DIT GALGALO
Dit Galgalo
6Nov2017
There is no path to happiness. Happiness is the path. Buddha
When you travel North of Kenya you learn one thing - well not quite one - you learn many things - but one of things you learn is that Somalis and Boranas are two very distinct tribes - they don't even share a language - and yes there isnt much love lost between them…..because of one Senior Chief Wabera and many other reasons too.
Does that ring a bell? Yes Wabera Street is named after him.
But that is a story for another day.
My first trip to the North was to Marsabit. The year - 2006 or thereabouts.
The road from Nairobi to Isiolo was fully tarmaced … but from Isiolo to well yes upwards ….. Murram.
Murram with a variety of dust colours.
From Isiolo to Archers Post the dust is whitish greyish.
From Archers going North it becomes a little more brown and as you approach Marsabit it become reddish …. There is a reason I’m telling you this.
By the time you drove from Isiolo to Marsabit - you got covered by layers of that dust on all parts of your body including nostrils and ears.
But it wasn't an instant dust bath - the dust bath was a ritual bumpy ride ranging anywhere between 8 to 12 or even hours. Depending on the mode of travel.
So the first day to Marsabit - that was indeed adventure.
Salim the contractor told me we would be leaving at 2pm after jumaa prayers from Eastleigh.
The ever-punctual me was there right on time.
And yes our mode of transport was also there waiting for us. A ten tonne fuel tanker. Full of fuel. With the cabin designed to accommodate only two human beings ….. First shock upon me.
Salim came at around 230pm….and announced that the driver is not far; we shall be on our way anytime. Indeed!
The driver came at around 330pm without any greeting or much ado or apology for any delay (what delay?) - he got into the cabin and cranked the engine to life. Perfect truck …. Started up on the shortest crank.
Salim hurriedly got into the middle part of the cabin and urged me in next to the co driver's window - time: 4pm. I said phew - finally on the way - I was anxious it was getting evening, I had no idea where we would sleep (if we would at all); I’d never been beyond Nanyuki.
Hey hold on. The driver needs his fuel - miraa. So not so fast …. We still had to pass through Eastleigh to get his supply of khat. Many phone calls and conversations later - he had his miraa. Time: 630pm
Finally around 7pm (remember we were to leave at 230pm, hehe - and the way I’m such a stickler for time) - we leave Nbi via the Thika Highway. I maintain my silence- its years since I last travelled in a truck. The last time was when I finished A-Levels many years ago with Dadobhai ….. (a story for another day, I promise).
The good thing about the truck cabin is that its roomy - so we were comfy enough.
Just as we got to Thika - the driver made frantic calls; obviously to a wife or girlfriend - who seemed to want some money for a child…...by now I was getting used to the driver. Lesson no. 1 you do not worry about time when travelling in a truck. Lesson no. 2; you the passengers are insignificant, your comfort or well being is irrelevant. You are largely invisible. You are there only to laugh at the drivers jokes and answer his questions or give rejoinders to his stories. Your stories are not welcome. You are not to crack any jokes; primarily because your jokes are not funny but more importantly you are a passenger and hence not capable of saying any jokes or stories of substance.
So i think I’m pretty adept at travelling and before reaching Thika I had already learnt all the unsaid and unwritten ground rules. So I largely maintained my silence and tried to be as invisible as possible.
So we stopped on the highway just outside Thika. I stretched my legs as the driver sorted out his matrimonial life. Thankfully this transaction did not last more than 10 minutes. By now it was around 830pm and I was too tired to notice the journey until we got to Isiolo around 11pm.
My first time there - hurray.
Isiolo is warm - even at night. Another name for Isiolo is Texas - I don't know why but its a well loved name.
Isiolo never sleeps. There are more miraa and drug addicts in Isiolo per capita than any other town in Kenya - probably Africa.
Why? Because its right next to Meru (37km) - the heart of miraa growing area of Kenya. And secondly Isiolo is a cauldron of tribes - Meru, Borana, Samburu, Kikuyu, Turkana, Somalis and many other smaller tribes. And thirdly, Isiolo is next to various army barracks and training grounds including one for the British Army (BATUK). So drugs are in plentiful, miraa is readily available anytime of the day or night and with these come the twilight girls of all tribes.
OK so when we got to Isiolo - the driver stopped at the SHELL petrol station and jumped out of the cabin. I stepped down too to stretch my tired limbs. Salim followed suit. I was hungry and tired. But this was not on anyone else’s mind.
My first impression of Isiolo was a vibrant small town similar to Mtito Andei in a way.
A transit town. The last bastion before you go to the Wild North. Most people from the North refer to Kenya as starting from Isiolo.
The people are evenly distributed between Christian and Muslim - almost 50-50.
The predominant tribes are Borana, Meru, Rendille, Kikuyu, Somali, Turkana & Samburu. So its quite a cauldron of cultures.
Salim bought a soda and gave me. That was a welcome injection of sugar. I thought we would get dinner ahead so I held my horses with the soda silencing the grumbling tummy.
The driver came back in 10 minutes with a fridge of miraa. A fridge of miraa is a black plastic bag containing a kilo of miraa. He jumped in and started off - to the North.
This is where the tarmac road ended and dusty road started. It was too dark for me to notice the dust enveloping our entire bodies but the rough road was enough to keep me in reality check.
We drove on - dutifully listening to the driver’s stories and jokes.
The North is addictive. It has a catching effect upon you. There is a lure - there is no gold rush up there but there is a lure that urges you to want to go there again and again. Our own Wild North.
The darkness was enveloping. The stars were brighter than in towns due to the lack of urban lights. The Milky Way is very clear.
