Karoga night - YUM!

It is another dull day. This morning on our way to work it was looking as if the sun would be out but now I can hardly see across the runway as I glance out the office window. I am definately not dressed for an evening out of doors poolside (midweek dress crisis, I loose enthusiasm after a few days).
Tonight is the monthly karoga night at the aeroclub.
Each month 3 member volunteer to cook. It is an opportunity for us to relax and not have to think about rushing back to work.

What is a karoga, you ask?

It is an uniquely Kenyan gastronomic experience. the word 'karoga' translates into english as 'to stir'. The tradition was, apparently, started by the Indian workers brought out by the British to build the Mombasa to Uganda railway (the lunatic express, as it is affectionately know). They would start the cooking of their lunch time curry early in the day, adding different spices and bits and pieces, everyone having a stir as they passed by the pot. By lunch time they would have a wonderfully fragrant slow cooked curry.
Thank goodness the tradition stuck and has become part of Kenyan culture. It is one of the most delicious meals I have texperienced and my mouth is watering just thinking about tonight, I can already smell the spices as we all stand around the pot to keep warm.

My friend Nish, a Kenyan of Indian decent, first introduced me to the karoga and he is a true artist (except for the one that burned when we were at French Patrick's house and were enjoying a few too many glasses and not concentrating on the cooking!).
The last one we did was for Jim's birthday, in January. It was great, I had very little to do except for a few salads and the birthday cake. Anna, having become quite an accomplished cooker of Indian food under the guidance of Nish and her mother in law, has made all the chapatis and the kachembari - salad made of chopped tomato, onion, corainder and chilli.
Nish and his wife Anna (she of the bump in the royal wedding photo) turned up mid afternoon with ingredients and equipment and set about things on the terrace. Of course the obligatory Tusker beer is at hand to give Nish the energy needed.
Thinking I would be very helpful I had told them not to bring chillis as we had loads in the garden. Anna took one look and pulled me aside 'they have to be green, he won't use the red ones at all' Damn!!
In the car, rush down to the local market, buy a load of green chillis, rush back, and present them, pretending nothing untoward has occured at all.
The guest arrive and in true tradition everyone gives advice on what is needed to improve flavour. We finally eat around 7pm. By purists, this would probably be considered a short cook.

The karoga tonight will be a little different in that it is being overseen by three women! Apparently it started as a bit of a joke between Tara, Irene and their friend Helen.  Now the reality is looming - Tara says she can't cook (her husband, Neil is a chef), Irene, who I work with, is panicing about getting the spices correct, so it seems it will be up to Helen who has slight experience as her husband Stirling is of Indian decent. And of course there will be plenty of advice from the crowd. Irene is particularly frantic today, getting flights out and organising crews, I have just told her she has to calm down, she will pass her stress onto the food. She thinks once she has the aroma of the spices and the atmosphere of the evening things will be fine. We shall see! You will see the results in this weeks photo Friday.

 

The master sets the scene

 

All attention around the pot

 

How to post comments

As you will see my friend Simon, super internet tech, has posted a comment! To do so you must have a Google+ account. I know some of you do already have this as you have been 1+ some of the posts, so you should be able to easily post comments. If you cant work out how to open the account through the steps in the blog, I imagine it is very easy to do a search and get onto the system. If you have a google email address you will be able to apply the + to your current account.
Hope it al works looking forward to 'talking' to you all later today.

Comments

Just a quick question today - if there is anyone out there who knows how people can start to place comments on the posts please let me know at Kenyanhomelife@gmail.com (the email address connected to the blog)I have had several people say that they have tried but it is not working. As I am very new to blogging I am not much help, thought it was all just automatic. It would be so lovely to hear your feedback and also to know if there is anything in particular you would like to hear about.

