On leaving Arusha in the north of Tanzania, and making our way towards the Namanga border crossing, we noticed subtle changes in the landscape… an emptiness, an aridity that we hadn’t known in the entirety of our travels in Tanzania. In hindsight those few kilometeres were preemptive to Kenya’s landscape, which was in stark contrast to that of Tanzania. Dry vastness. The absence of villages toppling over each other. Few signs of ‘life’, in comparison to that which we had grown accustomed to in Tanzania.

Namanga… the one stop border crossing between Tanzania and Kenya, was a breeze, comparatively speaking. Firstly, there was the option to apply online for the visa which we had done a few days previously. Secondly, it is a country which requires a Carnet du Passage for entry, which is basically like a passport for your car… a document which we kicked and screamed against getting because of how much it costs, but which made it VERY easy at customs.

Leaving Namanga, we headed straight on the road towards Nairobi. Expecting to see village upon village as in Tanzania… that’s not what we got. Unable to get a Kenyan SIM card as it was Saturday evening, we sort of happened upon a campsite amidst the apparent remoteness (despite its proximity to Nairobi) of our location… it reminded us at this point somewhat of Namibia. The campsite we stumbled upon was a ramshackle conglomeration of outbuildings, owned by an elderly, beer loving, Kenyan brother and sister. They wanted to chat, and chat they did! They were intelligent and knowledgeable, and so we learnt quite a bit that evening about the context of Kenya… one of the biggest things we walked away with is that Tanzanians see Kenya as the America of Africa. Because of Tanzania’s socialist background, and Kenya’s capitalist one… this makes perfect sense. And indeed we were to learn that Kenya really does have a vastly different political and economic atmosphere to Tanzania.

Realising that we wouldn’t be able to get a SIM card until Monday, we decided to get going and find adventure. So come Sunday morning, we headed off on a dirt road heading away west from the capital city. Our thoughts were actually to get to the Masai Mara via gravel and explore alllllll the little in between places. However! We were soon to discover that it wasn’t going to be as easy as we thought. 😬

After many kilometres on dirt road, we approached Lake Magadi, a large saline lake located in the southern most tip of Kenya’s Rift Valley. During the dry season this lake is covered in soda, when in some places the salt gets up to 40m deep. This alkalinity of this lake makes the water pink, and is famous for it’s wading birds… we were privileged to see large flocks of flamingoes and pelicans. 

The township on the shore of the lake is owned by a company that also owns the huge soda factory located there (which looks something like Mr Wonka’s chocolate factory), which produces soda ash. The only road through this entire area leads you to the boom gate at the entrance of this town. After the town (serious ghost town vibes), the road leads directly to the Shompole Community Conservancy. Let me give you some context here…

We discovered at this boom gate that Kenya has 167 Community Conservancies, whose aim are to protect the wildlife and communities within Kenya. Intrinsically, they are pieces of land protected by the community for wildlife protection and other sustainable land uses that can lead to improved livelihoods within the given community. However! If you don’t know about these conservancies, and the people don’t know that you don’t know… it can become rather messy. Here’s what it felt like from our perspective…

We arrived at the boom gate and were told we may not stay by Lake Magadi as the area has been ‘closed’ since the onset of COVID. We accepted that, no problem, as we were just passing through… we explained that we would find somewhere to camp on the other side of the town. Whilst we were explaining this to a member of security, a man came up to our window and said he’ll take us through for a fee. Confused, we explained that it wasn’t necessary. He persisted and explained that if we didn’t use him, we would be charged on the other side. After 20 minutes of adamant conversation (we literally couldn’t figure out with all the questions in the world why we would need a guide????), we drove through the boom ‘in’ and ’out’ gates without the guide and without an issue. In fact on the way out of the town we asked the security guard at the ‘out’ gate if it was fine for us to proceed… he said we were free to drive… there would be no charges. Happy, we drove on. 

