After successfully getting on the 8pm flight to Nairobi, I prepared myself once more for what feels like an eternity of a plane ride. I had 3 seats to myself after some maneuvering and it once again was nice. After getting settled in, the flight crew began to work their magic. I was extremely impressed with Kenya Airways, more so than British Airways, the crew was kind and courteous and definitely not stingy with the wine, nuts, or other items. They cracked jokes and were helpful and all in all it was a great flying experience. The movie selection was slightly better than that of British Airways but there tv show selection was definitely non-existent. I tried to get as much sleep as I can in but probably averaged a total of 4 ½ of the 8 ½ hour flight. Not too shabby. When I arrived at Jomo Kenyatta Airport I was blown away! It was nothing that I expected and it was definitely not Heathrow. Oh my god I felt like I walked into a meat packaging factory; too many bodies too little space, kind of like Time Square in New York. The heat was sweltering and I was suddenly and quickly reintroduces to the heat of Africa. Now the airport functions as it is supposed to but it is definitely an old airport. I had to walk down some interrogation staircase to the gate which was a room at the base on the airport and ground level; just a bunch of chairs and people. Kind of reminds me of the DMV but the lights are dimmer and there are no safe driving posters on the wall. After sitting on the floor, then eventually getting a chair, it was time for us to depart. We walked across the tarmac to a plane that looked like a paper airplane a 3rd grader would make. I looked at all the people and assumed that there would be quite a lot of luggage following these people and looked at the plane and tried my best to figure out just how we were all going to fit. Surprisingly, as we got on to the crayon of a plane, there was space for all. Not a lot, but enough for a person to sit down and put their legs in front of them without touching the seat in front of them. The flight from Kenya to Juba is about 1 ½ hours, not long at all, but I couldn’t help but think just how this paper airplane was going to stay up in the air that long with all that it’s carrying. I’m not into physics or whatever study is focused around airplane dynamics, but something is too freaky about a plane being in the air…sorry went off on a tangent there. I made sure before I got on the plane that my bags were on the plane with me because I was not going to be in Juba with my bags somewhere hanging out in Kenya and you never know others sense of urgency and whether those bags would come back to you in a timely manner. I spent most of the flight sleeping but when I was awake I stared out the window. I’m not exactly sure where we were in relation to Juba or what country we were flying over but the landscape looked like something out of a national geographic magazine. Beautiful and rugged, maybe a rare place that has been untouched by man and modernization, definetly a lot of hills and places that look like a river once existed there. After the delicious breakfast of yogurt and a crossiant we had a few minutes to spare before landing in Juba. My fellow rowmate was not very talkative and seemed a little annoyed when my food box (the food had been eaten) hit him as it was making its way to the floor…oops! I’m sure he will get over it and avoid sitting next to me on any future flights. We landed in Juba and I was literally speechless (or speechless in my mind since I had no one to be speechless to). As we were landing I looked down to see a cluster of tukuls (mud huts) about 100 feet from where the runway began. When you get off the airplane you walk into the airport which is a room, about the size of hmm…lets say 30 ft by 30ft or something like that and you wait in a line to get your passport stamped. No real system and no questions, just get in where you fit in and get your stamp and move out the way. After you hit one side of the wall for the stamp you go to the opposite side to wait for your bags. No conveyor belts, pure man power moving the bags from the plane. Once you get your bags you take them to a table in the middle of the room and have “customs” check your bags which consists of you opening, they look, they mark with chalk and you go. I found it humourous then sad when the customs clerk, who was a woman, questioned what my tampons were and what they’re used for…no worries did not go into explicit detail. When you finish you walk outside and wait for your ride. World Vision was there to pick me up and take me to the office. I’m going to end my travel ordeals here but I will send an email update about the living conditions once I wrap my head around it all.
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