A Kiefer in Kenya: Set out runnin' but I take my time (a friend of the devil is a friend of mine)

Set out runnin' but I take my time, a friend of the devil is a friend of mine,

If I get home before daylight, I just might get some sleep tonight.

A weekend in hell.

See, originally, a weekend in hell was supposed to be the title of this post, and it was supposed to be a mere pun. However, at times, this past weekend (the 12-13) was hell. In a good way, ish. If hell had a bunch of your friends, scenic view of the African plains (complete with zebras and giraffes) and a relatively decent hamburger, I would abandon my reasonably decent Christian ways and indulge in the vulgarity of the impure life. Who, besides Dante and the Bible, and mythology, says hell has to be bad? It was beautiful. Quite the opposite of what you would think a place called Hell, would portray. The constant beauty in this country has done nothing but astound me. While I recognize that America is a beautiful place too, there is just something about the beauty here that is above the rest. You cannot help but smile every time you look out a window or realize that, "Why yes, I do get to live here, aren't I incredibly lucky?"

Hell’s Gate National Park, that’s my little (wonderful and beautiful) hell on earth. Mind you, I have yet to find my own heaven on earth, unless lying in my cluttered pink bedroom with my overweight black cats counts (so I guess I have found one heaven). Due to recent security restrictions, we are not allowed to travel by public transportation that utilizes the city center as it’s starting point. Though I miss the adrenaline rush that comes with speeding towards oncoming traffic at an accelerated rate and the daily high of risking my own life for the sake of getting from point a, to point b. PLUS, I enjoy the luxury of taking taxis to the majority of my destinations. However, the matatu lifestyle is incredibly exciting. It is one of the best ways to interact with Kenyans and pick up on sheng (slang) kiswahili. Also! If you are lucky, you get to sit with a baby on your lap! And babies here are the cutest.

Frances, our trusty cab driver, is more of a father than a taxi driver. He demands we obey our curfew, provides us with strict, but fair rates, is on time and needs the occasional reminder of what our names are (I mean, when there are x amount of blondes and y amount of brunettes, it is bound to get confusing, however he always remembers Steven, lucky guy). So we took Frances and his chariot of cabs to Naivasha, which if you remember correctly, is where I spent my first few nights in Kenya during orientation.

The trip was far less overwhelming this time around. Perhaps I should take solace in the fact that the I have grown accustom to transportation in Nairobi, or perhaps I should be concerned that I no longer value my life enough to question my own mortality and openly welcome death. That is what driving in Kenya resembles – a highway of lethargic yet courageous operators who assume that the other drivers value their safety less than the next. As someone who drives somewhat (very) recklessly in the states and disobeys a plethora of driving laws, this driving approach is unattractive to me merely because while I am reckless, I am still a self-aware driver. However, I appreciate the integrity of George’s (my adorable grey vibe who I miss horribly) structural make-up or whatever you call the frame of a car, far too much to let a community of reckless drivers fuck it up. That being said, Frances is a good driver.

Thus, we arrived at Fisherman’s camp (our campsite destination). We quickly dropped our bags off in a random tent, claiming our Plymouth, placed strategically far from most of the other campsites yet close enough to the toilets (we go to college, we’re smart). Upon inhaling some homemade peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (peanut tastes funny in Kenya, and the bread kind of sucks, but we survive), we lathered on bug spray and rubbed in the SPF and rented 5 dollar bikes, thus beginning our (first) weekend away. Yay, bikes! Right? Well, kind of. Traveling via bicycle did prove to be an excellent way to see the sights. You could go at your own pace, you got exercise, you looked like a college kid, and you got to ride your bike next to a bunch of zebra’s and giraffes. However, these bikes had no padding on the seats, nor did the gears function properly. After about 10 kilometers, most of us couldn’t stand the pain (in our bottom sides) anymore, and were thankful that there was an opportunity to go on a hike of a gorge.

And it was a gorgeous gorge (see what I did there?) We got to climb up and over some rocks, see where Angelina Jolie climbed up a rock while filming one of the Tomb Raider films and saw some incredible views. Oh! I forgot to mention, Hell’s Gate was where the creators of The Lion King spent 2 weeks to obtain inspiration for the characters that continued Disney’s legacy. So, naturally, every time we passed a large rock formation, I would ask if it was the Pride Rock. I am lucky people in my group like me so much, years of my mother just appeasing my annoying tendencies has made it harder for me to control them. So, yay Lion King fun fact! It was apparent that they were able to convey the beauty of the park in the film - you couldn't help but sing Circle of Life, not a bad existence. Not a bad existence at all.

