Sump'tings Wrong with Henry - Episode 1

Poor Henry the Campervan. He survived nearly 5000 kilometres of occasionally rather dire roads, trundling along contentedly on safari to Kenya. But this weekend it took just 12kms of gravel from Kipipiri to who knows where to stump him.

We were on an exploration, hunting down the grave and house of Happy Valley socialite Alice de Janzé. The road was really rural with only the buzz of a few boda boda motorbikes. Four wheeled transport appeared to rarely use this route, suiting us down to the ground.

Endless hedgerows of blackberry brambles alternated with shrubs showering spikes of purple skywards or proffering clusters of pink petals to passersby. Over the tops of the hedges could be seen the gentle waves of the Aberdares range, slumbering over the Wanjohi valley. Patchworked with little green fields of crops, tin roofed farmhouses, voluptuously woolly sheep and contentedly grazing cows, the valley, an idyllic, tranquil setting, cast a spell over our busy minds, quietening all thought and slowing our breath to a steady rhythm. Therapy!

'Clutter, bing, clatter, screech'. Expletives from Him Outdoors, "is that us?" from me as the brakes were slammed on. Out we popped to see oil pumping gelatinously down the hill - of course, we were a few metres from the crest. An excellent spot for a 3 tonne vehicle to blow up. The culprit couldn't hide it's guilt - a rock the size of  small football lay to the side, it's sole sharp point oil-drenched.
                                 

"With the bad front shocks we bottomed out as we went over that little rock and smashed the sump," HO gloomily pronounced. We were miles from the nearest village, let alone any kind of vehicle help. A desperate SOS call to a friend in Nairobi (3 hours away) proved fruitless - he was on safari for the next 2 days. 

What to do, what to do?

This is Africa, it took less than 5 minutes for people to appear from nowhere and begin inspecting the vehicle, prod the rock, examine the black slick sliding downhill. Then a boda boda roared up. The driver, seeing richer pickings, turfed his 2 passengers and their 50kg bag of maize off the back and offered to take HO to the next village in search of a vehicle that might be able to tow Henry. Off they zoomed while Henry and I became the focal point of a growing crowd of people enthralled by this excitement. Mzungus. A weird vehicle with a bed inside it! They called a friend. The crowd began to amass soccer stadium proportions. HO returned.

"We've found a tow, for what it's worth," he announced. "Pastor Jimmy has a short wheel based Landcruiser, cute as a button. Not sure if it can pull Henry though."

Pastor Jimmy pulled up and many willing hands attached the vehicles. But, oh dear. Henry 1, Cruiser Nil. Nothing doing. After lots of consultation, the crowd, women included, put their shoulders behind both cars and shoved. Barely able to breathe, it finally worked and Henry was up the hill. I led the multitude on foot to the next bit, a steep downhill. Now, Henry was to be disconnected and to freewheel down until the next hill.  

                                    
And so it went, until an incline bigger than Pastor Jimmy's positive spirit brought everything to a halt. "Looks like we'll camp here for the night," HO declared. "We can walk to the village for a beer then bed down."

                                   

Before we could secure Henry, three 'helpers' returned from the village. They'd persuaded an ancient Mitsubishi truck to pull us up. Yay.  

Not so fast, honey. Tired of the crowd, I'd marched up the hill to wait. Followed by about 30 giggling children growing every more daring as they reached out to touch my skin and hair, novelties to them. Nothing happened for a long while and then, a mass group of men, laughing and dancing, headed towards us from the village. They'd got the call to come and push - the Mitsubishi wasn't up to the task either.

I hurried after them to find the vehicles halfway up the first steep bit and HO surrounded by an excited mob negotiating the best price for their labour. The important things sorted out, a tow rope was hitched to the front of the Mitsubishi and taken up by a group of men. The majority of guys swarmed along the sides and rear of both trucks, heaving and chanting. The kids and I walked rapidly ahead, jumping off the track as the entourage came past. With the additional horsepower, I soon lost sight of Henry and had to climb faster to see where everyone had disappeared to.


 




And that is where I'll leave today's episode. Tune in tomorrow for the conclusion of this tale - will we find a doctor for Henry? Will we be stranded in a village called Kiambogo, so far off any map of Kenya we were lost forever? 

All shall be revealed!