Distant and nearby hills appeared in silhouettes and disappeared as mysteriously as they had appeared.
The air was warm and the freshness was tingling. A welcome departure from the Nairobi smog.
Those of us that didn't partake in miraa kept a silent suffering posture. The driver got merrier as he chewed away at his kilo…..his stories becoming more and more imaginative.
After a grueling 3 and half hours we reached Merile. Halfway between Marsabit & Isiolo.
The driver promptly stopped the lorry and jumped out.
Salim ushered me out too. I was too tired to ask any questions.
Salim announced that we would sleep here till morning then proceed on to Marsabit.
Now Merille in 2006 was a bunch of tin shops on either side of the dirt road - this was obviously a stopover for many trucks that were parked in disorderly fashion just off the main track.
Salim took me to the Yassin Hotel. The hotel comprised of a metal roof shed with no doors or windows just a large space with beds arranged like in a dormitory. The beds were spaced approximately 3m apart and were all well made with a pillow and bed sheet. Several of these beds were occupied with men sleeping.
Salim told to pick a bed and sleep. Simple! No booking. No loo. No formalities. Just pick an empty bed and sleep.
The dream of dinner was quickly forgotten. Forgotten more due to the long trek, the tired joints, the dust in the ears, nostrils, clothes and every other part of the body.
My body was too tired to ask anything or complain. I obliged. Took off my sandals and threw myself on the stark bed. The bed had a simple bedsheet and a very soft pillow (I like my pillows hard) and another bedsheet to cover. There was no need for a blanket - it was warm. And thankfully there were no mosquitoes - then (now I am sure they have arrived with the much larger population and poor environment management).
It was a restless sleep but I did snatch a number of winks. The rumble
of the rough road from Isiolo was still playing itself in my head as though in
rewind fashion like a rewound tape. I was in no mood to think so I slept.
Allahu Akbar Allahu Akbar ….. - it sounded distant. Was it a dream or was it the real adhan in Merille? Yes indeed. Merille had a mosque.
It didn't matter, I had hardly slept. Probably two hours or slightly more than that.
Shortly then the cranking of engines of trucks. One after another.
It seemed as though all trucks in Merille were being started on at the same time.
There was activity in the dorm I slept in. I looked towards the bed Salim slept on. He was awake sitted on his bed.
So it wasn't a dream. It was around 5am and everyone and all machines were coming to life.
I got up.
Salim directed to me to a loo at a corner of the outside yard.
It was a pit latrine. No surprises there.
It didnt matter - I didnt have a choice. There was water in bucket. It was not too clean, seemed muddy. But that too didnt matter - I wasnt going to drink it.
I hadnt had dinner and was hoping for some breakfast.
Salim announced that there would no tea. There is no tea leaves nor cow milk in Merille. But there is liver. Do you fancy fried liver for breakfast?
The question was like a stab in my empty tummy.
My hunger disappeared. Hunger or no hunger - I didnt fancy fried liver in a remote town - for breakfast.
By now the driver of our truck was revving the engine of the truck as if to urge us to get on so we move.
We did exactly that.
Marsabit was at least another 4 to 6 hours away…..on a murram and dusty road. Red dust.
The only consolation was the beautiful landscape….the North of Kenya has some of the most scenic landscapes in the country.
So we moved on through the desert surrounding Laisamis. Red dust and more red dust.
By 10am we were at Loglogo. The foothills of the highlands on top of which is our goal - Marsabit.
These are volcanic hills formed around the same time as the Great Rift Valley.
And Marsabit is at almost the top of these hills at an approximate altitude of 5700ft above sea level.
So from the foot of the hills in the desert at Logologo we climbed through the hills into sleepy Marsabit town.
And as every morning - the town was shrouded in mist.
Men, women and children were all clad in warm clothes.
Finally, we reached our destination. Tired and dusty.
Salim took me to Saku Guest House and showed me to my room. It was a small cramped & dingy little room. But that didnt matter; all I wanted was a warm blanket and bed ….
It was around 1030am. I dropped onto the bed in a sack and slept almost immediately.
I awoke up at around 230pm very hungry and dusty but much refreshed.
Went straight to the dining room and ordered a hearty breakfast…which came fast enough and I gobbled it.
7Nov2017
Yup that was my first visit to Marsabit.
And fate had other ideas about me and Marsabit ……
I did complete my assignment in Marsabit …. It was the completion of a SACCO building that had been abandoned by its first Architect.
Those days the journeys to and from Marsabit were an adventure unto themselves. I traveled in trucks full of cows or goats. Occasionally I would be dropped in Isiolo by one of Baslum’s sons from there I would take public means to Nairobi.
However, towards the end of the project I struck a deal with Abdulhakim to be picked and dropped at Isiolo … so I would drive to Isiolo in my ever reliable Subaru. Park it a Bomen Hotel and travel with Baslum guys to and from Marsabit.
Things were to improve for me and the North eventually … I landed a very exciting job to do the OSBP at Moyale.
And that's when I first encountered Dit Galgalo!
Mt Ololokwe and the New Tarmac Road to the North (photo: ALK)
Akam! Hi!
25Nov2017
People in the North are largely Borana. There are other significant tribes too such as Gabra, Rendille, Burji, Garre and the Samburu.
And as you get closer to Ethiopia then you will encounter Ethiopian tribes - the dominant ones being the Oromo.
The lingua franka here is Borana - everyone speaks it. In fact they prefer to talk this instead of Swahili or English or any other language. This impressed me.
So what took me beyond Marsabit?
The OSBP project. The One Stop Border Post Project.
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