The rough with the smooth

As Expats living in Kenya there is a lot to enjoy. The country is amazing and varied. We have made some very good friends. The weather and space means we all get to spend loads of time outside in the sun - and I for one find that feeling healthy (ish) in body helps my state of mind. My life is made much easier by having a small army of people to help look after the kids, sort the house, drive us around, do the shopping and babysit. Tim and I have stimulating jobs that get us out and about round the region, meeting interesting people and learning a bit more about the place we live in. The kids are happy at school. And we all have full social lives with parties, good places to eat, swimming pools to splash in and weekends out of town.

We also get to do some pretty surreal things, like running round a garden with the Commonwealth baton and Kenyan Olympic legend Kip Keino. The premiership trophy appeared that night too.

I didn't take photos of last night's eating haggis, drinking whiskey, sitting with men in skirts (a girl's checked school skirt in the case of a Frenchman who thought it the next best thing to a kilt) or the Scottish country dancing in the middle of a Nairobi garden to celebrate the Scottish national poet. That would be an odd experience anywhere.

Feedback from a few mates suggests that I may have blogged a bit too much about the new, exciting, fun and interesting aspects of life here at the expense of incisive political observations. And I accept that it is insensitive to make too many references to the Indian Ocean when friends in the UK are suffering extreme flooding and friends in DC are snowed out. Thinking what to blog about next I do try and avoid too much "sunshine and swimming pools" but there is a bit of a cumulative effect showing more of the smooth of life than the rough.

The rough isn't of course as photogenic and it is not so good for talking about as a family - as I have learnt from the mix of inquisitive minds and one too many horrific world service Africa news item about genocide, war crimes and rape on the way into school. But just in case anyone is getting jealous of the tales of exotic animals, white Sandy beaches and outdoor living I thought I'd reflect briefly on some of the less positive aspects of our "Nairobbery" life. These of course came to World attention during Westgate. That was horrible and still impacts on how people feel about living and visiting here. But the underlying crime that gives Nairobi its nickname is a big thing too as is the Truly awful traffic which probably merits a blog all of its own.

The last week has really highlighted the contrast of rough and smooth for me. The weather is great just now - Nairobi at its best. People are being sociable after the Christmas break so alongside the Burns supper, I've been drinking mojitos at a friend's birthday and we are camping with friends this weekend. The kids are loving their hockey and have matches and school camps this weekend with much excitement. Pretty smooth.

But against that, this week we have an attempted terrorist attack at the airport (4 hours after I travelled through) and one of Matthew's friends was at a sleepover during an armed robbery at the house. He was threatened with an ak47. His mum was travelling (hence the sleepover) and it took the whole day for her to get back so he came and hung out with us for a bit after school. He and everyone else at the house is physically fine and over the scaletrix track he told Jamie all about it. He is 10. That is really really rough.

I worry that none of this feels unusual to me any more. After the airport incident Matthew just observed that it couldn't have been a lightbulb as the police were claiming because that wouldn't have blown up a bin. And Jamie and Matthew's first question on the robbery was to check with their friend if the guys had been armed. Those aren't things they even considered when we lived (and were burgled) in South west London. It is hard to convey the anxiety that incidents like this leave behind - expat life is good here but it certainly is not all sundowners on the veranda.



Anne

Going and growing up

An early start this Saturday morning to get Jamie up and off to school by 630am for a hockey match out of town, on the back of a 3 day school trip white water rafting and generally adventuring which has left him happy but exhausted. I'm struck, as recent visitors have been by how much growing up Jamie has been doing after his first term in middle school. Security and traffic make it hard to give him the little bits of independence he would enjoy in the UK - unaccompanied journeys to school, walking round to friends' houses, hanging out in shopping centres with mates. But he does get the odd night away for sports events, sleepovers and school trips which help both him and me loosen the apron strings.

He spent the first week of the Christmas holiday climbing mount Kenya on a school trip. Its a pretty major undertaking - the second highest mountain in Africa, ice and snow capped, with altitude sickness a very real possibility. He set off early and very cheerily if slightly nervously. Big hugs for mum and dad were sought out but strictly only allowed in the privacy of home and certainly not in front of mates in the school car park. This was evidently the arrangement all the other 11 year old boys had come to with their parents too. He packed his rucksack (a 40 year old thing that Tim inherited from his older brother) with the warmest clothes we have here (not much), my sturdy UK raincoat and oversized gloves borrowed from a friend of mine. And having tried out various shoes and second hand walking boots, he went off wearing my size 7 walking shoes which fit him perfectly. Growing up.

It rained for the entire trip (except when it snowed) and they came back a night early having run out of dry clothes and raced down the mountain to get home and warm as soon as possible. Jamie said that the second night was the low point - cold, wet through, in a tent with no end in sight. But they persevered and he made it to Lenana Point - the highest point you can reach without ropes at just under 5,000 metres, which was fantastic - very proud of him and his mates for trying so hard. They all looked pretty dazed the morning after. Pretty tough going up.



But good to know that through all the going up and growing up, the heaps of wet muddy washing still come home to mum. And the sponge bag returns packed exactly as it left.


Anne

The 12 days of Christmas - part 2

The second half if the Festive period was just as busy (but with less camera action) as the first. We did the sights of Karen (elephant orphanage, giraffe centre and the women's cooperative bead and pottery shop), swam every day often testing unworkable rafts in the process as Matthew seeks to develop his boat making skills, had friends over for drinks and curry on New Year's Eve, said good bye to Tim's brother and sister in law and then headed to the beach again for a few days for Matthew's birthday. We arrived at the coast as the Christmas and new Year holiday makers were thinning out and were well away from the places where a couple of grenades have been thrown in the last few weeks. It was truly peaceful (if you ignore the noise from happy kids in the pool or at the pool table) and the perfect way for Matthew to turn 10 and us all to delay the inevitable bump of returning to work and school after nearly a month away. The water was fantastically clear and full of fish and both Tim and I saw turtles when we were diving and reef sharks when snorkeling off the beach. The kids were in their element and we are all agreed that, grenades aside, the regular trips to the beach are one of the best things about our lives in Kenya.

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