Once you have cleared passport control, go down the stairs to the baggage and customs area. There is a Money Exchange office inside the baggage and customs area and an ATM outside customs. There will also be kiosks for buying phone cards from either Safaricom or Celtel, the two best Kenyan companies. [I did this straight away. I figured others might want to as well.] Make sure to change American dollars for taxis, hotels, and buses if you are spending the night in Nairobi. There are flush toilets on this level. [When I first saw this about toilets, I thought, What an odd item to just sort of throw in there . . . I never thought it odd again.] Retrieve your bags (carts are free) and head for the Taxi area. There will be a crowd holding signs for particular designated passengers but taxi drivers will assist you immediately. If you have an immediate connection to Kisumu, the domestic airline is nearby and well marked. [This is yet another area where I fail to correct an imperative. The domestic terminal is in fact separate; it is outside past baggage and security check and a quarter mile down the road. I didn’t know this, and the next morning I had the taxi driver drop me at the first long queue I spotted outside, near a Kenya Airways sign. After standing in the line for awhile, the security checker looked at my ticket and informed me that I was in the international terminal and instructed me to “Hurry, mama!” to the domestic terminal. I shouldered my monster backpack and ran down the road, getting to the next queue, waiting in another long line, and finally arriving at my gate with just minutes to spare. How did I not remember this?] Ask for directions. [Oh … ]
After purchasing your ticket, approximately 12,900KSh round-trip (KSh stands for Kenyan shillings), [It cannot be assumed that everyone knows this.] line up and go through security. For international flights in the U.S. the baggage limit is 70 lbs. On domestic flights within Kenya the limit is 45 lbs. If you are over the limit, you will have to return to the ticket office to pay the additional 60KSh per kilo. [I didn’t make note of this fact. But with everything I’d brought for the orphans, my pack was well over the proscriptive weight limit. Perhaps because I was sprinting, feeling flushed, crazed, and white, the agent allowed it. It wasn’t until I’d safely jumped aboard the tiny plane, which was so small that from my seat I could give the pilot in the cockpit a neck rub, that I worried, I hope everyone on this aircraft hasn’t been allowed extra weight.] When you reach Kisumu, a member of the mission staff will greet you.
If you are spending the night in Nairobi, make sure to arrive back at the airport at least 1 and 1/2 hours in advance. It is possible and advisable [I saw no way to get a cab at the hostel.] to arrange with the taxi driver who took you from the airport to return at a specified time the next day and pick you up to take you back to the airport. [I omit a warning not to count on being on time, as promptness isn’t much of a concept in Kenya. My taxi showed up but it rolled in about 30 minutes late, precipitating my frenzied leap from the vehicle at curbside and mad dash to the wrong terminal.]
Consolata Sisters Flora Hostel on Fifth Ngong Avenue across from the entrance to the Kenyatta National Hospital is clean, reasonably priced, and not far from the airport
(1600 to 2000 KSh taxi fare). [except everything is far from the airport] Please let them know when you book your room if you will be arriving on an evening flight so that they can leave a key to your room with the security guard at the gate. [The letter goes on to list the hostel’s phone and fax numbers, e-mail address, and cost for either a single with a private bath or double with a shared bath. I booked a single with private bath but that’s not what I got. It was well after dark when my taxi delivered me to Flora. From the airport, we drove around for a half hour and the trip was disturbing, to say the least. Nairobi is a cesspool: smelly, filthy, ominously barbed wired, barricaded, and much more of an industrialized, big-city nightmare than I ever imagined it would be. My driver, an eighteen-year-old kid named Ishmael, unwittingly introduced me to the Kenyan national pastime of locals asking muzungus for money. It took him over thirty minutes to find our destination and by the time we arrived at the hostel, the rod-iron gate was locked and the lights were out. In spite of my alerting the hostel that I’d be getting in late, the security guard did not have a room key for me. In fact, it wasn’t clear if he was even going to let me in at all. The trip would not have been totally in vain, though, as I was comprehensively enlightened en route. Ishmael told me how many family members he was responsible for, what each of their school fees were, what illnesses each individually suffered from, and how much the fare would be for him to return and pick me up in the early morning. Ishmael was a kind, honest, gentle-mannered, and solicitous young fellow. Even alone with him in a notoriously dangerous city in a corrupt country in the dark of night, I never felt threatened. He will become the prototype for the Kenyan workingman, in my experience. Most will display these qualities and most will ask me to sponsor them financially. Good to get this straight up front. It made it easier in the long run. Thank you, Ishmael.] Also, let them know if you are leaving before seven in the morning so that someone will be available to take your money. [The security guard rousted a sweet, little old lady in a sister/nun’s habit, who directed them to let me in, took my money, and gave me the room key. She informed me that everyone was already in bed and that I had missed dinner. I guessed as much, as the whole spooky, convent-like building was dark and the area deserted. I would be leaving the next morning before breakfast was served, as well. I asked where I might get something to eat and drink. I was dreaming of a cold beer, several, to be truthful, but could tell by the pious nature of the surroundings that that wasn’t going to happen. The sweet sister/nun just smiled and shrugged. Then I said, “But I will need a bottle of water, right?” I was granted another pleasant shrug. I hadn’t planned ahead for being this isolated and was not prepared for there to be not so much as a roadside stand nearby. I was not Africa-savvy yet. Even if there had been a 7-Eleven next door, it would’ve been long closed and locked up, a la nighttime-mode, in Kenya. The sister/nun said something to the guard and he took off on an old bicycle and returned twenty minutes later with a sealed bottle of filtered water. For all I know, he went all the way back to the airport to get it. There seemed to be nothing, open or otherwise, within miles of the Flora Hostel. Then the weary sister/nun gave me a tired smile, patted my back, and toddled away. I wandered off alone to find my room and eventually located it in a dimly lit, narrow, empty hallway. When I unlocked the heavy door, inside I found two beds with mosquito nets, a table, sink, tattered towel and slab of used soap, and one tiny, barred window. Too exhausted to sleep, I dropped my pack and set off to find a shower. I stumbled upon three dank, communal cement stalls with only cold water before I finally discovered somebody’s private bathroom with hot water. After a heavenly, guilt-free wash, which I had paid for, I tried to find my way back to my room and realized that I was lost. I wandered around for at least an hour until I chanced upon it. In all that time, I didn’t see one other human being. I also didn’t turn off my room light or sleep one wink in the six hours until it was time to meet Ishmael again. This part of the newsletter should read: Spring for the extra shillings and stay at the Nairobi Holiday Inn. Seriously.]
WHAT TO BRING:
Pack as though you are willing to leave everything behind as a donation! [Intriguing, but true. I don’t touch this.] Travel pillow, converter, money belt, head flashlight, handheld flashlight [for when the foolish head light becomes too annoying], adapter (Kenya 210-240V), eye mask, earplugs, batteries, battery charger, candles, matches, power bars, lanyard for room key, insect repellent (73% DEET), water bottle (boiled water always available at the mission), ziplock bags, a large supply of disinfectant wipes and baby wipes for cleaning hands and face without water, waterless disinfectant hand soap, [Nan’s letter just said Purell, but I want to be fair to all brands.] and clothing for one week. Pack half of what you imagine you might need. Consider cotton, wrinkle-resistant items, hat, sandals, socks, underwear, walking shoes, shower flip-flops, sweatshirt or sweater, knee-length or longer skirts, and modest blouses for women (NO tank tops), [Originally this said “ankle-length” skirts, but I saw several Kenyan women, including Nan, in knee-length.] slacks or long pants (Kenyan men seldom wear shorts), and T-shirts