The mountain that eats men

One of the towns I visited during my cross-country tour of Bolivia was Potosi. Potosi is a mining town (originally was mostly silver, but now is primarily zinc and tin.) I looked at my itinerary and it read "Tour of Silver Mines in Potosi." A smarter traveller would have read up on this expedition in order to know what to expect, but clearly I didn't - until I had already gone to the torturous mines. 

Some brief history of the mines. It all started in 1545, when an Indian shepherd, who was spending the night at the mountain, started a fire and saw pure silver where he was. For centuries, the mountain enriched the Spanish monarchy. For close to 200 years, over 40,000 MT of pure silver were taken from the mountain, of which close to a quarter directly went to the Spanish monarchy. Native laborers were used to work on its mines through the traditional Incan system of mandatory public service but the Spanish manipulated this system to essentially use forced-labour. Many of the miners died due to the harsh working conditions in the mines. It is estimated that over the next three centuries, over 33 million Indians worked in the mines and close to 10 million of them died as a direct result of the work.  To compensate for the diminishing labor force, the Spaniards started importing 2000 African slaves per year. An estimated 30,000 African slaves were taken to Potosi during the colonial era. African slaves were also forced to work as human mules. Four mules were replaced with twenty African slaves. Given the high number of deaths that took place in the mines each year, the miners named it "The mountain that eats men."

Centuries later, working conditions in the mines are still not much better than they were before. The mines have no lighting, no safety regulations or inspectors, no modern rail cars and no pumped-in oxygen, leaving miners to inhale a fine deadly dust. The average life expectancy of the miners is 40 years with most of them succumbing to lung conditions. The mountain itself is also at the risk of collapse given how much has been mined from it and given the fact that the mining is unregulated resulting in shafts throughout the mountain. 

So we were to leave the hostel at 7am for the mine tour. The lady who was to give us the tour arrived around 7:15am and took us to a room with lots of dusty clothes, boots, headlamps etc for us to wear/carry. I later realized that our guide was the widow of a miner who had died in the mines a few years back, and she had to take on this risky job to feed her two children. We hopped into a van and left for the mountain. She said that we would stop by some shops and buy gifts for the miners (alcohol and coca leaves.) I was a bit surprised about the choice of gifts, but just went with the flow. The alcohol was quite scary looking - no brand, no label, no nothing. It looked like something you would use to sterilize surgical instruments, pour on a snake bite or something along those lines. Coca leaves are legal in Bolivia. It's the only country in the world where the sale and consumption of coca leaves is legal. It is even protected under some UN regulation because of its "cultural significance to the indeginous population." 

We got to the mountain around 9am, and the van left us at a point 4300M (~14,000 feet) above sea level. This would be the point we would enter the mountain from. I started feeling a bit nervous when we got out of the van and I realized just how cold it was and also how thin the air was. It was not easy to breathe. The next 3 hours in the mines were what I would describe as some form of outer body experience. We got into the mines and I realized that I would have to stoop most of the time and in some parts crawl. I was not the tallest in our group. There were four really tall Dutch girls. I felt bad for them. It was dark, it was damp, there was very little air. There were points when everyone was coughing or gasping for air. I was encouraged to chew some of the coca leaves we had brought as gifts for the miners. I think that's the only reason I didn't pass out. Coca leaves help with altitude issues. Most of the tunnels were so low that you had to go in hunched over and there were a few points you had to crawl. We blew up some dynamite in the caves and I can still feel the BOOM in my heart. Terrifying. I started having crazy thoughts. I can't tell if it was because of the coca leaves, the altitude or both. I started thinking about the Chilean miners. I started getting scared I would lose the group and forever be lost in the mountain/die in the  mountain.

We got to a place in the mine where I got to see how the miners thought of mortality when in the mines. The average Bolivian is very Catholic, but there is quite a bit of syncretism too - where elements of Catholicism are combined with elements of traditional indeginous religions. Deep in the mine we found a terrifying statue of the devil that was adorned with flowers, cigarette butts and libations of alcohol had been offered to this "protector of the miners." Our guide explained that the miners were Catholic when out of the mines and they believed God was protecting them outside, but once inside the mines they believed this was the devil's domain and therefore they prayed to the devil and offered sacrifices to the devil to "protect them from cave ins, prevent any injuries, restore them to good health etc." I can kind of understand how one would want to cover all their bases - pray to God to keep you safe, but also pray to the devil not to do you any harm.....

I left the mines with such deep respect for miners who have such a terrible job, risking their lives daily to feed their families. It is sad to know that many the world over have to pick between life and your next meal. 

