We decided we will go to Kenya to buy gemstones.We had seen the beautiful tourmalines, aquamarines and garnets of every colour that have reached the Australian shores for bargain prices.

Why not go? In Australia we live and breathe gemstones but are limited to what is found there.

After a year on our sapphire mine, it is like,.....yes another sapphire, very nice, oh look another Blue Sapphire, good good. Then our friends in Kenya post us over some orange garnets that just glow when cut and sit in a bit of gold. Can't help but covet more of these wonderful multi-colored stones.

Day One Arrived in Nairobi and settled in.

 

After arriving at Kenyatta Jomo airport we are so pleased to see our friends there ready to whisk us away to their home. As we head for the car we are approached by a local man wearing a crumpled suit, wanting to assist for a price, he is waved away. It is 5 am, it had taken a while to buy our visas upon arrival as the man behind the desk caused us confusion by asking to see a newer note each time we handed over the visa fee. It was later explained to us newbie's, that was our first taste of the locals wanting some cash off us, within 5 minutes of landing.

I pondered the girl in the toilets asking for a tip when I was about to open the door to go back into the main airport, That was the first, the man at the visa counter was the second. We drove through the early morning dawn, it was too dark to see much. When we put our bags away we head for the kitchen table where bags and bags of precious uncut gems are lying scattered in piles. Just like home. Being a gemstone fanatic I am used to sweeping up hundreds of dollars in the dustpan while doing the house work. I pick them out and put them up somewhere to be rediscovered a month or two later.

But here the piles seem to be bigger and brighter with more colours.

"Look at this one" Jamie says as he moves a green tourmaline from a solar led light to the naked kitchen light bulb above our heads. Its orange now.I've never seen colour change tourmaline before, I grab a handful and move around the room from light to light....yellow one minute, then green then orange. I'm stunned. Then a bag of pink tourmalines are tumbled out in front of me. I gasp, I have the words of my girlfriends still ringing in my ears....."You know what we want don't you Trudy." "Yes" I reply, and they make me repeat the chant "Pink Tourmaline for Jan and Clair and a pink sapphire if I see any"

Lou, moves the pile towards him and I can see by the gleam in his eye we will soon be the proud owners of some huge pink stones.

Jamie then announces he has a friend arriving soon from the Tanzanian border. When Hamish arrives later I am educated in the abundance of gemstones in East Africa, as he arrives with kilos and kilos of sparkling uncut gems.

Another miner arrives later in the day, shy and friendly. He is weary of us. Jamie explains both these friendly miners have been badly ripped off in the past by other wazungas (white folk).

There is no reason to treat these miners unfairly. They are small miners that love gemstones. They have hopes that their gemstones will take them above the poverty line and be able to feed their families. They work out in the Kenya and Tanzania bush under great hardship and danger to bring their gems to potential buyers. They have open minds and open hearts. They are like all the rest of us gemstone fossickers and miners. We all come together with the image of the beautiful cut gemstone set in gold on a proud persons finger, shown with delight to their circle of friends.

Day Two: First Meeting with Local Gemstone Sellers.

Jamie and Sandy, our friends that live in Nairobi whom we are staying with, took my partner Lou and his son into downtown Nairobi today. An arranged meeting with some bushmen fossickers was arranged to have a look at the stones they had found. They met at the famous ‘Thorn Tree café' in the Stanley Hotel.

I had jet lag so stayed behind, but I was so envious when they returned with exciting stories of the hire car with no shock absorbers. We are in the suburb of Karen and I heard wild and wooly stories of near death experiences with Matatu drivers and no road rules and then the serenity of sitting in the lovely café sipping coke and talking to exotic bush men with their stories of large clear blue aquamarine. Then baboons along the road on the way back.

