The 2021 Africa Journals, Chapter 12: In Which Persistence, Patience, and Pleading Prevail

 

Chapter Twelve:

In Which Persistence, Patience, and Pleading Prevail

 

Sometimes I wonder if all this is happening because I didn't forward that email to 10 people.-Unk. 

 

 

    As the saying goes, "if I never again see the OR Tambo International Airport in
Johannesburg, South Africa, it will be too soon."

     Why?    I suspect that is where Murphy and his obnoxious Law reside when it isn't hanging onto my coattails.

    Getting to Johannesburg the first time was necessitated because Kenya Airlines canceled our flight to nearby Zimbabwe from Nairobi, Kenya, which was where we would make a less than two hour drive to Botswana.   The ticket agent area in the Nairobi airport is like a large cattle hall with few places to sit and no amenities other than a restroom.   No place to get some water to a bite to eat.   Not even vending machines.

    If you leave to go to a nearby cafe, you must take all your luggage with you and of course there is no safe place to leave that luggage other than crowded up against your mini-table like everyone else.  Then it's back through security to get into the airport. 

    Marg stayed up all night trying to get us new tickets to get to Botswana.   Those necessitated  flying way south to Johannesburg, over-nighting, then back to Botswana.  We rearranged our plans to make the flight, new Covid-10 PCR test results in hand.  Turns out, the Kenya airlines agent who made the reservations forgot one important step on his end and the reservations (all paid for) never got into the airline's computer system.

    Marg had all the documentation proving the tickets were valid, but it still took way more than an hour for the airline to validate them before we could check in and get rid of our big bags.

 

                                                We really puzzled over this sign.

 

    Now, here we were in Johannesburg again after flying there when our safari in Botswana was completed.   We once again over-nighted at the City Lodge which is in the airport.   The next morning we had a leisurely breakfast in their dining room and made our way down a loooooong concourse to the main terminal.

 

        We went looking for the Kenya Airlines ticket agents and couldn't find them. By this time, we were in Terminal 2.  According to our information, we were to leave from the A gates in Terminal 1, so we went back to the terminal 1 area.   There, Marg discovered  that although we would indeed leave from Terminal 1, we had to go back to Terminal 2 to  get our boarding passes.

 

 

 

 

    Another long walk back to Terminal 2.   By this time, my knee was on fire and I was looking forward  to previously-reserved wheelchair assistance.  We looked and looked and could not find any signs for Kenya Airways.  Finally, we asked a porter for directions.  "I will show you," he said and marched ahead of us while I limped and Marg pushed our heavy luggage cart.

    In less than a hundred feet, the porter stopped at the health check station and we produced our PCR test results and passports.  A few more steps and there were the Kenya Airways ticket counters, tucked around a vertical support column and out of sight.

    We lined up between the stanchions.  The line moved quickly and the porter began unloading our bags when we reached an agent.   Since all he had done was walk ahead and let Marg push the cart, I offered him a dollar.   He sniffed, avoided my eyes, and said, "Ten dollars would be good for me."

    Robbery!!!   I had no money smaller than a $20 and I sure wasn't going to give that to him.  Meanwhile, Marg was going through some kind of trouble with the ticket agent about our reservation as well as asking for a wheelchair for the limping old woman with her.

    All of this went on for some time, with the porter standing there waiting for his plunder and avoiding eye contact.   I asked Marg if she had any small money and eventually she gave the robber-in-uniform $10 and sent him on his way.   She told me to go sit in some chairs nearby that were reserved  for wheelchair people.

    On and on it went with the ticket agent for about an hour.   Finally, Marg got our boarding passes, the wheelchair people came for me,  and off we went through security and to our gate.   I did, however, drop my passport when we were going through security.   Another passenger picked it up and gave it to me.

    Sometime later, while we were on the plane, I noticed two things:

    1)  My right hearing aid was gone!   I think I know exactly when I lost it.   It was when I was waiting for the wheelchair and took off one face mask to put on another.   The small wire that goes over the ear got tangled up in the mask's elastic ear strap and it flew off into a black hole.   I'd caught one aid or the other several times previous, so I realized how it was lost.  I never found it.

    2) There were two duct tape patches on the wing of the airplane.

 

    Marg awoke from a short nap and said, "Is THAT duct tape?"    Sure looks like it to me, I responded.

    Eventually we reached Nairobi and I almost had heart failure when I couldn't find my fabulous water bottle from Great Plains Explorer camp.   As Marg was pulling my heavy camera bag down from an overhead bin, the bottle fell out of a side mesh pocket.   Saved again.

I was more upset about the thought of losing that water bottle than about losing the hearing aid,

    We were once again met by a lady who whisked us through all the pandemic and passport and health surveys and QR code stuff.    Soon--well, no one gets anywhere in Nairobi "soon" because of the traffic and road construction-- we were checking into the Tamarind Tree hotel.

 

 

 

 

We met downstairs in the outdoor restaurant that evening with Laura and Marion, as well  as  Jason Fernandes of Wilderness Uncut, who arranged the itinerary for the Kenya part of our trip.   Two more women were arriving later to fill out our group.

Several of us ordered salads and they must have had at least one whole avocado in each of them.   Marg said she wasn't hungry but wanted something to munch on, so she ordered French fries.

The whole table of us couldn't finish her fries.

Early the next morning, we set out on a seven hour drive to Samburu and the Elephant Bedroom Camp.   Our two drivers would be our guides for the next week.     The road was two lane and wound through hills and towns.   It was definitely not a high speed highway.

 I didn't take many photos along the way because there were people everywhere and I wanted to respect their privacy.   I did photograph some turkeys, and a blooming jacaranda tree.

 

 

`    We turned off the main road onto a rutted, bumpy dirt road, passed through the gate of Samburu National Park, and soon saw this sign:

     And then we were there.  It had been a long, long drive.   

     The first creature I saw was the red-headed agama lizard who claimed the common area deck as its own territory.

 

    After a brief orientation, we were escorted to our tents.   

 

    And what the heck was this in the deck of my tent???

 

Samburu is under the large "A" in Kenya.

NEXT:   Samburu works its magic on us.