Some students on the bus befriended me and we went to see some giraffes at a pit stop in the desert. The bus almost left us!

-We spent the night in a small town called Garissa. It was after midnight and everyone was tired. Old men lie down on small mattresses next to me and fall asleep immediately, snoring softly. Two young boys feed scraps of their meal to a lonely cat. Men sip chai and talk quietly at a small table. Young mothers attend to their sleeping babies. As I was lying there, staring up at the stars, I wondered at where I was in the world. Just a few short weeks ago I was in Las Vegas, unsure of what to expect from Africa. Now it felt like I was back at home, where I grew up, on a camp-out with my brothers or with friends, sleeping under the same stars. I slept so well that night.

-I made it through to Nairobi and was dropped off in the most ghetto part of town (Eastleigh). Potholes in the streets were 4 ft deep and 30 ft across. The small car I was in had to maneuver through them as if he was going off-roading.

-The first night rent at our apartments in Nairobi was 4400 shillings, about $55. I spent last night under the stars at an inn in Garissa; it was 100 shillings, or about $1.50. I greatly prefer the stars to the city.

-The different ways of greeting people are interesting. In Ethiopia they clasp hands and lean to each other and touch right shoulders with a hand on the others back. Egypt was often two kisses on the cheek. Northern Kenya was a shake of the hand then rotate the hand to hold each other’s thumb, then shake the hand again. Other Arabs shake hands, kiss on the cheek then touch their own heart. I used to do this in France; minus the kiss on the cheek. In Zimbabwe it was a hand shake, then clasp the thumbs, then snap the thumbs.