Almost the whole of my year, 2003, has been taken up with planning, preparing, having & enjoying, & recovering from, my trip to Kenya. One of the most important things I did in the preparation stage was to visit the doctor for vaccinations. Eight weeks before my departure, I had 3 jabs – 1 for Yellow Fever, 1 for Typhoid & the first of 3 jabs for Hepatitis A & B. One month later, I had my second vaccination for Hep. A & B. This was followed by a two dose oral vaccine for Cholera, taken 1 week apart. The third shot for Hep. A & B was in October. I started taking anti-Malaria tablets before I left NZ, & continued taking them for a month after I returned home. I was prescribed pills for diarrhoea, rehydration powders to mix in a glass of water for when I was dehydrated, & insect repellent cream, should I be troubled by mosquitoes etc.. Luckily, my Polio & Tetanus vaccinations were up to date. I was told that should any animal bite me, I must immediately seek medical attention. Apparently nobody survives Rabies without getting appropriate treatment. The doctor also recommended that I take a mosquito net, which I did, but as it turned out, I had no need of it. 

The primary reason for me going there was to visit the child that I have been sponsoring for the past six & a half years. Her name is Puris. She is 16½ yrs old & she lives with her mother in a town called Isiolo, which is about 300 kms north of the capital city, Nairobi. Kenya is about 2½ times the size of NZ & has a population of 30 million people. Nairobi has a population of 2½ million. More than 1 million babies are born in the country every year, which means a large percentage of the people are less than 25 yrs old.

Believe me, it was the best 2wks of my life! On Monday the 2^nd June, I flew from CHCH to Sydney with Air NZ, then changed to Emirate Airlines, who took me to Singapore, Dubai & finally to Nairobi. It was 30hrs from go to woe, but I survived OK. Emirates are a truly first class airline, in my opinion. I arrived at Singapore airport at around 1am in the morning, & spent about 90 mins in the transit lounge. There was virtually no activity except for a squad of army personnel, 1 officer & 4 men, doing a night-time exercise & brandishing loaded AK47s. I didn’t know whether to feel safe or threatened. The airport in Dubai was a palace; the airport at Nairobi was a total contrast. On leaving the airport building, I was immediately targeted as a person in need of a taxi. I was told by my travel agent to negotiate a rate before getting into the cab. I did my best, but they are very persuasive. When we got going I was reassured that at least I had chosen a driver who owned the road! That was the way he drove anyway. He tooted long & loud at any person or any vehicle that got into his pathway. I had a quiet smile to myself. In my daze & confusion, I had forgotten to exchange a travellers cheque, at the airport, for some local currency; NZ$1 equals about 40 Kenyan Shillings. I remembered as I was been driven in the taxi into the city. The driver offered to stop outside a reputable bank while I popped in & did business. Firstly, I was dubious about leaving my entire collection of luggage in the taxi with a black man; I had heard several bad stories, but I realised there was little choice in this case. The traffic outside the bank was heavy, so the taxi driver double-parked – almost on an intersection. The door of the bank was locked shut, but attended by a security guard sporting a well-worn wooden batten. He opened the door for me & I went into a dingy lobby full of young black faces. Were they waiting for me to get my cash then roll me? To one side were 3 fully self-contained booths. One booth door opened & a customer emerged. The guard ushered me in. Ah ha, the guard is in league with the young hoods, I thought! In the booth, behind a glass security screen, an aging Moslem lady dressed all in black, attended me. Her forearms were bare & her hands & forearms were covered in black tattoos. She had no conversation or customer communication skills, but at least she understood one slightly nervous English speaking, newly arrived visitor. After a lengthy procedure & wait, I got a good rate of exchange & departed with my cash. No problem in the lobby; the young "hoods" had gone. Probably waiting outside for me I thought! The guard opened the door for me; busy, busy pavement, even busier road, glory be, my taxi was still there. My faith in the African people has been restored. That was the only "spooky" moment in my whole trip & I decided that as I survived that, then why worry about anything. During the taxi journey from the airport, I mentioned to my driver that I would be travelling to Isiolo. "That’s a bandit area" was his immediate response! " I wouldn’t take my car up there" he said, "someone is liable to take a pot-shot at you, steal your car, your wallet, jewellery, cell phone & everything else of value". Not what I had wanted to hear, but I knew the Christian Children’s Fund staff would make sure that my safety was not put at risk. I stayed at the Heron Court hotel in Nairobi for 2 nights. It had a swimming pool, sauna, Internet facilities & a very nice restaurant with a small bar. It was their wintertime & the weather was just nice & comfortable, about 20deg C. On my first full day there, Florence, one of the senior employees from the Christian Children’s Fund took me out to a pre-school project. Within a few minutes, I had about 12 beautiful, happy, smiling children hanging on to each hand & arm. They couldn’t understand what I said, & I couldn’t understand what they said, but we enjoyed each other’s company immensely. We visited areas that a white person on their own would not dare to venture, before going to a very nice restaurant for lunch. I popped into the street for a minute, to patronize a passing street vendor, & bought a beautiful bunch of 24 red roses for my hostess, cost NZ$7.50. When I got back to my hotel & rested for a while, I made an enquiry at the reception desk about markets. Yes, they had a permanent market close to the centre of the city, & Kamau, my helpful "bellboy" offered to organise a taxi, complete with an escort to take me to the market & ensure my safety. The offerings at the downtown market were abundant; the pressure, from stallholders, to buy was extreme. During the return taxi trip to my hotel, we passed a small group of Masai Warriors, resplendent in their bright, traditional costumes. A Masai Warrior will face a lion, I was told. Fearless stuff!

