We began our trip later than ever before… our first flight
left Rochester at 1pm on Saturday. The
bad news was that we had to fly west before we could fly east. The flight to Detroit was uneventful, though,
and the same could be said for the flight to Amsterdam. That’s where things got interesting. There was a storm coming in and it was
supposed to drop a lot of snow with accompanying high winds. Not a great combination when you’re spending
the better part of 24 hours on planes. It
was overcast when we landed, but by the time we took off, the snow was coming
down harder than I’d preferred.
Sam was meeting us in Nairobi, but she was coming from
Zurick. Oh, this might be good time for
introductions. There are 5 of us
traveling to Kenya on this trip… my wife Andrea and our youngest daughter
Karen, along Sam (we’ve known her and her family for years) and Sergio (a
friend from our church in Fairport). We
met Sam and her parents when she and Karen were playing Little League together. We’ve known Sergio for a much shorter
time. He’s our newest priest at the
Church of the Assumption. It’s also
important to note that he’s Columbian because I’m sure I’ll be referencing that
during the trip. In case you’re
wondering, I’ll be refraining from calling him “Father Sergio” just to save
time – no disrespect. Neither have ever
been to Kenya before, but they’re both incredibly excited about this trip. It’s also important to note that Sergio is
traveling on the same flights as my family… Sam is getting there by another
route. She spent her final college
semester studying abroad in Italy and is obviously no stranger to travel. That does not, however, prevent us from worrying
about our reunion when we land in Kenya.
She’s arriving… no, I should say, “she’s scheduled to arrive” 20 minutes
before us, so the plan is to meet her inside the airport. I sent her a picture of our friend Isaac, and
I sent Isaac of picture of Sam. That’s
just in case our plan goes awry. True to
form, it does. Now, back to the airport.
While we sat on the plane in Amsterdam, we checked the
status of her flight from Zurich. The
storm that had begun to cancel flights at Schlipol Airport may also be
effecting travel through Zurich.
Although she was leaving a little later than scheduled, she was arriving
earlier… MUCH earlier. Now she was going
to be there almost an hour before us. I
remember thinking, “Wow, it’s a good thing that we exchanged pictures with
Isaac.” With no way to reach Sam, I kept
Isaac updated with both sets of travel plans.
As I said before, we were leaving Schlipol late, so the gap between
Sam’s arrival and ours continued to widen.
Ultimately, we landed around 11:30pm.
That’s almost 2 ½ hours after Sam!
Well, at least that’s what we thought as we disembarked.
We got through immigration quickly and headed for the
baggage claim. We spotted Isaac waving
feverishly on the other side of the windows that occupied one of the walls of
the baggage claim/customs area. Andrea
struck up a conversation with one of the airport officials who informed us that
Sam’s plane did not arrive ahead of schedule at 9:09pm, rather, it was still in
the air and due to arrive at 1:30am.
Yay, we got here before her! Wait
a minute, did he say, “1:30am?” Hold the
“Yays.”
We met Isaac outside after sneaking through customs without
having to pay any tax on the donated goods we were bringing in. I shouldn’t really use the term “sneak,”
because I had declared the items we were traveling with. Pillowcase dresses and t-shirt dresses for
girls made up the bulk of the items.
Then there were gifts for Isaac’s family and some other people we’ll see
during the trip. The tricky part with
the dresses is that the bulk of the materials necessary for those items were
donated. Andrea organized a group of
“sewers” comprised of friends eager to help us, and our friends on the other
side of the globe. I’m looking forward
to showing you some of these dresses worn by the young girls who’ll be
receiving them. When you see them, you
wouldn’t guess they were made from pillow cases and extra material. Now, back to the “sneaking” part at
customs. They’re were four of us with 7
bags. The six bags that Andrea, Karen
and I brought totaled 300 pounds, split evenly between our things and
donations. I learned during our last
trip that you have to declare donated goods as well, and the dollar figure
assigned is based on the fair market value of the item. I was going on the assumption that “fair
market” was a relative term, and it was based on a relative from the 19th
century. The dresses were worth $1
(then), or that’s what I told myself and I was prepared to sell that story to
customs – I’ll leave out the 19th century relative reference. So here we were, schlepping these enormous
suitcases toward the first agent that collected the paperwork. She was the gatekeeper. She saw the items and their values that were
written at the bottom of the single sheet of paper, and without saying much,
she directed us to the right where fellow travelers had their bags being
inspected by customs officers. When I
say “inspected,” I mean they were opened up on tables and completely emptied,
then repacked. Yikes. This was not going to end well. I turned around to see Andrea, Karen and
Sergio looking at me as I signaled the direction we were given. Thankfully, Andrea was in back. She can start a conversation with anyone, and
the gatekeeper was no exception. While I
nervously waited for my turn with the customs agents (by the way, we were
next), Andrea kept looking back and the throngs of people behind us. The area was packed and the process was going
very slowly. “I’m with him, no, we’re
with him,” was the last thing she had to say.
