An ambitious agenda the weekend before last kept us moving around western Kenya, finding amazing experiences every time we stopped to look around. Friday night was a quick excursion to our favorite big city by the lake, Kisumu, for good food, gorgeous views, and a convenient jumping off point for other travels. Saturday morning, after actual espresso (sorrry, Nescafe) Sarah, Wairimu (the Kenyan resident paired with Sarah) and I headed to Hamisi to seek out the family Sarah lived with during Peace Corps. A few wrong turns, dusty dirt roads, and second-takes later and we were walking down a long driveway, Sarah sure that she had found it. Without a phone or even a mailing address, there was no way for us to alert "Mama Carol" that we were coming.
Cautious, Sarah slowly approached an open door, calling out "Hello..." A few moments later, a diminutive, 70 year old woman ambled to the front. After a brief moment of confusion, Sarah quickly produced a chubby-cheeked picture of herself at the house taken eight years earlier and it was all memories and affection from there on.
Led by hand to her living room, Mama Carol sliced a pineapple from her yard to share. Without giving everything away, the conversation went something like this:
Mama Carol [placing her hand on Sarah's knee]: "Oh, I love you."
Sarah: "Oh, mama, I love you too! Thank you. It's so nice to see you."
Mama Carol [turning to Armand]: "Thank you. Thank you for marrying my daughter."
Armand: "Oh, of course. Thank you for taking such good care of her."
Mama Carol: "Wairimu, you know that's my daughter over there."
Wairimu: "Yes, I know. You must be very proud."
Mama Carol: "Oh, yes. Very proud.... [turning to Sarah] I love you."
And it kind of went around like that for however long it takes to slice and eat a pineapple in polite company. After chatting in her sitting room, Mama Carol eagerly toured us around the property, showing off an enormously-horned goat her husband brought home a few days earlier. She seemed just as amused by it's size as she was proud of it.
It wasn't long, though, before Sarah spotted a three day old baby goat in the shade of an open-sided barn and the goat-of-the-day prize was quickly wrested away from all other competitors.
The property was large and there was a field of banana trees below the house as well as half a dozen cattle roaming in another field. Mama Carol's husband is in the military -- a framed commendation from the mid-60s bore former president Kenyatta's signature -- and it appears that they have done relatively well. They have several children in Kenya and a daughter living in the States. It was a wonderful reunion and an amazing way to start the day.
Leaving was not easy, however, with Mama Carol insisting we stay for dinner, then demanding that we at least take a chicken with us if we were not going to eat. Sarah politely reminded her that she doesn't eat meat, and soon Mama Carol was recounting how Sarah wouldn't touch any food when she was there and she couldn't even get her to eat ugali or vegetables. Sarah disagreed, confessing she'd never weighed more than during her Peace Corps days because of all the food she was expected to eat. It was clear we weren't leaving empty handed. Eventually, Mama Carol suggested we at least take some sugar cane for the road, and, quickly seizing on this much more realistic request, we accepted. She asked the teenage boy who helps her around the house to cut down an especially soft one for us and, prize in hand, we left down the same road we came in on. I should note it is hard to go down almost any roadway in Kenya without seeing someone -- adult or child -- gnawing on a stalk of sugar cane. It was my first, but Wairimu was a pro and Sarah a distant second. The taste is almost banana-like and easy enough to appreciate, but the technique is definitely acquired. Later, tired out after chomping through barely a third of our respective stalks, we sliced clean ends and handed them to some local children along the road. They were ecstatic.
That afternoon we arrived in Kakamega town, on our way to the forest of the same name that once ruled this part of Africa. The forest has now been reduced to a small, protected enclosure, but still provides hours of trails to explore. Some miscalculations on our part necessitated a 1 1/2 hour walk in the afternoon sun to the park's gate, but sweaty and tired as we were, it felt good to finally get there. A friendly Hungarian couple working in Eldoret were headed from the forest gate to the same camps; after stopping to ask us for directions they gave us a much appreciated ride for the last 15 minutes of the trek. The forest could not have been more peaceful, but that didn't mean the forest rangers forsook the assault rifles so common among Kenyan authority figures (I guess park rangers in a predator-free forest qualify). That sole disconcerting image aside, everyone was extremely friendly and welcoming and we could not have felt more relaxed. Housing accommodations were bandas on the forest floor or rooms in a chalet-like two story structure in a small clearing. The property manager quickly started a fire in the field to boil water for us to bathe, and, after a putting together a surprisingly decent picnic dinner, we relaxed under more stars than I can ever recall seeing in the night sky.
The next morning proved perfect for a hike. After drip coffee from actual ground beans (two days running!) and some pastries and fruit, we began winding our way along the forest floor toward the river. The towering trees provided excellent shade and were the near-constant object of our attention as they rattled and shook from the monkeys above. Black and white Colobus. Vervet. Red-tailed. Blue. Each species showed their personalities as they clustered high above our heads -- some seemingly content to stare down at us with curious looks while others took the opportunity to show off some truly incredible leaping abilities. They never ceased to amaze and we were awe-struck as we alternately pressed ahead and paused to look above. At eye level, butterflies continued to cross our path, several dozen different species by our unofficial count. It was a gorgeous couple of hours spent among aging trees, active monkeys, and the slightly humid breeze of one of the last vestiges of Africa's great, equatorial forests.
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