Kenyan wig chop

There are many volunteers from different organisations and countries here in Kenya, and there is a saying that there is one thing that unites us all; a bad haircut.

Many acquainted with my locks will no doubt think I have been sporting the Kenyan volunteer style since childhood.

It is true that experienced, mid-priced wig-choppers in the UK find my awkward, wavey curls difficult to manage, so I was a little concerned at entrusting such a key part of the 'first impression' I make to a barber who for 364 days a year doesn't need to pick up a pair of scissors. 

I was left with three options. First, and ruled out by Joanne straight away, was to play to the Kenyan barbers' strengths and have the ubiquitous extremely close or total shave.

Second, quickly ruled out by me, was allowing Jo to cut it with nail scissors.

The only remaining option was to go to a barbers/salon which looked respectable and ask if they do 'mzungo' (a white person) hair. These are the results. I had a closer crop than I would like, but other than a couple of stray longer locks I am relatively happy with the wig.

The point of this blog certainly isn't vanity, and I'm not daft enough to think this will prompt compliments about or fan mail to my hair. It's to make sure that next time a volunteer or other mzungo in Nairobi, like me, enters 'western/mzungo/european men's haircuts, Nairobi'  into a search engine, they get pictoral evidence of what they can expect for ksh 700 from Toby, who works in Queen’s salon on the second floor of T-Mall on Langata Road. 

Christmas and New Year in Kenya

One evening a few days before Christmas five intrepid volunteers packed some plastic cups, pancakes and bottles of wine and boarded possibly the slowest train known to man, the 14-16 hour Nairobi to Mombasa express. After a night spent unsuccessfully looking for elephants that we were warned sometimes stray onto the track we arrived in Mombasa, sticking to our seats and my hair immediately turning to wild curls.

Mombasa is Kenya’s principle coastal city and has a much different feel to it than Nairobi. Laid back people, the obvious humidity and resulting slower pace of life, the signs of Indian and Arabic influence on the people and a sense of fun and less stress. Refreshingly we were also able to both walk around the city safely and take public transport after dark. We were hosted by our wonderfully generous Canadian friend Heather who, between her and the ants, made perfect guides to the city. The drawback to this different style of city is that we did stand out more than we do in Nairobi and were treated much more as tourists with the phrase ‘jambo’ shouted at us so much it got very irritating.

And so to the Christmas festivities, joined by some other volunteers that we know living in Coast and a couple of German girls we picked up along the way. Christmas eve was spent overlooking a stunning beach front with a few camels in for good measure, a Christmas day meal consisting of butternut squash curry , chicken and improvised plum and apple crumble (cooked on and off in a power cut), and a boxing day trip to an animal park where Gareth and I made friends with a giant tortoise and got scared by the crocodile feeding time. We were sharing a great flat with our friend Tonja, the occasional frog, cockroach, lizard and stinging centipede (all of which are no match for Gareth, trousers tucked in socks and armed with some tupaware).

Then it was time to travel up the coast to a smaller seaside town called Kilifi where another friend of ours lives. Kilifi is situated on two sides of a stunning creek with beautiful bright blue waters and consequently a substantial amount of water/beach based activities to entertain you. Highlights were snorkeling in the marine conservation area and swimming in the bay at dusk.

There are a lot of British ex-pats here, apparently further up the coast it is Italians (Flavio Briotore has some sort of fake castle here) and down south Germans. The Boatyard restaurant (which failed to impress due to a ludicrous ticketing system designed to make you spend more money than you wanted) seemed to be full of Brits talking about boating trips and the like. Not really a place we felt comfortable hanging out . The Brits have a fantastically decadent lifestyle here, gorgeous houses overlooking crystal clear sea with few neighbours, private yachts and staff on hand.

Gareth and I got a sneaky peak inside one of these houses when I had to go to the toilet while down on the beach. Stunning house, but probably tax-dodgers we thought.

We stayed in the hotel Titanic which, sadly, despite the friendly staff, failed to notice the guests who appeared to have checked in for just 2 hours in order to steal our friends’ laptop and camera. The rooms were also like saunas but the bar had a good atmosphere and never failed to show a premiership match during the week.

On New Year’s eve we hired a Dhow boat, took a trip out into the creek, had a sunset swim and barbequed fish on the beach. It was stunning. Then it was back to the Titanic for a roof-top disco cheesier than Fab Café and seeing in the New Year with a Tusker beer or two. The next day the bus back to Nairobi, arriving to find we’ve got no electricity or water and learning that at work 3 of my colleagues have, rather unexpectedly, been laid off. Back to reality with a bump you could say!

More pictures available at:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/61370474@N03/sets/72157626425995184/