To Hell

08/27/05

This is my nightmare come true. Its Saturday night, I\'m staring at a giant skinned cow\'s leg dangling in front of me. I am stranded in Kisii Town. I wouldn\'t wish this on anyone.

I left NREB at 11am, took at boda-boda to the Jinja taxi park. Then a Matatu to the Busia border crossing. I walked the half-mile or so to border, my visas were in order. I got to the other side and got on a bus to Kisumu. I had a long chat with an Indian guy named Vinod, who makes his living importing vaseline from India to Uganda, and exporting scrap metal from Mombassa to India (20 tons at a time, by boat.) Our conversation was a little strange, he kept saying things about how lazy and corrupt African people are, despite the fact that he was one of only two non-locals on a bus of 40. I tried to correct and enlighten where I could. He did however have some interesting things to say about religion, he\'s Hindu, but thinks all the worldÕs religions are essentially the same. He drew a lot of interesting parallels. We said goodbye at the Kisumu taxi park, and I found a Matatu going to Kanga (the Kisumu-Sirare line.) I paid 300/= and we were on our way. This leg was maybe only 2, 2.5 hours, but it felt like forever. The sun set through the ominous rain clouds as we sped along. I was (am) so tired from last night. I got into a conversation with the two guys next to me about what I was doing here, I told them working with SDA church to help set up programs for the orphan\'s education. They told me they were also SDA members and thanked me for coming. The fellow beside me was heading to Rongo. A guy who was maybe a little drunk called \"stage\" and got off the van. He tried to \'name his own price\' for the ride, which the conductor was none to happy about. The shouted back and forth at each other. Finally the drunk said, in English, \"well, that\'s all I can pay you\" and walked away. The conductor jumped out of the van, grabbed a machete, and went after the guy. He grabbed him and dragged him back to the van, forcefully extracted a bill from the guy\'s pocket, and then, get this, made change for him. I was speechless. As we chugged up the hill to Kisii, I asked the guy next to me, \"so we get to Kisii and then we turn around and go back to Sirare?\" He said \"this pilot doesn\'t go to Sirare, he\'ll sell us to another Matatu in Kisii.\" We rolled into town and the conductor started shouting \"Sirare\" at the few Matatus on the street. No response. The two guys I had been talking with both jumped out and disappeared into the night. I didnÕt understand what was happening. We pulled up next to another Matatu and stopped. It was not going to Sirare. The conductor came around and apologized, gave me back 100/=, and said that there was no one going to Sirare, and that I should wait till morning. (As I am writing this, a man sharpens a knife and begins carving the dangling cow leg.) He told me I could maybe catch a bus from the top of town. I threw my big bag on top of my head African style and began hiking up through town in the rain. I asked the few remaining Matatus, but none were going to Sirare. One guy tried to get me to board the \'Sunshine Express\' to Nairobi. I pushed on, through a mob of touts trying to get me to go anywhere but where I wanted. And then BOOM. My backpack unzipped and everything fell out onto the muddy street. Instantly, six guys swarmed in around me and began grabbing stuff. I dropped my other two bags and began grabbing them back. First my camera and film, then my journal and books, and then the odds and ends. A guy was picking up my DVX bag saying, \"let me assist you.\" I respectfully declined, and somehow managed to get all of my things back. Every eye in Kisii was on me. Guys were following me, asking for \"5 bob\" for helping me. The very last thing I was going to do was take out any money. (As I am writing this, the butcher has moved on to a saw and a mallet. I can smell the raw meat now. This is really disgusting and somehow enthralling.) I somehow made it up to the bus station (which is just a ticket window) and as I was waiting for the ticket man to help me, 3 guys surrounded me. The guy leading the pack looked like a thug, very suspicious, with a one hand in his pocket, holding something. One of the older guys behind him said \"show him what you\'ve got in your pocket.\" They were very close, and I was up against a wall. The ticket man still wasn\'t paying attention. I decided if it was a knife, I would fight, a gun I would run. He pulled it out. Slow motion. It was my sunscreen. The other old man shouted \"you are a thief!\" and the thug ran away. I don\'t know why he followed me in the first place. I thanked the old men. The ticket man told me there was one bus, coming at midnight, 100/=. It was 8:30pm then, its 9:30pm now. I looked for a special hire taxi, but there were none, and they would charge 400 or 500/= anyway. So I came into this restaurant and got some chicken and chapatti for two bucks. As I was finishing, some guy came and sat down next to me. He didn\'t speak much English, but managed to convey that I should buy him dinner. I declined and he sort of glared and smiled at the same time, and said that he\'ll be coming back. I keep waiting for him to charge in leading a mob of Kisii men. But I figure it\'s safer in here than back out on the street in the rain. And if the bus is scheduled for midnight, in African time that probably means I\'ll be here till morning. If I\'m lucky... This really isn\'t good. A TV in the corner plays WWF Smackdown, black and white, silent and grainy. The butcher still hacks away. I want to be anywhere but here.

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