#happy hour nairobi

[carlamathew00]

Local Mexican Cuisine In Nairobi | Events In Nairobi This Weekend

Nairobi Street Kitchen offers a taste of Kenya's unique flavours. From delectable nyama choma to traditional ugali, our menu honours New Breakfast Place In Nairobi, Kenyan cuisine's rich past. Come experience Nairobi's unique culinary culture with us.

[joesjewelryinternational]

Dine in Mexican Restaurants in Nairobi | Happy Hour Nairobi

Explore Kenya's vibrant flavours at Nairobi Street Kitchen." Immerse new breakfast place in nairobi yourself in a culinary experience as we introduce you to the real flavours and fragrances of Nairobi's thriving street food industry.

[depressopax]

☽ La casa de papel masterlist ☾

This is my masterlist for La casa de papel (LCDP)! To make a request for stories/characters - feel free to DM me on here! I'm more than happy for suggestions <3

I post all my work on AO3 Feel free to check it out!

Just a heads up that this blog and the fanfics are NOT spoiler free. So keep that in mind when reading my work!

I always try to write a note for my fics, including ship, gender identity and a summary for the story. And of course, a (trigger) warning list!

I try to make most of my work with gender-neutral reader, but I also write fem readers a lot, but I'm open to writing male reader too, if requested :)

Just make sure to read rules before requesting Full masterlist & WIP found here

I will write...

☆ Fluff ☆ Angst ☆ Smut ☆ NSFW/SFW headcanons ☆ One-shots ☆ Scenarios

I'm writing for...

Nairobi/Ágata Jiménez

Headcanons

Relationship

Fluff

Nightmares - SFW version

Smut

Nightmares - NSFW version

Stress Relief

24 Hours

Berlin/Andrés de Fonollosa

Headcanons

Relationship - SFW

Fluff

Smut

Tokyo/Silene Oliviera

Headcanons

Fluff

Smut

Denver/Daniel Ramos

Headcanons

Fluff

Smut

Professor/Sergio Marquina

Headcanons

Fluff

Smut

Alicia Sierra

Headcanons

Fluff

Smut

Berlin Spinoff - Characters

Headcanons

Fluff

Smut

Others

NSFW alphabet - ALL characters (mentioned above)

A (aftercare)

D-F (dirty secret, experience, fav position)

K-O (kinks, location, motivation, "No" & oral)

Valentine's day headcanons SFW

I will mostly write gender-neutral or female reader, but can also write others!

Looking forward <3

[hinatastinygiant]

3 | Tracing the Author's Path

Pairing: Sanzu x Fem!Reader

The Book of Salvation

Later that night, after a few too many drinks, you stumble back to Amaya's house, which happens to be the closest one. Drunk and elated, you collapse onto one side of her bed and fall fast asleep.

It's not until the next morning, as you groggily reach for your phone, that you realize you had given your number to Sanzu. Panic surges through you as both your friends frantically try to steal your phone and text him. Thankfully, you manage to evade them and respond to his message before they can get in the way.

After a few texts, he offers a casual invitation for coffee at a small spot he knows, a place far from the eyes of the paparazzi. You agree, and to your surprise, you have a genuinely good time.

Now, about a week has passed since that coffee date, and you find yourself irresistibly drawn to him. His passion for his music and genuine kindness are so attractive. You've hung out a couple more times, purely as friends, but the connection between you seems to deepen with every meeting.

The third time you hang out, Sanzu offers you tickets to his upcoming concert the following weekend. Of course, you say yes, and when you share the news with your friends, your ears nearly fall off.

Now you're at Amaya's house, getting ready for the upcoming night with your friends. The three of you gather in her bedroom, surrounded by clothes and makeup.

As you pick out your outfit and apply your makeup, Nairobi shoots you a mischievous look. "So, is anything finally gonna happen with Sanzu tonight?"

Amaya then chimes in, "Yeah, there's no way you haven't fallen in love with him yet."

You can't help but smile at their antics. "Well, we're just friends for now."

"Hm," Amaya hums as she tries on the next dress in a long line of options. "That didn't really answer my question."

Nairobi grins and then jokes, "Hey, you know, we have backstage passes. Anything goes backstage, right?"

Amaya agrees as she zips up her dress, "What happens backstage, stays backstage."

"Exactly," Nairobi nods as she reaches for her phone. "Now hurry up, Maya, you're taking so long and I want to call the Uber soon."

Amaya rolls her eyes playfully. "Okay, fine, I'm done, and I'll go with this one."

Nairobi heaves a dramatic sigh of relief. "Thank you." She then orders the Uber and confirms the ride.

As you wait for the car, you all head downstairs to Amaya's well-stocked bar. You grab a bottle of rum, and with shot glasses in hand, you clink them together. "Cheers!"

After a few rounds, Nairobi checks her phone. "Hey, the Uber's here," she announces. And then, you all pile into the car.

You arrive at the concert venue right on time at 9 PM, just when the opening act is supposed to start. To your surprise, as soon as you step inside, a person approaches you, ready to escort you backstage. So, you follow their lead, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling within you.

The escort knocks on a door that reads Haruchiyo Sanzu. Your heart races, and your face burns when he opens the door. Without hesitation when he notices you, he wraps his arms around your waist, his warm breath brushing against your ear as he whispers, "I'm glad you came. You look so beautiful."

You can practically feel the smirks on your friends' faces, and a shiver runs down your spine. After releasing you from his embrace, he greets and hugs your friends, who look like they're about to faint from sheer excitement.

Sanzu then extends yet another offer to you and your friends. "We've got an hour before I go on. The opener never ends on time, it's annoying, but hey, they're happy, so whatever. Do you want to come in?"

After accepting gratefully, the three of you follow him inside where he introduces you to the rest of Earthpig's members. He then takes you gently by the hand and leads you to one of the beautiful couches in the room. 

You watch as he plucks a joining from one of the other bandmates and takes a hit. He then offers it to you and you follow his lead.

As the room fills with the familiar haze, Sanzu asks what the three of you think of the night's venue. Amaya quickly replies with a not-so-astute answer. "It's huge!"

Sanzu smiles, a hint of pride in his voice. "It's one of my favorite places to play."

You pass the joint to Nairobi, who's sitting nearby. Meanwhile, Sanzu's hand rests comfortably on your thigh, and your heart flutters at the gesture. You hate to admit it but Amaya might be right. It would be very hard not to find yourself falling for this guy. He's always been so honest with you. And now, sitting beside him once more, you're beginning to realize the depth of your own feelings. Besides, you typically don't want to make out with someone you consider to be just your friend.

Sometime later, one of Sanzu's bandmates announces that it's time to prepare for the stage and they all begin to stand. Your group then makes their way to the door and into the hallway. 

But before you part ways, Sanzu takes you gently by the wrist and pulls you closer to him. He leans in, his voice low, and asks, "Can I kiss you, Y/N? Just for good luck?"

A moment of hesitation hangs in the air, but then you nod, unable to resist the magnetic pull between you two. 

"Use your words, pretty girl. I know you're good with them," he then adds softly.

In a soft, barely audible voice, you whisper, "Yes."

With that, he leans in and kisses you, and the world seems to blur into a swirl of intoxicating sensations. When he pulls away, you're so lost in the moment that you instinctively try to kiss him again. But he pulls back, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. "I'll see you later," he says.

You nod slowly, your thoughts still spinning. "Yeah, later," you respond, watching as he walks away.

Amaya breaks the silence, saying, "Woah."

Nairobi adds with a chuckle, "Shit, Y/N, that might be the worst form of teasing ever."

All you can manage is a nod, still captivated by the lingering taste of his kiss. Amaya takes you by the hand, even though your gaze remains fixed on where Sanzu disappeared. She says, "Come on, let's go find our spots. The show's going to start soon."

The Book of Salvation

Taglist: @bontensbabygirl

[every-aj-needs-an-angel]

Thank you for the tag @estrellami-1 ❤️

Relationship status: I am a very happy spinster

Song stuck in my head: Let's Have A Kiki- Scissor Sisters

Last song I listened to: Freedom- Wham!

3 favourite foods: candy floss!! Does a tub of Celebrations count? 😂 and chocolate gateau

Last thing I googled: Sounds humans make 🤣

Dream trip: I'd LOVE to go to Wolf Lodge in Norway or Giraffe Manor in Nairobi. Basically I just wanna eat breakfast with animals 😂

Anything I want right now: an end to capitalism? a permanent removal of people with shitty opinions (sexists/racists/homophobes/terfs etc) a few more extra hours in the day? maybe a donut?

