There are moments in my life that snap me out of my bubble and shake the foundation of my African world. My roommates and I call these moments “Wait, I’m in Africa? ---moments”. You never know when one will hit, and when they do, they are a source of exhilaration and sometimes a tinge of panic, depending on how safe the situational source of the emotion is. All of my friends here have had them, to varying degrees, and they are usually coupled with great stories.
My most recent “W.I.A. moment” was an exhilarating one, sans panic, despite the Western standards of safety it most likely disregarded. I was on the back of a pikipiki (a small motorbike used as a taxi to get to relatively close destinations or pass on routes that cars can’t manage… this trip was an example of the latter). We were driving on a nonexistent road overlooking Maasai Mara on a beautiful sunny day. I thought to myself as I looked over the wildlife infested, rural African, no-civilization-in-sight expanse of land with my arms clinging to Nikki for my actual life, while she clung to our driver, Kamau, for hers… ‘I am really in Africa right now, I came here by myself and I am living here, what was I thinking?!’ It’s not a bad feeling… the what was I thinking part… because I am enjoying my time. At that split moment I just couldn’t believe my decision making skills.
We were making the trek out to our friend, and soon to be Mombasa travel companion, Jack’s placement in Sikeri (no idea how to spell it) which is located in the Maasai, about 30 minutes away from Ngong as the crow flies, just over the Ngong Hills. That 30 minutes quickly becomes a 2 hour journey because the roads are crater ridden and at some points impassable. We actually had to get off the motorbike and climb up a hill, then get back on the bike and continue because we couldn’t pass on the road. On a scale of smoothness from a baby’s bottom to an emergency landing on an airplane this road was more cracked than a pubescent boy’s voice trying to sing Alicia Keys (what up Birthright crew!) Anyways, on the motorbike, we passed over the Ngong Hills, out of the city and into the country. The hills are a natural separation from where Nairobi ends and The Rift Valley begins. We were coming down the hills into the heart of the Maasai territory, with Acacia trees lining the “road”, when it hit me. The feeling of “wait, I’m in Africa!”
When we arrived in Sikeri, we spent some time taking in the slow paced lifestyle of the country people, breathing in the smoke and pollution free air and killing time by watching the sheep pass, instead of listening to the argument outside our window. It was a different world… even from the different world that I am currently living in. On the ride home that evening, as I was walking up the hill following the motorbike, I looked over the land, Ngong Hills in the distance, trees and valleys and red dirt roads as far as the eye could see, and I thought to myself ‘Wow, I’m in Kenya and there is nowhere else I’d rather be”. It wasn’t the first time I felt that way, and I’m sure it won’t be the last.
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