A Precarious Outing

My fabulous roomies and I decided to try our adventure caps out on the weekend, and selected the tropical Kakamega rainforest as our first destination. To get there, we voted for a stop in Kakamega to load up on food staples and Kenyan shillings. We settled on the disgusting, yet filling ‘Supaloaf’ bread and jam (from which launched a re-mix version of the Internet sensation “Peanut-butter Jelly Time” – “Supaloaf and Jelly Time” at every meal) for lunch, dinner AND breakfast the next morning. This, sadly, with the addition of 50 shilling crackers and a bottle of water each, was the maximum our daily food budget allowed.

We began the long and frustrating process of locating a matatu that would take us to Shinyalu, and after relying on multiple matatu-assistants for directions, we finally found where the main stage was. Our matatu was strikingly different to those we were used to. It was almost like a pickup with a cap on the back, which was where we sat, one row down each of the sides of the vehicle and a small wooden bench directly behind the driver cab. Unfortunately for us, we were only the 2nd/3rd/4th persons in the matatu so we ended up waiting almost an hour for it to fill. It eventually became so crowded (with five people on either side, one on the bench, and three people standing hunched over at the waist down the middle of the rows) that part way through the trip Natalia and I mused that we would never again complain about the TTC. The subsequent voyage was filled with sheer terror at every dip and bump along the road, as the vehicle was carrying a very heavy load on top and we seemed to nearly tip every few meters. I have never prayed so hard, and hoped that my attendance at the church service the previous Sunday had secured me a spot in the good book.

Thankfully, we arrived in Shinyalu with nary a scratch, and hired two piki-pikis to take us to our ‘banda’ in Isecheno. Another bumpy, muddy ride and many declarations of ‘pole pole!’ and we suddenly found ourselves in a peaceful paradise being greeted by a troop of Black-and-White Colobus monkeys swinging in the lush tree tops above us. Our banda was a thatched stone hut surrounded by secondary forest that slept three people in two separate sleeping areas - we were very happy that we didn’t have to share as we were slightly paranoid about security. We arranged for a hike after our lunch (Supaloaf and Jelly Time!) and trekked off into the abundant primary forest.

Our guide, Abraham, was very knowledgeable and pointed out parasitic fig trees that strangle other trees to death, trees well over 50 meters tall dating back 200 – 400 years, famous deadwoods, medicinal plants/trees (even one that is a cure to prostate cancer), and blue monkeys watching us warily. As we tromped through, I imagined the description in “The Poisonwood Bible” (written by Barbara Kingsolver) and was on the eager lookout for the green mamba snake lurking in the tree tops (don’t worry Mom, it did not make an appearance. Apparently snakes hear the vibrations and skedaddle long before we would have a chance to see them... or so our guide reassured us). We reached a grassland area that was slowly being eaten up by rainforest with the gentle push and reforestation aid from park rangers, and climbed a tower to look out over the treetops of the forest. Then the rain started. An innocent shower at first, which was acceptable - after all, what was a rainforest without a little rain? By the time we were back on the path, it began to pour. We found shelter underneath a fig tree that had killed and swallowed its host, finding a use for the bully, and huddled until the rain let up a bit. We then continued to another tree that was hollowed out and posed for photos, though only Natalia was lucky enough to squeeze one in before the sky opened up for a severe downpour. We awkwardly huddled somewhat inside the tree for maybe 15 minutes, hoping that it would let up, but then decided on making a run for it when I brought up the question of whether it was a good idea to hide inside a tree in a thunderstorm. At first we delicately sprinted, bounding over puddles and dodging mud, but by the end we were soaked through so let our feet fall anywhere that was on the fastest path. Back at the bandas, we enjoyed a tourist-price thermos of tea (costing 300 KSH for the thermos... triple the price and very expensive for girls used to 10 KSH a cup) while playing cards and waiting out the rain that went on for hours.