After a few minutes drive and some stunning scenery (the sun was setting), we noticed the official-ness of the road began to sort of fade out, and the path became rather a track in the sand which wove along the sandy plains we were making our way through. There was a regular flow of locals on motorbikes passing us from either direction. Until one particular motorbike waved us down and came to chat to us. He was a thirty something year old Masai man, wearing the typical black-and-red-chequered Masai robe underneath a wind breaker. He told us in no uncertain terms that he was the secretary of the Shompole Community Conservancy (remember that at this point we had no idea what a community conservancy was… neither was there any sign post at any point to let us know that we were within such perimeters). We asked in confused undertones a myriad of questions trying to make sense of what he was saying. His response was blunt and quite honestly rude. But we remained patient, and tried to make head or tale of what he was trying to communicate. He asked us where we would camp. We told him not to worry, as we would find somewhere. He said we must pay, not only entry fees, but also camping fees. We asked entry fees to what??? He responded, ‘For the community conservancy.’ We asked, ‘What is that!!!’ He didn’t do a great job at explaining. But we conceded that he take us to the camping spot, which was literally that – a spot underneath a tree in the middle of ab.sol.ute.ly nowhere. There was nothing else, just a spot. He wrote us a receipt on a small piece of paper. We felt obliged (let me just mention at this point that Eugene was not a happy bunny) to pay him the fees he was asking (we were on Masai land, after all?). We were 200KS short, which he happily accepted before he drove off into the dark. We totally felt as though we had just been done in, and wondered what tomorrow would bring, and what our spot under the tree would look like when we woke up.

Let it be said that we awoke to beauty. We were under a clomp of beautifully shady trees, that contented themselves with thriving in the desert. And into the desert we drove, through tiny Masai villages undisturbed by large groups of tourists seeking the perfect snapshot of rural African life. 

Driving through the sand in this conservancy was like driving through baby powder, and when eventually we got out the other side we, and everything we owned, were covered in a thick blanket of sticky dark sand. Out of the conservancy that evening, our first priority was to find somewhere to rest our heads for the night. Finding nowhere obvious to stop, we asked at the nearest police facility and asked if we could sleep in their compound. They refused, and said we must just drive straight through to Nairobi. So we did, and arrived at a campsite just outside of Nairobi at around 10 o’clock that evening… possibly one of the longest days we have had yet.

The next morning we packed up and drove to the nearest jet wash car cleaning place, where they stripped our car and tiny home free of sand before proceeding to Nairobi. And arriving in Nairobi was good! Not only were we able to get Kenyan SIM cards, get cash out and stock up, but we could settle for a few days in an ‘official’ campsite and were able to celebrate Easter. Unbeknown to us the campsite was located in an affluent area of Nairobi called Karen (named after the author of ‘Out of Africa’ by Karen Blixen). In this area, there are many expats and wealthy Kenyans, lots of fancy houses on big pieces of land, opulent shopping malls, organic grocery shops, thriving business’, coffee shops and Dutch bakeries, universities and private and international schools. 

Just half an hours drive away though, exists Nairobi city centre… the central business district of the country’s capital, and ironically also home to some of Africa’s biggest slums. Visiting one of the Football For Hope centres that Eugene worked on in 2010 in the middle of these slums, was a wonderful and humbling experience. Witnessing the work of the people on the ground (all of whom were Kenyans) was simply astounding… the impact they have on the lives of thousands of young people living in the slums is massive. They work tirelessly in less than glamorous conditions to bring hope to those born into slum conditions.

We really wanted to take a drive through the centre of the slums, but were advised against it, as it would have been too dangerous (much like we wouldn’t want unknowing friends to drive through Mannenburg), so we ‘satisfied’ ourselves with catching the hems of the slums garment. And surely, we saw enough.

