We arrived at the “crime scene”. The hunters took the path and plunged into the bush. I waited by the side of the road. A few minutes later, cheers occurred – the tire was found. She was hidden in the branches of the trees, apparently the thief would come back for her later. I again sent the trackers into the bush and, after a few minutes, they found the windshield of the motorcycle abandoned in the bushes. Kenyans were proud of themselves. I shook hands with everyone and handed them a cash balance – a few dollars. The old man whispered that this was not enough. Then I gave the trackers icons taken from the house. The young “fighters” received the GTO badges and the older got the beautiful Komsomol badge with Lenin. The trackers were happy, but they also asked me to take the youngest of them to the nearest village at school. It did not bother me and drove the boy.
Isiolo seemed to me a city of alcoholics and motorcyclists. Motorcyclists on light Chinese bikes greeted me with cheers, alcoholics shouted something after the vile mzungu white Americans wandering in Kenya. Dozens of shops and boutiques were located in the main street of Isiolo , but all the goods and vendors were concealed to the customers behind solid metal bars. Looking at these grids, you understand how dangerous Kenya is.
Alex moved to a good hotel, which was accessed through the triple lanyard and security. Alexey arrived in Isiolo with a flat tire and had already changed it. I should also go on a motorcycle. The only car mechanic in the city used motorcycles for customers on the road near the workshop. The mechanic did not have his screwdrivers and I spent a few hours running around the stores and searching for the Allen keys I needed. Bought Chinese. These keys were disposable. By unscrewing a bolt, you had to buy new keys to unscrew the next one. Soft metal tools do not even stand up to simple work. We always dismounted the bike, but then it started to rain and the mechanic ran away. Disassembled motorcycle on the road – the sky itself was crying over its lifeless metal body. Soon the rain stopped and we went back to work. To reinforce the plastic sheath, it was necessary to weld metal loops torn from the tank. But the welder did not undertake this job – he was afraid to burn the tank – that would mean the final death of the bike. We are exhausted, wet and covered with earth, we can not do anything important, except that we have screwed a few bolts. On the asphalt, which started after Isiolo , the bike must not collapse. And in Nairobi, there was a chance to find a decent mechanic. the bike should not fall apart. And in Nairobi, there was a chance to find a decent mechanic. the bike should not fall apart. And in Nairobi, there was a chance to find a decent mechanic.
In the Kenyan capital, Alexey and I left together. They crossed the line of the equator, near which several souvenir merchants played tricks: they threw a leaf into a bowl of water to float clockwise or according to the chosen place, in the northern hemisphere or in the south. We went through all the police stations with metal spikes with sharp spikes nearby – no one tried to stop us. A fight was observed near one of the roadside markets. Two sellers of watermelons fought and some separated them. One of the quick-tempered aunts grabbed a machete, but a companion was hung on her arm to prevent a massacre, preventing the slaughter from occurring. We waited for the aunts to calm down and we bought them a watermelon.
Built by the British, Nairobi is considered the most dangerous city in East Africa (if you do not consider the Somali city). This city is expensive and only 20% of its inhabitants can afford it, including many white expatriates (Americans, British, South Africans, etc.). The rest of the inhabitants barely make ends meet. About a million people live in shantytowns, whose appearance has even come from Brazilian favels . Poverty and social inequality have caused problems that have plagued the Kenyan capital for many years: banditry, extortion, drug abuse. The latest outbreak of violence occurred shortly before our arrival after the elections. The brutal struggle for power and the human sacrifices associated with it have dealt a severe blow to Kenya’s economy, mainly based on tourism. It is safer for foreigners to go to Tanzania or other African countries. The wild beasts living in Kenya are all the better – peace and quiet, but for Kenyans, the lack of tourists means job loss and income deprivation.
We settled in the prestigious part of Nairobi. Here, behind high barriers of barbed wire and high-voltage cables, wealthy Kenyans tried to build their personal paradise, in which there was no room for the wandering fringe around the fence. Oases of paradise in the middle of hell. My tooth hurt and I went to the dentist. A guard with a pump gun pumped around the private polyclinic: the necessary electrical wires were stretched along the perimeter of the fence. It is clear that even pulling a bad tooth costs 100 dollars. For most citizens, going to a dental clinic is also unrealistic, like having a bank account in Switzerland or going to work at Ferrari.
But the poor in the region are still able to show their teeth. According to the information provided to the Russian Embassy, the head of the Kiev riot police, who had been walking in the park at night, was beaten, stolen and, even worse, strangers were bitten .
In Nairobi, we started repairing motorcycles. In town, next to the extremely expensive KTM service center, there was a good mechanic – Chris, the owner of the hotel and the Jungle Junction campsite . All motorcycle and car travelers went to his campsite, no matter where they went to Africa. Here, one can get acquainted with the most unusual people and hear the most exciting stories. Chris took my Suzuki tight and called him back during the day. Everything was cleaned, screwed, repaired. Even the unfortunate windshield fell into place and no longer hung in the wind. You could continue the journey. Further south, in Tanzania.