Thursday, April 15
I had been out all night. And today, this evening, we were going home. It was all coming to a close too fast. I spent the morning with Monica and her sister Selpha, running a few last-minute errands. We dropped off Monica to do some things while Selpha and I drove out to the UNICEF office at the United Nations, where Maurice works. The UNICEF facility was highly secured so we were unable to simply park and walk up to his office. I had to call him from a visitors center. Maurice walked out to meet us and we talked for a few minutes. On the way back Selpha wanted to buy a kiondo to take home with her. She saw a farmers market and slowed down. It looked like there might be kiondos for sale here so we pulled over into the parking lot. The market was situated under sun shelters in the open air. And what a variety of fruits and vegetables were for sale! Beautiful large papayas, peanuts, passionfruit, beans, peas, maize, bananas, and sugar cane. Selpha couldn't find any kiondos so we looked around for a while and then headed back to the car. Then I got the idea to buy sugar cane. We had all come to love the sweet juicy sugar cane back in Muhoroni and here was the last chance to buy some to take home. The stalks were quite long and the seller cut them into pieces about 1-2 ft long. Small children in the parking lot were selling roasted peanuts. About a tablespoon's worth cost 2 shillings. They were neatly wrapped in small pieces of newspaper. We bought these too.
By mid-afternoon I had to break away. My patience was gone and I was restless. I wanted to spend some time in downtown Nairobi on my own. I told them I was sleepy and wanted to take a matatu back home. But after I got out of the car I forgot about sleep. I wanted to take in as much as I could before my time ran out. So I walked, trying to find my way around without getting lost. I went looking for the Florida club for a drink. After about an hour I found it. At least I found the sign advertising it. But I couldn't find the entrance. Then I tried Zanze Bar. The sign said entrance on the fifth floor, but which building? Frustrated, I walked on. I wanted to return to the Modern Green Bar and I tried various streets looking for familiar landmarks. But I was unsuccessful.
As I passed by the Nairobi Cinema for the third time. A young man walking by smiled at me and asked "Do you play football?" I smiled back. Outside the United States the word "football" is used for what Americans call "soccer". While I had played soccer with friends on weekends and after school I still said "no" because I sensed his question was about whether I played professionally. He replied, still smiling, "You look like you play football." "Actually," I told him "I'm looking for a club that I went to yesterday but now I can't find it. Have you heard of a club around this area called "Green Line?" (I had got the name wrong). "No" he said. "But there is one called 'Modern Green'. Is that it?" "I don't think so." I said. "I would help you find it but I have to go for a job interview." "Thanks anyway. By the way, my name's Bruce, what's yours?" He replied "Joseph". "Good luck on your interview" I replied as he waved good-bye, walking toward the group of buildings surrounding the Nairobi cinema. I was determined to find that bar. So I headed on, exploring unfamiliar streets.
A few blocks away a man introduced himself to me and told me about a special three-day safari tour to Lake Nakuru. I told him today was my last day in Kenya. He continued on about tours to Kisumu, Kakamega, and Lake Victoria, adding that he was a Luo and originally was from Kakamega. Upon hearing this I greeted him in Luo, "Idhi nade" (How are you?). To which his surprised answer was "Adhi maber." (I am well). Now his curiosity was peaked. Who was this white dude who could talk Luo? "Are you a missionary?", he asked me. I found this amusing to imagine myself a Christian missionary, preaching the gospel to the heathen in Africa. I explained I was visiting to attend a funeral, then it all came out about me being married to a Kenyan. We talked further then I finally asked on which street I could take a matatu back to golf course. I bade him farewell and walked a few blocks. It was about 4:30pm and crowds were starting to gather. I found what I thought was the right matatu and asked the driver if he went to golf course. "Yes, I'll let you know when we are there" he said.
The matatu was crowded, but fortunately I got a place to stand near the door in front. I was tired and looked forward to a cool bath. We drove past the Panafric Hotel and then headed into an unfamiliar part of the city. At first I wasn't alarmed since the tout said we were going to Golf Course. We were actually traveling far away from Golf Course up into Ngong Hills. I realized my mistake when we passed The Royal Golf Course - not the Nairobi suburb named Golf Course. I was far from downtown. I got out at the next stop and crossed the street to catch a bus back. This was a government bus, not a matatu. The bus line is named Nyayo (footsteps), actually a company owned by the government. After about 15 - 20 minutes, I was back in the downtown area. I got out and walked to the Hilton. None of the hotels in Nairobi have public telephones. This allows them to charge high fees for you to go through the operator on their house phones. I went back to the streets, and after three tries I found a working telephone. I invited Maurice and Henry to the Hilton for a last drink together. I arranged for Monica to pick us up at 7:00 pm. But Monica never came. We took a matatu back to Jericho then found out Monica had gone to Cephas' house for dinner. We made new arrangements in which the driver would take everyone to the airport, then take me to Cephas' house. Unfortunately, by the time I got there everybody was finished eating and we were now running out of time. It was an embarrassing moment since the dinner was in my honor and not only was I late but I barely had time to eat. We said quick good-byes (almost unheard of in Africa) and left for the airport. Monica was irritated with me and didn't hesitate to tell me I was acting disoriented after staying out all night "with that garden boy." But I had too many things on my mind to bother defending myself. We had to first return to Molly's to retrieve a book I had loaned to her neighbor -- a rather lengthy detour. But about halfway there I realized to my horror that I had left my camera and the tickets back at Cephas'. We turned around and headed back. I was again embarrassed to return for the forgotten tickets. They must have thought me a real flake to be late for dinner and forget the tickets. Now we had one hour before the flight leaves and we had to drive clear to the other side of Nairobi. Our car had held out well for this trip from Nairobi to Lake Victoria and back. Now we just needed to get to he airport and that would be it. We were making good time and were approaching the airport entrance when the engine died at the stop sign. This produced a state of near-panic as everyone envisioned the equally unpalatable alternatives of walking, hitchhiking, or being towed those last few miles. I got out and flagged down a car. Requesting that they alert the airport authorities to call a tow truck. We got in and we waited. But the driver tried again to start the engine. And it just so happened he was successful. We continued on, praying that the car would hold together just for a few more minutes. It died again -- but restarted immediately.
We arrived at the airport and began checking in our bags. All of Monica's family except for her mother were there. The next problem we encountered was Kenya Airways, which had put us on standby. Monica had confirmed our flight the previous morning, but the airline had failed to update the computer. After some argument and waiting, we finally got our boarding passes. We said our good-byes one last time and went through the metal detectors, me getting searched as usual. They probably thought I looked like a drug smuggler. The morning papers had reported that Kenya was experiencing a jet fuel shortage. As a result, our plane was now defueling. The airbus had flown from Mombassa to Nairobi with the tanks full. Fuel was being removed for other outbound flights. After about 2 1/2 hours of waiting the airbus was ready and we headed to Mombassa to pick up more passengers.
A heavy rain was pouring as the plane landed in Mombassa. It was about 3:30am. Tourists, mostly European, began filing inside. Many were wearing newly purchased Kenyan clothing and jewelry. Now we had to wait again while the plane refueled. Once we were in the air, many of the passengers began smoking up the last of their Kenyan cigarettes, with names like Embassy and Sportsman. The jet headed north toward the Mediterranean. In a matter of hours we would be at Heathrow Airport in London (where I would be thoroughly searched again). The flight from Heathrow would then take us over the Atlantic Ocean and Canada to finally arrive in San Francisco.