14th November 2009: Whereas the write-up is all intact I have removed the many video clips I had on here which were in WMV format and will replace them with Youtube videos when I have a spare 39 hours to sort it all out.

Why did I go backpacking around Kenya for almost two months, from June 1st to July 21st 2006? I'll tell you. My sister Amy was going to Kenya with a friend from uni called Elli to do research on charities over there for their dissertation. My other sister Beth had just finished a 4 month stay in a village in Senegal and wanted to go see Kenya too and my parents wanted me to go with them all to make sure they were okay. Not that they would say they needed looking after. My sisters are very independent travellers but you know, having a big strong male in the group might help put off would-be baddies a bit. Plus I'd not seen any of Africa before and I also needed to get out the house and breathe some fresh air.

There were some major differences between this trip and other ones I've been on:

• 1) I was asked to go on this trip rather than having thought of it myself. To be honest, I hadn't had any particular desire to go to Kenya in the past but the opportunity arose so I went for it. It just meant that there wasn't the initial build up and excitement that I've had in the past when I've been thinking about doing something for a while.

• 2) I was travelling in a group. Not just that but the others were all girls. Not just that but two of them were my sisters. I have always enjoyed travelling alone for the main reason that I have my own space, I can do whatever I want and I will meet all the people I need whilst out and about. Travelling in a small group in a tough and tiring country for seven damn weeks can become very claustrophobic, especially as there's not exactly looooads to learn about your own sisters. Definitely not enough to make 7 weeks of conversation. Yikes!

• 3) This was real backpacking and the bulk of it was far from any tourist trail. Lugging heavy bags everywhere, improvising on the spot, no phones, venturing anywhere we thought might be interesting without any real knowledge of what to expect. This is what it's all about. Great fun, sometimes a bit worrying and HELLEVA tiring.

• 4) We used the Lonely Planet guide book for Kenya. I'd never used Lonely Planet before and whereas it's very useful for finding places to stay and knowing what there is to do in an area it's important to not end up relying on it too much. For a start it's not always right and secondly, who the hell wants to restrict where they go to the recomendations of a guide book? Travelling is about exploring, not following the same path a million people have done before. Having said that, Kenya is no Thailand and we did a great job at really going off the map, as it were.

After my shots, which included a pretty hefty £100 Hep B triple jab and Yellow Fever which made my arm feel swollen and heavy for a day or so, I was ready to rock. Kind of. Well whatever, I had no choice, I was off to Kenya.

I took a train to Birmingham and another to Selly Oak and set about finding my sister's student house on a Friday night wearing a great big back pack. I looked extremely homeless. I spent the night there after which Beth turned up too and after having said goodbye to Amy's housemates we walked out the door and head to the train stationt to begin our long, long journey.

Beth and I had never met Elli before but she broke the ice with great skill by tripping over whilst we ran for our check in at Birmingham Airport. I don't just mean she fell, I mean she completely wiped out whilst running at speed on a sloped part and carrying heavy bags. Boy, did she skid along that floor. It was probably the funniest thing ever. Nice one, Elli!

As far as travelling around Kenya goes, our plans were pretty much improvised as we went along. We tended to go wherever we hadn't yet been and stopped off in various little places along the way. We ended up crossing Kenya several times as we zigzagged about the country over the seven weeks. This map shows the main places in which we stayed.

We also ventured into Tanzania -South of Kenya- and head out to the island of Zanzibar towards the end of the trip as well.

In case you were wondering, we didn't go to North Kenya because it really is cut off from the rest of the country. There are very few roads (well, "mud tracks" is more accurate), even fewer vehicles that will take you up there and it's a very tribal area with sporadic conflicts between the tribes going on all over the place. It's not the sort of place you go without really knowing what to expect and for your first time in the country.

Here are a few quick points about Kenya just so things in this write-up make more sense:

• Their currency is the Kenyan shilling and there were about 135KS to 1 British Pound and 70KS to 1 US Dollar.

• Just like Thai people call Westerners "Fellang", the Kenyans call us "Mizungo".

• Everyone always says "Howareyou" but without actually knowing what it means. They think it means hello rather than that it's a question made of three words. Similarly, if you say "Hello" they reply with "Yes, fine, fine, fine".

• Kenya used to be owned by the British but became independent in 1963. Obvious signs of a British occupation include Christianity being the main religion and Chip shops all over the place.

• Its official languages are Swahili and English with most people being able to speak good English which is always useful, especially in such an otherwise chaotic place.

• Lastly, we were in Kenya during the World Cup. Whereas I don't usually care for football it was the World Cup and the whole of Kenya seemed to be into it (first supporting any Africa teams that lasted more than 3 seconds and then supporting England after that). Therefore we made an effort to watch all of the England games as well as a few of the others. I've got to say, being so far away from England and seeing your home team on the big screen really makes you more patriotic than normal, that's for sure (I wouldn't class myself as patriotic in the slightest usually, you see).

For loads more info about Kenya which I am not going to write on here go to its Wiki page linked at the bottom of this one!

Having thought about it, it's probably a good thing to know a bit about the transport that's available to you when you're out in Kenya. As you'd imagine, it's cheap, but it's definitely not comfortable (as far as travelling on any of the roads goes). Kenya is plagued by corruption and it would seem that every penny of any budget put aside for improving the road network around the country manages to vanish into thin air whilst at the same time various governors and people in authority seem to be able to afford to build yet another house for themselves and buy three more cars. By complete coincidence, of course. As a result lots of the roads between cities (and the majority of roads inside cities) are pot-hole infested, broken, torn up tracks which mercilessly pummel any vehicle that dares drive on them. Suffice to say, you won't be drifting off to sleep anytime soon when riding in a bus or matatu for a few hours.

There are a few decent roads here and there, mainly just coming out of some of the cities. Coincidentally the roads that do see some attention are often found close to the houses and neighbourhoods of people in authority who are in charge of the road budget. How very strange and unexpected!

Matatus
These are Kenya's main form of transport. They are basically minivans which cram in as many people as possible and follow set routes around town or between towns. Matatus tend to be run by two guys, one driving and the other hanging out the side shouting at the top of his voice telling people where the van's going to. He also collects the money. More often than not the matatu is pimped out, the outside being graffiti-painted with really cool designs and the insides having ultra-violet lighting and a fat stereo.

Matatus can seem a bit intimidating when you first get to Kenya especially in busy cities like Nairobi as they don't appear to have any sense of order. The streets are crammed with them pulled over at the side with guys shouting everywhere and ridiculously loud custom-made fog horns ringing out every few seconds. You walk past these vehicles and everyone is like "HEY YOU, YOU GO TO KISUMU, YES? YES! GET IN MY VAN!" After a while, however, you learn how they work and you can make very good use of them for short or long journeys.

Boda-Bodas
These are simply bicycles with an extra seat stuck over the back wheel. They were originally used to carry people across the border (border-border) but now they're everywhere. They are good fun to use but I always felt sorry for the guy cycling, especially when we hit a hill. Still, Boda-Boda guys are strong as hell, that's for sure.

Taxi
Taxis in Kenya are the same as they are anywhere except they're not metered so make sure you decide on a price before you set off otherwise the guy will just take the piss.

Buses
The buses are battered from doing 1000s of miles on Kenya's roads but they're a good way for getting between towns because they cope with the potholes a bit better than the Matatus. However, don't sit right at the back of a bus on a long journey as you will literally be catapulted out of your seat every time you hit a ridge (roughly every four seconds).

Train
Kenya has one single railway running through it. I've written about it on THIS PAGE so I don't need to write about it here.

So that is how we moved from place to place. Now, on with the story...

Wiki: Kenya | Boda Boda | Matatu

After a long and tiring flight during which we stopped over in Dubai airport for a few hours we finally touched down in Nairobi. Amy had booked a place in a youth hostel across town and they'd sent a taxi to pick us up. However, our first mistake was to presume that the taxi was part of the youth hostel and therefore paid for in advance. The guy was free to charge us anything he wanted when we arrived because we hadn't arranged a price beforehand. Luckily it wasn't too over the top but it was a good taster of what was to come for the next seven weeks i.e. EVERYONE wants your money and you have to be one step ahead of them to stop them getting it.

Driving through Nairobi was an eye-opener. It's a dirty, dusty place with junk dumped all over the place. The roads and pavements were all broken up and everywhere you look there are people just hanging around. Apparently over half of the population of Nairobi don't have a job. It would seem that of these people most were men as it tended to always be guys who were just sat or laid around doing nothing all day.

Once at our youth hostel we started to think about where we were going to go next. We didn't actually have any real idea other than Amy wanted to visit some place miles away in Tanzania at some point during the trip. I was laid down in my bunk bed thinking how long this trip was really going to be. I will fully admit it, I wasn't particularly positive about the concept of spending the next seven weeks here. Still, what can you do? Shut the hell up and get on with it, that's what.

Amy was looking through some leaflets at the reception of the hostel and found one for some charity. She decided there and then that we should go check it out. It was over to the West of Kenya in a place called Wagasu so we planned a route to it via some other places including a safari park.

That night we walked around the block. Lonely Planet and pretty much every other Kenyan guide book out there puts strong emphasis on how you should never go out into Nairobi at night yet here we were, three blonde girls and a guy, walking the blackened streets with fast traffic, no street lighting and potholes all over the place. It was slightly unnerving, especially after having only just got there and not knowing anything about the place but hey, we may as well get used to this country as soon as we could.

I had weird dreams that night although I can't remember what about. Waking up the next morning, we packed our stuff up, checked out and set off into the town center.

Nairobi isn't that hot. I'd presumed that with it being East Africa, very close to the equator and in Summer, that the heat would be very strong. However, Nairobi and that whole area of Kenya apparently has some altitude (1661 meters to be precise) so the air is a bit cooler than you'd imagine (although still generally warmer than in England). This was not a bad thing at all. Carrying huge back packs is annoying enough as it is without sweating into oblivion as well.

FACT: You can't fit four people with four large back packs into an over-crowded bus or matatu. After waiting by the side of the road for ages and not boarding any public transport that stopped because we'd never fit I suddenly questioned what the heck we were actually doing. Lonely Planet had said the place we wanted to be was 1.5km away so Amy had thought we'd need a ride there. Pfffff, no way, I couldn't believe she was thinking we had to get a lift there. I said we could walk it in like 15 minutes and so we did. It then struck me that as this was the first time I'd been travelling with other people I was kind of just drifting along with them, letting them decide what we were going to do and how we were going to do it. I realised that perhaps I should be a bit more active in this as for the first time on a trip abroad I wasn't in control of what I was doing and people had been making silly decisions.

In Kenya everyone stares at you. And I do mean EVERYONE. It's pretty obvious why, of course, as there weren't any other white people anywhere so we must have stuck out like four sore thumbs. Especially with our luggage. Getting stared at non-stop is something you just have to get used to in a country like this. It's not a big deal except for when the con-men come along and think that they can shaft you with their bullshit. We'd read the warnings and knew that you just have to say "No" about a million times and ignore them when they follow you but damn it got annoying after a bit.

Well, here we were and with almost two months ahead of us it was time to grit our teeth and get on with it. WELCOME TO KENYA, EVERYBODY!!

We found the matatu park from which we could catch out to Nakuru and bought tickets. Oh man, matatu stops are chaotic places. It seemed that everyone was trying to sell us something. We were sat in our matatu waiting for it to fill up with enough people to make it worth the drive and there was just a constant stream of guys tapping on our windows trying to convince us to buy their goods. These ranged from the useful, such as water or food, to the bizarre, such as plastic action figures and pink Barbie purses. The funny thing was how these guys couldn't understand why we didn't want to buy this stuff. One man was trying to sell me an Osama Bin Laden wrist watch. I told him that Bin Laden isn't very popular in the West at the moment and his selling line was "Yes, but this watch reminds you that people can be bad". Thanks, mate, but no thanks. He then got pissed off with me because I spent 10 shillings on some bread instead. Later on, however, I did wish I'd bought the Bin Laden watch, for the novelty value if nothing else. I mean where else could you buy such a thing? Surely it would have fetched something on e-bay? Ah well. I wanted a Saddam Hussein one anyway. Pffff.

Finally the matatu was full and ready to roll and off we set to Nakuru in search of their safari park, feasting on corn, bread, milk and apples sold to us by the frantic mobs which surrounded our vehicle every time we stopped anywhere.

We got to Nakuru and stopped in an equally busy Matatu area. The ride had been pretty good and part of it was along the side of this enormous rift that rips through Kenya, made by glaciers millions of years ago. It was definitely something new being about to look out and see so much land at once, going way, way off into the distance. That valley is one heck of a rift!

Next job was to find Nakuru Safari Park. We went into a little cafe to shake off the numerous touts following and shouting at us to buy stuff or go somewhere and got food, much to the amusement of everyone in the building. A very common dish in Kenya is cooked beans. These are flippin' DELICIOUS and I always ate loads of the stuff. We also drank Kenyan tea which we'd also get quite addicted too as well. I hardly ever drink tea back home but here I would have pots of the stuff every day.

Back out on the streets and in search of the park we found ourselves walking there being followed by yet more guys full of the small talk trying to get us to go somewhere or offering us "special price" for travel. We weren't really sure where we were going but we couldn't be bothered following up any of the stuff these guys were saying. This woman got talking to Amy and Elly (they were walking a little behind Beth and I) and Amy called us back saying that this woman could get us to the park for a good price. She led us to a taxi with a load of guys hanging around it and we decided on a decent price and off we went. The gates to the safari park were a lot further away than we'd expected (Lonely Planet maps should never be taken at face value). We got in, bought tickets (not so cheap) and then realised we had no food so Amy and Elli had to get the taxi back into town, buy food and come back again. A slight waste of money but hey, we weren't exactly very organised.