After this I went out for lunch with some of my fellow comrades (from the tour.) We all bonded over just how terrifying that was. I remember being so happy when I saw sunlight as we approached the exit of the mine. For a while there, I was really beginning to believe we would not get out. We went to the local market and had lots and lots of food for less than USD 2/person. After that I went with a few people to have a drink in the park and almost missed my night bus to Uyuni. I remember having to run around like a mad woman with my huge backpack looking for a taxi when the one the hostel had called decided not to show up. I made it to my bus just in time. It was such a local bus - lots of hawkers ON the bus, people playing loud music from their own little radios and lots of noise. 

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Traversing the Bolivian desert and salt flats day 3

The third morning of the trip was tough. Though we had gone to bed around 9pm to be ready for 3:30am breakfast and our 4am departure, the cold had kept me up all night. I barely slept a wink - I can't sleep if I am cold. It was freezing! We had a quick breakfast at 3:30 and left the hostel around 4am. The ride was dark and cold. I tried to sleep in the car, but again it was too cold to sleep. After driving for close to an hour, we stopped at the amazing steam geysers at "Sol de Manana (morning sun)." It was so cold outside, but I could not miss a chance to see them up close. I got out and the first thing that hit me was the overpowering stench of sulphur. It really smelled like some giant monster had farted - really badly. The view was amazing though.

We then hopped back into the car and continued to "Laguna verde" - The Green Lagoon. The lagoon gets its remarkable color fom the high levels of lead, sulphur and calcium carbonate....in short...don't try swimming or drinking water from this pretty lagoon. The best part of the trip was when we finally got to the natural hot baths. In the middle of the freezing desert, there were nice jacuzzis:-) All natural. It was the best feeling getting into that hot water. Everyone sighed with relief once they were in. At first we were the only people there given it was so early. 20 or so minutes later, lots of other tourists descended on us. This didn't change the magic of the moment though. I was sitting in this hot water looking all around me and I could see volcanic mountains in the desert and miles and miles of nothingness blurred by the steam rising out of the hot water. It was surreal. After half an hour in the hot baths, the driver said we needed to leave. Those of us who were going on to San Pedro de Atacama in Chile needed to catch our 10am bus. 

Leaving Bolivia was dramatic. We got to the bus at the border around 9am and thought we had lots of time. For some reason, the driver of the bus to San Pedro was hurrying us. None of us was amused. Such panic mode is what results in luggage being left behind....and we had a full hour. We never understood what the rush was about. At the border, we had to go to the Bolivian customs and get our documents stamped. The driver was still following us speaking in rapid Spanish. As I was waiting in line, an American couple approached me and asked if I could give them some Bolivianos for them to pay their entry into Bolivia, in exchange for dollars. I was a bit suspicious - wondering why they didn't change money before until they told me about the earthquake in Chile. I had no idea there had been an earthquake in Chile, when we were in the desert. He told me that they had left under such hurried circumstances and couldn't find any travel bureaus. I changed some money for him. The driver came again with his rapid fire Spanish and panic mode tendencies and I was really getting irritated. He was also harrasing one of the other girls I had been in the desert with. She had a traditional Bolivian mask and it had a bit of animal fur, and he was insisting she leaves it behind as she wouldn't be allowed to get through Chilean customs with it. She stood her ground and said she would keep it and declare it on entry into Chile.

In an hour we finally got to Chilean customs. It was a very serious process - thorough scrutiny of passports, all suitcases offloaded and scanned etc. When the customs official saw my passport, he called his colleague over to look at it. They said it was the first Kenyan passport they had seen. A few people in our bus had some bags of coca leaves and the rest of us had coca tea. We were allowed to declare and get into the country with our coca tea, but not the coca leaves. The girl with the mask was also allowed to get in with her mask. Five minutes after clearing with customs we were dropped off somewhere in the middle of the desert town of San Pedro de Atacama. I had directions to my hostel from the main bus terminal, but had no idea where we had been dropped off. It was definitely not a bus terminal. 

I was eventually able to walk around with my backpack, find the main bus terminal, book my ticket out of San Pedro to Santiago that was depart in two days, and get to my hostel.I got to my hostel and it was a desert oasis. The name was Hostal Mamatierra, and it was just perfect! Beautiful, clean, had hot water 24 hours a day, wifi, really friendly staff, friendly travelers etc. My first course of action was to take a really really really long hot shower. It felt so good after not having been clean for a while. The next thing was to find out where I could do laundry. I took my laundry into a place in town - the town center was 10 minutes walk away. I am very liberal in my use of the word "town". It was a few streets with shops and restaurants, but after the desert this felt like New York. I then went to a restaurant that had a decent offer for a 3 course meal. I had salmon. I was quite pleased with it. Chile's strong economy has been credited a lot to its export of salmon, wine and berries. That salmon was amazing! I had my lunch with a really great beer from Patagonia that tasted like chocolate. 

