Cycling in East Africa – Nairobi to Kajiado.
After a week or so in Nairobi, the time had come for me to start my cycle tour for real. I had acclimatised myself, got my bearings, started to lose my “just arrived” look and my feet were seriously itchy. I had scouted my Nairobi escape route via the posh well-to-do suburbs as there was no way I wanted to take the main A104 road out of the city to head south. No way. Instead I skirted the edge of Karen and through Langata heading out of Nairobi in a southwesterly direction on the C58 road until I could turn left onto a smaller road which would then take me to Kajiado, my planned destination for the next night. As I rode through those suburbs, once again I was struck by the opulent wealth of the white folk and caught glimpses of the shacks in the garden housing their staff. Some houses had guards outside, even in daylight.
Eventually I came to my turning, which was to the left. It wasn’t sign posted, so I wasn’t too sure if it was the right road. So I cycled past and up over a short hill, checking out any alternatives. This was puzzling with no signposts and further more there was nobody to ask. After a bit of prevaricating I decided it was worth a shot and traced my way back to the turning and went for it.
Within a short distance, the tarmac deteriorated and stretches of gravel and soft, dry sand became the norm. Many of the stones were sharp and jagged which started to get me worried as my tyres stumbled their way along. I remember having some difficulty in keeping a straight path and sometimes coming to a complete halt in the sand or grit. Had I got all this wrong? Was I being foolhardy and overly optimistic? Perhaps I ought to have splashed out on one of those new mountain bikes which were starting to appear in magazines and some shops? Was I up to it, could I manage this after all? These doubts whirled around in my mind for sometime as I sat there on the side of the road in what I guess was the bush. I was amazed at how great it felt being out of Nairobi and into the wide open countryside; the savannah.
While the doubts were in my mind, I was enthralled by the thrill of the opportunity. There I was, in my early 20s and I had Africa before me. I had my life before me and it was an exciting thought. And yet I had come to a halt. It was also getting hot. Okay I had my shorts on but these weren’t anything remotely like proper cycling shorts. Far from it; they were a pair of old corduroy trousers with the legs cut off and crudely hand stitched hems. In fact I even think they might have been slightly uneven! Off came my jumper, quickly followed by my tee shirt and replaced by my sunhat (my only specially bought piece of clothing). This was the start of my uneven suntan which was noticed by some nuns in Tanzania; more about this another time.
Pressing on the warmth of the sun felt so good with a hot breeze in my face. The road mostly improved and I found that I could cycle reasonably well for 99% of the road now. This was partly due to an improved surface but also a quickly learnt technique in dealing with the soft, gritty sand.
As the miles ticked by, I was revelling in this new experience all-the-more. I saw some giraffe, some unusual birds, just a few cars and no other cyclists. I was truely loving this whole new experience! After some time I arrived at the road junction with the A104 and this meant I wasn’t too far from Kajiado. I didn’t even bother to check the map, I just turned right and rode easily into Kajiado.
The town of Kajiado was the real Africa I had come to experience, though like Nairobi, it had it’s interesting challenges. The first of which was where to stay? I cycled up and down the main street, feeling almost like a cowboy in the wild west having just arrived in town. There was a raised pavement on either side of the road which shops, bars and so on set back a little. Often there were verandas with a few people sitting here and there. Every now and again I spot a tribesman strolling along with colourful beads, stretched ear lobes and optional sandals. I couldn’t make up my mind where to stay, there were quite a few possibilities but it was hard to tell which would also serve as a noisy bar or brothel. Naturally I was wanting to avoid these but I knew I wasn’t able to read the signals correctly while it was broad daylight.
I spotted the Police station and thought I would ask there for any suggestions. The Police station was more of a Police post with large grounds containing the accommodation for the officers and their families. I went inside to the front office and was instantly afforded close attention; I wondered how many white young men with very English accents go in asking about local accommodation. I explained I had just started out cycling from Nairobi and this was my first stop and seeking their good advice about where to stay, or alternatively where I could camp (they were most surprised I had a tent on my bicycle.
After some discussion in Swahili they invited me to camp in the Police post grounds. I would be safe there and away from the loose women and undesirables. An officer named Simon was assigned to take care of me and once I’d pitched my tent I was welcome to join him and meet his family. Their own accommodation was a basic brisk-built box with a door, a window and a very high ceiling. They lived in this one room with their baby and toddler. On the walls were magazine posters of things to “aspire” to – expensive houses, cars, perfect hour-glass figures and light brown skin.
Their hospitality was generous, eager to learn and ask me so many questions of England and what life was like. I recall they asked some unexpected questions about the numbers of elephants we have, how is the Queen these days (as if I would often drop in for afternoon team with Her Majesty). Once the children were being settled and other chats with neighbouring officers had taken place, it was dusk and in an instant pitch black night. I crawled into my sleeping back to sleep peacefully to the fading sounds of night life in Kajiado. My first real day was complete and already so much to savour.
RSS – Posts