I feel like I'm annoying everyone with the tags! Please just lmk if I'm being annoying @its-all-ineffable @resident-gay-bitch @adhdsummer @mentallyundone and anyone else who wants to 💖

[itr0ars]

cady hasn’t missed homeschool in forever, for your information. she doesn’t miss being left to her own devices, of which there were next to none in the matter of gadgetry manufactured after the twentieth century. yes, she had fun making cairns out of broken abaci, but now she has real interests, like keeping up with music that makes her ears cry and going to malls that give her hypothermia. she doesn’t miss extirpating essays and dioramas obsessed with the past and ruining her chances at a normal future with friends and/or loyal followers. yes, she was too busy applying cuticle creams under her desk to pay attention to their analysis the tragedy of julius caesar, but she trusts that mentally homogenising those parties can only end in happiness. she doesn’t miss her parents picking her up. yes, she hates the bus because it’s always late and the driver always has to get out and argue with the owners of pets he almost runs over, but she barely talks to them over breakfast anymore, anyways.

maybe she misses gretchen treating her like a person instead of a sounding board. she can see the lecture hall now as they step out of school; squint a little and she can read the sans serif text tepidly projected onto a screen: why is gretchen wieners so desperate, so voluble, so courageous yet so compliant? are her mating instincts triggered by seeing memes about regina’s pole being thoroughly rocked? does her existence rely on a hamster wheel spun by noise? there’s a voice in her head going stop thinking that, she’s your friend and another going stop thinking that she’s your friend but cady knows that if she stops thinking she’ll have to start thinking about getting her test signed and getting her hair wet because the sky’s turned a deep, dark grey and gretchen must’ve talked herself vacant of saliva an hour ago.

@fetchkitty — ❛ is there anything else i can do for you? ❜ ( accepting. )

that’s better, gretch. use the somewhat pretty head beneath that secret-holding hair for something productive. “ well, i know we’re technically rivals now, but you’d never let that get between our friendship, right? i mean, it’d be totally awkward if you or karen had to dance with any of the nominees for king. “ the smile on her face is totally murdering her zygomaticus muscles. her nails are digging into the crumpled paper that is her calculus test, but her other hand is reaching for gretchen’s and she hopes that’s enough of a distraction. “ i was thinking we could update all of my social media accounts. wouldn’t want someone digging up my linkedin and deciding i care too much about the degradation of nairobi national park to be cool. ” she clears her throat before she can start citing the university of hawaiʻi. discussion for another time, with another time meaning when she’s lowered into her grave. “ for example. “

she attempts to retrieve her water bottle from her backpack, dislodging even more of kevin’s business cards. the wind sends them soaring to the quad, the bus stop, wherever the cady who cared too much about pollution went. “ when are you getting picked up? maybe we could spend some time at a restaurant or your house or whatever. “

[hellodenisestuff]

Sept 10-17, 2023

I had planned to write this blog on Substack but it got too complicated for me so I will continue these African Adventure posts on Tumblr.com.

This will be the journey to Kenya to participate in the volunteer program of African Impact in the Pardamat conservancy of the Kenya National Wildlife Reserve, Masai Mara.

What a long journey from Hawaii to Kenya. Fortunately I have a very good friend, Maggie, in Pacific who I get to visit when I am passing through San Francisco. I stayed two nights in her delightful company and rested up before the long flight to Kenya.

I arrived several days several days after I was exposed to Covid at work. I wore a mask on the flight but where 5 days had passed we thought we were safe, which proved to be true, but I was not fully comfortable till the 14th day had passed. I never got it. Hooray! Those around me could breathe a sigh of relief as well. I am vaccinated up to the gills so maybe that saved me?

Anyway, I digress. i flew KLM. airways which is marvelous. Great service. Seems they were always offering food or drink or hot towels. I watched 4 movies on the first leg which ended in Amsterdam for a three hour layover.

Because I get wheelchair service, I did not find my friend Joanne who was also traveling on the same flight to our destination in Kenya till we were ready to board the next flight for the final leg of our journey.

We got in somewhere around 10:30 PM after an aborted landing because there was debris on the landing strip! Finally after circling and losing our place in the landing line we did so.

Went thru the usual immigration and customs, again not seeing Joanne. I went outside and waited and waited, and was getting worried. A nice young soldier asked what I needed and he called the man who was to-pick us up, who was with Bonfire Adventures and tours. He found us and we waited some more. Finally Joanne appeared and we walked to the car and were driven to Masai Lodge near the town of Rongai. It is on the Southern border of the National Park. The drive took over an hour. The last 3 miles over an horrendous dirt road. We arrived around 1 AM pooped but happy to be back in Kenya.

We love that lodge. It. is mainly for the local people. Despite its name, it is run primarily by Samburu people. the Samburu are cousins to the Maasai. The lodge looks out over the Nairobi Game Park. Animals come into the large green area below the lodge which sits on a hill. There we see warthogs, antelope and baboons. There are tree hyrax and rock hyrax busy in the surrounding areas. The tree hyrax are quite used to people. Cute little creatures resembling a bunny without the long ears.

The 4 nights at the lodge allowed us to get over jet lag and start to get used to the altitude. It is like Denver, a mile high.

I was able to visit my dear friend, Dr. Paul Sayer, my colleague from teaching at the veterinary School in Nairobi back in 1967-1969. It was delightful to be with him and catch up on our lives and reminisce about the old days. (See-my book African Sojourns on Amazon.com to see what we did back then…)

The next day Joanne and I went to visit her friend, Rachel Kabue, who founded and runs The Cat Sanctuary in Nairobi. There are about 170 cats there now as she found homes for close to 130 of the most fit ones recently. Some there are very thin, and I fear may have some sort of blood parasite or Feline leukemia. However most are quite fit; they are all sweet and get along. She also has rescued a few dogs who live together with the cats. It is scrupulously clean with no odor.

Rachel, Some of the cats and dogs, Denise and friend, and Joanne and another rescue.

I spent one day sleeping a lot. Another day we had a guided walk by a Samburu man in full regalia looking very exotic and handsome in his colorful short dress like outfit with knee high socks and beaded ornaments and carrying the spear in case we ran into any aggressive animals. As it happened we only saw Impala and some monkeys and baboons. We met up with two Masai gentlemen in Western clothes who ran a nearby lodge and were friendly and fun. They all wanted photos which Joanne took but I have not got them right now. Will send next time.

The African Impact Driver came for us to transport us to Brackenhurst Conference Center in the Highlands in a town called Limuru. It is at 7000 feet so it has rather brisk evenings. It always tickles me when there, as after dinner, I come back to a bed with a hot water bottle in it. There we rested till the next morning where we would start out at 8:30 AM for the long drive to Pardamat.

I will write more tomorrow about the first week at the volunteer placement.

[nairobifoods]

A Day of Indulgence in Westlands: Best Spots for Breakfast, Dinner, and Happy Hour

Discover the best spots for breakfast, dinner, and happy hour in Westlands. Start your day at Butter’d Buns Nairobi and end with the city's finest wine bars.

[carlamathew00]

Good Places To Eat For Breakfast In Nairobi | Butter Buns Nairobi

Nairobi Street Kitchen offers a taste of Kenya's unique flavours. Immerse yourself in a Good Authentic Mexican Food In Nairobi experience as we introduce you to the real flavours and fragrances of Nairobi's thriving street food industry.

