Travels with a Toto

I spent much of my extended stay in Africa earlier this year with my son, his wife and my heart - also known as Maxine - my delightful not quite two-year-old grand daughter. I've read a lot of bad press about traveling with small children in tow - how it is stressful for both them and parents to say nothing of an impostion on fellow-travelers. I guess I beg to differ! With planning and sensible expections, a two -year old is no more difficult than a cantankerous adult can be. Over the next few weeks I'll share my travels with the Toto through Kenya.


Graffe went AWOL at the airport in Addis. Multi-generational travel generates it’s own drama! Losing two-year-old Maxine’s floppy, pink and white nondescript stuffed animal was not an auspicious beginning. Consolation came in the form of a bag of cereal. We flew out of Ethiopia, and into 'Out of Africa', Isak Dinesen country, on the start of a seventeen-day Kenyan odyssey. Already a seasoned “have grandkids, will travel,” grandma or G’ma as I’m known – I took a nine-year old to Libya three years ago – this new adventure involved toting diapers along with all the other baggage.



My son, Ben and his wife Annie, parents of Maxine, live in Ethiopia. Getting out of the stultifying Addis summer doldrums was a priority. These intrepid travelers, former Peace Corp volunteers, have back-packed half the world. Safari with a two-year old held no terrors for them.
Vendors selling everything from bananas to leather belts wander amid the stop-and-go traffic along the main route from Jomo Kenyatta airport to the suburb of Karen. Jazzy new car dealerships tower over single story malls. Tin-roofed shantytowns tumble in disarray. Rows of shabby, English style council houses remind me that Nairobi was developed under British rule. Their incipient decay, washing hanging from windows, and mounds of discarded parts of household goods bring to mind early post-war housing estates in northern England.


Maxine, our Toto, the Swahili word for child, sings 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' to Puppy, the hastily purchased replacement for Graffe. The commercial buildings end and we turn onto to narrow winding lanes. Tall hedges and guarded gates shield luxury homes from passersby. David, the driver assigned by Nigel Archer Safaris, points out the sanctuary for the endangered Reticulated Giraffe – several residents lean over a barricade. A group of African men, some wheeling bikes, saunter past. The gracious, long-necked, dark-eyed beauties are no novelty to them. We stop - a first photo opportunity.



Macushla Guesthouse, our destination in Karen, proves a balm for frazzled travelers. Purpose-built, in the sprawling style of an African country house, a covered veranda spans the length; exuberant gardens invade the threshold where dark, polished floors, arched wooden ceilings, woven native rugs, and the right amount of African artifacts entice - nothing is overdone except for the extraordinary service. Lunch is served outdoors, a perfect gin and tonic included. I’m fantasizing on times long past. Dinesen and her lover, Finch-Hatton, could well have dallied here after safari. Not to be lulled by the luxury of our surrounds, Ben and Annie head for Nakomat, Kenya's answer to Target. The deprived ex-patriots are anxious to stock up on essentials. Their list includes a pepper grinder and car mats - neither available in Addis Ababa. Maxine and I opt for a very long lunch followed by a paddle in the pool.


A pot of tea brought to the bedroom door softens the 5 a.m. wake-up call. By the time I'm ready for breakfast, Maxine is in full charm mode. The Toto is a hit with the staff. With Puppy under her arm, she takes the hand of the smiling young waiter, leads him to the kitchen, and asks, "Oats, please."
"See," I told Annie – "travel with a child and barriers fall."
"We know it," she responds. "Let's just hope the Ms. Sunshine routine holds."