Going solo

Traveling alone has not been difficult, as long as I am the one to make the effort to greet people, preferably in their mother tongue. A smile goes a long way but a few words goes much farther. Most Kenyans speak English, but they seem unsure of me. Who is this crazy mzungu traveling alone on a bicycle? Once the ice is broken, we speak in a mixture of English and Kiswahili. People are actually more open to me now and raised prices I feared has not happened much. People must have thought I hired Toto as my personal bodyguard so they viewed me in a totally different way. For the past few days I have been biking uphill at a 45 degree angle in the foothills of Mount Kenya. From Meru to Embu, I was greeted with banana and papaya trees in the valleys and tea fields on the steep slopes. I've entered the Embu tribal area, so now I greet villagers with "Ni mweega!" instead of "Muga muno!". I decided to take a rest from the sleazy places I usually sleep at after I discovered the Boy Scout Training Center. Rooms are only $4.00 and no worries about drunk men and all night loud music. I can even watch Nigerian soap operas in the cafeteria. As I leave the shadow of Mt. Kenya, the road drops into rice paddies, which I'll be looking forward to on tomorrow's ride.