[the-good-projxct]

March 3rd, 2024

10:19pm Listening to Kirby Loved by you, sitting in my room in Karen with Kendi. Yo! Life is so Gøod. I am clearly on a romantic high hihihi but here we are. I had such a Gøod weekend. Munene got here and didn’t even make it into the house. SweSwe offered him a seat outside and they proceeded to drink tea and chat for HOURS. Moka wa Mwiti and Karimi also clicked with him and they talked meru history, traditions, family connections, jokes and so much more. I was just floating in some parts. We had some really Gøod laughs. I could see they were so happy to have him there. Like deep joy and reverence. I feel like who I have become is who they dreamed I would be. After hours of their conversation, which I could not and would not interrupt because it made me happy as well, we finally left. We walked to the hub then went and got supper at McFry’s. It was a simple yummy meal. We had a conversation on hopes and dreams and what I Love about him is we always end up on the same page. Always. Is this Love? Anyway, then we went to an air bnb for a likkle one on one staycation. It was a lovely spot and the number was 1018 which helluur 18. It was on the 10th floor with a pretty nice view of Nairobi especially at night. We had the best night. Like yo, I am so happy. I am so grateful to the Universe and Creator for bringing me to this point in my life and for bringing a deep Love into my life. It feels sooo Gøod. Our Love languages match so hard. So yeah, it was a magikal night. I Love me. I Love him. I Love Life. I Love the Life we are making. We had a slow sunday, got up, got food at the rooftop restaurant then went back to the airbnb and took a cuddly nap. We woke up, came to Karen and again he sat with the elders and they chatted for hours. Everyone in the house is soooo happy about him. LMAO. I cannot even. Yo, even Baby Jason Mwenda was playing with him yesterday, it was so cute. A glimpse into our future. Hehe. Today, we walked down to the farm and checked out the cows and rabbits. As we walked down, we reminisced on how we used to walk that same lane as pre-teens. Life is so interesting eh. Anyway, today is Sunday so it was family day at the house so he came into a full house and folx kinda caught on to our vibe. We are mad subtle but also Love is LOUD. It is so funny that I am writing on Love in the Gøod manifesto, or I am supposed to be writing on Love and here I am falling in Love. Remember that thing about each teaching taught me a real life lesson. I am so glad Love was the last one to write because as I am writing it, I am falling in Love. The last time I fell in Love was 15 yrs ago and that was the only time I ever fell in Love. Now here I am again and I am ready. I am willing. I am. I am so deeply in Love with myself that I know I can Love and be Loved. I really like Sundays at the house because we have family but also because it is cabbage for supper day. Yo, I love cabbage. I had three bowls of it till my belly literally hurt. I came upstairs to lie down because I was soo full. I was hoping to draw instead of write today but my Krita disappeared and I don’t have the vibes to redownload it. So I will likely draw with pen and pencil in a few days. I am feeling the urge to draw creep back in. Crazy eh. It’s been a while. KaMami and LoustaLoustaman get here tomorrow. I am so hyped to see them and spend time with them in the city of God. I Love Life. Life is Gøod. I am Gøod. I am Saint. Ase. Ase.

[depressopax]

Promise

Nairobi/Ágata Jiménez x gender neutral reader

Fandom - La casa de papel/Money Heist

⚠This fanfiction includes spoiler for LCDP season 3-5!⚠

Pairing: Nairobi x gender neutral reader Genre: Fluff, hurt/comfort Warning(s): Spoilers for La casa de papel season 3-5! Character injury, mentions of scars, blood and death. Just domestic life with Nairobi. Reader is gender-neutral.  Words: 1K Summary: After the second heist, Nairobi and reader get their happy ending, together.  English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3

|| AO3 link || Masterlist || Request ||

Promise

The kitchen smells of dish-soap and you hum softly to the radio in the kitchen, whilst cleaning the dishes from tonight's dinner. The bedroom door squeaks and Nairobi sneaks out of the son, Axels room, softly shutting the door behind her. She lets out a sigh and walks up to you, putting her arms around your waist and pulls you close. The engagement ring on her long fingers shine in the dim lighted kitchen, and a smile creeps up on your face, despite the exhaustion after a night of no sleep. You still can’t believe you’ll get to marry her one day. 

“He’s finally asleep?”

“Yea. He’s too damn obsessed with those video games.” she murmurs, her breath warm against your shirt. 

“Aww, poor thing.” 

“Need help with the dishes, amore?” 

You look at the mountain of dirty plates and glasses and sighs. And you thought you were almost done.

“Yes, please.” 

She puts on some gloves too, and playfully nudges you to the side with her hip. You grin at her, and together you take care of the house. 

Half an hour later, you’re cuddled up on the couch. The traffic from outside fills the silence in the room, and a soft breeze from the open window strokes your face. You lean against your fiancées shoulder, nuzzling your face against her neck, inhaling her scent. Moments like this makes you both forget the chaotic life you live.

It’s been two years since the heist against the Bank of Spain, and the memories of it are fresh. You all got out safely, as according to the Professor's plan, but it was a close one. You still wake up at nights, sweaty and out of breath, when thinking of it all. It’s always there, in the back of your mind. For Nairobi, too. The worst part was almost losing her. You try to shake off the memories, and continue holding the woman you love. Your hands stroke her soft skin, until finding the scar on her stomach. The bullet that almost killed her. Almost. 

“You alright, darling?” Her voice is soft and sleepy. God, she’s perfect. As you stare at her beautiful face in awe - the dark eyes and crooked nose, and those lips - you forget to reply. 

“Hey?” 

“Hmmm?” 

She grins.

“Someones distracted?” She kisses your cheek and neck, causing a shiver to run down your spine. 

“No. I was just… Thinking.” 

“You look tired.” She strokes your cheek and her expression turns concerned. “You’re thinking of the heist.” 

“No.” But there's no point in lying to your fiancée. She can read you like an open book. Nairobi knows you better than anyone else. 

“I’ve been having nightmares.” you swallow down tears threatening to well up. Noticing how frantically you’re blinking your eyes, her face softens.

“Hey…” she pulls you in for a hug, and you allow yourself to sob. 

“We’re okay.” Nairobi whispers. You seek her warmth, her comfort and love. She’s like a drug. 

“I almost lost you.”

She tenses a bit, before continuing to rub your back soothingly.

“But you didn’t.” she tries. 

You look up at her, but it’s hard to look mad when she gives you that sheepish smile. 

“I’m right here.” Still not having convinced you, she sighs “And I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Promise?” 

She wipes the tears from your puffy eyes and looks at you. Her dark eyes meet yours, and you can almost see your own reflection in them. 

How many times have you not had this conversation? How many times have you woken up in panic, thinking she’s gone? How many times has Nairobi panicked, thinking she doesn’t deserve you, nor her son? Promise. That has become your mantra. A word the two of you repeat, time after time, whenever shit gets rough.

“I promise.” she says, and you let out a shaky, yet relieved exhale. From Axel's room, soft snores can be heard. You giggle.

“He’s such a damn heavy sleeper. Like his mama.” 

Nairobi laughs and squeezes you tight to her chest.

“I’m not! And I don’t snore.” 

Your face says it all, and she grins.

“Alright! Maybe I do.” 

You sit on the couch, cuddled up for a long time, a comfortable silence falling between the two of you.

“I love you.” you whisper.

“I love you too.”

You look at her again, and almost lose your breath. You’ve been through hell and back with her, and sometimes it’s hard to believe that you’re both sitting here, safe and sound. She’s breathtakingly beautiful, like the first time you saw her, in the Toledo House before the first heist. Now, years later, she’s still the most beautiful woman you’ve laid eyes on. 

“I can’t wait to marry you.” you whisper, totally in awe of her. 

“I can’t wait to marry you either. And then, you’ll be mine forever.” 

Now it’s her turn to look at you intensely. She doesn’t say it out loud, but when she looks at you, she can see the future in them. She hates the sense of familiarity those puffy eyes gives her. She’s seen you cry many times. The only thing that hurt more than getting shot, was seeing the panic and devastation written on your face. The pain as you screamed her name and begged her to stay alive. And then it was the tears of relief when she woke up after the surgery. It is something Nairobi will never forget. 

She’s made a promise to herself, too. To keep you - and Axel - safe no matter what. After everything she’s been through, she finally has hopes for the future, thanks to you.

“Forever, huh? Sounds good.” You give her a playful grin. “Promise you’ll love me forever?”

She rolls her eyes, but still can’t resist your playful charm. Nairobi leans closer. With her lips against yours, she whispers:

“I promise.”

This story was based on request:

Thank you sm anon for the request! And I'm so so glad you like my fanfictions! It makes me so happy ahhh 😭💕 And HOLY SHIII- you're so real for this request 🥺 I'm still in pain from THAT mf scene :( I hope this can take some of the pain away lol 😭 And I hope you like the story! Have an amazing day. <3

Hey uhm just so you guys know, this is the canon ending.

NAIROBI IS ALIVE AND WELL!!!

