It struck once again, the great and overwhelming yearning for some adventure. The itching and nagging feeling to stop everything you are doing, get-up and go as far away as possible, travel somewhere, someplace that you have never been before – the farther the better. Usually this feeling is preceded by a very stifling impatience, a thought that you’re being bogged down or caged or sat on by something, which won’t just go away. The spirit simply wants to break-away from routine and fly off like a free bird, like there is no care in this World.
I looked-up on the map, and there it was. I have never been to Lake Turkana, the famed one and only permanent desert lake, anywhere in the World. Perfect spot! Thus, my objective: to get to shores of this lake, and step on its waters.
The massive lake is located northwest of Kenya, stretching a good 300 KMs down from the Kenya-Ethiopian border. Ethiopia has a small tiny share of this lake on her side. So the lake is a dominantly Kenyan feature, and eye catching on the Kenyan map. The Lake is fed by two significant permanent rivers, the Omo river from Ethiopia and the Turkwel river in Kenya.
On the map it shows there are two existing routes that one can use to get to the lake, starting from Nairobi . The Western shores can be accessed near Kalokol or Eliye springs, by travelling via Category A1 ‘highway’ to Lodwar (the major town in that part of Kenya). The other route is through Samburu county, via Baragoi or Laisamis towns, landing at Loyangalani township on the eastern shores. The later is said to be quite treacherous, from what I hear — much of the road is extremely poor, and public transport over there is quite unpredictable. It’s best attempted on private/tour operator vehicles.
Of course the more easier way would be to land by Airplane as close as possible to the Lake. There is a good airstrip at the heart of Lodwar town. I believe Fly540 has (at least) once a day flight to Lodwar from Nairobi (JKIA). As far as I know, they also offer the most competitive rates for that route (about Kshs. 14,000 one way on my last check). Their flight to Lodwar goes via Eldoret. We’ve used this flight before to Eldoret with my kids, seen here below.
Fly540 plane en-route to Lodwar, at Eldoret Airport
You may also wish to check-out the other three domestic air transport operators in Kenya – Air-Kenya, Kenya Airways, and Jambojet, who may run flights to Lodwar or other towns closer-by.
I wanted to get the feel of the land itself, for a complete dose of the adventure. So flying was not for me. Besides, flying in this part of the world is still quite hard on the pocket of an average man. Do I say? 😉 So, for this first time, I chose my itinerary to take me to Kalokol by road.
For all logistical and practical purposes, the journey has to be split into three legs. First – Nairobi to Kitale, then Kitale to Lodwar, finally Lodwar to Kalokol.
Nairobi to Kitale:
The first leg is the easiest, uneventful, if not the most prestigious. You’ll be spoilt for choice on what operator to use. If you prefer clean, comfortable and hustle-free ride, three operators come in mind the Kitale SACCO shuttles, North-Rift SACCO shuttles, both 11 seater vehicles found along Mfangano lane, Nairobi, or the Easy Coach buses found at the old Railway Deport on Haile-Selasie Rd, Nairobi. A great plus for the Easy Coach buses is that they operate on a timetable, and have a good reputation for keeping time. Actually you may also choose to take any of the Shuttle vehicles headed for Eldoret found within the same vicinity of the those three operators, then connect to Kitale at Eldoret town. They are all OK, and fairly efficient. Normally on this leg, drivers would stop to give passengers a short health break in Nakuru.
The journey from Nairobi to Kitale takes anywhere between 8 and 9 hrs, and should cost you about Kshs. 1,000. The road is fairly good, all the way.
I arrived in Kitale at sunset. I immediately sought to establish the buses that ply the Lodwar route and what times they shall be leaving the next-day. And also if I needed to make any prior bookings. I found out that two bus operators ply the route – Dayah Express and Eldoret Express. Both have twice a day departures from the Kitale municipal council bus-stage. It is not necessary to book for a seat. You only have to show up early the next day and pay-up the bus fare upon boarding the vehicle. But for those who are keen on booking a specific seating arrangement, I know Dayah express, the bus that I used, has a booking office next to the disused Kitale Railway station.