Next day I was collected from my hotel by Patrick, a CCF worker from the Isiolo Project. He recognised me instantly from the photos that I had been sending to Puris. (All mail etc. is screened before it is passed to the child). He used his own car to drive me north to Isiolo. The roads are in fairly bad condition, but Patrick knew every pothole. During this journey, I encountered the only rain in my holiday. A torrential, tropical downpour, which thankfully, only lasted a few minutes. I was hoping to get a good view of Mount Kenya as we drove along, but the cloud was quite low in that direction, so it was not to be. The same conditions prevailed on the return trip. The mountain is 17,000+ ft high (a mile taller than Mount Cook here in NZ) & of course is snow-capped; would have been a great sight! We stopped for lunch at a lovely country club, & I lapped up the tranquillity & agreeable climate. We crossed the equator about an hour or so before getting to Isiolo. On arrival, I checked into the local hotel, $30/night B&B. There was a shower in my room, but no hot water. After mentioning that fact to the management, a big plastic container of boiled water & a large plastic basin, were brought to my room by one of the staff each evening, for me to have a good wash in. The weather here was somewhat warmer – in the high 20s.

At around 4pm I was collected again & driven to my child’s home. A huge emotional experience! They live about 12km outside the township. When the family received the first Christmas gift, in 1998, of $100, they bought an acre of land & rebuilt the existing dwelling on a different site. They now have the main building which has a living area & a bedroom off either side. Another bedroom has been attached outside. Then there is a hut that is used as a pantry; another hut has a room for cooking in, with a room next door that I think was rented to a tenant. Another hut for storing gardening tools, a calf stall for when the cow gives birth, & finally there is a washroom & toilet facilities (a long drop, I guess) well away from the other buildings. The buildings have just dirt floors, poor carpentry & battered corrugated iron roofs. The section is finished off with a couple of sun umbrellas made from timber & what looks like flax leaves. Everything is of a lesser standard than the most modest Kiwi Bach. However, a slice of paradise compared with a city dweller. They now have a cow, a goat, chickens, rabbits, beehives, a dog & a cat. They rent more land for growing vegetables & bananas. They are also one of fifteen families who have a share in an irrigation system. When we walked out into surrounding countryside I was wearing shorts, ankle socks & sandals. I asked Patrick if there would be any chance of encountering a snake. His comment was, "They normally won’t attack you unless you stand on them". "Gee thanks"! I said.