(I have a whole ass OC dedicated to dating Nairobi and giving her a happy ending - I'm not kidding <3)

[dawgfan4life]

RICH SUGAR MUMMY LOOKING FOR A TOYBOY IN KITENGELA

Hi Guys. My name is Evalyne 35 years old and I work and live in Nairobi, Mlolongo area but I work in Kajiado county Kitengela. I came across this page some hours ago and I was very impressed with the posts I saw. My age is 35 hopefully I will get one sexually hot and active sugar boy who is ready to be spoilt sexually. I guess you know what a sugar mummy wants in life. I would want to be with the best of the best. I am a businesswoman. I work for no one but for myself. I am not married for ur information nor have I ever been. I do have 1 baby girl from my previous relationships though we parted away,. I have not really had a man to go with so I can not say how it really feels. I need someone ready to learn my style and to love and appreciate me. What you have to note is that I am a fun-loving woman woman who loves to adventure new things. I need serious guys for this but not those who seem joker. This is just advice to any joker out there, bother me not. I need someone serious so we can have a mature relationship. I need someone who can be very romantic times with a woman like me. I as a sugar mummy will provide absolutely all he would ever want to be happy and get him much more than he ever dreamed of. Thanks, Agent for agreeing to get me posted on your site

Ready to date Evalyne or other sugar mummies in Kenya? TEXT Admin on Telegram: https://t.me/sweetadmin254

[kenyatrunomadstours]

Exploring Attractions And Visiting The Places Of Interest In Nairobi

If you’re looking for an authentic safari experience, Kenya is the place for you. Nairobi is a captivating city in Kenya that has amazing wildlife, incredible national parks, and a fascinating local culture. It seems to be a great destination for your first or fifth trip to the African Continent! Nairobi in Kenya is such a magical city, where discovery and adventure go hand in hand. You can learn about the best places to visit, eat, and explore in Nairobi from expert and experienced safari and tour operators. They will tell you about the most amazing and unique things to do in the city!

It’s a country full of diverse landscapes, unique cultures, unspoiled beaches, world-class hotels, and unforgettable wildlife experiences! Amongst other things to do in Nairobi, the Nairobi safari tour package allows you to explore some of the best that Nairobi offers. It will surely make your trip fulfilling. On a trip to Nairobi, you can explore a plenty of attractions and places of interest such as.

Nairobi National Park

The Nairobi National Park is right next to Nairobi city, and everyone should visit it when they are in the city. You can see big cats, giraffes, rhinos, and wildebeest there without worrying about the time of year or travel difficulty. A Nairobi Safari Walk is a great thing to do in the Nairobi National Park. It is a great option for first-time visitors to the country. Tour operators can arrange a Nairobi National Park walking tour and are happy to bring you to the Parks!

Giraffe Center

Make sure to head to the Giraffe Centre while planning the Nairobi safari tour package. It is short drive away to the Nairobi National Park. It protects the beautiful animals that are in danger and teach the public about them. Here you can touch and feed the giraffes. You can also sponsor baby elephants and rhinos that are being taken care of in the nursery!

David & Daphne Sheldrick Wildlife Trust

The David & Daphne Sheldrick Wildlife Trust is an organization that assists orphaned animals. It is a unique opportunity for visitors to Nairobi to have an amazing tourism experience.

The Maasai Market

Make sure to spend some time at the Maasai Market while in Nairobi. It is located near the City Square, which is a few minutes away from Kenyatta International Convention Center. You will see how locals sell gorgeous handmade purses and Maasai jewelry. 

Kenya National Archives

Kenya National Archives is nearer to the market. It is a museum full of African and Kenyan sculptures, jewelry, and history. Perceive the carefully curated collections if you only have a few minutes to spare. If you love art, you will enjoy exploring some of the unique art styles and discovering some new favorites!

Kenyatta Towers

The Kenyatta International Convention Center is about 10 minutes away from the Kenyan National Archives. You can see the whole city of Nairobi and the nearby areas from there! This is one of the best chances to get a great view from above of the city.

Great Rift Valley Viewpoint

The Great Rift Valley viewpoint is an hour away from Nairobi by road. The valley is a wonderful place that you should see in your lifetime. You can enjoy watching birds and animals and seeing the beautiful scenery there. 

Karura Forest

You can find another amazing natural treasure in Nairobi, even though it is still technically part of the city. Visitors heading to the Karura Forest can enjoy a bike ride, hiking, and see waterfalls and caves along the way!

Ngong Hills Day Trip 

Visiting the scenic Ngong Hills is another amazing thing to do in Nairobi and a great day trip for tourists. 

Kiambethu Tea Farm 

Nairobi and the nearby areas of Kenya are fascinating places to discover. The culture and history is worth of discovery. Going to one of the wonderful tea farms in the Limuru area let you learn about the local culture as well. It is not far from the city capital by road.

The Nairobi Safari Tour Package by Kenya Tru Nomads promises an unforgettable blend of natural beauty, cultural richness, and heartwarming encounters.

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Travel to Tsavo for a true "Out of Africa" Experience

We stayed in a farm in Africa, at the foot of the Ngong Hills.  But that isn't really the start of our adventure.  It really started in Mombasa and getting picked up by our guide/driver Sammy.  He will be with us for the next 6 days from Mombasa to Tsavo to Amboseli National Park and then onto Nairobi.  Sammy is friendly, easy to talk to and knowledgeable about not just mammals but about all the birds that we are seeing.  This was especially important to Kati who loves to photograph all the birds in Africa.  It took us a couple of hours to get to our lodge in Tsavo East and the time went by quickly. We stayed at Satao Camp and were lucky enough to get the tent closest and facing a very popular water hole.  Like watching "Animal TV", over the next couple of days and nights we saw herds of elephants, antelope, giraffes, hippos and warthogs walk out of the bush and come to this waterhole.  This was the start of our adventure, and we were happy to be back in Africa.  

One of the many lions we came upon watching, waiting and enjoying the sunset.

Why Tsavo?

Tsavo is the place where there were two man-eating lions roamed and ate over 100 people in 1898 as depicted in the movie The Ghost and the Darkness starring Val Kilmer and Michael Douglas.  Tsavo East is the largest game park in Kenya, and it was a choice we had to make: Tsavo East or Tsavo West.  We chose Tsavo East mainly because of Satao Camp, and we are happy we did.  Over the next 4 days we saw lions after a kill, the red elephants of Tsavo, hippos, giraffes, and a leopard in a tree with its kill.  The landscape was surreal.  Dusty and dry, Tsavo needed the rains.  But they never came while we were there.  We also found The Real Africa, like the one described by Isak Dinesen's book Out of Africa.   Set out in the middle of the bush, our camp and the water hole were perfectly situated for the game drives and to see a multitude of animals coming and going from miles away to drink. We could experience the joy of the elephants coming over a ridge and seeing the water hole.  Herds of zebra and antelope.  We even had a genet in the dining room that came one night looking for food.  With the fire roaring, we ate delicious food for breakfast, lunch and dinner and had game drives most mornings and evenings.  We had a whole day game drive on one of the days and it proved spectacular as we saw 5 lions on a hunt, and then they came and sat down.  We were so close as they relaxed, slept and kept vigil.  This was an incredible experience and we really felt that we found The Real Africa.     This was why we came back to Africa.  It did not have the multitude of animals like Masai Mara, but it had the look and feel of a real African adventure.  Don't get me wrong, if there was one place, I would recommend seeing the Big 5 it would be the Masai Mara or to experience the Great Migration.  But we were looking for something different.  Something that I had not experienced since I lived in Africa. Something that was totally unexpected.  And Tsavo delivered.    

A herd of Zebras looking to finally get a drink in the dry and dusty savannah.

An Incredible Adventure

This was the fourth time Kati and I have been to Kenya.  We have also explored Uganda and Egypt, and I have lived for over 4 years in Zimbabwe and almost a year in South Africa.  We have also traveled to Cape Verde, Botswana, and Morocco, so we are not strangers to the African continent. But this time we wanted something different.  We wanted an "Out of Africa" adventure filled with animals, tented camps and great scenery.  And we got just that. With our tent, beautifully decorated with old Africa furnishings and overlooking the water hole, we were able to view animals from a couple of kilometers away traveling through the dusty bush.  The obvious joy that elephants experience when finally viewing the water hold was incredible.  They would start to trot, flapping their ears almost with smiles on their faces.  Big Tuskers, mothers with their young, and single bulls all came and went. We never tired of it. In the evenings, Impala filled the camp while jackals were on the prowl.  Hippos left the water hole and went to graze all night returning in the morning and elephants took over.  Zebra, water buck and giraffe all visited.  And there was a genet who would come into the dining room looking for something to eat before heading back into the bush. From our tent and around the camp we also saw owls, eagles and oryx. This all happened before we even left for a game drive.  This was a nightly occurrence as we lie in bed watching the animals come and go in front of us.  It was amazing. There were many camps to choose from in Tsavo, but we chose Satao Camp.  It gave us that great adventure and "Out of Africa" feeling, and the cost was good.  We found the Real Africa and will return here in the future.

The view from our tent overlooking the water hole.