Now, from my experience, I advise anyone heading to Lodwar from Nairobi to, as a matter of necessity, take a good overnight rest in Kitale. You shall need it. The second leg is such a grueling journey by all measure. While I was at the bus-stage that evening, some touts attempted to convince me to board a 4X4 van that they said had one last slot available, I think it was an Toyota Land-cruiser. They informed me that it will travel overnight arriving in Lodwar by daylight. In-fact one had the audacity to lie to me that no bus arrives in Lodwar on the same day of travel, that all would spend a night mid-way somewhere in Lokichar. I politely decline largely because I was keen on having a daytime travel. I think I was also not too trusting of this arrangement with a non-PSV certified vehicle, which is a wise thing to do here bearing in mind the state of insecurity along this route. Now I know even better – even if there would be a non-stop bus between Nairobi and Lodwar, I would not consider taking it. That would be too much physical strain to subject one-self.
Kitale is a sizable town, a host to variety of hotels and guest-houses to suit all tastes, and means. I headed to the nearest decent looking guest house, away from the noisy bars, within walking distance of the main stage. Vision Gate hotel. Their rooms were clean, quite, self-contained suites with running hot-water. At Kshs. 1,500 a night, inclusive of breakfast, I thought this was a good deal and paid up. It was getting late now, so after a refreshing hot shower, I hit the sack, slept soundly to be woken by chirping birds early the next day.
Kitale to Lodwar
The hotel served a heavy breakfast at their restaurant. I was done by 7:30 AM and headed for the main-stage. I found two buses from the two bus companies parked waiting for passengers. A mob of touts split on opposing camps dashed in my direction, they were all trying to convince me to take their bus. I inquired and was informed that Dayah charged Kshs. 2,000, while Eldoret Express charged Kshs. 1,500. I wondered loudly why there was such a significant difference in the fares charged. Anyway, Dayah looked almost full to me, I headed for their bus. We were to wait for another two hours before the bus was finally full and was flagged-off to leave for Lodwar. I had been informed that the bus leaves at 8:30 AM. Here, I could see there was no sense of hurry, absolutely. A fellow passenger, a social and amiable man, was quick to notice my impatience. He advised me to lower my expectations on this route. In his words, we shall arrive in Lodwar when we get there. It maybe today, tonight or the day after tomorrow. He advised that all I needed was to make sure I had enough bottles of water with me, and maybe a packet of biscuits. And that is what I did.
He was right, keep this in mind if headed in that route. In-fact I need add, try and be friendly to your seat-mate, it is such an arduously long and rough journey that you have to keep talking, otherwise you’ll die of boredom, if not by the pain of being whacked roughshod by the bumpy ride.
On my way back I deliberately chose to use the competitor bus company, Eldoret Express. I can vouch that there is little difference in the quality of their services (that’s if there is any quality to talk about anywhere for this route), they are both the same. So if you can, try and save your money by paying the cheaper fare.
The heavily loaded beast of a bus made its way out of Kitale town at about quarter to 11 AM. All passengers, about 70, seated. The belly carriage had just swallowed an unbelievable mountain of sacks, of I think Sugar, Rice and Potatoes. The overhead carriage was fully strapped with assorted trade supplies and passenger luggage headed for Lodwar. It had just refueled with 300 Liters of Diesel fuel I saw counting. You could feel the pain of the metal and rubber as it groaned through the continuous maize plantations of Kitale and Kapenguria.
Then began the one and only steep incline climb on this route, starting at just before Makutano/Kapenguria Junction and snaking up to the summit at Kapkoris trading center. By the end of this climb the progress of the bus had been reduced to nothing beyond a walking pace, thick black diesel smoke blanketed the road behind.
Then a hair-raising descend began, as the bus negotiated the pin-sharp bends of the narrow road down to bottom of the valley, that suddenly ends at Chepareria township. I swear I could sense the smell of burning rubber. But worry, if any, was completely drowned by the rewarding breath taking view of the thick lush highland vegetation over the cliffs and the rolling hills in this section of the road. Very beautiful!
Somewhere between Chepareria township and Ortum town, we cross one of the two main Turkwel river tributaries, the one fed by the Cherangany water tower, a mighty, fast rushing mass of water, heading down to Lake Turkana. This is the first among four crossings on this river. We shall encounter a final crossing at Lodwar town as the river readies to empty itself into the Lake. This river will be joined by the Suam river,sourced from the Mt. Elgon water tower, at the Turkwel gorge dam beyond, forming the Turkwel river proper – the river looked like a sea of flowing water at Lodwar bridge. The dam at Turkwel river gorge drives a major hydro-electric station in western Kenya, injecting 106 MW to the national Electric grid. The dam is found at the boundary of West Pokot and Turkana county .
