Twenty years ago, as a new grandparent, prompted by pride and a desire to cling on to what remained of youth, I allowed myself to be persuaded, cajoled, convinced, to join a near 300-mile bike ride across Kenya.
From Nyeri to Kisumu, up and down the sides of the Rift Valley, along tracks and rough roads lined with agricultural workers, we sweated, struggled, bonded, rejoiced. We made new friends, chatted with locals, marvelled at how many walked along the roads, drank welcome bottles of Tusker beer at the end of the day and slept the sleep of the just. We listened to school children sing, sat under village trees, were greeted by many shouts of Jambo.
At the end of the week, we flew in small aircraft to land on a strip of sand in Turkana, the arid and desertified landscape a marked contrast to the fertility of the Rift Valley Highlands. The lives of the people we had met so far were much simpler than ours, much less material, but here we met people fighting to survive, living hand to mouth, but still a people full of life, joy and enthusiasm – people who gave us an amazing welcome.
Water was the central need in this area and the focus of New Ways, the charity we were riding with. So, we visited dams the group had helped to find, villages with wells drilled with support for the group, talked with local leaders, priests, engineers and felt blessed by the welcome, and inspired to continue to work to support the mutual relationships we saw in action. And we felt we had been the real beneficiaries from the experience. A true insight into different ways of life and into the power of working together.
A couple of years later we were back – off road this time and added more wildlife, camping, and other experiences, including racing local youngsters on the bikes, referenced in the poem below, one of the many poems I wrote during the rides. And twenty years on I’m still involved, if in a more deskbound way, still inspired by those experiences, still feeling privileged.
Balloons that fly away, expelling air amused the children who watched us lunch a crazy Spaniard juggling apples made them laugh but the bike race was the thing boneshaker versus mountain bike Shimano versus no gears In play as in life we’re so well equipped while they must achieve with nothing
Powerful writing, thank you. X