A matter of time

COUNTRY: Kenya
PROGRAM: GapBreak
PROJECT: Community & Conservation
WRITTEN BY: Nick McArdle

I'd like to firstly start off with a well deserved apology for the lateness of this second blog entry. Most excuses would consist of, 'I was terribly busy working around the clock on my project' or 'Internet was a major deterrent and therefore I couldn't pass it on' but with sheer honesty it was neither of these. Since being in Africa, us gappies have discovered the natural body clock of the locals and even perhaps the whole continent. The wristwatch that you would usually have by your side disappears and the concept of time fizzles out. We become acronymic to the phrase TIA ('this is Africa') which makes the current task insignificant against the holistic picture. And for this reason I apologise on my African body clock, but at the same time I am grateful that this is a small indication that our lives have adapted to the culture at hand.

The last week within Camp Tsavo was like the last week within high school. We sadly knew the end was near, but we knew better things were coming.

Our week started with a warm welcome from the mentor/leader of the Imani Women's Group. After our briefing, we were designated to either work on the leader's house (in which the roof and rendering was incomplete and the rains were coming) or work on the local school doing rendering and painting. The group, that support local women whom have been abandoned by their husbands, were immensely grateful for our hard work and asked us to return for round two.

Day 2 consisted of similar jobs, but the final products were closing in. At the school, the bright green paint was slapped inside, outside and occasionally across someone's face or back. The words 'hakuna matata' meaning 'no worries' was painted on the outside of the school by a few of the girls.

This phrase is used frequently, despite the current struggles of the community.

The house was thankfully completed with the roof securely nailed on before the rain could ruin the inside. Overall, a successful project, helping a school of children and teachers as well as a large family that selflessly risk everything for the heart stricken women that have nothing but hardship.

The next day was an exciting treat for the gappers of Antipodeans and Camps International. Mount Kasigau was our next goal and we were aiming to climb it within 6 hours to beat the gap record.

At the entrance, we payed 700 shillings, were given our packed lunches (an egg, a ham sandwich, a cheese sandwich and 'tropical heat' salty chips) and we were on our way. At the bottom of the mountain we met our guide who was wearing long formal pants and a long sleeve shirt. We thought he was ludicrous due to the scorching heat on ground level.

The mountain had a gradual inclination, to which we thought was going to be an easy trek. Once we hit the trees, we had no idea what was coming. The slope built up, and those with non-hiking boots felt the grip slip. We soon realised the reasoning behind our guides attire. The chilly weather began to kick in and jumpers were a necessity. The slope became slippery and more and more difficult to climb.

After 3ish hours, we were at the peak, above the clouds and feeling highly accomplished. After taking in the view, lunches were devoured and we were on our descent. This is where the fun began. Due to the steep paths and the wet ground, almost everybody fell embarrassingly. Just off the top of my head, Zoia and Ellie fell close to 6 thousand times each and returned with mud smothered clothes from head to toe. The boys generally embraced the thrilling adrenaline by running down the slopes and enjoying the short slides. Hamish once again, didn't fail to cause great laughter due to a nasty stack down one of the largest slides.

Thankfully it was caught on camera.

As we reached the bottom we were told we beat the gappers record. We completed it in under 6 hours.

After this journey we enjoyed a well deserved weekend off, walking through Voi Town and relaxing at a small resort called Galaxy with all you can eat, a good way to replace all those calories lost from the mountain climb.

Next on the program was the long awaited Bush Adventure. The two Peter's of Camp Kenya took the group out into the sanctuary to teach us some skills in observing, investigating, respecting and appreciating the wildlife. We were shown the different types of dung and the way in which elephants go about eating and drinking from the watering holes. Sadly, we were shown an elephant grave, where the bones and remains looked as though the elephant had died not long ago yet we were informed it had been over a year since its passing. Brad, who had already travelled a bit of Africa before our placement, interestingly told us that elephants regularly come to the graveyard to mourn the death.

The elephant was killed by poachers to attain the tusks for illegal selling.

