BACK TO MOYALE: AKAM!

June 04, 2023

WHICH THEN OF THE BOUNTIES OF YOUR LORD WILL YOU DENY

Al Quran Majid: Surah Rahman. V.13

It's been long since I was beyond Archers Post along the scenic Great North Road (this is what I'd rather call it)....

Not much has changed since I worked on the Moyale Border Post design & construction supervision from 2014 to 2017.

The constant landscape and lifestyles of the peoples are a pleasant surprise and a welcome feeling of familiarity .... because most of Kenya is in a state of fast morphosis and most of it for the worse (a story for another day!).

Our journey from Nairobi started early in the morning even before the morning prayer which is normally at 515am.

Eng Farah, Imran and I are headed to Moyale to follow up on a prospective project in the region. Economic times are hard, and any and all jobs however small are worth following up.

And Eng Farah is a seasoned traveler, so we are in good company.

Dawn at the Mosque at Sagana

The plan is to pray our morning prayer at Sagana. There is a pleasant little mosque with good ablution and toilet facilities.

Indeed, we make it there in good time and achieve our mandatory morning prayer.

This is a welcome break from the 2 and half hour drive from Nairobi.

Tired limbs are stretched. The spiritual boost from the prayers has no accountable benefit - it is beyond counting .... my advice to all is never miss your early morning prayers or indeed any prayers.

At the mosque the usual Imam is busy imparting knowledge to 2 small boys who have squatted cross legged on the carpeted floor of the mosque as we go through our ritual prayers. Once the prayers are over, we change drivers and Imran takes over the steering wheel. I doze off as he meanders through the maze of diversions along the road which is recently under construction. The road indeed needs major repairs and expansion. It is one of the busier highways in Kenya. In no time the dull carriageway will reach Nyeri - bringing it much closer to Nairobi and reduce traveling times between the two cities.

Eng Farah is silent; probably deep in thought - as Imran goes through the motions of the road under construction punctuated by the ever present and unruly boda boda riders and equally lawless matatus. We really don't have a choice, we have to live with these evils as they are an integral part of our society's fabric.

After a while Eng Farah wakens with a jolt and announces - We shall have breakfast at Nanyuki. Both Imran and I are Ok with this. There is a pleasant Somali owned restaurant along the main road that passes through Nanyuki Town, and it has some good food. I am looking forward to this meal.

Imran makes good progress along the main highway, and we turn right towards Kiganjo and head to Naro Moru and eventually Nanyuki - a town which straddles the Equator.

A Modern Somali Owned Restaurant in Nanyuki

Presently we drive into Nanyuki. To our relief, the restaurant is right along the arterial main road. It has a safe parking area just close by. We park and climb to the first-floor restaurant which has curved gypsum ceilings with yellow snake lights. The verses of Quran welcome us into the restaurant - it is obviously an Islamic environment. The walk upstairs is a welcome relief from the cramped car environment since we left Sagana.

Breakfast in Nanyuki

The dark brown seats and the leg room match well with the interior decor. After washing our hands and faces we settle and order our meal. It is going to be fried liver with chapati and mahamri (swahili version of mandazi).

As is customary in our society, the food is served in one large aluminium plate, and everyone digs in using his right hand. Today it is chapati, fried liver with a small steel bowl of soup (to wet the mostly dry foods) and we add a few mahamri . All these foods are well prepared and delicacies to be enjoyed .. which we do with relish.

The breakfast is downed with a hot cup of tea - mine with cow milk and that of Mzee Farah with camel milk - which I have never tried, never had the tummy for it. I'm told a first time drinker of this will have a running stomach - so I wisely give it a wide berth!

After a relaxed and easy breakfast, we head out of Nanyuki to the frontier town of Isiolo - fondly referred to by many as Texas. For many years Isiolo was the end of Kenya - the Northern badlands started from just a kilometer out of Isiolo (a blog of this will come sooner - watch this space: but meanwhile read another blog on Isiolo at https://amalconsortium.blogspot.com/2021/06/texas-here-we-come-again.html)

We arrive safely at Isiolo and due to time constraints, we just make a small stopover for a bathroom break and straightaway head out to the Northern badlands; Archers Post, Sero Lipi, Merille and beyond ..... it is very easy to see why Isiolo was the last point within Kenya; if it wasn't for the fairly recently built tarmac road, one would be forgiven to think we have entered no-man's land. The climate here is hot and dry mostly and dominated by the scrubland that spreads all the North to Ethiopia - the Savannah, the Nyika.

The traffic is now markedly lower in volume.

The sun is almost overhead and bearing down upon the landscape and mercilessly giving us the same treatment even though we are but a dot of a form as part of the whole ....