The one thing I had done before leaving the hostel was to get on wifi and upload around 20-30 pictures from the salt flats and desert. That was my saving grace. As I was having my lunch, my phone crashed. It is a touch screen and the keypad stopped working. I couldn't unlock the screen. Within minutes, the phone started pressing its own buttons. This went on for half an hour then it went on VOK/KBC mode - those rainbow colored lines across the screen reminiscent of Kenyan TV circa 1980s. Then the screen went completely white - repeat. I think it has something to do with that dodgy solar connection from the desert. Thankfully I have a camera with me and a samsung tab (that I was able to hack whatsapp on....so life continues.)

I got back to the hostel and met my roommates. They were two friendly Californians who were in town for a friend's wedding. They invited me to join them and their friends for dinner/drinks. It was nice. We got back to the room, and were getting ready for bed when another earthquake happened. I had no idea what was going on.The room was shaking like a boat. I thought I had drank too much at dinner. Thankfully my roommates knew what to do. We all got out of the room and joined the other people in the hostel courtyard. After a few minutes, the world stopped rocking. I slept really well that night in my warm room with all the comforts I could ask for. 

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Traversing the Bolivian desert and salt flats day 2

On the second day, we woke up at 8am. We were informed that we were now done with the salt flats and would be off to the Siloli desert. The desert is part of the Atacama desert, and is characterized by rock formations produced by strong winds in the region. There was a bit of morning drama as one of the people in our group wanted to go see some llamas that were in a church compound, and we were  running really late. Everyone else said that they would rather leave, but the offending party insisted on going. By the time she came back to the car, tensions were high. I read my kindle. I don't like drama, and didn't want to get involved in any. Thankfully by later in the day things had cooled off, but there were definitely three camps in the car 1. The "we were meant to leave here at 8:15 and it's 8:17am. I am going to fume and sulk" camp, that had one occupant. 2. The next camp was the "Wow. Who cares about time. I am going to do a bit of yoga and meditation at every place we stop....and only start looking for the loo at the exact time we are meant to be on our way" camp. This camp had one occupant. The rest of us were in the "I'm not too bothered as long as we get to see everything" camp. It was not a trip without drama. 

The day was amazing! Among other great sites, we got to see amazing volcanic rock formations in the Siloli desert. The most beautiful rock formations were the "Arbol del Piedra" and the "Desierto Dali." I had the most amazing pictures, but unfortunately my phone crashed within hours of leaving the desert, and I was only able to salvage a few pictures...which I am sharing here. I hope to upload the rest in future when I hopefully get my phone fixed in Nairobi. We passed amazing volcanic mountains on our way with the most stunning being Volcan Uturuncu that stands at over 6000 above sea level and also Volcan Licancabur that stands at around 5900M above sea level. We passed many beautiful lagoons in the desert with some having quite a few pink flamingos. It was great to see wildlife given that none can survive in the salt flats where we were the previous day. We also passed some really cute animals that look like gazelles. 

In the evening we got to our accommodation for the night. This place was by Laguna Colorado and was REAL...like really REAL...no real electricity, no showers, no meat for dinner. It really dawned on me that we were in the middle of the desert. At this place all 6 of us were kept in one dorm room. I was actually happy to have so many people in the room because I thought it meant we would be warm....wrong......That was the coldest I have ever been since leaving Boston in 2009. We ate dinner - spaghetti and onion stew....The next day we were to begin our journey at 4am...breakfast at 3:30am. We went to sleep by 9pm to be up in time. I saw everyone get into their beds with sleeping bags. I really wished I had a sleeping bag. I slept in all my warm clothes...which wasn't much. There was a guy who had a silk sleeping bag. Definitely buying one next time. It's really light weight, and silk is an amazing material - warm when you are cold, and cold when you are hot. 

Before I slept, I took my phone to the kitchen to beg for them to charge it for a few hours so that I could use it the next day for pictures. Big mistake. The power was only going to be on in the kitchen for 2 hours and the connection seemed dodgy...wires hanging out, loose sockets etc....and they said the power was solar. The next morning when I picked my phone, it had not charged at all....and the next day is when it lost its damn mind. I think the connection in the Siloli desert did my phone in - more on that drama in my next post.

All in all, the salt flats and the Siloli desert was the most beautiful place I have ever been to in my life. The colors, the vastness of the desert, the tranquility. Bolivia really does have the most stunning landscape. At so many points, one felt like they were on the moon. I have never seen anything like it. 

