Nairobi to Rusinga

Oh, the romance of the road - wait, isn't it supposed to be "the romance of the rails"? Granted, travelling by bus isn't nearly as inspiring as by rail. There's nothing more soothing than the steady chug of the train - but there was something to be said for a front row seat on the overnight bus from out of Nairobi, where I sat back and watched the moonlit Kenyan scenery pass me by. A bit dramatic? Perhaps. But that scenery was the only thing distracting me from my rather obese neighbour's invasion of my personal space, and the fact that the 6 hour journey to Homa Bay actually took 10. As Peter Moore, my favourite travel author warned me, the African timetable truly is a work of fiction.

Getting to Homa Bay was only step one. From there, I took a matatu to Mbita. 20 km and 3 AND A HALF HOURS LATER I arrived in Mbita, where I waited for

Ezekiel, the man who runs the Friends of Rusinga Group. We hopped on a motorbike and headed to the Kaswanga village on Rusinga Island. That was quite the journey.

So I've been in the fishing village of Kaswanga since Tuesday. The scenery is wonderful - there are trees everywhere, I'm within a five minute walk from the beach, and the sunsets are breathtaking. And I finally found the village bathing spot! I can't tell you how badly I needed that beach bath this morning! But to be honest, culture shock doesn't begin to describe how I feel. I had heard this place was rustic and isolated, but I hadn't expected

it to be quite so... well... rustic and isolated. It will take me a while to get used to my mud hut, as well as having to hire a motorbike to get to Mbita everytime I need electricity. But Ezekiel, his wife Lydia and their family are incredibly hospitable, and the people of Kaswanga are very friendly (even if my grasp of the Dholuo language is minimal).

So for those of you who were worried about my first long distance journey across Kenya, I am safe. Thanks Kirsten and Phil, for making sure I departed from the Akamba bus station safely. Paul and his brother took very good care of me, and I got two very enthusiastic double-hand waves as I drove away from the station! Thanks again for your hospitality, and thanks Mags and Josie for taking the blame (on a few occasions) for my smelly feet, and for reminding me that you're never too old to sit in the back of the family station wagon, wedged between two kiddy seats singing "John Jacob Jingle Heimer Schmidt." Good times!