Mombasa

In September I went to regional meetings in Mombasa, located on Kenya’s beautiful Indian Ocean coast. Over the years these meetings have taken place in other countries (Zimbabwe, Tanzania, NY, etc.) and this year I was quite happy to remain close to home – a one-hour flight from Nairobi.

the hotel

The hotel was located on the coast, next door to a hotel where we have stayed on a couple of occasions. At first glance it was a decent hotel but nothing special. However over the course of a couple days I began to realize that it was cooler than I thought. It was, without a doubt, the most ecofriendly hotel I’d ever stayed in. It was set up to harvest and recycle water, produce its own electricity from the sun and store it in an elaborate battery system, grow most of its own food with processes to avoid food waste, etc. Very cool.

At these meetings it’s always good to connect with my peers who do the same job in other countries around East Africa. We all seem to get along well and we pick up where we left off from the last time we were in the same room. We’ve obviously had some turnover throughout the past few years but the core group has been around for some time.

On the Tuesday evening we were treated to an evening excursion on a boat in the waters around Mombasa. It’s something I’d never done before and I wasn’t sure what to expect except that it was going to be on an old, wooden dhow boat. I was happy to find out that lobster was one of the options, grilled right on the ship. The trip lasted a little over a couple hours. Good music. Full moon. Perfect weather. Really a nice evening.

The week consisted of the usual onslaught of meetings with very little personal time. To make matters worse, the pool closed at 6pm making it basically unusable to us in the evening hours. As a result, by week’s end I had not touched the pool nor the beach as I boarded the taxi to return to the airport. I suppose it’s sad to spend so many days in such a beautiful place without much of an opportunity to take advantage of it (I did hit the gym a couple times). Maybe next time.

Attack on city hall

Back in February I posted about a meeting I had with the Mayor of Mogadishu (the meeting was in January). It was a special opportunity for me for a number reasons, some of which I mentioned in the blog entry.

He really seemed like a nice guy and he gave me the impression that he was very sincere in his efforts to lift up one of the world’s most troubled cities. I saw him a few times after that, including the UK Queen’s birthday event at the British embassy in the protected airport area (now called AAIA). We had a short conversation about durable solutions for Somalis and I told him again how much I appreciated our discussion earlier in the year in his office.

on national TV

Soon after that event we would leave on vacation. A few weeks later, while we were still in Indiana, I received a Whatsapp message from my security coordinator alerting me to an attack at the Mogadishu city hall. The mayor had been seriously wounded in a suicide attack. The bomber was a blind woman who had been employed at city hall for several months working on a disabled access program. The suicide vest was hidden under her clothing and she was apparently not screened coming into the compound (which I find odd given how thoroughly I’m screened when I go through). Apparently her family has deep ties to Al-Shebab. The UN Special Envoy to Somalia, who is also a friend of mine, had met with the mayor previously and, though he was long gone before the bomb went off, he likely was also a target. The mayor was apparently flown to Doha for his life-threatening injuries and finally passed away Aug. 1.

I was a bit stunned. First and foremost was the loss of a good man as well as several others who were in the room. Secondly, it’s sobering to know how many places I go are attacked at some point. The chances of me being in an attack aren’t that great but it does make you think. I was in a meeting yesterday here in Mogadishu with a Somali who was born and raised in Turin, Italy. He’s part of the business diaspora who has come back to invest in the country. I asked him how his family, now Italian, feels about him being in Mogadishu. He said, “You know, there’s a fine line between bravery and stupidity. My family’s trying to figure out where I am on that line.”

Idaho

The first priority for our travel to Idaho was to, obviously, hang out with family. Which we did. But we also had a few other things to accomplish. The plan at the outset was to spend a brief amount of time in Boise and head to the mountains as soon as possible. There are always competing priorities/expectations during these visits and you just have to navigate them the best you can.

After two nights in Boise, we headed north.  

McCall

Our first stop was the campground where the family was already set up and where our base would be for the next few days. One of the first things we needed to do was to visit some properties. We had been in touch with the real estate agent prior to the visit and he had arranged for us to see a few places, each one quite different but all within the general vicinity of the small town of New Meadows. One of the properties was one that we had seen in Dec./Jan. when we were in Idaho for the holidays. After seeing what else was on the market, we were still leaning towards that same place. We didn’t make a decision at this point but, at least for me, it was becoming clearer that this unfinished house on 16 acres was the most in line with what we were looking for. An unfinished house with some land that gives you the opportunity to give it your own identity. But we would wait a bit and give ourselves some time to discuss and reflect before making any decision.

my brother's work in progress

We also took a break and visited my brother’s house in a small town not far away called Council. He’s been refurbishing it for a couple years, heading down a similar path we are looking to head but with different starting point. His house is older and is more about being redone than being done.

beautiful piece of land

There are several hot springs in the area, some of them more developed than others. A couple of them have swimming pools and my brother took us to one that I hadn’t been to before called Starkey Hot Springs. 

Starky Hot Springs

It’s an old place that apparently was frequented by native Americans going back a couple hundred years. As was unfortunately common, the native population blended with, and was eventually pushed out by, early settlers to the area. By the early 1900s, a man named Richard Starkey decided to create a "true health and pleasure resort". And so it has been for over a hundred years.

