30 Day Blogging Challenge: Day 10

Day 10: Best Trip of Your Life

Part I

I had to think long and hard before I could write this piece because for a 22-year-old I’m fairly well travelled. I really like travelling, as long as I’m on the road/on a flight then I’m happy. So, when I actually started thinking about it I figured I should talk about which trip taught me the most since I treasure growth above all else. That then made this a no brainier, I just had to write about the first time we drove from Namibia to Kenya and nearly two months later, back.

This was in late November 2007, I just recently turned 13 and was trying to figure out what exactly being a teenager meant. I lived in Namibia’s capital, Windhoek with some close family friends while my parents and sibling lived in the north-eastern part of the country in a small city called Rundu. Considering that this is closer to Kenya day 1 was driving the nearly 800-kilometre distance to my hometown (in theory, since I’m technically Nairobi born). I hadn’t figured this out then, all I could feel was my frustration but the facts were that I’d outgrown this town. I was so excited that we were going straight to Kenya and I didn’t have to spend more than one day here. The next day I would immediately regret this and the day to follow. The plan was simple, we’d take two days to get through Zambia and one day Tanzania, respectively.

Day 2 started pretty early, we were going from Rundu, Namibia all the way to Livingstone, Zambia. Now, I don’t know if I felt harassed because we left before the sun rose and arrived well after the sun set or because my picky self barely liked any of the food I was exposed to on the road, or maybe I just didn’t like Zambia? All I know is that I’d been TESTED more than I ever had before. I learnt just how comfortable being at home is this day. I remember us running through all kind of complications, losing a number plate because we somehow hit a guinea fowl and did you guys know you LEGALLY NEED reflectors to drive in Zambia? It’s illegal to drive without reflectors which we would learn at every police stop until we had to stop and get one. This was definitely not my beloved Namibia or familiar Kenya but some strange awkward place in between. I thought this was a bad day just because we were breaking into the travelling routine but to my dismay the next day was worse.

Day 3 was not as long, we left the hotel by the time the sun rose and had intentions to get to Tanzania’s then capital, Dar Es Salam. Did you guy know that the Zambian/Tanzanian border closes at 17h00, like an office? Well, we certainly didn’t! So, when we arrived JUST after 5 we were informed that we would only be able to cross to the other side the next morning. At first glance it was clear that this town was clearly more of a village than a town, an unfortunate layover town to anyone who had no affections for Zambia. We were all a little traumatized? I think we could have been able to handle it better if we’d not been on the road all day fantasizing about a mysterious luxury bed in Tanzania, if maybe I hadn’t skipped the meals on the road because I did not like them but a hotel could surely provide food that I wouldn’t fight with. But alas, we ended up in a ”motel” where the mattresses along with the blankets reeked of dust, green, sludge water came out of the taps and the man in charge was then and there plucking a chicken for supper (I have a thing about eating an animal I’ve seen alive. I’ll cook it, I just won’t eat it. Ever.). None of us slept well and for the first time none of us had complaints about being up and out by 5 am. We still had to wait until 7 though, because this border insisted on behaving like a government office. But all was well because we arrived in Dar es Salam while the sun was out and our parents had booked us a room fit for a sultan and the day after we arrived in Nairobi and our families went their separate ways to meet up later and again when we would come back home.

Part II

My stay in Kenya started out as usual I didn’t even suspect that this trip was designed to change who I was, completely. We parted and went to my Uncle’s residence, a quarter next to his church, who we fondly call Uncle Father because he’s a priest. I had plenty of books to keep me occupied because there was no DStv and I had a boyfriend person, kind-of back home, I was “happy” you could say. So, one night Uncle Father drags me and my brother to mass and after wants to take this European tourist to the other side of Nairobi and we comply, looking like hobos because who would we get dressed up for if we couldn’t even bother to do so for God?

So, off we go to Westlands which is quite a nice part of town, it’s late but when we get there and I’m offered chocolate and cartoons so I don’t complain. I eventually ask for DStv since I spotted a decoder which the lady of the house couldn’t switch to so she proceeds to wake her son up to do it for us. In hindsight if I had known I was about to meet my longest serving muse, still arguably the love of my life, a soul snatcher, the Pisces to my Virgo, the first to my love, I would have dressed up but he was in his PJs and half asleep when our eyes first locked, so I guess we were both as unprepared to meet each other.  Not to be corny but the attraction was instantaneous. Like the meeting of an acid and a base, there was undeniable chemistry. Of course, he spoke to me first later in what was then the early morning (in December Kenyan close friends have no concept of time) because there was no way I was speaking to him first. I was thirteen, awkward, had a boyfriend (kind of) and could not quite grasp all of the new feelings I was feeling which I later concluded was love at first sight. He was nice and was teasing me because that chocolate I mentioned earlier had alcohol in it and he was poking at my potential drunken state which was actually just me being awkward because, butterflies.

Over that holiday, we’d seen each other quite a few times, each time as unexpected as the first but I always made sure I left the house looking at least decent. We’d spoken quite a bit and I’d observed that he was really good with babies and small children and he was just an all-around cool guy. I can’t even say I was falling, I’d fallen when I’d met him and I wanted to tell him how I felt… But I didn’t. I was skinny. I was a tomboy girl who’d lost a braid or two in his house while all us children aged between 4 and 16 played hide and seek. I was always reading, I was awkward as hell and I knew it! Why would he feel the same way? I’d regretted this for weeks after, loathing myself for being such a coward. What if I ever saw him again? I’d vowed if I saw him again I would tell him. I didn’t want to be a coward anymore!

Soon, right after New Year’s my resolution was tested. We arrived from my mom’s village 200 kilometres outside of Nairobi at around midnight but my parents concluded that dropping us off at his place was the perfect idea. My initial thoughts are “shit!” because now I actually have to do it. And guess what? Just when I was about to shoot myself in the foot again, he made the first move and gave me my first kiss. If I’m perfectly honest, it was strange. But the second one? It was perfect. We were each other’s’ first… In this sense and some others. I’m not sure how many of you guys were keeping up with the 2007 Kenyan elections but when results were announced in this time period conflict erupted in Nairobi and the Western parts of Kenya. This played out pretty well for me, because we ended up being stuck at his place for a week after and the week after that his 3 brothers and he came to the church quarters to sleep over for 3 days. I remember us watching a movie and my brother falling asleep and falling off the bed and before I even had the chance to behave like the overprotective sister I am, he was there first making sure that he was okay. I said that I loved him first that night, without hesitation, without doubt, straight from the organ in my body that’s just supposed to pump blood. I swear he did everything right, even the way he said it back and saying goodbye was hard!

The trip back was much better because we knew what to expect this time around. It was sadder too because it felt like I was leaving my heart behind and I now had to start concocting a way to cut off ties with my boyfriend-person. To make things more complicated the family friends we went with and came back with had hit a biker on the way back so we had to stay in Tanzania a few more days than anticipated. They were in the western parts of Kenya, the violence’s epicentre so they had to drive through Uganda and meet us in Tanzania and this happened the day before we linked up. It was again traumatizing for all of us (them more than us, obviously) because they’d been in a car accident a few years prior. Luckily, we all got home in one piece.

The trip going and coming back, falling in love with him and then 5 years later falling out of love with him (mostly) changed who I was completely, and I’m so grateful for the experience. This experience taught me so much about comfort zones, about people about… love. So it’s undeniably the best trip of my life.