"The Bible doesn't work here ..." -Tuktuk Driver

In the 1970s, Rene Haller began an environmental restoration project, transforming a quarry into a nature park. Last Friday, we drove north of Mombasa to visit this park, Haller Park. As we were guided around the park on a “nature trail”, the guide explained the various usages of the plants, and also shared stories about when and how each animal was introduced to the nature park. Most animals were not kept in enclosures (except for the snakes and the hippos) and walked freely among the visitors. It was an entirely different experience, being able to walk among the animals, rather than seeing them in elaborate “habitats”.

At the park, I made friends with a turtle, named Mzee (the Swahili word for elder), who is 130 years old; I attempted to take a picture of a mama and baby monkey, and was nearly stricken by the papa monkey; and I was able to feed the giraffes, they are such majestic creatures!

I really enjoyed visiting the park, but as we were leaving I noticed this … 

On the horizon there are hundreds of thousands of old tires. They remain in the park and are not separated from the areas of the park where the animals live. After this disturbing reality check, I decided to start paying attention to these inconsistencies. The first one being, a nature park accompanied by a wasteland: both an attempt to restore the environment and an act to destroy.

After returning to the city, Rachel, Kimberly, and myself took a trip to Nakumatt (supermarket chain found throughout countries in East Africa) to buy a few things. We left Nakumatt feeling overwhelmed by the level of globalization. Have a craving for Special K, soymilk, or tofu? Don’t worry you can buy it at your local Nakumatt! While you are in a supermarket, the only way to remind yourself where you are in the world is to go to the grain isle. Staple foods seem to be the only thing that has remained unchanged. The only reason I share the story about our trip to the Nakumatt is to tell you what happened when we left …

We approached a line of Tuktuks (the small three-wheel taxis, also known as rickshaws), to find one to take us back to our apartment. A driver pulled along side us and when we peered inside we realized it was a woman! None of us had ever seen a female tuktuk driver (or matatu driver for that matter) in Africa or elsewhere. The ride with the female (and Muslim) tuktuk driver improved the day; a scene of hopelessness followed by an observation of betterment. I hope I see her again; I would love to hear the stories she would tell.