Back at the campsite, we met a handful of beautiful people from all edges of the planet. Travelling couples and single people roaming the planet, all resting their souls for the Easter weekend. Now Easter doesn’t mean the same to everyone obviously, but for us it’s an amazing time of gathering family and just being together… and we were feeling absence of it this year… we all missed home. So! I decided the only thing to do was to invite all these delightful strangers to an Easter Sunday celebration lunch. To my surprise they were all super keen! So I made a huge pot of food, we bought a few bottles of wine, put some nice jazz on the speaker and set up a table in the campsite garden under some trees. And I am very happy to say that we had so much fun! 3 Israeli Jews, 1 Swiss, 1 Greek, 1 Dutch, 4 South Africans and a Brit… 11 people of all ages and nationalities! Sometimes, it feels like this is what life is about – gathering strangers regardless of nationality, or class or skin colour or religion, in order to forge friendship… cultivating a culture of love and acceptance across all borders.

Our time in Nairobi also included a trip to a giraffe rescue centre, which was just so incredibly charming! We were able to feed and stroke the giraffes at head level – it was so amazing… we all loved it!

Satisfied with our time in Nairobi, it was good to pack up and leave. We decided to aim slowly for Mombasa on the coast of Kenya. The road ended up taking us off the beaten track towards the border again with Tanzania. We found ourselves driving between two huge national parks, Amboseli and Tvato. In this narrow corridor of land is a wildlife sanctuary called Kimana, and here we stayed for a night.

Driving over the African plains that evening, we all drew in such big deep breaths… it was beautiful here. Peaceful. We set up for the night whilst giraffes and buck watched from a safe distance, and the next morning we rose early and were rewarded with a clear view of a snow capped Kilimanjaro, which up until that moment had been enveloped in mist and cloud from both the Tanzanian and Kenyan sides. And yet here she was, gracing us with her presence… phenomenally strong and gentle. Driving the perimeters of the sanctuary that morning we saw so much beauty – in the landscape, in the wildlife. Something that particularly struck us here was actually how tranquilly animals live together side by side.

Forging onward towards our next place of rest to the south of Mombasa, we faced some crazy roads through some of the densest forest areas of Shimba Hills. Over slippery mud and rickety bridges, we finally arrived at Kwale, near the coast of Kenya.

Here we camped in the garden of a couple whose dream and daily work was organic produce… on this plot of theirs they worked the soil with their hands, and truly lived the life they dreamed. Just twenty kilometres away was the busy tourist coastal stretch known as Diani Beach… jam packed with resorts and hotels on the beachfront, it was impossible to even see, let alone appreciate the fact that the beach and the ocean was even part of the landscape there.

And indeed, meandering our way slowly up the coast, spending time and passing through Diani Beach, Mombasa, Kalifi, Malindi and Lamu signs of European wealth abound everywhere, and what we were to learn about this wealth sickened us. Staying on a campsite right on the beach just north of Malindi for 6 days, we got into fascinating conversations with the owners… one a white Kenyan and the other a Kenyan of Indian descent. We learned from them and from quite a handful of others that we had spoken to, that the Kenyan coast is flooded with Italian expats and is rife (and has been since the 80’s) with pedophilia and the sex trafficking of African children. So much so that local parents live in fear for the safety of their children. And so, what we had learned in Tanzania about the roots of the slave trade, came full circle in Kenya with the very real realisation that modern day slavery is happening right underneath our noses.

It was also at this beach camp that we celebrated Eugene’s birthday, and enjoyed the absolute remote beauty of an unfrequented east coast beach… it was quiet and so peaceful. But not being huge fans of camping in sand, humidity and salt water showers, we were thankful to move on when the time came.