Game Drives

We had two private game drives a day set up.  Both in the morning and evening.  Sammy our guide suggested we take one day and go further into the park and spend the day.  Satao Camp prepared a lunch box for us and we set out on our journey.  Tsavo was incredibly dry and dusty.  The red earth filled with air as we looked for the iconic African animals.  Sammy was outstanding and knowledgeable about all the animals, the park, birds and where to go for the best views.  One of the best aspects of Tsavo is that it is uncrowded, and we were virtually alone most of the time we were there. The final day, as we were almost out of the park, looking for a cheetah, we heard that there was a leopard in a tree with its kill.  Sammy asked if we wanted to go back.  Of course we did!  A leopard in a tree?  That was on my want list for a long time.  Having seen 4 leopards previously, they were all on the ground I really wanted to see a leopard with a kill up in a tree. We raced to where it was and by the time we got there, the leopard left the tree.  But as we got discouraged, Sammy said he spotted it in another tree.  It had climbed up to keep an eye on his kill, and there he was.  Sammy spotted it and we were overjoyed as we snapped photos. Sammy was a great guide filled with knowledge and willing to share.  We loved spending our time with him and were sad when we left him in Nairobi.

Finally we found the Leopard in a tree. He had his kill in a nearby tree and kept watch.

Our Final Word

After four incredible days, we had to say goodbye to Tsavo.  It was filled with iconic African wildlife including leopards, lions, elephants, giraffe, kudu, waterbuck, impala, zebra, oryx, owls, eagles and a whole lot more.  We continued our adventure to Amboseli National Park which is famous for its large herds of elephants and spectacular views of Mount Kilimanjaro.  We will cover that part of the adventure in another post. We wanted to find the Real Africa and we did.  We wanted that true Out of Africa experience, and we got it in Tsavo.  We ate delicious food under the African moon, watched animals at the water hole, had incredible game drives with Sammy our guide every day and still had time to read, write and relax.  This adventure checked off all the boxes for us and we look forward to returning someday. If you are looking for a true, authentic African adventure that is not overrun by tourists then look to Tsavo and Satao Camp.  We just might see you there. Dennis would like that.   This map was created with Wanderlog, a trip planner on iOS and Android        

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The Japanese, French, British, and Americans have sent runners to train in Iten. “Everybody runs here,” an athlete said.Illustration by Cristiana Couciero; Source photographs from Getty

Why Were Two Female Running Champions Killed in Kenya 🇰🇪?

Iten, a small town in the Great Rift Valley, Elgeyo-Marakwet County, Republic of Kenya became the long-distance-running capital of the world. Then, within a span of six months, two élite athletes were found dead.

— By Alexis Okeowo | April 10, 2023

When Agnes Tirop was eleven, she was already as fast as athletes twice her age. “She loved running, and she shined,” her brother Martin told me. Tirop, who was born in 1995, was small-boned and delicate-featured, with cropped hair. Even as a child, she was self-possessed, with a singular focus on improving her speed. She grew up in the Kenyan village of Nandi, in the Great Rift Valley, a four-thousand-mile-long volcanic trench of steep escarpments, green hills, and soda lakes that is visible from space. She came from a big family. Her father, Vincent, had been a long-distance runner in his youth—as had her grandfather—but Vincent found it difficult to earn a living from the sport. Instead, each day he bought milk from local farmers and took it by bicycle to sell at the market in the city of Eldoret, twenty-nine miles away. The family waited, sometimes until midnight, for him to bring home food for them to eat. Despite having little money, Vincent saved five litres of milk every week for his children, so that they would have the nutrition they needed in order to train. “We were dirt poor,” Martin said. “We started running because of poverty.”

Several of the children showed an early aptitude for the sport, but it was clear that Tirop was special. She began training in primary school, running barefoot on the roads in her village. Joan Chelimo, who trained with Tirop, said that she always wanted to put on bouncy Kalenjin music before practice. “She was very young, and she was beating senior athletes,” Chelimo said. At fifteen, Tirop won the five-thousand-metre race at a national junior competition. Later that year, she flew to South Africa for an international junior race, and came in second. When she returned home, her family threw her a party, serving meat and rice and playing music for hours. “It was her first time out of the country, and we felt very happy and proud,” Vincent said. Tirop soon started giving some of her winnings to her family, so that they could build a house. “She paid for my school fees—and I’m older than her!” Martin said.

The Great Rift Valley in Kenya—and particularly a small town called Iten, two hours from Nandi—has become, by some measures, the running capital of the world. Iten, like many villages in the area, sits in the mountains, almost eight thousand feet above sea level, but you can descend four thousand feet into the valley by car within half an hour. Athletes there can “live high and train low,” spending their non-training days at altitude so that their lungs become more efficient but running at a lower elevation, where the air is more oxygen-rich. Kenya has won more élite marathons than any other country in the past twenty years, and many of its winners have come from the Great Rift Valley. After Ibrahim Hussein, who was from Iten, became the first African to win the New York City Marathon, in 1987, the town’s reputation was cemented. A sign above the main road welcomes visitors to the “home of champions.” Kenya’s best athletes now train in the area, including the world’s most decorated living marathoner, Eliud Kipchoge. The Japanese, French, British, and Americans have sent runners to train there. “Iten is the nerve center,” Vincent Onywera, who teaches exercise and sports science at Kenya College of Accountancy University, in Nairobi, told me.

When Tirop was in secondary school, she met a man named Ibrahim Rotich, who was about fifteen years older. Rotich was a big, charming man, and he offered to manage and coach Tirop. Tirop already had a coach, and Rotich seemed, to Tirop’s family, to have little formal experience, but Tirop accepted his offer. Tirop’s sisters later observed Rotich driving her around, acting like her coach. Rotich stated recently that he “invested heavily” in preparing Tirop to “be the champion she was by supporting her athletics career and being by her side during training as her assistant and footing her medical bills.” Daisy Jepkemei, Tirop’s childhood best friend, told me that she was impressed by Rotich’s dedication: “He was encouraging.” In 2014, Tirop won the African Cross Country Championship, in Uganda. The next year, she won the World Athletics Cross Country Championships, in China—the youngest winner of that race in thirty years. “I had no fear,” she said, at the time. “I was just trying to run my own race.”

Tirop soon dropped out of school. Her parents protested, suspecting that Rotich was to blame. Tirop loved studying languages, especially Kiswahili. “She was almost finished with secondary school,” Martin told me. The family complained to local authorities that she had left school without their permission, but Rotich and Tirop fled town, eventually moving to Iten. Nahashon Kibon, Tirop’s first coach, warned her about becoming romantically involved with Rotich; this upset Tirop, and she and Kibon went their separate ways. “She was not happy with me,” he said. She began running at a training camp in Iten. In 2016, she and Rotich married in secret, according to court documents. Rotich discouraged her from talking to her parents. Martha Akello, another runner, who lived next door to the couple in Iten, was disturbed by Rotich’s controlling behavior. She told me that the couple shared a phone. “We were neighbors, but he did not permit her to mingle with the other ladies,” she said. “He had to accompany her to training. It’s like she was living in prison.”

In mid-2017, Tirop told Akello that she was pregnant. She seemed happy, and asked Akello for advice on how to balance motherhood with her running career. That fall, Akello learned that she was also pregnant. She was eager to share the news with Tirop, but when they met, Akello recalled, Tirop told her, “Unfortunately, I’m not pregnant anymore.” According to Akello, Tirop said that she had wanted to keep the baby, but that Rotich, who depended on her earnings for his income, had forced her to get an abortion. (Tirop’s other friends and family said that they had no knowledge of her pregnancy.) She told Akello that she regretted agreeing to the procedure and wished that Akello had been around when it happened. (A lawyer representing Rotich did not respond to repeated requests for comment; he hung up on me when I reached him by phone, and then blocked me.)

Tirop’s friends and family began to worry that she was falling into a pattern that was disturbingly common among female runners in Iten. “The husbands expect them to bring home money,” Njeri Migwi, the executive director of Usikimye, an advocacy group that focusses on gender-based violence, told me. “The minute they want certain levels of independence, the men abuse them.” Around 2018, Tirop reconnected with her family. She had Martin work as her pacemaker. Rotich was always around. “I didn’t have any power to separate them,” Martin said.

