First lemme state categorically that this aint my work i got it from a friend called Djo Thefu pale mukuru kwa zukabaga … its a fine read i had to share it pia you enjoy
She parks her motorcycle and removes her helmet, revealing short hair and a wide grin - the type only motorcyclists have after a death defying ride. After a quick run together - She, another rider called Allen, and I - from Nyeri to Karatina, I perfectly understand what she means when she reaches out her hand to greet me and says “Sorry, I’m a bit of a crazy one!”
Carol has the air of an I-don’t-give-a-rat’s-ass woman, the type that does not obsess over chipped nails or fawn over glossy fashion magazines. It’s the first time I’m meeting her. We’ve been friends for a while on Facebook and from her posts I could tell she is a hard rider. Now I know from experience.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Allow me to start from the beginning…
It’s Saturday at 6.30am. I hit the start switch on my bike and I’m ready to roll on to Mount Kenya region. I’m supposed to be in Embu for a work function at 11am, but I’m taking the long way there. The plan is to get to Nyeri at 9am through back roads, then ride on to Embu. I’m hoping to have breakfast in Nyeri with a lady called Harmony, a rider too. She is doing some outriding work, escorting a campaign entourage. That breakfast did not happen, thanks to the befuddling rat’s maze that is Othaya area. When I finally emerged out of Othaya, I felt like the intelligent rat that made it out of the researcher’s maze… I will explain in a short while.
After Thika, I have to make a choice on which route to use to get to Nyeri. And this is where my problems begin. See, I’m already familiar with the main route through Makuyu, Makutano and Karatina. I want roads I have not used often before. Anyway, I miss the road I intend to take and end up at Murang’a. I actually don’t realise I’m on the road to Murang’a until I get to the town, and it hits me - wait a minute, I have been here before! Some time back I had come here to attend the funeral of a friend’s child.
After a short while I find myself at Kangema. The road there looks completely unfamiliar, but as soon as I reach Kangema town I realise - wait a minute, I have been here before! Some time back I had come here to attend the funeral of a friend’s parent.
No, I do not work in life insurance.
After Kangema, I get into totally unfamiliar territory. If you look at Google maps, the road from Kangema to Othaya seems pretty straightforward. Don’t be fooled, homie!
Some minutes later I begin to get this strange feeling that I might be heading the wrong way. I make a U-turn and go back to the nearest centre, where I ask a bodaboda guy for directions to Othaya. He turns and looks at his fellow rider and asks him “Which road should we show him?”
How many freaking roads to Othaya are there?!
They have a quick conference in Kikuyu language, which I can barely understand, and seem to reach a consensus that I should go back where I came from and continue that way. This means I go back to where I have come back from before I came back. Get it? No? Welcome to Othaya!
I hit some awesome roads after that, the famous “nyokanyoka”. I’m a bit clumsy at the corners, my brain seems to not be fully awake. It’s barely 8.30am.
I take a wrong turn somewhere and end up at Chinga Dam. After riding for a while my geographical instincts tell me that something is not right. It’s morning, I’m supposed to be heading north, but the sun is behind me a lot, so it looks like I’m heading west. I decide I should stop somewhere and ask for directions. At some point the road climbs up a hill and at the top I’m presented with this awesome view of Mount Kenya. I stop to soak in the awesomeness and take photos.
Awesome Mount Kenya!
Zoomed in.
A small boy stops to admire me. Okay… To admire my bike.
Sigh!
I ask him if this is the road to Othaya. He laughs.
“You have to go back and go the other way!” he says. I turn the bike around and start making my way back towards Chinga dam. There was a point at which the road forked and I’m pretty sure that is where I took the wrong way. He laughed at me!
Sigh!
After some time I’m pretty sure I’m on the right road. For a short while, anyway. The road suddenly becomes really curvy with a lot of loose murram. At some point it has barriers on the sides. I again get the feeling that I’m going the wrong way. It looks like a major road so I’m pretty sure I will get to a town or something nearby where I can stop and ask for directions.
