Nairobi's Darkest Day

City in the Sun

When in primary school, all of us pupils back then used to look forward to when the term would end and have our holidays. As the exams of end of term came to an end, we would fantasize on all the activities to carry out and especially games to play in the whole month of April, August or December. I remember the closing day ceremony on 7^th August, 1998. A relatively cool morning in Nairobi, we assembled as a school on that Friday morning and by 10:00 am, we were sprinting home. I couldn’t wait to tune in and catch the morning cartoon shows. I remember finding my mother seemingly agitated. Not a fan of TV, she was keenly drawn to our 14” Great wall TV and I couldn’t figure out what the matter was. Without a word, I tried to make out what it was on TV. It seemed like a horror movie…flames engulfing a few buildings, people running in all directions, most covered in blood and melee that indicated something was very wrong.

But this was no movie as it was easy to identify that the horror on TV was in Nairobi and without any reporting, a caption on the bottom of the screen solemnly read: BREAKING NEWS-BOMB BLAST IN NAIROBI.

Devastation in the City

By that time, all I knew about bombs was what I’d seen on Hollywood flicks in movies and the pseudonym term we used for farting. With time, it was emerging clear that a catastrophe had befallen our Nairobi-the city under the sun. I was young back then but the reality dawned harshly on all of us as Kenyans. Over 200 people lost their lives on that fateful Friday morning. Thousand others were injured and millions of us acquired emotional scars that have never healed completely. In 1998 was the first time I learned of the term ‘terrorism’, a cowardly act of segments of people who like to have their agenda known or taken seriously by robbing of others life.

I remember 16 years later, the terror and anguish that gripped us as children. I was not even double digits old and I can never forget how with my small sisters-two years my junior, how we would put Bibles beneath our pillows in the night. We needed divine protection. I almost swore to never step into Nairobi the city. A tiny blast, even that of a balloon bursting would send cold shivers down our spines. We were scared.

Names of the 257 that perished at the Memorial Park

It’s now 16 years since Osama bin Laden and his Al Qaeda cronies based in Sudan back them decided to and executed terror unknown before to a people who were known throughout for their hospitality and peaceful nature. Almost two decades since that dark day in Nairobi’s history. It would be a forlorn look back at history if the events of that morning were just but a part of history. Sadly, things seem to have only gotten worse. Terrorism is now a global calamity that takes away the lives of thousands annually. Only three years later was the world shaken to a standstill when the US-seemingly the most secure nation on Earth suffered even worst attacks with 0ver 3,000 people perishing in the terror attacks of 9/11.                                                                                      

To compound the matters, a majority of victims have never had justice. And even if the American government decides to compensate the victims of the attack in 1998, some things money just cannot restore, especially to families and loved ones that had people’s lives snatched away from then in an instant. An instant of madness. An instant that proves that man is inherently evil.

May the souls of all that passed away passed away on that fateful morning rest in eternal peace. We will never forget.

Beautiful Republic

At 'Kona Baridi' i.e Cold Corner, near Ngong

I am a Travel and Tourism student. I love my course because it adequately covers what I am almost most passionate about. God’s grace enabled me join the best institute that offers Hospitality and Tourism learning in Africa. That not only means I occasionally interact with foreign students (that sounds discriminatory), but also offers a chance to travel far and wide mostly for research, familiarization and fun! This is a post about a recent trip to the Kenyan Rift Valley, a natural phenomenon of exquisite beauty and a geological masterpiece produced by millions of years of intense volcanic, tectonic and faulting processes. This we capped by paying a 3 day visit to the world renowned Maasai Mara Game reserve; host to the 7^th natural wonder in the world, the annual cycle of wildebeest’s migration to and from Tanzania’s Serengeti National Park.