Cheers
Catherine

PS Building up for a big post with mid week photos tomorrow

Jumping out of Planes

It is a gloomy day. I have been waiting for a cheerful thought to emerge and develop into a story but, it is after 3 in the afternoon and it is not happening, so here it goes -
It is not just the weather that is gloomy, but also the mood that hangs over Wilson Airport. Our friend Harro was killed whilst flying his plane back from Samburu on Thursday afternoon. We knew the plane had gone missing but there was no confirmation until they found the wreck on Saturday evening in the mountains  - flying, bad weather and mountains do not mix well, even for the most experienced of pilots.
Someone asked me this morning how well did I know him. My answer brings back some happy memories. He was there for my first (and last) sky dive. He was instrumental in organising the annual event at Diani Beach. My cousin Lil had jumped the year before and was keen for me to give it a go so we made plans with our friend Mike (who is a very keen jumper) to go. Harro was very encouraging and reassuring to this novice jumper, who may have looked confident, but inside was a bucket of jelly!
There was about 20 people in the plane with us. Mike offered to jump out after me so he could take photos. They always leave the tandums until last, just incase someone bales out I suppose. At 15,000feet  I am hanging out of the plane, held by nothing but the harness to the chest of an instructor (a bit like being in one of those baby carriers, I imagine).............and we tumble out. I can hear my self screaming, I dont know which way is up. And then I see Mike. A bright blue blob floating towards me and I calm down, I have something to focus on and I start to enjoy the sensation and the view. As the parachute goes out, there is an upward rush and then we are floating gentle towards the beach. Looking one way I can see all the way into Tanzania, the other other way looks into Somalia and straight down is the amazing green blue Indian Ocean with the coral reefs stretching forever.
Landing is a jolt back to reality but the adrenaline is still running..and Harro is there 'Well done, did you enjoy it? ready to go again?' I think not, it was great but once is enough. That first few seconds of disorrientated falling is not something I want to experience again. I have ticked 'sky diving' off my list. Thank you, Harro.

 

A new adventure

Saturday morning. I can see the sky through the window where the curtains were not closed completed last night.

‘Is it morning yet’

‘Well, it is light but it is still dark, if you know what I mean’ I answer

‘Yes, lovely’

And it is that beautiful time which is not quite morning and no longer night, when you can justify getting up but just as easily choose to snuggle under the bed clothes for another hour or so.  The bush babies are not yet home and their tree is a dark outline against the slowly changing sky which is just tingeing a yellowy pink.

‘It is your turn to get the tea’ I say ‘I did it during the week’.

With only the slightest of grumbles, he climbs out of bed, opens the curtains fully so we can enjoy the morning show, and plods off to the kitchen. The dogs are eager to be let out. I hear the door open and the next noise is Tarbu announcing to the world that he is up and about and protecting his domain.

…..Water from the filter dripping into the kettle…..the click of the switch…..the rattle of the tea caddy…and next thing I am aware of is being presented with my cup……..and my day can begin.

Saturday is not so much different to other days – up, run around and open the house, feed the dogs and birds – but today I am off to my first wine appreciation class, so I have to be out of the house early in order to get across town. It is going to take longer than normal, and I am a little bit nervous, as I have to drive Rangie and she is unpredictable at times. Don’t get me wrong, I love driving her and we have had many happy hours bashing through Nairobi traffic together. One good thing about the Range Rover is, they are much bigger than many of the cars on the road, and tougher, so people tend to get out of your way. Even the matatu drivers are wary of trying to push in, but, there is also the fact that the hand brake does not work, the gear stick is difficult to use and being pre-power steering, very heavy to maneuver especially when trying to park in spaces made for mini minors!!   

45 uneventful minutes later I am pulling into the Junction Mall car park. ‘Thank goodness’ it is half empty. I slide into a space and drive straight through into the adjoining space, secretly imagining others will think me terribly clever being able to reverse park such a beast.

Coffee first at one of Nairobi’s flasher European style cafés, Art Caffé. For half an hour of so you can pretend you are in Paris, or even New York.

I then stroll through the Mall to the wine bar where the class is taking place. I sit with another woman waiting for the class. We introduce ourselves and start to chat about life in Nairobi and how it has changed over the past 10 years with the opening of lots of new shops, exposing us all to the more European lifestyle.

After 10 minutes or so we are all ushered into an inner room, introduced to the group we will spend the next 7 Saturday mornings with, and to our Sommelier, Juan. Then, with a flick of the projector switch our adventure into the world of wine begins.

Photo Friday!

 

US! Just realised that this green jumper has not been seen for ages, I think it is at my friend Melissa's house, I must get it back.

 

Airplane bits in the garden

More airplane bits

Shampain looking like a super model

'BeeMan' Jim all dressed up to go and investigate the state of our bee hives.

