GSR decided to relocate from the bustling metropolitan of the capital. Much as Nairobi has been accommodating –eagerly so- it was just too far removed from the death and the suffering. The stark contrast between the happy-go-lucky dwellers of the sky scrapers and the nomads fighting for their lives was a tragedy to behold.

If we moved, we could save a pretty dime on operation costs. We would be closer to the refugees –just two hours away from Dadaab. We could roll the dice and set in motion the plans we have been making for a while now.
We didn’t spend hours agonising over this decision. Sure, it was going to be a major step not only for us but for GSR.

Sure we left loved ones behind. We left the comforts of the metropolis. No more pizza deliveries, no more free internet at Java or Art Caffe, no more team heart-to-heart into the wee hours of the morning at popular Nairobi rendezvous points.

No more news!

This is perhaps the most scary part of everything. A meteor could claw off half of the earth and we would never know about it. We have no television, no radios, no newspapers here.

In exchange, we have vain mosquitoes that stare at their reflection in the window for hours. We have trysts with scorpions while listening to stray cats wail all night. Here, the sun stretches its hands into your veins and makes your blood boil and froth and scald you.

Sometimes we are lost in translation and sometimes we are moved by the sight of morose donkeys, tails between legs, ears drooping, bodies mangled by strain and abuse. These donkeys stand in the middle of the tarmac, hoping that one of the cars would soon take them out of their misery.
Sometimes, interesting things happen. For example, the other day we gave a lift to some poor travellers whose car had broken down, only to find that they were Al Jazeera crew.

After long days at Ifo and Daffur and Hagadera, we let the wind shake the thoughts about our heads, watch it ravish the leaves in the trees. Sometimes we wonder if it’s raining. But no, it can’t be raining; that’s just the gardeners watering the plants. Since the start of 2011, it only rained on one day in March, for two hours.

The team comes up with plans, discusses them and implements them almost immediately. And the soot-coloured dickey birds hop about the grizzly tree branches, cheering us on. Long live GSR!

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