The next day, about 15 of us piled into a beaten up Landrover, & we went to Puris’s school. I was meet by the children from her class singing a welcoming song. Then I got a guided tour of the 8 classroomed school & met the headmaster & some of the staff. Facilities were almost non-existent. Then the whole school gathered outside & there was singing & dancing before I made a public speech about myself & where I came from. Afterwards I handed out balloons, before being bowled over backwards by the surging crowd of eager children. Luckily no harm was done. Just worried about snakes in the long grass though. The following morning I was taken out into the countryside to view a CCF medical centre. I saw some cows been driven down to the river for watering; a couple of ladies doing their laundry in the same river; saw where the concrete bridge had got washed away during the rainy season; & saw my only animal in the wild – an ostrich.

Then back to my hotel for a belated brunch – bacon, eggs & toast etc.. One of the receptionists behind the counter had a very nice card for me. She was really keen to come to NZ & marry me. Since I have been home though, I have received mail from her & she tells me she got pregnant at the end of July & is to be married to an army serviceman called Dennis. In the afternoon it was back to Puris’s home, where I took 30mins videotaping. Sunday morning I was transported to church in town where I was asked to get up in front of 300 people & give a short talk about myself. All went well! Then it was back to Puris’s place for a banquet meal. I finished up giving a farewell speech to the gathered crowd of about 20 family members & friends. I had taken some long sleeved shirts to wear, should I be bothered by mosquito bites. As I turned out there was no problem in that area, so I gave the shirts to 3 of the young men, who seemed to appreciate the gesture.

A rest, a wash & a meal around 8pm, & then, as it was my final evening there, I decided to go & chat with Carol, the receptionist, until the finish of her shift at 11pm. The following day was a pleasant car journey back to Nairobi. My driver gave me a pendant on a cord. We embraced strongly. These Africans are the most amazing people. Most have precious little, but are so happy & content with what they have. They never swear or get upset. They live in what can only be described as humble conditions, yet they keep themselves well-groomed, dress smartly & always walk perfectly erect. Just about everybody hustles though, & nobody refuses money, but you don’t mind because they appreciate what you give them & they give first class service. You know whatever you have to offer is providing them with far more than you would reasonably expect to give. Before I left New Zealand I had already been advised that there would be no problem with verbal communication. The locals all speak Kenyan Swahili amongst themselves, but the education system is in English, so everybody is wonderfully bilingual. I have always had great admiration for somebody who can understand what I can only interpret as gobbledegook. 

My 6 days back in Nairobi were equally as good. On Tuesday I was collected by the CCF Range Rover & taken to the Kenya Institute of Special Education. I had expressed an interest in helping other stutterers, & Florence; my CCF hostess thought this would be a good starting place. The security gate, at the entrance to the long driveway to the buildings, was patrolled by gun wielding army personnel! The reality of terrorism was becoming uncomfortably close & frighteningly real. We were ushered into the director’s office. Morning tea soon followed. The burly black man seemed very keen with what I had to offer, & he agreed to arrange for primary school stutterers & their parents to gather at the institution on Friday morning. I had little in the way of information about therapy for children, but something was better than nothing, I decided. By now my fluency was pretty solid & I was on top of the world. In the afternoon I took a short taxi ride to the University of Nairobi & paid a social visit to the Chemistry Dept.. I introduced myself at the reception desk, & after flashing the letter of introduction from my Head of Department (which I had written, & he had signed) I was taken around the building for 3 hrs by the chief technologist. Got some good photos to show my work colleagues. My obliging new friend & another staff member, very kindly walked with me back to my hotel. Safe again, & another interesting, satisfying, fairly fluent day. 