 

A mummy monkey and her very tiny baby who were sitting on the gate at the park entrance this morning as we came through

 

Portrait of Shampain with lavender. She spends alot of time sitting here on the grass just outside the kitchen. Her other favourite spot is up on the drive where she pretends to guard the house

Tarbu, where he loves to be best - in the middle of the kitchen floor. He does have a tail but it was wagging so fast the camera could not catch it!

This is my friend Laurence when she used to live in Tigoni. She has moved down to Nairobi in the past few weeks and it is so lovely to have her closer although I will miss her enormous vege garden.

Why walk when you can ride - Ella hitching a ride on Uncle Jim's shoulders for a Sunday afternoon walk through the garden. Typical African kid - no shoes to be seen anywhere!!

Mr Buffalo visiting the garden. The pile of rock used to be the generator house before we had the town electricity connected. It is planning to become a guest cottage - after the plane is built of course, only one project at a time.

Helen and I looking particularly glam at our royal wedding party in 2011 (we dont get alot of opportunity to dress up!) the bump in the middle belongs to our friend Anna who now has a delightful 2 year old. But more about her later.

 

Plans for the weekend. planes and more planes for Jim, of course. I have booked myself into a wine appreciation course which runs for 7 weeks of Saturday mornings starting tomorrow. Who knows, it may be the start of a new career!

A house full of children!!

