Of out-of-the-way holidays that don’t conform to the norm

Holidays are what you make them be. You can choose to go with the crowd, and travel to the Coast for a week of beach fun and splashing in the ocean and taking silly selfies. Or you can go to Maasai Mara or Amboseli game parks and join hordes of tourists ogling at wild animals. 

I’ve done all that before but it’s no longer as fun as it used to be. The ritual of going to the rural village to join in the inevitable goat-eating spree is deemed obligatory with family. However, I can always go and see the folks after the Christmas-New Year euphoria has passed. 

I’m not big on crowds. 

Commotion and noise put me off. I have a rule; go on holiday where nobody else is going. Somewhere exotic, preferably remote. Away from the beaten track. 

Do an outing that is rewarding and meaningful. Where you learn something new that broadens your perspective. 

Imaginative

This country has many such places if only one is imaginative enough to find them. 

Years ago Lamu used to be one such place. Magical and isolated. But Lapsset is transforming it and bringing it mainstream, which I suppose is a good thing for the island archipelago and its inhabitants. 

Shimoni and Wasini islands located much further south of the coastline in Kwale remain sleepy and unspoiled. 

And full of intriguing old history. 

There’s a local legend that Wasini was long ago settled by the Chinese who reputedly intermarried with the locals before the Arabs landed on those shores in the 1st century A.D. 

I rather doubt the story. 

This so-called Chinese connection is attributed to the fact that many Wasini people are short, not tall. 

There are no cars, bicycles or carts on the island. Goods are transported by foot or wheelbarrow (aha, hustlers should go and see). 

Upcountry scenery

Upcountry, there are lots of other places that fascinate. Mfangano island in Lake Victoria is one such place. Way back, visitors would experience sailing there in a boat with a sail. It was all so quaint. Picturesque too. The boats were often overloaded with people and provisions destined for the islanders from the mainland. The island is home to the largest remaining population of Suba speakers in Kenya. 

Bicycles used to be the only mode of transport in Mfangano. Motorbikes were introduced much later, and afterwards cars. The first car to be driven on the island was in 2007. Reputedly in it was the then Cabinet Minister Simeon Nyachae. 

I bet only the truly adventurous have ventured to, or even heard of, Koobi Fora. That’s somewhere on the eastern shores of Lake Turkana. A driver we once had in the office used to tell us about the place, and of palaeontologist Richard Leakey’s exploits there digging up hominid fossils. 

The driver was a Gabbra, the people who live around Koobi Fora. A colleague and I thought of visiting the place once we took a fortnight off. The only caution our Gabbra friend gave us was not to expect five-star accommodation when we arrived. 

True, Koobi Fora had none of the creature comforts and conveniences Nairobi-based travellers look for. During our three-day stay there, we slept in modest quarters. 

The amenities were minimal and shared. The place festered with mosquitoes and is hot like a stove. The land is arid as far as one can see. Yet it was worth the visit if only because this was where a branch of our prehistoric ancestors once called home.

Archaeological site

Koobi Fora is basically an archaeological site. There’s also a museum and research centre. The site is now gazetted as part of Sibiloi national park, which edges into the Chalbi desert of Marsabit. Some new and fairly nice hostelries have lately come up in the vicinity. 

The searing heat will surely tempt the visitor to want to cool off with a swim in the inviting waters of Lake Turkana. Don’t dare. 

It’s full of crocodiles. Some communities like the Elmolo, who live next to the lake, fancy crocodile meat, but the Gabbra don’t. 

They live on livestock meat and milk. 

We made friends with some Gabbra herdsmen who showed us around and introduced us to their lifestyle. 

The taste of their boiled goat meat is heavenly. But it’s a harsh life nonetheless. 

The perennial droughts have decimated their cattle stocks. 

I spent Christmas quietly at home in Nairobi. Polishing up plans for a project I have in mind for this year. I had opted to pay my obligations to the rural relatives by going to the village pre-Christmas. 

Which rather caught them by surprise. 

Today, New Year’s Day, I’m at Kenol town just past Thika for a bash thrown by a cousin I grew up with who has settled there. 

There’ll be other cousins coming as well. It will be a happy occasion. A goat must die. And the conversations will be sublime. 

Far North

Once I’m back in Nairobi, it will be to prepare for my real adventure of this season. 

Because on Tuesday, a couple of my buddies and I are embarking on a grand 776 km journey to the Far North — by road. 

Terminating in Moyale, on the Kenya-Ethiopia border, with whimsical stops on the way. 

There’ll be stuff to pack which we’ll need on the trip, and the four-wheel-drive vehicle to tune up. 

Did I say I prefer my expeditions when others are done with their holidaying? Yea. 

A key person will be missing. 

“Pacing” is the codeword we use together. When I return, maybe a week later, all the cards will fall in place. 

Perhaps I’ll write about the road trip for this column. In another life, I’d probably have been a travel writer. 

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