27 April 2026
It is the worst of times, it is the worst of times.
BA, its check in people, its lounge etc etc are all, of course, fabulous.
Nairobi, on the other hand, is in the grip of the kind of deluge that ended the reign of the dinosaurs.
Passport control is a hideous game of chance, which I lose and choose the line in front of a gentleman who is either dyslexic, blind, OCD or just a bastard, as each immigrant is subject to the kind of scrutiny that would never have allowed Mandelson closer to power that charging the batteries on a mobile phone.
Then the interminable wait for my bags. I have a low panic threshold these days and can go from “excellent ! The bags are coming” to “OMG they have lost my bags” in under five minutes. They have not lost my bags, they simply do not understand what my lovely orange “Priority” sticker means.
Then another interminable wait while a huge plane-load of travellers puts their luggage through ONE xray machine and are questioned by two Customs Officers.
And now we hit rock bottom. A huge customs officer makes me open all my bags and declares that tax must be paid on all charitable donations coming into Kenya. I hurtle through the gamut of my horror stories … rape, FGM, early marriage, more rape … but I am definitely losing my touch. I am sent to join the queue at the Customs Office. Where I remain for 45 minutes.
I know that an old white women ranting and raving about how bad Kenyan men are will not go down well in a Customs Office full of men and I try to muster what charm I can. Which is not much, as anyone who knows me will know.
When I eventually get in to the office I am with quite a young bloke who actually looks quite nice. I launch into the spiel. “What is the value of the things?” he asks. I tell him I have no idea. The wazungu who donate are just throwing them away like takataka (rubbish), I tell him. And I (here I grab my boobs and move them around) do not wear a bra so I do not know how much they might cost, Much laughter. Which is good. I end up telling this young man all about Mama B and there is no customs charge because he has that power. The enormous man is, it transpires, his boss. They both get hugged.
The rain outside is terrifying. Visibility zero. Thunder and lightning. There is a (new) channel of fast flowing mud outside my door. Jumping across is the only option and I am not a gifted jumper. Also there is a waterfall covering the stairs up to the first floor.
Karibu Kenya.
