At 4:00 am, we reluctantly hop in our cab for the CPT airport. It’s a good thing that I was wide awake because our cab driver was not…he was either drunk or exhausted because about every three minutes he would swerve, every car on the highway was flying by us, and I’m pretty sure half the times I looked at him his eyes were closed. Luckily we made it, and six hours later we’re flying out of Jo-burg, sadly saying goodbye to South Africa, proudly holding our touristy vuvuzelas, and ready to head back to “real” Africa. We land in Nairobi at 2:45pm and although we proceed quickly to customs, 45 minutes later, I’m finally getting my passport stamped. Remember when I spoke so highly of my experience with Kenyan customs and the officer who helped me and commented on my smile? Yeah, I change my mind. Not only did the customs officer invalidate our current visas that are supposed to be good, but he made me go back and fill out the visa app form again, AFTER he let Fernando through without it. He also would not let me buy a single-entry for 90 days and made me buy a transit visa that only lasts 2 (that's going to help). He claims that Nairobi does not sell multiple entry visas (I'm not quite sure why the largest city and capital doesn't provide them). He must have felt me killing him with my eyes. Bad experience #1. We finally get our bags (minus my ski jacket that was evidently taken out of my bag during our wonderful customs experience. Bad experience #2.) and find Mama Shamim, who had been waiting with the cab driver for an hour and a half (why they got there so early, we don’t know, but this would come back to haunt us later with a $50 cab tab). In an attempt to get some souvenirs, Mama Shamim takes us to the Masai market in downtown Nairobi. We set foot on the grounds and within ten seconds, we each have 2-3 guys trying to help us shop, bringing us to their stands and harassing us for business. Within two minutes of being there, we each had about 5 guys and by the five minute mark, we’re fed up and leave. Bad experience #3. It’s pretty sad because for all their work to get business, they got NONE. And we will not be back. We then proceed to the grocery store to stock up on snacks for the bus ride back to Shirati. After having a guy cut right in front of us in the line, I pay and thank the bagger for my groceries by saying Asante (thank you in Kiswahili); he proceeds to inform us that “on this side of town [they] know how to speak English, so I should too.” Wow, talk about some friendly people. Bad experience #4. Luckily we eventually made it back to Mama Shamim’s and stayed inside enjoying time with Mercy, Mama, Natasha, and Carolina, safe from any more bad experiences. (I apologize for the negative comments, but this was my one horrible, angry, negative day of the trip. Great things are to come, I’m sure.)
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