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When we left the hotel, it was pitch black. Our driver, Ali, stank of alcohol. I’d wake occasionally in the vibrating 4×4 to the shining torchlight of armed soldiers who had set up roadblocks. Roads were barely that. Every one had a million potholes, making the 6 hour journey inland quite sickening. Children and families would wave in unison as we passed – their smiles were incredible.
Kenya was without doubt my biggest culture shock so far. I had never seen poverty or suffering like it before – except maybe on TV – and that was naturally distant. The whole concept therefore inevitably became a lot more real when it was just outside my bus window, in the form of a young child desperately holding up an empty, broken cup, with no hope of it being filled.
