So having survived the horror of knowing that cobras were lurking all around (this caused me to stick closely to the pathways and check where I stepped quite carefully while walking), and having learned how best to kill a scorpion that has mistakenly assumed it will be your tentmate for the night (with a sturdy shoe, three good whacks usually does it), I was at least a bit better prepared for the daunting task of training half a dozen very tall, very strong, remarkably gorgeous (really, how one tribe has such a high percentage of stunning men is beyond statistical odds and quite unfair) and intimidatingly proud Maasai men and helping them reorganize their camp.
My first day was spent cleaning tents with the young Room Attendant, Joseph. He was so quiet I wondered if he spoke English, but once he warmed up I realized he really was quite fluent. Since cleaning is not usually the domain of males in this culture, I was not surprised to see him taking an upside down and haphazard approach - mop floor, strip beds, clean sink, go get new linens for beds, clean shower, take away old linens, sweep front porch, dust, go get new soaps for bathroom, go back again and get fresh towels... it's easy to sound like an efficiency expert when the miracle you introduce is as simple and effective as A) get all your supplies together first, B) strip the room, C) make beds and add fresh towels, D) clean bathroom all at once and replace soaps, and E) sweep and mop from back to front and zip up tent - the last bit being the real revolution, since you don't then walk all over a floor you just washed! Wow. I was relieved when Joseph grinned at me and said 'much better, I like it' after I made him try it 'my way'.
Upon inspecting the stock room where he went to get his linens and soaps and mop, though, I found it in chaotic disarray. So the next morning I determined to bring a bit of Swiss orderliness to this camp's stock room and save the investors from constantly losing expensive items like linen to weather and bugs. I managed to coax Weweiro, who was hired as the 'Pool Maintenance Guy' and apparently has a tendency to cleave mightily to his job title and resist doing any other jobs (even when the pool can't be used because the generator is out of gas and it can't be filtered!!!), into getting the sheet metal and nails together to put walls around the storage shed, which when I found it was basically an open chicken wire cage with a roof, which means it was a welcome mat for creepy creatures who just loved to inhabit and munch on the camp's valuable supplies. My ability to charm him into doing this managed to impress the rest of the guys, who then watched me closely and with great interest for about half an hour as I dragged item after item out of the clogged shed, all wondering if I was seriously stubborn enough to go through with it despite finding the occasional nasty spider or scorpion. When they saw that I was not backing down, they all suddenly looked at each other and, probably out of shame, since they all had at least a foot of height and certainly a lot of muscle over me, jumped in to help me lift out all the heavy items. I smiled to myself at my small victory. By the end of the day, we had that place in top shape and everyone was looking at me quite differently. They all started calling me 'madam' with a very earnest tone in their voices... madam, could you come and show me the best way to do this? Madam, may I get you some water? Madam, would you like to go on a game drive and see animals tomorrow morning?
The next day was F&B service training with Josphat. Admittedly, it's a camp, and we're not talking plated dinner service or anything. But for people who typically own one single dish per person at home, and for whom that dish might consist of a reused old margarine tub, the logic behind stocking cabinets with plates, side plates, teacups, saucers, serving dishes and so on is not a 'given'. So as odd as it sounds, my first hour was spent explaining how much easier it is if you put the plates in one row from back to front, the teacups in one row from back to front, and so on - as opposed to all the plates at the very back, then all the cups, etc, which of course makes for a lot of reaching every time you set a table. Next was the very amusing lesson about serving women first, refilling women's water and tea and coffee first, and so on. This was met with two very, very arched eyebrows and a slightly cocked-back head, as if to say 'you are an odd, odd bunch of people, you muzungus!'. But actually it led to a most enjoyable discussion about cultural differences in various areas of the world, and what they signify in terms of any given person's status. If I ever go back to Sampu to help them again, I'm going to bring cutlery dividers for their drawers and complete the Food & Beverage service revolution.
In the remainder of my week I managed to have a team meeting with the Game Drivers and Security, to meet with the Chairman and Treasurer, and to oversee a deep-cleaning of all the tents and the creation of par stock lists and procedures for inventory checks. I knew I had won them over completely when, upon my departure, all these 6-foot-plus, regal and strong-spirited men one by one asked me very humbly and beseechingly if I would please stay and be their manager forever. I very nearly cried to have to leave them at that point.