As we approach Ortum town, the the misty cold Solyang peak comes to view (the girl selling Oranges that I asked at Ortum pronounced it Soldang, but spelled it Solyang). It is clearly a dominant peak of the Cherangany range, if not the highest. The panoramic hilly landscape around the area is simply awesome!
Mist envelops Solyang peaks, in the background, at Ortum.
A second winding descend begins around Ortum town. Now the road runs roughly parallel to the roaring Turkwel river to the left for approximately 30KMs to Marich Pass. The belt of land strapping between the road and the river is one prime piece of real estate. It is evidently fertile, agriculturally rich and highly productive area. From the plentiful irrigation water, warm(er) climate, and the rich loamy/silt soil, Banana plantations, Mangoes, Citrus fruits, tomatoes, among other horticultural crops, were thriving, albeit within parcels of small scale subsistence.
Marich Pass
Finally we approach the second crossing of the Turkwel river at the end of the descend at Marich pass. “Marich” is a Kalenjin word that means “narrow”. In-fact the correct spelling for proper pronunciation should be “mariich”. Hence this translates to “narrow pass”.
While at this section you’ll not fail to see for yourself why the Pokot aptly named it so. There is a steep valley bordered by two high cliffs on both sides sandwiching the Turkwel river at this section. A narrow passage had to be hewn-off the cliffs for about 2 kms on either sides of the this bridge, to allow for the bridge crossing itself and for the road to run alongside the river gorge. It certainly is one dangerous spot. There are imminent dangers of loose rocks hurtling down the cliff crashing traffic below, or completely blocking the road. There is also the risk of vehicles skidding off the narrow passage and down into the fast flowing river. On our way to Lodwar we found a huge boulder that had fallen overnight smack on the middle of the road, blocking half the road. Vehicles had to cautiously negotiate round it, within inches to the river gorge.
Marich pass abruptly marks the end of a number of things. One, the hilly terrain suddenly end as you emerge into the Turkana plains, the Cherangany ranges effectively behind you. Vegetation suddenly turn into sparse shrubs and open grasslands. The eye catching hills and vales of west Pokot gives way to the never ending monotonous and sometimes featureless rolling landscape all the way down to Lodwar. Even the air feels hotter. I am not sure if by design or default, but even the little patches of tarmac that still held all the way also end at the pass.
Kainuk Town
The next major settlement on the way is Kainuk township. You cross the Turkwel river once again here, for the third time, just as you are about to enter the township. I believe this bridge marks the natural demarcation between West Pokot and Turkana county. Most drivers to and from Lodwar stop at this town, to enable their passenger take a health break.
One very remarkable observation to a traveler about this town is its significantly militarist nature. There are too many Policemen for such a small dusty settlement of no more than a thousand residents. Most are idling about armed. You also notice too many Police reservists (volunteer policemen) dangling old guns around. Too many guns in this town.
Its not difficult to see why. On either side of the bridge a stretch from way back at Marich pass to further ahead for about 40 Kms to Kakong , the Savannah provides a rich open grazing ground for livestock. Livestock rustling between the Pokots and the Turkanas is legendary, and has often resulted in deadly clashes sometimes involving use of sophisticated weapons between members of the two communities. You will see cattle herders in this section carrying guns openly – the Pokots between Marich pass and Kainuk, and the Turkanas between Kainuk and Kakong. The law of the gun rules here.