We had been warned that roads north from Malindi might not be very safe for fear of Al-Shabaab (a Somalia based Islamic militant group) activity. And to be sure, there was a huge Kenyan police and military presence on the roads in the north of Kenya. At every stop, we were questioned as to our intentions, and the car lightly checked for children that are not our own. Without fail they also ask for sodas and food. 😬

Having chatted quite extensively to a few people about going to Lamu, they all thought that we should fly there from Malindi… there is an airstrip on the island adjacent to Lamu where most tourists land, and are then chauffeured by boat to the island of Lamu… and then on to their accommodation in either Old Town Lamu or Shela, a beach town 3 km south of the old town. But of course being on a budget, we decided to make our way to Lamu by road. Arriving at the small village on the mainland closest to the island of Lamu, we headed for the police station to explain our predicament. They were wonderful and agreed that our car and trailer could stay with them for as long as we were in Lamu. So we quickly packed our bags, and readied ourselves for the next adventure. Hopping on motorbikes, we were taken to the harbour where we could catch a boat over to Lamu. The ‘harbour’ was a chaotic muddy shambles of a place where we were jumped on by a few hundred boat operators… alllllll wanting to take us to Lamu. This harbour is the place where locals use the very same boats to transfer between island and mainland, and where all trade happens. A full boat is 9 people, so you have to climb on and wait for the boat to become full before you leave. We didn’t know this on our way there, so the man who took us called it a private boat and took just the 5 of us, and we felt very fancy! 😉 We also did not know it was a speedboat, so when the boat operator suddenly zoomed off at full pelt towards the island it took us all by surprise… think, settled in and relaxed to enjoy the leisurely putt-putt of boat engine over to the island, which with one push of the lever became a full on James Bond moment (I’m sure it’s only me who thinks that, but I found it super exciting!) The boat took us around the mangrove lined island to the harbour at the old town.

And now, how to describe Lamu? It’s not as easy as one might think. Surrounded in hype as a highly coveted tourist destination, i want to give it the honour it is due. But i also have to be honest to the experience we had whilst there. Firstly, we were there in low season. Secondly, it rained a lot whilst we were there. Thirdly, we had chosen accommodation in Lamu old town, instead of the highly reputed Shela (this wasn’t something we knew about at the time… we literally just booked a place that we could afford). 

And so, on with the story. As soon as we were off the boat, we were once again accosted by people who wanted to ‘help’ us and show us the way to our accommodation… to be honest, we wouldn’t have been able to find our way if it wasn’t for the man who took us there through the tiny narrow maze-like streets of Lamu. 

Relieved to get to the guesthouse, we stepped through the tiny front door and breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Our accommodation was basic, yes. But it was absolutely wonderful… a traditional Swahili house, built around a central courtyard, with narrow steps going up to the various floors, eventually reaching a rooftop terrace that looked over the surrounding rooftops. It was spotlessly clean, and a haven from the outside world.

We were there on a long weekend, and bang on the celebration of Eid. And as Lamu is largely a Muslim

town, the celebrations were lively and loud! The streets and local restaurants were teeming with families, everyone dressed in their best clothes and laughter resounding off the old walls. Mosques rang out with praise to Allah and music echoed over the celebrations. It was extremely special to be a fly on the wall on that first evening, and absorb all that was happening around us. It was extra special to learn how Muslims and Christian’s live peacefully side by side in this town… they celebrate with one another, and the atmosphere of mutual respect is very evident. 

The following morning after walking through the town for a while, we decided to walk to Shela along the beachfront. And we just couldn’t believe it when we got there! Besides the fact that it was pouring down with rain, the place was immaculately picturesque. There was barely a piece of rubbish in sight, the streets were clean, and the buildings well cared for… beautifully renovated and being used for high end accommodation, and almost void of local people living there (in comparison to Lamu town). We enjoyed the pristine-ness and the beautiful little boutiques, seeing the quaint restaurants overlooking the ocean.

