Himaki
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Route
Himaki
We woke in Kebeneti in high spirits. Ahead of us, we had only a little over 100 total kilometers to Eldoret, including a nice run through the forest. As I put my backpack on, I felt a lot of pain. I asked Rocky to look at my back and lifted my shirt. With surprise, he exclaimed that it was completely red and blistered. The action of running with my pack had abraded patches of skin off my lower back. He offered to carry my backpack in addition to his and said we could walk if we had to for the day.
I declined. So far, we’d successfully solved for running in every problem that came up—fever, stomach issues, thorns, and foot blisters. Just because we were close to Eldoret now doesn’t mean we should only solve for walking. Solving for running always takes a little more thought and trial and error than walking. With patience and persistence, we’d figure it out.
Rocky suggested tightening my shoulder straps as much as possible to keep my backpack off my lower back. That helped but still rubbed some of the upper abrasions. I took out my knife and sleeping pad and cut a section the size of my backpack. I put it inside to create a padded back panel, and the solution worked! I was able to run without much pain.
We continued through the forest and passed some overweight Kenyan soldiers walking. In my army green bucket hat (thanks Amundsen), I got a nice ego boost running by with my full backpack.
We exited the forest onto a massive tea plantation. The tea fields looked even more like a screensaver than the rolling farm hills of days past. We saw no people for the first kilometer or so, which felt a little like the scene from Shrek when Donkey says, “It’s quiet. Too quiet.”
Eventually, we ran past the living quarters of the workers, then a small shop, and then an airstrip at the top of a huge hill. Whatever company owned this plantation, it was clearly a global operation. As we ran downhill, an 18-wheeler packed full of tea leaves whizzed by on the dirt road. We continued downhill for several kilometers until we found ourselves in a town at 1500m, the lowest elevation we’d been at since climbing out of the Rift Valley a week ago.
Immediately, we started climbing back up the next set of mountains, regaining all the elevation we had lost and more. We passed a sign that said, “No Child Labor.” That set off a funny chain of thoughts in my head. Kids do lots of work here. If their parents own the tea parlor, they will often serve the tea. At home, they share the responsibilities of house chores and farm work with their parents.
As we came over the crest of a hill, we saw a sign for a coffee cooperative, and the lightbulb went off in my head that this coffee farm must have gone through a fair trade certification process. It’s hard not to think that “fair trade” misses the mark when some tiny village on top of a mountain puts up a sign declaring “No Child Labor,” as if there’s a huge problem of children being conscripted into hard labor. I think the real problem would be kids not being able to go to school because of a lack of money for school fees. I have heard of a couple of rare cases when kids were taken out of school early to work on the farm. In that case, I wouldn’t condemn the family for child labor, but instead attribute the problem to poverty.
As we arrived at the top of a hill, we saw telephone poles holding the electrical lines. I’ve become attuned to noticing which villages have electricity and which don’t. On the other side, the landscape opened onto another gargantuan tea plantation. We came up to a factory and saw a sign for “Williamson Tea.” I asked the security guard for a factory store, thinking of high school history class when we learned about the textile industry in Lowell, Massachusetts in the 1840s with dormitories and factory stores for workers.
The security guard pointed down the road. We bought water, bananas, and bread. The kids erupted in smiles and laughter when they saw me. They ran from school and surrounded me at the shop. Rocky told me, “They just want to shake your hand. They’ve never seen a white person before.” Happily, I tried to shake every single hand. Each child giggled and ran away jubilantly from the handshake.
As we continued our run, Rocky asked what the tribal languages were in the USA. I realized he was referring to white people and explained that white people aren’t native to the US. The natives have a different skin color, and most of their languages are out of use.
I ran up one hill and, when I turned around, Rocky was gone. I sat in the shade under a tea tree and waited. He showed up after about 20 minutes. He hadn’t seen me turn and went the opposite direction at the top of the hill. I didn’t mind getting a bit of a break.
As we finished running through the tea fields, some kids joined us. One kid dashed down a side path between rows of tea trees, and you could just see his head bobbing. I couldn’t believe how fast he covered the heavily rooted ground.
We emerged onto a paved road and were greeted by another large group of kids. (Noticing a trend? Sub-Saharan Africa has the highest birthrate of any region in the world.) I remarked to Rocky that the people seem very good-looking here. All the kids we met had bright white teeth and looked healthy. The people were just as photogenic as these vibrant green tea fields. Rocky agreed after I started pointing out the kids running with us.
We followed the paved road into a town with plenty of street food and restaurants. We were excited to know we’d be able to eat well tonight. I got French fries, samosas, and a hard-boiled egg on the street. Then we got pineapple and chicken and potatoes for dinner. My sense is that chicken is a real treat here. I think it may even be more expensive than cow meat (which is all grass-fed). Not sure why that is.
From dinner, we got a hotel room near town. I started the night in bed but got very uncomfortable. Most mattresses in Kenya seem to have the consistency of a heavy pillow, and they rest directly on wooden slats. I’ve been able to feel the slats in every single Kenyan bed I’ve slept in. In the middle of the night, with much frustration, I switched to the floor. I continued to have trouble sleeping due to stomach issues.