Emily in Africa

I have officially discovered my favourite food in Kenya. While the daily lunch fare of stewed lentils and chapati (for 80 cents) can be hard to beat, barbequed meat really has few comparisions. It's called "Nyama Choma" which is Kiswahili for "delicious barbequed meat on a stick that takes a long time to cook". You order it by the kilogram (dangerous, I know!) and then eventually this steaming mass of tasty barbequed goodness is delivered to you on bones of various shapes and sizes. After two nyama choma outings, pork and chicken are my favourites. I still have to try goat but it seems like so many bones and so much work...

Also, the side dishes it comes with have also been quite a nice surprise. My favourite is "katzambari" (the phoenetic spelling) which is a refreshing salad of tomatoes and onions. And then of course there is the Kenyan beer of choice, Tusker. It's a good lager and definitely refreshing if you remember to ask for it "baradini", or cold. Otherwise it comes room temperature (boiling) which just doesn't do a lot for the beer.

Ah, mass transportation...while it seems to come in various shapes and sizes all over the world, Kenyan has won the prize for Most Colourful and Loudest Reggae Volume. The matatu is a wonderful thing - while really just a glorified minivan, it's so much more than that. On any route in the country there'll be dozens of matatus at any section and passengers can choose between matatus based on decorative theme and the blasting reggae music. Apparently, school kids have a rating system based on the name of a matatu, but how could you possibly choose between "Batman Forever", "Get Back!", "Apocalypse Now" and "Crunk Juice"?

(OK, so this is a much-too-calm picture of a matatu, so don't get disillusioned to the lack of insanity. I'll take some more lively pics this weekend)

So once you decide on a matatu, next comes to fun part: Trying to squeeze into a seat. While a matatu minivan appears constructed for 14 people, this is clearly only a suggestion and the best matatu conductors can fit at least 20 people is not more (since the more people, the more money they make). And since my mum is reading this, I won't even mention the safety record of these things, but suffice it to say I make avoiding the "death seat" in the front a priority.

The most exciting matatu adventure/debacle was last weekend when I was in town and after a long, hot, dusty, tiring day I hopped on a Bamburi-bound matatu to take me home to Bamburi beach. Which was a big mistake. See, although you would think a Bamburi matatu would go to Bamburi beach, it actually goes in the opposite direction to Bamburi town and to get to Bamburi beach you have to take the Mtwapa matatu. Who knew? Apparently Jeff the friendly conductor who took me on a joyride to Bamburi town knew, but he didn't think it was that important. See, his route doesn't get many foreigners, so he had to make the most of the opportunity to hit on me.

Jeff: You are very bu-tiful
E: Great. Actually, I'm very hot.
Jeff: (winks) I know...
E: No, no. I'm hot! (Makes fanning motion with hand).
Guy: Yes, yes. Very hot. Can I have your digits, baby?
E: No, hot like grumpy. Very grumpy. Very tired. I would be a bad date.
Guy: Ah yes, you are very funny my friend. Seriously, I want your digits.

So it looks like Kenya missed the memo that "What's your digits, baby?" went out of style in like, 1985. Unfortunately I didn't know the Kiswahili traslation of "Not going to happen" or my other favourite "Dream on", it was smarter to begrudgingly be kind and give him my Queen's qlink email address (like I ever check that!). But other than getting hit on, matatus are actually quite fun. I mean, do the buses in Canada take speed bumps as not onlyan affront to their driving abilities, but also as a chance to gain as much air time as possible? I didn't think so.

The place I'm spending my time these days is Mombasa, the 2nd-largest cith in Kenya and located right on the coast with the most important port in East Africa - goods from as far away as Uganda and Rwanda will be brought here and shipped (literally) overseas. I'm actually quite removed from the hustle and bustle of the city -- I live and work on Bamburi beach, about 20 minutes north of Mombasa proper.