Once inside the park one of the wardens took us to our huts. We were staying at the WWF game compound (that's World Wildlife Fund, not the wrestling one) and except for the woman looking after the place and a couple of workers we were the only ones there. VERY EXCITING! Our hut was impressive and equipped with kitchen stuff, showers and two bedrooms. The compound was surrounded by a beaten down fence which wasn't exactly going to stop any wild animals from coming over but this made it more fun in a way I guess. It was getting dark and we could see zebras and buffalo on the plains in front of us. Apparently there were packs of lions roaming around too. The warden told us that when a lion attacks a human they have to go out and kill the whole pride because once they've had a taste of human blood they won't stop hunting us.

After a while of messing about outside in the dark and hearing strange rustling in the bushes and buffalo snorting quite close by we finally went to bed.

The next morning I woke up really early and decided to get up and look around. Outside it was really sunny and I could see giraffe and zebras grazing and lazing about. I then saw a troop of baboons coming over. These animals are so bizarre. They behave like humans, more specifically like mischievous little kids. Well, little kids with amazing athletic ability. They were rummaging around the place, jumping over the huts, fighting each other and scratching their arses. In many ways they reminded me of me.

That day we arranged a tour of the park. The taxi guy who'd brought us there came back and drove us around for three hours. Nakuru is known for its flamingo lake. This is where millions, and I do mean MILLIONS, of pink flamingos gather for a few weeks before migrating somewhere else. We had apparently missed the height of the gathering so we had to do with only seeing about half a million flamingos. Yes, that's a hell of a lot. Driving towards the lake, it looks completely pink and it takes a few moments to realise that it's because of the birds. There are SO many of them and you can hear them from miles away. We drove along these salty plains towards the edge of the lake where we were allowed to get out of the car.

We hadn't been allowed before because of lions but now that we were so far from any cover we'd be able to see lions coming for us with plenty of warning. That area STANK! Think about it, not only was it a sulphur lake but the ground was literally covered in the dried, crusty shit of 3 million flamingos. Ammonia, mmmmm...

Back in the car and further round the lake we saw a small family of white rhinos. Now these things are HUGE. Even the baby is a big bastard but hell, the father is like a tank. And his horn looked razor sharp. If that guy decided to start ramming our car we'd be in trouble. I asked Beth if she dared me to run over and punch the baby. She said no. But you know what? Even if she'd said yes I wouldn't have done it. Rhinos' skin is so thick it looks like armour. However, their eyes are tiny little things and I'm sure they can't really see anything. So, if you ever find yourself being chased by an angry rhino, run in zig zags. It won't be able to see you properly and is far too heavy to change directions very quickly. Never forget that.

Driving further we went up to the top of Baboon Cliff. Ironically we didn't see any baboons up there (they gather at night) but could see the whole lake and all the flamingos which was an impressive sight. Later on we saw loads of baboons and there was plenty more scavenging, fighting and arse picking to behold. What fantastic creatures!

After observing a giraffe which was just stood by the road not doing anything for about twenty minutes (very strange) we spotted a sleeping leopard and a load of various monkeys, antelope, gazelle, bison and more zebras. All in all a pretty cool trip.

We felt that two nights in this place was more than enough. Quite how some people go on safaris for two weeks at a time I do not know because once you've seen the animals the novelty wears off pretty quick. We told the owner of the WWF huts that we were heading to Kisumu and he said that he knew someone who owned another animal charity compound over there and that we should stay there as it's very cheap. He also phoned his friend to tell us we were coming which was good of him.

Back in town and back in a matatu and we were driving once again, as the African sun set on the horizon.

Wiki: Nakuru | Lake Nakuru National Park

Our matatu arrived in Kisumu at about 10pm. It was very dark and the matatu/bus area was not at all inviting. It was very badly lit, we weren't very close to the main roads and there were guys hanging around all over the place in little gangs. We didn't know where the heck the KWC (Kenyan Wildlife Center) was and nor did our matatu driver. Luckily we had the phone number of the safari WWF's owner and the driver guy called him up to ask directions. We agreed for him to drive us there for what was probably a complete rip-off but to us it wasn't that much and we were in no real position to barter it down.

The KWC Center was about a kilometer out of town, off a street of posh houses and hotels. It was one main building and several circular hut-type buildings on the grounds. The owner greeted us and everyone was very friendly which was cool. We unpacked in our dormitory which had ten bunk beds in it so we weren't too cut for space.

The next day we met Francis, one of the center's workers, a short guy who spoke good English. We stayed in this place for four nights. During the day we'd hang out around the grounds or go into town and at night we'd either eat in town or eat at the center. To get from the top of our road into town was either a twenty minute walk or a five minute Boda-Boda ride so we took a fair few of them in our time there. It looked pretty funny, the four of us in convoy, sat on the back of these bikes with the riders sweating away getting us up the hill. The ride down was a lot faster though. Not bad for 14p each per time.

One of the nights when we were out coming back from eating at some place a load of street kids came over asking for money and things. Later on, back at the KWC, I couldn't find Beth's wallet that I had been carrying. I was sure I'd been pick-pocketed and was pretty gutted, not because there was much money in the wallet, but because I never thought myself as chump enough to get ripped off that way. However, a bit later Beth found her wallet in her bags so even though I have no idea how it got there when I had it last, it meant that I hadn't been robbed at all and my pride and self-confidence was restored! Hooray!

Wiki: Kisumu

Francis seemed concerned for us as we piled into the matatu, mainly because he'd never heard of the place we were supposedly heading to. This was fair enough, given that we had no idea where the heck we were actually going or what to expect other than the briefest of addresses (Wagasu, Kenya) and a phone number that never connected. Even so, we set off in search of this place and a guy called "Eddie".

After about three hours in the matatu we pulled into a town called Bondo and were immediately rushed by numerous matatu drivers and touts telling us to get into their vans. It was actually funny how out of place we were. Four Westerners laden up with bags without a clue where they were or where they wanted to go. We found the right matatu which was rusting to bits and waited a while for it to fill up with more people. Once that was done we set off again. It was then that it struck me just how far away we were driving. The roads turned into dirt tracks which then turned into hilly dirt tracks and these carried on for mile after mile after mile. Wherever we were going, we weren't coming back in a hurry. Something told me that public transport around here was pretty scarce.

After a brief wait in the middle of nowhere due to our matatu breaking down thanks to over-heating we finally reached the place that we were supposedly meant to be. The village of Wagasu was down a steep dirt track which you'd have a tough time getting a push bike up and down, never mind a matatu. Wagasu was a true ramshackle village. Wooden buildings were stuck all over the place with just dirt in between. We were a long way from paved roads and tarmac. It seemed that all the people in the village came over to see what was going on. It was late afternoon and the sun was getting lower. Loads of kids were crowding around us nervously and the adults weren't far behind. Elli said she didn't feel very comfortable. Whereas I wasn't worried about anything bad happening I couldn't help but laugh at our situation. We were in this tiny village literally miles from anywhere, we didn't know why we were there, none of the locals knew why we were there, there was no leaving as our matatu had pulled away and we were surrounded by 100 curious pairs of eyes, wondering what we were going to do next.

Well anyway, in brief, this fat guy came over and told me he was the chief of that area. After some talking he said he'd take me to the government official of the village to try and work out who we were trying to find. I got on the back of his dirt bike and left my bag with the girls, who stayed sat outside of the Big Chief's store.

After lots of faffing about, driving a couple of kilometers to the Official's house, stopping for about half an hour for Fat Chief to talk to a couple of his friends, Fat Chief realising he'd lost his glasses somewhere, driving back to find them, driving back to the village again, we finally got back to the store. It was dark by now and a storm was blowing up. Apparently the guy we wanted, Eddie, had now been told we were here and was on his way. We were taken to a guesthouse further down and got a room sorted, as well as dinner.

Eddie arrived and was really cool. Eddie was my age, spoke English very well (as well as four other languages) and was the one who had set up a charity, the leaflet for which we'd found in the youth hostel in Nairobi over a week ago. I was real pleased that Eddie was as cool as he was. It was good to have a guy my own age hanging around for once and compared to virtually every other Kenyan guy we'd met, Eddie was on the ball.

A tremendous storm was now hammering down outside as Eddie explained to us what he was about and what he did. One particularly hilarious moment was when we were looking out the window at the pitch black landscape which would suddenly be lit up by fork lightning every few seconds. We were peering out, with our faces right up against the glass when suddenly in one of the lightning flashes this guy appeared right in front of us. And not just that but he had a coat pulled over the top of his head and a huge grin. Because his skin was so dark and it was black outside all we suddenly saw was these bright white teeth and eyes grinning at us just in front of our faces. Everyone went "ARRRGH" at the same time and jumped back. Pahaha, it was funny.

Our first day in Wagasu was tiring. Eddie wanted to show us around, so we could see what his charity does. Now you mustn't forget, the charity wasn't some great big organisation with loads of workers. It was literally just Eddie. After a good night's sleep in a guesthouse further down the way from where we'd been dropped off we packed up our bags and started walking. And boy, did we walk.

We walked from place to place, laden with all our stuff, in the heat of the day. To be honest it was some much needed exercise. We visited various widows and orphans who had lost husbands and parents to AIDS. Part of Eddie's work is that he checks up on these most vulnerable people on a regular basis. We went to a meeting for the local women which taught them how to micro-finance so that they can borrow money to start businesses and by grouping together they are able to spread the payments between them so that it all gets paid off on time, even if one of them gets ill and can't work for a while. That was especially tiring because we'd been walking about all day and the meeting was in Swahili so I didn't get very much of what they were saying. Beth and I decided to go outside and lie in the sun instead. I didn't regret that decision.

After that we went to the house of the headmistress of the local school. By the standards of this area she was relatively well off. She had a nice one room house (made from concrete instead of mud) and an area of land with various poultry running around and a donkey. There were a couple of other small buildings including her son's mud hut. The woman offered us a huge plateful of white bread and butter and pot after pot of Kenyan tea. Never one to turn down free food and always polite enough to finish whatever I am offered I polished off tons of the stuff. I would soon live to regret this...

We went to the local school and the kids went crazy with excitement. "HOW ARE YOU, HOW ARE YOU" they all shouted, not knowing what it actually means. The school was a brick building but bare minimum (no glass in the windows etc). The nursery school was literally a mud hut with a thatched roof. The 4 year old kids looked very funny a they all sat there staring up at the enormous Mizungo towering above them with massive backpacks on as well.

At last we were done visiting people and seeing things for the day so we head off for the long walk back to the main area of Wagasu. A storm was brewing once again which looked really cool. We walked and walked, passing various people along the way, Eddie stopping to tell them who we were and what we were doing, again and again (he was getting pretty tired of it before long) and we bought bits and pieces from a small food seller we passed on one of the tracks. As we got back into Wagasu it was getting properly dark as a huge black cloud hovered overhead and lightning started ripping across the sky. it looked wicked!

After waiting under the cover of a store front whilst the rain hammered down for a while we finally set off out of the village to go to a hut which Eddie kind of owned called the Wagasu Center. I think it was made especially for charity workers or something. It was another kilometer walk up with the storm beating down all around us. Once again, it was pitch black and the only way you could see the bumpy track in front of you was when lightning flashed overhead. Fortunately this was every few seconds. Beth had a bit of a scare when she thought that a telephone pole was a giraffe but other than that the long walk went just fine.

Once we'd settled into this hut which was a good distance from the center of Wagasu and therefore away from the staring crowds, things became much more relaxed. Just to describe the place to you, it was a single room building with no electricity, water or gas which was up a hill with corn fields in one direction -behind which was Lake Victoria- and rolling hills in the other. We had oil lamps for light at night and some of the locals very kindly brought us pales of water from Lake Victoria every morning which we used to boil, drink and wash. It was very simple living.

Over the next week and a bit we did a load of different things. Eddie's charity was all about providing support for the local community, most importantly the AIDS orphans, of which there were many (at least 40 kids just in that one small village). On one of the days we went round with Eddie visiting some of the homesteads which were now run by the kids since their parents had died. We also met a young mother who had AIDS and whose husband had already died from the disease. Her 8 month old kid was obviously oblivious to what was up ahead and it was pretty tense stuff.

AIDS is a big problem in Kenya, just as it is in any developing country. The biggest problem is people's complete lack of education about the virus. Some of the stories you heard about how little people know were unbelievable. One example is that a teacher asked the kids in her class if they knew how to avoid catching AIDS. A load of them put their hands up and said things like "My mum sweeps the house out every day so we don't get AIDS" and another said she brushes her teeth everyday to avoid AIDS. And that's just the kids. The adults are even worse! A big story in the media at the time was how the guy who is supposedly in charge of AIDS education in the whole country was on trial for alleged rape. He was acquitted of the charge but it's what he said in court which caused an outrage. The judge asked him how he knew he didn't have AIDS after having unprotected sex with the woman. The guy said, in court and in front of the nation's press, that he knew he didn't have AIDS because after the sex he went and had a shower.

What the hell?

Yes, that is coming from the guy supposedly in charge of the country's AIDS education. The complete idiot successfully crushed 10 years of progressive education about what AIDS is and how you catch it and no doubt that countless confused people went and had unprotected sex but made sure that they had a good shower afterwards to stay immune...

It's when you hear stories like that, you realise what a losing battle it seems to be. A percentage of the population don't even believe that AIDS is real, instead thinking that it's all made up by foreign governments to control them (America's Idea to Destroy Sex). With so many people not believing it's real and a big number of the others not understanding how it's transmitted then it's no surprise that AIDS is rampant over there, ripping society into pieces and ensuring that the country's development can never properly pick up.

So yes, whilst the confusion and the debating and the arguments carry on up there in government somewhere the people continue to die from the disease leaving more and more kids behind, some of them with AIDS themselves.

Three times a week the charity gathers all the orphans and widows together and organises a nice big meal for them so that they all get to eat properly at least once and are able to congregate, along with all the elders of the village. Amy, Beth, Elli and I helped make and serve the meal and then we all had to talk to the crowd about ourselves for a bit with Eddie translating us for them. All that I really remember is that it was extremely hot and I burnt my neck.