The bad blood between the two communities does seem to simmer beneath the surface. I was seated next to a Turkana man on the front row seat on my way back from Lodwar. From what I had gathered from him he was from Kakuma, way distant from this border area. But just as we approached Kainuk and as the hills near Marich pass came to view from a distance, he had began pointing at the hills with a wagging finger, up the mist on those hills, calling it the ‘smoke’ of the Pokots, ending the statement with a click, in what I could clearly read from his body language as a form of a deriding description. Soon after we crossed the bridge at Kainuk, a gun totting Pokot herdsman suddenly stepped onto the the road from the bush, waving down the bus. The driver stopped the bus suddenly without hesitation. The fellow walked to the driver’s window, silently looked-up to him for a few seconds, cast an eye on us at the front seat, then calmly asked for a bottle of water. You should have seen the frenzy with which this Turkana friend produced the bottle of water in his paper bag, handing to the driver who had also just produced his. The herdsman instantly got two bottles for asking for one. He then calmly walked back to the bush where he had come from as the driver drove off. I asked why they had all reacted thus, handing over their water bottles in such hurry with no questions asked. They both, almost in a unison, replied to me that that is precisely how a Pokot who is looking for an excuse to start a fight begins. He makes a simple request, they said. If you fail to honor it, or attempt to talk back to him in any way that he may perceive as offensive, he will hit back with a disproportionate response – like shoot at you dead. They also informed me not to be deluded to imagine that such a daring move (policemen were hardly a KM away at Kainuk) was acted single-handedly by the individual that we saw. They said chances are very high that a number of his friends were hiding nearby watching our every move.
Well, I may not confirm nor deny those damning allegations against the Pokots. It could be that the guy was genuinely thirsty and just needed the water. Maybe not. But, I agree with them. It is was far better to comply and not to take chances and risk confrontation, however remote, with an armed man, whether he was a Pokot or not, over flimsy matters such as water bottles.
From this narrative you should safely conclude that the section between Marich Pass through Kainuk to Kakong, is a confirmed high banditry prone zone. Travel in this area must be done with high sense of caution. I had been snapping pics liberally as we came down from Kitale, until this section when the bus conductor, a Somali, warned me to stop doing so. Otherwise, he said, it might draw the wrath of the ‘Pokots’. Surely these Pokot cousins of mine, they truly have a hell of a reputation around here!
Now, I also recall not long ago that the Ugandan President, Yoweri Museveni, had asked his Kenya counterpart on a national address to persuade the ‘Pokot’ to return his cattle, attracting a barrage of protests from a significant section of Kenyans. Are the Pokot such bad news everywhere they go?
Road to Lokichar Town
Leaving Kainuk, the next major town is Lokichar. By the time we got to this town, I was suffering from a glowing neck-pain from the bumpy ride. Every form of firm support that you would get in the bus, from the seat in-front to the rails above, were all shaking and rattling with terrible irritating noise. The bus was swaying from side to side as the driver negotiated the deep gullies on the poor road.
Occasionally he would brush against the over-reaching thorn shrubs lining the sides of the road, slapping through the partially open-windows with a scratching halt, some little leaves and thorns falling on our laps. With the real danger of having your eyes poked by the sharp thorns, most passengers on the window seats shut their windows tight, creating a major ventilation problem. It was stifling hot and humid inside. My entire right hand side of my T-shirt was partially drenched soak wet, by my sweaty neighbor, and he was fast asleep throwing his weight without care on my shoulders as the bus swayed.
The matters were not helped that the bus had taken additional standing passengers along the way, further shrinking any personal space. Traffic rules are non-existent here. Lorries were bulldozing other drivers out of the smoother sandy sections, either pushing them off-road, or forcing them to drive on wrong side of the road. From here and beyond the road’s quality had significantly deteriorated to almost nothing more than what you would get of a cattle track.
Dayah Express bus, on our way to Lodwar
Worn-out road. Hills near Marich Pass in the back-ground.
I am informed that once upon-a-time, this road was tarmacked and was as smooth as a carpet, all the way to Lodwar and beyond to Kalokol, by funding of Norwegian govt. Through a development assistance programme, the Norwegians had also constructed the huge fish processing plant at Kalokol, and initiated a number of projects including building of Schools, dispensaries and Water supply projects aimed at improving the lives of the Turkana people.
But all these came tumbling down, thanks to the colossal leadership idiocy emblemic of the Nyayo era. My seat-mate on the bus informed me that during the Mwakenya saga of the late 80’s, a few dissidents had been granted political asylum by Norway. This apparently had not gone down too well with the then President. He went on, that around that time, the incensed Nyayo govt had issued an executive order for all Norwegian diplomatic links to be cut, and ordered the Norwegian diplomat in Kenya to vacate the country with 48hrs. Speak of shooting yourself on the foot, or biting the hand that feeds you!
