11 May, Wednesday Moyale t0 Marsabit
We’ve heard about it; we’ve read about it; you can only do it with armed convoy escort : horrible, scary – the road from Moyale to Marsabit – the ONLY road into Kenya from the Moyale border.
‘No, you do not need an armed guard anymore. The area was declared safe for non-convoy travel,” the immigration official at the border told Willie and I guess they will know. So here we are – all 5 of us if we include ‘Jaws’ –ready as we ever can be. I do not feel fear, nor trepidation – a wariness, a guardedness because of the uncertainty.
I almost want to use the words of the Bible: ‘nothing can prepare you’ for what is happening to us. They actually call this a road? We start out and it is not too bad – it is badly potholed, but tolerable. Willie is extremely careful, because this is where the rubber literally strikes the road – we shake along 25 km/hour as big trucks flew past us. It is quite breathtaking to watch
them perform the truckers rock-and-roll as they grow small and disappear in the unknown.
It is green and lush as we pass through a nature conservation area and we are on the lookout for animals. We pass several small villages and what is strikingly different from anything we’ve seen before is the traditional homes and clothing women and men wore. The clothes are very colorful with intricate beads and decorations around their heads and necks –beautiful and I wish I am in a position to take better pictures. The houses look like beehives, and although flimsy looking can sustain nature elements for as long as 60 years.
The distance we have to cover: 150 km. It takes us 2 ½ hours to cover one third. This is going to be a long day. It is getting drier and desert looking and also warmer. The road has deteriorated to something you cannot explain – you can only experience it. We bump, shake, jiggle, wiggle, wobble, bob, sway, quiver, tremble, shudder, shiver into all directions. Our speedometer reads 20 – 25 if we are lucky! This is going to be a long day…
The world around us has become as harsh and unfriendly as the road we are on – pure, unadulterated desert with dust whirlwinds springing up in the distance. The horizon starts to tremble and you are suddenly not sure anymore if what you see is actually what you are seeing – heat mirages.
Uninhabitable…? I think so, but, No, as far as we go - intermittently, we pass clusters of beehives, but the inhabitants remain hidden. Where do they ge twater? Why do you want to live here? How do you stay alive? What do you do?
We have become more travel-wise – the boys have filtered water for us and we have several bottles waiting in the refrigerator. We stop for potty breaks and to give Willie and the Desert Nomad brief reprieve from climbing over rocks and diving into powdered dust. 20 km/hour is max when we bump and thump over the halfway mark.
We stop for another potty break in the shade of a courageous little thorn tree that is trying its best to provide shade. We stop with a wheel in the shade to make it happy. An awful smell greets us and Hugo immediately makes the diagnosis: “something is dead” as he wraps my purple scarf around his face. It is a cow in the ditch beside the road. I suddenly figure it
out: this is a screening test to prove that you can enter Kenya – it is here that the chaff is separated from the corn…if you can survive this as a non-Kenyan, you have right of passage. Maybe I’m becoming delirious…
We do see ostriches with their legs floating in the heat-haze. We stop to take pictures of the barrenness as far as the eye can see; of the ostriches; of the beehives; of the dust whirlwinds crossing our path; of the roadside rocks; of the vastness being swallowed by the heat and we have covered another 25 km.
Loaded trucks whizz past us kicking the proverbial dust in our faces and Willie tells an inquiring Hugo – it is because they have 8 wheels at the back. We have 2 so our needle hovers between 20 and 25. The sun has crossed over us, and now torments the passengers on the right side of the car.
We know the end is near – I mean not our end, but the end of the road when we start to see large herds of goats grazing on … (I don’t know what, because I cannot see anything). Humans start to emerge and 10 km later the first green appears. The sun is almost down when we pass a crater on our right and we know Marsabit is not far.
Camp Henry is our final destination. We know that Henry is from Switzerland and that he has a campsite with clean toilets and hot showers. Marsabit is a town you visit, because you have no choice and Herny is there. We pass through the town with the faithful GPS leading us, “Turn right”, but there is no right – just a ditch and then after the ditch what looks like a road.
‘Camp Henry’ with an arrow pointing 1 km in a direction we eagerly follow. We reach Camp Henry when the sun sets as only an African sun can set, and we are happy for Henry’s vision: toilets, shower with a rudimentary, brilliant wannabee solar contraption, water, garbage bins, a sheltered area, friendly staff! What more do you want?
The boys help me peel veggies and we concoct a really good meal – with meat and all - in no time! We are especially happy for the shelter, because quite a strong wind starts to kick up dust. We are in bed shortly after dinner.
We made it! We passed the litmus test. We can travel through Kenya!