Endemic birds swoop across the road as they go about their daily chores of feeding and mating and taking care of their nestlings ... oblivious of the new road which has rudely punctuated their once pristine environment. Indeed one cannot drive beyond Isiolo and fail to see dead birds on the tarmac - killed by speeding vehicles. This needs to be addressed in the same manner we see signposts of antelope crossing in various parts of the country such as Mara, Tsavo etc. But beyond this, drivers should also exercise care and not overspeed as this is the main cause of deaths to birds on our highways.

Years earlier when working on a project of water tanks in Marsabit, the vehicle we were travelling hit a large Tawny Eagle - a beautiful and massive bird. And the driver couldn't do anything to prevent the accident as the bird was swooping down to catch a prey on the tarmac and the car was speeding towards Nairobi - the two met. The result: a dead bird of Prey and a broken windshield.

We arrive safely in Merille but we don't stop. We only have to slow down at the Police Roadblock - with their peering eyes they try to seek out a misdemeanour which they unfortunately find none .... so no chance to extort anything from us, we are not much help to them. Once you cross the bridge over River Merille, there is a distinct change of culture. We leave Samburu country and enter Rendille country. A keen eye will notice the difference in dressing, character and also the languages are very different from one another.

The road now takes us past the massive pyramidal peak that announces the town of Laisamis. Atop this peak, a faithful Catholic has mounted a cross...as if to announce which religion rules here! If assistance to the poor and service to mankind is the criteria which determines rulership of a region - then yes the Catholic Church is indeed number one by far. This is inspite of the fact that Muslims were here much earlier - we shall analyse this more critically in a future article.

We soon reach Laisamis after crossing the dry riverbed of the seasonal Laisamis River. Like most roadside towns, Laisamis grew along the spine of the Great North Road. Over the years there has been sprawling growth on residential settlements in almost haphazard manner towards the East of the town. What once used to be a single street town now has many earthen streets meandering randomly towards the Desert that surrounds and dominates Laisamis. We slow down as we enter the town and the speed humps ensure we do exactly this.

The two distinct memories of Laisamis that have become etched onto my mind are the now defunct wind turbine of the Safaricom mast which emanated a constant hum of an aeroplane throughout the day and night and was sadly a constant disturbance to the humble rural folk and the second memory of Laisamis is not a very pleasant one - drunken local men and women who are sprawled in various stages of stupor at all times of day and night. This seems a common problem amongst many nomadic communities probably arising from poverty and also lack of any meaningful employment opportunities for the people. I have noticed this trait in many parts of the world including parts of West Africa, India and also rural China. A constant in Laisamis has been the shop of Mohamed Sambusa ... reputedly one of the pioneers of the Laisamis centre ... legend has it that he has passed on, the shop is closed but, in its heydays, this was a must stopover for all Muslim travelers - who have always been many.

From the savanah like scrub, the landscape now changes to semi-arid; actually almost arid desert. We drive on into the flat plains dotted by inselbergs to the West and endless desert to the East.

The Rendille herdsboys and colourfully-clad moran appear and disappear into the landscape like ghosts. It is by default, its a game I think - a trial to be indistinct yet present. The context requires them to be so - not visible (in case an enemy appears) and visible in case the need arises !!! Be unpredictable - if you are nomad you would understand - survival depends on this unpredictability - otherwise they perish -- there are enough enemies around.

In my travels around the world - the one trait all nomads have is to be unpredictable because being predictable is to lower your guard, it is an opportunity you give your enemy to decimate you -- its a survival tactic.

The constant tinkle of the bells hung around goats' necks pierce the earie hum of the wind which rises and falls without abetting. The dust is ever present. It is a reddish hue and it covers everything including the lava outcrops that dot the landscape.

Sometimes the wind brushing against the prickly shrubs creates a hum unique to wild parched lands such as this ... and if you love the wilderness, like I do - then this is really therapeutic

We cross several dry riverbeds. The riverbeds are dotted by heaps of sand dug up by the nomadic herdsmen looking for water for themselves and their livestock. Blessedly, water is not too far deep below and inevitably even during the driest of the droughts; God provides if only you know how to reach the provisions.

This in itself is a lesson in life not just for the hardy nomads but for all humanity including the lost urbanites in London or New York or the very many so-called metropolises in the developed world, which are truly more lost than the nomads of Laisamis and Northern Kenya and other remotes parts of the World who are many times over happier than the dwellers of the developed world!

Back to the desert, sadly, the rains have failed. Yes, again! This year like the past 5 years.

The soil is parched dry and devoid of moisture. It is unforgiving.

But there is God and He provides! The animals are not fat but neither skinny too. The animals sustain their owners and herders and the vice versa --- its a symbiotic relationship; one is dead without the other and each depends on the other.

TO BE CONTINUED!!!