It's HAMAR Time!

I was so glad to be heading for the Ethiopian border after a long drawn out debacle at the Ethiopian embassy, who seem hell bent on stopping people entering their country and spending money there! Clearly they have enough already! Still - perseverance prevailed and we got there in the end! Heading towards the border from my last stop at Archers Post, I got a What's app from Chris and Erin. I had met these guys at the last campsite in Nairobi and we found we had a lot in common. Not only were we heading in the same direction, albeit they were in a Land Rover, but they were also bikers who had ridden around the world together as a team many years before. They had gone with another couple (Rob and Emi from Holland) on the Tracana route a few days before but sadly Rob and Emi lost control of their vehicle on the gravel and found themselves rubber side up a long way from anywhere! Thankfully noone was hurt, the car was recovered and they all made it over to Henry's campsite just south of the border. This is where I caught up with them all.

The Samburu Tribe

I woke at 5am to the sound of beautiful singing. It was clearly tribal and I could tell that something

was going down in Archers Post! Perhaps a wedding? Maybe a religious event? I lay in bed listening for half an hour before dragging myself into the shower (or the trickle of cold water, but a luxury nontheless) and washing off the weariness after a half-sleep night thanks to another mosquito torture session (I really must get more coils!). The singing continued as I headed out to meet Eric for breakfast. Eric grew up here, living off the land in one of these peaceful Samburu tribal villages in Northern Kenya. Yesterday we met so he could show me around. He helps to run the Samburu Project, a community run charity set up to help the local tribes with basic human needs like sanitation, education and especially fundraising for more wells. I was introduced to this project through Rally4Life - a charity some of you have donated to during my trip - so I was keen to see the work they do and the difference they make to the communities of this magical place.

The Dorm of Doom!

One of the worst things about being British is that many of us are cursed with the ‘over polite gene’. Oh it’s all very well if you are born state side (come on! You know who you are! J ), but for us Brits, there is nothing worse than trying to remain selflessly silent during long dark nights of social sleeping arrangements - especially when you are dealing with a mischievous, selfish and unyielding mosquito! 

I optimistically pull the mozzie nets over the bunk early. I have another guest tonight and that makes it far worse when an attack happens. It’s bad enough that the bed creaks every time I move (of course I will lie uncomfortably for hours before I allow another creak to MAYBE disturb my fellow snoozer) but killing a mozzie at midnight is not a silent affair. When he comes to visit, like he has done every night since my tent leaked and I entered the dorm, I will have no other defences than a one handed clap, a swift swipe and a whispered curse. Frankly, this is just not enough!

I block all obvious exits and tuck myself in. Podcast on, skin covered…and sleep!