10 Month African Trails Epic Adventure: Week 32

Nairobi and around

day 216 - day in Nairobi
day 217 - day in Nairobi

Week 32 Jun. 16th - 22nd

day 218 - day in Nairobi
day 219 - day in Nairobi
day 220 - day in Nairobi
day 221 - day in Nairobi
day 222 - day in Nairobi
day 223 - day in Nairobi
day 224 - day in Nairobi

Arachnophobia, Anatidaephobia and more

I genuinely believe that everybody in life is born with a phobia. I'm not kidding I really do! I think that every person on this earth is landed with at least one major fear or anxiety and they have to learn to accept their limitations or figure out how to get over them or work their way around them. Most people probably have very common and ordinary phobias such as arachnophobia, vertigo or claustrophobia, they're not exactly unusual or hard to find in most folk. Or you could suffer from a more esoteric phobia that you're very unlikely to find any support groups for. Such as the dreaded anatidaephobia: fear that somewhere, somehow, a duck is watching you (see the picture above left if you don't get that last one)

If you're really unlucky you could find yourself overcome with a phobia that could threaten to happen at any time such as hypnophobia (fear of sleep), ommetaphobia (fear of eyes), levophobia (fear of objects to the left side of the body), or you could even have panophobia (fear of everything) which would most likely cause the stricken individual to be reduced to a quivering wreck of a human being who is so utterly tormented that they spend their days curled up in the foetal position, crying and cowering in a corner and wishing they could kill themselves but can't because they're scared of suicide as well.

And then there are the lucky people in the world who's psychological malaise is a fear of something that is utterly unable to affect them in any way whatsoever. Such as fear of gravity reversing itself, fear of evil midgets spying on you or even chronodisplacementonecromaladyophobia (yes I made that word up, that's fear of going back in time, getting stuck there and then contracting a terminal disease that's curable in the future but not in the past). Or arachibutyrophobia (fear of peanut butter sticking to theroof of the mouth), I mean you'd just have to stop eating peanut butter and then bingo! Problem solved!.

Now I certainly don't mind heights, my constant hijinks involving parachutes, bungee cords, climbing boots or abseiling gear should serve as proof of that. I don't mind spiders, in fact I think they're quite cute sometimes. And since I've crawled through dark and cramped underground caves several times, squirming through spaces that are slightly more diminutive than a small coffin, bending my limbs like a contortionist in order to fit through, I've also concluded that I'm not claustrophobic. Not only that but I rarely ever find myself looking over my shoulder in fear of mischievously voyeuristic ducks. Or clandestine evil midgets.

I'm not writing these claims to try to impress anybody, I'm just trying to put things into perspective. Because I do have a phobia. One that I do believe is not entirely unusual among men although I doubt that the average person would know the name of it. I suppose you could call it Venustraphobia (yes I actually looked it up!): fear of approaching beautiful women. It's pathetic I know; I mean what exactly is the worst thing that could happen when attempting to court a highly attractive member of the opposite sex, that they could say NO I'm not interested? But I've always been a pitifully inept and useless douchebag when it comes to the perplexing conundrum of what to say, what to do and how to act when trying to chat up women on an average drinking night out. My staggering ineptitude with the fairer sex has never been more obviously displayed that when the African Trails truck was set to leave Lake Naivasha to head towards Nairobi. It was at that point that I was approached by a stunningly beautiful young Australian lass (with the most amazing eyes I'd ever seen) who was asking if she could hitch a ride on our truck which she heard was apparently heading towards Nairobi that day. Of course the decision was not up to me, it was up to our intrepid driver: Gavin. I calmly and shamelessly sidled my way towards Gav and nonchalantly asked him if he didn't mind taking an unexpected extra passenger to Nairobi, he accepted but I distinctly noticed him give me a 'go on my son!' smirk as I welcomed this newcomer to the truck. Before long we were in Nairobi and I found myself leaving the truck with this stunning, radiant young maiden in order to head on into central Nairobi where I would be spending the next couple of nights and not in Karen camp, the camp-site located on the edge of town where the truck would be parking itself for the remainder of the time in Nairobi.