The ramifications of the order was the withdrawal of all Norwegian development assistance in Kenya. All expatriates frantically rushed to leave with their diplomats, bringing all ongoing projects under their charge to a halt without possibility of project leadership transition. It led to immediate collapse of all ongoing projects in this region. Evidence are plenty to see – for example the rotting Kolokol Fish Processing Plant, and this road that has reduced to a cattle track, they stick out like a sore thumb.
Good example of how one man’s ego could get in the way of the livelihoods of millions of people. And his often cited mantra was, siasa mbaya – maisha mbaya (bad politics, bad livelihoods). I think few Kenyans have any doubts if at all in their minds on who the actual master artist of retrogressive politics was. The people of Turkana know it first-hand.
Shameless govt marginalization even in subsequent regimes, has consigned majority of the population in this county into destitute poverty.
But talking to a few other residents, I get the feeling that work that some non-governmental agencies are doing with their limited resources in this region towards poverty alleviation is touching lives, and is highly appreciated. More specifically the work by the Catholic church and the World Vision. I say a big thank-you to these agencies, may God bless your work.
Happily chatting residents at Lokichar. Men with their ‘Kajolong’ stools dangling at hand. See also the beaded necklaces typically worn by Turkana women.
Above picture of happily chatting residents of Lokichar. Notice the portable stools in those men’s hands. The T-shape stool, called “Kajolong” by the Turkana, is used either as a stool or a neck-support when lying down. Almost every Turkana man that you’ll see in this county has one, those on the open-country carry one with them wherever they go. The women are beautifully decorated by beaded necklaces, a traditional culture that seems to cut-across a number of pastoral communities in Kenya including the Maasai, the Samburu, Rendille and even the Pokots and some other Kalenjin sub-tribes. But the Turkana take the mantle, by lugging the largest swath around their necks.
The greater Lokichar basin has been generating exciting national news lately – the announcement of significant finds of oil deposits in this region. In turn the town seems to have been stirred to live by speculative investors. Unlike anywhere else in this county, plots are being demarcated – you’ll see beacons all over the hot lifeless sandy patches. Every part is buzzing with construction activities in one form or another, mostly aimed at providing living quarters, I guess for the oil workers and those rushing-in in the hope of cashing on whatever windfall this oil find may bring. Dozens of massive trucks and and tankers are parked along the road on this town, I think some are supplying needed resources for the the exploration works, and maybe others are en-route to or from Lodwar.
Apparently some of the ongoing explorations are been done right close to the road. Heavy tractor track marks are crisscrossed all over the sandy soil. Just past Lokichar town, we saw strings of these sensors, like one in the the picture below. I imagine they are forms of listeners used for geological mapping of possible oil deposits deep down under the earths surface.
One of the gadgets, spread out for oil exploration along the road not far from Lokichar town
What you observe along this road is there are no bridges constructed to cross the dry river beds. Instead, a depressed concreted structure is made, shaped to follow along the cross-section of the mostly shallow river beds.
Here the structures are called ‘Lagers’ . The longest lager that I saw crosses the Lokichar river, at lokichar town. It is a huge empty sandy river bed, smooth as a calm sea. Other than facilitating vehicular crossing, I believe the lagers also serve another, possibly un-intended, but equally life sustaining purpose – the formation of a sand-dam behind the lager. With the sand backed-up several meters behind this structure, seasonal water flows could be preserved much longer beneath the sand, protected from the scorching sun. Residents and animals living around the lager can extract the water by digging shallow wells on this sand-dam.
Past Lokichar, the road crosses lagers at increasingly more frequent intervals.
What I hope this tells you is that any flash floods can suddenly cut short your travel on this road, as you must wait for the storm water rushing over the lagers to sub-side to safe levels before attempting to cross. From the size of some of the river-beds, it is evident that it is quite possible in some cases for travelers to be marooned for days. The gravity of the advise at start of this journey was now clear – arrival times can be very uncertain.
Arrival at Lodwar Town
We finally arrived at Lodwar town at about half past 9 PM. We crossed the Turkwel river for the fourth and the last time as we enter into the town center. Surprise surprise, the town itself has brand-new beautiful smooth tarmacked streets! What a contrast, especially after the grueling ride on a supposedly international A1 grade highway that we just left mtrs away!