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Traversing the Bolivian salt flats and desert - day 1

I got into the town of Uyuni around 11pm on a Sunday evening, and was off for a desert expedition early the next morning. I left my hostel around 9:45am and walked to the place where we would be departing from. We were to leave at 10:30am but by 11:30am there was still no progress. In La Paz, I had been told that the trip would be in a 4*4 and that we would be 6 in total (excluding the driver.) I eventually met the other travelers as we waited for our transportation to arrive. There were 2 German girls (one who was more Australian than German given she had a really strong Aussie accent, and had lived there a long time), one German guy, one Uruguayan guy, one French girl, the Bolivian driver and myself. By the time we departed, there was a long line of jeeps leaving the town for the salt flats and the desert. I am a tourist, but I must confess that I feel a bit upset when I realize that I am not unique.....all a thousand plus of us heading off to see the same sites:-) Our driver was really great so pretty soon we were able to lose the long lines of jeep.....vroooooooom.....Eat our dust:-)

Our first stop was the train cemetery. Construction of the rail was completed in 1892, and the trains were mostly used by mining companies. In the 1940s, the mining industry collapsed and many trains were abandoned here.  It was such a beautiful sight. All these abandoned trains in the desolate space. It looked like something from an old Western film. It was beautiful. After this we drove for hours and all we could see around us was salt. We passed some little salt hills in the beginning, but after that the landscape was all flat. It was amazing - as far as your eyes could see, the ground was all white. I have never seen anything like this - except for snow - and even with snow, there was always buildings or cars to break the landscape. In the car, one of the other travelers began talking about all the really creative pictures one can take given the never-changing background. I was about to eat a banana I had in my bag when she mentioned that it would be a great prop for pictures. It is the fascinating little beat up specimen you will see in pictures below. When we got out at the spot where people mostly take such pictures, I was amazed. The ground was solid salt and we were told that it extends even more than 9m deep into the ground. It was solidified salt. We had a fun time taking crazy pictures here before sitting down to enjoy our lunch - a little picnic on our salt carpet. Brilliant! During lunch hour the Uruguayan guy and I ironed out some differences.....Suarez is the devil for what he did to our Ghanaian brother - Asamoah Gyan, but I don't blame all your countrymen.... just him.... and malipo ni hapa duniani (payback is on earth:-)

The Uyuni Salt Flats (Salar de Uyuni) is the world's largest salt flat at over 10,000 square km, and an elevation of more than 3600m (~12,000 feet above sea level.) It was formed as a result of transformations between several prehistoric lakes. The salt is extremely rich in lithium. 50-70% of the world's lithium reserves are found at Salar de Uyuni. 

After this we drove for half an hour and arrived at the Incahuasi Island that was full of giant cacti. This was where I learnt for the first time that I had been doing it all wrong in South America. For a while I had wondered why in many washrooms, water pressure was too low to flush toilet paper. Many times I had waited for cisterns to fill 2-3 times before finally being able to get rid of all toilet paper. In the loo in the island, there was a sign that read, "Do not flush your toilet paper. Put it in the waste basket." I asked one of my fellow travelers about it, and she said, "Yeah, you should never flush toilet paper down the loo in most places in Central and South America." I was clearly confused, but I have taken it as it is......though I must say a latrine would be a much better option than having a pretend toilet that doesn't flush toilet paper.....who wants to have a bucket of crap in a loo......literally...

Enough about random crap. That island was amazing! Just imagine being in the middle of hundreds of miles of salt flats, and suddenly seeing an island with giant cacti in the horizon. I think Uyuni salt flats and the desert are an amazing site for sci-fi movies. I have never ever seen anything like it. The island was a hill, and in the beginning I had no intentions of going all the way to the top, but I somehow climbed up the whole hill. Every few meters I went up, I would look down and see the most stunning views of the island and the salt flats - I just had to keep going till I reached the summit. I sat at the top for a few minutes and marveled about nature. When one finds such beauty, you just want to save those images in your mind (and in your camera) forever!

Other amazing sites we saw were Devil's cave - a pre-Incan cemetery from about 500 - 800 AD. 

Again we drove for hundreds more miles in this amazing landscape and finally got to the Salt Hotel around 7pm. True to it's name, most of the hotel was made of salt. Our beds, were pillars of salt. The ground was granules of salt. The benches were pillars of salt. Something had been bothering me for the better part of the day. Within minutes of leaving Uyuni (around noon), my phone network had gone off, and had not come back since. I had enquired about it and someone told me "duh. We are in the middle of nowhere.....of course there is no phone network." I panicked and wondered "Oh gosh. Does this mean we also won't have wifi where we are staying?"  She added "In fact we probably won't have any electricity for the next few days." Now, I really panicked. I had been using my phone as my camera,and the battery was almost done by the time we got to the Salt Hotel. There were no sockets in the room. Thankfully a kind lady in the kitchen agreed to charge my phone for me for a few hours. 

I slept moderately well that night as the salt in the room made the temperatures bearable. 

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Beware! The hippies will drink your beer!

So one day in Arembepe, we finally went to the hippie village. This fishing village was a hippie haven in the 1960s. In its heyday, it attracted the likes of Janis Joplin, Mick Jagger, and Roman Polanski.

