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Pancakes: Porridge Mix + Gram flour + coconut flour Cinnamon pancakes

18 Dec


  • 3/4 cup of porridge mix (any will do)
  • 1/4 cup of gram flour (bhajia flour)
  • 1 teaspoon of coconut flour
  • 1 table spoon of cocoa powder (if you like)
  • 1 heaped teaspoon of baking powder
  • 5-6 teaspoons of sugar (reduce to 2 teaspoons, if eating pancakes with honey or syrup)
  • 1/2 teaspoon of ground cinnamon (add nutmeg and dried fruit if you like)
  • 2 eggs
  • a table spoon of natural yogurt diluted in 1/2 cup of water (plain water or milk will do)
  • pinch of salt
  • table spoon of olive oil


  1. Mix all the dry ingredients together in a large bowl (including dried fruit if any).
  2. With a whisk, beat the eggs in a separate bowl until frothy. Add oil.
  3. Heat the pan. I prefer to use the heavy iron chapati pan as it is naturally non-stick.
  4. Pour egg and oil mix into dry ingredients. Add yogurt-water mix slowly so as not to heavily dilute the mix. A thicker mix will give you fluffier pancakes.
  5. sprinkle oil on pan and cook the pancakes. You will notice the pancakes don’t bubble as much as wheat flour ones, so don’t wait too long before flipping. Use a table spoon to ladle the mix onto the center of the pan.
  6. Serve with honey and more cinnamon sprinkled on.


This started one Sunday morning when I found out I had run out of wheat flour and the other wheat flour was expired and looking strange. I had Porridge mix that my mom had brought a couple weeks before and gram flour I’d bought for my gram flour biscuits (will share recipe soon).

Gram flour, made from ground yellow grams, has a very distinct flavour, I added it for its  high nutrition value (very protein rich), but also for it’s sticky nature.

Porridge mix is neutral, but when other ingredients like  ground Soya bean and groundnut are added, it can get heavy on flavour. The sorghum in porridge mix and any other additives like groundnuts and coconut flour, can make it grainy, and reduce it’s holding power. If you want to omit gram flour, add an extra egg.

Store your flour in air-tight containers or sealed bags in the lower refrigerator to keep it safe for longer.

TheNairobiFilmFestival by bicycle

1 Feb

Shecyclesnairobi often gets queries via e-mail, on how to navigate from a particular residential area, to a workplace, from mainly foreign nationals moving to Nairobi to work, and hoping to keep on commuting by bicycle here, as they have been for years in their home countries. We try to be honest with them; the dynamics will be significantly different here, as there is very limited to no separation for Non-Motorized Transport (NMT) in Nairobi and Public Service Vehicle motorists rarely follow conventional traffic rules. However, it’s rare for cyclists to get crashed by motorists, but the numbers of such crashes are low, largely due to a low number of commuter cyclists.

A couple of weeks ago, I got an invitation to join, Shorts on Wheels on January 29, 2017. A bicycle tour segment of the ongoing Nairobi Film Festival 2017. Riders who did not own bicycles and helmets were suitably supplied by Baiskeli Adventures, who also helped map out the route to each film venue. Participation was free, with the exception of the bicycles and helmets at Ksh 400 per set.

Cyclists and some motor cyclists gathered at the Goethe Institut Nairobi on Monrovia Street. Baiskeli adventures assigned suitable bikes and helmets to attendees and Goethe Staff handed out goodie bags containing an apple, a banana, some roasted peanuts and a large bottle of water for an energized ride ahead.

Start: Goethe-Institut Nairobi Auditorium

The group walked in through an orb-shaped hut video installation built for a collaborative showcase by artistes Sam Hopkins and John Kamicha. Beyond the installation the room was set up with benches for movie-goers to watch “The Bike Gang” by the same artistes; a series of short films on the bicycle sub-culture in Nairobi.

