Jeff and Don arrived with suitcases and bags, which freaked us out a bit. Climbing Kilimanjaro with a suitcase – not great. Luckily it turned out that one hockey bag was hiding the backpacks. Since the bus to Arusha didn't leave until two (the 8 o'clock one left without us), we arranged a minibus with a driver to show us the centre of Nairobi. ($50).
The very centre was a bit reminiscent of Mission Street in San Francisco – government skyscrapers, clean, lots of black guys wandering around and two Baťa stores. But once we drove a bit further on (about 1–2 km), the real Africa began. Mud, puddles big enough for an elephant, shacks made of cardboard and corrugated iron, cars unbelievably crammed with people and stuff, etc. Surprisingly, despite all that mud and dirt, everyone walks around dressed very cleanly. On the very edge of town there was also a big dump, where vultures and local women rummaged through the rubbish in rare harmony. Oddly enough, you hardly see any children anywhere here.
At two we hopped into a Toyota minibus, where, surprisingly, they accepted my ticket, which I'd got as a copy of a hand-filled form emailed to me by the travel agency in Arusha. In the end it also turned out that we travelled with a different company than the one the ticket was from. The driver was about 18 and, as it turned out, he was doing this route for the first time. He got horribly lost in the centre, so he showed us the totally authentic market three more times, where they sell pretty much everything in the mud.
After about an hour of wandering around in traffic jams (they drive on the wrong side of the road here), navigation was taken over by one female passenger, who was apparently originally a local, but now looked very civilised.
The journey was extremely interesting at first. The asphalt ended about 5 km past the airport, and about 400 km through bush or savannah awaited us, inhabited only by Maasai warriors and wildlife. The only civilisation was around the Kenyan–Tanzanian border.
The views from the bus were gorgeous. Maasai wandering about in red robes with their indispensable spears, women working, endless savannah, but above all an unbelievably potholed dirt track. It's an absolute miracle that the Toyota survived, because he drove like a lunatic and we were bouncing up to the ceiling. On the map there's a nice highway between Nairobi and Arusha and someone apparently planned it nicely too. However, the gap between the plan and reality is even bigger here than back home in Bohemia. Here the work isn't held up by fanatical morons of the Children of the Earth type, but rather by an enormous unwillingness to work, historically cultivated mainly among the men. Every 50 km or so there'd suddenly be a finished bit of highway, maybe 2 km. So we'd pass a big Road Closed sign, drive over either a big pile of dirt or a row of stones, which was originally meant to indicate to the locals that you don't drive here. Once we even had to pay protection money. At one roadblock stood a boy of about twelve with some sort of stick or whatever, he haggled with the driver for a while and when he gave him some small change, the kid removed a few branches and off we zoomed along 2 km of asphalt again. In some parts of that road it really looked like we were going to tip over. For the first two hours it was a real experience. For the second two hours it was quite interesting. But the last three hours in the dark, when there were no more Maasai villages to be seen, it was a real pain in the arse.
While it was still light we passed lots of Maasai, striding proudly along the road in their red robes with their indispensable spears. Given that Maasai warriors never work, I have no idea where they were all constantly marching to. At the Kenyan–Tanzanian border they took our passports and $50 and left us waiting for an hour.
We got to Arusha around nine in the evening and a guy from Shidolya Tours was already waiting for us and drove us to a Catholic church. Godfrey was waiting for us there and we discussed plans for climbing Mt. Meru tomorrow and Mt. Kilimanjaro right after coming back from Meru. Hundred-dollar bills were just flying about.