There was a direct route by road, but the person I was with took me on the scenic route, which was beautiful, but I should really have worn other types of shoes. I was in the one pair of flats I brought to South America.We walked 1km through some grassy patches, then another kilometer over a swamp/seasonal river (that was sort of in season), then another kilometer down a dirt road and finally 2km along the beach. Clearly I should not blame my shoes for being completely torn after the trip. I had to throw them away.....which in retrospect is ok because it gave me a good excuse to buy some amazing cheap flats in Bolivia later on. 

We got to the village and it was such a different place. I had no idea what to expect,but when I got there, we found people farming, some washing clothes by hand etc. Basically I think most of us Kenyans are hippies, if that's what being a hippie means. My friend had told me that in the village they don't use money, but we definitely paid for our beers with money - so i'm not quite sure how it works. There was a little arts and crafts market in the village where a few old people were selling stuff. They were quite high, and still smoking up. It is so strange, you know there is a smell of someone who is drunk, but there is a more distinct smell of a drunkard. In the same way, there is a smell of someone smoking up, and a more distinct smell of someone who smokes up all the time. That is the smell I will take with me. For some of the old hippies, the pungent smell of weed is forever going to remain with them - in their hair, in their clothes, in their breath etc. Everyone was really nice though - that's the one thing that should be said about potheads - not at all dangerous, but barely functional. Although my Portuguese was less than basic, I could notice the slurring and the slow speech of most of the hippies - especially the older ones. 

After looking at the various ornaments on sale, we heard some drumbeats and followed the sound. We got to the outside part of the bar where a group of 5 or so people were gathered making music. One person was on the drums, one on the guitar, a few singing and one with the shakers. It was very impromptu and quite beautiful. People kept on joining, some leaving, some singing, some dancing etc. At some point I was given the shaker, and I joined. I think I was a bit crap at the shaker, because someone came and took them from me after 15 minutes or so, but I felt so happy when I was playing. I began to see what the magic was about this place - the easy sort of joy. Not anything extravagant. Not anything big. Just the peace of sitting in a village making music with complete strangers. There were lots of mosquitoes around, but even that didn't bug me too long.

At some point, I asked if there were any English songs we could do. I sang a few Bob Marley songs. I had such a great time. One of the guitarists then invited me to do an improvisation act. I would sing whatever I want, and he would figure out how to play it - even if he didn't know the song. It worked so well. I don't know how we managed to be in sync. It was as if music was another language that we could communicate by. He knew the next notes I was going to hit even before I knew them myself. I did a mash up of Anjelique Kidjo's "Bahia", Brenda Fassie's "Nomankanjani" and threw in some Fadhili Williams "Malaika" because everyone really wanted to hear something African. It was so much fun. 

The one irritating thing though was how my beers were distributed to the masses. In Brazil, the culture is very collective. Everywhere I had been, I realized it was good manners to share a beer, rather than buy two beers at a time. I had gotten used to this reciprical nature - I buy a beer, and distribute it, then the next person does the same and we are all happy in the end. I think another reason Brazillians do it, is because they hate warm beers. I always got the impression that a warm beer was frowned upon more than an expired beer would be. I observed people pour out beer with a look of disgust on their faces, if it had gotten warm in their glass. Sharing a beer helps you avoid the beer getting warm. In the hippie village, I ordered 3 beers, but they were to come one at a time. The price was better if you got the 3 beers. The bar owner and her friend were sitting next to me. She brought out the first beer, poured some for me, poured some for her friend and then poured some for herself.....I was thinking, "Uhhhhhm, there best be a discount, now that you are all helping yourselves to my beer." They did that even with the next two - and there was no discounted price at the end....That I did not like. Beware - the hippies will mooch off your beer.

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Bank and flight drama in Arembepe

I had a few wasted days in Arembepe. Having cancelled my bus ticket out of Salvador de Bahia, I had booked a flight online. When I got to Arembepe, I didn't have wifi there, but at times my phone's internet connection through the data plan was good enough to receive emails. When in Arembepe, I received an email from the website I booked my flight with, letting me know that my card had been declined. With my poor phone internet, I tried several times to skype my bank in the US and find out what was going on - unsuccessfully.  I began to get nervous because I started thinking that perhaps my bank marked this booking as fraudulent activities and would immediately cancel my credit and debit cards, when I am in the middle of South America. That would be really bad. Anyway thankfully after a few days and communication challenges (no net, bad skype connections, pending emails etc), I was able to finally get my ticket to Peru booked.

I did a bit of sightseeing everyday in Arembepe. It was really beautiful. One evening we went to the beach and I enjoyed taking pictures of the boats at sunset - and also using them as photo props:-) In the evenings, we almost always ate acaraje at Cachitas. One thing I kept on wondering about is why no one had different flavours of acaraje. I wondered if I was the first person who had inquired about chicken acaraje. All the ladies sold the same type of acaraje - an option with shrimp and one without. For me it really told me a lot about the culture in Bahia. Culture is extremely important there, and they have maintained their culture for centuries. Acaraje has been made in the same way for generations, and perhaps the thought of even changing the formula, will somehow be a betrayal of culture......Who knows...Maybe I am overthinking it. Maybe chicken really is much more expensive an ingredient than shrimp or maybe chicken just doesn't go well with okra.....