Oh dear! What have I let myself in for?
A little while back Helen asked if I would be able to have the girls to stay for a weekend as she and Jamie will be away at the same time. Of course I say yes. They have stayed once before and are very easy to have around. BUT, in a moment of weakness, I have suggested that they bring along their friends Lianne and Florian, as their mother Joanne is also going to be away with Helen (to be honest, it will save me driving across town for play dates).
At the last minute Jim announces he will probably not have returned from his planned trip to America by that weekend - so I am frantically planning how I am going to entertain four children, by myself, without having a complete meltdown.
Friday dawns and I am as organised as a Seargent Major. Except for the fact that I cannot fit four children in our most road worthy car - no problem, I drive to work in the Toyota and will leave by 2pm. I rush home to change cars. If I go by all the back roads I should be fine in the old Rangie. Arriving at Helen's, her housekeeper, Nancy is super organised so we pile all the luggage and kids into the car and head off with them all sitting well back pretending they have seatbelts on just incase we meet a policeman on the way. We all arrive home in one piece.
They are 'camping' in the upstairs bedroom; easier to control if they are all together! Rita and Bosco have been busy moving in mattresses and mosquito nets. Mea and Lianne will top and tail in the bed by the window and Ella and Florian will be on the floor.
House rules are laid down - one hour of television or one movie per day so they all have to agree when and what they are going to watch; no going outside the buffalo fence without an adult; no lurking around the house saying there is nothing to do (they have 2 1/2 acres to play in).
Their first task whilst I prepare dinner is to draw labels for the vegetable garden. I will laminate them and tomorrow they can work with Bernard to identiy the plants and put in the labels. They then set the table for me. Florian is not keen on greens but with a little bit of encouragement ie no pudding - he manages the required number of peas and some salad - by the end of the weekend he will be eating salad without reminding. Harry Potter is the movie of choice, so everyone gets in together in the big old bath which we have in our en suite and then settles down for a couple of hours of majic. Getting them to bed is no problem, the thrill of maybe hearing lions is a drawcard.
Saturday morning, and I manage to beat them out of bed to have breakfast ready and waiting - and have a cup of tea in the calm before the storm. Breakfast, dressing and the morning jobs; they all feed the birds on the front terrace, Ella helps give Shampain and Tarbu their breakfast and then they are out in the garden to show Bernard their art work and label the vegetable garden. When they are finished it looks like we have sprouted a whole new species but they look lovely and are all the more special for having been hand made. The novelty soon wears off and Bernard has to get on with other work so it is time to head out. This morning we are going to visit Kitengela Glass. It is a short drive down our road so they are very excited about being allowed to rind in the back of the pickup. This is also a novelty for the locals walking on the road seeing 4 muzungu children bouncing along. We leave the car in the parking area at Rolph's Place. After crossing the suspension bridge across the gorge with some trepidation, it is a 2km walk across the plains. I am amazed! Absolutely not one whinge about the heat, or distance; no 'when will we be there'. The atraction is the colourful stones and pieces of glass on the ground. Everyones pockets are full by the time we finally arrive. A couple of hours watching the glass blowers and bead makers passes quickly and we sit down to drink our water and have fruit and biscuits. The 'carrot on the stick' to get them to leave is pizza lunch and swimming at Rolph's. We finally arrive home late afternoon and the vote is for another episode of Harry Potter whilst I prepare dinner. Baths and bed is early as we have another big day tomorrow. I collapse on the lounge with a glass of wine. I am half way there, one more day to go and tomorrow the cavalry is arriving in the form of my friend Laurance and her son Simon. Simon is 15 and just home from school in South Africa for holidays. The kids all love him and he can take charge. There are giggles and some grumbles coming from upstairs. I have to climb the stairs and pretend to be cross and threaten that there will be no Simon if they do not go to sleep.
Sunday morning is safari time. We have packed breakfast of muffins, hot chocolate and fruit. We have to be in an enclosed car in the park so it will have to be Rangie. The kids all sit in the back and we prop open the top flap with a stick. They take turns of being on stick duty as we go over the bumps. Everyone has paper and pencils for making lists of animals spotted and Mea is in charge of the camera. We manage to while away 3 hours driving around with a stop for breakfast. There are a few fights over positioning and Florian is getting a bit picked on being the only boy so he comes up front with me. Once we get home they are back outside playing with the dogs and watching the gate for visitors. Orders are put in for lunch and I make sandwhiches and pack a picnic for children and dogs so Laurence and I can enjoy some gossip time with out being interupted. Simon arrives and takes charge, basket, camera, blanket, dogs and off they go with instructions not to return for at least 1 hour. Time is ticking by. I receive a text from Helen saying they are about to board the plane in Lamu and will be in Nairobi by 5pm or so. We manage to keep them entertained for a couple of hours and get all the belongings which are now scattered from one end of the house to the other. Into the cars and on the road to Wilson Airport. Laurence and I settle down to a well earned glass of wine on the veranda of the Aero Club and the children run off to play and wait to spot the plane landing. Helen and Joanne arrive, loking rested and slightly tanned. Everyone is excited (and relieved). I make my apologies as soon as I can and just make it into the park gate before 6pm.
The house is quiet, too quiet. for all the hassles and whinges, I do love having the kids around.  Dogs have collapsed and are fast asleep. I text Jim and tell him I am going to bed early and will speak to him tomorrow, climb into a hot bath and then to bed and fall asleep with the light on.
............there is a phone ringing somwhere. I pull myself out of sleep and find the phone. It is Jim. 'How did the weekend go?'   
'Well , once I picked them up in Rangie...............................................................................'
Another chapter of Mea and Ella Visit The House On The Park is closed.

Family and friends

I would probably never have come to Africa at all if it was not for my mother's cousin living in Kenya. Being medical he was always an inspiration for me, with his early days working in the bush and his interest in tropical medicine. I remember first writing to him when I was working in London and his reply was very encouraging. I did not actually make it to Kenya until many years later but he introduced me to many interesting people and was always interested in my career in Australia and later when I was working with MSF. He died last year and I really do miss our conversations around weird and wonderful diseases, his work and his family anecdotes. After many years of having a safe welcoming haven from the harsh living in Sudan and other not so civilised regions, my cousin Lil finally said one day 'you spend so much time here, why dont you just come and live here' So I did. Packed up and sold my house in Australia and here I have been ever since.
Making friends was not so difficult, as after many years of socialising with Lil's friends I had become readily accepted. I think it must be quite difficult coming into such a community 'cold'. And over the years I have made friends of my own.
The AeroClub of East Africa has always been a focal point of our social life. I first met my friend Jamie, sitting in the bar one afternoon as I was waiting for Lil to finish some flight practice. he had just returned to Kenya after working in Europe for some time. For some reason I mentioned my need to learn French and he piped up that his wife, Helen, who would be arriving in a week or so, could teach me, as, although she is Australian, she had lived in France for 13 years. So, we arranged to meet one afternoon at Karen Blixen Coffee Garden. We managed about 2 lessons. Not that we did not get on or that she was not a good teacher but we just found we had too much else to talk about and after one or two glasses of wine the French got forgotten a bit. It was the start of a wonderful friendship, built, not the least on our shared love of all things French (especially the cheese!). She has always been there for me through the celebrations and the lows and I hope I have, and will  always be there for her.

