Mother says I travelled to Senegal as an infant during one of her conferences. I have no recollection of that trip, so Kenya is my official first trip outside the borders of Uganda. It was so long ago and I scarcely remember the details. I believe I was 6 or 7. We moved from West Road to Flame Tree Close [which we privately called Togboa Close] when I was 7. I cannot recall if the move was before or after the trip or what time of the year we moved. The Kenya trip was during Easter. I remember thinking we were the luckiest family because we got to see strange lands while everyone else was stuck with matooke and beans. Now that I think about it, it must have been before we moved from West Road. It would not make sense for my parents to move to a new house and then leave it empty soon after. So I must have been 6. I was at that stage where I was deciding whether I liked dolls or balls. I had a brown bear, Mr Brown, who I carried around a lot. He came with us to Nairobi.
Before we left, I remember trips to the Sheraton to have our pictures taken for our new passports. I think my parents may have actually insisted that I sign my own passport, instead of using a thumb print, like most infants. We wore our blue and white sailor dresses, one of our best dress sets [Mummy had a tendency to dress us alike - I think it made shopping easier]. She got our hair combed, shoes cleaned and faces glistening with the glow that only vaseline gives. I remember being scared of adults. There were many of them, giving loads of instructions.
I do not remember the flight to Nairobi, or even the return. I am guessing we used Uganda Airlines - it would have been the prudent choice. Perhaps they gave us children's magazines and colours to play with. I remember the people at the hotel were very friendly. They kept smiling, opening doors, serving delicious breakfast. Breakfast was the main meal we had during family travels. You see, my parents are very rational when it comes to saving on travel expenses. The bed and breakfast are already paid for, so why not take advantage of it. Eat as much as you can. Carry away as much as you can too. Lunch and dinner were always negotiable. We never starved, but we all knew the money was better spent on transport and entertainment.
Speaking of transport, we walked a lot. Several years later, I heard tales of how dangerous Nairobi is and how daylight robbery is an actual thing there. My parents must have been ninjas to consider taking 3 children into that drama. We walked as far and as much as we could, well until Ivan got tired. A team is limited by its youngest pair of feet, after all. I remember going to see daddy's former university. At the time, the concept of university education meant nothing to me. I was even less aware of how impressive the University of Nairobi was/is. Sometimes daddy mentions things like the fresh cream from the Kenyan Creameries, or how they had washing machines on each floor or how each student was given all the resources he needed [books, linen, mattresses etc] at the government's cost. Of course, by '93/94 Nairobi University was nothing like the giant it had been in the 70s. Then it was the only place to go for engineers-in-training in East and Central Africa, just like Makerere had its Arts and Medicine while the Tanzanians had Law [it is quite fitting that Nyerere's people were tasked as the initial custodians of the laws of peace and order]. I remember tall dark [perhaps grey or brick] buildings.
That trip was a glimpse into Daddy's story of old. We met Uncle Jimmy and his Greek family. He was Ugandan then, later turned out to be South Sudanese. Daddy says a lot of them crossed over for education in the 60s and 70s. The family was delightful. I remember visiting a grand house, possible one of those leftovers from the colonial era. Uncle Jimmy was a classmate of Daddy's in the Soviet Union [Daddy refuses to say he studied in Russia. It was much bigger and grander than that during his time. Soviet Union seems more appropriate.] Sadly, I do not remember the girl or the mother's name. The boy, Kariako [might be spelt wrong] was curious to me. We had watched a cartoon with one of those silly tunes 'curiosity killed the cat'. This was before there were exclusive cartoon channels. One had to wait for the 2 hours of cartoons between 4 and 6 pm or pray that Mummy had passed by the only video library we knew of, at the Sheraton, miles away [or so it seemed] from home. Being little brats we switched the words and somehow it ended up as 'Kariako killed the cat.' He later went on to join the Greek army, to defend that great nation. So, perhaps he did get to kill that scheming cat after all. Uncle Jimmy is in South Sudan now. An important politician or minister or something of the sort.
Nairobi was kind to us. But it is also where I lost Mr Brown. I do not remember if it was in the hotel or the taxi. I remember we switched hotels. I do not remember why, perhaps something to do with the room arrangements. We always tried to have the kids bunched up in one room if possible, maybe pay a bit more for a cot for little Ivan. In any case, I lost Mr Brown. I do not think I have had a doll since.
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