I was impressed with this confident young lady, Emma was her name and she was traveling around Africa on her own for several months before returning to her antipodean homeland to finish her 3rd year of college. I enjoyed spending a couple of nights in central Nairobi, being shown around the city by Emma who, despite only spending a few days in town had become an expert on the place. Taxi travel in Nairobi is very expensive but the alternative is either bus or matatu travel. Matatus are wonderful ways to get around Kenya and they offer a much more authentic 'African experience' than simply hopping in an overpriced cab like an unadventurous tourist. You catch these rattling, clanging and rusty minivans and hail them down as they pass you on the street and after handing a pittance over to the money-taker you squeeze in tightly into the cramped and overfilled vehicle and wait for it to reach its destination, wherever that may be. Some long distance journeys require a change of vehicle but the cost usually amounts to something within the realm of 40KSH (about 33p) which is a darn sight more affordable that taxis which can cost up to 1500KSH (14 pounds) for a trip all the way into the town centre. Not only that but matatu drivers are completely insane and regularly engage in the practice of skipping traffic jams by driving on the wrong side of the road or even driving off the road altogether and ploughing their way along the unstable pedestrian dirt paths along the side of the road! In town we both found a charming and reasonably priced little hostel to stay in. That day we also attended a performance from the Kenyan Storytelling Festival, a enlightening and whimsical experience that allowed us to get in touch with some of the local folklore, as well as some stories from other parts of the globe. Later on me and Emma met up with the others from the truck completely at random after encountering them at a bar in the town centre, apparently they'd also decided to leave Karen camp and come into town as well. The next day we spent the day exploring Nairobi before Emma hopped onto a bus to head towards the coast in Mombasa.

And did anything happen between myself and this wonderful young lady? Of course not! Why change the habit of a lifetime? This is ME we're talking about remember! I'm quite sure that if Adolph Hitler and myself gatecrashed a Jewish wedding and tried to pick up chicks, the fuhrer would be far more likely to score and go home with somebody else. Mind you I should have been appreciative of the fact that this girl even TALKED to me instead of giving the normal look of disgust I get from women, the kind of 'oops I stepped in something and scraped it off my shoe' look. At any rate I seemed to have fallen directly into the dreaded 'friend zone ' and I gave Emma my email address and then I retreated back to Karen camp with my tail between my legs, ready to drink away my problems. Several of the Af-trailers had just arrived from their multi-day trip to the Masai Mara game reserve and, unfortunately for them, were just in time to meet 'Angry Drunk Dan' as I plastered myself into an alcoholic stupor and winged to whoever was in earshot about the complete pointlessness of my existence and my utter failure and loneliness in life. Still at least 'Angry Drunk Dan' doesn't appear very often, in fact the last and only other time he turned up was in Victoria Falls when I was similarly thwarted in another hopelessly disastrous attempt to chat up a woman that I mistakenly and foolishly thought was one tiny iota interested in NOT vomiting all over me in complete loathing and disgust at the prospect of maybe getting to know me a little bit more intimately.

Perhaps I shouldn't drink so much, I mean I could count on one hand the number of days on the trip I HAVEN'T drunk alcohol, not counting of course the many days in the Northern African countries where alcoholic beverages were not available due to the mainly Muslim nature of the said countries, because not drinking by choice is different to not drinking because you're in a 'dry' country isn't it? But what else am I supposed to do? NOT drink? How else am I supposed to get through the day? Besides, the principal reason I drink so much is to vainly attempt to ameliorate my discontent with life and to assuage my doubts and anxieties that have plagued me throughout my entire adult life. I'm sure any reasonable doctor would concur that I medically NEED booze in order to survive in life. So there! You can fuck off if you don't approve!

So I needed some cheering up and unlike Cape Town, Nairobi doesn't actually contain the necessary death defying activities that are usually required to pull me out of one of my childish sulks. So with no bungee jumps or cliff abseiling centres nearby I was forced to instead visit several of the many wildlife centres that were located around town, instead relying upon the company of various animals to put me back in a good mood again.

The Nairobi Giraffe Centre

The Giraffe Centre was quite a revealing place. I made me realise quite a few things about my life and the lives of other animals. First of all I found out that giraffes are like people, some of them are arseholes! Perhaps I should explain: the Nairobi Giraffe Centre is a place that is attempting to bring back the rare Rothschild's Giraffe from the brink of extinction. This subspecies of giraffe is critically endangered and only five to six hundred of these creatures exist in the world. The giraffe centre helps to raise these animals in open enclosures, looking after them and breeding them before releasing them into the wild. Visitors can feed the creatures from a raised platform that allows people to stand eye to eye with these lofty animals. But some giraffes have different personalities. Several of the creatures in the compound had taken enthusiasticly to the practice of head-butting anybody who tried to pet them without giving them food. These surly giraffes certainly weren't as delightful, patient and affectionate as the wonderful specimen that we encountered in Namibia at the cheetah farm. Some of them weren't so aggressive however and I was able to snap some good photos without getting my head bashed in.

