Annami: 26 May

26 May: Isiolo to Merile

The road treated us to a massage as we drove from Isiolo to a church Lodie knows about.

We maintained an average speed of 20 to 30km/h.  If you should consider driving any faster it would become a vicious session at the chiropractor.  The landscape became all the more rugged the further we drove.

The first 20km from Isiolo we struck it lucky as the first 20km was a newly tarred road, and for the next 60km the road works continued.  We had to use a dirt track next tot he road works.

Lodie decided to stick to a 45minute drive and a 15minute break.  This way we and the Toyota would maintain some sort of sanity and functionality.   

Little settlements became less as we patiently drove through the Northern Kenya Rock Desert.

In a break Lodie and Anja managed to get a hold of six yellow bread roles, avocados and some bananas.  As luck would have it I am allergic to both avocados and bananas.  Luckily mum remembered Melrose. Smothering the yellow role with a proudly South African cheese spread we all feasted in silence.  We were beneath a bridge of some sort.  We were in the midst of nature's buzz.  No other human being in the vicinity.  Only Anja, Lodie, myself, a Toyota Hilux double cab, a little shop breakfast and freshly made gas stove coffee.  

Once a truck passed us with a high speed.  We couldn't even have been sure if those people were people or extra-terrestrials.  Apart from friendly waving hands they their dust cloud made human features impossible to be distinguished.

The only sign of human existence noticeable in the area: bridge graffiti.  Somebody did math on the pillar. The word "example:" gave me the idea somebody had class there.  

As we headed for the vehicle Lodie halted.  We were not alone.  A little steenbuck dashed for shadow.  From behind a bush he peeked at us.  

 Wherever we looked these creatures seemed to pop out of nowhere.  Somewhere along the line I noticed that a steenbuck or two (in certain cases even more) almost took over every third shadow they could possibly get hold of.  Only in very rare occasions could you see them in direct sunlight.   They became the desert mystery.

 In between spotting the steenbuck Lodie an Anja developed the urge to have some Chai tea (they seem to like this drink quite a lot).  I decided to join in.  Next time I will probably order coke. But this screams Kenya.  People around here drink this morning, noon and night.

We aimed to reach some sort of church Lodie knows about.  It seemed a nice idea to stop and see if camping would be possible.  

A lone vehicle standing next to the road appeared in front of us. Three men were sitting ducks. Something went horribly wrong with their vehicle (a royal blue SUV of sorts).  Lodie got out and moments later a young man, Devin, got in next to me.  

He was hitching a ride with us.  With him in the vicinity we manage to figure out some sort of name for the town.  According to him the town's name was Maryland.  From his drop off point we spotted the settlement store.  Ladies wearing traditional cloths walked up to us.  We asked whether we could take photographs and they bluntly refused.

We met a man who offered to show us the stony track up the mountain to the church.  He organised a huge meal of rice and beans. This got dashed with flaming chilly sauce.  It looked quite pink and tame, but Anja would definitely agree that this was only a very deceiving illusion.  

As we awaited the local feast we soaked up the shade.  Mostly devouring, creating or proofreading travelling literature.   Now and then some people passed by, greeted and moved on.  Three girls, using an orange sarong as an umbrella against the sun, came up the mountain.  

A young man, Boniface Surmat, headed to them. My assumption was that they were off to have a chat.  I carried on writing and forgot about them.

Very well harmonized notes drew my attention.  I realised they were having a choir practise. The sound quality surprised me.  The few girls I saw scarcely looked able to speak with the necessary confidence. Let alone sing.  Being a performer I thought it best to leave them alone.

As a few voices added to the music, my feet lead me to them.  It was impossible to ignore the musicality.  Eager to understand the lyrics I asked if they know any English songs.   

I ended up teaching them Amazing Grace.  How sweet the sound.  

Whilst having an early supper, the church's acoustic carried the notes.   It became the background music to an afternoon in Merile (the actual name of the settlement).  After choir practice the singers went to fix the road we followed to reach our night's refuge.  Still singing those addictive notes just had a lovely afternoon with their friends.

That night an armed watchman took care of us.  His knife was an intimidating sight.  But not once did I wish my tent had a lock.