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Being curious and open to learning allows travel to greatly expand one’s view. A side benefit is experiencing unique architecture. In Kenya, the Airbnbs offer an interesting mix of European expats’ aesthetics and the clean, indigenous design. I look for intriguing sites and “mix it up” by not staying in the same ones on every visit. I began this trip with one listed as Nairobi Treehouse. Because I’ve learned a few neighborhoods, I could see this was in a safe, reasonably convenient location for some of my planned excursions.
It’s off a two-lane thoroughfare, Ruaka Rd., which I mention because I so enjoy the sound of the words here. Although my Swahili remains limited, I’m getting the hang of rolling my “Rs”, trilling my Os, and beginning to enunciate all “A’s” into short “O” sounds, in an effort to sound like a local. In addition there’s a special sing/song melodic sway to the phrasing, merging crisp British English and the joyful birdsong-like tones of Swahili. Also in Swahili all vowels are sounded out. Hence “Ruaka Road” phonetically is Rrrooo-AH-kah Rrode, with a softly emphatic “Dh” on the end.
From Ruaka Rd. an unnamed dirt and gravel lane leads to this place (bounded by a local police substation property on one side and Cheleta Public School opposite). This estate shares a gate with one residence, and only one other home is on the lane, all built within the last few years. Each of these are within walled compounds (topped by barbed wire or electric fence) with another 24 hr guard allowing access. This is a norm for any “estate” throughout Kenya - physical reminders of the caste system. (Hard not to wonder if America may be similar in a generation or two.) The school nearby means that every time I await my rides I get the great pleasure of seeing hundreds of uniformed students with brightly shining faces eager to see the tall Muzungo, often clamoring to get a wave from me. It’s a toss up which of us enjoys the attention more!
All three estates are at the base of a 1/4 mile long drive. I like to walk to meet my rides because in addition to the kids, there’s often a troop of Sykes monkeys hanging out. Strangely they don’t seem to have them on the estate grounds, perhaps because there’s a Rottweiler and a Rhodesian Ridgeback roaming in the fenced yard(?). As is my norm with critters, we quickly befriended each other. There’s a few empty plots of land in sight, the one nearest my entry gate has a row of old concrete block buildings. I was told by the security guard Earnest that these were for coffee harvests and roasting, suggesting this land was farmland before these three estates were built.
My lodging is in the rear corner of the large, neatly kept yard, private and very comfy. It’s an elevated structure on 8 ft. stilts, and surprisingly tall beyond that, wrapped in charcoal gray vertical metal siding. The side facing away from the main house has an amazing bank of five large windows, each 4 x 5 ft, as well as the standard glass-panned metal double door, also over-tall. Connected side and back decks overlook the flowing creek known as the Karura River, which is one of the defining borders of the important inner city preserve Karura Forest.
This is a preserve I’ve often enjoyed, heroically saved from development by the Noble Peace Prize activist/biologist Waangari Mathai, who for this and other defiant conservation and social justice stands against the unlawful political dealings endured beatings and imprisonment. Day and night there’s virtually no city sounds and I can hear the soft percolating stream, and enjoy many little birds feeding on the abundant blooms in the yard. A cluster of metallic blue and lemon yellow, pollen-sipping hummingbirds routinely entertain me.
The interior space of my airbnb is extraordinary. Roughly 20 x 24 ft, the ceiling is about 20 ft high, with a loft just big enough to accommodate the queen bed. The walls, floor, ceiling, cabinets, and built-in window tables are varnished plywood. There’s a sweet little wood stove (which I took advantage of on a couple of chilly mornings for heat and ambiance). The contrast of simple wood tones and vast glass wall set off a tasteful, simple modern style. All the furnishings are of clean, simple design.
The owners/residents are an architect from Holland and his Romanian spouse. They live in the “big house” with two boys, and are my hosts. Twin homes with separate yards share the same style, and both are grand places. From the outside they appears have cathedral ceilings and also uses similar window walls across the entire backside, with broad verandas or porches. The front entries have clean slate gray-toned concrete staircases and walls, softened neatly by greenery, gorgeous flowers even in this relatively fallow season, and light radiating through windows and metal gates. There’s another large building off to the side (which I assume the staff uses), as well as a gatehouse at compound’s entry, and a broad, simple concrete fire pit in back yard, with manicured gardens all around.
I make my way here food-wise by ordering basics from an organic grocer that delivers, enjoying foods as good or better than home for less cost, and eating out occasionally. The weather’s near perfect, 55-85 year round with a few months of wet & dry seasons. The geography and landscape are often breathtaking-taking. I find the people and their generous spirit, creativity, and quick sense of humor immensely appealing.
Yet amid all this beauty the contrasts of Kenya challenge me. It’s rapidly growing population struggling mightily to transform within a bustling wanna-be modern society. People from farmlands are flocking to urban centers, convinced they will find a “better” life via our conveniences, unaware of the trade-offs. I’m very doubtful we are more happy, and frankly suspect we’re far less. But how to convey this to one who has worked back-breaking manual labor for decades, eaten the same simple foods, lived in a spare structure with almost no possessions, and is now bombarded by the glitz and glamour of smart phones, modern advertisements and seductive technologies?