It is about the airplanes in the garden, Clancy....

Dear Clancy,
I know you are waiting to hear more about the airplanes we have in the garden, since I wrote to Mum a couple of months ago. Well things have changed a bit since then but I had better start at the begining.
The planes do not belong to Jim. He has been babysitting them for three years for some friends who purchased them at an auction and then realised they had no place to keep them. Two have been sitting in a shed - all in bits of course. The third one, which at least had wheels, has been sitting in the garden near the drive and was always a talking point for friends making their first visit to the house. Children loved to play in it, in fact, I was always threatening to make it into a climbing frame/play area for children if no one was going to fix it up to fly! We finally decided a few months ago that they had to go, we needed the space, and the longer they sat, the more unlikely it was they would ever be repairable. So, one Saturday, all the bits came out onto the lawn, the boys came over and, like a jigsaw puzzle they all worked out exactly what went where to make three complete planes. The boys then had to decide what they wanted to do with them. Finally the one on wheels was pushed up the drive, through our gate, down the road a bit and into the neighbours. Who knows how long it will sit there, maybe until Jim offers to rebuild it after he has done the one/two he has now as a result of the negotiations!
The substitute 'hangar' has been prepared with a new floor, the body has been suspended from the ceiling (so it si easy to work on), all the other bits stored in safe places, and the internet is buzzing as Jim looks for new and spare parts.
I am very excited for the project to begin. One - it will be sooner finished if sooner started and Two - I want to fly off in our own little plane for weekends at the coast or upcountry. I love flying in the tiny planes. My cousin, Lil, and I used to go off in her family's plane years ago and my very first experience was with your Mum, with our friend James who had flown up to meet us in Lightening Ridge when we were visiting Dad at BilBil (well before they were married).
It is going to be a long project and I realise that getting Jim out of the shed to even eat is going to be a challenge. Hopefully it will all be ready by the time you come to visit next year. I have taken some photos to start and will take progress photos for you to follow the work. So to start I have a photo of my friends Gabriel and Ella playing pilots.
I hope you are enjoying reading,
Love Cath

The Toyota Matatu

Coming out of the drive this morning, rather later than usual I might add, I turned right rather than the expected left. Turning right is not a regular occurance but sometimes necessary, in order to tackle the traffic and join civilisation when shopping and banking need to be attended. This morning I am opening and closing bank accounts, for which I have had to take time off work. These are all day events in Africa.
The more usual left hand turn out the drive takes me along the 3-4 kms of our road to the park gate. The road is bad by anybodies standards but worse if you happen to have to walk to work and be subject to the dust storms caused by passing traffic. There are three businesses along the road and every morning the employees have to leave their mini buses (matatus) at the barrier and walk up to 5 kms into work. They are a regular crowd and after a year of doing the drive, familiar faces. Some like to walk, others are only too keen to jump in the back of the pickup and wave at their friends as the pass by. I do not stop automatically, but wait for the questioning flick of a hand 'going my way?' After all, I am not a scheduled bus service! Some days, if I time things correctly, I can have up to 10 people in the back. My mind wanders as I drive enjoying the view and day dreaming (often about what I am going to put in the blog, that day). I am jolted out of my dream by shouting and banging on the cabin roof as I nearly sail past drop off point. As everyone jumps down laughing, there are shouts of 'Asante sana madam', 'thankyou', 'good day'.
The afternoon journey is much more subdued. It has been a long day (many of them start their day at 0400 in order to get to work) and we are all hot and tired. The ride finishes at our front gate often with Shampain and Tarbu running out to see what all the fuss is about. I am home but they still have 30 minutes walk and a mini bus matatu ride home, but at least I know that the Toyota matatu has made their journey slightly easier.... and it makes me feel good to be part of our community.     