The other dramatic epiphany I had, the one about my life, was not quite as pleasant as I would have hoped. Something occurred to me. Something that on one hand seemed so fundamentally absurd, ludicrous and insane that I had to laugh and on the other hand was so utterly depressing and shameful that it made me want to throw myself in front of a train. It occurred when I managed to steal a kiss from one of the giraffes. Yes you heard that right. I'm not saying I'm so desperate that I spend my days attempting to engage in passionate romantic encounters with game animals (really I swear!) but apparently one of the tricks that you can perform with these creatures is to put a bit of food in your mouth and have the long necked beast grab it out of your mouth! Tongues and everything! I figured it would be a laugh and would make a good photo. But it was only later on, while I was reviewing my photographs that it suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks: 'oh my god, I'm more fucking successful at courting giraffes than I am with women!' Because I kissed a giraffe that day and I didn't even have to introduce myself or buy it a drink! Is my life really that bloody ridiculous?

As I said: I wasn't sure whether to laugh or to jump in front of a train. I'm sure you've come to the conclusion that the fact I'm writing this blog causes you to infer that I chose the former option. Well you're quite wrong, I just got lost in Nairobi and couldn't find the train station. So I was forced to settle and just laugh about it instead. Even though the giraffe never even called me back! Ungrateful scoundrel!

The Elephant Orphanage

After viewing the gorillas in Uganda I had come to the conclusion that a baby gorilla was the cutest animal on planet earth. That was until I visited the David Sheldrick Elephant Orphanage. I know I change my mind a lot but you probably would have too if you'd seen these enchantingly sweet and adorable baby pachyderms frolicking around and playing like puppies. Huge oversized wrinkly grey puppies. The orphanage was a place that operated with similar intentions to the Giraffe centre: to rescue baby elephants from the wild that had been orphaned either by natural causes such as drought or by poaching, which is sadly still a problem in Africa. They take the young elephants and raise them on a huge area of land where they can gradually learn to fend for themselves. Once per day these elephants are led up to a viewing area where they are fed by their keepers and given some time to play with each other under the watchful eyes of visiting tourists. Eventually the creatures are returned to the wild where they're hopefully able to integrate with other elephant herds and live a normal life.

The baby elephants were about as cute as an animal can possibly get. They were very playful and put on quite a show for us, running around and waving their trunk around and if they had just noticed that they have one and in some cases even kicking a football around between themselves and their handlers. I noticing how affectionate these young elephants were with their keepers, they would frequently hold on to them with their trunks. Sadly this wonderful show was over too soon, the feeding and playtime took place between 11 and 12 in the afternoon and soon it was time for these fascinating young animals to return to the fields. I'd recommend this wonderful experience to anybody who is an animal lover, it really was fantastic.

The KWS Animal Orphanage & Safari Walk

After some more adventures traveling through town on several more hair raising matatu journeys I found myself at the KWS wildlife centre, the place that our gallant tour-guide Summer had worked at for quite some time before becoming an African Trails employee. The KWS runs an animal rescue centre where orphaned animals are cared for and rehabilitated until they can be released into the wild. Any animals who can't be released are either kept in the orphanage or transferred to the safari walk next door which is basically a large zoo which keeps animals in a simulated recreation of their natural environment. It's certainly a guilt free zoo to visit, the animals here would have died if they weren't rescued so it's quite a wonderful place to explore. At one point I was able to meet a couple of friendly warthogs that were named Patricia and Patrick. I was even able to rub noses with them through the wire fence! Wonderful. I also managed to snap my only pictures so far of a leopard on the trip. I had seen a leopard in the wild during my Lake Nakuru trip but wasn't quite fast enough to grab a photograph.

The KWS centre was certainly an interesting experience where I was able to get close to some amazing animals. It's certainly not as enchanting as coming across wild animals on game drives but it was still nice to know that the purpose of this place was to rescue and rehabilitate animals, not just to capture them and put them on display for human entertainment. As I said: guilt free entertainment for all!

So there you have it, cuddly and cute animals did in some way help to partially yank me out of my bad mood. For the time being at least or until the next time I totally blow it with yet another member of the fairer sex. And I really shouldn't complain too much about my life. After all I'm on an amazing overland truck, travelling through countries that most people will never visit, and some that many will have ever even heard of. Plus I met a nice giraffe who let me give it a kiss! And hey, I managed to overcome my other phobia: Daemnaleporidaephobia. Now I no longer live my life in constant fear of demoniacally possessed evil bunny rabbits ambushing me and nibbling upon my ankles. So it's not all bad.

And I'll try not to be so self centred, negative and melancholy in my next blog update, I promise!

Giraffes, don't get involved with them!