Hey, remember when I said I ate several loaves worth of white bread at the woman's house? Well, everything was great until about two days later when I realised that I hadn't been to the toilet in a while. Not to worry, I thought, nature will work its magic before long. Well a day after that I started to get concerned. I was eating like normal yet nothing was coming out. WHERE WAS IT? After several unsuccessful attempts at trying to dislodge my guts I really started to think about this. Having three or four days worth of food inside you cannot be good for the body.

To cut a long (and horribly painful) story short, I basically took a load of laxatives and waited and waited and although I felt some stirring nothing was shifting. I imagined what three loaves of white bread compressed into a fibreless brick looked like and knew that it was this that, for use of a better term, was bunging up my arse. It was about three in the morning and I thought to myself I have to get rid of this otherwise my body is going to shut down and I really don't want that to happen out here. So I told myself I wasn't going back to sleep until I was cleared.

Now, you have to understand what the toilet was like in this place. It was, like most toilets in Kenya outside of the cities, literally an outhouse in the corner of the field with a hole in the ground. Now picture this... a field in the deep Kenyan countryside at three in the morning, the full moon illuminating the amazing landscape and Lake Victoria twinkling close by, a warm breeze blowing from the lake as an electric storm sweeps the land far in the distance, everything is so quiet and tranquil, almost... perfect...

...and then you've got me, a 24 year old guy, wearing just a pair of boxer shorts, squatting in the corner of a field, sweating, grunting, straining with all his might and literally sobbing in pain, genuinely scared that he's going to rupture his arse in half whilst trying to dislodge this cinder-block that's built up in there over the last three or four days.

I don't think that I have ever experienced so much pain. I truly believe that I now understand the feeling of childbirth. That blockage was not natural. Oh but when it finally, finally, finally moved... wow! I have one word for you: Euphoria! Actually, three words; shock, disbelief and then euphoria! It literally exploded out, like nnnnnnnNNNNNNNNNNNNFLUMP. After checking that my insides hadn't come out as well and that I wasn't bleeding heavily I limped back to the hut and got back into bed, replaying in my mind what had just happened and making a mental note to never ever eat two loaves of white bread in one sitting ever again.

Wow, it's just struck me that I've devoted five whole paragraphs to my tales of chronic constipation. Pfff, well I'm not apologising.

Okay, back to Wagasu life, I'll just try and summerise what went on as briefly as I can.

Every night there would be amazing electric storms which never ceased to fascinate me. There would also be incredible sunsets. One night it suddenly started to rain. I was sat inside reading a book when I heard pat pat pat KRAK! and Eddie came flying through the door rolling around the floor in agony. Everyone was like what the hell just happened? It turns out Eddie started to run as fast as he can to get inside before the rain soaked him but he forgot how low the overhang of the roof was and head butted it at full speed. Once we knew Eddie wasn't going to die everyone laughed hysterically and admired the gash on his head.

Everywhere we went in Wagasu, kids wanted to shake our hand. However there was an opposite extreme to this as well and this was every now and then when a little kid would see me and literally start screaming their head off. It turns out that not only had most of these kids never seen white people before but their parents would tell them things like if they were badly behaved the Mizungu would come and eat them or something. Basically, they saw me as the booger man and I have never seen kids panic like that. We were walking down a track one day and a kid saw us from miles away and ran into the bushes. When we got closer he was just stood there in this patch of grass screaming, jumping up and down and shaking his arms about. He must have been like five years old. His brother who looked about eight was laughing at him and this wasn't helping anything. Of course, I did my bit for the situation and growled at the little kid when I walked past, causing him to go even more mental. I wish I had filmed it, that's all I can say. It's good to know that I have such a positive effect on people.

We took a boat out on Lake Victoria one afternoon too. That was okay but it was SO HOT! And there's not a lot of shade in a boat. The fishermen boys who rowed us out and around were happy with the money they made though.

With there obviously not being any showers up there by the hut I took to washing in the moonlight with a flannel and a bucket of water. That was really cool, actually, standing out in the full moon with an electric storm hammering down rain as I washed. I can't say you get to do that too often in the normal world.

Amy and Elli left after about a week in order to go back to Nairobi and attend some AIDS conference going on there. Life in Wagasu was easy and chilled so Beth and I didn't want to go anywhere for a bit more. Therefore our group split up. We walked into the main area of Wagasu and saw Amy and Elli off on Boda-Bodas which would take them to Bondo where they'd then catch a bus to Kisumu then Nairobi. It was a hell of a long way. An interesting thing to remember about the group splitting is that none of us had mobile phones so it was like the old days again, when you agree with someone to be in a certain place at a certain time and just hope that they turn up. This always makes things a bit more interesting.

Beth and I hung around Wagasu for about three or four more days, just enjoying the easy life. We finally decided that we'd best head off so the day before, we packed up all our stuff, ate a fantastic meal that the locals made for us, said bye to like 100 people and went and slept in the mud hut at the headmistress' homestead for the last night. Eddie came with us too. Then we got four Boda-Bodas (me, Beth, Eddie and our bags) and set off for Bondo, an hour and half's hard slug along the muddy tracks. My Boda-Boda rider obviously picked the short straw. Man, did that kid earn his 100 shillings or what!

Once at Bondo we found a bus heading to Kisumu, said our goodbyes to Eddie (who actually had tears in his eyes, the poor guy) and set off on another bumpy-ass five hour journey to Kisumu. Our Wagasu experience had come to an end...

Wiki: Bondo District | Lake Victoria

Beth and I walked back into the KWC and the staff were pleased to see us. We weren't able to stay in the dormitory this time as there was a large group of Masai coming to stay in a day or two so the caretaker set up a tent for us which was good of him.

Over those few days Beth and I spent a lot of time lazing around not doing all that much. We hand washed all our clothes, went into Kisumu a few times, went online and found some great places to eat buried away in the town. It felt good getting to know a place. We went to one ramshackle cafe (wooden poles holding up a makeshift roof with plastic tables and chairs to sit on and chickens, dogs and rats running about the place) and the food and drink -Kenyan Tea especially- was so good and so damn cheap that we went back there every day for three days. The woman who owned the place loved us.

I really needed a shave at this point and had cleverly forgotten to pack any kind of shaving equipment so Francis took me to his local barber and I got my head shaved to a zero and my face clean shaven except for one very tidily trimmed goatee. It felt pretty invigorating to not look so much like a caveman any more.

That evening Francis took us to this point by the lake to try and spot hippos. We had to leave the road and walk out into this marshy area for a bit which was a little dodgy given how dangerous hippos actually are. Still, we didn't get chased and eaten but we did see a family of hippos bobbing around about 50 meters out from the shore.

A group of Masai stayed at the center on our last night and we helped prepare the dinner for them. Even though they were Masai they weren't all wearing their traditional red robes and jewelry but had suits instead. I can't remember why they were there but I think it was for a meeting in town or something. All I can say is those guys (and women) sure can eat. The Kenyan traditional dish of Ugali is like a dense brick of starch. The masai polished off like a ton of the stuff like it was extra light mashed potatoe or something. Very impressive.

The next morning we went with Francis to go and buy some fish for dinner. He drove us a few kilometers along the lake shore to a fish market where a large group of people were waiting by the water as three or four fishing boats came pounding through the water towards them, powered by dozens of enthusiastic fishermen. once they'd got back to the shore the bartering began and everyone clambered to try and get the best price for the big fat fish they guys had caught.

After an enjoyable few days in Kisumu it was time to leave again and head back to Nairobi, hopefully to find Elli and Amy safe and sound somewhere. Once again we left the KWC and walked to the bus station. A very hot five hour journey later and we were rolling back through the nation's capital. It still looked as intimidating as ever.

Wiki: Kisumu | Ugali | Masai

Beth and I got into Nairobi mid-afternoon. Stood outside the coach station we didn't have a clue where we were going. If all had gone to plan Amy and Elli were somewhere in the city and had emailed us their hotel address. We went to a net cafe and checked. Fortunately Amy had just emailed us from somewhere although she'd done a pretty crap job with the address and we weren't sure whether she'd spelt something wrong or not because we couldn't find the street on online maps or in Lonely Planet or anything. This was pretty frustrating because I just wanted to get a room and have a shower and it was getting dark already. Soon I'd be walking the badly-lit streets of Nairobi with my youngest sister and a back pack full of stuff with no real idea where we were supposed to be. That would suck.

We decided to ask the woman who was in charge of the net cafe for help. Luckily she turned out to be exactly what we needed and not only knew the street where we were supposed to be going but also walked us there as well! What a great girl! Pretty hot too, I might add. She gave us her number and told us to call if we needed any more help. It's always nice to know that there are in fact people out there who are genuinely helping you rather than looking for money.

Stepping into the Orchid Guesthouse we asked the receptionist if there were two Mizungos upstairs and she told us the room number. We found it, knocked and Amy answered the door. Hoorah! We were reunited once again.

Amy and Elli had had a busy time, going to AIDS conferences, blagging their way around and making lots of contacts. They'd even been taken to one of the slums as part of some charity.

That day was in fact Elli's last full one in Kenya. That night we went out to a place called Zanzi Bar (very clever, eh) and enjoyed a load of drinks and some food whilst watching the World Cup. I was slightly cautious about what we were doing because of all the bad press about being a tourist out in Nairobi at night but we had a great time and no one bothered us, not even when walking through the unlit streets back to the hotel. The next day we saw Elli off in a taxi taking her back to the airport. She was due to fly home, stay there for a few days and then fly back out to Ghana. For the rest of the trip it was just going to be the Tew Clan.

We'd booked tickets for a night bus to Mombassa that night so to pass the afternoon away we left our bags at reception and walked to a park a kilometer or so across the city.

Here's a good example of a classic shameless Kenyan con man. Amy, Beth and I were sat in this park area for ages, reading our books in the sun and generally relaxing. After a couple of hours we set off back to our hotel. As I was walking along the busy streets this guy came over to me and was like "Hey, you remember me?" and I was like "No". The guy was like "I work in your hotel, you don't remember?" See, now I knew he was bullshitting because not only was it only women who I'd seen working in the Orchid Hotel but there were only about three of them anyway so I would definitely remember this guy, especially as he had no teeth except for one dark yellow one in the middle. So then he started going on about how his car had broken down and he had been shopping for food for the children or something. Everything he said stank of shit but being the always helpful Tews we were, we agreed to help him by pushing his car to get it started again. I presumed it was in side street somewhere. The guy started leading us along the street but then suddenly stopped, still no sign of his car, and told us that actually it had run out of petrol and could we lend him some money to buy some more and he'd pay us back when he saw us at the hotel.

Pffffffffff, now we were just humouring him. What a dickhead this guy was. He'd obviously thought we were completely stupid and presumed that if he asked us to push his car then we'd decline and opt instead just to give him money or something (although I'm not sure why). But when we offered to push it for him he had to suddenly change his story, mainly because there obviously was no car. Also, added to this, why the hell would he have driven to this part of the city when we were literally five minutes walk from the hotel and the roads are packed? NO, MR GRIM-TOOTH, YOU ARE MADE OF SHIT! Even though we were pointing out the 56234532 holes in his story (and his teeth) he kept trying to lie and lie to get us to give him money for petrol for his non-existent car. Finally he looked pretty pissed off and told us that he would see us back at the hotel and then we would be sorry because we'd see that he was telling the truth. We took this to mean that he would wait outside the hotel for us to come out and we didn't want to have this nutjob following us around the city so we rushed back to the hotel, got our bags from reception and headed off to the coach station. Freaky toothless man.

Anyway, next on the agenda was a really long drive all the way to the South East of Kenya, to Mombassa.

Wiki: Nairobi

It was a very long drive to Mombassa and I didn't sleep. Things weren't helped by some mad old woman sat a few seats behind me who decided to pass the time by singing. Now if she'd been Charlotte Church then I wouldn't have minded so much but she most certainly wasn't. She sounded like a cat drowning in a washing machine. Having to listen to someone singing really badly in a foreign language at four in the morning is really, really annoying. I am a tolerant guy, I swear I am, but that woman was pushing it really badly. No one else seemed to be telling her to be quiet so maybe she was singing about her dead husband or something. I don't know, but I opted for just coping with it and not asking her to please shut the hell up.

Finally we got to Mombassa. It was six in the morning and although it was getting light nothing was really open at this time. We met a guy who'd been on the bus as well, called Espen (from Holland), and we all went to a Muslim cafe we passed on the high street. The guy in there wasn't very friendly at all. I don't get why though, we were buying loads of tea. Ah well, it was a pretty crappy day so maybe he was just feeling down.

When we knew it would be open we went to the hotel that Lonely Planet had talked about and checked in. Not the greatest sight to be greeted by when arriving at a hotel is the floor to have actual human shit on it. I guess a pipe had burst somewhere but whatever the reason, there it was, a couple of solids floating through reception on a stream of water with a guy casually sweeping it up with a brush. Welcome to the Taner Hotel, everyone!

Amy, Beth and I got a triple room and Espen got a single down the hall way. It was grey and miserable outside, raining for most of the day so we just spent it sleeping, still knackered from the bus journey. That night we went out to a bar to watch the England match. As soon as we'd paid to get into the bar I recognised it as a Go-Go bar, complete with numerous ladies sat around winking at me. Ah well, they still had a massive projected TV screen and the match was really cool (2-2) which turned into a great night out, especially as Kenya tends to support England (although Espen didn't and would cheer extra loud when England let a goal in).

The next day we went off to go check out some of the near by beaches. This involved a matatu ride to the Likoni ferry port, boarding a ferry to cross the 200 meter wide estry to the other side and then another matatu ride to a road of abandoned resorts. They were quite bizarre, a whole road full of villas and resorts, all of which were overgrown with weeds and empty. I'm not sure why but it meant that there were very few people around which was cool. one down side though is that the guys known as Beach Boys harassed us more than if there had been a lot of people there. These guys seem harmless enough in that they just come over and start talking to you, all friendly, but you can't and don't trust anything they're saying. They'll either steal your stuff when you're not looking or they're trying to sell you weed which is dodgy as hell to buy over there. The annoying thing is that you can't get rid of these guys and they really do spoil your afternoon. It's just constant small talk, asking you all the usual questions, "where you from?", "how long you in Kenya for?" etc etc and you can't be rude and ignore them but it's SO BORING answering all the questions on and on and on. You can't go swimming or relax because they could steal your stuff so you have to just sit there and talk about nothing to these guys for ages. Damn them!