One morning last October, I went to visit Brother Colm O’Connell, a missionary and a track coach from Ireland who has lived for five decades in a cottage at a Catholic school in Iten. O’Connell, who is portly, with white sideburns, first came to Kenya in 1976, to teach geography, but ended up coaching track at the school full time. Eventually, he started training athletes hoping to run professionally, and he has become one of the most celebrated coaches in the region. O’Connell occasionally trains foreign athletes, but he focusses primarily on local runners. He had coached David Rudisha, a two-time Olympic gold medallist and two-time world champion. It had rained the night before I visited, and the air was cool and wet. A small group of runners were gathering near O’Connell’s home, stretching and jogging in place. “Have you guys got water, or are you O.K.?” O’Connell shouted. No one wanted water. He told me, “I don’t want them complaining down in the valley.”

Every morning in Iten, in the early hours, I saw people running: Kenyans and foreigners, men and women, with children not far behind. Some wore sneakers; others ran in sandals. “Everybody runs here,” Viola Cheptoo, an Olympic distance runner, told me. One of the people training with O’Connell was from the United Kingdom. “He decided to jump in the deep end,” O’Connell said. Another was a Kenyan American who ran for the University of Alabama. One of O’Connell’s female runners also served in the military and had just been called back to her barracks. Several of the athletes had represented Kenya in major international competitions. The runners headed down the road, and O’Connell and I followed in his pickup truck. We drove past a market in a grassy field, then dipped into the valley, which is a mile deep and filled with golden fields of ripening maize.

Running is Kenya’s most well-known pastime. Some of this national affinity might have biological roots. People in the Kalenjin ethnic group, and particularly those in the Nandi subgroup, who live in the Great Rift Valley, have developed—likely as a result of centuries at high elevation—deeper-than-average lung capacities, bigger and more numerous red blood cells (which transport oxygen to muscles), and lower body masses. Onywera told me that he has found similar traits in Ethiopian communities that also live in the Rift Valley. Many Kenyans consume a milk-rich diet, which is helpful in childhood development. “They also have psychological readiness—the mental belief that they are the best,” Onywera said. The Kalenjin have a long tradition of competing in running, wrestling, and tug-of-war. In the nineteen-twenties, British missionaries encouraged Kalenjin men to join colonial running competitions as a way of distracting them from cattle raiding, political unrest, and potential rebellion. “They wanted to get them to focus on athletics,” Lorna Kimaiyo, a former runner who is now writing a dissertation on the history of Kenyan female runners, told me. The King’s African Rifles, a brutal colonial regiment that put down the Mau Mau rebellion, recruited Kalenjin men to compete in its athletic competitions.

Kenya won its first Olympic medal in track in 1964, the year after it gained independence from Britain. At that time, there was no official running league in Kenya; the telecommunications agency, the post office, the rail and port authorities, and the national airline operated leagues for their employees. Early talents came out of the military. (The Kenya Defense Forces still allows soldiers to take leave in order to race.) In the seventies, American universities began recruiting Kenyan runners, expanding access to formal training. Kenya won four Olympic gold medals in Seoul in 1988; three of the medallists were attending college in the United States. Shoe companies and talent agencies began offering sponsorships and contracts, making the sport more lucrative. Running was soon seen as the best way out of poverty in Kenya.

Young Kenyans who showed promise started coming to Iten to find coaches who would train them. “You have nothing else to do except run,” Joan Jepkorir, an athlete from Iten, told me. Rudisha, who holds the world record in the eight-hundred-metre, moved to Iten in high school. He told me, “Even the girls were better than me.” Training centers and guesthouses—many started by former champions—sprang up. “All of us were farmers, and all of a sudden we have people coming in with really huge amounts of money, winning races, getting millions,” Jepkorir said. In a reversal of colonial dynamics, about half the British national team now trains at the High-Altitude Training Center, a vast complex started by a Kalenjin Olympian. Programs are competitive. O’Connell told me, “Out of almost fifty in our youth group, only about ten are really going to make it to the top and make a living out of the sport.” Some choose to run for other countries instead. Some might take up other endurance sports, like cycling; in 1998, Kenya sent a skier, who first trained as a runner, to the Winter Olympics.

At first, only men ran competitively. But in 1984 the first Olympic women’s marathon was held in Los Angeles. “Kenyan women started to dominate in the nineties, when they were being recruited by American universities,” Kimaiyo said. Tegla Loroupe, a woman from the Great Rift Valley, won the New York marathon in 1994. But, when Kenyan women began to bring home significant prize money, they got a mixed reception. “They were not being celebrated in the Kalenjin community because of our patriarchal culture,” Kimaiyo said. Some men resented their wives’ independence. As O’Connell put it, “The lady is the breadwinner, the lady is the one who is known.” Still, young women began coming to Iten in the hope of finding success. “Most of the athletes in Kenya, they finish their education possibly at the primary or high-school level, and they have nothing, so they say, ‘I want to run,’ ” Jepkorir told me. “You pack your bags. You come to Iten. Your parents maybe give you just a hundred dollars to start your life. But you come to realize it’s not enough. . . . You say, ‘Shit, I’m broke. What do I do?’ That is when the predators come.”

In September, 2021, Tirop and a group of Kenyan runners travelled to the thousand-year-old German village of Herzogenaurach, in the Bavarian countryside. Herzogenaurach was the home town of the Dassler brothers, who, after a feud, founded the rival sneaker companies Adidas and Puma. Tirop was there to compete in the Adizero: Road to Records, organized by Adidas. By this time, she was one of the most successful runners in Kenya. In August, Tirop had competed in the five-thousand-metre race, at the Olympics in Tokyo, and taken fourth place. In Herzogenaurach, she competed in the ten-thousand-metre and finished in an astonishing thirty minutes and one second. She had broken the world record. At the end, Tirop—covered in sweat and wrapped in a huge Kenyan flag—said, “I’m so happy.”

Before the trip, Tirop had asked Martin to meet her and their sister Eve on the road between Eldoret and Iten. Tirop told her siblings that she wanted to leave Rotich. She said that he had been spending her money at bars while she was away, and that she was tired of it. He had become convinced that Tirop was having an affair, perhaps with a childhood friend who was now an Olympian. (The friend denied that this was so, but said that Rotich had grown paranoid about his relationship with Tirop, and was harassing him.) Soon Rotich arrived in a rage, with two police officers. Rotich claimed that Tirop had stolen the car, and the family went to the police station to settle the matter. The officers realized who Tirop was, Martin said, and let her go. But, before they left, he recalled, a female officer warned her to be “very careful,” because Rotich seemed dangerous.

Tirop went to stay with her parents. She told her siblings that Rotich had hit her. She told Martin that he had threatened to burn the house down if she left him. She had told others about Rotich’s behavior, too. In 2021, she told Milcah Chemos, an athletes’ representative from Athletics Kenya, which oversees the sport in the country, that Rotich had abused her. Chemos told me that she spoke to Tirop and Rotich. “She talked about the abuse, but at first she told me, ‘Let me finish my competition first,’ ” Chemos said. “I told him not to do anything and wait for her to finish her competition. Then we would talk.” Chemos seemed focussed on reconciling the couple, and on making sure that Tirop’s training was not interrupted. Chemos insisted that she “didn’t know the story fully,” and that Tirop hadn’t seemed ready to leave Rotich at the time. But Cheptoo, the Olympic distance runner, told me, “Every single time victims go to Athletics Kenya, they tell them to go sort out your own things in private, don’t put your business out there.” (A co-opted member of Athletics Kenya’s executive committee said that he wasn’t aware of Tirop’s story, but contested the idea that the organization turns a blind eye to such reports. He said that Athletics Kenya is now investigating issues of abuse involving its athletes. When The New Yorker reached out to further clarify the organization’s position, it did not respond.)

Before her trip to Herzogenaurach, Tirop went back to Iten to resume her training. She moved into a guesthouse at the training camp. “The first thing was to secure her,” Joseph Cheromei, who managed the camp, told me. “There was a competition coming up.” Cheromei said that he often saw his female runners being exploited by their partners. “I see it every day now,” he said. “The athletes win a race, the man needs to own the earnings, the woman refuses, and the problem arises. It affects the ladies’ performance.” He tried to help keep the peace: “I go and reconcile them.” In October, after the race in Germany, Rotich came to the camp, and Tirop agreed to go back home with him. Eve went with them, and spent the night in their spare room.