There was a full moon when I was in Arembepe, and everyone kept on telling us about the "luau" party that would happen on the night of the full moon. It would be in the hippie village. I began to get really excited about it, but on the day of, it rained cats and dogs. I have never seen torrential rain like that. It was really beautiful to watch from indoors. 

Anyway, the day after the "luau" party that never happened, I got to go the hippie village. That was an experience and a half. More about that in my next post. 

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Moving to Arembepe, Bahia!

At some point I realized that if I was to stay in Bahia longer, I needed to move somewhere cheaper. I decided to move to a town called Arembepe. Packing my backpack was a trial. I am not the neatest person in the world, and in the one week of staying in my own room at the hostel, I had thrown everything everywhere. I really wonder how everything made it into the backpack - that was nothing short of a miracle. As I waited for my friend to take me to Arembepe, I decided to find a nice quiet place with wifi where I could blog. I found a cafe in Pelourinho called "Cubanos". I wanted to order something cheap to sip on then stay therefor hours and use their wifi. I ordered a drink called "green coconut" and what showed up on my table was a humoungous green coconut, with a straw. Not exactly what I had in mind to while the time away - especially given the coconut could not stand on its own. Finally I left for Arembepe, and my backpack nearly killed me. I had forgotten how heavy that bag was. 

On my first day in Arembepe, we walked for half an hour to get to a very beautiful river and went swimming there. At some point I was getting carried away by the euphoria (and maybe the cachaca in my system too), and swam out further. My friends stopped me and told me not to go too far because of the snakes and the plants whose tendrils could entangle someone. I asked, "What? There are snakes in this river?" and my friends responded, "Yeah, but at this time they probably won't bite. They have already eaten." I didn't get the logic of it, but at that point I limited my swimming close to the shore. The day was so hot that at some point we passed a dead frog on the road that must have died from heat exhaustion - at least that's what I think. 

In the evening we explored the town and ate the most amazing acaraje in the city center from a lady called "Cachita". She has had her stand there for over 20 years. Yummmy! We then joined some friend's of my friend's friend for drinks. 

It was an early night after all the traveling. 

 

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Cachita!

Cachita!

Islands and birthday parties.......!!

On my first Saturday in Bahia, my friend invited me for his uncle's 60th birthday party. It was lovely! His family were really great and the food was amazing. I couldn't eat as much as I was still having contractions from that herbal cough remedy. I did have some little dough coated cheese and shrimp delights. The cake was beautiful, and was surrounded by hundreds of cute little chocolates. I think it's a birthday tradition because the next birthday party I went to also had a cake surrounded by little chocolates. I had the most interesting discussions with his cousin's and siblings about race in Brazil. They said that even though Bahia is predominantly black, there is still quite a bit of discrimination against blacks with most of them being economically disenfranchised and many times being passed over for jobs in favor of hiring whites. There are quite a few Indian native tribes in Bahia, and the situation was said to not be any better for them. It was a very thought provoking discussion because I wondered how it works for those who are of mixed ethnicities. Of course I had seen many black people who completely looked like Africans, and I had seen white people who looked European, but I had also seen dark black people with green eyes or naturally blond hair or white people with tough afros or black people with Indian hair. I have always thought racism is such a stupid thing, and a lot of work too. To think that in South Africa, they had Black, White, Indian and then Colored (which I guess was the catch-all for mixed). In Brazil you even have more permutations of what people could be. Why is skin color such an important thing? It is so arbitrary. Discrimination could even have been along the lines of hair color for all you know. It would be a world of dark haired against brown haired, against blondes etc. What would happen if you grow old and your hair turned from black to white? Would you then move to the group? Anyway, my basic logic is that racism = stupidity. They also did highlight a bit that class issues are quite serious in Brazil. To quote one of the cousins "The poor people, we all get along/intermarry/work together/mix whether Black, White or Indigenous, but the higher social classes are the ones who discriminate against us."

Later that evening, we went back to the Old town and went out to a Samba club in the area. It was lots of fun dancing - it is all about shaking your hips and butt, which I can do. I was happy it had nothing to do with leg-hand coordination - of which I have none. The next day we left for the lovely island of Vera Cruz. Specifically we were going to a part called Nazare to visit my friend's sister. On our way out of Salvador, we passed by the large Bahiana woman statue, and we also took the Elevador Lacerda - the elevator connecting the lower part of the city to the upper part. If I am not wrong, I think Salvador must be the only town that has an elevator for public transportation. Salvador is unique in that the city is split into two parts by an escarpment with the top part of the city being close to 300 feet above the lower part. Since 1873 there has been an elevator linking both parts together.