It is clear that the local authority here is trying to do some good work with the management of this town. I take this as an exciting sign of good things come, following the entrenchment of county govts through the new constitution – that forced development resources to be devolved to the counties. I hope this spirit shall dominate within the rank and file of the Turkana county leadership. I hope they shall use the devolved development funds prudently. To plan strategically, so that these resources, and others generated locally, may help to systematically extend tangible and sustainable development in all areas of this vast county, and shore up luck for all Turkana residents.
A street at Lodwar.
My seat-mate from the bus took me around to try and locate a good guest-house. We found that most good guest houses were full, courtesy of all kinds of visitors that had arrived for the Turkana cultural festivals scheduled on the week. But Lodwar as I later learned is never short of good eateries and places to put-up, they are plenty.
We finally found a room for Kshs. 1,000 a night, at ‘the Splash’ guest-house, along some dusty lane, I don’t think it has a name. Self-contained and clean, with running water. It also had a working ceiling mounted fan, an absolute necessity here. I liked it, and paid up. After a meal of delicious fried goat meat, with Ugali, at a restaurant across the street, I went back to the room for a much desired cold shower and a good rest.
Off to Kalokol
The following day I set for Kalokol. I had struck some conversation with the night watchman, Mr. Peter Ekai (I hope I got his last name correctly). He directed me to the stage that I could find transport to the town. There is a stage not far from the Lodwar district hospital, about 100 mtrs, at the junction of the two main thoroughfares headed towards the dominant Lodwar hill. Right there in-fact is the fence to the Lodwar airstrip.
I found about half a dozen Toyota Probox cars (5 seater station wagons), waiting for passengers. Another set of cars were grouped across the street, but these, I was told, were headed for Kakuma. The fare was Kshs. 300. I paid for the last remaining slot and boarded the vehicle.
The vehicle should normally carry five passengers, here we were seven passengers packed tight like sardines, two on the passenger seat next to the driver, four on the back seat. Another one I later found, was made to lie with the luggage at the boot. The 1 hr ride was rough but fairly smooth – the tarmack road on the large part is still in good condition.
I was careful though, never to allow the Turkana lady seated on my right-hand to be crushed against the car door by the sway of the hefty well-fed men seated to my left, as the car negotiated around pot-holes. She had the swath of colorful necklaces that I mentioned earlier on her, her head clean-shaven by the sides, but the hair on top of her head were beautifully woven. And she was was draped in a single lesso (cotton-sheet), nothing else. The only Lady in the car. So I had to hold my ground very firmly on my seat like a pillar, bearing the brunt of the crush like a man (and don’t ask me if I had another form of a crush, or if I had other unspecified pillars that I was struggling to hold firmly in control – naughty you!). A little act of chivalry can go a long way, you know 😉 I think towards the end, she took note of this pain of mine, and acknowledged my effort, and patted me on my back – yes, bet she did!
Hardworking women at Kalokol.
The main street at Kalokol.
I really did not expect much of this town, and that is exactly what I got – not much. But I had hoped to at least find some decent accommodation, for a two day stay. I was disappointed.
The only guest house that could come close to anything decent was this. Rooms were not that bad, but all guests and everyone else around had to share a crumbling pit latrine outside.It had a dangerous wide crack on the floor, I could tell it was just a matter of days before some unlucky soul sank down with it into the filth below. The same structure housed two makeshift bath-rooms where one could bathe from a basin. Since there was no running water, rooms were supplied with jerry-cans of water that you were required to ration for everything you needed water for that day. There is no Electricity in the town, so you would imagine there were no fans in the rooms to cool yourself from the scalding hot environment there. Forget about charging your phone or camera. Everything is too basic.
Don’t get me wrong, I am not complaining. But I have an obligation to myself to observe the complete dearth of facilities there, while I could see for myself that the place had such an immense potential!
Since I was not too sure on how long I was going to take at the Lake, I decided to rent one of the rooms anyway for the night – it went for Kshs. 400. But I resolved deep within me that I was not going to shower, and I was not going to try to take a pit stop, until I got back to Lodwar early the next day.
I deposited my back-pack luggage in the room, I then shopped for a few bottles of coke, then hired a motorbike ride to the lake shore, he asked for Kshs. 150 (there are many boda-boda operators there jostling for customers).