Well at least I managed to get successfully sun burnt that day at the beach.

The following day Amy left us again. This time she was going all the way to the other side of Tanzania! That was a fair distance, it has to be said. She was off to go visit someone she knew from back home who runs a charity out there called the Bethany Project. It meant that we wouldn't see or hear from Amy for about a week although Amy is a very hardened and street-wise traveller so we didn't need to worry about her. She's a TEW for goodness sake. Indestructible!

With Amy gone, Beth, Espen and I went back to the beaches. Diane Beach, to be precise. This time we avoided the Beach Boys and wandered the empty beaches for a while before choosing an empty resort garden to put our stuff down and go swimming. It started to rain for a bit with a storm coming in and we swam out to sea as it passed over which is always cool. Warm sea and heavy storm rain, the winning combination!

Espen had moved places to go and stay in a bungalow resort along the road. We read in Lonely Planet that we had to be wary of the "marauding monkeys" to be found there. Lonely Planet wasn't kidding. There were loads of these monkeys all over the place and the second your back is turned... We'd bought a couple of mangos and Beth had put them down on the table outside of Espen's hut. After winding up a monkey for a bit it got its revenge by jumping straight onto the table and running off with one of our mangos. The cheeky little...! I then took it upon myself to go monkey hunting with a towel. Marauding little bastards...

After the day at the beach we said goodbye to Espen and head back to our hotel in Mombassa. The next day we caught a Matatu back towards Nairobi. However, we didn't want to do the whole trip in one go again so we decided to split it into two and stop off at a town along the way that we saw on the map called Wundanyay.

Wiki: Mombassa

Our matatu turned off the road that led to Nairobi and started driving up ever steepening hills. Beth and I were chewing on blocks of sugar cane that some old lady had sold us at the last stop, watching the hills and mountains around us grow and grow. After a long time straining up these slopes we finally reached a town. And what a bizarre place it was! Wundanyay was totally different to all the other places we'd been. This was mainly due to the fact that it was up in the air. Everything was green and lush vegetation and the temperature was nice and cool for once. This whole town was cut into the side of the mountains and the views all around were great.

Beth and I got out the matatu in the town center and started making our way to a guest house, much to the amusement of all the locals. I don't think that Western tourists visited this place very much, what with it being so out the way and not having a whole lot to do. We made our way into the Hill View Hotel which was described by Lonely Planet as "horribly basic". We begged to differ. Hill View had no less than any of the other rooms we'd had i.e. a bed, a light, a table and a chair but on top of this, it had an amazing view of the hills (oddly enough) right out of our window. Not only this but Beth and I were the only people staying in that block of the building so it was as if we had the whole place to ourselves. And for a few hundred shillings a night, his was not bad at all!

The guest house also had a cafe which was very useful except that it was kind of spoilt by the locals. See, Beth and I just wanted to sit down there, get something to eat and watch the football on the TV but it seemed that every guy in this place wanted to be our best friend and just wouldn't leave us alone. At first it was a couple of drunk guys spluttering on and on about how they like England. Then another guy came over -who looked about 40- and told them to leave us alone. Without wanting to upset anyone we thanked him for getting rid of the drunk guy but then he pulled up a chair and started talking to us with all the same bullshit questions, "Where you from?", "how long are you in Kenya?", "where are you going?". After the long day's drive it really wasn't what Beth and I were in the mood for. Oh yeah and then when this guy had been talking to us for a bit and Beth and my body language was clearly that of "Piss off, please, we don't care", he pulled out a "business card" and said that if we ever needed help then we just have to call him. This might sound nice of him but trust me, it means nothing. Every damn Kenyan guy has a business card which means nothing. They always say "Consultant" or something equally vague and meaningless. Then this guy says to us "Okay now we are friends you give me your address in England yes? And we write". Beth and I couldn't help bursting out laughing. This guy really didn't have a clue. I was trying to work out how he actually saw things. Did he really think that we were going to become pen pals? What a whack-job.

Another thing about that cafe is that it didn't have a menu so we just asked for chicken as everywhere in Kenya sells it. We presumed that they'd bring out some roast chicken and other bits and pieces on a plate but it turned out that the owner guy went off and killed a chicken, plucked the whole thing and then cooked it all which took over an hour. This was just taking the piss now. I mean, fair enough, that's how you make chicken but the fact that it didn't even cross the guy's mind to maybe mention that what we had just ordered was an entire chicken from scratch. Of course, this way he could charge us a lot more for it and we couldn't really argue so that's most probably why he did it. Remember, 99% of people in Kenya are after your money and nothing more.

Beth and I avoided eating in the cafe after that night. We instead walked into the town and bought food from the road side sellers. Beth even asked for four tomatoes in Swahili and the woman gave us an extra one free because she was so impressed. Nice one, Beth!

We wanted to go and explore the hills. The guy who was in charge of the guest house (the owner's son) offered to take us around. We didn't really want him to because you know, we're independent adults and don't need someone to hold our hands when going for a local walk. It's not like you can get lost in a valley when every mountain side faces the others so you can always see exactly where you are. But the guy was persistent so we thought we may as well make the most of local knowledge. However, much to my annoyance I made a great big error by not negotiating a price beforehand.

After about an hour of walking through all these snickets and pathways and past homesteads and schools we started climbing a very steep slope to the top of this huge cliff face. Once at the top the view was pretty damn amazing and I took to playing about on the edge of the cliff to scare the hell out of Beth and our guide. It worked!

However, then the guy started giving it all the hush hush, buddy buddy thing I knew that he was about to ask for money because it's how all Kenyan men go about it. They pull the guy in the group aside (because obviously money is strictly man business and all) and start acting all buddy with you, talking about "a little something" blah blah. It really spoils the atmosphere when you realise your guide who was previously acting like your best friend suddenly makes it clear that he's there for one reason and one reason only. I was mainly pissed off with myself because I'd forgotten to negotiate the price before we'd set off. I asked him how much he wanted and he rather sheepishly suggested "1000 shillings". PAHAHAHAHA! Bloody hell, to help put this into perspective for you, the average worker in Nairobi makes about 150 shillings a DAY. This guy wanted ONE THOUSAND for an hours leisurely walk. Oh MAN, it's annoying being taken for a fool by every single person you meet.

But then it just got worse. After getting it down to 500 which was STILL utterly ridiculous, we carried on walking and he told us about "the butterfly forest". Beth and I were thinking "Whatever, we don't really like you, you bastard" but wanted to have a good walk to make up for the price of it all so we went along with it. However, the guy got on his phone and called his mate who was apparently a ranger for The Butterfly Forest. Our guide told us his friend would be able to show us around the forest because he knows it so well. DING DONG! No, punk. Beth and I weren't making the same mistake twice in one day. After having fleeced us for a week's wages for an hour's walk our guide obviously thought we were immensely stupid and with fat wads of cash in our pockets so he was getting his friends involved too so that they could all rip us off as much as possible as well. Not this time, you bitch. Beth and I were genuinely pissed off now, especially when the ranger guy met us and then three or four other guys came out the woodwork too, all apparently "assistants" or some other bullshit title that they made up on the spot. Beth and I felt like there was a sign hanging above us saying "REALLY STUPID MIZUNGO WITH TONS OF MONEY RIGHT HERE. GRAB ALL YOU CAN!" We'd had enough. We told our guide that we didn't have any money on us now so he might want to tell his good friends this fact before we got too far. He did and what do ya know, they all kind of dissolved back to where they came, mumbling incomprehensible excuses or something. Who cares. SEE YA!

Only the ranger remained, probably because he secretly hoped we'd cough up at the end. NOPE! We'd made it clear we weren't going to pay and we damn well didn't. This was just as well because the butterfly forest was crap. Like, really crap. It was a dark, dingy, dense forest with nothing but rotting wood and leaves all over the ground. I think we saw three butterflies the whole time. Wow. It was also very awkward as well as boring because Beth and I didn't want to be with these two gimps who were itching for our money and the forest was so crap there was nothing to do or say other than follow the ranger and listen to him say completely stupid things like "This tree is very old, that tree is a protected tree, those trees are also very old". WE DON'T CARE.

So, to summerise the day's events, Wundanyay hill sides are GREAT, Wundanyay's local men who come over to talk to you are CRAP. Everything was great until our guide wanted crazy amounts of money and then it all went downhill from there. Despite the ranger/guide factor spoiling things though, we did have a good day's exercise and were both aching like hell the next day due to not having exercised for so long. That almost made the price tag worth it.

Two nights in that place were more than enough. We caught a matatu to Nairobi and continued on our way...

For the third time this trip we rolled into Nairobi. This time, however, it seemed different. Previously it had been a pretty dark and foreboding place full of crime and potential danger. But now it seemed familiar and I was in fact looking forward to staying here for a while. It was dark and quite late as we arrived at the bus station but we knew where we were going. In fact, instead of going straight to the Orchid Hotel we thought we'd look around and maybe stay somewhere else for a bit. However, everywhere was full so it was back to the trusty Orchid we went, the woman recognising us immediately.

Over the following days Beth and I explored a lot of Nairobi. One afternoon we went to the Westlands which is an area over on the other side of the city (to the West, in fact). In it is a shopping mall called the Sarit Center and it is where all the rich Kenyans go to shop and hang out. It was strange seeing such Western wealth in the city for once. We looked around but didn't buy anything because we didn't have any money. There was a cinema there too but nothing was on at the time. Casino Royale was advertised but not due out for several more months which was annoying.

After coming out of Westlands we looked at Lonely Planet and saw that it talked about a free museum. We thought yeah, why not. Can't argue with something that's free! So we found the place and went in. Right from the start it was very, very weird. First of all we wondered if we were in the right place because there was no one else around except for a guard on the gate and it looked like someone's big house or something except for a great big structure at the front shaped like a lotus flower. We walked inside and an old Indian woman greeted us. We really weren't sure what we were doing there but she called this guy over -most likely her son- and he said he'd take us on the tour. Beth and I were thinking what the hell is this place? I made sure a few more times that it was definitely all free and so off we went.

The "tour" consisted of working our way around this room stopping at about ten different areas with figures behind glass and a tape player narration talking about stuff. It was all about some sort of religion even though it never actually named it. It talked about how the world is such a terrible place full of evil and suffering and then went on to explain this spiritual movement which is all about inner and outter peace.

We were there for about forty minutes, just moving from display to display, stopping and listening to the tape recording at each one whilst this guy just stood there. At the end he was like "Do you have any questions?" and I was thinking "Yeah, what the heck just happened?" They gave us a load of leaflets about their church/religion/movement and told us how it has over ten million members or something. Whatever it was, these guys had money and the leaflet said how they were currently building a five million pound church in London. Weeeeeird. At least they didn't ask for any money from us. Beth and I thanked them and left, adjusting our eyes back to the sunlight and looking a bit confused.

The day of weirdness wasn't over yet though. On the way back to the Orchid we passed anOdeon cinema and thought we may as well check it out. Ooooh man, what an experience! It was like something out of a comedy!

First of all we bought our tickets from the box office, a tiny booth by the front door. Just like everywhere in Nairobi there seemed to be about ten too many staff working/standing around but then again, most of them probably weren't even getting paid. We then had to wait twenty minutes for the last showing to end. We sat on some grimy stools in this open hallway and when it actually ended no one seemed to come out!

Here's some of the best points about watching a film at this place...

• 1) The room was pitch black. We literally couldn't see a thing as we stumbled into some seats roughly in the middle. Even after ten minutes I still couldn't see anything.

• 2) There was no one there except maybe three people sat some rows behind who were there when we had entered. I guessed they were locals who just sat in there all day as we'd not seen anyone go in whilst waiting in the hallway. They were laughing when we came in and tripped over stuff because it was so dark.

• 3) The film began... Okay, first of all there was no screen. The projector just shone against the wall. Secondly the picture was so faint that it looked like a photo that had been left out in the direct sun for days and days, totally faded. Thirdly the picture was at a slight angle.

• 4) The sound. Well, ignoring the fact that the sound was out of synch with the picture by about three seconds you couldn't help but notice that it sounded like everyone was talking underwater. I'm not kidding, it was as if the whole cast were blowing bubbles whenever they spoke. The sound came out of an amp at the front under the screen, similar to something into which you'd expect to plug a cheap electric guitar. It was also painfully loud and distorted at parts of the film involving high frequency noises/speech/everything.

• 5) Lastly, just to round it all off, the film reels were all played in the wrong order. It was kind of like Pulp Fiction in that stuff just suddenly cut back and forth through time but of course, it wasn't supposed to.

• 6) Oh and one more point, the film was "Serenity", a film that came out about ten years ago and even if the picture and sound had been perfect the film itself (from what I could gather) was utter shite anyway.

So yes, Beth and I spent two hours sat virtually by ourselves in this huge theatre watching slanted, faded pictures of a crap film shown in the wrong order with the sound all out of time and distorted. I'm not joking, it was hilarious! Almost certainly the best 60p I ever spent at the cinema. I recommend anyone who goes to Nairobi to check out the Odeon cinema there. I am still baffled as to how a) it was in business and b) people accepted it as the standard. Just like so many things I saw in Kenya, it was like everything was being run by Mickey Mouse. It really is another world out there.

Beth and I also decided to check out the suburb of Karen. This is where all the rich, white Kenyan ex-pats live and it is like it's not even Kenya at all. The houses even look like English cottages you'd find in the countryside! We took a bus out there. Everyone getting onto a bus that goes to Karen has to be scanned with a metal detector in case they're carrying guns, bombs, knives and missiles. This was the first sign that the residents of Karen live in fear. The second sign was when we got off the bus and started walking. Every house is surrounded by high walls and razor wire, have CCTV and lots of them have great big ugly guard dogs too. Not only this but they all have big signs up on their gates saying that they're guarded by various security companies. These people are terrified!