The next day, Rotich told Eve that he and Tirop were going to Nairobi for a competition. Eve had no choice but to leave. Later that day, though, she couldn’t reach Tirop. Rotich picked up the phone and told Eve that she was not around. The next morning, Tirop was found stabbed and beaten to death in her home. Rotich had fled, leaving a note, reportedly confessing to the crime and saying that the relationship had been “full of fights.” Police have said that they found a knife and a club at the scene. Rotich later admitted in an affidavit to killing Tirop, but pleaded not guilty to her murder, claiming that he was provoked into killing her because he believed she was having an affair with her childhood friend: “My late wife received a call which she put on speakerphone and had a very demeaning conversation about me with her lover which took me to the edge.” (The childhood friend denied that this call took place, saying that he stopped speaking with Tirop because of Rotich’s harassment.) After the killing, Rotich claimed that he “temporarily lost my mind and I kept driving aimlessly until I got [to] Mombasa.” He was arrested the day after Tirop’s body was found. According to Tirop’s family and their lawyer, Rotich was listed as the owner of several of the couple’s properties. (The lawyer would not make the deeds public because they have not yet been introduced in court.) Tirop’s funeral was held on October 23rd, and was attended by more than a thousand people, including prominent athletes and Kenyan politicians. It would have been her twenty-sixth birthday.

Last fall, I visited the home that Tirop had shared with Rotich, a gray brick house with mauve trim and lime-green doors. A shed outside held her exercise equipment. “Her shoes are still here,” Martin, who now lives there, told me. I went to her training camp. Cheromei was welcoming a group of Italian athletes; he has learned several European languages in order to work with the flood of international runners. Afterward, he took me on a tour, with Tirop’s friend and fellow-runner Mary Keitany. Tirop’s room at the camp was quiet, with a single bed under mosquito netting. “In America, when you have a boyfriend he can kill you or no?” she asked. I told her that there were laws that try to prevent this, but that domestic violence was still one of the leading causes of women being killed in the United States. “Like here in Kenya?” Keitany asked, surprised.

Tirop’s abuse seemed to be an open secret. But Tirop’s friends said that, by the time she competed in the Olympics, they had started to see a difference in her. She was wearing acrylic nails and red lipstick and plaiting her hair. She seemed to be gathering the confidence to finally leave Rotich. Ten days before her body was found, Tirop placed second at a race in Switzerland. Afterward, she had tea with some of the other athletes in Geneva. She asked Jepkorir why it was so much easier to divorce in Europe, and Jepkorir said that it was because women had more independence. “Then she said, ‘I wish divorcing was easier in Kenya,’ ” Jepkorir told me. “I should have said something then.”

When I arrived in Iten, I met up with several of Tirop’s friends, most of whom were current runners. The women greeted one another happily, and asked after Chelimo’s sister, who was pregnant. “When are we going to have your baby shower?” Chelimo teased Jepkorir. Keitany was travelling to New York the following week to be honored for winning the New York marathon four times. The talk turned to Tirop. “She had a good spirit,” Keitany said. After Tirop’s death, her friends had started a WhatsApp group to express their pain, and to discuss what they could do to prevent further violence. Eventually, they formed an organization called Tirop’s Angels, which aims to raise awareness about gender-based violence in Iten, and to offer resources for fighting it. “We want to see a change in this country, especially in our own communities,” Cheptoo told me.

One in three women in Kenya has experienced gender-based violence, according to a survey released this year by the Kenya National Bureau of Statistics. Teen pregnancy and early marriage are common, and when women marry they traditionally have little power in the household; women own less than two per cent of the country’s property in their names alone, the Kenya Land Alliance notes. Domestic violence is seen as a minor offense. “We still have cases of police stations turning away victims,” Sarah Ochwada, a lawyer who handles domestic-violence cases involving athletes, told me in an e-mail. “Because communities view domestic disputes as family issues they try to convince victims to withdraw criminal complaints.”

Many female runners come to Iten in search of an opportunity, and men, often with few real qualifications, offer to coach them. “The trend is that these young girls get into ‘relationships’ with older athletes or trainers who offer them protection against other predators,” Ochwada said. “But over time, it’s those same protectors who begin to abuse them.” When female athletes begin to make money, their male partners control their winnings. Jepkorir, who works for a company that manages athletes, told me that husbands often have control of female runners’ bank accounts. “This is normal to them,” she said. Cheptoo has seen her teammates crying over the issue at races. “They say, ‘My husband is yelling at me for not winning the race, he’s threatening he’ll beat me up when I get home.’ ” When women push back, partners lash out. “I don’t think there’s any woman who goes and asks for her money, and then nothing happens,” Cheptoo said.

Tirop’s Angels holds events at training camps, schools, and churches to raise awareness about domestic violence. The group has helped women leave abusive relationships and find housing. It has connected them with counsellors, provided them with food and clothing, and given them running shoes so that they can continue training. I went with members of Tirop’s Angels to visit a girl they were working with who had fled her home after being abused by her father. They were raising money to pay for her food, medicine, and school fees. She told me, “I’m O.K. now. I’m back in school.”

In October, 2021, the night before Tirop’s death, a twenty-seven-year-old runner named Edith Muthoni, who lived east of Nairobi, was killed; her throat was slit with a machete. In 2014, Lucy Kabuu, another runner, was sued by her ex-husband for control of half of her properties. In the Kenyan newspaper the Daily Nation, Kabuu has argued that although some of the properties are in his name, she bought them all with her winnings; she has also accused him of stealing from her bank accounts and assaulting her. (Kabuu’s ex-husband has denied the allegations, according to the Daily Nation, and argued that he contributed to the acquisition and development of several pieces of land. The case is ongoing.) This past February, the Olympic gold medallist Vivian Cheruiyot told another Kenyan paper, the Standard, that her husband, Moses Kiplagat, had taken control of her properties, including gas stations and farmland, and that, when she objected, he abused her physically and psychologically. (Kiplagat has denied the allegations, the Standard reported, and claimed that Cheruiyot was facing undisclosed social challenges.)

Many of Tirop’s friends also knew another runner, Damaris Mutua, who had a high forehead and a bright smile, and grew up in a town south of Nairobi. “She loved to talk, and she loved gospel music,” her sister Francisca told me. Mutua began running in primary school, and in 2010 she won a bronze medal for Kenya in the thousand-metre race at the Youth Olympics in Singapore. In 2022, Mutua moved to Iten to train. Later that year, she won second place in the Arab Cross Country Championships in Bahrain, and third place at the Luanda half marathon in Angola. When she returned from Luanda, she was in high spirits. Francisca recalled her saying, “I’ll be bringing back gold next time.”

When Mutua moved to Iten, she stayed with Akello, Tirop’s friend, whom she had met at races in Morocco and France. The women hiked, watched movies, and shared clothes like sisters. “We used to plan,” Akello said. “We had good goals—‘One day we need to run in New York, we need to run in Frankfurt, run in London.’ ” Mutua had a husband named Felix Mwendwa Ngila, and they had a son, who was seven. Ngila worked as a security guard in Qatar, and Mutua rarely saw him. But, after a few months of living with Akello, Mutua told her that she was moving out because her husband was coming to visit. “I said, ‘No problem,’ ” Akello told me. “But she lied to me.”

In fact, Mutua wanted to move in with an Ethiopian runner named Eskinder Hailemaryam Folie, with whom she was having an affair. Folie was tall, with a narrow face and short curls. Jepkorir, who knew him as a fellow-runner, told me that he seemed like a “nice guy.” Mutua and Folie had first met in 2021, at a bar, watching the Boston Marathon. Saleh Kiprotich, Folie’s close friend, frequently visited him and Mutua at their home, where Folie cooked Ethiopian food. When Mutua travelled, Folie sometimes took care of her son.

But over time, according to Kiprotich, Folie became worried that Mutua was going to cheat on him. He would monitor her movements and ask Kiprotich to run errands for her so that she wouldn’t have to leave the house. “He was so insecure and jealous,” Kiprotich said. Folie eventually forbade Kiprotich and other male friends to visit the house when he wasn’t there. In April, 2022, Mutua saw her husband during a layover in Qatar, which angered Folie. He told Kiprotich that he had spent money on Mutua for her gear, her training, and her son, but, now that she was winning races, she seemed less interested in him. “Men identify a lady who can run, then do everything for her, expecting that, when the lady becomes a star, he will be the one controlling the money,” Kiprotich told me.

