With it being the rainy season in Kenya, mud is everywhere. I had not even considered what unpaved roads were like in the rain until I arrived in Kakamega. I stay in Amalemba, one of the muddiest parts of town. This past week mud became an unavoidable thought. It began on Monday, when I could barely walk home it was so muddy. I ended up breaking my flip flop and walking home barefoot. Everyone was laughing and kept asking ‘Mzungu, where are your shoes?’ These two boys have asked me everyday since, what happened to my slippers. I really should get shoes that are more suited for mud, rather than my havianas. Habib tells me he will get me the Masai shoes made from tires, just like his pair, which allow you to glide through the mud with hakuna shida (no worries).
I smartened up a bit and the next day I wore shoes to avoid this situation again, and it was the most rainy day I have experienced in Kakamega. I was walking to town and it started pouring, and I had to seek shelter. I ended up in a cyber café, and was able to read emails while I waited out the rain. When it settled down, we went to the school we are having the camp at next week. We took piki-piki’s (motorcycle taxis) which I always love, except when I got off and realized how much mud splashed on to me from the wheel and ongoing traffic. It made for an interesting experience to walk through a teachers meeting to the head office, with our legs covered in mud. Luckily most people ignored our filthiness. We had a successful meeting, and were hoping to get home early and accomplish a lot of other work. On the way back by piki piki to where we take the matatus (mini-van/bus) back to town, there was a lot of commotion, and we saw a couple matatus taking a back road and struggling because it was so muddy. We paid little attention to what was going on, but when we got to the main road, we found out that there were a lot of police check points, so the matatus were going by the back road so they would not receive a ticket, as none would pass the inspection. We had to pay 30 bob (ksh) more than usual, which was frustrating, and when we finally arrived in Kakamega, I was tempted to ask for my money back, because of the ridiculousness of the route. We ended up sliding back and forth on the muddy roads the entire way. The journey was inflated by two hours because we kept getting stuck in ditches, and having to push the matatu out. I was pretty sure that the matatu was going to flip onto its side, and I would be stuck on the side that was furthest away from the door. We had to keep getting out and pushing it, after the car surprisingly would get caught in ditches, following the haphazard driving. One time when we were pushing, and couldn’t help but laugh when one of the men helping, decided he had better things to, and walked to the maize on the side of the road to relieve himself. To make it worse the matatu driver on this trip was a creep. Matatu conductors are an annoying breed by nature of the job, forced to hackle and call people to get them on board, shove as many people in one van for a maximum profit, and bribe police to get past checkpoints. This one was particularly disgusting. He was sitting behind me in all the madness of the mud, and kept trying to rest his head on my shoulder, while he was breathing heavily. I have to say this was one of my least favorite matutu rides, and I was overjoyed when it was over.
I was shocked when I had to relive the horror of the mud a few days later. All the FSD went to Lisa’s house because her internship ended and she was going to Nairobi the next day. We all went over to say goodbye and I was shocked with joy when we were greeted with chips, guacamole, pizza, and burritos. It was a wonderful treat. We ended up leaving after dark, so we took a taxi home, as Kakamega isn’t somewhere you can walk home in the dark. We started out on a back road short cut, hoping to get home and in bed quickly, as for some reason life in Kenya is quite tiring. We had to stop abruptly as a car was stuck across our route, and in absolutely no hurry to get out of the mess. They had been there for two hours, when their friend promised he would get help, and they said they were thinking he would be back in the morning so they were comfortable there for the night. This made turning around in the mud awkward but we were able to do it. We dropped a few of the interns off, and when we were starting to my house we got stuck again. This time we had already dropped off all male interns, and were four girls plus Malova our taxi driver stuck in a ditch at night in Kakamega. I was not too happy about this predicament, as a few weeks ago five European missionary women were raped and robbed not too far away. I remembered quickly why I am not out after dark. A car passed and he stopped, to tell us we needed big strong men to help us and us poor women oculdn’t do it on our own. I am stubborn and the thought of a gang of men coming to “help” us in such a vulnerable state, so I made everyone try to push us out, hoping to prove this asshole wrong. Unfortunately with the angle of the car and the amount of mud, we weren’t, and were forced to be sitting ducks for the gang of strong men we were told were on the way. Other interns ended up stepping knee deep into wet mud, and falling over. It was quite a sight. We waited nervously for the men to arrive who we were promised would could carry the car to the road and I pictured them carrying all of our things with them as well. When the gang arrived, I was sure it was a bad idea, as they joked and made comments about our vulnerability. They said that this was a real African experience and helped us like the real men they were. When we were safely back in the car holding our things, we realized that we would only have to pay them for their work. We were told the help cost us 600 ksh, and were relieved that with our vulnerability that was all they wanted. Apparently that was the friend rate, as they knew our taxi drivers. My host father just laughed when I arrived two hours after I called saying I was just ten minutes away, and assured me that 400-600 ksh was the cost of a good deed in Kakamega. At least I am getting a real African experience.
