Uganda Might Be Number One, But To Loes, Kenya Is Number Two

¬†Loes and I jumped on the evening bus from Mbale to Nairobi, as the “itch” to start moving and exploring had overcome us both. We loaded up on our favorite foods, had our music, and said our prayers. Why prayers? Well the first thing they tell you about Kenya is to never travel at night. So obviously, the first thing we do in Kenya is travel at night. Well played, us!

The ride to the border went smoothly, but the walk to the immigration office was a bit questionable. They unloaded all of the passengers off on the main roadway, as traffic in our direction was at a standstill. Loes and I attached ourselves to some folks we *think* we on our bus, and follow them. The journey was a mixture of beauty and danger. Pitch black except for the lights of oncoming trucks, everything before us was just dusty silhouettes. Trucks sped by us as we walked along the side of the road, and we did our best to avoid hidden potholes and deep, muddy, puddles. The lights of the immigration office came into view, and we were soon surrounded by touts pushing peanuts, bananas, somosas and currency. We pushed and shoved our way through hordes of people (We aren’t being rude, that’s just how it works here. I swear.), made it through yet another immigration office, and eagerly open our passports to look at our new, shiny Kenya visas.

As we congratulated ourselves for a job well done, we noticed our bus slowly creeping away. No worries, we think, they are probably just parking. As the bus continued to creep away, confidence turned to doubt and our pace quickened. A few hundred meters later we flagged down the bus and it seems that the only people that were concerned were us. We shrugged, got back to our seats, and attempted to sleep away the next six hours of our ride to Nairobi.

Side note: Just a quick note on what a tough girl Loes is. This girl had malaria not even two days before this 12 hour bus ride. And what did she eat before this 12 hour bus ride? A big dish of Indian food. And what did she have on the streets, literally, right on the streets, in front of the Kenyan Immigration office? Horrible diarrhea. And what did she do it with? Class, nothing but class. However, this does make me wonder about those deep, muddy puddles we were avoiding earlier. I was walking directly behind her, you know.