Just like the movies

To be in Kenya, or not to be in Kenya, that is the question. Quite frustrating! Or, in the words of one of my friends: “You must feel like you have ended up in a really bad movie. One that you were very much looking forward to, but that turns out to be completely different, without you being able to change it.”
Once I was the lead actress starring in her own remake of movies featuring Kenya. Now all that is left is a supporting part.

Take 1: Out of Africa
A dirt road somewhere in Northern Kenya. We are travelling from Loyangalani (near Lake Turkana) to Maralal in a 4WD. As ever the car is packed with hitchhikers – in this remote area it is normal to offer a lift to as many passengers as possible. After a short period of rain the sun is shining. The landscape is deeply green, the slightly sloping road is dry. The last time we met an oncoming car is more than an hour ago. Somewhere in between the green hills the question is asked: “Do you want to drive?” A bit concerned I am catching the eyes of our passengers, but they nod at me encouragingly. So I take my position behind the steering wheel. A bit shaky, as it has been a long time since I had to shift gear with my left hand. But I manage to get the car moving. For a moment, for a tiny moment, I feel like Karen Blixen in Out of Africa: wow, here I am driving through the Kenyan landscape! Not for long though: within a few kilometres I am hitting a small pothole and one of the springs breaks. The rest of the journey we are crawling along, but I am no longer the driver.

Take 2: The Constant Gardener
Maralal. Together with friends and family we are walking to the house of my sister in law, which is located just outside the town. Children are playing everywhere on the street. As it turns out, they love to practise English with the mzungu. From every possible corner their high-pitched voices are sounding: “Hello, how are you!” This time there is no hidden agenda, like with the ‘Gimme’-kids (“Gimme pen! Gimme sweet! Gimme shilling!”). No, these Maralal kids just want to communicate with us spontaneously. Like a mantra I am repeating my answer: “Hi, how are you!” My brother in law starts grinning: “It is like that scene from The Constant Gardener, when that lady is visiting Kibera!”

Take 3: The White Masai
The local bus from Maralal to Baragoi. Though ‘bus’, that sounds a bit euphemistic. A cabin with small benches has been glued to the chassis of a 4WD truck. This ‘bus’ is driving every other day and provides the only ‘public’ transport service to the north. This means it is completely packed with passengers who came to Maralal to shop for necessities. We shuffle and shake our way to Baragoi. In a small town, the last stop before we reach Baragoi, people are circling around the bus. They all want to catch the ride to Baragoi, which is about an hour away. To secure their space in the bus, they are all shouting and jostling. After some pushing and poking, the boldest succeed to squeeze themselves into the bus. Now even the aisle is crammed. A little girl, who has been sitting in the aisle alongside her mother’s seat (probably they can only afford one proper seat), is about to get squashed. Her Turkana mother has got her hands full of her tiny baby-brother. So I decide to offer the girl the space on my lap. As soon as everybody more or less has conquered his or her own space in the bus, we continue to Baragoi. To pass time, a group of Turkana girls who have acquired almost all the free space in the bus, starts singing. And that is how I continue this bumpy ride: with enchanting Turkana hums in my ears, the girl now leaning into me and a magnificent view of the savannah, where a gerenuk and a pair of dik-dik start jumping away as the bus is nearing. It is hot, dusty and my position is very uncomfortable, but no matter what, this is a moment of pure African happiness.

Those were the days. Now it is back to reality.
The film script of my big adventure has been rewritten once again. During the next four weeks I will definitely be staying in the Netherlands. According to Skillshare the situation in Kenya is still too unstable and insecure. Hence they have announced a timeout, to calm down from the stress of adjusted departure dates and the process of packing and unpacking. Kofi Annan and his African wise men are trying to resolve the current crisis in Kenya. And in four weeks time, Skillshare will monitor the situation again.
Meanwhile I will start my placement from a distance, through online support. The coming weeks will reveal what this exactly means.

Quote of the day:
“Subira ni ufunguo wa faraja” (Swahili proverb)
translation: Patience is the key to tranquillity