By now the craving to see the lake was almost turning me crazy. I had to set my eyes on this lake, whatever it takes. Lake Turkana had been quite elusive, it had not come to view even from a distance anywhere on my entire journey so far. I only got to see it when I was right on the shores. Even then my view was partially blocked by the acacia shrubs and bushes doting around the shore. You can’t completely appreciate the great expanse of this massive body of water, until you get on a boat and sail off the shores.
We zoomed by the massive Kalokol fish processing plant, a white elephant, as we headed for the Lake.
At the Shores of Lake Turkana
Standing at first stop on the shores of lake Turkana, Impreza beach.
You may access the lake at two spots, the Impreza beach and Natirai beach. These sites, as I have said already, can only give you an obstructed glimpse of the lake. it is even much worse at Natirai beach because of heavier vegetation around there. To get the best unhindered view, including a touch of a perfect beach setting with clean water that you can swim in, and glittering white sandy expanse, you have to take a boat ride from either of these two beach sites, cross the neck of the gulf (I believe it is the Ferguson’s gulf, on some maps) and land at Long’ech beach at the tip of the peninsula there.
I had asked my motorbike rider to drop me at Impreza beach. That name may be quite high-sounding, but on the ground little to impress. You find a clutter of make-shift fishermen structures. Some boat makers were hammering around a new boat. Across over there were a group of semi naked kids playing around puddles of muddy water. A few old men were gathered under one of the makeshift structures, perched on their ‘kajolongs’, and seemed to be imbibing on something hard.
I could also see some fish-bones, scattered carelessly, littering around and near these structures.
I later established that these were homes. The entire area had an overwhelming stench of rotting fish. But finally I had stepped right on the shores of lake Turkana for the first time in my life, at last! The sense of satisfaction that this brought to me was priceless.
I noticed a fairly organized courtyard by the standards of this area, not far from where I was standing on – they even had a stocked bar. This I learned was a campsite – the only meaningful attempt at reaping commercially on the value of this beach, other than the fishing activity. I went about carefully positioning myself to have some good photo clicks. The Lake had overflown onto the bushes around, the water was brown, but I could notice the blue clean water about a KM away into the Lake.
I seemed out of place, but interestingly nobody took notice of me. Some group of boats were anchored not far off, with a few fishermen mending their nets.
After contemplating for a while on what to do next, I decided to approach the fishermen. But to get there I had to walk through ankle deep dirty water. I did not have my pair of shorts , nor my flip-flops. I had to do what I had to do – remove my shoes and socks and fold my trousers to knee high, then very carefully (there could be thorns, or fish bones in water) wade bare-feet to where they were.
At first I wanted to know if I could get a boat ride to Central Island, south of this spot. After they informed me it would cost me Kshs. 20,000, I changed my mind. That was way too high for my budget. Next I asked if they could take me for a simple boat ride to the cleaner waters ahead and back. That’s when they informed me that they could take me over to Long’ech, where I could sample a much cleaner beach and have beautiful views of the lake. They asked for Kshs. 5,000. But after some bargain, settled for Kshs. 2,500. They had a nice decent fiber-glass boat right there. I later realized this was operated by the Campsite that I saw earlier. The campsite is named ‘Ekanyarit Akicha’, a Turkana term that stands for ‘Star-Light’, the friends told me.
Oh, I need to add the sentimental value of my wrist-watch to that boat ride. There was this nice young chap, his name he told me was Emoning, a class 6 pupil at the local primary school. He had been helping me around for that boat ride. I could see he had been admiring my wrist-watch, and when he asked for it, I simply unstrapped and handed it over to him without question. A very good and a highly valued young friend, I hope to see him again someday.
They gathered their petrol tank from the Campsite and we were soon splashing a snow white wake on a thrilling high speed ride over the lake water. We crossed over to the crystal clear water, and suddenly the lake waters felt so deep, high waves splashing around the boat.
Boat ride on the Lake
Endless unbroken expanse of the water that I had desired to see all along was now right before my eyes, looked like an ocean. I took a deep breath with a great sense of fulfillment. I slowly savored and marveled in my heart at this wonderful feature of God’s creation. I took a scoop of the water with my palm, to taste. To my surprise, the water tasted fresh! I had thought all along that this was a salt water lake. I was wrong. There is however a very slight alkaline taste, in-fact the water feels a bit soapy. The friends on the boat informed me that they do drink this water, after boiling. After looking-up later, I have learned that this water, though some may drink, is quite high on fluorides. Hence it explains something that I saw with all the fishermen and residents there at the beach, all of them had highly discolored set of teeth.
