Goodbye Kenya…..and Noflik….

Finally, after three busy months, its time to leave Kenya. We had a great time and we end it in style. Already Marten and Minne made their appearance in a Kenyan hospital, now its Henk’s turn to visit a shack where some people happen to pretend to be doctor. At the end of the night before our departure, we decided we should say the Dutch students here ‘goodbye’ and being there, we thought it would be fun to fiddle around in their swimming pool. While doing some kind of undefined move, Henk got is arm a little twisted, causing his shoulder to dislocated. Ironically, almost exactly a year ago, just before leaving The Netherlands, Henk also dislocated his shoulder. Also this time Minne tried to fix it himself by jerking and pushing Henk’s arm around like a joystick. Also this time, this had not the required effect, except for Henk shouting words that are not to be repeated on the internet. So also this time, Henk got deported to the hospital to get his arm fixed.

After a bumpy road that only further agonized Henk, we got at the hospital. Obviously we were in Africa, cause even in this building, where we needed haste and efficiency, everybody here was acting like they just woke up after a night of heavy alcohol abuse, which actually might be the case. This laid back attitude did not make us happy and caused Henk to shout and curse around to everybody he felt was not working hard enough for his recovery. After fifteen minutes however, Henk got his requested portion of drug, a nice little bottle of Ketamine got emptied in his thigh and suddenly he was surrounded by chanting plushy toy bears that magically got his arm back in his socket.

The scene in the bug and gecko infested hospital, where there was more dried blood on the sheets then paint on the walls, seemed all funny, until the serious looking people showed the bill. 25 Euro (thats Twen-ty-Five-Euro!) was what they said. Freakin’ fortune, especially in this country and so we refused. That was no problem, except now we weren’t allowed to leave. We aren’t allowed a lot of stuff, so we left anyway, forcing our way through the gate to come back and settle the score the next morning. The hospital people didn’t like this, and so, when Minne walked to the hospital to negotiate a better price, he got arrested and had to use all his skills to talk himself out of the situation. Thing is, we don’t have twentyfive Euro to pay for an unexpected cost as a hospital and we knew that it should be way less. After a few hours of talking and arguing there still was no compromise and things started to look bad, till suddenly an NiceView employee came up and paid the bill. Our pride did not take this well, but our wallet did. We thanked the man quite much and at last left for Tanzania.

At the border, everything went without a glitch. Visa paid (Fifty Dollar! Fifty! Each!), Noflik got her first stamp in her passport, what cost us even more… Well, as you see from the tone of this blog, we are not rich anymore. More likely, we’re poor. This causes us to eat at the garbage dump, beg for money and even sell our dog. Yes, it happened. After thousands of requests to sell our beloved dog, we finally gave in. We didn’t had any food for the last couple of days and we were almost forced to sell her in order to survive ourself. Never again will we see those loyal eyes that ask us what to do, never again that wiggling stump of a tail will make us laugh, never again will we be protected against all sorts of evil people that try to rip us of. So even though we are able to buy some food now, we’ll probably get killed, because now there’s nothing holding the African people back to kill us. So long Noflik, we’ll miss you. We’re actually crying when typing this. You’ve been a loyal companion and your departure totally ruins the first birthday of our foundation. Yay, we are around for exactly a year now. And we had to sell our dog. If only we could buy liquor to ease the pain that’s eating us from the inside…

As you can read, the road gets harder every mile, what we especially notice in our wallet, that at the moment is drained from every currency. Oh, how we would love to be able to buy our dog back, get extra petrol to make it to the next border or maybe pay for our next visa. But where do we get the money? Well, from you ofcourse! Make use of the fancy new button’s on the right, or let us know what other means you can deploy to aid our goal.

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Tags: dislocated, kenya, poor, tanzania, visa