Towards the end of the day, three groups were formed for an afternoon of activities in the bush. Team names were creatively placed and we were firstly sent off to make a small hut to house four people. Following the criteria accordingly would ensure more points when examined at the end. Secondly we were told to create a fire with the a wooden fire apparatus and grass and dog poo. The quickest team got the highest points. Lastly we had a firing range with bows and arrows and a bunch teenagers. Probably not the best combination in the world, but I'll ensure all mothers that no one was injured in this activity. The aim was to hit the centre target and gain the most amount of points for your team.

The day concluded and Peter announced the winning team named 'Giney' which consisted of myself, Jock, Rosie 'chubs' Williams, Charlie, Matt, Bradley and the team captain Vanessa.

The next day was back into a hard days work, doing sanctuary maintenance. Machetes were dispensed (again, probably not the smartest idea amongst rebelling teenage boys but I wasn't complaining) and trees were assigned for slashing to clear the roads for the vehicles. Unfortunately, we were rained out at lunch time and had to relax for the rest of the day, which was a massive pain (again, I wasn't complaining).

Our gear was packed that evening and farewells were given to the lovely staff as we had our last supper and agreed that Camp Tsavo was a brilliant start to our placement.

Early in the morning we embarked on a long journey through the local safari to which we saw more than we thought we would. Elephants weren't the greatest attraction due to the sanctuary we stayed in, but a picturesque landscape shot of 20 elephants walking in a straight line amidst the sunset, led by the father elephant and trailing by the baby was by far my highlight. I am hopeful this image will surface very soon on the website. Another favourite was definitely a cheetah lying approximately 150 meters from the truck, under the shade. The general favourite by far was the maneless lion (famous for Tsavo) that sat at most, 10 meters from the safari bus looking out onto the horizon for buffaloes and other animals, examining which is the weakest to attack for food.

Then came a very uncomfortable, dirty, sweaty and tired bus ride to our next camp, Camp Muhaka. We arrived late at night and deserved a good nights sleep, as we were on the same bus for over 15 hours.

Just briefly, Camp Muhaka is approximately 50km south of Mombasa, just around the corner from a very very small village of Ukunda. On the contrary to Tsavo which was surrounded by dirt and plains, Muhaka is surrounded heavily by high tropical trees and grassy, bushy areas. Coconuts are widely available if you have the guts to climb and bush babies and monkeys regularly run around the camp, scoping for food and snacks.

In the morning we were greeted warmly with 'karibu' (welcome) from Eustace and Gladys, the camp leaders. We were rewarded a day off to unpack and fight amongst ourselves for the bottom bunk. Typically, I lost 'scissor paper rocks' to get the top bunk once again.

We had one day of work and then the weekend for rest. This day involved working in various jobs at the local schools kitchen. Some were painting, some were sawing, framing, digging and manually cutting the fields thick grass. We found some fun by filming skits around the grounds which eased the hot African sun.

The weekend was finally here and we were rewarded with a relaxing day at a lovely resort named 'Blue Marlin' that I am sure you would have heard about. The service was slow but TIA. That night we were shown the foreigners club of 'forty theives' which was widely spoken about - a beach front club with loud music.

What happens in 40s stays in 40s I think is fair.

On Sunday we visited the Nakumarket (Supermarket) and bought supplies for the week.

A small incident happened within this supermarket visit that truly opened my eyes to the gap between poor locals and travelling westerners. Hamish, about to enter the market was approached by a young male who emotionally begged him to buy a bag of rice so he could feed his family. We had been told to try and ignore these beggars but the warm hearted Hame couldn't deny the man and would consciously feel terrible if he didn't buy the rice.

On return to the bus, Hamish passed over the rice and we all waited in the bus for the remaining people shopping. Across the road Mikey spotted the young male holding the rice behind his back, with another man gripping his neck collar and throwing several punches with his other hand, in plea for the rice. The fight was dreadful to our eyes due to the insignificance of a bag of rice to us, but then importance of it to them, that they need to punch on to desperately get something in their bellies for the night.