We got on the boat to Vera Cruz and instantly people came on the boat selling cold beers. I could tell this day was going to be a fun one. It was a 45 minute boat ride to the island then a 1.5 hour cab ride to get to Nazare.

The first thing that struck me in Nazare were the horses. There were horses everywhere, and not just the Karen types like in Kenya. These were functional horses, skinny horses, worn horses. It was a strange sight. All the horses I have seen in Kenya are mostly ornamental/for show. No one actually gets around town on a horse, but in Nazare that was one of the forms of transportation. We got to my friend's sister's place and drank feijoada. Instead of the usually thick meal, this was a lighter version that you drank from a cup "to prevent you from falling asleep." It is crazy but true, Brazil is so hot that any time I have had a heavy meal for lunch, I have wanted to pass out.

We then left the house and walked along a lovely river and crossed a bridge. From there we got a lift to a birthday party my friend's family had been invited to. Yes, I know. I am a major poxer. Showing up at a 15 year old's birthday party when I don't know them:-) 15 year birthday parties are a big deal in Brazil for girls. I was told it is the equivalent of 18 year old birthday parties the world over. The party was great. Lots of nice people, lots of food and drinks. The music was so fascinating. It was zouk/kizomba. I could have closed my eyes and been in Angola or Cape Verde. It was really fascinating how African the music was. The other fascinating thing was how people dance. The birthday had people of all ages, but there was quite a bit of booty-shaking - even by the older people. I tried to picture a similar party in Kenya and most likely there would be two parts. One part where the older folks drank tea/pretended to drink tea as they were actually getting smashed and the other part where the younger people would be - probably with some booty shaking......but definitely no bootys would be shaking infront of the older crowd:-) It's a different culture I guess. I always say that culture is not a constant. What might seem normal to me based on my culture, might be completely strange to someone else based on theirs.

Another thing that fascinates me about Brazil is how old people are very flirtatious. I remember an older lady in booty shorts at the party telling a young guy that she wishes she was younger so she could take him. I was so amused. It is the same with guys. I have been hit on by really old guys, and I remember a friend of mine saying that guys even in their 80s still think they have a chance. They are quite confident though, and you have to give them marks in Brazil for all keeping themselves looking good even when much older. I definitely did get shown a family photo album in Bahia with grandparents kissing passionately....the things you will never find in Kenyan family photo albums....Hell, you might not even find one of grandparents holding hands, let alone standing closer than 1m apart....always have to have a tree or a chair in between them for decency's sake:-)

After the party, we went to a bar close by. I have never seen such amazing dancing as I did from two girls outside the club. It was a mash up of full 100, twerking, doing a split etc. Do not try this at home unless you are ready to be carried out on a stretcher. Nazare was also my first time I heard this music called pagochi. It was love at first beat. It started off when we were on the boat. This group of 8-10 guys started playing drums and a one stringed instrument (random musical outbursts in Bahia are quite common:-) It was amazing! You couldn't help but dance. Later that night we went to a larger club. That was where I witnessed the funniest scene. Here is the excerpt from a whatsapp conversation I had with my sister the next day:

Thekenyanexplorer: Yesterday at the club, there were some thugtypes who were speeding off on horses....and they had guns in their pockets

My sister: What?

Thekenyanexplorer: Yeah, like it's a motorbike

My sister: Speeding off on horses with guns? Now that's a blog entry

Thekenyanexplorer: You know! They were kanyagaing (stepping on) the brakes last minute. So you hear "Clopp! Cloppp! Clopppp! Neeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiggggghhhh!"

My sister: lol!

Thekenyanexplorer: Yeah, it was even scarier than a matatu (minibus) pandaing (climbing) the curb behind you.

That was a fun and strange night. The next day the process of leaving the island was a tough one. I hadn't realized that the part of the island we were in didn't accept credit cards, and we were out of cash to leave the island. Yeah, I know it's kinda pathetic. My main memories were dying of thirst and at some point sitting on the floor of Banco Brazil as we waited for my friend to get some money transferred into his account so we could get back to the mainland. This reminds me of one time I was almost stuck in Sicily, but that's a story for another day. We finally got back to Salvador and the main item on my agenda, was to go to the bus station and cancel my ticket out of Bahia. I was having so much fun that I knew I just couldn't leave. It was a long process though. You would think I was revoking my citizenship instead of just canceling a bus ticket - had to fill in lots of documents asking me if I was really sure I wanted to cancel my bus ticket. I was even expecting them to chuck alcoblow for me - "M'aam, are you sure you are in the right frame of mind as you cancel this ticket?" [Translated to Portuguese of course:-) ] 

 