What town? This, what looks like a major road, comes to an abrupt end at a downhill slope, without any warning. That’s it, end of the road. What follows is a small path through a gap in a barbed wire fence, going down into some bushes beyond. I stop and take a moment to savour this bizarre coup de graĉe.
I found this dead end on google maps. Can’t make this stuff up!
I look behind me. A group of about three bodaboda guys who were chatting loudly have gone quiet and are looking at me, the way you would go quiet and look at giraffe who has got his neck stuck up in the branches of an acacia. I ride back to them and have a chat with them, seeking to find exactly what the hell is happening to my neck! Another high level Kikuyu conference, and this time there seems to be no consensus. One thinks I should go on with the path and I will hit another road after about two kilometres. The other thinks it will be easier to go and find another junction back where I just came from. There is absolutely no way I’m descending into the depths of those bushes!
Now, if you come from Othaya, you may not understand the immensity of this predicament I am in. See, where I come from, we don’t have good roads going everywhere. Othaya has a highway-grade tarmacked road leading to every granary and to every whiff of a chicken coop. Things are different where I come from: If you are going from one town to another, you just stick to the main road and you will get there. We don’t have main roads everywhere. And I grew up knowing that whenever you are on a nice tarmacked road, you are not lost. And this is why Othaya is a rat’s maze to me!
Almost all these roads, plus many others that I swear are missing on this map, are tarmacked!
A few kilometres back, I find a road branching to the left. It’s a steep concrete road. I’d like to think tarmac became too pedestrian and someone decided, naah I will be different, I will slap concrete on this one! There is a broken down car and two men are fixing a tyre. I ask one of them if this concrete road leads to Othaya. He says yes.
“Just keep turning right, you will get to Othaya,” he says, motioning with his right hand.
I rev the throttle and get ready to descend. The man shouts at me to wait. He comes up to me…
“Keep turning right, but when you get to a place with a bump, turn LEFT after the bump!”
Othaya!
I turn LEFT after the bump, and about a kilometre later, my eyesight is bestowed with the awesomeness of Mount Kenya, right in front of me! It’s a clear morning and I can see the peaks. I stop to take photos.
Facing Mount Kenya: I’m informed that I took this photo while standing right opposite Former President Kibaki’s home. Is this true?
Close up
Oh, you are wondering why I’m taking photos of Mount Kenya AGAIN? See I was wrong before. That ant hill I photographed earlier was not Mount Kenya! It was the peak of the Aberdare Range!!
Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the most confused tourist in the world.
Finally I get to Othaya town! Grinning in my helmet, knowing that I’m the most intelligent rat in the lab. I go past Othaya town and start to find my way to Nyeri. My plan to get to Nyeri by 9am is dead. It’s now 9.45. I reach a T junction and turn left - but good sense tells me to stop. Some women nearby are waiting for a matatu. I ask them which is the way to Nyeri… You guessed it. I have to turn around!
I call Harmony and tell her how I just made it alive out of the belly of the fish - I mean - out of Othaya. She has no time for my triumphant narrative. I’m late, the truck she is escorting is about to leave.
“Hurry up or we won’t meet! I’m just about to start work” she tells me.
I hurry up, and meet her. She is already dressed up in her riding suit and seated on her bike. The yellow truck is parked across the road, loud music blaring from speakers on it. On board are some young guys who still have flexible bones rhythmically flexing the said bones plus everything else attached to them.
Harmony hugs me. I again try to give her the exultant tale of my neck in the acacia, but she interrupts…
“My truck is leaving right now! Will you come with us?”
“Is this Carol’s bike?” I ask. There is a Honda cruiser parked there and another smaller bike. I know that cruiser, it looks like Carol’s, a Facebook lady rider friend.
“Yes, that’s Carol’s,” says Harmony.
“Where is she? I have always really wanted to meet her…”
“I don’t know. They are escorting a different truck. Let’s go!”
The truck she is escorting is heading towards Othaya. It stops somewhere on the way to wait for someone. I get a chance to have a little chat with Harmony, and decide it best to head on to Embu.
Hug. Bye. But not before some photos:
Dude in foreground is completely in love.
She is in charge!
