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When we left the hotel, it was pitch black. Our driver, Ali, stank of alcohol. Being that it was still the early hours, I drifted in and out of sleep, only being woken occasionally by the shining torchlight of armed soldiers as we stopped at makeshift roadblocks. Roads were barely that. Every one had a million potholes, making the 6 hour journey inland both long and quite sickening.
Visiting Kenya was without doubt my first true culture shock. Not before had I seen poverty in such vivid terms. Sure, i’d watched countless reports and appeals on TV. But nothing prepares you for the sight – only yards from your bus window – of a young child desperately holding up an empty, broken cup, with no hope of it being filled. No one forgets their first 20 minutes in Africa.
