I will preface this post briefly with a few words just to let you know that I am safe. If you're like most of America and don't follow the news from Subsaharan Africa then you might ask why. (I don't blame you for this – the news giants need to get their acts together). Anyways, this weekend there was a small suspected Al Shabab attack near the city center. This definitely put us a bit on edge when we first heard about it, but we actually live pretty far from the city cetner and don't go there too often. At this point most Kenyans I've spoken with don't see this as a serious threat, but it certainly makes you remember the security we share at home.

In other news, this wee our schedule was a little bit different, giving us some extra free time. We had our kiswahili oral exams all day Monday and Tuesday. I strategically chose the second possible time slot on Monday, giving me plenty of time for extra adventures. A few of my friends and I decided we'd like to visit the Ngong Hills just outside the city. We had read that it was suggested you hire an armed guard to escort you through the park and I was rather sure that wasn't because the area is home to lions and other dangerous animals...this turned out to be a true assumption as the only animals we saw were goats, sheep, and a few cows. Regardless, after informing our academic director of our plans, he immediately got on the phone to enlist the service of a friend. He then gave me the phone number, instructed me to call when we were on our way, and the person on the other end would come to meet us and set us up with a guide. After picking up a picnic lunch from the grocery store, we were off!

I think this is now an excellent time to share with you a little bit about matatus. Matatus are 14 passenger vans used throughout Kenya and its major cities. (The 14 passenger limit really means 17 or 18). Each van is numbered and follows a specified route (don't ask to see a map) and many matatus have really gangsta names while also proclaiming God is great and similar sentiments all over the windows and sliding door. They blast music and if you happen to be riding at night, which you shouldn't in Nairobi because it's not safe, you may be lucky to find yourself in a matatu with some groovy neon lighting. In this way, matatu is synonymous with party bus, but in another way, a matatu is all business. The driver and conductor work together with the goal of bringing in as much money as they can. For the driver, this means driving as fast as you can, in any lane (that is if you choose to use the road), and dodging anything that comes between you and the prize. For the conductor, this means yelling loudly anytime the van makes a stop in order to find more passengers, and if it's already full, no need to worry, he'll find a way to squeeze you in. The conductor is also responsible for effortlessly orchestrating the fare collection and drop off of each passenger. With a few taps on the van's metal frame he communicates with the driver to stop, and a few more taps signals to go.

On first observing a matatu in action, I felt that this venture was complete and total chaos. How could you possibly know which number to take? How would you know how much to pay? Etc. Since this time, I have come to very much appreciate matatu culture, and I have found that instead of the total chaos I had thought, matatu operation is highly choreographed organized chaos.

So, if it wasn't clear from the long digression, we chose to take a matatu to the Ngong Hills. Who needs amusement parks when you can instead pay 50 cents to wind your way up and over steep hills on Kenya's narrow roads? Upon arrival we agreed it didn't matter if our hike worked out because we had already had a great matatu ride. Soon after arriving in Ngong Town we met up with our tour guide/body guard. However, we were unaware that the hills were actually quite a distance from the town center, and we would need more than a matatu or our own two legs to get us there (thank you internet travel sites for your insufficient reviews). But in Kenya it's all about the Kenyattas, so after shelling out way more than we would have liked, our new friend Jackson went to collect his car and we were on our way. We drove high into the hills along a narrow dirt road. The small sedan circa 1995 was already struggling, then we hit the serious off-roading. Just as I had imagined my grandfather's disapproval regarding our boating safety a few weeks ago, this time it was my Sharrigan grandfather's cringe as we tried to drive over a series of rocks protruding from the “road”. After hearing the awful grinding noses of the car on the rocks, I can only imagine what the undercarriage looks like.

While all of us were a bit on edge regarding our driver's renegade tactics, we quickly became distracted by the view. Not only were we impressed by the view of the plains below, but we also found ourselves within a wind farm, driving beneath the massive turbines of seven of the giants. (I will say, I now understand people's concerns about turbine noise and shadow flashes.) We parked right by one of the turbines, took our lunch, (Jackson took his club) and we started our hike. After building up an appetite we stopped for a lunch of cheese and crackers, green beans, and apples. This was quite a luxury because not only did we have cheese, but having bought our lunch from the upscale grocery store we decided to forgo the boil it, peel it, cook it, or forget it rule and enjoy our green beans raw and crunchy. I'll let you know if that was a good decision later... While eating, I was reminded of our hike up Fragrant Hill this past summer in Beijing. In both cases we stopped for a scenic picnic, except this time we took an armed guard. And by armed I mean he was carrying a stick. I don't mean to scare you with all this guard talk (yes, Grandmother, that means you to!) but “Nairobbery” doesn't occur just within the city center, and thieves are notorious for preying on both tourists and locals alike up in the sparsely populated hills – thus the guard.

After lunch, we hiked back down the hill, while also heading over to the other side in order to see the view of the city. Although you don't hear about Nairobi with cities like Beijing, Shanghai, (or any city in China for that matter), or LA for its environmental problems, the city has a serious problem with pollution. This became evident as we looked out onto a hazy horizon of smog. But we could just make out the city center. Satisfied , we returned to the car to head home. After stalling out more than a few times and just barely starting again, the car managed to get us back to Ngong Town where we climbed aboard another matatu for yet another crazy, exciting ride.

Our trusty guard, Jackson.

Thumbs up to alternative energy!