Bush Baby Adventures

This morning we were woken early by the bush babies returning home after their night time adventures. They live in the roof above our bedroom. every evening we time our sundowners on the terrace to coincide with their appearance. If visitors are coming we tell them they have to be with us by 630pm to be sure not to miss out. The first sign is a long tail hanging down from the eaves, then a tiny head, upside down, peaks out to survey the landscape. This goes on for sometimes up to half and hour, with each one having to take a look. There are about 6 in all. Over the past year we have watched the next generation grow up. Their first foray into the wild is always a time of tension. The jump from the roof to the nearest branch on their thorn tree is only about 4 feet but it is a long drop down and the branch is not the most stable and bounces around at the slightest pressure. The adults think nothing of taking the dive, however, we have watched, holding our breath, as the new babies climb all the way to the top of the roof and take a long run up only to abort take off at the last minute. nerves or just not the right conditions? I am never sure. Some times it takes up to 4-5 trial runs before they have the confidence to jump, usually with lots of encouragement from those already in the tree. As soon as everyone is safely in the tree they are off into the night. Sometimes they have been spotted in the garden but I am sure they travel much further afield.
Bed time is usually just before 6am as the sun is coming up. They land with a 'thump' and scuttle up into the top of the roof. Sometimes they settle down quickly, othertimes, such as today, they take their time arguing about who should sleep where 'move over, get off my tail'. One morning I woke to a pitiful crying and could not work out what it was, thinking it was an early bird. it was not until I heard the 'thump' and the crying suddenly stopped that I realised it must have been the group calling to the late comer to get himself home whilst still under the safety of darkness. 
I have only seen them up close twice, through our bedroom window. I am always afraid of disturbing them. However, this morning as I opened the curtains there was a tiny upside down face watching me. After I said 'good morning' and kept chating be careful not to make any sudden moves, he turnined around right way up to get a better look before running off to bed.
As we are moving onto the next section of roof renovation, we have to think very carefully about how we are going to work so as not to disturb the nest. Maybe, the guys will just have to work through the night when there is no one home!?

Dreaming of the perfect kitchen

My kitchens have always been eclectic. This one, which is probably my last stop, unless we move upcountry,  is an accumulation of souvenirs from years of travel; special pieces inherited from my mother, grandmother and great grandmother; necessary purchase from the local shops and markets which have become indispensable; and things that were here when I moved in with Jim – including Rita, our house girl. Rita loves watching me cook especially when there are gadgets involved. One afternoon back before Christmas, I was creaming butter and sugar and I happened to look over to Rita. Her head is going round and round, reminding of me of a character in one of those alien type movies. It takes me a few seconds to realise she is watching the beaters and bowl of the mixer, something she has never seen before. This machine that I have taken for granted all my life is new to her.

Traditionally, having been the domain of staff only, many Kenyan kitchens have not been designed with great thought to ease of movement, logical storage or decent work areas and certainly not as an active living space.  Being from Australia where, as in UK and much of Europe, the kitchen is considered the heart of the home, I love having others in the kitchen with me when I am cooking or using it as an informal alternative to the dining or sitting room. Hence, the renovation plans.

The first installment was the black iron ‘saucepan hanging thing’ that was my Christmas present. My description was not terribly clear to an engineer, however, one day after a few hours in his workshop, it appeared and it is perfect. Just as I imagined it, hanging in the centre of the room, from the rafters it holds pots and pans, sieves, colanders, a string of dried chillies and a few bags of onions. Since last week, as I look up through it, instead of looking at the plastic and chicken wire roof lining I am looking at a beautiful tongue and groove timber ceiling. So slowly things are coming together. The next step will be plastering the rock and cement walls – Rita and I agree on a lovely deep yellow. The actual layout keeps changing in my mind. What I do know is that it will be a space that is welcoming as a place for friends to gather as well as a functional cooking space and where the dogs also will have an allocated place so I am not constantly tripping over them as I move from the cooker to the sink!  