It was indeed enjoyable and I suppose it contributed to health as well though you certainly couldn’t swim laps in water that was so hot in some places you could make tea with it. But it’s nestled in a beautiful location and the simple, rather rustic setting gives it a particular charm.

at the campground

Back at the campground, more family arrived by the end of the week. It should be noted that this is not really camping but RVing. We pitch a tent but a lot of the family is set up in fancy RVs with microwaves. It’s nice but it’s not really camping. It’s one of the reasons that I wanted to institute a backpack trip and risk getting our fingernails dirty.

Duck Lake

Last year we restarted backpacking. Priya and I have done it as a couple in the past but we hadn’t done it since our daughters arrived on the scene, partially for my own personal interest and partially to expose the girls to something that has been important to me since I was young. The idea last time and this time was to keep it short and simple. We wanted it to be fun and not too arduous such that the girls would retain a desire to do it again in the future. Regardless of whether or not they take this up as a lifelong hobby, it should continue the trend of providing them with some diverse experiences and cherished memories, particularly given the very different, urban environment where they are being raised in East Africa.

My brother-in-law and sister, who were part of the excursion last year, provided some hike options based on our criteria of being short, likely a lake destination, and in the vicinity of the McCall area. I had done some looking online as well and we eventually honed in on a place called Duck Lake. We felt we had a fairly high bar given how well the trip worked out last year, but in the end it met, if not exceeded, the experience from last year. My niece and boyfriend joined in so we were a group of eight – a good size for an outing like this.

The hike itself was slightly longer than last year but it wasn’t grueling. It afforded us the luxury of packing some things that we wouldn’t have for a longer trek. I’ve done some longer trekking where you scrutinize every ounce of weight in the backpack. This was not that.

There were several highlights but one of the things that stayed in my mind was the view of the stars before going to bed. Without the ambient light coming from populated areas, the night sky was stunning.  Obviously you need to stay up late to have this experience given that the area is basically right on the 45^th parallel – the halfway point between the equator and the north pole. I think the last time I saw that many stars, albeit different stars, was the southern hemisphere sky near the Kenya/Tanzania border (near the foot of Mt. Kilimanjaro in Amboseli National Park).

It was also just great to see the girls dive into the backpacking experience. They know the drill and they seem very much at home in the woods. Makes me happy.

The Magic Valley

Once we’d had our fun in the mountains, it was time to head down, travel to my parent’s house and slowly begin thinking about what we needed to do before heading back to Nairobi. The drive to Kimberly is fairly long (about four hours), but it’s generally quite easy, at least compared to driving in Kenya. The roads are wider and better maintained. Drivers are more predictable (and better skilled). I quite enjoy it but it does require a certain amount of preparation for those passengers who seem to enjoy it less.

Snake River canyon - quite impressive actually

We settled into my parent’s house which is quite comfortable and peaceful. For me it’s one of the most relaxing places I know. Though our vacations in the US are generally not relaxing by nature, this is an exception.

One activity that we attended was the local fair in the town of Jerome, the place of my birth. We’ve done this a few times and for some reason it’s always been a hit with my family. This year we started by taking in the local parade. This is a pure slice of Americana (and about half the people are Latino). I suppose we enjoy it at least partially because it’s somewhat exotic to us. It’s hard to explain to people but, speaking for myself, after nearly a quarter of a century living outside of my native country, I almost look at American culture as an outsider does. As such it’s easier to romanticize certain things (likewise it’s easier to be annoyed by certain things).

The parade consisted of a couple of marching bands, cheerleaders, floats, large farm machinery, vintage cars, etc. There was a float of the local football team wearing their jerseys. Ah yes, America still does this exact same thing forty years after I did it and seventy years after my dad did it. These guys tried their best to look tough, failing just as we did.

What we didn’t have back in the day were escaramuzas, charros and mariachis. This influence in the parade is not huge compared to all the other entries but I found it particularly fascinating. A charro is a Mexican cowboy (escaramuza is the female version) and they showed off their interesting riding style (a sort of dance in place as the horse gradually turns). I had to look it up but the style is rooted in the concept of needing to navigate the horse in tight spaces within large groups of cattle. Today, however, the riders practice in an arena and there are rarely cows involved. The saddle is a throwback to the those used when roping and herding cattle and are often quite heavy with large pommels. They are now decorated with silver and are generally quite colorful.

Another observation was how much stuff the parade participants tossed and/handed out. It was insane. I remember a few sweets being tossed to us when I was a kid but our girls hauled in several pounds of candy, plastic balls, a frisbee, several toothbrushes, floss, bags, water bottles, yogurt and so forth. Early in the parade children were elbowing each other to grab every little piece candy that hit the pavement but by the end kids barely bothered to pick them up.

 The next day we went to the fair. We started by visiting the various animal pens: goats, rabbits, sheep, cows, horses, pigs, etc. It was interesting describing to the girls that the animals were cared for by children, some of them their own age (4H). That they have competitions to see who does the best job of raising and grooming these animals and than you show them in a ring as a part of the competition. For children raised in East Africa, it’s a rather strange concept. In Swahili the word for animal and meat are the same. Tells you a bit about how animals are perceived.

Before going to the rodeo, we first needed to eat something. We stopped at the food stands and would need to choose from the many unhealthy options available. For those that say most of America’s obesity problem is genetic or glandular, they need to visit a county fair. That’s not to say there aren’t tasty options. There are. In fact the smells coming from the various food stands are almost intoxicating. But I think some of the farm animals had healthier diets.

The rodeo was great fun as usual. The summer evening was warm and the sunset was beautiful. It’s just a fun atmosphere in general. 

Idaho sunset

 Soon we would be heading back to Boise and running our final errands. After a month of travel, we were ready to head home to our routines. Great trip but it was time.