Later, on our courageous night walk on our own accompanied by my trusty headlamp, we encountered a giant yellow caterpillar (similar to the one Timone eats on the Lion King... apparently they taste like chicken...) and spotted a pair of big yellow eyes belonging to a Lesser Galago aka bushbaby hanging out on a tree branch above. This satisfied our wildlife-spotting goals and we were a bit freaked out with worry for the guard dog next door (or maybe it was a jackal, we’re still not sure), so headed to bed a bit early dreaming of cockroaches and mosquitoes.

The next morning I rose early for a sunrise trek to the top of the highest hill in Kakamega Forest. Natalia and Allison decided to sit this one out, so I met Abraham in the pitch black of the early morning and we ventured out on his motorbike to the trailhead. Since it had rained so much the night before, the muddy road was a bit treacherous, but he was quick to catch us to prevent tipping as we slid along. I wasn’t paying too much attention though, as my eyes were glued to the treetops and sides of the road, waiting to spot a primate or a jackal. No luck.

Probably the most amusing part of life in Kenya is the local habit of apologizing for another person’s falters. If you were to ever hit your head getting out of a matatu, expect seven echoes of ‘sorry’ from the passengers still inside. I have unwillingly tested this often and always find the same result. On this particular hike, as my neck was careened upwards to allow my eyes to remain fixed to the trees, it left my pathway in the dark and I clumsily tripped my way along, causing Abraham to apologize for the rocks and stumps in my way about twice a minute. I think he was tired of it by the time we reached the top, as it decreased in frequency on the way down.

The sunset was spectacular. We had a view over the entire rainforest and could hear the monkeys and birds calling as they slowly awoke. Clouds hung over the treetops like frosting, and I went a bit picture happy trying to capture the beauty of it all. Somehow I don’t think I have done it justice, as it is even more stunning in person that it is in photos.

On the walk back to the motorbike, we encountered many fungi, a bird’s nest with unhatched eggs, winding vines that instantly made me feel like I was in the BBC documentary ‘Life’, woody crawlers, a chameleon, and a poor poor deadibones baby monkey who had fallen from the tall tree tops above. I cried a little inside as we moved her off the road to prevent squishing. Her parents made calls to us as they watched us concerned from up above in the treetops. A very sad sight.

Back at the banda, the girls were up and alert, so we ate breakfast (Supaloaf and Jelly Time) and started walking to meet our piki pikis, on which would be a 30 minute ride to Khayega. Somehow, I ended up with the donkey of piki pikis. Ten minutes into the ride, he announced that he thought we might have a gas problem (aka he was out of gas). As we putted to a stop, he instructed me to wait where I was and he then walked his bike over to a random store to get a water bottle full of fuel. Problem solved, we continued again. Along the route we passed many piki pikis that seemed to be in the same predicament. No sooner had my driver commented on this, when we were once again putting to a stop – this time a mechanical problem with his chain. While waiting for him to detach his tools to fix it, I received a frantic call from the other two girls, concerned because they’d lost sight of us. We caught up to them in Shinyalu and continued on together to Khayega. In Khayega we were whisked onto a matatu, jumping in front of the line of locals waiting (which we didn’t notice until we were in the matatu and later felt badly about it). We headed to Chavakali Junction while trying to ignore the dangers of the clanging gas cylinder rolling beneath our seat and the kamikaze swerving by the driver.

At the Junction, where we would change for a matatu to Mudete, we found ourselves in the middle of a matatu fight. I am sure I saw a punch thrown as we were grabbed by multiple men trying to get us to select their matatu to travel in. Allison even had her hair pulled as we struggled our way through the mess, ripping our arms out of their grasps. We quickly found one offering us the lowest price and hopped in, thinking that was the end... not so. A few meters down the road and we found our matatu nearly being rammed in the side. As we stopped to let another lady on, another matatu drove up beside and the driver reached out the window to shove the slider door shut on the poor lady to prevent her from boarding. Some more jostling and foul words (I’m sure... though it was in Kiswahili), and we finally just sped off down the road. We half expected someone to run us down, but alas we arrived safely in Mudete. The three of us felt like kissing the soil... but refrained as we probably would have caught a gross bug. It was good to be home.