See Gallery for Pictures: Moyale to Marsabit
We’ve heard about it; we’ve read about it; you can only do it with armed convoy escort : horrible, scary – the road from Moyale to Marsabit – the ONLY road into Kenya from the Moyale border.
‘No, you do not need an armed guard anymore. The area was declared safe for non-convoy travel,” the immigration official at the border told Willie and I guess they will know. So here we are – all 5 of us if we include ‘Jaws’ –ready as we ever can be. I do not feel fear, nor trepidation – a wariness, a guardedness because of the uncertainty.
I almost want to use the words of the Bible: ‘nothing can prepare you’ for what is happening to us. They actually call this a road? We start out and it is not too bad – it is badly potholed, but tolerable. Willie is extremely careful, because this is where the rubber literally strikes the road – we shake along 25 km/hour as big trucks flew past us. It is quite breathtaking to watch
them perform the truckers rock-and-roll as they grow small and disappear in the unknown.
It is green and lush as we pass through a nature conservation area and we are on the lookout for animals. We pass several small villages and what is strikingly different from anything we’ve seen before is the traditional homes and clothing women and men wore. The clothes are very colorful with intricate beads and decorations around their heads and necks –beautiful and I wish I am in a position to take better pictures. The houses look like beehives, and although flimsy looking can sustain nature elements for as long as 60 years.
The distance we have to cover: 150 km. It takes us 2 ½ hours to cover one third. This is going to be a long day. It is getting drier and desert looking and also warmer. The road has deteriorated to something you cannot explain – you can only experience it. We bump, shake, jiggle, wiggle, wobble, bob, sway, quiver, tremble, shudder, shiver into all directions. Our speedometer reads 20 – 25 if we are lucky! This is going to be a long day…
The world around us has become as harsh and unfriendly as the road we are on – pure, unadulterated desert with dust whirlwinds springing up in the distance. The horizon starts to tremble and you are suddenly not sure anymore if what you see is actually what you are seeing – heat mirages.
Uninhabitable…? I think so, but, No, as far as we go - intermittently, we pass clusters of beehives, but the inhabitants remain hidden. Where do they ge twater? Why do you want to live here? How do you stay alive? What do you do?
We have become more travel-wise – the boys have filtered water for us and we have several bottles waiting in the refrigerator. We stop for potty breaks and to give Willie and the Desert Nomad brief reprieve from climbing over rocks and diving into powdered dust. 20 km/hour is max when we bump and thump over the halfway mark.
We stop for another potty break in the shade of a courageous little thorn tree that is trying its best to provide shade. We stop with a wheel in the shade to make it happy. An awful smell greets us and Hugo immediately makes the diagnosis: “something is dead” as he wraps my purple scarf around his face. It is a cow in the ditch beside the road. I suddenly figure it
out: this is a screening test to prove that you can enter Kenya – it is here that the chaff is separated from the corn…if you can survive this as a non-Kenyan, you have right of passage. Maybe I’m becoming delirious…
We do see ostriches with their legs floating in the heat-haze. We stop to take pictures of the barrenness as far as the eye can see; of the ostriches; of the beehives; of the dust whirlwinds crossing our path; of the roadside rocks; of the vastness being swallowed by the heat and we have covered another 25 km.
Loaded trucks whizz past us kicking the proverbial dust in our faces and Willie tells an inquiring Hugo – it is because they have 8 wheels at the back. We have 2 so our needle hovers between 20 and 25. The sun has crossed over us, and now torments the passengers on the right side of the car.
We know the end is near – I mean not our end, but the end of the road when we start to see large herds of goats grazing on … (I don’t know what, because I cannot see anything). Humans start to emerge and 10 km later the first green appears. The sun is almost down when we pass a crater on our right and we know Marsabit is not far.
Camp Henry is our final destination. We know that Henry is from Switzerland and that he has a campsite with clean toilets and hot showers. Marsabit is a town you visit, because you have no choice and Herny is there. We pass through the town with the faithful GPS leading us, “Turn right”, but there is no right – just a ditch and then after the ditch what looks like a road.
‘Camp Henry’ with an arrow pointing 1 km in a direction we eagerly follow. We reach Camp Henry when the sun sets as only an African sun can set, and we are happy for Henry’s vision: toilets, shower with a rudimentary, brilliant wannabee solar contraption, water, garbage bins, a sheltered area, friendly staff! What more do you want?
The boys help me peel veggies and we concoct a really good meal – with meat and all - in no time! We are especially happy for the shelter, because quite a strong wind starts to kick up dust. We are in bed shortly after dinner.
We made it! We passed the litmus test. We can travel through Kenya!
See Gallery for Pictures: Moyale to Marsabit
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