We had hoped to swim, but the rain was too heavy and the ocean a bit choppy, so we headed back to the haven of our accommodation in Lamu where we spent a good part of the afternoon blissfully listening to various mosques showering celebrations out over the island. We ate locally that evening, slept and left early the next morning on a speedboat back to the mainland, feeling sad that we hadn’t had more time in what was clearly a place worth exploring, but paradoxically quite relieved that we didn’t have to wade through a sea of filth and stench every time we walked out the door. Our conclusion from this couple of days there is this; if you want the beautifully picture perfect experience of Lamu, you need to throw money at it… it’s as simple as that. And you really will get it – it’s a very striking and endearing place. Our endeavour though wasn’t to get that holiday blog vibe (although if it had to come to us we wouldn’t have complained ;), our aim is always to be, and to absorb what is real, what is fundamental to any place. And without a doubt, we got it in Lamu. We left humbled, knowing that when we eventually get back home there are systems in place to dispose of the rubbish we create… such a simple thing, but so effective. Yet again, thankful.

Arriving back on the mainland, we were back at our car by 09:30, which we simply hopped into and drove over 200km… we had distance to cover, as the main aim now was to push on through the north of Kenya to the border with Ethiopia… this distance is approximately 900kms over desert terrain. Driving first through to Garissa and arriving in the early evening, we started setting up. On opening up our trailer, we discovered that the rain whilst we were away had found it’s way in, and that everything… every little thing… was completely saturated… mattresses, blankets, clothes, books. It was at this point that for the first time in 5 months, I felt like I just wanted to go home 🙁  Anyway, after a hug and a few deep breaths, we covered the mattresses in plastic bags and slept (stiff as a board) all night. The next morning was sunny with a gentle breeze, and everything dried out quite nicely… turns out I could have saved myself that mini tantrum. 😬

There are 2 ways to the northern border from Lamu… from Garissa through the Somalia refugee camps, or back slightly towards Nairobi and then straight up. If I’m absolutely honest, we wanted to go the refugee camp road, but EVERYONE told us not to be so daft. So resigned to the advice of people who obviously understand the culture and political ambiance of the area better than we do, we ended up driving to a town called Meru, north of Mt Kenya… here we stayed for a few days before making the final trek up to Moyale on the Ethiopian border. On this desert road, we passed houses and villages unlike those we had seen before, and saw our first herds of camels. 

Even though the road was long, it was magnificent. Arriving late in the afternoon, we drove straight to the border post, where we confirmed that we would be able to get through with the paperwork we had… but only the next day. So we set up camp in the car park, and promptly fell fast asleep, with the sounds of Ethiopia at our fingertips.

I’m now just finishing this blogpost off having just spent 30 days in Ethiopia, and a day away or so from entering Uganda from the west of Kenya. At this point, I just want to say how blissful it feels to be back in the relative luxury and normality of Kenya after the incredibly [amazing] but raw cultural experience of Ethiopia. And is from here that i write my conclusion of our time in Kenya…

Overall, the time spent in Kenya was enjoyable and overtly comfortable, with supermarkets in every large town… it was easy to buy foods we are more familiar with, and communication was easy – either the continuation of the Swahili we had grown accustomed to in Tanzania, or English. But there are some other things worth mentioning here… 

It was amazing going to Kenya following straight on from Tanzania, as it gave us the ability to compare the way the two countries live… the comparison between socialism and capitalism is blindingly easy to draw. In Kenya, the level of education all over the country is much much higher, and it is possible to have an intellectual conversation with virtually any person you meet. But in the same breath, the gap between the rich in the poor in Kenya is devastatingly clear. Whereas in Tanzania poverty exists everywhere, but it is more or less the same for everyone… we did not see one person in Tanzania left to fend for themselves – the sense of community was enormous in this country. 

As visitors to Kenya, it struck us that in Kenya there are many National Parks (as expensive as Tanzania’s parks), inside of which exists much beauty. But in between parks, there is not much loveliness to behold… just busy litter-lined streets or deserted dry areas, equally as strewn with rubbish. In Tanzania though, one drives consistently through areas of natural beauty where people live off the land in community, and even though there is still no system of rubbish disposal, people live generally in a much cleaner way.

Would we come back here? Of course, we would love to come and experience the parks one day, and the people of Kenya are intelligent and exceptionally kind. Otherwise though, i think there are other countries that are worth visiting for cultural diversity.