Posting from Doha

This time, in Nairobi Airport, there is no internet, which is a pity as I have two hours to kill.  I managed not to die during my Nairobi adventure and in fact, it was relatively painless especially by African standards.  I got my bag very quickly after landing from Kisumu, after which I walked outside and stood by a security guard while I waited for my driver, Ken.  He arrived within about 5 - 10 minutes, with a sign bearing my name.  

It was quite a walk to the carpark, and I did express to Ken that my mother cannot walk very far!  He and Enock, the B&B owner, assured me that they would take care of her.  The drive took 15-20 minutes, initially through streets which looked barely African, with big shops and modern signs.  But soon the streets became dirty, trash loaded on what passed for a sidewalk, rickety market stalls on street corners and matatu’s and boda boda s weaving their way recklessly through the traffic.  The final street to our destination was unpaved and uneven, although Ken told me it was “not finished yet.”

The apartment was in a big gated compound, with guards at the black metal gate, and razor wire topped walls all around.  I was expecting a hotel, as that’s what I thought mum had booked, so it was a little strange walking into an apartment building, although everything seemed quite modern.

Enock met me at the lift and took me upstairs.  I’ve no idea what floor his apartment is on.  It is quite a modern four bedroom apartment with a small living and kitchen area as you walk in.  My bedroom was on the left, with a large ensuite toilet & shower.  A wet room, essentially, but not as minuscule as J&S’s!  The bedroom door had a lock on it, which was nice as it was a little odd being in a strange apartment with a strange man I didn’t know, although he told me there were two other guests, I didn’t see them.

I chatted to Enock awhile about my family as he seemed very interested in the missions etc.  He has a very soft slightly slimy voice - hard to describe, and I’m probably being harsh!  Poor guy!  Anyway, I excused myself early, after about an hour and got a shower and an early night, killing an unfriendly looking mosquito on the way.  The mosquito net set up was like a four poster bed: so it was a much better arrangement than the sheet-like drape at J&S’s that tends to get tangled up with you every time you roll over at night.

Enock offered me food last night and again this morning, but I declined both times.  I was unsure - although he didn’t mention it - whether he would charge me, and I was almost out of KSH - but also I brought butter and honey sandwiches from Mudete which made for two nice meals - although slightly same-ish.

On the subject of KSH, having found myself a small ebony statue in Kisumu and having spent about 200KSH on it, I was somewhat amused to see similar sized models in Kisumu Airport for 3500KSH each!

It was hard to say goodbye to J&S yesterday - it already feels a long time ago - so we cut the goodbyes as short as possible and they dropped me off in the carpark.  I hate hate hate goodbyes, I know if I linger I’m going to get emotional and just GAHHH!  Anyway, it was ever so nice to see them and to spend the all-too-short ten days with them.

Going off on a tangent, another odd thing about Nairobi is the security checkpoint you must go through before entering the airport domain.  First, the passengers (ie me) get out of the car and walk through a security building.  There is the normal scanner machine and doorway for the human beans to walk through.  The ridiculous part of it, however, was that the doorway beeped for most people going through, who hadn’t emptied their pockets, or whatever, and nobody seemed to care.  Nobody was stopped, or sent back, or re scanned.  And the cars, with drivers and all the luggage, were given a cursory glance by the guards on the road, and then loops around to pick us up.  One wonders - what is the point?

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I am now in Doha and about to post this.  I have almost four hours until my flight and am choosing not to proceed closer to my gate as the security checkpoint wants to confiscate my water and I object.  So instead, I am sitting beside the checkpoint using the free internet until I am thirsty enough to drink my water!

My next post will probably not be until Brisbane - but you never know!  I have so many thoughts and memories that I need to put down - for instance the small boys in Kakamega - maybe 8-12 years old - begging while drinking from plastic bottles of hooch.  Just tragic, and you desperately want to give to them but can’t, knowing they would only spend it on alcohol.  So what do you do, if you want to do something??