Misja Turkana

Misja Turkana

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About ten years ago I got from my dad a book, actually not such a simple book only album, Peoples of the World. For beautiful photographs of reporters watched the National Geographic World, which now I see with my own eyes. Turkana, Samburu, freshly baked student of ethnology, these words were almost magically. Nearly a decade later, I was able to pass some of that magic to Adam and thus get him to difficult and long detour in the direction of, which promised adventure, but certainly not to the house we approached. Thus Turkana mission, or go north with the intention of reaching Lake Turkana where people live, who are proud of who they are and their culture not yet turned to Facebook and YouTube.


Almost as if to emphasize the seriousness of the situation, we learned , that cross the equator. It was not easy to decide which of the information boards is actually the width of the zero, because similar plates have become almost at every gift shop and restaurants for tourists on a stretch of several kilometers. Fortunately, help in selecting the correct technique, GPS or even sympathetic British sympatyczniejszym LandRoverze. Cramps, We have a soft spot for the old SUVs… No nothing, yet must suffice our LandRowery ;)


For those who are wondering where we came out of that remarkable moment will suggest, that in the town of Nanyuki overlooking the western slopes of Mt Kenya, the highest mountain in Kenya. This over pięciotysięczny extinct volcano is almost as whimsical as its more famous sister Kili. One and one is hard to see, because for most of the year, thick clouds hide them. Please take a closer look ;)


The further away from the equator the stricter doing landscape. Gold and green acacia savannah displaced cacti, sisal and various other kłujki, which wreaked havoc on our equipment. At one point we counted on Adam mattress 16 holes!



Welcome to the real Kenya! - Greeted us with a policeman on duty behind Isiolo. Ot so! - Thought –Eventually! Please ye in Archers Post reported on the local station, well? Why, if there is a problem? Not at all, no worries. It's just a precaution, for your own good. We knew, northern Kenya that it is not the safest place in Africa. There have been kidnappings of tourists by al – Shahab - fundamentalist Islamists in Somalia, but among other things, for this reason, Somalia, Kenya terminated war and since then the situation has substantially improved. Still remained the question of tribal unrest between the Turkana and Samburu herdsmen. In the difficult, semi-arid climate, it is difficult for water and pasture, So at least a few times a year that it's a struggle for territory and organized theft of cattle. Through illegal weapons coming into Kenya from war-torn neighboring countries, these conflicts are unfortunately very bloody. When the shepherds are not fighting with each other they use a weapon to "pull" from crossing their cars eating areas, money and whatever else they can. Okay, does not sound good, I admit, but spent longer central Africa, hence is not easily withdraw.

We checked in at Archers Post, police say, in the area that has long been quietly, so we went further. Moments later we were driving the most beautiful road in the world, and at least in Africa, and certainly in Kenya ;) Nowiusień the asphalt, no cars, landscape breathtaking and animals crossing the road.


Despite numerous warnings rode an elephant, but it is the way we crossed a number of baboons, some as big as German Shepherds, various antelopes, gazelles, strusie i wielgachne żyrafy. Soon after, we began to understand, despite the charming landscapes life here is a real struggle for survival. Dry river, land burned by the sun, Kamole and spikes. Nothing that you can eat here will not grow, not so popular in Kenya corn on habit, or beans, or even potato. And even as it grows wither, because in spite of the rainy season, the water simply does not. Not like in Guinea, that need to be applied in the village next door, Here in the village next to it it does not exist. Once every few kilometers away is the pump, but no one here does not have a car, or even to bring her bike. What are happier ass and makeshift car and once in a while bring back some for cooking. Cattle must deal with puddles in the dried river troughs, like herding them cope children. Weaker art pigs fall from hunger and thirst, cattle as it rains people do not have milk, as there is no milk, nothing to eat, and that is where the battle, This for survival and that of water and cattle neighbor.


The difficult living conditions have made the Samburu, by which the sites just drove, proud and not very friendly to strangers. Do not hit on us like almost everyone in southern Kenya, not interested in them how we, where we are, or where we're going. In general, few of them been interested. Jewelry festooned women, girls with breasts przykrytymi only beads, men with daggers at the waist and hair erased mud, everyone was looking at us from the bull and passed in silence. It is not surprising. For these colorful bikes were going to town on the Coca-Cola and dinner with meat. They and we come from different worlds, and no amount of smiles and kind gesture on our part will not change. Only kids were screaming for us: Whites, water!, or water. What could it be divided, but those of us who do not get their frustration expressed shaking our traditional daggers and stones.


In the end we got to town, somewhere in the middle of the road to the lake. Supplemented water supplies and collected for further driving. Even before we left on the road two policemen stop us. They said, that we can not continue to go on bikes, unless, that will accompany us armed escort. The idea is not to our taste fell and as usual tried-talk by talking about their travel dreams, and that in general we have to go, and we do not want any escort, unless it will go on bikes. Hear, you can not stop, But understand, as there are police, you are completely defenseless, and they have machine guns. How do you access a stop in the bush that you and everything will take, all.


Well it was hard to argue with that. We went to the school to ask for a tent for the night. We had to think about what to do next. Headmaster of the local primary school received us very hospitably, but from a distance. We assigned one of the old classes and how much we want to be allowed. In the morning we decided not to go further, but it is to be a few days in town. Skolegowaliśmy of young teaching staff, which gave us an invaluable source of knowledge about the history and customs of Samburu, and we rewanżowaliśmy the stories about Poland and Europe. The town also began to look at us a little friendlier. The woman in the couple of times we bought bananas, peanuts and marshmallows mint unless we even liked, a girl with whom I stołowaliśmy at the end gave us free refills of tea with milk, so it's probably a sign of sympathy. However intransigent were young warriors. When a boy reaches Samburu elders think appropriate age comes the time for its initiation. Is circumcised and wyskaryfikowany and during treatment he may not even blink would not show weakness. After initiation, the boy becomes a warrior. Today it is mainly, that hang on his shoulder and begin to look for a Kalashnikov wife. This short time bachelor gives young men the opportunity to show their best side, rather, as the most beautiful pages. Muddy guard hair, feathers, studless, earrings, necklaces and bracelets is small lustereczko often attached to the wrist like a great watch. It's hard to resist the impression, these decorations are just so on holidays, either on a show for tourists. Only here there are no tourists, and the feast of the gearing none. These Pościągają how to marry a visual artist, preferably with a girl below 10 years. After that, you can only modest earrings and a dagger at his belt. Many of them revolve in the market or near school and gave us a look at, but never alone did not approach. Proud and haughty face leaning on his pastoral sticks. But we can not hide our fascination, So as we once one of them is called we came bounding. We talked for a while in sign language and guesses, then our interlocutor showed, that we can no longer be dismissed. Well, anthropological cheek. But the next day the same militant Samburu came to us as we drank our daily portion Aju with milk and without the slightest krępacji made us a photo of your mobile phone. From word to word, or rather, from gesture to gesture, we also reached our equipment. They were not happy, but Adam explained to them, that it will be fairly.


It was time to go back. We did not get to Lake Turkana. We could say, that the mission was not successful. But do not worry, to be continued :)