Wednesday I went back to the central market. During my previous visit, a street girl & her 3yr old son had asked me for money. Sad to say, I had not obliged, & I had a very guilty conscience. I got hassled again by the vendors, but I was now prepared, & stutter free – well almost. I did buy a few trinkets to keep 1 or 2 of them happy. Best of all, my "street kid" was there again & I got her to sit down & we talked for a few minutes. I realised how lucky I was, & how some people just don’t have a chance, no matter what. I gave her the equivalent of NZ$5 & said my farewell, before "bravely" walking the 20 mins. back to my hotel. A middle aged, Middle Eastern male was drinking at the hotel bar one evening. He was a little the worse for wear from alcoholic beverage, & fairly vocal. Three younger locals came into the bar & ordered drinks. Then one of them lit a ciggie. The Arab chap took exception to this & asked the smoker to cease. The black man’s retort was a gem; "you do not share the same bed as me, so how can you tell me what to do"? Thankfully, the complainant saw the humorous side of this comment, & spent several minutes laughing & talking about it. By the way, cigarettes are about NZ$2 a packet in Kenya. The government must want the population to smoke themselves to death at an early age. Wage & salary workers, over there, retire at 55 yrs old. There is a state pension scheme, which pays out a lump sum on retirement, but it is not much, & is proportional to what you have contributed during your working life. 

Thursday I took a taxi to the CCF offices to help a young, male CCF employee with a stutter. He wasn’t too disfluent, but it was good practise for me, & we spent about 3 hrs together. I don’t think I made a very deep impression on him, but you can’t work miracles in a short space of time. Friday morning came; here was my big challenge. We were over an hour late starting; they call it "African Time". A group of about 50 people had gathered, children & adults. I started by introducing myself & telling everybody a bit about NZ. Then about me, my stutter, & the therapy that I had had over the years. Then we had a break for morning tea. Back in the room I spoke about help for young stutterers & promised to send them more information as I gathered it. Wow! Did I really talk for 2 hrs, & talk well. I guess when you have a passion for something, that’s how it goes. My turn to buy lunch this time. I arrived back at the hotel in plenty of time to have a good rest. I had arranged with Philip, may escort to the city market, to buy him a couple of beers as a reward for his services. We arranged to meet in the hotel lobby at 6pm. More "African Time"! We left in a taxi at 7pm, to visit a bar a few kms away. The actual bar had recently been removed from my hotel during the present ongoing refurbishment. An American chap, who was married to a younger local lass, owned the establishment we visited. A fairly common & accepted practice in this neck of the woods. They were a few white skinned males there playing pool. A handful of "ladies of the night" were also there, also playing pool & touting for drinks. Philip’s cousin, Liz, was there. Apparently she is married to a millionaire. I bought her a beer as well. Not long after, her friend joined us at the bar. Her name was Agnes; she came from Uganda, but had come to Nairobi to find work. She had a head full of longish tight curls; she sat with us but said virtually nothing, even after my attempts to get her to join in the conversation. My fluency was solid, & I was making the most of it. I ordered a fish meal for myself, & the others shared the chips etc. Eventually, the $50 that I took ran out. Well, it does when you are the only one buying for 4 people. I offered everybody 1 more beer, but they would have to come back to my hotel so that I could put it on my account. Philip & Agnes accepted the invite. Eventually Philip supped up & left. So here was Bruce left alone with a lovely 37-year-old African female. We talked for a while until tiredness got the better of me. I politely asked if I could get her a taxi, to which her reply was " I’m not going to leave you until you go back to NZ"! Didn’t get much sleep that night. Florence, from the CCF, had arranged a guided tour of the National Museum for me, for the following day. So Agnes & I had breakfast & took a taxi from outside the hotel & kept the 10am appointment with James our guide. A good display of natural & cultural history was waiting for us. Most stunning of all, I found, was an extensive collection of drawings & paintings by Joy Adamson of "Born Free" fame. There were of the indigenous people, as well as the local flora & fauna. We had no time left to visit the snake house, as my faithful CCF driver, Job, had arrived right on time, to take us to the KISE again. This time it was to help Christine, a 39yr old student at the institution, with her stutter. She looked much younger than her years, but a lifetime of disfluency had left her withdrawn & quiet. Whether the 3 hrs I spent with her will be of any benefit, short or long term, probably only she will know. It was a good introduction to stuttering & therapy for Agnes, who sat in, & even participated in the afternoon. She was extremely patient & supportive of both my student & myself. The institute had provided us with a delicious meal of boiled rice; roast chicken pieces & a steamed vegetable medley, followed by bananas & a pot of tea. Did you know that there is a variety of banana that can be eaten when the skin is green? You learn something new every day, especially here in Africa. Agnes & I went back to the hotel for an early night. I wasn’t really tired, but I knew I was running on adrenalin. For the next day, Sunday, & my last day in Kenya, I had accepted an offer from one of my previous taxi drivers, to have the use of his cab for the whole day, 9am to 5pm, for the reasonable charge of NZ$75. Agnes & I went & collected her 5yr old son, Kevin, & her 18yr old cousin, Annette from their respective residences. It was a little upsetting to see the poor conditions in which, probably, what a huge percentage of the world’s population live in. But they just accept it as the norm & make you feel welcome. Agnes’s home was 1 room in a converted garage. It was about 3 metres square. Inside was a double bed for her & the 2 children, 2 padlocked steel trunks, presumably 1 for food & 1 for personal effects, a kerosene lantern, 2 kerosene burners for cooking (sorry, no electricity here), & a few clothes hung on coat hangers around the walls. Bits of cardboard cartons were stuffed into the gaps between the brickwork & the rafters to keep out the bad weather. The building was at least in the grounds of a once stately house, & together with a large, solid steel gate to the land, made a reasonably safe environment for the children & parents. On the subject of property security in Kenya, every window & doorway had iron bars, every gateway to premises, had a security gate that was generally manned. The bank next-door to my hotel had a very high stonewall & an electrified fence on top of that. Even the supermarket has pickaxe handle wielding guards on the exits. I reckon about 10% of those people who work for wages, are employed as security personnel. 