I couldn't wait to go into Nairobi myself but I was in an overexcited dream world from lack of sleep and I was falling in love with Fred, the lovely man that cleaned up after me and washed the dishes and did all the household chores that I used to mutter and fume while doing. Yet here was Fred smiling and happy while mopping the floor yet again where I had trailed a path of mud over the gleaming white tiles.. I fell blissfully fell asleep that night only to be startled awake by the weirdest animal noises, screeching and barking like I had never heard before. I was told the paddock over our fence is the Ngong Park.

Day Three: Local Drivers and Travelling with Money.

I walked out to the rustic wooden fence to test its strength, as it looked is how it was. If one of those lions leaned up against it we would have enough fire wood for a week. I rattled the thick wrought iron bars on all the windows and doors. Luckily nothing would pass through them, or the thick wooden doors. Whew.

My journey into Downtown Nairobi was everything I imagined, with more adrenaline than white water rafting or bunjy jumping. I think it would be up there with jumping out of an aeroplane.

Jamie our driver was as ruthless as the rest of them, we ducked and weaved, nudged into hopeless jams and emerged 40 metres later a new person with a different outlook on life. I really must phone my parents and tell them I do actually love them.

Perhaps instead of organizing gemstone safari tours as is part of the reason for being here we could market something for those young thrill seekers that live for the moment, on the edge, life in hands.

The smartly uniformed men waved us into a good parking spot, removing the guarding pole, big smiles as they recognized Jamie a heavy tipper when it came to parking.

Unfortunately I had jobs to do. I had wads of US and Australian dollars and bank cards strapped to my body as if I was a drug trafficker. I was nervous, why did I read all those guide books, I shouldn't have read the latest government. ‘Smart travelers guide to Kenya' I felt like I as about to pass through Turkeys airport with kilos of hashish strapped to me. My two local female friends sauntered along beside me as I went from bank to bank. I didn't know if I should smile at the gun wielding guards or not, do I tip them? Would it mean they would have to loose their concentration and put their gun down while they received a tip? Better not.

I couldn't wait to get home and throttle all my well meaning acquaintances that advised me to look poor so I wouldn't be robbed. Even in my smartest going to town clothes I was the worst dressed person on the street. The women are gorgeous and looked like they have just stepped out of a saloon, refreshed and intent. The men in their ironed business shirts and creased trousers look curiously at me, jittery and sweaty, clutching my concealed money belt that was by now feeling like a spare tyre around my waist.

But then heaven, we reach the "Thorn Tree Café" and I relax amongst our group of chattering females, of which I understand one in 20 words. I've already been told by young Brian. Sandy's son, who has been taught English from day one at his school that I sound like I am speaking French when I talk too fast. Orange juice and samosas and smiling staff, I am whisked off back into the shock lessabsorb lesscar, narrowly missing every other vehicle on the street.

We stop when we are out of the city and nearly home to watch the baboons climb the trees on the roadside with the young ones hanging on. I am glad to see our giant wrought iron gates swing open by Fred. I look forward to doing that again tomorrow.

While traveling home Sandy's mobile phone has been ringing hot. Gemstones are arriving, people are waiting, as we walk into the dining room we are surrounded once more with wheeling and dealing. I am banned from the deals this time as I am no poker player, I am a foolish wazunga.

I look too excited when I see a pile of rubies. I must sit this one out, so I watch DVDs with the young lads while I try to listen as the Maasai is told not to break up large crystals of gems. It is explained what is wanted, clearer, bigger, leave the gem in the matrix, do not hit so hard with the chisels. I can't help it and after a couple of hours I sneak in amongst them all. I spot a pile of top cabochon grade rubies. I whimper, I want them. No, I am sent out.

Gem cutters don't see the beauty in cabochon grade stones. I drag my feet out with backward looks. When they leave I am given 6 of the rubies I so wanted to keep me happy. They were unwanted but purchased for good will, goodwill to the Maasai, not to me. They promise to bring back better clearer rubies and to no longer break the aquamarine crystals out of the micca matrix where they are snuggled in. At least I have convinced everyone the uniqueness and value of specimens.

Once again gemstones are the topic of the evening

 

Page 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | Next