The next week was here and two groups were set, one for Camp Kaya down the road and one for Camp Muhaka. Both were focusing on the grey watering hole which assists the community with capturing as much water as possible. The blue print plans were confusingly handed around, and soon enough we were getting hot sweaty and dirty, a typical day in Kenya. Most of the week was perfecting the large holes to what we were told. There was more work than we initially thought, and by the end of the week many people became attached to the hole, thriving to get each aspect correct to the plans.

As the pit sides were angled in for ease of water flow, TomTom, Jock, Mikey and myself found running around the inside walls was a great way to break the day up from monotonous digging and wheelbarrowing.

The next day, Thursday, was an interesting day this particular week. We walked for over an hour to a local family's home so we could experience 'a day in the life of an African'. It started by a tour of their property, where most people were intrigued by the abnormally large turkey with an abnormally flaccid nose. People were given goats to walk out into the paddock for a feed. Much to our delight, we watched Mikey struggle with his overtly horny goat. A small group of people sat down, rolled and cooked 'japatis' whilst the remaining people removed kernels from corn for maize. Lunch was served and we were on our trek back to camp. A fulfilling day and an insight into the African life.

Friday was the well awaited 'World Peace Day' and our itinerary was scribbled on the camp blackboard. On the blackboard the quote 'blow bubbles not bombs' was scratched on by the staff and was the theme for the day. The boys played a round robin competition of soccer (or 'football' to please the English companions) and unfortunately lost 7-4. Across the field the girls played a game of netball and proudly won 11-10 where several accounts tell me Vanessa played a 'blinder'.

After the activities, all the kids and gappers linked hands in a circle and stood for a minute silence. The silence symbolised the peace that should be ever present in not only Kenya but across the world. It was also to commemorate those affected by crime, violence and wide unrest.

The weekend was finally here and we drove to our new resort called 'African Oasis'. Tom pointed out something on the ride back from the resort that again painted a vivid picture of Africa's uneducated attitude. The snapshot I took, involved a large green dumpster that had "keep your environment clean" painted across the side. As you zoom out the foreground is sprawled with countless rubbish and as you zoom out even more the background has mounds of rubbish. The blatant irony was so overwhelming when we saw a lady tossing a large plastic bag of rubbish on top of the damage done.

After yet another restful weekend we delved into a strenuous and lengthy weekend on our projects.

Those that worked at Muhaka's pit the week before did so. Those that worked at Kaya continued their cement filled days.

At the start of the next day, at the watering hole, I walked my first wheelbarrow up the mound of dirt we had created and was greeted with four children screaming 'jambo!' at the neighbouring fences. I stopped to talk and asked why they weren't at school.

The eldest boy, Hasanni said, "The teachers have been on strike for two weeks. I have school tomorrow but I don't have pencils or paper. I won't go to school tomorrow." I couldn't tell whether this was Hasanni's way of pleading for pens and paper but I believed him. I told the kids to wait and I ran back to the camp around the corner, got a exercise book and four pencils. Once they received these through the fence they all screamed 'Asante sana' which means 'thank you very much' and ran to their mother jumping with joy. It made me think, how far a small thing like this, can do for someone in need.

The grey watering hole was progressively getting more difficult to muster. Dirt was building up and felt never ending but the Antips pulled through and only have a couple more arrangements to make before it needs to be cemented. We lost Mel for a few days to the hospital, which weakened the team but at the same time we gained three more English chaps to assist with the current project.

After a hard working week, we were rewarded with Friday afternoon off to play volleyball against the camp Kenya staff. It was definitely more difficult than expected, as the team of tall Africans dominated almost every set.

And all of a sudden three weeks have passed, under Africa's time. A time that blurs together, a time that has no calendrical measurement, no clear judgement, but merely mashed together with monotony.

Sadly, as our time passes by here, their time continues to struggle. Whether it be 3 months or 3 years, the metaphoric Kenyan pit will always be too deep to gracefully climb out of.

But we have hope, and that's why we're here ultimately.

Nick 'Stick' McArdle