Nairobi boasts slick skyscrapers, universities, open-air malls rivaling ours, nightclubs, fine eateries, tourist glam-safari trips, and penthouse apts. These are within view of great poverty and depravation, including several entrenched and huge slums. On roadsides everywhere there are just-surviving folks in subsistence shack shops, selling edible goods and crafts. Land Rovers and Mercedes SUVs share the roads with questionably road-worthy old vans packed to overflowing with locals. Driving includes awareness of ragged-clothed Boda-bodas (motorbike taxis) that zip between vehicles, and pedestrians hustling across roundabouts. In many areas of this city of 6-7 million, farmers are walking their herds of cattle or goat along the shoulders and onto edges of roadways as they’ve done for generations.
Kenya’s exploding population and “kickback style” governance creates a struggling to catch-up infrastructure: there’s some decent roads (esp. the new Chinese built toll ways), but roads everywhere are worn with pot holes; a shoddy electrical and Wi-Fi grid challenges businesses and modern life; public schools are barely-supported; and there are few social safety nets. An entrenched and maddeningly-slow bureaucracy, and corrupt police and “officials” at all levels of govt. stifle the transition from village ways a few generations ago into a modernized society. Like too many nations on this huge mineral and resource-rich continent, Kenya is ripe for manipulation by foreign and corporate interests, with the big three (USA, China, and Russia) all eager to access her inherent wealth.
The immense natural beauty of the Kenyan lands and people is intermixed with a society hallmarked by the vast economic disparity, spurred by wanton pilfering, hoarding or waste, and hovering vultures after her resources. The economic class split here is impossible to not see. It’s a source of inner tension for me. I do my best to stay humble and kind, and try not to impose western arrogance into my discussions with Kenyans.
It’s encouraging to hear most Kenyans I engage with see clearly the causes of their circumstances. This at least gives me some hope for their future. Young adults and students are protesting the very corrupt govt (and being ruthlessly shot, “disappeared” or imprisoned) by a new President who campaigned on “anti-corruption” and, as one driver told me only half way ointments his first term is already ranked #1 or #2 as “most corrupt leader in the world.” (Take note, Americans!) The educated classes want to shake off the vestiges of colonialism, and there’s a slowly emerging middle class. All I interact with ache for a less corrupt, viable democracy.
Yet they must do so while battling the poisonous seeds of selfish modern life that helped foster the current mess. Considering what the USA’s Clown Prince and his Goons are doing to my own democratic republic, Kenyans and I find ourselves in similar boats flowing along the currents of our contemporary world. I hope a few of us are able to navigate these rough waters to safe shore.
It’s off a two-lane thoroughfare, Ruaka Rd., which I mention because I so enjoy the sound of the words here. Although my Swahili remains limited, I’m getting the hang of rolling my “Rs”, trilling my Os, and beginning to enunciate all “A’s” into short “O” sounds, in an effort to sound like a local. In addition there’s a special sing/song melodic sway to the phrasing, merging crisp British English and the joyful birdsong-like tones of Swahili. Also in Swahili all vowels are sounded out. Hence “Ruaka Road” phonetically is Rrrooo-AH-kah Rrode, with a softly emphatic “Dh” on the end.
From Ruaka Rd. an unnamed dirt and gravel lane leads to this place (bounded by a local police substation property on one side and Cheleta Public School opposite). This estate shares a gate with one residence, and only one other home is on the lane, all built within the last few years. Each of these are within walled compounds (topped by barbed wire or electric fence) with another 24 hr guard allowing access. This is a norm for any “estate” throughout Kenya - physical reminders of the caste system. (Hard not to wonder if America may be similar in a generation or two.) The school nearby means that every time I await my rides I get the great pleasure of seeing hundreds of uniformed students with brightly shining faces eager to see the tall Muzungo, often clamoring to get a wave from me. It’s a toss up which of us enjoys the attention more!
All three estates are at the base of a 1/4 mile long drive. I like to walk to meet my rides because in addition to the kids, there’s often a troop of Sykes monkeys hanging out. Strangely they don’t seem to have them on the estate grounds, perhaps because there’s a Rottweiler and a Rhodesian Ridgeback roaming in the fenced yard(?). As is my norm with critters, we quickly befriended each other. There’s a few empty plots of land in sight, the one nearest my entry gate has a row of old concrete block buildings. I was told by the security guard Earnest that these were for coffee harvests and roasting, suggesting this land was farmland before these three estates were built.
My lodging is in the rear corner of the large, neatly kept yard, private and very comfy. It’s an elevated structure on 8 ft. stilts, and surprisingly tall beyond that, wrapped in charcoal gray vertical metal siding. The side facing away from the main house has an amazing bank of five large windows, each 4 x 5 ft, as well as the standard glass-panned metal double door, also over-tall. Connected side and back decks overlook the flowing creek known as the Karura River, which is one of the defining borders of the important inner city preserve Karura Forest.