 

THE NEW CEILING IN PROGRESS

All good intentions

What a lazy weekend it turned out to be! All good intentions not quite making it to fruition. I seem to have spent alot ot the weekend in the kitchen and not quite getting anything finished. Although I did manage a few things on my list. After catching up on Friday evening with a friend who has a small garden centre (not a road side stall but a real space with a lovely shade house), I made a visit on Saturday morning and came away with a lovely collection of plants for the flower bed outside our bedroom window. I have put in a request for coffee bushed, pomegranates and a quince tree.
I also paid a visit to our recycling centre with far to many wine bottles plus the plastic and tin only to be told that they cannot take the small plastic trays that the mushrooms and other small bits come on. Some of them can be used as seedling trays, and I have to come up with a use for the others as I am determined they will not end up as land fill or being burned. We have also realised we have to remind each other to keep the shopping baskets in the cars as the cupboard with the plastic bags is at bursting!
Jim did find the time to sort out the strawberry plants. I gave him 2 strawberry pots for Christmas last year and the trailers have been running wild all over the garden. Now there is a seperate strawberry plot. I read somewhere that borage should be planted with strawberries - it helps make them sweeter. For my effort, I did find a new fig tree which is covered in fruit so I am preparing them for preserving.

Sitting on the terrace on Friday evening before going out, I met our resident swallows for the first time. Two of them were sitting on the roof in the evening sun just above their mud houses. It is going to be noisey when the babies arrive. I am not sure why they are here though at this time of year? I thought they should be in Europe for the summer and come back to us in October or so.   

Buffalos and baboons!!

Our resident buffalo does love to have a good scratch against our fledging fruit trees which often don’t survive an encounter with several tons of itchy beast. The answer to this problem is that our orchard (for want of a better word) looks a bit like it is covered in holding pens - each tree having a buffalo high fence around it. This innovation does not, however, protect the crop from the marauding baboons who come through at regular intervals. We do sometimes get warning, sighting them in the trees by the river or hearing them calling to each other, we know they will be visiting the next day. When they do, it is all hands on deck, including the dogs!

 

The first time I experienced a baboon invasion, although I had been living in Kenya for 7 years, I was not quite prepared for how daring they could be. A quiet Saturday afternoon reading on the terrace was interrupted by their noisy chatter and it was too late when I realised the back kitchen door was wide open – we did not have potatoes for dinner that night! So now, unless someone is in the kitchen the door and windows are closed tight.

Trying to protect our precious crop of mulberries and figs has been a fight that the baboons win every time. Just when I think we might be able to have enough for a few pots of jam, it disappears.

Our vegetable garden is totally enclosed and we have successfully raised enough to feed ourselves. Although the irregular seasons still throw me – when exactly is spring or autumn? We are so close to the equator and traditionally have two rainy seasons each year. The elevation of around 6,000 feet means we don’t experience the traditional tropical climate, however, it still never seems hot enough for growing tomatoes to me.

The citrus fruit seems not to be that attractive to baboons and in defiance I picked the mangoes green. Consequently we have enough mango chutney to last a few years to come. Protecting the herb garden is not so easy as I love having it to hand just outside the kitchen door. Who would have thought that baboons were partial to lemon grass or dill but these are the plants they always go for, if the buffalo has not trampled them on his way through. To counteract the disappointment that comes with each encounter I have to reminding myself how lucky we are to live here. To share our lives with amazing wildlife and still have all the conveniences of living close to the city.           

 

Kitchen garden plans

I do get homesick for Australia at times. Mainly the wonderful local markets that make weekend shopping so much fun. It doesn't matter where you are in the country there is always super fresh local produce, more than likely organic from small local growers; ready made foods from all corners of the globe depending on the mix of population; as well as clothes, jewelry and crafts.
SO every so often I sit down to a super session of Maggie Beer and Simon (and Ziggy the dog) series 'the cook and the chef'. I get my cooking hit as well as having a tour around the farms and markets of the Barossa Valley in South Australia (it is 6 years old but who cares). During such a session this week, my partner Jim sat down for a 5 minute watch and was hooked when the pomegranates came into view 'why cant we grow those here'? Thank you Maggie, I have been talking about Quinces, pomegranates and other 'exotic' trees for sometime and now he has seen the fruit being used he understands why I want them. The climate here is perfect for them, although we will have to keep up the watering during the dry periods. I have seen ornamental pomegranates so 'real' ones should be available, we will have to ask around all the 'garden centres' (enterprising guys who set up by the side of the road and have everthing from daisies to citrus trees). So this weekend is being set aside as house and garden time. The vege garden needs lots of organising with the very cold weather starting to set in and the honey suckle and scented geraniums are still in the plastic bags I bought them in at least 2 months ago. The mulberries are fruiting and need netting to protect them from birds and our fig tree is groaning with fruit which will be heading to the preserving pan. I have to dig out the recipe from South Africa for preserving these small middle eastern style figs - and hunt out the slake lime needed. The jar of lemon and orange seeds sitting on the kitchen window need ot be popped into yoghurt pots and encouraged to germinate. They are from imported fruit, which an agricultural friend tells me are to susceptible to pest here but I am determined to try even if I only get one tree from 50 seeds. The lemons are the most important as we already have local oranges and they give lovely fruit. Oh and we also still have to investigate the fate of our bees.