Anyway, following the tour, our butts still hurt, so we walked our bikes much of the way. I eventually decided to climb back on, offering myself a pep talk the entire time:

“Laura, you only have to make it to that zebra, then you can stand up and wait for the others. Okay, now that zebra. You’ve got this! Just remove yourself from the unbearable bum pain you are currently experiencing and look at all of the beauty around you! WATCH OUT FOR THAT ROCK!”

You had to be very conscious of the gravel path we were biking on, so, unfortunately, you had to look down, more than up (it’s not like they provided us with helmets.)

BUT! I made it. We all made it, by the grace of God (or perhaps because the devil just didn’t want us to stay in hell…Again, not that a lifetime there would be a bad thing at all. There are worst things than being surrounded by constant beauty and inspiring wildlife.

Set out runnin' but I take my time,

A friend of the devil is a friend of mine,

If I get home before daylight, I just might get some sleep tonight.

And sleep we did. Fisherman’s camp is QUITE the party spot. It kind of resembles Kepners, actually. A bunch of white, young people, drinking a lot, pretending to dance, and then walking to the respective sleeping arrangements (no parent/older/younger sibling pick-up). Oh Keps. But, it was quite the scene. One of the restrictions currently placed on us in Nairobi prohibits us from going to bars or clubs, so you would think we would be craving some nighttime debauchery.

Yea, not so much, we went to bed at 8:30. We all had a giant sleep over in a 10 person tent. It was adorable.

Enter day 2.

Mt. Longonot! But, more importantly, Kara’s birthday. See, my friend Kara turned 21 last Sunday, we had originally planned on going white water rafting on the Nile, but the big-wigs at AU Abroad hate fun (kidding [kind of]), so we had to make her the birthday the best we could in Kenya (not really hard to do when you are in a beautiful country). So, we wore some party hats, ate some cookies and sang to her before embarking on our crater climb!

Mt. Longonot is one of the 30 active volcanoes left in Kenya! And according to local legend, it last erupted in 1860! But that is only a local legend, from the 1860’s. Kind of like the legend of the American Civil War. So we began to climb! And it was beautiful, and fun, and we all laughed.

And then I couldn’t breath. And then we climbed some more. And then I could breath even less. Eventually, it was just my friend Crista and I – and we stopped once we reached the first peak. I kind of blacked out. I think I have determined that I need to get my asthma checked out when I return to the states. The mixture of the inimical air quality in Nairobi, the altitude, the sudden incline of the climb and my family susceptibility to asthma acted as quite the catalyst for my respiratory demise.

Oh well. Despite my inability to make it to 2nd peak, the view was not any less incredible. It was like looking out and seeing the entire universe in front of you. You can see how it is the cradle of humanity. There are rolling hills and mountains neatly organized around valleys and canyons. It is so peaceful. You don't even need to speak, it is almost like you don't need to breath. You just sit there and ponder your own existence and realize how fortunate you are to be sitting on that dusty rock, and seeing nothing like you've ever seen before.

After about 2 hours of chatting, meeting new people, eating sandwiches and enjoying ourselves, Crista and I made our way down the mountain. It was 300 times easier, we even ran at points. We were a wonderful little welcome party or our exhausted friends who had made it to the top and enjoyed the beautiful views from the tops. While I would have liked to have made it to the top, I was not willing to kill myself in the process. Despite my bodies protest, I was still able to observe something beautiful. Sitting on that peak for 2 hours, I got to enjoy two hours of beauty.

That is what this country provides. A never ending supply of breathtaking views and life-altering experiences. Yes, we are bored a lot, and as I write this post, I am fighting a dying computer battery because our power has been out for 3 hours. But while that is annoying, I get also get to sit around and talk for the first time in years. No one is checking their smart phones (bc those don't exist for us), no one is running to a meeting or an event. At night, we only have each other. And though we have to cancel skype dates and delay our anticipated school work schedule, we get to know each other. I only have 4 months with these 15 classmates, but it's amazing how well I know them, and how much I care about them. It's wonderful. We get excited about our futures, yet take solace in the fact that we are kind of afraid to grow up. But who isn't. I still want to be a cat when I grow up.

Or change the world.

There are times when you get hit upon

Try hard but you cannot give

Other times you'd gladly part

With what you need to live

Don't waste the breath to save your face

When you have done your best

And even more is asked of you

Let fate decide the rest.

I’ll be home in less than a month. I leave for Rwanda in 4 days. I cannot begin to process how I feel about any of this. While I cannot explicitly explain what I have learned, I know I have changed. Kenya has changed me. My walk to school changed me the first day. I don’t want this transformation to end.

“We do not believe in ourselves until someone reveals that deep inside us something is valuable, worth listening to, worthy of our trust, sacred to our touch. Once we believe in ourselves we can risk curiosity, wonder, spontaneous delight or any experience that reveals the human spirit.”

― E.E. Cummings

(thanks Afrika)

I forgot my camera...so these are all borrowed photos, thanks friends!