These people are also rich. Helleva rich, in fact. Their houses are all massive and nice shiny 4x4s are parked in their drive ways. No one seems to walk anywhere there, instead choosing to drive. I got the feeling that if Beth and I hadn't been white then we would have been followed by the security patrols who circled the block all day long. Everything in Karen is unimaginatively called Karen. Karen tea rooms, Karen museum, Karen park. The place is named after Karen Blixen, some Danish author from the very early 20th century who died from malnutrition due to being anorexic. Like I said, the whole neighbourhood is named after her and is a world apart from the rest of Nairobi and Kenya. These people live in their own enclosures and most will have never even been into the actual city of Nairobi. IT'S DANGEROUS, DIDN'T YA KNOW!

Beth and I didn't like Karen at all. It felt very secluded and was like everyone pretended that there was no world outside of their little neighbourhood. It was all a bit messed up. We got the bus out of there and headed back to the hustle and bustle of Nairobi.

One of the days there Beth and I walked for aaaaaages to the National Museum as advised by Lonely Planet. After literally an hour and a half of walking along endless busy roads we got there only to learn that it was closed and would be for the next two years due to renovations. Knowing Kenya, a two year closure was probably due to them fixing a door handle or something but hey, it must have been serious because there we could see at least 50 guys sitting around doing nothing. I had no doubt it would be at least two years before it was complete. No doubt at all.

One great little place we visited was the Railway Museum. If you're in Nairobi then get yourself down there, just along the road from the railway station. It has a great collection of all sorts of trains and carriages from the last 100 years since England built the railway system though Kenya and there's all sorts of interesting things to see and read. Of course, the highlight for me was climbing all over the steel hulks and pretending that they were bombing down a track though rural Kenya. There was a great big freight yard next to the museum and I was getting all excited like a little kid, imagining catching out on one.

We had to make our way to Kisumu again and so instead of taking another 10 hour bus ride I suggested to Beth we take an overnight train instead. She agreed although the Kenyan railway system doesn't have the best press. We'd read in several sources that it's known as The Railway of Death due to the large number of big accidents it has had, mainly due to failed brakes or general lack of professionalism. Amy had a book written by the famous traveller Bill Bryson all about his trip to Kenya and a whole chapter of it was all about his riding the RAILWAY OF DEATH and how he thought he was going to die and all the usual exaggerated stuff. This, however, did not deter us in the slightest. Crossing the country in a train would be an awesome way to get from A to B, and we knew it. We bought our tickets.

I would just like to tell you about yet another odd bod Kenyan guy we had the pleasure of meeting in Nairobi. Beth and I were sat in a bar one night watching the football when this guy came over and sat down next to us. Even though it was SO OBVIOUS we were watching the TV he still insisted on starting up a conversation and went through all the usual damn questions again. He then bought us a round which I guess was nice of him, had it not been obvious that he only did it to try and impress us with his apparent wealth. But this is where it got really weird. The guy presumed that Beth and I were husband and wife. We couldn't even be bothered to explain otherwise so we just said yes, we were. Now, I carried on watching the football and didn't realise this at the time but Beth told me afterwards that the guy, who was sat opposite her, started rubbing his foot against hers and winking at her. EH?? Sorry, let me just get this straight, the guy confirms to himself that Beth is my wife and THEN starts coming onto her when I'm sat there right next to her watching TV. WHAT DID HE THINK MIGHT HAPPEN? What the heck goes through the minds of these guys? I just can't relate. I really can't. THEY'RE SO WEIRD! Just like every guy who starts talking to you in Kenya, he wanted us to come and visit him at his "business" and gave us his card. Oddly enough, we didn't go. But I'll tell you what, if I ever find myself in Kenya by myself then I am going to start following up these bizarre invitations that everyone keeps offering, just to see what they hell they actually are.

Kenya messes with my head sometimes.

After five days in Nairobi it was time to catch our train out of there. The timing was perfect! We'd done loads of stuff, had a cool time, seen a lot of things and just as we'd done it all we were moving on. One thing was for sure and that was that Nairobi wasn't intimidating in the slightest any more. I felt like I knew it all, how it all works, how to get everywhere and what to do. Except for the weird-ass local guys, of course. I will never understand them.

Wiki: Nairobi | Karen Blixen | Westlands | Sarit Centre

We got to the station on time, found the train and went into a our compartment. It's a good thing we got tickets for our own compartment because the third class carriages were crammed full of people. I don't think I could have coped with spending an 11 hour journey like that. After waiting patiently the train finally started to move out. It was getting dark as we rolled along, very gradually picking up speed.

We were passing through Nairobi for about ten minutes, under bridges and in between buildings, when suddenly everything just turned into this enormous vast landscape of corrugated iron roofs and dirt! I was like "Holy crap!" and then realised it was one of Nairobi's notorious slums. I'd heard plenty about them but hadn't actually seen one until now. And it was MASSIVE! As far as I could see into the distance on both sides of the train were these filthy run-down shacks. There was rubbish everywhere and people crammed the "streets" which are better described as muddy sewers running between the structures. Here's an interesting fact for you: Over 60 percent of Nairobi's population live in slums which account for 5% of the land. That's how crowded it is. There's no electricity except for the occasional generator-run lamp, no running water and the sewer system involves throwing your shit out onto the mud outside. Two million people live like that in Nairobi alone.

It was very surreal rolling through these slums, sat in our own carriage compartment, just meters from all these people walking around in the darkness yet worlds apart. After at least fifteen minutes of fast rolling the train finally left the slum and we were out into the Kenyan countryside.

Beth and I were awake for a while, just looking out the window at the pitch black world. At one point the train stopped for a while right next to a second track with a freight train parked on it. I was thinking how cool it would be to just climb off this train and jump onto the freight. Of course, I couldn't with Beth there, but I was seriously thinking about how wicked it would be to do that. I told Beth that if I ever come back to Kenya I'll only do it to ride the freight line. After a while we got into our bunks to sleep. However, with it being Kenya, we weren't asleep for very long as the train stopped in a few places and guys got on board shouting their heads of at each other. You'd think that perhaps at 3am on a night train you might not have an entire conversation at the top of your voice with someone who's a few meters away but in Kenya people don't seem to think that way. We also had people trying our door and even though it was clearly locked they just kept trying. I was tired, really tired, and I wanted to just open it and tell them to fuck off but that probably wouldn't solve too much so I let them re-try and re-try the door about eight times before they gave up and went somewhere else. Idiots.

I spent about an hour hunting down a mosquito I could hear in the darkness before triumphantly killing it and going to sleep.

At 6am I woke up due to the noise and movement and decided to check out where we were. The sun had only just come up and the train was snaking through the hills and everything looked pretty damn spectacular. I spent the rest of the journey just hanging out the window, watching the world go by and by about 11 o clock we pulled up in Kisumu. Back in familiar territory, we headed to the KWC center once more, sweating in the midday heat.

I don't know what the heck Bill Bryson was going on about. Railway of Death, my arse. What a drama queen!

Wiki: Kenya Railways | Kibera Slum

For the third time this trip we were Kisumu. We checked our emails but had still not heard anything from Amy. We hoped that she'd turn up in the next day or so otherwise things would be a bit messed up. I think that one of the worst things that could happen when travelling is that someone in your group vanishes without a trace. I mean what the heck do you do next?

Anyway, no need to think about such awful things as Amy showed up at the KWC the next day after having spent a long week at The Bethany Project. She told us she'd had a nightmare journey there from Mombassa as she'd chosen to go and do the whole thing in one go and if you check a map, that is one heck of a long journey. Then the town she was in turned out to not even have a bank so she hardly had any money. But alas, she was fine and everything was cool once more.

We were back in the tent again as this time the KWC was being used by a group of 15 year old English school kids and their teachers from Gloucster (I think). They were out all day doing things but in the evening the place was very busy. We had dinner with them which was fun as it was good speaking to fellow Brits again. The teacher guy I was talking to was telling me what a nightmare it is organising a trip like this now because of the tons and tons of red tape involved. In fact at first I could tell that I myself was being assessed as a potential threat as well which I guess is fair enough. MMMMM, SCHOOL KIDS!!1!

Some marauding monkeys turned up and I wound them up with a mouldy banana. Man, I wish I could climb like they do.

We went hippo spotting again like last time but with Amy as well. We drove further round the lake to a better spot and sat on some rocks right on the lake edge. A family of fat hippos bobbed around about a hundred meters away. Some nearby fishermen would hit their boats with their oars and within seconds three or four hippo heads would rise above the surface. They had a baby with them which is why they were being so protective and alert.

One night we all watched the England match and I do believe that was the game which put England out the World Cup. Oh well. Nothing's new.

Now that Amy, Beth and I were back as a team again and Amy had visited her various charities we had the rest of the trip to do whatever we wanted. The next plan: To climb Mt. Kenya! Francis told us that he'd done it before and that they time it so that you reach the peak at sunrise. It sounded very cool so we set about getting there. Once again, we were going back to Nairobi for a night before heading North to the mountain.

Wiki: Kisumu

From Nairobi we caught a Matatu to a town at the base of Mt. Kenya called Nankunyi and checked into the Jasaki hotel. When we had arrived a tout had given us a card for a Mt. Kenya tour guide operators. We decided to use it. You see, touts are only bad news when they're trying to get you to go to stuff you don't want to go to and increasing the fees by taking commission. If you just use them for information then they can actually be pretty useful.

We found the tour operators in some tiny room behind a hotel and organised a trip. If you didn't already know, treks up mountains like this one need more planning than if you were walking somewhere in England. See, I've climbed the highest mountain in England and Wales, Snowdon, loads of times and you can just throw some stuff in a backpack, put on some walking boots and get it done in a few hours. But Snowdon is just 1000 meters high. Mt. Kenya is over FIVE times that height.

Therefore we needed some extra stuff. Firstly we had no kit so we each rented boots, waterproofs and a couple of head-torches from the operators. We walked round town and bought fleeces, hats and gloves from one of the many equipment shops (the town's main source of income is tourists coming to climb the mountain) and we were sorted out with porters to carry most of our stuff because it was a three day trek so we'd need a fair amount of food and water.

We got it sorted, paid and went back to the hotel to get a night's rest. They'd told us it was an early start so we'd have to be up by like seven in the morning.

Up and on time we got into the matatu and drove to the starting point of the mountain. As we were getting sorted before setting off a group of school kids were just coming down. They looked tired but sounded happy. We were three days behind them.

In case you were wondering, we chose Mt. Kenya rather than Kilimanjaro for several reasons. The main reason was because of the cost. Climbing these mountains is not cheap. Not only do you have to pay to get into the national parks in which they are but you have to rent all your gear and hire your porters per day. This adds up to a fair amount, especially when there's three of you. Kilimanjaro, being the highest mountain in the whole of Africa (5895m) is much more expensive to climb than Mt. Kenya on a per-day basis and takes four to five days compared to Mt. Kenya's three days. We had money but not THAT much money and seeing as how Mt. Kenya was still a good height (the highest peak is 5199m) and was much closer to where we were we opted for that one instead. Hey, anything over 1000m would be new to me!

Another point to note is that Mt. Kenya has three peaks and we were going to climb the third highest (Lenana - 4985m) because the other two required actual rock climbing with ropes and equipment and would take an extra day.

So, off we set. From this point we couldn't even see any mountains, just hills and thick forest. The air was quite cool and after an hour or so we emerged from the trees into moorland which could easily have been somewhere in Wales. It really didn't look like it was in Africa, that's for sure. I walked ahead of the others for most of this first day. I liked being by myself for a bit and it felt great to be getting some exercise and fresh air again. In fact it got me looking forward to doing Snowdon that August!

After just a couple of hours we reached a building on top of a hill. I told myself that SURELY this wasn't our base camp for the night but alas, it was. Amy, Beth and I were a bit miffed and pissed off with this. Firstly we'd been told to get up early like it was very important but it turns out that there was barely two hours of walking to be done. Once we were there that was it for the next 15 hours! We had the whole afternoon, the evening and a whole night in this place which, to be fair, was nothing more than a series of dormitories. We felt kind of cheated and thought that we'd been conned by Mickey Mouse operators again.

However, I fully admit that I was wrong on this occasion. Yes, we had set off early but that's because the guides had no idea how fast we would walk and I guess they're used to out-of-shape fat tourists trying this climb. Being Tews we stormed up it at super cruising speed. Secondly, a very good reason for having us stay at this outpost for over half a day was to get us acclimatised to the air. Even though it didn't really feel like it we were already 3km above sea level and that is the height at which altitude sickness can start to show. Seeing as how altitude sickness can strike anyone, regardless as to how healthy or fit they are, and that it kills, it is worth making sure that people have some time to adjust and to see if anyone starts appearing disorientated.

So there we were. In the North Yorkshire Moores, in Kenya. We passed the time by exploring the surrounding hills and messing about by a stream. A group of Canadian guys showed up and we got talking to them. They'd been travelling all over the place and were very into hiking and the outdoors. Dinner was cooked and served by our porters and all in all, everyone was feeling pretty damn good. We slept well that night. Tomorrow would be a lot longer.

Nice and early the next morning we set off once again. The moorland began to change into more rocky land and after a while we got into a steep valley with this really weird tree/large plant growing EVERYWHERE. It was kind of an alien landscape and in the distance we could now see the peak of Mt. Kenya! I personally have never seen such dramatic mountains. It looked like something out of Lord of the Rings.

After almost four hours of hard walking and having covered over sixteen kilometers since the last camp we reached Shipton's Camp, the final stop before the peak. This was in the middle of the valley right below the massive summits. It looked so awesome! There's no way I could capture the landscape properly with a video camera. You had to be stood there, below it all, taking everything in from every direction to appreciate how huge this place looked.