Later in April, Mutua’s body was found on the bed in Folie’s home. She had been strangled. According to the police, Folie confessed to a friend that he had killed her, then went into hiding, likely in Ethiopia. He is wanted for arrest. A week after the killing, Kiprotich said, he and Folie spoke on the phone, and Folie blamed the killing on Mutua’s alleged lover. “I told him, ‘You’re lying,’ ” Kiprotich said. “Then he started saying that the lady had so many boyfriends that she was dating him and dating other guys at the same time. He told me, ‘I’ve spent a lot of money on this girl.’ ” (Folie did not respond to repeated messages from me, and from Kiprotich on my behalf, asking for comment.) Ngila, Mutua’s husband, was devastated. “The act was so inhuman,” he said. Akello was still reeling from Tirop’s death when she learned of Mutua’s. “I should have never let her leave my place,” she said. It was the second murder of an élite female runner in Iten within six months.

Recently, I met with Christine Muyanga and Purity Kalekye Mutui, two of Mutua’s friends, at a runners’ lodge in Iten. “The problem is that, if you compare the athletic careers of women and men, the women have more of a chance to succeed,” Muyanga said. Women tended to take time off to get married or raise children, reducing the number of them who are competitive at any given time. For men who were struggling to distinguish themselves, athletic romantic partners could be a lifeline. “They want that money, and, at the end of the day, even your husband can kill you for it,” Muyanga said. Mutua’s death came just a few months after Tirop’s Angels was formed. Cheptoo told me, “We’d been trying so hard to protect our sisters out there and call for the murders to stop, and it felt like the message was just falling on deaf ears.” At the lodge, Muyanga and Mutui showed me photographs of their children, and said that they did not want them to become runners. “I tell the small athletes, ‘If you have violence in your marriage, you have to sit down and share with your friends,’ ” Mutui told me. “If you stay silent, it can kill you.”

The Saturday before I left Iten, Tirop’s Angels held an event for women in the area at a local primary school. It was sunny but chilly, and the lawn was full of girls and women. Tirop’s Angels put on loud Kalenjin music, and the audience, wrapped in kikoy blankets, got up and danced. The members of Tirop’s Angels passed out brochures explaining the warning signs of domestic violence. A female doctor urged mothers to tell someone if their children were being abused. A few runners spoke about the violence they had experienced in their homes. Then Cheptoo took the microphone. “I think everybody knows what happened to Agnes,” she said. “Most of us know that Agnes was killed by her husband. In our community, domestic fights are common. . . . Isn’t it important for us to be talking with our daughters?”

Kenyan authorities are still searching for Folie. Francisca, Mutua’s sister, told me, “We just want justice to be served.” Rotich is in custody, and recently requested a plea bargain to reduce the charge to manslaughter because, he said, he killed Tirop as a result of an “extreme provocation that left me no other option.” The prosecution has declined his request, and his next hearing is expected this month. Tirop’s family say that they have recovered some of the properties. “We need him to face judgment,” Martin told me.

But the justice system is not often friendly to victims of gender-based violence. I spoke to Andolo Munga, who works on criminal investigations for Iten and the surrounding area. He said that the Tirop and Mutua families had his sympathies, but he contested my use of the term “domestic violence” to describe the cases. He suggested that the motive in Mutua’s killing had been a “domestic misunderstanding.” He asked me if I was married, and how old I was. “You must be having either a man friend or boyfriend?” Munga said. “Do you want to say it is all a bed of roses?” He continued, “In both cases, nobody had reported that she is being mishandled by the boyfriend or the husband. . . . Why had they not even reported it to Athletics Kenya?” I said that Tirop had talked to someone at Athletics Kenya about her abuse, but that, in general, women were often afraid to report violence, for fear that they would not be taken seriously. Munga told me that women had no reason to fear the police. Many, he said, simply preferred not to press charges, or to use “alternative dispute resolution,” a constitutionally enshrined system that allows conflicts to be mediated by local elders rather than by the courts. (A.D.R. is also seen by critics as focussed primarily on reconciling couples, even when partners remain violent.) “We get official reports, you start investigating, then they come and withdraw and say they’re going for A.D.R.,” Munga said.

Njeri Migwi, the advocacy-group director, told me that, as long as gender-based violence was seen as normal, laws criminalizing it meant nothing. “At health centers, where are the posters?” she asked. “Where is the messaging around gender-based violence? Where do we tell people it’s not O.K., and what it is, and how it can look for different people? It needs to be out there at the community level, in schools, in our curriculums.” Tirop’s Angels has been pushing the government to establish safe houses for victims, and response teams that are separate from police departments. They want prosecutors and police officers to receive more training in dealing with women’s claims, and for Athletics Kenya to create more resources for athletes who report abuse. Until then, the burden falls on girls to avoid dangerous situations. The group is urging young female runners to be wary of romantic entanglements with coaches or trainers, and to maintain control of their money once they get married. “You have to pay yourself,” Mary Keitany said. “You have to know your rights.” Migwi told me that she was hopeful about change coming from grassroots work. “Women talk,” she said. “We’re taking charge of our own stories.”

After the Tirop’s Angels event, several women approached Cheptoo for her phone number. “It’s been really good to know that people, especially women, finally trust us,” she said. She watched the crowd talking on the lawn, drinking tea and eating bread. “When we started Tirop’s Angels, it was out of anger, and I needed answers as to why this happened,” she said. “I’m still angry, and I don’t have any answers.” ♦

[hellodenisestuff]

First post this year, Sept 29, 2024

I have been in Kenya 16 days. Somehow it feels like an extension of last year, have I really  been away for nearly a year? Well,  yes,  and the old body feels the passage of time. For sure this is my last trip to Africa. I have be ben saying that for quite a few years, but the end is inevitable.

The  trip from Hawaii Island is always very long and tiring. This time extra so because of a 15 hour delay in Amsterdam due to a strike at the Jomo Kenyatta international Airport in Nairobi. People had risen up against the President Ruto’s decision to sell the airport to an Indian conglomerate or some such group. Foreign. Kenyans were incensed. 

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My friend and colleague, Marta Lepes, was traveling to volunteer with me at Pardamat conservancy of the greater Masai Mara through the auspices of the volunteer organization, African  Impact.  It was comforting to have a friend bear the difficulties of travel with me. 

There are other organizations that send volunteers throughout the world and to our spot in Kenya such as Go Eco and Conservation Africa, Africa edu., etc.

We had a few days to acclimate to the altitude, (a mile high) of Nairobi as the altitude will be the same where we will be for a month  for Marta and 6 weeks for me. We stayed at Maasai Lodge on the Southern end on the Nairobi National Park about an hour’s drive from the airport. It is a delightful place with individual bandas situated above a river and overlooking the Park where occasionally giraffe, rhino, etc., could be viewed. It is a very large facility built to accommodate conferences and other large groups but done in a way that felt cozy with small lounges scattered here and there and dining tables perched in alcoves overlooking the river. A large swimming pool resides at the bottom of the hill and waiters traipse up and down the steep incline serving those that enjoy the pool and beauty of the lower area. An adjacent field is dotted with baboon, and antelope and sometimes wart hogs and other creatures. Tree and rock Hyraxes peak out from their hiding places. 

We spent one day just chilling and the next two days going to see the Sheldrick Widlife trust orphanage and the Nairobi Game  park on Friday then Sat to see Rachel Kabue and her Nairobi Cat Sanctuary. We were amazed to hear there were now 600 cats at the sanctuary, yet the animals were well fed, happy playful and although sometimes a bit crotchety with each other, harmony reigned the majority of the time. 

She also had 6 dogs as they too needed  a home. all this and no odor, the place was spotless. The place being a small house not a  concrete and steel enclosure like one might have expected.

Sunday we were picked up by the Volunteer organization and transported the relatively short distance of a couple of hours drive to Limuru  to the Brackenhurst Conference Center. A huge, beautiful facility which I have described in previous blogs. It is at an elevation of 7000 feet so the air is quite crisp. I love that after dinner when getting into the comfy beds with multiple blankets, someone has placed a hot water bottle at the foot of the bed. 

There we met up with 3 other volunteers, a couple from Montreal, Canada and a gal from Cape Cod in USA. We exchanged the usual info of names interests, etc to get to know one another.

We has a lovely dinner, a good night’s sleep, huge breakfast and off we went around 8:30 AM to traverse the long drive 5 to 6 hours (with a stop in the big town of Narok to buy stuff we’d not remembered to pack or yummy snacks at the huge supermarket) to Pardamat conservancy and the facilities called the Wildlife Tourism Center of the Maasai Mara. 

Now two weeks have passed by here. the routine consists of many hours in the game vehicle observing animals and counting them. I discussed this in my posts in the past so time for some photos. Also pulling weeds, picking up trash, and even digging a ditch for water drainage along side the dirt road. 

The rains have come very early. Thunder showers in the late afternoon many days. The rain brings the lush green grass, but makes the road ways dreadful.