Thomas P.M. Barnett :: Weblog

Sleep in til 0900, then shower and pack and run through the resort to meet Moon and Goss at Safari Joe’s. Great guy and way cool shop. I buy a load of small stuff, with some low-end jewelry (I can’t afford the Tanzanite right now, so go with the Malachite--both of which are unique to single mines in Kenya). Joe has everything packed into a box, sealed up and tied off with a carrying handle. It’s my second carry-on from that point on.

Moon and Goss and I drive to Nairobi. We go through a special security and then we have some time to kill as the C-130 is late from Addis, with the liaisons aboard. When it lands on the tarmac, it’s a long and complex scene about loading up these huge pallets with gear and supplies for the well-digging engineer teams working down on the coast out of Manda Bay, where HOA has a COL (Contingency Operations Location) in an old Kenyan naval base.

So I hang out on the tarmac, watching this whole scene and interviewing anyone I can as time passes. No hats allowed. I have enough sun screen everywhere except my emerging bald spot, as I later discover …

Finally, the pallet thing is done and we get on, finding seats in the netted benches up front. All the liaison officers (two Ethiopian, one Djiboutian, one Brit, one Frech, the South Korean Marine) are there to tour the Manda Bay ops along with me and Moon (everyone’s first time), so it’s a jolly bunch.

Not much discussion on plane, due to intense sound that requires us all to wear ear plugs. I share some snacks with my Ethiopian major friend, Tesfa.

Lotsa dipping and chop on the flight down. No one told me the bit about low diving the airstrip (a remote field strip with a skeleton crew of our mil in tents) to make sure there’s no animals on the strip and then pulling up into one of those sharp banking turns before doing it all over for the real landing. I thought we had aborted for some reason but since no one on the place seemed worried, I just shrugged and rode it out. My stomach was good, so I figured, it’s just the way it is and I’d follow the professionals’ lead.

When we landed, some laughing from the LNOs (they like to rib the Americans in a friendly, professional way, which is fun to observe).

Cool to watch the rapid unload of the pallets. I snap many photos.

I hit the tarmac, shooting photos in all directions. I’m not exactly Mr. Aggressive Photojournalist. One officer walks up to me swearing in exasperation: he says he’s pissed he doesn’t have his books here for me to sign. I relax my sphincter muscles and keep on shooting. The Marines are in the area for an exercise and some mil-mil and civic action (coming up for me on Thursday), so there’s helos and all sorts of stuff going on. No big numbers on the strip, but it’s just fun to have some visuals to take advantage of.

Into these monster Toyota Landcruisers that seem right out of safari land. Short drive to the COL, which used to be called Camp Simba by the Kenyans. They still have facilities in the area and an O Club just outside the main gate. Instead of Camp Lemonier’s more substantial wire, this place is a lot simpler.

Moon and I take a quick couple of command briefs from the Navy commander who runs the place (my favorite part is warnings about baboons and spider monkeys who come and go as they please, oblivious to security and apparently unstoppable in terms of perimeter defense; the bits about black mambas and puff adders scare the shit outta me; and finally the notion that ants run the place and issue stinging bits has me a bit worried). Then we do the walking tour, with even more warnings on the ants (no worries, as I get through the whole time with no bites and more than a few photos taken of the baboons and monkeys). I’m snapping and taking notes and recording as we go along.

Then it’s dinner at the KBR-run mess. Actually pretty damn good. The mil here, like at Lemonier, have only good stuff to say about KBR, and I mean, unprompted testimonials. I see all the expeditionary construction going on (pretty small facility, actually, but settling in) and note how the Seabees and KBR work hand in glove, and I am admittedly impressed.

After dinner Moon and I go to the Kenyan O Club for drinks with a Brigadier General of the Kenyan Navy named Ngewa Mukala, a Keith David sound-alike who is a walking one-man show of African tales and philosophy and interesting observations about military life on the continent (think of Forrest Whittaker’s charming side of Amin, absent the scary stuff, and you approximate this guy’s winning charm). By now you know about the column I ended up writing about my “two wives” based on the discussion we had.

Moon and I share an “SWA” or southwest Asia wooden shack (see pix) that night (apparently so named because either used a lot there or built there). We both have walled off mini-dorms. Pretty nice actually, with no bugs whatsoever and nice AC, which the commander is adamant about keeping at 72 degrees. Any higher and the zoo starts coming in, he says.

Compared to the M*A*S*H-like green tents many others have (soon to be replaced with shacks like ours), it feels like a palace. Actually, I like this expeditionary base a whole lot more than Camp Lemonier, despite the more bare nature of the place).

I sleep just fine. The CLU-encased head is great, even if it’s quite a walk in the near-pitch dark from our shack. Makes you more aware of that 3am visit.