This is a preserve I’ve often enjoyed, heroically saved from development by the Noble Peace Prize activist/biologist Waangari Mathai, who for this and other defiant conservation and social justice stands against the unlawful political dealings endured beatings and imprisonment. Day and night there’s virtually no city sounds and I can hear the soft percolating stream, and enjoy many little birds feeding on the abundant blooms in the yard. A cluster of metallic blue and lemon yellow, pollen-sipping hummingbirds routinely entertain me.
The interior space of my airbnb is extraordinary. Roughly 20 x 24 ft, the ceiling is about 20 ft high, with a loft just big enough to accommodate the queen bed. The walls, floor, ceiling, cabinets, and built-in window tables are varnished plywood. There’s a sweet little wood stove (which I took advantage of on a couple of chilly mornings for heat and ambiance). The contrast of simple wood tones and vast glass wall set off a tasteful, simple modern style. All the furnishings are of clean, simple design.
The owners/residents are an architect from Holland and his Romanian spouse. They live in the “big house” with two boys, and are my hosts. Twin homes with separate yards share the same style, and both are grand places. From the outside they appears have cathedral ceilings and also uses similar window walls across the entire backside, with broad verandas or porches. The front entries have clean slate gray-toned concrete staircases and walls, softened neatly by greenery, gorgeous flowers even in this relatively fallow season, and light radiating through windows and metal gates. There’s another large building off to the side (which I assume the staff uses), as well as a gatehouse at compound’s entry, and a broad, simple concrete fire pit in back yard, with manicured gardens all around.
I make my way here food-wise by ordering basics from an organic grocer that delivers, enjoying foods as good or better than home for less cost, and eating out occasionally. The weather’s near perfect, 55-85 year round with a few months of wet & dry seasons. The geography and landscape are often breathtaking-taking. I find the people and their generous spirit, creativity, and quick sense of humor immensely appealing.
Yet amid all this beauty the contrasts of Kenya challenge me. It’s rapidly growing population struggling mightily to transform within a bustling wanna-be modern society. People from farmlands are flocking to urban centers, convinced they will find a “better” life via our conveniences, unaware of the trade-offs. I’m very doubtful we are more happy, and frankly suspect we’re far less. But how to convey this to one who has worked back-breaking manual labor for decades, eaten the same simple foods, lived in a spare structure with almost no possessions, and is now bombarded by the glitz and glamour of smart phones, modern advertisements and seductive technologies?
Nairobi boasts slick skyscrapers, universities, open-air malls rivaling ours, nightclubs, fine eateries, tourist glam-safari trips, and penthouse apts. These are within view of great poverty and depravation, including several entrenched and huge slums. On roadsides everywhere there are just-surviving folks in subsistence shack shops, selling edible goods and crafts. Land Rovers and Mercedes SUVs share the roads with questionably road-worthy old vans packed to overflowing with locals. Driving includes awareness of ragged-clothed Boda-bodas (motorbike taxis) that zip between vehicles, and pedestrians hustling across roundabouts. In many areas of this city of 6-7 million, farmers are walking their herds of cattle or goat along the shoulders and onto edges of roadways as they’ve done for generations.
Kenya’s exploding population and “kickback style” governance creates a struggling to catch-up infrastructure: there’s some decent roads (esp. the new Chinese built toll ways), but roads everywhere are worn with pot holes; a shoddy electrical and Wi-Fi grid challenges businesses and modern life; public schools are barely-supported; and there are few social safety nets. An entrenched and maddeningly-slow bureaucracy, and corrupt police and “officials” at all levels of govt. stifle the transition from village ways a few generations ago into a modernized society. Like too many nations on this huge mineral and resource-rich continent, Kenya is ripe for manipulation by foreign and corporate interests, with the big three (USA, China, and Russia) all eager to access her inherent wealth.
The immense natural beauty of the Kenyan lands and people is intermixed with a society hallmarked by the vast economic disparity, spurred by wanton pilfering, hoarding or waste, and hovering vultures after her resources. The economic class split here is impossible to not see. It’s a source of inner tension for me. I do my best to stay humble and kind, and try not to impose western arrogance into my discussions with Kenyans.
It’s encouraging to hear most Kenyans I engage with see clearly the causes of their circumstances. This at least gives me some hope for their future. Young adults and students are protesting the very corrupt govt (and being ruthlessly shot, “disappeared” or imprisoned) by a new President who campaigned on “anti-corruption” and, as one driver told me only half way ointments his first term is already ranked #1 or #2 as “most corrupt leader in the world.” (Take note, Americans!) The educated classes want to shake off the vestiges of colonialism, and there’s a slowly emerging middle class. All I interact with ache for a less corrupt, viable democracy.
Yet they must do so while battling the poisonous seeds of selfish modern life that helped foster the current mess. Considering what the USA’s Clown Prince and his Goons are doing to my own democratic republic, Kenyans and I find ourselves in similar boats flowing along the currents of our contemporary world. I hope a few of us are able to navigate these rough waters to safe shore.
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