The following is just a portion of a day’s writing, shared b/c of the good story that it is. So here is part of day seven, as recorded in my journal…
Announcement: “RACE DAY NAIROBI. Starting in ten minutes.” It’s been four months since the last race and I don’t really think anyone was missing it. Last time it became more stressful and exhausting for everyone rather than fun and competitive. This task was much shorter, though, and after nailing down the route for our scavenge hunt, our group set off in pretty good spirits. (Un?)fortunately, the mood and our race were short-lived. Let me just say this: when was the last time you were held hostage in an African arboretum?
Goal number one included taking a picture of a certain bench here. Well we easily found the bench – as well as the three forest rangers guarding it as if their lives depended on it, demanding 1000 shillings for the rights to take a single picture. For the record, that’s an astronomical rate by African standards and absurdly ludicrous. We instantly and defensively refused, snapped a quick, off-centered picture and began walking away. Well the rent-a-cops followed, complaining, and as we recorded the common name for a particular tree species per race goal number two, they made their way to chain-lock the gate entrance.
Yes, we were held against our will in a park – because we didn’t pay thirteen U.S. dollars to take a picture of a bench under a tree. Then we heard the lady talking into her walkie-talkie, “Yes, bring handcuffs. There are seven of them.” Katie was probably the most vocal rebel amidst all the chaos repeating over and over again, “You can’t do this! You can’t just hold us against our will!” Meanwhile, I became the crazy silent man, picking up a big stick and not letting go, finding a key and trying to unlock ourselves, and then literally attempting to lift the gate up off its hinges. I’m glad I was in a forced silence, though, because that is exactly the kind of situation where I would verbally blast those involved for their extreme incompetency.
All this time, Braedon has been talking on the phone with a local guy from Nairobi who works at our hostel trying to get the rangers to talk to him and sort things out. Of course, they would have nothing to do with that. The highlight comment then came as the guards yelled at Katie for how “rude” she was being. This came moments after they responded to her asking, “Where does it say we have to pay 1000 shillings?” with the ever so polite, “Well, if you had eyes, maybe you could see” in the same tone as an obnoxious teenage girl. Naturally we came to the sensible conclusion to make a run for it. Ok, well not exactly run (yet). We left the gate and started making our way down a trail tracing the outer rim of the park, looking for holes in the fene or bushes short enough to hop over.
Unfortunately, we had little luck. That is, until we came across a small hidden gate in the back corner of the park. Cindy was the first to spot it and with ZERO hesitation started booking it, not caring who was following, just trying to escape. When I heard the scream of “Gate!” go up, I started running as well – with a slightly different mindset. I couldn’t see the gate yet to realize it was unguarded and so I was thinking that if anyone saw us coming and tried to lock us in there as well, then that gate would not be closed without heavy resistance before the others could slip out. Not necessary. We tumbled out unimpeded and inhaled the sweet breaths of freedom.
“So who wants to bail on the rest of the race and go see a movie” propsed our fearless leader? With much laughter and still recounting our amazing new memory, there came unanimous consent. Off we went to the mall. We didn’t get the prize, but we definitely won this Race Day.”
