First, last Thursday, lesson learned:
Never wait until the last day on your visa to renew it at a border crossing between two semi-corrupt countries. Or if you do, bring about twice what it should cost, and expect to pay "a little extra" to everyone you interact with.
Luckily I didn't (quite) find myself in this situation, since when I visited the Malaba border crossing I had one day left on my tourist visa. When the officials tried to charge me an exhorbitant amount to do something perfectly legal, I went back home and planned an early morning trip to the immigration office in Eldoret for a visa renewal.
From there the process went quite smoothly (smoothly = airport office, the only one listed on the website, was closed, so I called an official to meet me there; waited an hour; went with him to the in-town office, where I filled out a resident alien application, paid 2200 shillings, got fingerprinted, and waited another hour for passport photos; and finally I got my passport back as an official registered alien). Hooray!
From there I boarded a packed matatu (packed = I had someone else's suitcase jammed under my feet, and a chicken and young girl riding in my lap) for a 3 hour trip to Nakuru. The trip was extended a bit due to brief engine trouble, but I happily got to town around 3 pm in time to meet... Lullit.
Yes, Lullit, the frequent commentator on my blog, was in Kenya for a week, so we arranged to spend Friday night together in Nairobi. After she picked me up in a safari van in Nakuru, we drove to Naivasha to see the hippo-filled lake, and then continued to Nairobi. After a late dinner and plenty of catching up, we crashed in her hotel, where she woke me to say good-bye before flying to Kampala at 6 am on Saturday morning.
Saturday was ridiculous, and completely un-Bungoma-like. In a one sentence summary: Paul, Lukas, and I (later joined by Joana, the Red Cross employee stationed in Bungoma) drank beer at a cafe, went to a casino and came out a combined 2750 shillings ahead, had a nice dinner/drinks, and went to a nightclub which I only later learned catered to prostitutes.
Sunday meant nine hours in a matatu on the way back to Bungoma. This direction was far more comfortable; Paul & I bought out the back three seats so I upgraded by 1/2 seat from the way out to 1 1/2 seats on the way back.
Final update: My comment about the "big and stinky" pigs came at an opportune time. The group sent the pigs to the butcher on Thursday and had one for dinner on Friday night. I was actually pretty disappointed to miss out... But my sadness at missing the meal was more than canceled by my relief of no longer living downwind.
Sign warning about the dangerous hippos on Lake Naivasha (which we did not exactly heed, as we became worryingly close to a mother/baby pair)
Lake Naivasha
View on the Nairobi-Bungoma matatu ride. In addition to beautiful scenery like this lake view, Paul & I saw zebras, impalas, warthogs... Like a discount safari with a dual purpose!
Overlooking her maize fields
Field officer Henry, surveying rows of recently planted passion fruit
A little mtoto (child) in front of the hut, ready to feed the cattle
Henry noticed I liked taking pictures of homes, and asked if ours looked different in the US. Pretty broad question, so I answered simply, "Yes." He replied, "Oh - Are your roofs made of aluminum?" Pretty straightforward question with a vastly complicated response.