The birds and the bees

I am sitting at my kitchen table enjoying a scene, through the open door, that many dedicated twitchers can only dream of - although their dreams probably don’t involve my dogs left over lunch; the Speke’s Weavers, Red-Cheeked Cordon Bleus, Fire Finches and three or four varieties of LBJs are fighting for space with the bright orange and blue lizards who consider the kitchen steps their private solarium. There is a Purple Grenadier vying for my attention, tapping on the kitchen window.

The birds are frequent visitors either to the dog bowls or more regularly our front terrace where my partner loves to spread seed for them in the early mornings and then watch them descend for breakfast. The sun birds – we have three couples in the garden – prefer drinking from the sugar water bottle, of which the brilliant red colour has been donated from my precious store of gel food colourings that were carried by hand from Cape Town (such specialties are still a rarity in Kenya).

 The view from the front terrace is spectacular. We are constantly reminding ourselves how lucky we are to live, not just in Kenya but on the edge of Nairobi National Park. Zebra, Buffalo, Impala, Eland, Giraffe, Lion, Ostrich, and even Rhino wander into our field of vision every day. It is a scene that visitors spend their life savings to see and we can sit for hours watching it for free. Sometimes we are lucky enough to have a closer view as the only barrier from the park is the river, which is easily breeched. The old buffalo with broken horns is a frequent visitor. Often staying for a few days, keeping our grass down, he sleep at the top of the property near the front gate, a deterrent to any would be intruders. Following a few days residence during the recent rains,  he did not even bothered to ‘ask’ to have the bottom gate open so he can wander home. He would not have been able to get across the river until it went down (which took about 2 weeks). My concern, following all the rain, was for our bees. The hives are at the bottom of the garden. There is still a high tide mark half way up the top section which means the honey and the workers are safe but what of the queen who lives in the bottom half and can’t mover herself out of danger? We shall have to wait until we can get to the hives (and have someone brave enough to face the remaining bees) before we can discover her fate and if we have a decent crop of honey to add to the larder.

Mourning my Stork......

My beautiful stork has gone! Most days I drive to work through the Nairobi National Park (delaying meeting the traffic jam for an extra 20 minutes or so). About 4 weeks ago I made it my mission to follow the progress of a Saddle Billed Stork who was nesting in a tree very close to the road. We first 'met' one afternoon when I saw her by the side of the road collecting grasses that had been uprooted by the rangers putting in table drains. So everyday I would stop to assess the progress and have a chat and then give a report to my ranger friend Simon who mans the exit gate. Unfortunately when he asked for the progress reoprt last night I had to admit that the Stork was no where to be seen and the Vultures appeared to have moved in and taken over the nest. When I suggested that I spend some time on the weekend looking for her of course his response was 'but Catherine, this is nature, we can't have much control' which of course is very true. Despite the fact that the park is on the edge of one of the largest cities in Africa it is a wild place and not a zoo, and the animals come and go as they please and of course the preditors have to eat to stay alive, and scavengers such as the vultures, have to survive as best they can. Tomorrow there will be something new and beautiful to catch my attention. Oh, and Simon has promised he will keep an eye out when he is on patrol.

Introduction

Wow! I have started a blog - a great achievement for someone who has little patience with technology. This all started with the short installments I write for myself documenting our daily life living on two and half acres just outside Nairobi. Our property has a boundary with Nairobi National Park which means we are privilaged to have wild visitors at any time during the day or night - it can make life very interesting. I showed my jottings to a journalist friend and she suggested this is where I start. I hope you enjoy reading about our unique life style. I look forward to your comments.
As a first taster here is a photo of our wonderful view from the front terrace