Nairobi Sunrise

5:52 am and I’m rushing again. Slept six good hours but now paying the penalty for stealing five extra minutes in bed recovering from the GBH (Grievous Bodily Harm) inflicted by my alarm. I know Boniface our driver will be waiting downstairs with his battered Toyota. He’s never been late. Respect forces me on and I speedily pack and recheck the four suitcases once again. This is the last time I’ll do this in Nairobi, for today we leave Kenya and fly onwards.

Its still pitch black as Boni squeezes the Toyota into the traffic on Uhuru Highway. We crawl eastwards towards the airport, but there is no sign of the rising sun. Uhuru means peace in Kiswahili. It is also the name of the communications officer on board the Starship Enterprise, Star Trek’s first vessel from the 70’s TV show. “Lt. Uhuru, get me the Admirality quick” I hear Captain Kirk’s authoritative voice in my head. Back on Nairobi’s streets thousands of people walk to work in the dark. Do they wish for a starship or some other miraculous technology to lift them out of the acidic diesel fumes, the noise, the dust, I wonder? We pass a huge open space, waste ground between the factories. Amidst outcrops of rocks, bare trees and litter scattered across these acres, bonfires burn. Their eerie glow throws the people milling around these fires into silhouette. I see a lady dishing up a cooked breakfast for those late for work. Others just need warmth and strong, milky tea. I suppose the smallest comfort is invaluable in these dark hours. Personally I cant keep images of Dante’s Inferno from invading my mind.

As with all places along the equator, sunrise happens at a hellava lick. Suddenly we’re driving in broad daylight and the hellish imagery begins to fade. At the airport terminal we get a generous hug from Boniface and laugh and chat with the ever happy Kenyans. An hour later, flying high above the land with Mt Kilimanjaro slowly slipping by on our right hand side, I look out at the fluffy clouds below. The Blue Planet this is, when seen from outer space. At this altitude, the minute detail on the surface can not be seen. No more laughter, no more pain. No hunger, no enjoyment, no Sparletta Gingerbeer nor hot chapati’s. No more exquisite English and beautiful smiles. Silently I say goodbye to Kenya and wish this remarkable land ‘Uhuru’. As new elections loom and the fires from the vicious unrest that flared during the previous elections still smoulder, this may be an important wish to want to come true.

Two hours later I see the coastline of Madagascar creep into view. We plan to shoot the remaining 20 recipes on the Red Island during the coming week. Neither Ingmar nor myself have been here before and we don’t know what to expect. Madagascar is part of the African continent and travelling in Africa is something we do know well by now. So we are by no means apprehensive. But with stories of spirits appearing after dark to prey on children and babies named after various kinds of garbage, I cant help feeling we’re in for a bit of a surprise.