Wendy and colleagues judge participants in one of Young Women in Enterprise’s regional business plan competitions in Juja, a small town northeast of Nairobi near Thika. Since some girls only spoke Swahili, Wendy often could only take notes on their confidence and demeanor.
The banana program is a typical, well-run “value chain” in TechnoServe Kenya’s portfolio. Senior Business Advisor Henry Kinyua explains to visitors how his team helps farmers grow high quality bananas, then sell and transport them to market.
As part of TechnoServe Kenya’s banana program, staffers teach farmers how to install valuable irrigation to improve harvest size and quality.
A female farmer in TechnoServe Kenya’s banana program is guided on how to install drip irrigation, to plant the best seedlings, and optimally care for them to improve the crop yield.
TechnoServe Kenya staff teaches farmers how to sort the harvested bunches into quality and size groupings to get the best prices when they go to market.
Rick and Wendy visited several of TechnoServe Kenya’s Upscaling program’s clients including Aspen Orchards & Dairies that produced yogurt drinks, seen being hand-sealed and labeled, for local markets.
On our trip to the Outspan Hotel in Aberdare National Park in central Kenya, we briefly visited Nyala Dairy, another TechnoServe Kenya value-chain success.
One typical means of east African transportation is “boda boda”— often-overloaded taxi-motorcycles seen here on the outskirts Kampala, Uganda. “Boda boda” is loosely translated from “border to border” since these vehicles transport lots of legal and other goods from borders of adjacent countries.
During Wendy & Rick’s trip to Murchison Falls National Park, 300 km northwest of Kampala, Uganda, they had to wait for a not-always-timely ferry to cross the Nile River to their hotel.
Local villagers fish for Nile Perch along the Nile River in Murchison Falls National Park, Uganda.
TechnoServe partnered with Kenya’s Ministry of Youth Affairs to send Believe, Begin, Become teams across Kenya in order to recruit thousands of youth to compete in regional business plan competitions. This was the crowded recruiting event in Nyeri in central Kenya.
Unexpectedly Wendy was called up to the stage to dance at the Believe, Begin, Become recruiting event in Nyeri, central Kenya. She proved once again that white people can’t dance relative to native Africans.
Nakuru, Lamu, and Tsavo
Not having a car made it inconvenient to get out of Nairobi for short excursions. However, we eventually got so restless that we resolved to rent a taxi for the day and visit nearby Lake Nakuru Park. We had heard that the park was especially attractive because of its abundant flamingoes, in addition to rhinos, buffalo, and the usual gazelles, etc. Although the park is only fifty miles north of Nairobi, it was a two-hour drive. That gives you an idea of the quality of the roads. Actually, the poor quality of the main road was even recognized in Kenya, and it was being reconstructed. This was great news for the future, but it didn’t help us much. We did enjoy the short section of road that had been recently rebuilt. However, for the rest of the trip we alternated among bouncing along the old pot-holed road, cruising on the dirt shoulder, which had been widened to take cars around the construction, or creeping through a long detour on an acceptable, but slow, road through rural towns. I was glad our taxi driver, Steve, had the responsibility for contending with the roads, not me. Wendy and I just lounged in the back seat, absorbed the bumbs, and breathed the dust.
As we went through the small rural towns, poverty was clear and omnipresent. Commercial areas usually consisted of the African version of the strip mall, including a few concrete block buildings often brightly painted to advertise a national brand such as cell phone service, bottled water, or even paint. In front of the buildings was typically a large flat open space of bare dirt. In the United States, it would be the area for parking cars, but there were very few cars. It was often occupied by “kiosks,” roughly constructed stalls where mostly women sold fruits, vegetables, and sometimes a variety of other goods. In some areas, there was activity only on market days. In other locales, the activity was daily. In either case, we saw a lot of people moving around in a small area, but it was never clear how much money was actually changing hands. Coming into and out of these areas were donkey carts, hand-drawn carts, bicycles, and an occasional truck, all loaded with various supplies or produce.
The markets seemed to be working, but at a very low level. People weren’t starving, but they were barely getting by. Roughly half of the people in Kenya lived on less than a dollar per day. As we told our friends about our experiences in Africa, we tried to make sure that we didn’t just describe the beautiful scenery and the fascinating wildlife. We wanted to give them a total, clear picture.
After driving through the town of Nakuru, we arrived at the park and began our journey through the forested and open areas surrounding the lake. At first we saw just a few relatively unimpressive animals. As we approached the southern end of the lake, we saw a herd of rhinos, more than we had ever seen together, just grazing in a field of grass. We knew enough about African game to see that these were white rhinos. We learned that they had recently been reintroduced to the park from South Africa.
After lingering to watch the rhinos, we proceeded around the lake to the western shore where, in the distance, we saw a pale pink blur blanketing the edge of the lake. We weren’t sure if we were seeing mineral deposits or some pervasive plant life. As we got closer, however, we began to make out the individual bodies of flamingoes. The number of flamingoes was astonishing, probably more than a million, densely packed together just feeding and preening. Occasionally, one would run around the crowd seemingly very purposeful but headed to do who knows what. More amazing was the sight of a few flamingoes taking flight. Seeing them standing in the water, it’s hard to imagine how such an ungainly creature could actually fly.
After observing the flamingoes from the mudflats that form the lake shore, Steve suggested that he drive us up to the bluffs that overlook the whole park for an expansive and impressive view. As we drove up the road with a sign to Baboon Cliffs, Steve said he would stop at the viewing point. Driving up to the heights, we occasionally glimpsed the fantastic panorama. Unfortunately Steve had only been to the park one time before and consequently we missed the viewing point and the turnoff back to the park entrance. When we eventually got to an intersection, we realized that we were in the far southern end of the park, having gone about twenty kilometers out of our way. Fortunately, the route to the exit was clearly marked, and we followed it. The trip back to Nairobi was bumpy but uneventful. Overall, we had enjoyed a great experience.