Just a few Kilometres out of Nyeri I see two bikes stopped on the side of the road. It’s Carol and Allen. I stop by them. I ask where they are headed, and they say Karatina.
“Cool!” I say. “I’m heading to Embu. I will follow you guys till Karatina.”
She looks at my bike, like she is sizing it up.
“Follow us or leave us?” she asks.
I laugh. “I will follow,” I say. I may have a big bike, but truth be told, I ride like a grandpa. We are talking bike world standards. My grandpa riding is still faster than your V8 cage. But I digress…
I follow them, and man, this chic can ride! Some years ago I used to ride a cruiser quite similar to hers, but I don’t think I did some of the things I saw her do, especially in the corners. I can’t explain it, so if you really want a picture here is what you should do: First get a Honda cruiser, a 400cc. Second, grab a lady (by the hand, please) and have her sit on it. Then in a very gentlemanly way, kick the bike and the lady over so that they are lying horizontally on the ground. Now imagine that whole thing you just created is moving along at 120kph. That’s what Carol looked like in the curves.
“Sorry, but I’m a bit of a crazy one,” she says.
I take some photos at our Karatina stop over:
Allen volunteers to show me (the hopeless tourist) the road I should take to get to Embu without going all the way to Makutano. I hit the road again, through Kagumo, Kerugoya, and a place I had never, ever heard of before: Kutus. People of Kutus, please do something awesome and make the news. Arrest some illicit brewers. Birth a bimbo socialite. Please…
At some point I find about seven policemen manning a road block. One of them walks to the middle of the road, and seems unsure whether or not to stop me. I can tell he is having a hard time making me out because of my bright lights. I slow down. Suddenly, one of the other policemen smiles at me and beams with recognition.
“Ah! Mguu ilipona?” he shouts at me. He is asking if my leg got completely healed.
I nod yes, and ride slowly past them. I have no idea whom he thought I was. If you are a rider and there’s a cop around Embu who knows you hurt your leg, it gives me great pleasure to tell you that he will be delighted in knowing you are well. Get in touch with him.
A few minutes later, I’m in Embu town. I head to the inn where the work event is being held. The watchman surrenders his little hut to me for a few minutes so I can change out of my biking gear.
I won’t tell you much about the work event, except that there is a lot of young guys having fun, and taking photos with large comic book character cutouts. I try to be young and hip and join in in the fun, but mine comes out like a devil molesting an innocent teenager…
Holy mother of Mary!
The CEO is here too. At 3pm, I’m ready to hit the road back to Nairobi. He is usually full of jokes, and he says he is about to leave too, and I should escort his car the way the president is escorted by motorcycles.
“Well I’m taking the long way back,” I say.
“Bummer! I was just imagining you running ahead and blocking off traffic from side roads just for me…”
Funny guy.
I take the long way back, through Masinga dam and Matuu. A few kilometres from Masinga dam, I see bright lights approaching. It can only be bikes. Now, if you don’t ride bikes you will find what happens next utterly strange.
We stop. It is a group of four bikes with five riders. I have no idea who they are, and they don’t know me. But we stop and greet each other like long lost buddies. They are from a ruracio somewhere and are now heading to Embu just for fun. I don’t find that strange. I’m from Embu and just taking the long way back to Nairobi. They don’t find that strange.
We part after some photos…
99ers rendezvous
I’m hoping Matuu is near because I’m running out of fuel and have already hit the reserve tank. My dashboard has also gone blank and I have no idea why. So I can’t tell my speed, the engine speed, or whether my indicators are on. I just smile and ride on.
At Matuu I stop for a little snack. A man comes and sits near me and starts repairing a sling shot.
“Do you sell those?” I approach and ask him.
“Yeah, I do but right now I have run out of them,” he responds.
“Can I have this one?”
“No, I’m just repairing it for someone.”
I was not planning to kill birds with it, but I still have a feeling that the birds in my hood hold daily prayer meetings. I ask him if I can take a photo. He obliges.
Meet Mr. Muli.
The rest of the ride to Thika and on to Nairobi, is uneventful, just me doing my best to beat the darkness, and get home in one piece.
But… That small boy laughed at me…
THE END