There's a Slight Hill Next to Moshi

Turns out, there's a slight hill next to Moshi called Kilimanjaro. So, Heather and I headed to Moshi, Tanzania last Thursday so that I could run in the annual Kilimanjaro Maratho. It is called the Kilimanjaro Marathon, but they offer a half marathon, which I happily entered. So that we would not have to travel at night, Heather and I left a day before Titus and Douglas, the two coaches that I work with here at Tumaini, along with their good friend, Phabius. There have been a rash of car jackings around Nairobi lately, and it is not the greatest place to be traveling after dark. Reputation of "Nairobby" aside, Nairobi was great. I ate a decent knockoff of an American cheesburger at the Nairobi Java House, and even split a vanilla and chocolate chip milkshake. It was an even split - 80% mine and 20% Heather's. Bless her, she knows my sweet tooth is not to be trifled with.

Titus, Douglas and Phabius arrived early the following morning, and we hopped onto the bus for the 9+ hour ride to Moshi. The crossing into Tanzania was to cost anywhere from $25 to $50 for Americans, but was free for Kenyans. Nevertheless, upon our arrival, we were informed that the cost for Americans and Irish was now $100 per person. By contrast, Kenya had only cost $25 to enter, and, stupidly, I assumed the cost for Tanzania would be similar. Seemed just arbitrary enough to be real. I have since verified that this new law has been in effect since 2007 through some sweet U.S. legistation that requires a flat fee but allows multiple border entries. Other countries have the option to request a multiple entry visa, but can choose to purchase a much cheaper single entry pass. Hmmmm. We scraped together a mix of American dollars and shillings and made it across, much lighter in the wallet.

We loaded back onto the bus and made our way to Moshi relatively uneventfully. We did blow out a tire about 30 km from the town of Arusha. It didn't bother us much though, as the driver chose to continue driving as if there was no problem. We switched buses in Arusha, got into Moshi and found a hotel.

The next morning, we rose early to do some warmup jogging (running for me, jogging for my Kenyan friends), ate at another good coffee shop called the Kilimanjaro Coffee Lounge, and walked around the town some. I was a bit nervous for the race, so I couldn't rest or relax completely. Plus, the warmup run of 5 miles, together with a walk around town of 5 more miles was more than I should have done.

Our alarm sounded at 5 a.m on Sunday, then again at 5:15 a.m. All the guys were competing in the half, so we met outside. Heather wanted to take pictures of us, so, like a trooper she loaded up our camera gear and valuables and walked the 2 miles to the start of the race.

My race last November was difficult because it was my first half marathon, it was hot, and there were 30,000 people running in it. This was difficult because the race organizers chose to begin the race with a 6.55 mile climb up the lower slopes toward the base of Mt. Kenya. My Garmin says the race started at about 2900 feet, and rose steadily to 4,128 feet in elevation. At the end of the 6.55 miles, the runners turned 180 degrees on a 2 lane road and ran back down hill. The last mile or so before the turn was a particularly rough climb, then to turn and immediately run back downhill was brutal on the legs, but the change of direction felt so nice. Right before the turn, I was on a 9:33 mile pace, but almost instantly after the turn, I was on a 5:51 pace. I was briefly worried that my feet were going to go right out from under me. Things felt pretty good for the next 5 miles, but I started to tire around mile 12. Unluckily, at about that time, I passed an open air butcher on the roadside. Freshly cut goat is not a good smell at mile 12. But, luckily, shortly thereafter a group of Tanzanian school kids chose that moment to run with muzungu for a quarter mile or so. It gave me a needed push to the end.

The times aren't posted yet, but I think I finished in about 1:40, about the same time as I ran before, but on a much harder course. My Kenyan friend fared much better. Titus finish in about 1:11, Douglas in about 1:20 and Phabius in about 1:21. Titus looked completely fresh after the race, and was heartened by his performance where he had only intended a nice "jog".

The morning we headed back to Nairobi. After an 11 hour return ride, Heather and I decided to stay another night in Nairobi. Our friends hopped on a matatu and completed the trip back to Nyeri. While in Nairobi, we visited both the "Animal Orphanage" and "Elephant Orphanage". These are two good projects displaying Kenya's ever increasing support of their wildlife. If ever in Nairobi, check it out.


Three Kenyans all smiling in one photo? Has to be a first.
Douglas likes to strike a pose.
Somewhere around the fifth muzungu across the line. I would venture to say there were a few hundred Kenyans and Tanzanians as well.
Happily finished with my lady friend.
Clouds cleared for a nice view of Kilimanjaro. It was hard for me to see with all the sweat and tears blocking my view.

Crowned Heron at the Animal Orphanage.
Little guy sliding in for some water.
Terrible two year olds.

The Apartment

This afternoon I boiled eggs. Somewhere among the brown eggs bumping against each other in boiling water, there was a connection to home, where I learned how to boil a perfect egg just before we left. These eggs, 30 of them, we bought fresh for about three dollars. They are as brown and speckled as the farm eggs I had at my grandma’s growing up, but with pale yellow yolks.