After loitering about on the water, we headed for the clear sandy beach at Long’ech. I envied the children that were swimming about, in the clear warm water around this spectacularly clean beach. I wish I had known – I should have brought along my swimming kit. The water was so alluring, especially under the punishing heat of the Turkana county Sun. Others were fishing, gathering a sizable school of fish, as I stood there watching. This Lake, I am told, is very rich in fish, even the giant Nile perch is found here, but it is grossly under-exploited due to the poor infrastructure required for fast delivery of the perishable merchandise to ready markets in other parts of the country. It is precisely why the Norwegians had built the Kalokol fish processing plant that now lays in waste.
Standing on clear water at Long’ech beach.
The sand farther away from the water edge was very hot, it felt like walking on hot coals. There is a real danger of getting burned on your bare-feet, or your bum if you are unfortunate enough to sit on it. Even the Turkana residents there keep their sandals on when crossing the loose sand. The vantage higher ground at Long’ech provided a perfect unhindered view of the Lake. If you must appreciate the lake at Kalokol, then this is the place to be.
Great view of the Lake from Long’ech beach.
Long’ech beach offices.
Water,water,water, beyond the horizon. A view from Long’ech.
Check on youtube posts of the ride:
I established later that you do not necessarily have to hire a speed-boat to get to Long’ech, as I did. You can ask a motorcyclist to drop you at Natirai beach. There you’ll find wooden boats that ply a ‘matatu’ service for the locals headed to Long’ech for Kshs. 30 per head, complete with touts calling out for clients by the beach. The lake crossing is even shorter there. But as we all know about ‘matatu’ services, it may come at a price of degraded safety, from possible overloading to shabby conditions of the boats. Better weigh your risks carefully.
Back to Lodwar
My mission accomplished!
I realized that I still had enough time to get back to Lodwar when I arrived at the guest house in Kalokol. There was one Probox shuttle, just like the one I had used in the morning, ready to leave. I decided to forego the room that I had paid for and head back to Lodwar. There is really nothing else to do at Kalokol, the night there, I imagine, would be so long and boring. Besides, the smell of dried fish everywhere was beginning to get on my nerves. This is a very fishy town!
On the way back, I began to take notice of how the landscape had completely changed in the area surrounding Lodwar and Kalokol. It was bone dry. I mean dry, dry, rocky surface all though, with no grass, only a few scattered shrubs here and there. The incessant sun and heat created a mirage as the hot air rose on the horizon. But, I could see some Turkana homesteads like this beautiful one of woven palm fronds along the way.
Nice Turkana manyatta at a distance, woven from palm fronds. Notice the desert landscape all around, no turf of grass anywhere.
I was perplexed with so many questions running through my mind.
How in World were these people surviving? It is quite difficult to get even a jerry-can of water here from whichever nearest source, possibly tens of miles away. Where were they getting their food? even goats and camels, the most hardy of livestock, would find very little to browse around here.
One of the motor-cycle riders that I had hired at Kalokol summed it up well. He told me that in Kalokol “we never say die” – I assume it’s a line that he picked from some movie. But that for sure is the only spirit that rules the hearts of these people.
Take the example of Mr. Peter Ekai, the night watchmen at the guest house, who I mentioned earlier. He told me that he treks for 4 (four!!) good hours on each leg back and forth between his workplace and his home everyday. The home, as he told me was in the general direction of Kalokol. So, at the time that we were parting around 7:00 AM, he was heading for home hoping to get there at about 11:00 AM. Then he would rest, or do whatever businesses he needed to do at home, but must start his journey back to Lodwar at 3PM in order to get to work by 7PM, for the evening shift. He has to do this on a daily basis without a break, under the oven hot Turkana heat (sometimes 50 degree centigrade). Talk of determination!
I wonder how many us spoiled urbanites, if left by ourselves in this land, would last a week. I have developed such a profound admiration and respect for the Turkana people from this trip. A people who can a eke a living out of such barren land, have an amazing zeal for life. I guess for me, this is where others have said that travel is one of the most rewarding forms of introspection.
Elijah Tenai 