The Busia border crossing back into Kenya was bustling and much like before a throng of overly keen young guys threw themselves in front of the bikes desperate to acquire ‘any’ business we might offer them. With the bikes parked up in front of the shabby looking customs building we resisted the persistent tugs at our jackets and politely declined to answer the cries of “hey MZUNGO…MZUNGO” (which means, white guy, white guy). We’d done this enough times not to have to hand over the mandatory fee of $5 for ‘border assistance'. Whilst Lisa kept an eye on the bikes I made good progress clearing the departure formalities from Uganda and getting ourselves back into Kenya. The police record book was signed 3 times in 3 separate huts and passports were checked and stamped, all we now needed was our carnets stamped and we could continue. 2 ½ hours later in the baking sun and we were still there. The reason…? Bike problems…nope, civil unrest…nope, corrupt officials…nope, outbreak of war…nope. The customs guy, responsible for stamping the import/export paperwork had simply taken a long lunch, a 2 ½ hour lunch. So not only were we waiting but so was everyone else, a dozen locals, 20 plus commercial lorry drivers, an overland truck to mention just a few. Tensions were rising as people became frustrated. Eventually the customs guy made his return with a slow casual stride walking back to the border and over to his office, which was now swarming,. The waving and shouting began. He didn’t blink an eye. By some minor miracle I managed to push past several people and sat myself in his office to his obvious surprise, told him some bullshit about ‘my wife is very ill’ and asked him to complete my carnets ahead of the now seething group pushing and shoving outside his barred window. To my surprise he did. What a relief, now the border gate could be opened and we could get back on the road. What a palaver!

We were heading back to Raj’s campsite. The roads around Mumias degenerated as we began the slow process of skirting the huge potholes that pot mark the road. As we picked our careful route the skies darkened ominously. We’d left the potholes behind us but could see the torrent of rain to come. We were going to get soaked. By the time we eventually arrived at Raj’s we were sodden and we still had to negotiate the mud pit track down to the site. The cold pool of water that had gathered in our crotches and the cold water logged boots weren’t helping.

We finished off our day trying to dry out in front of the roaring campfire and ended up eating with Raj up at his house…much appreciated.

08-08-2004

A slightly surreal day…

The heavy rain continued last night and by morning things were looking marshy but by 11am the Sun was beginning to win its battle with the cloud base and a few rays were getting through. With our T-shirts having had a quick rinse maybe we had time to hang them up before the next deluge descended?

With my back to the line I heard Lisa ‘squeal. “Simon, Simon, they’re horrible and they’re biting me, come and hang the T-shirts up”. Unusually ‘girlie’ for Lisa. “C’mon they're only bloody ants” I shouted in a ‘me Tarzan you Jane’ kind of way, and so grabbing the washing off Lisa I strolled over to the line, ignoring the ants as insignificant and proceeded to hang up our kit. Seconds later and Lisa practically wetting herself with laughter as I repeat almost word for word her “shit, shit, they're biting get them off get them off” comment, and then unceremoniously and in a very Skippy bouncy big girls blouse way jump and prance back over to Lisa and the tent. A few moments later and with her help we’re pulling Large Safari (army) ants from my skin. These little bastards have got huge mandibles and they’d dug in. In-between my toes, from my ankle, even several hanging from the skin on my elbows and wow they can bite. Naturally it will take some time to live this down. In our defence and now knowing a little more about these ants I can tell you they're nasty. These things have been known to devour whole mid size mammals and even kill small children. Scary.

The rest of the day was a slightly calmer affair. Raj had invited us to his house for a day of pizza and football and so by 2pm we were in his kitchen with his staff having prepared the dough bases and we were pilling toppings high ready to go into the oven. With Arsenal V Man U on the TV it was all very civilised.

We left Raj’s and headed down to Rangi’s in Nairobi via the Eldarma ravine, again a glorious ride with great tarmac and sweeping bends. The views are nothing short of breathtaking. Our ride to Ngong was. one to remember

For completely the opposite reason our ride from Nakuru to Nairobi was also memorable. Absolutely bloody crap! What a bloody awful road. Potholes, tarmac corrugation and dips and rises that could easily have you off. The fact that it’s a fast road doesn’t help. By the time we reached Nairobi we weren’t in the best of moods. The atrocious Nairobi traffic didn’t help. With the help of the GPS we made it back to Rangi’s, but not before almost being knocked off 4-5 times and having kicked (with our metal toe capped boots) several cars who were careering to wards us seemingly oblivious.

We arrived at Rangi’s at around 4pm.