Back in Nairobi I had one more Maasai man to win over: John Kamanga, the director of the camp who works remotely from his African Conservation Company office (he has many projects and this is but one of them). I suspected from the beginning that he did not really think I could do much in a week, and that Faith had just been persistent in arranging this opportunity and he took it as 'oh well, she won't do anything but it won't cost me anything so I'll put up with her'.
I arrived at his office dusty, sweaty, windblown and carrying a pen and some handwritten notes (having had no computer access at Sampu) and found him very busy and distracted. So I sat down and typed up my report and recommendations while he was doing other things, and at the end of the day I delivered all 7 pages of what I'd done, what I recommended, and a SWOT analysis of his project. I was rewarded royally when he, too, said 'this is amazing. When can you come back to do more training with us?'. So obviously I'm already eagerly looking forward to my next vacation in Kenya working at Sampu Camp!!! To borrow a phrase used a lot by the men I worked with in the camp, 'if God shall open the door, may it be so'.
I had a few days left in Nairobi and Faith asked me to give a talk to her Environmental Entrepreneurship Youth Group, telling them my career history, which I did on Friday afternoon. It was great fun to learn what amazing business plans these young Kenyans are putting together, and hear about the variety of internships they are currently working on at various companies.
One of them, Kuria, is just extraordinary - a shining example of the kind of bright young person who can and will shape Africa's future for the better. Since she had a course to do on Saturday morning, she sent him as her delegate to be my escort and professional bargainer at the Marketplace in Nairobi. Wow, can he ever haggle! We took a full sweep walk-through of the market first, just to see what was there ('madam, come here, let me show you...' 'lady, come, I have good prices' 'hey sister, look here' and lots of tugging of my sleeve and pushing) and then we circled back to get the items I wanted. He negotiated locals' rates while I pretended to look like I didn't particularly care if I bought that item or left it behind, to help him persuade the seller. One exasperated stall owner, who had been quite dead set on charging me 'tourist' prices, finally looked at me, sighed, and said 'Your boyfriend here must be a Kikuyu [a Kenyan tribe]. They bargain like hell. You have a good one, I am sure you will be very happily married.' Kuria and I laughed and left with my purchases. It's pretty much always assumed when a Kenyan is seen walking with a mzungu of the opposite sex that they are a couple, for whatever reason.
That afternoon (which I guess is now yesterday afternoon, not so long ago at all), Faith joined us, as did one of her interns, Kirsten, who is working at the UN and also helping her with the entrepreneurship program. Kuria, Kirsten, Faith and I did the truly Kenyan thing and sat sipping Tusker lagers and passionately discussing world politics. We agreed, after many hours of discussion, that our generation is the one that will overhaul the UN and make it a 'real' UN, not the toothless thing that it is now. We will abolish the 'veto' power that makes it possible for powerful nations to be rogue terrorist states that ignore international law, and we will usher in the beginnings of a new era of global humanitarianism. Hurrah and excelsior! We toasted to our current and future aspirations to live lives of service and activism, and then at last it was time to say farewell.
We went our separate ways, Faith as usual escorting me like a guardian angel to my next destination, which sadly was to the airport for goodbyes. And even more sadly, it included a lineup around the airport just to get in (I flew out two days before the BA strike is due, so it was a mad hustle to get out ahead of time.) Having obviously been born under a travel-lucky star, I ended up in line with a delightful expat Kenyan heading back to LA where he lives, and we joked, laughed and assisted each other with all the irksome luggage and security and check in and such procedures which nowadays are fraught with inconvenience. Then when we split to our different seats, lo and behold! I found myself in the same row as the wildly charming English folks who had been 'my' guests at Sampu camp when I was 'managing' it. They regaled me with tales of their adventures upon leaving the camp (flat tires they managed to mend with string and bits of wood, imagine that) and their next stop in Malindi, and I told them all the rest of my adventures after they'd left me at Sampu. So with all that good company, I had no time to be weepy about leaving, and here I find myself, at a comfy Internet Cafe, awaiting my plane home.
And so, friends, I am signing off - the last chapter of my Kenya travel diary ends here... until the next adventure and next email diary, be well!
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