But on with the day. Our first port of call was the animal orphanage. I had hoped to see some baby elephants, but no such luck. What we did see was quite good, & as we were just about the only visitors at that time, I managed to shoot a few minutes of videotape, mainly of Agnes & co. Back in the car park area, we had our photo taken with a Masai warrior; of course we had to give him some money for the privilege. Then on to "Bomas", a cultural centre. We were too early for the traditional dancing, but we browsed the market stalls & strolled down the lane looking at the traditional tribal villages; & taking a few more photos. I bought a hematite necklace & earrings for Agnes, & a bracelet for Annette, all for $5. Our taxi driver had a snooze in his car. He worked 23hr days, he said, to support his wife & 4 kids. He would have been well pleased with my contribution for that day. He would have used little petrol (it costs $1.50/lt over there) & had the certainty of a reasonable income. Then it was on to "Carnivores", a world famous eating establishment. They had a supervised children’s playground, bouncy castle & all. Those who "had" were there. Lots of Asian Indians. The car park accommodated a plentiful supply of "Town Tanks" & Mercedes Benz’s. We ordered the 1kg meat roast & baked potatoes. There was zebra, crocodile, emu, beef, chicken & sausage. Agnes made a great job of piling a plate with salad from the salad bar. We all shared in this delectable platter. Wee Kevin had a ball, & even ate a good meal of bangers & chips. The day was drawing on, so we drove back into the city, hoping to go to the top of Nairobi’s tallest building. There was nobody available at the building to give us a receipt, so that venture came to nothing, but I did get my photo taken standing in front of the statute of Kenya’s first president, Jomo Kenyatta. His photo is hung in a prominent place in just about every building that I went in to. As we drove up the road we passed the entranceway to the Presidential Palace. It was unusually tidy, patrolled by armed guards, & there was definitely no stopping outside to admire the view or take photographs. We moved on, to the site of the American Embassy that was bombed in 1998. The area has been turned into a Memorial Park for the hundreds of innocent victims that lost their lives or suffered injuries in the blast. Once again, there were security guards at the gate, & an entrance fee to be paid. A small wire cage housed small pieces of debris from the devastation. A large stone plaque was engraved with all the names of the people who died. Apparently, the worst carnage came from the flying glass. Glad I was not there! The afternoon was drawing on & we made my final stop at a Barclay’s Bank ATM; then delivered Annette & Kevin safely home. Agnes was adamant she wanted to be with me to the last possible moment. We got back to the hotel & rested, talked & packed my suitcase. We had a light supper down in the restaurant. I had the tomato soup & a bread roll. When I was finished I asked the waitress to give my compliments to the chef – it was the best tomato soup that I have ever had. My taxi for the trip to the airport came at 9.50pm; 10minutes early. I must admit, I was ready to leave. I had just had the most amazing time of my entire life. The air flights, the places, the people, their kindness, their beauty, the car journeys, the countryside & the culture, had all been somehow surreal. The traffic in Nairobi was incredible. The traffic lights had fallen into disrepair & disuse. The big traffic islands resembled some sort of dodgem track. The Toyota Hi-Ace mini-buses held 20 people. The last 2 on board stood in the open sliding doorway. Other vehicles travelled with an abnormally high centre of gravity, due to the roof been piled high with personal belongings, baggage & furniture. When the rains come, they wash away the shoulder of the road, so that it is lower than the poor quality asphalt, leaving the vehicles to break off the edge of the sealing when they stray too far to the left. Which means the roads get a little narrower every year. The huge billboards, the makeshift stalls, the would-be salesmen who try to sell you something when you are stopped at an intersection, the places of worship, the goats & other animals which graze on the median strip, & most of all, that thronging mass of wonderful black faces, all made my trip little more that a fleeting moment of surreal magic.