PAWA 254

The group of riders snaked up Monrovia Street, onto Muindi Mbingu Street onto University Way and down the Uhuru Highway onto Valley Road, up Milimani Road onto State House Avenue into Statehouse Crescent to PAWA 254. Everyone sunk into the plush, comfy auditorium seats for “Flight Path“, a short film by Cinematographer Willie Owusu. The story told as a monologue, spoke to the hardship of immigration and a sense of uprootedness one feels when elsewhere.

The Elephant

The ride to the next venue started along Denis Pritt road, onto Olenguroine Road onto James Gichuru Road and on to Kanjata Road. Mostly a smooth downhill. At The Elephant, famed for the monthly live music event, “Live At The Elephant“, the cyclists were welcomed to food & drink by Fresh and More, and sat beneath the shade on the expansive back lawn to eat, get acquainted and recap the morning’s experience.

In an upper room set up theatre-style, the group of nearly one hundred riders watched Finnish filmmaker Laura Horelli’s, “The Terrace“. This film is a memoir in photographs, voiced over by the filmmaker herself, of her early childhood living in Nairobi and returning to retrace her steps. One thing that struck me about this film, especially in the current atmosphere of curriculum review in Kenya, was that she went to a public nursery/kindergarten in Nairobi, as “the education system in Kenya in the ’80s was very good…”.

That was quickly followed by “Yellow Fever” by Ng’endo Mukii, a multi-award winning, animated drama that explores colorism and identity crisis that fuels the skin bleaching industry in Africa.

End: The Alchemist Bar

The group trundled along Muthangari Drive onto St. Michael Road onto Rhapta Road onto Kileleshwa Ring Road and across, the now closed, Westlands Roundabout and up Parklands Road to The Alchemist. The Alchemist is a small creatively set up, oasis in the hubbub of the Westlands commercial area. It features several food outlets, shops, a bar and little halls for hire.

The cyclists huddled into a small darkened room where the film “Wada” by Khaled Mzher was projected onto a wall.  At eleven minutes, the shortest film on the tour was “Sea of Ash” by Michael MacGarry, described as “A poetic re-imagining of Death in Venice, featuring a West African immigrant to Italy who embarks on a journey from the Alpine mountains to the seaside and ultimately, on a doomed voyage home”.

I have to say that the routes and rides were hustle-free mainly due to the low motor traffic on Sundays. Volunteers in the group, helped hold up traffic for the group to cross at roundabouts, which helped dispel fear amongst the large number of commuter cycling novices.

The program was organised and curated by the Goethe-Institut Kenya, Mbithi Masya and Sheba Hirst. Additional support was provided by Baiskeli Adventures, Critical Mass Nairobi and The BUS.

Along Uhuru Highway to PAWA 254

Along Uhuru Highway to PAWA 254


Up State House Avenue to PAWA 254

Up State House Avenue to PAWA 254


Weeeee! Down and up Olenguroine Road towards The Elephant

Weeeee! Down and up Olenguroine Road towards The Elephant


Approach to The Elephant

Approach to The Elephant


Along Rhapta Road to The Alchemist

Along Rhapta Road to The Alchemist


The group at The Alchemist

The group at The Alchemist

Barcelona: IntegratedPublicTransport by Ann Keih

18 Nov

Ann Keih was in Barcelona and sent us a post card. See what she saw.

Tree-lined pedestrian path in Barcelona. Trees are very important along Non-Motorized Transport (NMT) infrastructure. Photo Credit - Ann Keih

Tree-lined pedestrian-cycle path in Barcelona. Trees are very important along Non-Motorized Transport (NMT) infrastructure. Photo Credit – Ann Keih


A complete street in Barcelona - note the tram tracks in the foreground , alongside a car - bus lane. Photo Credit - Ann Keih

A complete street in Barcelona – note the light rail/tram tracks in the foreground , alongside a car – bus lane. Photo Credit – Ann Keih