Menu: Kenya...spoilt for choice

With colleagues after going through the gorge

Day 1 saw us travel to The Bogoria Spa Resort. Enroute we visited the flamingos’ paradise that is Lake Nakuru and got an aerial view of the Rift Valley near Kijabe. An elegant establishment owned by Kenya’s second president and less than quarter of an hour’s drive to the famous Lake it’s named after. It also prides itself for having the only natural spa in the entire world that constantly bubbles out water at 37°C, the human body temperature and as such, a pool has been built that offers not only the warm water but also healing properties for the skin. That was fun, trust me; swimming at 0200HRS in that water is unrivalled. Next day, we got the chance to visit the nearby Lake Baringo with its 7 islands including one which is dwelt by one man, his 5 wives and 27 children! Lake Bogoria is marvellous with its characteristic long and slender outline but more so the thousands of flamingos on its shores and geysers that spring over 20 metres high. Boiling eggs in its hot springs was also massively fun, and so was the partaking of themJ

Hell's gate and the spa's swimming pool

After two nights, we departed for the other lake town of Naivasha passing the Equator as we travelled South not to forget the spectacular Lake Elementaita just past Kenya’s most famous ‘nyamchom’ (grilled meat) location, Kikopey. The night was an eventful one and energy levels high as we planned an early hike in the absolutely fascinating Hell’s Gate National Park. This was to be followed by the two hundred kms journey to the Mara. For any man that hopes to propose marriage to a lucky damsel soon, I would suggest you do it at the gorge in the H.G.N.P…it began as a crack. This then developed and the erosion processes over millions of years has made the gorge a site to behold. We had a local Maasai guide and the hike through various spots took our breath away; from visible volcanic plugs, to rocks bearing hot water and steep descents and ascents coupled with the eerie feeling of being totally surrounded by wild animals is unrivalled. Let us just say it’s a smaller version of the Grand Canyon in Arizona.

Lakes Baringo, Bogoria, Nakuru and Magadi

Heading to Mara along the very straight Maii Mahiu-Narok Road, you’d be mistaken to think a ruler was used all through. We passed in between two volcanic mountains. Suswa on the left is extinct but the more spectacular Longonot is dormant; meaning it may just blow up anytime with no prior warning! The drive was long but we got to relax for two nights at Sarova Mara, a marvellous hotel built right inside the game reserve.

Locomotion; our tour bus in various locations

The drives in Mara are to die for and unique. Early morning we went to witness the unique Balloon Safaris. Basically, you pay 420 US$ (35,000 KSH) for an unforgettable experience composed of an hour in the air watching either animals, the African sun rise from far in the horizon or taking awesome aerial pictures. I give up. My words cannot describe just how amazing it is. It has to be done at dawn because then the sun has yet to make the air hot which would prevent the hot air rising up. The Mara River swarms with crocodiles and hippos and is a site to behold as thousands of animals cross for greener pastures, literally. After visiting more hotels and sites, our cameras were now full of pictures holding immense memories and it was time to drive back home.

One of the seven wonders of the World

Dear reader, Kenia ist schön  (Kenya is beautiful, German). Plan and get away from the city sometime. Explore the nation that is surely a Beautiful Republic. I remain, Njabia the 3^rd.

MOBBED TO DEATH

Where is that Rascal?

Amazing reader, how art thou? Hoping all is well in your world. If you are familiar enough with Kenya’s capital, Nairobi, then you may be in the know of the latest and probably best statue to commemorate a past hero of this great nation; yeah the almost perfect remake of Tom Mboya just at the center of the city, adorned in full African regalia with flamingos complimenting the landmark, just like in his native Rusinga island home. A tranquil place with designated seats for use by the public that for a few minutes turned into a scene of chaos and almost murder. This was sometime back as I waited for an acquaintance along Nairobi's Moi Avenue.

I wonder if he survived...

Prior to that incident I am about to narrate, the whole country was shocked and left in a daze after an innocent pastor in the Coastal town of Mombasa, together with a colleague had been brutally murdered in public after being confused for criminals. All that happened in daylight as a mob baying for their blood had broken the 6th Commandment and taken away their lives in cold blood. I remember feeling pity on the man of the cloth’s wife as she was too shell-shocked to accept what had befallen the father of her children and a shepherd of the human flock who worshiped at the Mombasa Melchidizek church of Buxton.

