As a special treat, the enlarged and adopted Faraja volunteer crew (for the week) decided to plan a trip to City Park (See earlier post “I got robbed by a little old lady and I didn’t even see it coming”) after a long week. We wanted to do something special for the kids, especially with Abi’s impending departure and Moraa’s absence, limiting our combined knowledge of how to run an orphanage to right around zero. City Park was the most appealing excursion option because the park itself is free, none of the kids had ever been , and they all expressed interest in it (organizing 35 kids with differing interest to agree on a day trip… good luck). We got in touch with one of the coordinators of Fadhili (our program) to see if we could rent a matatu or bus for the afternoon to take us down into Nairobi. When we broke the news to the children, there was a moment of confusion, followed by one of the older children explaining the plan in Swahili, followed by a rush of excitement, shown moreso by the volunteer, Portia, than by all of the children combined. Kids starting getting their hair braided for the next morning, getting outfits ready, washing themselves, their clothes, each other. There were huge productions being put on by the kids over clothing and hair and God knows what else. The following morning, I set out with Dama to the school to run a few errands. The kids were out on break, but 35 kids find a way to stay involved somehow. We took care of business and met the rest of the crew in town, where the transportation would be waiting. As we have come to expect, nothing goes as planned in Kenya, the transportation was late and the kids were nowhere near ready, but no harm no foul and everything worked out in the end. When our transportation arrived, it was a hybrid, half-bus and half-matatu (bigger than a matatu, slightly smaller than a standard bus and decorated/painted like a matatu). We took off towards the park and had made it all the way to the Santack/Kimbo stop on route 111 when it happened… Our bus came fully equipped with a driver and a conductor, but because we were a private bus for the few hours, the conductor didn’t need to do anything. He sat in the back of the bus, official conductor uniform (maroon vest) laying on the seat beside him. It may have taken me 20 minutes, but I finally worked up the courage to ask him to borrow the jacket and be the conductor for the ride. He laughed and said “you want to be a conductor?!”, to which I’m sure I blushed, but mustered up the strength to stutter “y-y-yes”. He tossed the jacket to me with a smile but I swear, it felt like Queen Elizabeth herself had tapped me on the shoulder with her ceremonial sword and dubbed me Sir Benjamin Hewitt. Back in the real world, I was tossed a sweat-drenched, B.O. stenched (if it’s not a word it should be, I like the way it sounds) vest and given a chance to hang out the door of a moving vehicle. Regardless, I stuck my body out that door with pride and did justice to the title “conductor”. We passed stop after stop and people did double and triple takes. Kids ran after the bus and grown-ups squealed, laughed, gawked, tried to catch a ride and even yelled after the bus in confusion or in jest. On the ride home Nikki and Jack had to get off at Karen to run a quick errand. This gave me the chance to really shine. I slapped the door of the bus twice, signaling the driver to stop. He turned in amazement and to see if I was serious and pulled up to the Karen stop. Jack and Nikki exited and a swarm of Kenyans ran up to the bus to get on, they stopped dead in their tracks when they saw a mzungu conductor and eventually I needed help from the “real” (notice the quotation marks) conductor to help explain that the bus wasn’t available. I slapped the side of the bus and yelled “Twende!” (let’s go!). The driver turned and laughed, shouting “una fanya kasazuri!!” (you’re doing a good job… spelled phonetically). This was the (selfish) highlight of my whole trip. I can’t stress how much fun I had, how hysterical the reaction was and how quickly this is going on my ever expanding resume of being a matatu conductor… But lets get back to the “real” (again, quotations) story… The kids, and the monkey park… sureeeee, like the kids are what’s important here after such a monumental moment you say? I agree….
But anyways, where were we? Eh-hem… oh yeah, so we arrived at City Park and found a little field where we busted out peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, juice boxes and cookies for all the kids. It was a stretch from the ugali and githeri that is served daily for lunch, but the western style picnic lunch was well received!
Once everyone had their fill, we purchased bags of peanuts for all the kids to attract the monkeys to play with. The monkeys must have been wise to the plan because as soon as Portia brought a bag out of her pocket, a monkey snatched it and bolted into a tree… I think it was the same pick-pocketing Colubus that ripped me off of a granola bar, having been emboldened by theft success. We snuck the kids the remaining peanuts and set them loose on the unsuspecting monkey population. It was one of the most fun afternoons I could have possibly dreamed up. The monkeys were chasing the kids, the kids were chasing the monkeys… total pandemonium. Kepha was petrified of the monkeys—who were his size—but the kids were determined to get him to interact with them. The kids quickly learned that you could lure a monkey onto your shoulders using the peanuts as bait, and this revelation quickly changed everything. Someone finally got Kepha to hand a monkey a peanut and his fear melted into laughter. Emboldened by his new discovery he yelled at the monkey in his signature broken English and monosyllable Swahili “Gunnnnkeey! Cuja!” (come), then he would point to his should and yell “HAPA!!” (here). As soon as a monkey so much as looked at him he would squeal and run (waddle) away laughing in a high pitch shriek… we carried on with the monkeys as long as the kids energy would allow—way longer than the volunteer’s—and then climbed into some trees and played with the monkeys in their home environment. On the ride home, I manned my post, while almost all of passengers fell asleep for the entirety of the ride. We arrived back home safe in Ngong, due to my conducting skills (I would like to believe), and started the preparations for dinner. It was an incredible day and a good time had by all.
Pictures coming soon... They are on my FlashDisk and I thought they were on my computer... Oooooppps.
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