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Elevador Lacerda

Elevador Lacerda

Horse, sufferer wa Jah

Horse, sufferer wa Jah

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Horsing around at the club

Horsing around at the club

First unsuccessful attempt to leave Bahia

My bus to Brasilia was to leave on Saturday morning. Friday morning I woke up and went on a city tour with my friend. It was amazing and I really started to wonder why I was in such a rush to leave Bahia for the great unknown. I had a bus booked to Brasilia, but from there I would have to figure out my way to get to Amazonas which was all the way in the other side of this massive country, and then get a boat to Peru. I was beginning to really enjoy myself in Bahia, and woke up with the suspicion that I might change my ticket. We started off by going to the church called "Our Lady of the Rosary of the Blacks" that was the first church that African slaves were able to go to. They were not allowed to worship in any of the churches, and they really wanted to have a place of worship. It took more than 100 years for them to build it, and they worked mostly at night because they had to be on the plantations all day. Seeing it filled me with a sense of awe. I cannot imagine how difficult their lives must have been, and it was just admirable that they would put in so much work to have a place where they could congregate, encourage each other, sing/dance to lift their spirits. The strength of the human spirit through adversity is really uplifting. To think that all day they would spend slaving away, toiling on the land for no pay, suffering cruel punishments, and that by night they would go and build their own church - brick by brick. To know that given it took over 100 years to build, some of those who worked so hard never actually got to worship in it. It's sad, but also very inspiring. Up to this day, there are still church services held here and they incorporate the beating of drums and a few other things that are uniquely African.

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We then walked along the full length of Pelourinho which is the historic centre of Salvador. It's history is a sad one. The word pelourinho means "pillory" - a wooden device that was used to punish people by locking in one's hands, legs and head.  Pelourinho was where public whippings would be conducted. The architecture of the place is such that it is quite hilly with a deep valley. Slaves would be forced to watch the public whippings to discourage them from any revolt or any "bad" behaviour - where "bad" behaviour included anything as small as completing a task slowly, looking badly at the master etc. It is said that the valley on Pelourinho was always filled with streams of blood from the public whippings. One can only imagine how much pain and suffering slaves went through in this square. Historically, Salvador is extremely important when talking about slave history. About 40% of all slaves who were taken from Africa entered the Americas through the port of Salvador. Salvador was also the first colonial capital of Brazil and its economy was driven by the sugar trade. Brazil was the last country in the Americas to abolish slavery - only abolishing it in 1888. Common literature states that Princess Isabella of Portugal was the one who finally emancipated slaves, but discussions in Bahia credit emancipation to Carlos do Patrocinio's influence on the Princess. He was a famous black writer, pharmacist, activist, orator, journalist etc who is said to either have been the princess's good friend or lover. 

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After this we walked further down to the tonnes of galleries in the old city. My favourite works there were 1. The dancing Bahianas and washerwomen paintings by my friend, 2. A painting of Jesus and the 12 disciples as rastafarians and 3. Various works of cubism by a 72 year old painter we called "Superboy". "Superboy" sometimes stayed in our hostel and he was simply amazing. He told me that when the spirit touches him, he can stay awake for days on end and do 2-3 paintings. Even at his advanced age, he is still a very keen painter, and has trained quite a few other painters on technique.

After this, we went downtown to eat some feijoada. It was delicious. It's a heavy meal that has rice, stewed beef and sausages, beans and a side of chilli. After this meal, all you want to do is sleep on the floor - food coma. I finally gave in to the temptation to change my ticket. I tried calling them a few times, but to no avail. Up to the point I left Brazil, I only learnt how to call out on the last day- and that's because I just called numbers with the full code included ..+55....It is a process. Apparently you have to include a number for your network to call out, and also include a number for the region you are calling out of/calling into. So when someone gives you their number, you have to realize that you will need to include 5 digits before it depending on who your service provider is, where you are and where the other person is.....Greek, I tell you! No idea why anyone would make it so difficult. My friend and I had a few stops before going to the bus station to change my ticket. We went to the local market where I bought a herbal remedy for my cough. No idea what was in this remedy, but it was more of a problem than a cure. It gave me painful stomach contractions later in the day. I decided I would rather take my chances with the cough than with the scary contractions. We then stopped in a different part of town and had a few drinks of "Mulher Barbada (The Bearded Woman.") It was sweet, but that was a scary bottle - why does the woman have a beard? We then went back to Pelourinho and had a few drinks with friends at which point I started getting nervous I would be too late to change my ticket. Brazil time is even crazier than African timing. I found myself to generally be in no sort of hurry when in Bahia. I would plan to be somewhere in an hour, then I would meet someone on the street and chat for 20 minutes then have a beer with them. I just could not hurry up, and neither could anybody else. We finally managed to get to the bus station and change my ticket. We then came back and passed through a really cool restaurant near Pelourinho whose name I unfortunately forgot. It was a very busy day.

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