Thomas P.M. Barnett :: Weblog

Last day is pure treat.

First, Mukala and an aide show up for breakfast (quite good, surprisingly) at the camp mess with Moon and I. After that we tour the camp (takes about ten minutes, because it’s pretty small--like maybe 20 acres--it’s basically a camp-within-a-camp that still is run by the Kenyans, but awfully low-key, as in--building here and building there but nothing like some U.S. base).

We part, Mukala and I, promising to stay in touch (he’s been to US twice for training).

Then the same crew that went to Lamu yesterday heads back to the naval pier for a boat ride on the Spec Ops RIBs (rigid inflatable boats), which have attached swift boat teams. Moon gets to sit up front and gets a chance to drive. I and the LNOs stand in the back in the stand-up seats that the trigger pullers use when being inserted somewhere.

The boat goes 45-47 knots (roughly 60 mph, I am told) and turns on a dime (like a 30-yard radius that really works your arm muscles as you hold on). It’s not a ride where you can one-hand it without serious risk. The guys up front signal the turns by hand, which helps a lot, because leaning into them is critical for maintaining balance and not falling off (I imagine the water hurts plenty at that speed).

It’s a pretty thrilling ride, as one might imagine.

Then back to the base to get command briefs from the special warfare guys who just gave us the rides, explaining their mil-mil training with the Kenyan navy.

Then I’ve got ten minutes to final pack and eat and after heartfelt goodbyes all around, especially with Moon, who goes out of his way to explain how much he’s enjoyed our time together (he’s nowhere near as grateful as I am for the hours of exchange, telling him I could easily pen a Bob Kaplan-like volume on this trip alone), I’m in a truck to begin the very long trek home.

A staff sergeant runs me back to the pier. There waits Bes, a local charter guy with his medium-length speed boat (basically what I call a john boat with an outboard on back). I throw my luggage (ruck sack, rolling bag and Safari Joe’s package) and off we go, repeating the 45 minute trip to Lamu, but stopping this time across the bay to drop off at the grass-roof terminal they have there. We stop at dhows along the way and pick up people as well, which is interesting.

Bes is nice and takes my big bag on his shoulder for the one-third mile walk to the “terminal,” which is completely open air.

Guess who’s in the terminal? Mukala’s on the same flight, which goes down the coast southward first to Malindi and then up to Nairobi. So we chat more while waiting on the plane (he’s fascinated with the tale of Enterra, which I’m getting pretty good at telling), and then we sit in the back together, comparing family notes (he has two daughters in college and is approaching a 30-year retirement mark).

We finally part ways at the Merinda regional airport, after a quick 30-minute flight. I have to wait a bit for the flight to resume. Then it’s about 90 to Nairobi.

Then I have six hours to kill at the terminal (I write much of this, put together my travel voucher, organize my photos, and start “When Nixon Meets Mao,” which is great.

The flight from Nairobi to Amsterdam is packed, almost claustrophobically so. KLM really has shortened the leg room. I don’t sleep a wink, despite going from 2300 local overnight to 0500 local in Amsterdam.

I do find some place to lay down in Amsterdam and get about an hour, which helps me a lot.

Northwest flight to Detroit is much better. Same cool video system to choose from, a lot more leg room, and I’m not in the middle but aisle on the side (where I finish this diary).

A couple hours layover in Detroit coming up (basically after two nine-hour flights in a row), and then a short hop to Indy to catch a son’s b-day celebration and escort Kev to his weekly volunteering effort at a local art-house cinema. Tonight, I will win the prize for traveling furthest to see the movie: all the way from Manda Bay, Kenya!

All in all, this has been an exhausting but thrilling trip. Way too little sleep over time (five to six was the norm), but everyone was so absolutely nice. Funny to play photojournalist for the first time, but really cool. Always weird to be mixing up consulting (I got asked for strategic advice a lot) with reporting (most interviews were debates where I spoke as much as the other side) with snapping photos (trying to do a legit job) with being the show (like at NDC and elsewhere, where everyone introduced me as the influential author and never as the Esquire guy).

But hey, it’s a nice synergy across the board. I realize the privileges and the responsibilities and the opportunities, so I work it as hard as possible on trips like this, knowing the rewards coming back are immense over coming years.