Hakuna Matata

I have just finished my first 24 hours back in East Africa,in Nairobi. Wearing my husband's underwear. Lost luggage problems. Don't ask! It's not even a local issue, the screw up is at Heathrow, were apparently hundreds of bags are getting left behind by BA because of full flights and not enough baggage hold space. I've been told many times "Hakuna Matata (No worries) Mama, it will arrive." Yes, but this year?

It is wonderful to finally be here. What hit my memory first this morning, as we walked on a path to the market, was the smell. Woodsmoke, lush vegetation, flowers, open drains, and garbage. Dizzying! Then the shrieking of the Ibis' overhead. The smell and the sound must have unlocked some long unused corner in my brain, and Kiswahili phrases I did not remember I knew danced into my head. After all these years Africa still grips my heart and and lives in my veins.

The month ahead will be one amazing adventure. Now if only my panties would arrive.

At the Masai market in Nairobi:


B at the giraffe rehabilitation centre, Nairobi: