Day 29 – Nairobi to Marsabit (Kenya) (507 km)

27.01.2012

Jules writes:

We attempted our earliest start yet, aiming for 7 o’ clock, which ended up being a 7:45 start. Today was going to be a tough day, as we were going to be traveling along the “Hell Road to Moyale”. I can never remember whether it is the Hell Road, or the Death Road, but I believe the point that is trying to be made is that, all-in-all, it is a pretty kak road. The road runs from Isiolo to the border town of Moyale, and over its 400 km length, provides all the incentive one needs to never do overland travel through Kenya ever again. By all accounts, this would be the worst road that we would ever face on our journey. As we hopped on our bikes, mine was extremely reluctant to start, and I knew we would need to check that out at some stage.

The ride out of Nairobi was great, good weather, not too hot, good tarred roads and beautiful scenery, although we had now left the verdant tropics behind us. We made good time, stopping for a lunch of yoghurt and digestive biscuits along the way. At around 3, we hit the start of “the road”. And it was everything it had threatened to be. Our speed immediately dropped, in Dad’s case to a around 30 km/h, where it would stay for the rest of the ride along the road.

At a few point along the trip I had seen children on the side of the road asking for money as we passed, but about 30 km along the road I saw a group of about five people, some children. One, standing right in the road, waved me down. As I slowed, I saw it was a young woman maybe around 20, bare from the waist up except for some bead. She was shouting “Money! Money!” insistently, so I drove off as fast as I could, not before some child tried to whack me with a stick. Now, I can imagine several situations that would involve a bare-breasted young woman demanding money, yet somehow I had never imagined myself as part of it. Later, I passed a group of young men. As I approached, I saw one of them bend down to pick up a stone. As I got closer he gestured, asking for money, but when he saw that I was going to drive right past, he hefted the stone at my head. I managed to duck out of the way, but clearly there were going to be some right bastards on the road. I found out later that that group of kids had grabbed John’s handlebars as he went passed and he’d come off his bike, whereupon they had grabbed his water and some other small items off his bike and run off. A passing priest in a 4×4 had stopped to help him up and suggested a guest house, the Pastoral Centre as a place to stay that night. I know that a previous group that had come through had prepared for this by bringing a small catapault with, and had smartly seen off anyone that had tried similar tricks. This might be a good idea for future travellers.

Due to our reduced speed, it was now starting to get dark. As we pulled over for a brief stop, we noticed that my back tyre was going flat. In that light we weren’t going to be able to change anything, the best we could do was to to inflate the tyre again and hope that it was a slow leak., which mercifully it turned out to be. With the light almost gone, we continued along the road, stopping every now and then to let Dad catch up. The stars were truly glorious, and during the ride we even saw some wildlife on the side of the road. During one stop, I waited for about 10 minutes in the dark by myself, hoping that no larger animals were prowling around in the dark. I think Dad’s biggest worry would have been being chased down by a herd of ravenous tortoises, a real possibility at his speed.

At one point, after we had waited for Dad for a but, Shan asked him if he had fallen, and if he was fine. His response: “ I haven’t fallen, but I’m not fine”.

Finally just after 9pm, we arrived at the centre. We struggled a bit to find the place in the dark, but were assisted by a local character called Abdul, who, once we had established which place we were looking for, seemed to  be incapable of hearing anything we said. While waiting further up the road, Shan’s bike had fallen over, yet despite telling Abdul that we were waiting for her and my Dad., he kept shouting “Come, come. Here, here”. Eventually I had to shout at him to shut up, which had absolutely no effect.  

While we were inspecting the room, he kept babbling away, not really listening to what anyone was actually saying. Here is a sample of the conversation:

Shan: Hi Abdul

Abdul: Hello my friends

Shan: Where are you from?

Abdul: From Utopia. Back to Marsabit. Back to Africa

Shan: We are from Africa.

A: I want your photo. You must give me your photo

S: Why do you want my photo?

A: I want to remember you.

S: You can remember me without a photo.

A: I like Chester Unite

S: I don’t understand

A: Torres

S: Oh, soccer

A: Bob Marley birthplace. Back to Marsabit. Back to Utopia. No problem.

The only time that he seemed to listen was when I gave him 200 shilling for helping us find the place. He looked at the money in dismay, then said “No, this small money, want 1000 shillings” Now for comparison, we were each paying 1000 shillings for a bed and breakfast the next morning, so I simply told him “Look, either you take the 200 shillings, or you get nothing, you choose”. He continued to whine and cajole until I got fed up and threatened to kick him out. He left, still moaning, only to return a few minutes later with the elderly night watchman, who spoke no English, but clearly also wanted his cut. We fobbed him off, telling him that we would deal with him in the morning, which seemed to satisfy him and they left, leaving us to our beds and the flickering lights and the glow-in-the-dark Jesus on the wall.