We were now about 4200 meters above sea level and although I couldn't tell if I felt it or not, the air was definitely thinner and our guide told us to try and not exert ourselves as it would be much, much easier to become exhausted up here. Sound advice, for sure, but this didn't stop me, however, from running off up one side of the mountain to climb rocks. About half a mile up I sat on top of a huge boulder and looked around. The camp looked tiny from here and I could see my sisters as red dots sat near to it. After about two hours I wondered how fast I could get back there. I started to run and man, did I pick up some speed on those slopes! The obvious risks of falling over were made even more dangerous by these great big tree things and the sharp rocks all over the place. I timed myself and got back to the camp at full speed in just under three minutes. This definitely warmed me up.

Beth, Amy and I lay around on a rock facing the valley for a while, just watching the world go by. You see, with the sun out and us wearing warm, wind-proof clothing, it was extremely comfortable. The Canadians arrived a bit later.

That night we were supposed to get to bed early because we'd be setting off for the summit at 3am but I ended up staying up talking to the Canadian guys until about midnight. This wasn't such a sensible idea but hey, I'm a sociable guy, what can I say. We heard that a German guy from another group had recently gone missing after showing signs of altitude sickness. The group had been climbing to the top and he'd had to stop and turn around but never got back to camp. We were thinking how much of a world of shit you'd be in if that happened. I mean it's Kenya. It's not like they call out the Search and Rescue helicopter and find you with infra-red cameras. The best they could do was send out small groups of porters to try and find the guy. When you're standing in the valley and looking at the enormity of the place you can't help but feel that it's a kind of needle in a haystack situation. We hoped that the guy would be found but after two days out there things didn't seem too hopeful. You fall and break an ankle out there and by nightfall you're going to be in a serious state.

Without letting that news get us down too much we went to bed. However, come 3am I woke up with a pounding headache. We all got ready in the dark and prepared to climb the peak. I drank some extra strong coffee to try and wake me up but it kind of backfired by making me feel completely sick. Ah well, on we went.

Let me tell you, if you ever want to do something that feels completely surreal then I recommend you climb a steep mountain five kilometers in the air in the pitch black after having had three hours sleep. There was Beth, Amy, myself and our guide. Very soon after leaving the camp we reached the steep slopes and our pace turned into a slow trudge. I'm not exaggerating when I say that these slopes were steep. Not only this but they were also covered in scree which might be the most frustrating thing ever to walk on, other than ice. For every three steps we took up it felt as if we were sliding back down two. This, combined with my pulsating headache and continuous feeling of nausea did not make for a very stress-free climb. I began to wonder if I had altitude sickness. I was certainly showing the signs. I could also understand how people die from it even though they might get the warning symptoms. It's all about ego and pride, you see. I was wondering if I had it or not but at the same time I was telling myself that of course I don't have it and there was no way I would suggest stopping. How humiliating that would have been! Not a chance.

On and on we climbed, stopping every ten minutes or so for a quick breather. The air was definitely thin now. I was five times higher than I'd ever been in my life whilst stood on the ground so oxygen was becoming scarce and I could feel my heart pounding away. My temperature was changing sporadically as well. At points I would be so hot in all my gear that I'd take off my fleece so that I was only wearing a t-shirt but a little later the cold would hit me and I'd have to put it all back on again. The air temperature was pretty low overall though, which was hardly surprising given where we were.

After what felt like a very long time we noticed that it was starting to get lighter. Only a tiny amount, mind you, not enough to see anything other than the clouds and wow, did they look weird! I turned round and looked down the slope. I could see a layer of white below us but what got me was when I realised it was coming up towards us and at speed as well! How often do you see clouds rushing at you from below? Not very often, I'd say. Then we were in cloud, then we were out of it again, and so on and so on.

Reaching the top was a good feeling. No, actually it was great! The gravel and scree turned into solid rock again and we found ourselves climbing proper cliffs rather than loose stone which fell away every time you took a step forward. Not only was the ground solid once again but my headache had completely cleared up and I no longer felt like I wanted to puke everywhere. Given that I was now at the highest I'd ever been, this ruled out all possibility that I had altitude sickness and that it was in fact due to the lack of sleep, bad coffee and exhausting climb that had made me feel so rough. Hoorah! I was still invincible!

We hit the summit with almost perfect timing. Let me tell you what the sunrise looks like from over 5000 meters in the air. The horizon lights up in a fade of blue which starts in the middle and spreads outwards so that you can see the the curve of the earth. Everything begins to get lighter and you can see the cloud below you for as far as your eyes can see. It looks like the sea, in fact. Then the horizon turns yellow then white and the sun appears. At that level you can look directly at it as it's just a dark orange ball but as it gets a bit higher and becomes more white you'd do best to not stare at it much longer.

As incredible as the sunrise looked there was no denying that the peak was absolutely, completely and utterly FREEZING! As Beth put it, "I have never been so bitterly cold in my entire life". I remember getting my video camera out to film things up there and having to take one of my gloves off so that I could work it properly. My hand went numb in a matter of seconds. Still, it was worth it for the footage I took. The Canadians had been following a few hundred meters behind and had got there in time for sunrise too. Our guides were down the side of the peak a bit, sheltering from the cold. I guess that once you've seen the Mt. Kenya sunrise fifty times it's not so important any more and that keeping warm takes priority. Fair play. Although I could definitely watch it again, for sure.

There's a memorial at the top on Lanana, by the way. In 2003 a plane carrying 12 passengers crashed into the peak killing everyone.

Once the sun was up and everything showed its true colours we set off back down the slope. Now, this is where we saw what we had in fact been climbing for three hours. All I can say is that it was definitely for the best that we climbed it in pitch black because if we had been able to see how far and steep it was it would have been soul crushing. We couldn't believe that only hours earlier we'd been slogging up this thing. Check some of the pictures out showing how steep the climb was. Remember, we were doing it for THREE HOURS! In the dark as well.

There's absolutely no life up that mountain close to the peaks. The air is too thin and cold for even lichen to grow so there is no food chain of any sort. It looks a bit like another planet, really.

The girls were having a hard time climbing back down. However, I suddenly realised that the layer of scree that had made climbing such a test of endurance could in fact be used to my advantage on the descent. By starting to run and then take big leaps, the impact of which was mostly absorbed by the scree, I found that I was able to reach some pretty impressive speeds on such a steep incline. Of course there was a real danger that I would fall and land on one of the numerous sharp rocks but I felt confident this wouldn't happen so damn it, I went for it. I quickly thought that I had to get this on camera so out it came and off I went (check the video).

Back down at Shipton's Camp we had a much deserved breakfast and lay out in the sunshine for a little bit looking up in awe at the massive peak that we'd reached that morning. Then it was time to pack everything up and head back down the mountain to the first camp. This seemed much faster than it had on the way up and the six or seven kilometers of relatively flat ground along the valley were very welcome after the gradient-filled ascent earlier.

Before we knew it we were back in the moorlands and back at the camp. To be honest we couldn't really be bothered with the final two hour walk back to the starting point. I mean that day we'd done a three hour steep climb, an hour descent and then a 16km walk back to this camp. Luckily for us there was a huge monster truck vehicle there which was heading down anyway. The reason for this was that it had brought up a team of porters to try and help find the missing German guy. We were told the great news that the German had in fact been found. In his state of disorientation he had started heading back to camp in the wrong direction and ended up on the other side of the mountain where he had fortunately found another camp and had stayed there. So that was good news.

There. We'd done it. We thanked our guide and porter, gave them a nice fat tip (1000 shillings each) and then a matatu ride back to Nankunyi took us to the operator's office where we gave back all our stuff and got our bags and all the other things that we hadn't taken up with us. We checked into the Jambo Hotel for a good night's sleep and left the next day for Nairobi. Our Mt. Kenya excursion had definitely been the highlight of the trip so far. I felt like I had new life in me!

Oh, I nearly forgot to mention, whilst sat in a cafe in Nankunyi before leaving Amy and I had a proper argument about something SO trivial it was ridiculous but yeah, it was nasty and I can't say I've had a fight like that with a sibling for a good ten years or so. I won't go into details (it's dumb as hell) but I believe that it was the climax of being really knackered and being cooped up together for ages and ages and ages. So there. At least we made up in Nairobi though. It's definitely not worth letting these things simmer.

Our next plan? Well, after roughing it all over the country, living on a budget and venturing far from the beaten track we thought that we deserved to go chill on a nice white beach somewhere and do nothing. SO WE DID!

Wiki: Mt. Kenya

Zanzibar was not near by. The route from Nairobi to Zanzibar was not simple. For a start Zanzibar is part of Tanzania, the country South of Kenya. Secondly, Zanzibar is an island.

Our journey began with two of the worst matatu rides I've ever had. This was due to both matatus being crammed to bursting point with passengers and leg room seeming to be a couple of inches less than usual. This meant that my knees were crushed against the seat in front for the full journey which just happened to be hours and hours and hours long. There was also this little girl sat in the matatu with her mum who was eating a bag of fish and chips, her hands covered in grease and tomato ketchup who seemed oblivious to the fact that everything she touched in this ridiculously cramped environment also got covered in her sticky filth. This girl happened to be sat next to me and at one point started shuffling about and put her hand on my leg. I grabbed it off and considered growling at her but opted instead for just pushing her arm away and staying cool. I think her mum got the hint that I wasn't overly impressed with her daughter's trail of grease and started to clean her up. Except with this being Kenya and 99% of all logic being non-existent, she started to wipe her daughter's hands and face not with tissue paper or some other absorbing material that you might think about taking with you when your kid has a bag of chips covered in sauce and is eating them with her hands on a long journey, but with the chip bag itself!

In case anyone was wondering whether greasy plastic covered in grease with a bit more grease on top is good for cleaning grease off a kid's hands and face... it's not. At all.

Yeah, so that journey was very long, uncomfortable and disgusting. We also passed an overturned matatu at one point. We stopped in the traffic jam that it had caused and could see the accident. Everyone had been helped out and looked okay except for one guy whose leg seemed to be giving him a lot of pain. He was rushed into someone's taxi and driven off, I'd like to think to a hospital but the fact was that about fifteen minutes later when we were bombing along the main road the taxi -complete with still injured guy- overtook us so who knows where it had gone to in the last quarter of an hour and where it might be going now. "In circles" wouldn't surprise me.

Our matatu got to the Tanzanian border. We got out, and started walking up the road towards the border gates. SHAMELESS CON MEN ALERT #452646: As we were walking along there were a load of guys hanging around. They started shouting at us, telling us we needed to fill in a form to cross the border and that the office to do so was "just up here". They said this whilst pointing up a narrow side street. Now, with my keen sense of detecting bullshit working overtime, something about this didn't seem quite right. Border Control offices aren't usually hidden up dark alleys and manned by gangs of lay-abouts heckling people in the street. Hmmmmm, should I trust them and go into their "office"?

Idiots. I actually find that it's even worse when a conman is SO blatantly shameless about what he's doing that he doesn't even try and cover it up. The guys were like "You! Come here, you need to fill in forms!" and I was like "I can see the passport control. It's right there. That great big building that says "Passport Control" on it". And they were like "No! This is the right one! Up here. Quick, you come here quick!" Unbelievable. There was security around and these guys were allowed to just hang around trying to rob people. I felt sorry for any naive traveller who fell for their shit.

So we filled out all the forms and stuff for passport control -the REAL passport control- and went through. We were now in a completely new country. Mt. Kilimonjaro loomed in the distance and we set about trying to find a ride to the next place. The local taxi and matatu drivers wanted to rip us off as much as they could but we found a couple more and got them to argue amongst themselves before choosing the one who lowered his price the most. After a long time of waiting in the vehicle for more people to get in we set off on the second of the two worst matatu rides ever. This time it wasn't because of some greasy little girl. It was because of the mentalist driver who clearly didn't really care whether he lived or died that day and may or may not have been on Crystal Meth.

I don't know how fast we were doing down that long straight road but when you're in a tiny van packed full of people being driven by a Tanzanian 17 year old who obviously thinks that his pay and the speed he drives are linked somehow, you can't help but feel slightly vulnerable. The only time we slowed down and stopped was when the matatu actually ran out of petrol! Again, it was just funny, a classic Mickey Mouse operation. I mean HOW do you run out of petrol when you just shuttle your van up and down one long road all day? Surely you notice when the fuel gage is low and fill up at either end of the run? Not to worry, after having been observing Kenyan Common Sense for 5 weeks I was more than prepared for Tanzanian Common Sense too. We waited ages for a guy to run to some nearby houses and buy petrol from somewhere and then continued on our pursuit of the land speed record.

We got into Arusha at night. A tout started telling us about a guest house we should stay at. At first we ignored him and went to one across the road from the bus station but it turned out to be ridiculously expensive so we listened to what the tout had to say. The place he was offering didn't seem that bad at all. After getting confirmation from the guy about fifteen times that the prices on his paper were the prices that we would pay and there'd be no hidden costs we set off. The only lie he told was that "five minutes walk" was actually "fifteen" but hey, I'll let him off because the place he led us to, "The American Inn" was great! It was really big, lots of people there (Western tourists), had a wicked cafe and was cheap as chips considering the amount we were expecting before arriving in the town. We got a triple room too.

The next morning we were up and away again, catching a dalladalla (that's the Tanzanian name for a matatu by the way) to the town of Moshi. Here we checked into a hotel which I'm sure used to be either a hospital, a mental institute or a prison. It was MASSIVE! Amy and Beth had a room and then my room was like ten minutes walk away on the other side of the building, up and down flights of stairs and all over the place. Actually, writing about this place has just reminded me of something I'd forgotten about. That night I noticed that outside of my window (I was on the third floor) was a ledge that ran the length of the building. I decided to climb out and see what I could see. There was a security guy walking about on the other side of the court yard but I was in the shadows so he wasn't going to see me. I managed to get a fair distance along before bottling it and turning back. I mean, we're talking about a concrete ledge about six inches wide with not a lot to hold on to. The drop was a fair distance. Hah, I'd totally forgotten about that until now!