As we got out of the car, we noticed how dusty it was. We then realized that it wasn’t just the car that was dusty. Wendy and I were both covered from head to toe with a layer of fine red grit. As I showered later, the tub ran a rusty red as the water flowed away from my body.
Later in the evening, Wendy was lamenting the fact that Kenya didn’t have the wonderful frog sounds that had been a near constant evening refrain in Swaziland. The intensity varied by season, but there always seemed to be background croaking for any nighttime outdoor activities. Once, during frog mating season we had gone to dinner at Finesse, a restaurant beside the Mbabane River, and we had to yell across the dinner table to be heard above the frogs seeking mates. Wendy loved the frog sounds so much that she made them the ring tone on her cell phone. Strangely, just as she was complaining, we heard some faint frog sounds in the distance and Wendy smiled. She felt she was back in her element. The frog sounds stopped, but they came back for a while later in the evening and then stopped again. The next day we got an e-mail from our daughter saying, “I called your cell phone twice last night, but you didn’t answer.” Needless to say, Wendy became more attuned to her cell phone ring tone.
After finally getting outside of Nairobi, we decided to do it again for a weekend. We wanted to see the Kenyan coast, and friends had recommended Lamu, an island only a mile offshore. Lamu is a well-known, yet uncrowded, vacation spot. It doesn’t have large full-service resorts that cater to families and honeymooners, which is why it’s so peaceful and pleasant to visit.
For the Lamu trip, our fun started at the domestic terminal of Nairobi’s Jomo Kenyatta airport. As with many airports, the terminal for short, domestic flights in small planes is much more low-key than the ones for large jets. Wendy and I went to the airline counter, and after viewing our identification, the clerk wrote out our flight tickets to Lamu by hand and pointed us to the one gate for all of their flights. There were no signs announcing departures or arrivals, but since the departure lounge was small, the airline employees just yelled out the departures as the planes were ready. At the time when our flight to Lamu was supposed to take off, the attendants were calling out for the flight to Malindi. We were curious but just assumed that flights were backed up and our flight would be next. Finally, the gate attendant called out the last call for Malindi. Then she said, “That means all of the rest of you are going to Mombasa, right?” We quickly ran up and said that we were waiting for the flight to Lamu. She said, “Oh, the flight to Malindi continues on to Lamu.” No one had mentioned this previously. We scampered out to the plane.
After briefly stopping in Malindi, our flight continued up the coast to the Lamu airport, which is actually on Manda Island. Although we’ve landed on smaller and more primitive airstrips, Lamu Airport remains the smallest and least developed airport, with regularly scheduled flights, that we have ever visited (definitely less developed than Matsapha in Swaziland). At Lamu, the departure lounge is a concrete slab with a thatched roof, supported by four poles at the corners of the slab. Blocks of concrete serve as benches for waiting passengers. There is no arrival lounge. Arriving passengers just wait at a particular spot on the dirt to identify their luggage so that it can be loaded into hand carts to be hauled the two hundred yards to the dock. At the dock, luggage is loaded on to one of several small boats that take passengers to their destinations on Lamu Island.
Wendy and I stayed in Shela, about two miles from the larger Lamu Town. It was nearly the end of their tourist season. With the long rains starting soon, all tourist accommodations would close for two months. Because the tourist traffic was low, we were able to get a very nice suite at a reasonable price. Our beachside suite had a bedroom upstairs and a sitting room on the ground floor. Our upstairs bedroom flowed into an enclosed balcony overlooking the bay between Lamu and Manda. The architecture was very much like the Moorish style we had seen in southern Spain, except for the very distinctive front door. Traditional doors on Lamu are carved wood with a large latch and padlock on the outside. The whole ambiance seemed very exotic.
After we arrived and unpacked, our first thought was for lunch, so we walked across the guesthouse courtyard to the dining room. As we walked, we heard a strange noise and noticed two large (approximately two foot long) turtles copulating. It captivated my attention, and I went back to the room to get the camera for a picture. Since turtles are slow at everything, I had plenty of time to get the camera and take pictures. Then we had a nice leisurely lunch. As we walked back, the turtles were still at it!
Lamu Island has no buses or taxis, so from a dock near our guesthouse, we took the short boat ride to Lamu town rather than walk two miles on the road in the blazing sun. Disembarking at Lamu town, we climbed an old staircase, crossed the wide, open, and busy walkway along the waterfront and immediately inserted ourselves into the narrow passageways that threaded through the town. Walking in the town felt as if we were in a rabbit warren or a maze. Fortunately, the town was built mostly on a grid. I was able to remember how many times we’d turned and in which direction, so we kept our orientation and found our way around. We still had to avoid the omnipresent donkeys, which were the trucks of Lamu.
Lamu was unique in many ways. The Kenyan coast was known for the Swahili culture, a mixture of African and Arabian traditions, dress, food, etc., which originated from the Arabian traders who sailed the east coast of Africa for thousands of years. Lamu was the best example of well-preserved traditional Swahili culture. In Lamu, the Swahili language was dominant; there were more Muslims and people of mixed-raced backgrounds, and it wasn’t uncommon to see black African women in full, traditional Muslim dress.
In fact, Lamu town, on Lamu Island, seemed like a two-hundred-year-old town from the Middle East. Houses were mostly built from stone and dead coral, harvested from local waters. Many houses were multistory and built facing each other across footpaths barely wide enough for two people to pass. The major thoroughfares were wide enough for two loaded donkeys to pass, but their saddlebags would brush against each other. No streets were accessible to cars, but that was not a problem since the only car on the island belonged to the district commissioner.