Officially, I'm working with the Wildlife Conservation Society's Coral Reef Conservation Project run out of a breezy office on a palm-tree lined beach, the way science is supposed to be done if you ask me! The people I'm working with are amazing and so is the project. It's only been a couple of days, but it looks like I will be working on organizing the fisheries data that the WCS has been collecting over the past few years and looking at how different fishing gears are affetcing biodiversity and catch at several sites along the Kenyan coast. I can't believe how much I've lucked out - people working on coral reef fisheries are pretty rare, let alone talented, motivated and fun people like the ones at WCS.

We go for lunch every day on the beach at a laid-back beach shanty serving up traditional Kiswahili food like beans, chapatis, rice, stews and a tasty little sugary peanut dessert called biali and fast becoming a favourite. The beaches are beautiful but what's most striking is the colour of the sky. It's a little overcast and sticky in the morning but by mid-day the clouds have burned off and it's the most beautiful blue I've ever seen.



If Christina (the fisheries person at WCS I'm working most closely with) and I aren't in the office, we'll be monitoring the fisheries landings. These are places where local fisherman will bring their catch in during the afternoon where we'll try to get our hands on as many fish as they'll let us to count what type of fish they're bringing in and how big they are. While they're only legally allowed to be landing medium-size fish, the site I went to yesterday on Mtwapa Creek uses illegal (apparently that means "only a suggestion" in Kenya) beach seines that bring in any fish it comes in contact with, from large barracudas to extremely undersized parrotfish less than 6 cms long. But it's the human side I hadn't expected. While we're greeted very nicely by the beach manager who keeps track of the economic side of things, it's still a battle in Kiswahili (that I don't quite understand) to convince them to show us the fish. The fish come onto shore in various grab bags, only some of which they want us to see. So we have to be very sneaky to try a see a real representation of what's coming out of the water.


The sneakiest of the sneaky are the Mama Katangas, the women who wait for the smallest unmarketable fish to fry up and sell on the street. They're not stupid and they know quite well it's illegal to have these fish so they try very hard not to let us see them. Even though we have no authority to confiscate the fish (and wouldn't even if we could), they still don't want us to see or let alone measure what they have. Which is a shame since this is likely what the real cost of beach seining is - wiping out the juvenile fishes which means in a few years there won't be many around to replenish the stocks. So it's important to see what the Mama Katangas have and Christina is quite intelligent about it and brings several large bottles of Coke and Fanta to share with the women while we're waiting around on the beach before the men bring in the catch. Then when they've got their share of fish, they seem to be slightly more willing to let us take a peek before they hustle it back to their frying pans.

It's so exciting being at the fish landings and I can't wait to do more next week. Not only is working on the beach in the middle of the day an efficient way to work on my sunburn, but it's also really neat to see the human side of fisheries and not just read about it. And holding all these dead fish or seeing them strung up on palm fronds like a necklace is pretty cool too. But I definitely have to work on my Kiswahili - aside from the niceties I get lost and fast. I also have to look up whatever "Siidi" means, which apparently is my name at the Marina Bay landing site. I guess "Emily" wasn't working for them. Anyways, next week will be landings on the South Coast (this week was the North Coast) and I can't wait to see more of the beaches...I mean, see more of Kenya.

I must admit that even the intrepid traveller in me was slightly frightened by the nickname of Nairobi, "Nairobbery", in reference to the amount of crime the city sees. Armed with this knowledge, I decided I would be the happiest traveller alive if I could only leave the city with everything arrived with. And I am very pleased to report that I was not robbed in Nairobbery and even beginning to think that this "safety" thing in Kenya isn't as hard as people make it out to be, which likely means I'll be robbed next week.

