Jared and Dianne

There wasn't much left we could do in Mbale. The ATM wasn't going to suddenly accept our cards and Commonwealth Bank wasn't going to start helping. Keen to get moving again we went to the bank and changed over the money we had reserved for Kenyan visas. We paid off our hotel bill and caught a matatu to Tororo. There we tried the ATMs again. Waiting in line was more suspenseful than a horror movie screening. I had actually been hopeful but like all great thrillers the build up was just a ploy, we left empty handed.

Using the Internet, we found the number for Visa. Di called them up and discovered something called Emergency Cash, essentially a money transfer from your own account but Visa takes care of the details. It was an expensive procedure but unavoidable. We sent ourselves just enough money to get into Kenya. The transfer was probably instantaneous but we took a lunch break to give it time to come through. We collected our payout from the nearest bank and caught a matatu to Busia, the border town.

The rain came down thick and heavy for the last 10 minutes of the journey. Our bags were on the roof, without their waterproof covers. When we arrived in Busia I jumped straight on top of the van and grabbed the bags down but they were already wet halfway through. The street turned from dirt to a river in minutes. We took a break in a cafe and waited for the rain to ease.

It was after five when we showed ourselves again. As we walked to the border we were accosted by dozens of money exchangers. Like usual we changed money with the street guys as they offer a better rate. We changed the little money we had over and crossed the border. We piled into a matatu bound for Kisumu at the other side. When I went to pay for the matatu I realised I had been fleeced. The money changers had made things a little confusing and in the process they'd changed a couple of 1000 shilling notes for 100s. I was pissed that someone had taken us for the last of our money but more annoyed at myself for falling for it, it's not exactly a new trick.

A man that had already been getting on my nerves, harassing us and calling us Americans for a gag continued to bait me. I let him carry on despite my desire to wring his little neck. One thing he said stuck by me for the next few days: "What this country needs is another major uprising". He was referring to the post election violence. I wondered if things were really back to normal or did he express the views of other citizens, after all many of the other passengers had just laughed when he said this.

It was around 9pm when we arrived at the Kisumu bus station. Doing our best to avoid the touts we found a tuk-tuk that gave us a fair price. During the negotiations he had been fixed on a higher price. We said, with seriousness that we were going to walk then. He dropped his price and we left. On the way to a possible hotel he asked why we were going to walk, we could be robbed. I said at this point we have nothing to lose. When he said except your life I realised that we were going to have to be more cautious in Kenya. The first hotel we tried was full and the second beyond our means. We could see two more from where we stood. They weren't far so we decided to walk. The first of these was also full but the security guard accompanied us to the other one, they had a vacancy.

In the morning, dreading the prospect of another money transfer we walked to the ATM with our fingers crossed. I typed in my PIN and waited, a few seconds later the joyous sound of flap, flap, flap came from the internal money counter. The transaction was approved and we were back in business.

Nothing was really keeping us in Kisumu but being Kenya's third largest city we couldn't pass straight through. We walked the streets aimlessly. The riches of Kenya, or their mirage anyway, were present in nearly every aspect of the city. The streets were well paved, the roundabout landscaped and the people well dressed. When lunch time came around we strolled down to the lake front where numerous restaurants resided inside open, shed like structures. Each of them sold exactly the same thing for the same price. Freshly cooked tilapia straight from the lake. Ignoring the pleas of other shop owners we went into the first door. The atmosphere inside was really enjoyable. I had ugali (a maize based staple), spinach and fish stew (with a whole fish). For entertainment we watched the local car and truck wash. People drove into the lake via a slippery, muddy track, had their cars washed in dirty lake water and drove away no cleaner than when they arrived.

I had really enjoyed my lunch in Kisumu but there wasn't much else to keep us there. Without much ado we caught a matatu to Kakamega. A dusty little town renowned for not much at all, we used it simply as a launching pad for Kakamega Forest. One thing that did set Kakamega apart was the friendliness of the people; they were helpful and even more remarkably they weren't pushy. When we were walking the streets in search of a hotel I got my first glimpse at the other side of Kenya. There were as many street kids in this little town as I had seen in all of Uganda. They were drinking a thick, brown liquid from 150ml bottles. I assumed it to be cheap alcohol until I saw one fill his from the litter ladened gutter. It was a pitiful sight. I am not sure why but there were no girls amongst them. I wondered if their fate was better or worse.

Kakamega was void of entertainment and healthy food. We tried to back up our photos but like everywhere else we had been before, we were limited to old computers without USB 2.0. The fluctuations of the transfer timer suggested that the process would take between 23 and 143 hours.

The hotel staffed moved us to another bedroom in the morning. They maintained it was much better but I couldn't see a difference. Not wanting to offend we moved anyway. I could hear some unsettled chickens outside the door so I went to investigate. There was a pile of about 50 chickens and a man brandishing a knife. Systematically he severed their heads and dropped them into a large bucket whilst the others watched on. It was no surprise really, the front to our hotel was a chicken shop. I couldn't help but feel a little for the chickens who knew their fate but were powerless to stop it. Regardless I probably ate one later.

We hoped to finish our walks in the forest by the time the afternoon rains came so we got away pretty early. A matatu dropped us no more than 1km from the park gates. The entry fee was a hefty 20 USD, it turns out even forests in Kenya are under control of the park authorities. We began walking down the main road reading the signs that marked the walking paths that peeled off here and there. We stopped to check out some particularly playful velvet and colobus monkeys.

We came to a major junction in the road, left to the waterfalls and right to the lookout hill. According to our map it was possible to do a circuit which incorporated both. At around 10km this suited us fine. We took the left hand path. Rather than cutting through the lushness of the forest it skirted around the outside. We passed by the rangers' station and continued in the direction of the waterfalls. As the signs had dried up and we had not taken a step under the canopy of trees for a couple of kilometres we assumed ourselves to be lost. We asked a couple of farmers how to get to the falls. In perfect English they described the route we needed to take, we had been going the right direction all along. The falls were no more than a creek washing over a 1m drop but the way the light shone into the water was beautiful enough to compensate.

None of the trails were marked on our map, well not accurately anyway so we took the most major looking option. We followed the creek down a little valley for more than a couple of hours. We were considering turning back when we came across another path that was not marked on our map. At least it was going in the right direction. It took us to a major road which no doubt lead back towards the gate. Regardless of the route it took the road was exposed and dusty. We returned to the start of a path we had encountered just a few hundred metres back. We followed that for another hour or so through semi-forested grounds until the path disintegrated into a series of mud bogs. Taking any which pointed in roughly the right direction we eventually came back out near the falls. Di was tired and I wasn't far behind so when the opportunity to visit the hill lookout arose we passed it up. Back at the main gate we stole a glance at the maps that they had for sale. We could see exactly where we had been. It hadn't been a long walk, around 15km but the state of some of the tracks amplified that figure in our heads. We had beaten the rain. A matatu picked us up before the skies even threatened to unleash.

Tired of wasting nights away I convinced Di that we should go out for a drink. We went to a little drinking hole across the road and ordered a couple of beverages. Immediately I regretted being there. We were the only clients in the whole place that didn't have glassed over eyes and Di was the only female who wasn't a hooker. I couldn't even finish my horrible black concoction passed off as Guinness. We made a quick retreat and decided to avoid such places in the future.