The next morning we inquired about a ride back to Lodwar. Our hope was to go to Lodwar, catch a matatu to Kalokol a town on Lake Turkana. After some discussion and bargaining we found a ride to Lodwar in an old matatu. We left town about 10:30 a.m. arriving in Lodwar by 1:00 p.m. From Lodwar we did some asking around and found a ride on a jammed matatu and headed for Kalokol. It was a long journey. We found a place in Lodwar serving chips (fries) and soda. We have been eating very little or eating junk for days now. At Kalokol we found a little Guesthouse and rested, talking to the manager. The costs of these places vary but average around 600-700ksh per night for one room for Ben and me. That is about $7.50 per night. The proprietor discouraged us from eating in town. The town had no electricity and therefore clean storage of food was a problem. Instead, he offered to cook for us if we paid for the food. We gave him some money and he prepared green grams (lentils), rice and beans. It was very good and there was plenty. He also purchased 4 liters of clean drinking water for me. We walked around the town and then settled in for the night. The next morning we were to make the long walk to Lake Turkana – about 6 km from the town. So we walked and walked, finally meeting an old man who walked with us giving us the lowdown on the local scams. The lake was unimpressive but we passed some interesting Turkana villages. Passing one homestead, similar to Ben’s home, we saw a frail old woman seated on the ground, facing the door to a tiny hut. Ben’s face fell. He said she was seated there waiting to die. She was starving, unable to eat or unable to find food. There was nothing the family could do. It reminded him of his own grandmother’s agonizing death. She knew she was dying. The family knew she was dying. There was nothing to be done but to wait. After death, the body is simply placed in a hole in the ground by the hut. Nothing more. Turkana fear death and dead bodies. This is what was done with the child who died next door to Ben’s moms hut. Anyway, back to the old woman. Ben took some little money and went to the hut of the old woman’s family. He gave her some money for the old woman, who he discovered was blind. We walked away and for some distance in silence.
We continued to the lake, which was unimpressive, but for the fact that it was water in a barren land. In the states we are used to beautiful, picturesque lakes for recreation and sport. This place was for fishing and was dying, receding at a fast rate due to drought. The old man took us back to town by a shorter route, through small village after village. Once back in town we got a soda with some locals and booked a matatu to Lodwar. It was to pick us at the Guesthouse. Three hours later, it came, jammed with people. You open the sliding door and look in, doubting if another body can be jammed into the van. But, as they say, “A matatu is never full.” So we jammed in, not to be the last ones entering though.. We picked up others. At one point we picked up a high school boy who flagged us down. There was really no more room and he climbed on the roof. After ten minutes we pulled into a secondary school, picked up a mattress and a metal box filled with his belongings. All were loaded onto the roof, with the boy. We took off down this horrible road at speeds that scared me. At one point, we were passed by a group of soldiers in a truck. They made us stop, told the boy to get inside the matatu. He climbed in the back window (which was missing the glass.)
After about an hour of traveling we came near the town of Lodwar. We had watched dark clouds and lightning in the distant hills but had not gotten any rain ourselves. We came upon a small cement section/bridge of road that crossed the Turkwel River. It was flooded and water was waste deep as people struggled to get across on foot. The water was powerful and I prayed the matatu would not try to drive across. I had watched those videos of cars and people being swept away in rushing currents because they did not know the depth or did not have respect for the power of the water. The matatu would not cross – thank God. But we were stuck. If we did not cross into Lodwar, we would have to sleep on the ground along the river. Groups of people banded together and walked across through the rushing water. A pregnant woman needing to get to the hospital was escorted through the water by a group of teenage men. One young girl, a small infant strapped to her back and another 3 or 4-year-old boy in hand tried to make it across. I couldn’t watch. Their footing was weak. Thankfully a young man came from the other side of the river, hoisted the young boy on his shoulders and led the young girl and baby to safety. But we were still stuck. Benson fears the water and cannot swim. He won’t walk across. Finally the truck filled with soldiers we had come across earlier, decided to actually do something and were going to try to drive across the flooded river. As they began to move, we ran to them and asked to jump in the back. They motioned to move quickly and we jumped in the back and sat on their automatic rifles and pop bottles. I pulled out the video camera to capture whatever was to come. We entered the water at full speed and you could feel the water pull the truck from right to left. A man on the other side was motioning the driver to steer towards the right. We made it across to the cheers of the crown and to our relief. I didn’t like these soldiers. They sat while the pregnant woman crossed. They sat while the young girls and babies crossed. But I liked them a little more when we were traveling across the river with them and even more when they did not ask for some “appreciation” when we were safely on the other side.
We continued to the lake, which was unimpressive, but for the fact that it was water in a barren land. In the states we are used to beautiful, picturesque lakes for recreation and sport. This place was for fishing and was dying, receding at a fast rate due to drought. The old man took us back to town by a shorter route, through small village after village. Once back in town we got a soda with some locals and booked a matatu to Lodwar. It was to pick us at the Guesthouse. Three hours later, it came, jammed with people. You open the sliding door and look in, doubting if another body can be jammed into the van. But, as they say, “A matatu is never full.” So we jammed in, not to be the last ones entering though.. We picked up others. At one point we picked up a high school boy who flagged us down. There was really no more room and he climbed on the roof. After ten minutes we pulled into a secondary school, picked up a mattress and a metal box filled with his belongings. All were loaded onto the roof, with the boy. We took off down this horrible road at speeds that scared me. At one point, we were passed by a group of soldiers in a truck. They made us stop, told the boy to get inside the matatu. He climbed in the back window (which was missing the glass.)
After about an hour of traveling we came near the town of Lodwar. We had watched dark clouds and lightning in the distant hills but had not gotten any rain ourselves. We came upon a small cement section/bridge of road that crossed the Turkwel River. It was flooded and water was waste deep as people struggled to get across on foot. The water was powerful and I prayed the matatu would not try to drive across. I had watched those videos of cars and people being swept away in rushing currents because they did not know the depth or did not have respect for the power of the water. The matatu would not cross – thank God. But we were stuck. If we did not cross into Lodwar, we would have to sleep on the ground along the river. Groups of people banded together and walked across through the rushing water. A pregnant woman needing to get to the hospital was escorted through the water by a group of teenage men. One young girl, a small infant strapped to her back and another 3 or 4-year-old boy in hand tried to make it across. I couldn’t watch. Their footing was weak. Thankfully a young man came from the other side of the river, hoisted the young boy on his shoulders and led the young girl and baby to safety. But we were still stuck. Benson fears the water and cannot swim. He won’t walk across. Finally the truck filled with soldiers we had come across earlier, decided to actually do something and were going to try to drive across the flooded river. As they began to move, we ran to them and asked to jump in the back. They motioned to move quickly and we jumped in the back and sat on their automatic rifles and pop bottles. I pulled out the video camera to capture whatever was to come. We entered the water at full speed and you could feel the water pull the truck from right to left. A man on the other side was motioning the driver to steer towards the right. We made it across to the cheers of the crown and to our relief. I didn’t like these soldiers. They sat while the pregnant woman crossed. They sat while the young girls and babies crossed. But I liked them a little more when we were traveling across the river with them and even more when they did not ask for some “appreciation” when we were safely on the other side.
