Doomsayers are fond of making dire predictions that the new South Africa will go the way of the rest of Africa, as though the great expanse of land to our north is a only a huge cesspit of failed governments, nonexistent services, ruined economies, murder and mayhem and totally without redemption. It sounds just like one of my family reunions.
We returned at the weekend from a fortnight’s holiday in Kenya, in which time my wife and I travelled the south west of the country to visit the fabled Masai Mara reserve and the very beautiful Lake Nakura. Later we visited the reserves of Amboseli, virtually in the shadow of Mt Kilimanjaro, and Tsavo. Finally we headed for the beach between Malindi and Mombasa where we stayed for four days with an expat South African and her Kenyan partner.
Nairobi is a very large African city, in better condition than, say, Dar-e-Salaam or Maputo, displaying the whole gamut of human endeavour – from the massively wealthy to the poorest of the poor, with rich suburbs and poor suburbs, the teeming roads containing every car from the latest Beemers to opgeboggered jalopies.
We stayed in a good hotel in a smart area, where service and everything was top notch. We were travelling with a friend who was attending a conference at Nairobi university. In absolute contrast to us, she stayed in a B&B off Fig Tree road, a very dodgy part of town. Yet she could only sing praises of the endless friendly help she received from staff, taxi drivers and strangers in the street.
Impression No 1: There are a very large number of people living in East Africa. The roads, shops and roadsides are thick with a never-ending press of traffic and humanity. South Africa, by comparison, is quite sparsely populated.
The 250km journey by Hi-Ace from Nairobi to the Mara took six hours – perhaps twice as long as here – because of heavy traffic, police checkpoints and long queues for petrol. The last 70 km was on bad dirt road – no worse than a Transkei dirt road, but longer.
It didn’t help that the van’s shocks had seen better days, and the driver jokingly said: “It’s called a Kenyan massage. It’s free!”
Impression No 2: Tourism is the jewel in Kenya’s crown. Everybody knows it. The tourism machine is well oiled and milks the foreign visitor as much as possible.
It was a shock to have to pay US $100 – R1 000 – per person per day to visit the game reserves. Kenyans pay R60 a day, much like SA’s fee of R50 for locals. The Americans, Australians and Brits pay without blinking, so I think we need to catch a wakeup. We charge foreigners the princely sum of R204 a day. It could be raised a lot.
Let me add that the game viewing there is stunning. The wide open grasslands stretch out on all sides with wave after wave of wildebeest, zebra, giraffe, lion, buffalo, rhino, gazelle and a raft load of birds. Highlights were watching a coven of hyaena cavorting about, adults and cubs, in broad daylight, and a hippo with its four-day-old calf.
But, you know, we have all that just up the road at Umfolozi-Hluhluwe at a fraction of the price.
Impression No 3: Kenyans don’t blame others for their mistakes.
Kenya has a vibrant and powerful press which reports extensively on politics and society. The locals devour the big three English language national papers – Daily Nation, Standard and Nairobian – which together sell 500 000 copies a day or more.
They cover every topic under the sun but not once did I read of anyone trying to blame the colonial past for the country’s mistakes. There is regional rivalry and I gather, inter-tribal rivalry, but nobody was saying “It’s all Britain’s fault”. They got their independence 50 years ago and they’ve moved on. They’re more concerned about spending money in education and fighting corruption. And they’re not interested in socialism.
Impression No 4: It’s good to be home. There’s hope for us yet. If we can learn from the example set by our East African brothers, we have a future filled with promise.
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A guy is sitting at home alone when he hears a knock on the front door. When he opens the door, he finds a policeman. The policeman asks if he is married and, if so, whether he can see a picture of the wife.
The guy says “sure” and shows him a picture of his wife.
The policeman looks carefully at the picture and then gravely says, “I’m sorry sir, but it looks like your wife’s been hit by a truck.”
The guy says, “I know, but she has a great personality, is an excellent cook, and lets me play golf whenever I want to!”
