Mein kampf
...t a very young age, so I did not remember what she looked like. While searching the area for a possible aunt, little did I know my parents were already speaking to her. I skipped over to her and attempted to hug her, but was intercepted by one of my elder sisters. I did eventually get a hug but the novelty had gone. On arrival at my aunt’s house all my previous perceptions of Kenya were all thrown out of the window. Her house was beautiful far better than our’s in England. It was a large townhouse, with for bedrooms each the size of our living room. My aunt Kahendi had two children young Stevie, the most intelligent three year old I have ever met, and Gayle who was a few months younger than me. Stevie could only speak an East African language called Kiswahili. Gayle however had been brought up in the U.S.A. so I could relate to her. Kahendi took us around the capital showing my father how Kenya had developed in the years since he last visited and us first timers Kenya’s attractions. We went to the zoo independently given that my aunt was at work. I had previously had bad experiences with zoos. The last zoo I went to was in Nigeria my Mum’s native country. In the zoo, all the animals were dead. The cheetah couldn’t walk since it had been whipped by the wardens. At the age of five I was traumatized when I saw the lions den was full of lions corpses, with a swarm of flies eating away at their flesh. But this Kenyan zoo was far better; they had a greater variety of animals than London zoo and a lot more living space. I remember seeing a chimpanzee steal the keepers Wellingtons, and climb up on a tall pole, then put on the Wellingtons and make a funny face at the angry keeper. The crowd surrounding the enclosure including us were laughing hysterically. We then went on a safari, well not quite, we took my aunt’s car into a games reserve to see the animals in their own habitats. Wildebeest, lions, giraffe elephants and baboons - we saw the lot in an unforgettable day. A week had past and it was now time to resume the second part of our journey. I knew it was going to be a very emotional trip for me, and also a very, testing and demanding experience. I was going to meet my grandparents in the village. They lived in the countryside of Kenya, the poorer parts. I was dreading this - no electricity, no games, no TELEVISION!! The last time I had seen my grand parents was five years prior to this in January 1992 when I was just 3. On the four hour trip from Nairobi to Maragoli we saw poverty, amazing forests of trees and Lake Nakuru home to half of the population of flamingos in the world. The river looked pink because of the millions upon millions of flamingos that flooded the river. We saw the famous rift Valley formations of dormant Volcanoes and volcanic debris consumed the horizon. It was raining season at the time so the rusty car jumped, stalled and slipped in the harsh muddy roads. We pulled up in-front of the house in the mid afternoon. My Grandparents house was far better than other neighbouring houses which consisted of shanty huts and mud huts. I don’t remember much about my reaction when I met my grandparents but I do remember breaking down into tears and clenching my grandfather. I don’t know why I did so, maybe because I heard so much about them but never really knew them. Maybe because of the years of separation and not knowing such close relatives. My uncle who lived on the grounds had two children, Anthony and Eric. They could only speak Kiswahili and the regional language of the town cal...