My 4 flights home were in the opposite direction of my outward journey. Very luckily, the planes were flying with low passenger numbers, so on each flight I was able to find an empty 3-seater, put the arm rests up, lie down & get a good rest. This also helped to make the time pass quite quickly. I landed back in Christchurch very tired, very pleased to be home safely, & full of emotion. The story doesn’t really end there though. Agnes & I are corresponding by email regularly. I have sent her money to get a passport, before we can apply to get her a NZ visitor’s visa. We are told she will need a visa to transit through Australia as well, even though she will only be in the Sydney airport transit lounge for less than 2 hours. Could be the start of a whole new chapter in my life - & hers as well! Apart from the 19 pieces of jewellery that I had bought for family & friends, I got a small carved lion, gazelle & a water buffalo, a carved wooden ceremonial mask, a beautiful small enamelled bowl, 2 batiks (pictures made from cut-out banana leaves), 2 wee hand held drums, a carved wooden Masai warrior & his wife & 4 lovely hand-drawn greeting cards, depicting traditional African scenes. I took 5 rolls of photos, but could have taken 50. Everything was so fresh & exciting. One of the most appreciated things that I took for myself was a couple of servings of muesli. Funny how we get attached to what we are used to.

As always on these holidays, everything comes to an end, but these memories, I hope, will linger forever. The positive difference that I have made in the life of one family, I have seen for myself; & I am so proud of them. The difference in my life has been good food for thought, with hopefully better things yet to come. But that is another story.

My health over there was great, but the day after I arrived back home I developed an upset tummy, which lasted about 10 days. Also my body clock was out of synchronisation. I was going to bed, sleeping for 2 or 3 hrs, then waking up, wide awake & ready to do something physical. It took me about 3 wks to readjust.

I have recently received the first letter, written by my goddaughter, Puris, since I left Isiolo. She tells me that her eldest sister gave birth to a healthy baby boy, 18 days after I said farewell to them all. They have decided to call him Bruce; I feel so honoured.