It is almost two weeks since our arrival in Kenya, and I’d like to describe my first impressions, starting with our arrival at the orphanage.

We drove in from Nairobi in a cab with a nice driver. In our Kenyan experience thus far, there seems to be an inclination toward the name Francis among drivers. The scenery along the drive was beautiful, with fields of coffee plants and pineapples, and orchards of bananas and mangoes. After three hours, we turned onto a dirt road, slowly bumped our way down to the Riamakurwe Parish and pulled up to stop at a turquoise metal gate. The driver honked the horn, and the gate was opened by one of the Matrons of the home. Zack (the other American volunteer), the manager, and an assortment of other people greeted us warmly and helped us with our bags. Not knowing what to expect, we were happily surprised to see that the grounds of the orphanage are well kept and colorful, with solidly built structures and beautiful landscaping. We’ve come to learn that most of the landscaping is done by the children, with intermittent aid of other workers. After some minutes of greeting, with a variety of handshakes and much enthusiasm, we were led into our apartment, shown around and invited to the library for a welcome lunch.

We splashed water on our faces and headed into the library. A surprising amount of literature, though in disarray, stocked the shelves. The staff had prepared us a large meal, with a kind of beef and zucchini stew, rice, mashed potatoes, and chipati, a kind of oily tortilla. We dug into our first Kenyan meal, and I only had difficulty with one particularly gristly piece of meat. Not wanting to offend, since we were constantly under observation, I went for seconds and later took an opportunity to stash the impossible piece in a napkin and later, the trash. We were given the remainder of the meal to take into our apartment for later.

First and foremost, let me say that the apartment far and away exceeds our expectations. Kris and I had excpected our living quarters to be more third, but things are very nice. There are some nice quirks to it, though, like with any place. Upon entry of the living room, six large tiger-striped pillows lounge on the blue and gold striped and squared couch, love seat, and chair that dominate the living room. There is also a coffee table, dining table, and bookshelf, which I have quickly covered in art materials for the kids. The apartment has high ceilings, tall turquoise doors, four bedrooms and a kitchen, all with florescent lighting. I found one white light bulb in the pantry, and that has been moved to our bedroom.

We slept on the bed one night (wood frame with wooden slats) before I went to the other bedrooms and gathered the blankets to pile under our mattress. Mattresses here are made of foam that is covered in a sort of flowered pink panty hose material. Over time, they tend to compress in the middle, rolling the occupants into a sort of Kenyan sleeping taco.

It took us awhile to realize that we could enjoy more than tepid water from our shower. All of the outlets here have individual switches, and the shower requires two to be switched on, the light and the heater, which is located in the showerhead itself. Zack warned us not to touch the electric showerhead while the water is on – he’s been shocked once before. After about a week of cool showers, Kris was all soaped up in mid-shower when the water shut off, quickly going from full blast to a slow trickle. Our practice was to turn the water onto full blast immediately (blast here being defined as random spray from 16 of the unclogged shower holes). When the water shut off on him, he realized the water was becoming hotter. What a happy discovery he had made! Too bad he had to finish rinsing with a bottle full of cold water. What we still can’t figure out is how to make the shower stop dripping. We regularly fill and replace big bottles under the showerhead, saving them for the occasions when the water isn’t on.

The toilet closet doesn’t bear much description other than the lack of lid on the tank, which, when flushed, proceeds to spray and utter strange (and loud) noises.

Our kitchen is filled with the most pleasant natural light, as the windows are the only ones lined up with the outdoors. Our living room windows line up with the stairwell leading up to the girls’ dormitory, as a result, all day we hear amplified talking, laughing, stomping and singing. Our bedroom in the back of the building has windows that open over the wash area where kids scrub their clothes several times a day. We also hear the roosters crowing in the morning, and the neighboring dogs barking and yelping throughout the night. The kids tell me they’re just hungry.

Back to the kitchen … We have a nice big pantry, which already contained the leavings of prior mission trips. Sauces from 2006, old spices, half a bottle of soy sauce, and assorted leftovers litter the shelves. We hesitate to throw anything away, worried of looking wasteful in a place where people lack. A little boy presented us with another good reason to sneak it into the burn pile when we found him munching on three-year-old Skittles we’d thrown away. Zack is still not such where his two-week-old and moldy Clementine orange went.

Anyway, the kitchen is a good size, with a small fridge, table, and tiny stove. Thankfully, we now have a new stove, switched out from another apartment. It only has one burner that doesn’t work, where as the first one only has one burner that worked. Much improved. We have plenty of silver ware, stamped out of a single piece of thin metal (they just fold when you try to mash potatoes), one good knife that someone left (thank you) and several pots with rounded lumpy bottoms that we balance on the burners with coffee cups. So far we’ve eaten with the children at least two-thirds of the meals, but githerie lethargy has driven us to make pasta, boiled eggs, experimental leftover dishes, and flour tortillas.

hjk

Got a few pics for you, as well.
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Our daily fresh milk comes from here.
Some of the kids - Hannah, Mary Ann and Rhoda.
Two little guys walking.
Goat and soccer.