Back at the Nairobi incident, a similar occurrence almost unfolded before my eyes. This petty thief and a dumb one I have to say; had the nerves or rather stupidity to try and snatch a woman’s handbag at the  bus stop adjacent to the 3 star Hotel, The Ambassadeur. A place ever teeming with people, both departing and boarding buses for certain Nairobi destinations and an awful lot of unoccupied mortals; either idle or awaiting someone. A single blood-cuddling shout of alarm from the victim-to-be was enough to spring hordes of men into action, chasing the man as he crossed the few roads and into the reception of the Hilton Hotel for deliverance as he knew, just like you may know, the proverbial 40 days for a thief had come to a close.

The loss of a loved one pains to the core

The crowd baying for his blood were able to inflict enough beating to just about leave his life hanging by a thread and a few more minutes would have effectively reduced the world’s population by one was it not for the arrival of the police. He was whisked away but how lucky because hundreds more have lost their lives in similar circumstances.

As a kid, one of the most eerie moments were coming across a scene with a burnt tire; all the way that just wires showed and some bones of a thief burnt to death, with the aid of the said tire and petrol. Personally I know of two individuals, one killed by an angry mob after being cornered after some stealing exploits and another shot to death by police who opted not to capture and try him in court. These were both young men barely out of their teens and by virtue of personally knowing them, I stand on the side opposing 'mob justice'. I put it in quotes as that is no justice at all.

Jesus: He who is without sin, throw the first stone. (All flee)

Probably, you've seen how mob justice is meted and you may be on either side of the divide. Having property that you've worked hard for stolen or harm inflicted on you is a great boost to participate in mob justice but please, I beseech, that person crying out for mercy could be your relative, close friend or future spouse…before throwing that stone and splattering blood and brains all over, take a thought and allow compassion for fellow man to override the anger and rage of the moment. There are laws of the land, made to deal with such, and a God above, who declares vengeance to be His.

Thank you for your few minutes, wonderful reader. Till next time, I remain Njabia the 3^rd.

DEATH OF 'ART ON A MAT'

Art on a mat...

Brain-Child, Ferrari, Kichimbi, Liquid, Ruffcuts, S.W.A.T, Lugz…the names were catchy and diverse just as their various colours, graffiti and shapes but all of them rocked. For those of you wondering what I am talking about, it’s the trendy matatus that had become synonymous with most of the urban areas in Kenya; Nairobi especially leading the pack.  They were not only a mode of transport but also offered commuters a chance to experience a wild and adrenaline-filled ride whether to or from town.

Diversity is beauty!

As a Nairobian myself, I can only detail the mathreez that used to ply our city routes with both nostalgia and immortal memories. The battle between mathreez on each route was always amazing with the result being ever increasing creativity with the graffiti and accessories, louder music, wider L.C.D screens and faster speed on our roads. I recall in the early 2000’s when I first took a ride on one of the trending ridez that plied the Outering route and immediately got hooked to the thrill. ‘Liquid’ was its name, metallic blue the colour and savouring the moment I did!

As time wore on, I became aware that some routes seemed to have the very best rides with Buruburu, Eastleigh and Outering leading the pack by a mile. Getting to high school and having to commute daily gave me the chance to sample the best that Nairobi’s flashest had to offer. As I became more enlightened, I realized that not only did the flashy matatus offer unbridled ecstasy by riding in one but that many people relied on them for their daily livelihoods.

Best of them all...BRAINCHILD

What many never knew was that apart from the drivers and kanges (Turn-boys), the matatus also allowed gifted people with an artistic inclination to earn a living as they painted the mathrees in all sorts of colours, designs, graffiti and images that would especially concur with the hip-hop culture of most young people. Only when I got into college and start studying tourism did I appreciate the fact that also they were a part of Kenya’s tourism attractions! You see dear reader, nowhere else in the world has such unique public transportation vehicles. When other cities have walls subjected to paint, ours are mobile on wheels.