But anyways, I arrived in Nairobi after some long flights not knowing quite what to expect or even what time is was. I had arranged an airport-pickup with a hostel in town and was jointly excited to see both my checked-backpack and hostel group waiting for me. I guess the first thing I noticed about Nairobi was the breeze, it was definitely that hot, humid breeze that I was looking forward to after leaving Toronto in February. So after the usual airport scavenger hunt of 1. Bank (check), 2. Tourist office (non-existent) and 3. Food (not hungry), I hopped in a car and headed off to Nairobi Backpackers just outside of the centre of town.

You can't get a real feel of Nairobi at night, but the hostel was great. Lots of friendly travellers which would work out well for the days to come. And other travelling stories are a great way to get a feel for the country. My favourite one was from two guys who had taken the bus from Ethiopia to Kenya which hit an impala on the highway. Since killing safari animals is strictly illegal here, everyone had to get out of the bus to try and decide what to do about this. At least, this is what they thought. First the poor thing was still alive so they got someone to humanely kill it with this guy's Swiss Army knife (apparently everyone else had left their machetes at home). Then something had to be done about the carcass since they couldn't leave it on the side of the road (illegal). So apparently it was decided that they would divvy it up and people could all have impala-meals for the next day. Then people starting tracing outlines on the impala with their hands it was carved up. While the hindquarters were the most fought-over bits, nothing beats the driver ripping the still-warm liver out of the body and eating it right there on the road! Anyways, even though I wasn't there it was to good a story not to pass on. I'm not quite sure how much that typifies Kenya, but I started to get the hang of it after that. Actually, the oddest part of the story to me is that the guy telling it was a South African named Sean who is a younger clone of Chris Eckert! I guess you just never know who you'll meet...

My next two days in Nairobi were spent sightseeing. Highlights included the local Maasai Mara market which is built on what seems to be an abandoned excavation site in the middle of town. Vendors set up their wares on dusty blankets in the dirt and paths between them run up hills, into gutters, around shrubs....it's all quite different and certainly unlike any other market I've ever seen.


I also had my visit-the-safari-animals day, which included a baby animal orphange and a giraffe sanctuary. The animal orphanage is inside Nairobi National Park and rehabilitates injured/orphaned rhinos and elephants before returning them to wild herds in another National Park. When I went, there was one rhino and 10 elephants in the orphange - other than being really neat for tourists, the rehabilitation seems to be working as they've managed to put nearly 100 animals back into the "wild" over 30 years. But the giraffes were definately the coolest -- there's a platform where you can feed giraffes food pellets right out of your hands and for the brave, get them to "kiss" you and they take the pellet right out of your mouth. Both hilarious and not as wet as I thought - giraffes seem to have a dry slobber. As it turned out, our guide from the backpacker place used to work at the giraffe centre so after the platform feeding, we crossed the road (leaving all the other tourists behind) and went for a hike in a nature sanctuary across the road. While it was mostly hot, dusty and dry forest there were acacia trees and thorn trees -- very Africa! And then we found two giraffes and fed them right there in the forest. They were taking a day off from the platform area and on their "honeymoon" so we didn't stay too long but it was really really neat.


The other thing about Nairobi was the dryness - after missing the "small rains" in mid-November, Kenya is in a serious drought with most of the country facing famine and a terrrible crop season. Currently in Nairobi, this means there are water limitations and the entire city is covered in a thin film of red dust. It also means that the Masaai people, herders who graze their cattle and goats for a living, have been forced to bring their animals to feed in Nairobi. Aside from being an excellent chance to see the famed Maasai warriors, the urban Kikuyu "tribe" (ie. people who work in the city) are not pleased and there seems to be a simmering tension around the city.

My other highlight was spending a night in the very humble ex-pat abode pictured below, with some friends of the family who kindly offered to put me up for a night and show me around Nairobi.

So then it was time to head to Mombasa on the night train and start some work.There may or may not be a post about the train ride, but suffice it to say that the deluxe accomodations in 1st class makes VIA look good. And if a train is billed as having "colonial elegance" it likely means it was built in the 1800s and hasn't seen a cleaning since.

PS. For more pictures check out the Flickr link on the left.