Home » Kenya » Nairobi to Dar Es Salaam, plus the World Cup- first weekend (6th June 2002)

“The trouble with the rat race is that even if you win, you are still a rat.” </br> Lily Tomlin

Nairobi to Dar Es Salaam, plus the World Cup- first weekend (6th June 2002)

Roundtheworldbybike
2005-11-18 11:25:54

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I struggled to leave Kenya: tracking elephants through the bush on foot and flying in a tiny 4-seater plane alongside Mount Kenya with the pilot fast asleep at the controls is certainly more fun than cycling. But I did eventually drag myself away from Nairobi and pointed my nose once more in the direction of Cape Town.

Two people who really understand my journey gave me presents. Sophie, a fantastic artist who is also writing a book titled “My Husband and Fifty Camels” gave me a Moleskine diary to elevate me into the hallowed company of travel writers such as Bruce Chatwin and Ernest Hemingway. Rob, a soldier for many years, presented me with a spoon. Not just any spoon, mind you: this is a ‘racing spoon’, favoured by certain Regiments of the British Army because its shape allows you to shovel very large mouthfuls of food into your mouth at very high speeds! Perfect for me. To the unenlightened a ‘racing spoon’ could easily be confused with the kind of ordinary plastic soup spoon easily purloined from any Chinese restaurant in Hereford.

Along the road out of Nairobi salesmen touted for business, without much apparent success. At least the man selling second hand toilets had something to sit on whilst waiting for customers.

I find myself hating vehicles and all who dwell therein. Tourist Landcruisers and ever increasing numbers of Overland trucks roar past me in air-conditioned heaven at 100mph. They do not stop, they do not wave, most do not even see me- it’s almost as if they do not care about poor little me. Hot, tired and painfully slow: a bit of self-pity and irrational hating helps to pass the time. Of course they don’t care about me- why should they?!

Many Masai men ride bicycles- red robes flowing, staff or spear clutched in one hand, bell ringing in greeting with the other hand. One man invites me to his village to spend the night. The village, far from the road and protected ...