I may seem to have nothing but delight in these ‘tyrants’ of the road but there was also a downside to them. The madness on the roads was a constant cause of accidents, manhandling of passengers and other ills including disruption of learning to schools along the roads because of the extremely loud music at times. And I guess we began seeing the death of the urban mathree culture once the transport reforms were put in place in 2004.

Enacting laws that brought sanity to the roads system was a great thing but banning of especially graffiti was in my opinion not worthwhile. We may never know how many people and creative minds were deemed jobless and maybe how many among them turned to crime and other vices. Probably, the government will never know the significance that the matatus had to the urban youth nor to the tourism industry.

Chillin with Ronga's former finest...Tattoo

So as we reminisce the good old days,Rest in peace, Art on a Mat…till next time wonderful reader, I remain Njabia the 3^rd.

STREET LIFE

Street life

Walking briskly towards the place I normally board a matatu (public transport means) to take me to school from Nairobi City, I felt a hand tag on my shoulder. In a split second as I turned to meet the owner of the hand, assuming it was a long lost friend or a stranger alerting me on something…I came face to face with a huge dirty hand holding human excrement!!!

Various times I had encountered people who had passed through such an ordeal. What happens is that the street urchin will ask for some money in which (s) he will smear you with the body waste if you do not heed to their demands. I froze. But only for a short while as my mind raced between asking for the spirit of Usain Bolt to come over me and make a dash from the scene, or turning violent and hitting the dude. In the end I faced him and asked why he needed the 20 shillings he was asking for.

Anyway, we reached a mutual agreement but I was not overly angry, albeit shaken. As I proceeded on, I had deep thoughts about people living on the street. A repeat of the same came flooding into my mind today as I saw some young children snuggling on cartons along a side walk as the cold July chill bit hard. These two children who looked barely in their early teens made me take a hard long look at the comforts we take for granted many a times. As I did so, three individuals I know surfaced in my thoughts.

Sam* used to be the most likable kid you’d ever come across as we were young growing up in Dandora. He never seemed to trouble anyone or have a problem with the rest of us. Only difference was that he was a street child. Later on did I learn that they used to be wealthy until his mum passed on and he refused to live with a step mother for reasons best known to him. When we were young, we’d play with him and he was generous in giving my childhood buddies ‘chombo’ (nice stuff that he would get at the dumping site in Dando). It was not until I enquired of his whereabouts that I was saddened to hear that he still loiters around yet he is a man now, a victim of circumstances.

Kevin* was huge. Even as a young lad, you’d see he had the build of a heavy weight. No one really knew where he’d come from, but most people were kind to him for he had no home. I remember vividly my mum giving him soap to shower and some food to eat. He was introverted but kind to strangers. I recall one day he came back badly wounded from a gang fight and the people around raised some cash for his treatment. It was then he confessed to having no family. He still is on the streets, probably he has no better choice.


Brian* was both cheeky and funny. He had this ‘Martin Lawrence’ look. I remember as kids, we’d just look at him and laugh as if being tickled. And he was full of zest and energy. His annoyance was he was very loud and seemed to care for none other but himself. Like Sam, he was said to come from a wealthy home. He simply loved the streets for the sheer pleasure of the madness associated with it. Sometimes, his relatives would get him but he was always back with more vigour. It was a vicious cycle really. I do not know his whereabouts; the street simply gave him an unbridled thrill.

Huyo jamaa sio mwizi

Next time my dear reader that you encounter an unpleasant interaction with especially street kids, take a moment to reflect on their human side and instead of cursing and sneering, it might just be more worthwhile to reflect that it could have been you. I remain Njabia the 3^rd, till next time, CIAO!

(* Not their real names)