towels packed, will travel

In the morning, a thick, billowing mist blanketed the densely forested slopes of Mt. Marsabit, the extinct shield volcano that lends its name to one of Kenya’s largest and most sparsely populated counties. The soupy fog completely enveloped the rustic cabins of Marsabit Lodge, obscuring from view the picturesque clearing on which it sits. The tepid early morning light struggled to fight its way through the brume, but still managed to rouse D from his deep Sunday morning slumber, the first night of real rest he had enjoyed in a week during which consecutive 12-hour workdays melded into a continuous, frantic rush of last-minute pre-election preparations.

old Samburu women

We both volunteered to serve as observers for Kenya’s first presidential election under its new constitution. S was assigned to cover a county in western Kenya. Because D had organized a work trip to Kenya’s remote northern lands in December, the election team decided…

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