The gatekeeper looked us, looked at the ticket, looked at the bags and
said, “Just go.” One wave of her hand
was enough for her. “Adam,” she said
over the noise of the crowd, “She told us to just go through.” I don’t believe I exhaled until all 3 of our
trolleys had passed the inspectors with interruption, but once outside, I let
out a sigh. My lungs were already empty
as Isaac gave me a bear hug – a behavior repeated 3 times. Isaac’s friend Onesmus was him. We were going to be using his vehicle, so he
cam along for the ride. We briefly spoke
about Sam’s flght as we waited for Onesmus to bring the van around.
In Kenya, one of the more common modes of travel is by
matatu. A matatu is a mini van that has
seats for about 12 but carries 22. It’s
literally a sardine can; As Onesmus came
into view, he was driving a matatu. The
good news was that it was a private vehicle which meant that it wouldn’t be
packed in like sardines. The interior
was a little different, too. Behind the
driver and front row passenger were two bucket seats, with another set of
bucket seats behind that. The last row
was a bench seat, suitable for napping.
The quick math I did in my head made me assume that some of the bags
would be tied to the roof. This sounds
crazy, but in Kenya it’s commonplace.
Every vehicle like this has thick rope, and Kenyan’s can pack a vehicle
like nobody I’ve ever seen. Necessity is
the mother of invention. Like I said,
every matatu has rope. I should have
said, “every other vehicle.” No worries… please revert back to the sardine
analogy. Four passengers (eventually
there will be 5), plus Isaac and Onesmus, plus seven 50lb bags = 13. Things were going to be tight, but we’d make
it work. Now, we wait for Sam.
We had enough time that we were able to drive to Karen (the
place, not the daughter) and drop off our bags and check into our rooms. Karen was rooming with Sam, and true to form,
she picked the larger of the two beds.
We didn’t waste time getting situated. Instead, we headed downstairs for
some dinner before heading back to the airport.
Yes, dinner, and yes, it was past midnight. Isaac called ahead (way ahead) and the food
was ready when we sat down. Goat, chips,
tomatoes & onions… all of it was delicious.
Despite the time, we made quick work of it and headed back to the
airport at 12:30am.
When awaiting arriving passengers, you can’t wait inside
anywhere. When you pass through customs,
you are immediately outside where throngs of people are waiting. Some are holding signs, others are trying to
get you to get into their taxi/matatu, still others are standing their blankly,
waiting for a familiar face to walk through the doors into the cool night
air. After packing the vehicle, we
became a part of the latter. Lufthansa
arrives at a different terminal then KLM, so Onesmus drove us there. I was a bit uneasy as we turned right,
because I was so used to turning left.
Regardless, we went with the flow.
We got out with Isaac and became part of the masses. The terminal was above ground level, so we
had to wait below. I could barely see
over the wall throught he doors, and that didn’t help with anyone’s
anxiety. There was a coffee shop next to
the exit doors, so we wandered up the ramp and grabbed a seat outside. As you’d expect, time passed very
slowly. So slowly that Isaac and I left
Andrea and Karen in the coffee shop to check the other termainal to make sure
she wasn’t waiting over there. Nope, we
had the right one. It was closer to 2:30
when we finally saw her smiling face emerge from behind the sliding doors. Another heavy sigh of relief. Sam told us stories of her 4 hour delay in
Zurich. Yes, it was the same storm that
slowed us down. Andrea looked at me with
same “everything’s okay now” look that I had.
Sleep was within sight, now, and everyone was looking forward to
it. Andrea and I were across the hall from
the girls, and we listened to them talking and laughing as we fell asleep. It was a little after 3 when our eyes closed.
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| I took this picture in the Detroit Airport. I have to admit, I'm not sure if I should be horrified or impressed. It takes some pretty bi cajones to walk around in an outfit like this, let alone walk around in an airport. What designer thought this was a good idea? |
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| Karen fell asleep and served as a desk. |
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