Okay, so the NEXT day (I told you Zanzibar wasn't near by) we got an early coach to Dar Es Salam, the port town from which ferries leave for Tanzania. SHAMELESS CON MEN ALERT #738546: At the ferry port there is a lot of confusion as to where you go to buy tickets. It's very busy and nothing is sign posted properly. Again, a group of men just hanging around started shouting at us, telling us that we had to buy tickets for the ferry from their office. Once again, it didn't seem at all right and after telling them that we'd have a look around first we found a building saying "FERRY TICKET OFFICE" and a sign on it saying "This is the ONLY place from which you can buy valid ferry tickets". We looked back at the guys who'd been telling us to buy from them and they were just grinning. Cheeky bastards.

There was a slow option and a fast option for the ferry. We took the fast one which would get us to Zanzibar within three hours. It was cool cruising along through the sea but there wasn't anything to do other than stand outside and watch things go by. It was very busy on that ferry.

We arrived on the island of Zanzibar, in the capital and port Zanzibar Town, that evening. BUT WE STILL WEREN'T DONE! We got a hotel room that was very fancy (4 poster beds etc) which made a change to our usual rooms and went out exploring the streets to find things to eat. There was a great market up the road and we ate loooads of food from there. SO tasty and SO cheap!

We left early the next morning and caught a matatu to Nungwi Beach right up in the North of the island. Over an hour of driving later and at last WE WERE THERE! We got out, chose a guest house, booked in, dumped our bags and went to go see the beach which was 50 meters from our room. Our Nairobi-Tanzania Border-Arusha-Moshi-Dar Es Salaam-Zanzibar Town-Nungwi Beach journey was finally over! It felt good.

Okay, so that was 18 paragrpahs about getting to the beach. So what about the beach itself? Well, what can I say. It was a beach on an African island i.e. very pleasent but not a whole lot to do. Not that this mattered because we were only there to relax anyway so we mainly spent our days either lying on the sand or bobbing about in the sea. Some other guys in the sea had a tennis ball that they were throwing around to each other. Amy, Beth and I didn't have such expensive luxuries but Beth found a half eaten orange floating in the sea so we used that instead. Oh how we laughed. SO POOR!

We'd spend all day on the beach and at night there would be parties and gathering further along the sands by some of the bars round there. These were okay but again, not being able to just sit down round the bonfire and chill out without some local guy sitting down and starting up two hours of small-talk which inevitably led to him inviting you to visit his business and buy a painting from it or something, kind of spoilt it.

We went snorkelling one day. We were taken out on a boat for over two hours to another island where we moored up and dived into the water to swim with the fish. I'd not actually ever done snorkelling before and found it to be very cool, especially as the water was about four or five meters deep so you could really swim about in three dimensions rather than just go along the surface looking down. One thing that got to us a bit was a constant sensation in the water that felt like stinging nettles. After about half an hour of this we realised that it was in fact being caused by millions and millions of tiny jellyfish. You couldn't even see them until you stopped and looked carefully right at the water in front of you. This wasn't the best feeling, knowing that your whole body was covered in these little things but they were harmless, just mildly uncomfortable, so it was no big deal.

The island next to which we had moored up was a private island owned by Bill Gates! We weren't allowed on it, obviously. It looked like it was expensive, just from the completely clear white beach. Well, if I was the richest man in the history of the universe I think I'd buy an island too.

For dinner we got back in the boat and went to another beach a few miles away. Here we waded onto the sand and did whatever we wanted to do whilst our guides cooked us our food. This just happened to be the biggest and most tasy tuna fish I have EVER seen/had. As well as fruit and all sorts of other stuff. Definitely what we wanted after all that swimming. After a bit more playing about in the sand we waded back out to the boat and head home to our resort. An excellent day to be had by everyone, for sure.

We explored the town behind the resorts and bought plenty of cheap food from there. The locals would have football matches in the area by the resorts and every night all the bars would open with music pumping out.

That was pretty much our time spent at Zanzibar to be honest. It was definitely good to be able to relax on a beach for a few days but I couldn't have done it for much longer as there really is nothing else to do out there. Plus it costs a lot compared to what we had been used to paying. It was good to check out a beach though. I guess that's just another part of the African experience.

Ironically though, this relaxing paradise would lead to a blimmin' nightmare as soon as we left...

Wiki: Tanzania | Zanzibar | Dar Es Salaam | Kilimonjaro | Arusha | Moshi

Now I've always been in excellent health and I am proud to say that I have what is technically known as a "kickass immune system". However, whereas this mean I don't get the crappy little illnesses many other people get all the time, it doesn't means that I am immune to everything. As I found out.

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First of all though, I feel that I should write a bit about our journey back to Nairobi from Zanzibar. If you remember how long it took us to get there (four days/three nights) then perhaps you will appreciate what a mammoth trek it was when we decided to get back all in one go! Yes, we cleverly timed it so that we took a night ferry for 12 hours from Tanzania over to Dar Es Salaam from which we caught a bus where we sat for an incredible 16 hours! On journies of this length you really do lose track of time and you can also easily start to lose the plot.

I want to tell you how utterly bizarre our night ferry was. We'd inadvertently bought VIP tickets which meant that rather than be packed into the normal area with hundreds of other people on plastic seats we went up into a kind of lounge with carpets and comfy chairs. About twenty others were also in the VIP area which meant it got a bit crowded but not nearly as bad as downstairs. It was a night ferry so for our bedding they brought us thin mattresses and blankets and everyone laid down on the floor and went to sleep.

However, I didn't sleep. This is because of the TV that was on in the corner. It was playing Kenyan music videos which are probably, no actually DEFINITELY, the worst things ever. EVER EVER EVER! I should have bought a DVD out there with some on so I could rip it to the net and show you. To get an idea of Kenyan music imagine someone wailing in a never-ending tone, in one key, and someone else plucking on a guitar and another person playing the drums. Now imagine that the next song is EXACTLY THE SAME. And the NEXT. And the NEXT!

The videos for this music are also EXACTLY THE SAME! Just the singer and their "band" standing in a garden or on a beach miming badly. NOTHING ELSE HAPPENS!

So that is what was playing on the TV and for some reason it was on full blimmin' volume. I couldn't understand what was going on. It was a night ferry, a ferry in which everyone tries to get a night's sleep yet they had this musical abomination screaming away on the TV with no end in sight. Why would they do that? WHY? At one point I went downstairs to see if I could find a member of staff to get them to turn the TV off (the controls were covered and there was no remote to be seen) but I couldn't find any. Instead the place looked like a refugee camp with everyone sprawled all over the floor, asleep. No staff in sight. They were probably asleep too. I went back upstairs and worked my way around all the sleeping VIPs, over to the TV. I looked for some way to switch it off. There was a gap to the side of the TV and I stuck my head in to have a look. HAH! Wires! Lots of cables and wires! I reached round and grabbed the biggest one and yanked it. It didn't move so I yanked it harder. BAM! Suddenly it all turned off and there was sweet, sweet blissful silence. I felt proud. I also felt tired. I laid back down and tried to get a few hours sleep before we arrived in Tanzania. At least this nightmare was over.

At the Dar Es Salaam bus station we had yet more completely shameless conmen trying to rip us off. Amy in particular was getting really annoyed with them. We basically explained to one of the guys that we knew he was lying and told him how we knew he was lying and trying to take our money and when we told him to piss off and leave us alone he just matter of factly admitted that yes, he was lying, yet he STILL carried on following us trying to sell us valueless tickets. THESE PEOPLE ARE SO ODD! "Buy these tickets!" "But they're fake. They aren't worth anything!" "Yes, I know. I am trying to con you. Now buy these tickets from me!" "Errr..."

The sixteen hour bus journey was what you would imagine it to be. Very long, very tiring, everyone felt crap. However, two things made it bearable. One was that we were going to Nairobi and I for one liked Nairobi a lot by this time. Secondly, we were going to Nairobi to then go HOME! The plan was to spend the next few days hanging out, buying stuff to take home and generally relaxing in the city. Nothing could POSSIBLY stop us, yeah? NOTHING could stop us. Right?

*parp* Here's where things went down hill...

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After getting back to Nairobi we spent the first night in the hotel above the bus station. I had a single room with a small open window which wouldn't close properly. This was no problem until I woke up at 6am feeling sick. Down below in the street the coaches were all parked in front of the building with their engines running and the diesel fumes were wafting up and coming into my room. I was being gassed in my own bed and it was pretty horrible.

Anyway, that didn't give me the best of starts to the day and later on, as we moved out that place and back into the Orchid Hotel, I didn't feel up to scratch. I put it down to the extremely tiring journey from Tanzania we'd just had and getting poisoned by exhaust fumes first thing in the morning.

Later that day we had decided to go check out a Masai market across town to maybe find a bargain or two even though the Masai are renowned for being very stubborn with their prices and ruthless with their skills to rip you off. My headache wasn't getting any better. After a bit I decided that I might be dehydrated so I went and bought some water. Getting back to the market, I had lost Amy and Beth. I walked around for a bit seeing if I could spot them so I could tell them I wasn't feeling so good and was heading back to the hotel. Masai after Masai after Masai started latching onto me, trying to get me to come and see his stand and buy something and obviously never taking "no, thanks" as an answer. I told them I wasn't looking to buy anything but of course they didn't believe me. But holy crap, I really wasn't, I felt terrible! Plus I didn't have any money.

I decided to walk back to the hotel. My guts felt pretty bad and my headache was stronger. The sun was glaring, the streets were packed and I didn't know what was going on inside me. Upon arriving back in our room I went in the bathroom and practically exploded. It was pretty horrible to say the least. Imagine someone popping a water balloon full of dark custard... I hoped that would make me feel better and went and laid down but I was suddenly gripped by really strong shivers. I was in a hot room in Kenya in the middle of the day and I was freezing my arse off! Something wasn't right at all. I put on my fleece and curled up under the bed covers and even though I was still so cold I began to sweat really badly. Oh man. I then had to get up again and take another explosive shit.

Repeat this scenario about fifteen times and you can picture what I was like for a couple of hours until my sisters got back. Not only that but every time I got up to go blow my guts out in the bathroom my head pounded and my whole body ached more and more. Gah!

Amy and Beth were quite shocked to see the state I was in. Both said that I must have Malaria. I was sure it was something else. Looking back it's obvious I was becoming deluded with disease but at the time I was certain that it was just some little fever which would be gone by the morning. I told my sisters to let me sleep it off for one night and if I still had it tomorrow then I'd go get checked out. They both said something along the lines of "HELL NO!" and insisted I go get checked right now. Fortunately there was a pharmacist across the road from our place. I stumbled down there with Amy and Beth and sat in the waiting room, feeling crap. The doctor took some blood and told me to come back in an hour.

We bought some food from the sellers outside our hotel and I tried to eat but I couldn't. Not because I felt sick but because I was shitting so badly that everything seemed to pass through me in no time at all. THIS WAS HORRIBLE!

I decided to walk around the block a bit whilst waiting. It was very surreal, walking slowly around this area of Nairobi at night, the streets packed with people, everyone bustling about whilst I drifted along with a deadly disease breeding in my blood. Blurgh. This guy came over to us and for some bizarre reason wanted us to follow him somewhere so he could get his photo taken with us. See, this is typical of the sorts of things Kenyan guys might ask you to do. I don't know if something was totally lost in translation (even though he was speaking English) but I couldn't understand why the hell he couldn't understand why we might not want to do that. This kind of thing was frustrating in the sense that I just wanted to be able to see things from his perspective for just one moment to see what the hell he was thinking. If I was alone and not dying then I would be tempted to go along with him just to feed my curiosity over what he actually meant.

As it happens we just humoured him. My mind wasn't on much at that time. I told him we would get our pictures taken with him for 50,000 shillings and not a penny less. He gave up after a while.

At last it was time to go back and whadda ya know, yes, I had malaria. And not just any old malaria either. There's four types, you see, and I had the worst, known as Plasmodium falciparum. If you go untreated for more than 24 hours after the symptoms start then you will most likely go into a coma and die. I'm not even kidding. Check it out for yourself.

I would just like to take this moment to thank my sisters for forcing me to go get checked up rather than sleeping it off over night...

So yeah, the doctor sold me three pills. He said that I should take one a day and by the third day I should be sorted. He was a friendly guy and was extremely matter of fact with telling me what I had and how to stop it. I guess he'll be used to diagnosing malaria though. Back in our room I couldn't help but laugh at the situation. Here I was with a confirmed deadly virus in my body, heading towards shut down, on hour 12 of a disease that can kill in 24 hours and all I had to stop it from wiping me out were these three little pills. I sure hoped those pills would work otherwise it's lights out for Dave. It didn't seem real. Except for my shitting every twenty minutes. That felt real. Oh man.

THE NEXT TWO DAYS JUST MERGED INTO EACH OTHER.

I spent the whole time in that room, laying in bed, aching, sweating and shitting. The other two came and went throughout the day and brought me some food back each time but even though it tasted okay, it came out the other end within half an hour. The only good thing about this disease was that it wasn't making me throw up as well. If I'd had to choose between puking or shitting each time I went to the bathroom then it would have been a fair bit worse. My main concern right now was where the hell all this shit was coming from! I mean I wasn't eating anything, I was barely even drinking anything, but I was shitting as regular as clockwork. What the hell was going on?

Meanwhile, Amy was coming down with something. She had similar symptoms to me although not quite as bad. Of course, she went to the doctor and got checked but the test said negative. Therefore she couldn't get any treatment. Whatever Amy had was apparently not malaria although we had no idea what it was. Things weren't looking good either as Amy admitted she hadn't been taking her anti malaria pills regularly. Nor had I. Beth had and Beth felt fine! Blimmin' sensible Beth, making us look stupid!

Finally, on the day before we were due to fly out, I felt strong enough to get up and try walking around. Amy, however, was flat out in bed, piled high with blankets. Beth and I walked to the Muslim place we always ate and got some food. I ate very slowly, unsure what was going to happen to me. Would I puke everywhere? Or would I shit myself? It sure was exciting!!

