Last day in Marsabit today, which is a shame as it is really growing on me... even the lodge!  This morning there were elephants drinking from the lake near our window and yesterday evening there were herds of water buffalo grazing and drinking right up by our room – quite amazing!

The last part of the shoot was an interview with Fatuma so we met her at her little family home.  It is made from mud and corrugated iron, very basic but very neat and tidy with a garden growing wonderful things such as mangos, beans and much more.  Fatuma introduced us to her mother who is very beautiful and so young, Fatuma told me her mum married her father when she was twelve, which would explain it!  I already had a lot of respect and admiration for Fatuma but during her interview she took it to another level for me.

The tribal violence here is deeply ingrained within the community and it has been that way for generations.  Possibly centuries!  That one person has managed to get young men and boys from opposing sides to interact together for the first time in their lives and indeed their fathers' and grandfathers' lifetime is more than remarkable.  Add to that the fact that a woman has managed to do this in a society which views females as no more than work horses with no voice in the community, there only to cook, clean, fetch water and make babies and it becomes incredible.  

Now take into consideration that the young woman faces death constantly but refuses to give up her cause and you have a truly amazing woman.  She is stronger and braver than anyone I have ever met before; she is willing to die, not for religion and not for country or martyrdom, but for peace among her countrymen and peace for future generations.  To say she is inspirational would be an understatement; she has truly touched my heart and moved me.  I hope with my entire being that she will be save and that peace finally comes to northern Kenya.

Saying goodbye to Fatuma was so hard and I could not hold back the tears, in the last few days I have felt very close to her and it felt too soon to leave.  Before we left she gave us two traditional scarves that her other had rushed out to buy us with money they really don't have, I feel very humbled by the two wonderful women.  Sadly we really had to get going, as we wanted to get to a safe area on the way to Nairobi before dark, as once again we would be travelling through bandit country.  And so the long and bumpy journey back began with us leaving beautiful Fatuma, the boys and broken down Marsabit in our rear view mirror.

About an hour into the rough road trip Tim began to slow down seemingly for no reason until I quietly heard him say "we've got a flat tyre" to which I replied "You're joking... right?"  He wasn't.  Right there in the most dangerous place we could possibly be we had a bloody flat tyre!  We stepped out of the car and the heat was intense.  I was very still and eerily quiet especially after all the bumping and rattling of the car and though the three of us tried to look calm on the outside but I think we were all feeling a bit tense.

Tim and Arthur set about finding the jack and after a few false starts managed to get the car up and the wheel off, a large sharp shard of metal had imbedded itself in the tyre but luckily the spare was in good nick and we managed to get it on without too many problems.  It looked like the piece of metal may have been put there on purpose as we were told that is how the bandits capture their victims and indeed as we later found out somebody had been hacked up and killed on this very stretch of road only a week prior.  The job was done within about half an hour but in that burning heat with the silent fears we all shared it felt like an age.  Tim then jumped into the front seat and Arthur and I quickly put the rest of the tools in the back and removed the rocks from the rear wheel that we had put there to stop the car from rolling back with a great sensation of relief to be getting the hell out of there.

That was until I heard Tim turning the key in the ignition. nothing.  I ran up to the front of the car.  Tim turned the key again, still nothing... silence, just the distant sound of camels with their bells clinking as they roamed somewhere out of sight.  He turned the key once more and still no life could be heard from the engine only the silence of the bush.  My heart really sank now, it was like some bad American movie, the one where everyone gets killed and the audience in the cinema is wondering why the hell they were on that road in the first place.  At this point Arthur casually saunters up to Tim and watches as Tim tries the ignition once more before he informs us with a smile that the driver has to have the seat belt on before the ignition will work.  Bloody hell Arthur, he could have told us that three very long minutes ago.  With this new vital information the car roared into life, total relief all 'round.

The rest of the journey thankfully was uneventful except for when Tim pointed out a zebra crossing the road... right!  To the untrained eye it looked like a donkey, when I say untrained eye what I really mean is to my eyes (I wasn't wearing my contact lenses).  Easy mistake to make I think, donkey, zebra they look really similar... right?  It was a fantastic moment though and we slowed down to have a look as they just meandered through the bush, they really are even more beautiful when you see them in their natural environment, it was absolutely thrilling.  Unfortunately this wonderful moment gave Tim the opportunity to make countless of what Rene calls his 'dad jokes' about Zebra crossings and after about half and hour of these I was ready to take my chances with the bandits rather than hear another zebra joke!

After stopping over night in a decidedly dubious hotel, which was again filthy and astronomically expensive, we arrived back in to Nairobi safe and sound the next day and immediately spent the rest of our time there preparing for our next shoot in Burundi.  We did have time for a nice dinner with Terry, Arthur, his wife Rose and son Isaac amongst a few other Nairobians who Tim knew.  We also had a couple of drinks at a bar for the cool, young beautiful people, mainly ex-pats called Casablanca.  It was very Moroccan and very surreal to be in a swish nightclub with the DJ pumping out banging tunes after our mad few days in the wilderness.  It was time to call it a night and dream about our next adventure in Burundi.