Cycling in East Africa – Kajiado to Namanga
Okay it’s now back to cycling in East Africa – Kajiado to Namanga. This is also a stage of my tour I remember pretty well, all the way from 1984.
It started off, as you might already know, with breakfast in the Police station at Kajiado, in particular with Officer Simon and his family. Afterwards I packed my backs, rolled up my tent and sleeping bag to be on my way.
I was pretty confident about this ride as I was getting acclimatised to the conditions which were so very different to the UK in a typical dreary, grey, damp February. Once the day was properly underway I’d be down to a single layer with my bulky jacket and only jumper stuffed into my pannier bags. Feeling the warmth of the sun on my face and skin made me feel like a millionaire and it was truly liberating.
Prickle heat
All the fun of switching from one climate to another, which was an improving switch, suddenly paused for a moment when I looked down at my bare arms and saw I had blisters popping up everywhere. This was weird. There was no sensation in that there were no bites, I didn’t think it was a rash and I didn’t think I’d come into contact with anything which could irritate my skin. Then I had a light build moment: it was prickle heat. This happens when the pores in the skin can’t perspire quickly enough and in my case they hadn’t had time to adapt from one climate to another. Normally this would happen in an unseen way as we go naturally from one season to another. While I wasn’t too concerned about my health (you don’t when you’re in your 20s and everything is in full working order) I knew I shouldn’t do anything to pop them. They soon disappeared later that day as I was sweating nicely as I pedalled along.
The pedalling along bit was truly wonderful. I had a hot breeze in my face which was lovely, if not allowing me to cycle quickly. There wasn’t a need to, I only had 50-60 miles to do and the road surface was relatively good. As far as I can remember, this was the first day I actually got up into the 52t chainring, the “overdrive” range of gears which I could only use once I’d hit a decent speed. The landscape, for the most part was gently rolling savannah and the conditions were perfect. I felt truly free.
As I got towards Namanga, which is due south from Nairobi and is the border town with Tanzania, I started to feel a little apprehensive about what it would be like on the other side of the border. I was aware of cautionary tales from a handful of other travellers about the life of a tourist not always being an easy one. Still, knowing my success with the Police in Kajiado was concerned, I thought this would be a good starting point as I arrived in Namanga.
More friendly Police
Finding the Police station was easy. It was right in the middle of the main road, beyond which was the border. As I was leaning my bike against the Police station wall an Officer came out and spoke to me.
“Are you Mr Hook” in a demanding, slightly intimidating way. I was worried, thinking I must have done something wrong. Whatever that could be would be totally unknown to me.
“Yes, I am” was my slightly hesitant reply.
He then explained he had had his superiors on the radio, from Kajiado and telling him that I was heading towards Namanga.
“We have had orders to look after you Sir, we don’t normally get white men on bicycles here and it is our honour to care for you”.
A place for my tent had been identified, handy for them to keep an eye on me. After I had met the Officer’s colleagues and exchanged pleasantries, one of the junior Officers was asked to wheel my bicycle over to the designated spot. They were keen to help me erect my tent and were amazed as they’d never seen anything so small. The senior Officer came over to inspect the tent and to invite me for a meal, which I duly accepted. Once again it was fascinating hearing all about their lives and for them to have a glimpse of English life.
Quickly it got dark and one of the off-duty Officers took me around the shops, which as far as I can remember, were partly in the no-mans land between the Kenyan and Tanzanian border posts. He advised me on the best place to change some money and politely turned his back and looked the other way while the deal was done. I got a good rate and he advised me to stuff as much in my trainers as possible (one place the Tanzanian guards wouldn’t look).
It was also suggested I could buy some toothpaste, not because I was in need but Tanzania was in short supply and toothpaste was the currency of the day (apparently). I bought a few over-priced tubes of Colgate, to be appreciative of the care. I never knew whether it was a good deal of not. For all I know it could have been the Officer’s family selling the inflated toothpaste to an unsuspecting tourist like me!
A woman to keep you warm, Sir?
And finally when it was time for me to turn in, the Officers had another thoughtful gesture.
“We have a woman lined up for you, to keep you warm through the night. Would you like us to bring her over to your tent?”
I declined, though at first I was a little puzzled as it didn’t seem that cold. Then a split second later I realised what they were talking about. So no, definitely not!
RSS – Posts