As it happens, I felt a bit queasy but managed to hold everything down and walk all the way back to our room. Throughout that day I felt my strength coming back more and more. It was a good feeling and not a moment too soon. We were flying out the next day and I for one couldn't wait to get home. I even went to a few shops and bought myself two pairs of jeans and a pair of trainers. Each item cost me £6! An absolute bargain.

Amy, on the other hand, was feeling like utter shit. The poor girl had everything I had but wasn't getting any better. We were wondering how the hell we'd get her on the plane all the way back home. In the end we opted for pumping her up on anti-diarrhea pills (lovely, I know) and just going for it.

I wish, wish, wish I'd taken a photo of our room when we'd packed everything up to leave. Oh man, I feel sorry for whoever had to clean it. Even though we'd gathered all our stuff up the bin was overflowing with rotting fruit remains, general rubbish and my trainers which I'd dumped there as they had finally worn themselves out. The sheets (mine especially) were crispy with three days worth of feverish sweat dried into them. The floor was generally dirty from us having been walking about and the bathroom... holy CRAP! I don't even want to think about that place. FORSAKEN is a word that springs to mind. The whole place smelt of death. 

Well anyway, who cares, we were going home, baby! HOME, I TELLS YA!

I will tell you now, even though we didn't know it at the time, but Amy DID have malaria after all. She had a weaker strain (which is why she didn't die) but all the same symptoms that I had. Not only that but she had it for TWO WEEKS after we got home without anyone actually knowing what it was. Poor, poor girl. I just want to give her a great big hug. Blimmin' doctor not detecting it that night! Thank goodness it wasn't Plasmodium falciparum though.

To summerise the Malaria adventure I would just like to make a few points:

• 1) Beth took her anti-malaria pills every day without fail for the whole trip and was fine. Amy and I got lazy with them towards the end and we both came down with the horrible disease. There's a lesson to be learnt here, kids.

• 2) If my sisters hadn't been so assertive about me getting checked then I'd be dead right now. My sisters ROCK!

• 3) Being ill is shit. Like I said earlier, I'm basically never ill but this was a nice reminder as to what it's like. I hate it.

• 4) Luckily my immune system kicks SO MUCH ASS!!1! I got the most lethal form of malaria and with the help of three little pills I'd recovered in three days! BRING IT ON!

• 5) The cockiness in that last point was deliberately exaggerated. I don't want malaria again, please.

I was SO lucky that the Malaria started up when I was in Nairobi. Think about it. If I didn't have treatment within 24 hours of the symptoms showing then I would have gone into a coma. Now, imagine I'd got it whilst up Mt. Kenya! That's over a solid day's walk away from the bottom, never mind the nearest pharmacy which I expect is a heck of a lot further still. If I had got Malaria up Mt. Kenya I would be dead. The same goes for if I had got it in Wagasu, a village hours and hours drive from the closest main town.

But no, I got it in Nairobi (we had almost certainly caught the disease in Zanzibar) where we had a doctor's clinic directly across the road from us. Basically, I was a lucky bastard and I really do appreciate this fact, in case you were thinking that I took my recovery for granted. Malaria kills and I know this!

Wiki: Malaria

We walked to the taxi rank and after bartering with a few of the guys we chose the one who was least taking the piss. After seven long weeks we were now Kenyan experts and no one could rip us off ever again.

Driving to the airport was very strange. It seemed like such a long time ago that we'd arrived. I remembered getting here way back in June and looking out the taxi window, not knowing anything about this weird country we'd touched down in. Now I was looking out knowing exactly what this country was like with almost two months of tiring adventure behind me.

Poor old Amy was feeling rough as sin. Beth and I, however, were feeling great!

We rolled into the airport and thus, our journey home began; check in, baggage checking, waiting, lounge, flight, 5 hour wait in Dubai (I tried to fall asleep in some waiting area but just couldn't), check in, waiting, lounge, flight, Birmingham... HOORAH!

On the flight home it was so weird looking out of the plane as it was day time and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. I could therefore see the ground, 10km below, and for a bit of it we were flying over Iraq. Hours later I could see France, then the Channel, then England. I found it strange because sometimes you only think of places being on the TV rather than actually in a direct line from your country but flying from Iraq to the UK in one go made me realise that it wasn't even particularly that far away yet at the same time it was worlds apart.

Getting into Birmingham, getting all our luggage and then heading out the arrivals gate we were more than happy to see amongst all the people waiting, mum and dad! I don't think they've ever actually met us at the airport before as we'd usually have to get a train back home but this time our parents had gone all out and driven all the way down to Birmingham to pick us up which was very surprising and most welcome. I think that the fact that Amy was feeling so bad and that they knew I'd had malaria influenced their decision which is fair enough.

Driving back home along the motorway was brilliant. I was so tired. It was a glorious day with bright sunshine but the main thing that hit me was how amazingly flat and smooth the roads were. After travelling thousands of miles along the worst and most battered roads possible for two months you really appreciate being able to cruise along at 70mph without any bumps.

It's hard to describe what it's like when you get home after a long trip away to someone who's not done it before. All I can say is that in Kenya I'd put my mind in a different state, one that said "just get on with it" as going home was so far away, but now that I was back in our house it felt very strange. I guess it's because I had seven weeks worth of stuff in my head which hadn't been sorted out in my mind properly so on one hand I didn't have a proper sense of how much time I'd been away but on the other hand it felt like I hadn't been home in aaaaages. Whatever. This is hard to describe and sounds silly.

I will say this though: The English Summer is a fantastic thing to come home to. I kid you not.

Wiki: Etihad Airways

Reading back over everything I've written about our trip in Kenya (and damn, I've written a lot!) I realise that I sound very cynical about a lot of things.

I really don't want anyone to think that I am one of these people who goes somewhere that's different to what they're familiar with and can only criticise everything about it because it's not exactly the same as back home. I'm not at all. It's just that with Kenya so many things stuck out as being crazy, weird or just downright ridiculous.

I feel that I need to state a few things and justify some others.

• First of all, yes, it was very tough travelling with Amy, Beth and Elli for so long. This is not because of anyone's faults -they are all great people- but rather it is simply because a) they're all girls and b) two of them are my sisters. Surely over a seven week period of being crammed together for almost everything we did no one can blame anyone for getting really pissed off at times. It made a real difference when we were staying at places with other people with whom I had more in common i.e. Eddie, Francis, the Canadians on Mt. Kenya etc. When it was just me and the girls I really did miss just talking to people sometimes. This made everything seem harder.

• The mindset of so many of the random guys who would come over and start talking to us was extremely wearing after a while. I am very tolerant towards other people's beliefs, cultures and customs but one thing that will always be completely annoying and never fail to piss me off is plain old stupidity or at least things which appear to be stupid because they make no logical sense to me. The way so many people acted in Kenya, virtually always guys, was as baffling as it was annoying. Of course I understood that most of them were wanting to rip us off to get our money. That makes sense. What doesn't make sense, however, is the way that they went about it.

  The blatant con-men who don't even stop when you tell them that you know they're con-men, the guys at the matatu stops trying to sell me a hair brush and an Action Man and genuinely not understanding why I didn't want them, the way that a seller would offer you cigarettes and you'd say no so he'd move on and instantly another comes over and offers you exactly the same thing knowing full well you just turned down the last guy, the weirdoes wanting our addresses to write to us, the weirdoes claiming we were now best friends after ten minutes small talk, the real weirdo who came onto Beth when he thought she was my wife... I can't work out their thought process and that's what makes me angry with them. They quite simply MAKE NO SENSE! I would love to know how their minds worked and what they hoped that the consequences of their actions would really be. But alas, I feel that the mindset of many Kenyan men will be something I will never understand before the day I die.

• Kenya is also screwed up by its government. I admit, I don't know all the ins and outs of the country's entire political agenda but I did see, hear and read enough to get a good idea. Kenya's main newspaper is in English and I bought it a few times. Each edition has at least 50% of the stories revolving around corruption in the government. It's like the country is run by little kids, the way that these fat bastard politicians so blatantly fleece the country for their own personal gain so that they can buy yet another house or car or boat. And when you hear about other countries giving Kenya huge amounts of money for things like building roads and every penny of it disappears before a single stone is laid, it makes you kind of angry, especially seeing the poverty in which most of the country live. Poverty of which the majority could well be solved if only there was a better government in control with slightly better ethics.

• Despite my cynicism I know full well that not everyone in Kenya is an odd bod. I was fortunate enough to meet people like Eddie, Francis and all the staff at KWC and even just Diane, the web cafe girl who went out her way to help us for free, these are all excellent people who help to balance out the views of a country which otherwise seems rampant with conmen.

• Even if you still think that I am too critical, I believe that I have every right to criticise as much of Kenya as I want. This is because I have been there and done it all. I'm not one of these people who goes on and on about how bad a place is but hasn't actually been to it themselves. That's ignorance and that's stupid. I know a lot about Kenya, more than most people, I'm sure, which is why I can give first-hand, personal opinions on it which are fair because I've seen it with my own eyes.

I feel that I now know Kenya very well, inside and out. Whereas most tourists go to Kenya and spend their whole time on a safari, never leaving the safety of the park and staying in only the finest hotels here's a summery of what I and the girls did in our seven weeks...

• Went on safari
• Lived in a rural village miles from anywhere
• Lived in the cities
• Lived by the beach
• Saw the rich expats neighbourhoods
• Saw the slums
• Worked with AIDS orphans
• Stayed by Lake Victoria on the West
• Stayed by the sea on the East
• Stayed in a mountain town
• Climbed the highest mountain in the country
• Went snorkeling
• Travelled by matatus, buses, taxis, boda-bodas and the train
• Went into Tanzania
• Lived on an island
• Met real Masai
• Slept in guest houses, hotels, dormitories, tents and a mud hut
• Ate food from numerous markets and road-side stands
• Contracted the worst strain of a potentially fatal tropical disease
• Survived

That's a pretty impressive list if I may say so myself. I think we got pretty much the whole country covered one way or another there! Amy, Beth, Elli and I should be proud of how much we managed to fit into our time over there and the variety of experiences we had.

Would I go back to Kenya? Hmmm, well if you had asked me that when I'd just got home in July 2006 I would have said "NO FREAKIN' WAY!" However, since then I have thought about it a bit and I think that I would actually go back and might do it one day. However, this would be only to ride the freight trains and it would definitely be by myself. I feel like I've done and seen pretty much everything that Kenya has to offer (yes, I'm sure there's stuff I haven't seen but I FEEL like I've seen it all) but could see myself going back for a couple of weeks and trying my luck on the trains. This is the only thing that appeals to me about the place enough to go back, to be honest. Whether I actually do is another thing. Oh actually, I'd also go back to Wagasu and see Eddie again. He was a good guy.

One thing that Kenya did for me, if nothing else, was that it made me much more aware and much more appreciative of how well England works. It made me thankful to be living in a country with such a solid infrastructure where there is a system for everything and almost everyone has options and a voice. Yes, England does of course still have problems but compared to Kenya they're nothing. I said it before and I'll say it again, the ROADS are such a good example. Driving home in England along the super smooth, multi-laned motorways was such a definite contrast to the country in which we'd been living for the last seven weeks. Something as important to a country as a good road system has been totally shat on in Kenya simply due to people's greed. It would seem that the people in charge haven't a care in the world for the well-being of the country as a whole, just how much they can steal from it and at the same time just shrug their shoulders and pretend to be concerned about the constantly disappearing money.

Just so that it doesn't all look like bad news, here are some things that I liked about Kenya...

• The food is great and extremely cheap
• Although often uncomfortable, travel is efficient and again, very cheap
• Accommodation, like everything else, is very cheap and efficient
• Nairobi is actually a fun city and not nearly as menacing as the books would tell you, just as long as you keep your wits about you
• Lots of the people are indeed very friendly. It just tends to be the strangers in the city who approach you who are the dodgy ones
• A sleeper carriage on the train is a great way to cross half the country in one day
• Mt. Kenya is amazing! If you go to Kenya you HAVE to climb it
• After having spent so long in Kenya and having been immersed in the people there the whole time I feel much more street-wise and confident in regards to avoiding getting ripped off. Although I wouldn't have exactly called myself naive beforehand Kenya has definitely made me able to spot bullshit from a good distance meaning that my money stays in my pocket rather than ends up in the greasy hands of some con-man.

I would recommend Kenya to anyone who likes a challenge. For anyone who prefers all the comforts of home and for everything to be familiar and safe, stay far away from this country. Unless of course you just go and do a tourist safari trip or something.

And as much as I love them, I don't think that I will be travelling anywhere with my sisters again. I'm sure that the feeling is mutual (in the nicest possible way, of course).

So, we got home on Friday 21st July 2006 on a blazing Summer's day. The malaria which had been riddling my body only a few days earlier had completely vanished and wasn't the sort that reoccurs which is always reassuring. Amy, however, had a different strain of malaria for an amazing TWO WEEKS after we got back. No one even knew that it was malaria until she got another test. The doctor then gave her some medication and it got better within days. Poor, poor Amy. Well I guess that at least we can be thankful she didn't have the same type of malaria that I got otherwise she'd have been a gonner for sure.

As for myself, everyone I saw after coming back from Kenya told me how skinny I looked. It was slightly concerning actually because even though I knew that I'd lost weight in Kenya I didn't realise it was so much that even my face was looking gaunt! I have since set about solving this problem by eating like a king. PROBLEM SOLVED!

There, I think I'm done now. I hope you found that write-up interesting and informative. If you happen to be planning on going to Kenya yourself and want to know anything else then feel free to contact me!

Oh and for the record, this write-up was completed on April 1st 2007 meaning that it has taken me over eight months to pull my finger out and actually get it done. That has to be an all time record low for me so far.

Challenge Africa This is the charity that Amy and Elli set up after coming back from Kenya. I recommend you check it out.