An integrated street in down town Barcelona. Photo Credit - Ann Keih

An integrated street in down town Barcelona. Photo Credit – Ann Keih


Close tree-cover along a shared path in Barcelona. Photo Credit - Ann Keih

Close tree-cover along a shared path in Barcelona. Sections of tree-linned soft surface allow rain water to sink down into the earth, rather than run-off. This reduces stress on the surface drainage and prevents/controls flooding. Photo Credit – Ann Keih


A pedestrian-cyclist path with bus stop by-pass and tree-cover. Photo Credit - Ann Keih

A pedestrian-cyclist path with bus stop by-pass and tree-cover. Note the tree planters that have no raised edges that impede pedestrian traffic along sidewalks. Photo Credit – Ann Keih


Streets stay neat and tidy with trash tips to separate garbage at collection points. Photo Credit - Ann Keih

Streets stay neat and tidy with trash tips to separate garbage at collection points. Photo Credit – Ann Keih


A properly marked cycle crossing that gives priority to cyclists. Decongesting by design. Photo Credit - Ann Keih

A properly marked cycle crossing that gives priority to cyclists. The bollards on the corner force motorists to slow down by taking a right-angled turn. Decongesting by design. Photo Credit – Ann Keih


A bicycle share docking station in Barcelona. Photo Credit - Ann Keih

A bicycle share docking station in Barcelona. While numerous trees keep cyclists cool on hot days as they trundle along. Photo Credit – Ann Keih




(✿◠‿◠) GoGirl! GoFaster…GoFurther…GoLonger

19 Jun

I was maybe twelve, while helping my baby sister to bed, I felt a warm wetness between my legs. After tucking her in, I trundled to the bathroom to empty my own bladder before bed. Immediately, I recognized the tell-tale signs that I was now on the path towards “growing up and liking it”, as the lady from a sanitary towel company had said when she gave a talk at school, about sanitary towels.

Girlhood into womanhood, that includes a daily active life in sports, takes a lot of calculated action and a good sports bra. It’s something most male people and prepubescent girls take for granted.

I took up swimming aged five or six on my father’s back. Literally. He would wade in the shallow end of the YMCA pool as my younger sister and I clung to him. Arms wrapped tightly around his neck. He’d count to three to give us time to hold in a gasp of air, and then dive beneath the water at intervals. Slowly we gained the confidence to wade on our own clinging to the rail along the wall and practice our kicking. Finally swimming free after a few more lessons.

My dear dad’s idea of shopping for his many daughters involved a monthly supply of nearly two dozen maxi and midi sanitary towels. In retrospect, it was such a sweet approach that he made it a part of normal household shopping, so my three sisters, young aunties who lived with us and I never lacked, or had to ask.

As a super active child, I never quite took to sanitary towels. They were cumbersome and caused friction burn when running during tennis, field hockey, netball, don’t even get me into long distance, or cross-country.

Now, well into age thirteen, I was lucky that my period, never came on “swimming day”. My pal Fridah wondered if I had “started” because I had never missed a single swimming lesson. I smiled knowingly at my body’s cooperation with my active lifestyle. I remember an incident when a fellow classmate had deliberately left her swimming kit at home as she was on her period. The swimming teacher had jibed her, asking out loud for all the other girls to hear.

“Haven’t you heard of tampons, girl?” she mock goaded.

You could never really tell when Mrs. Raburu was joking. Her booming voice sounded the same when she was speaking instructions or counting down the starting line up. No microphone required.

The girl shrugged. The others giggled. Thankfully it was an all girls school, and there was no peer shaming, but enthusiastic curiosity about this “growing up” thing.

In the same year, I signed up and trained for a month, every week-day lunch hour, for a swimming meet that was to take place at the Nyayo Stadium. In the excitement of training and preparation, I forgot to monitor my calendar. That very morning as I prepared to take my shower and go for the meet, I saw the blood!

There was no way I was going to pull out and face the wrath of Mrs. Raburu, the swimming trainer. Also, I had trained too hard to drop out now.

Her jibe rung in my head.

“Haven’t you heard of tampons, girl?”

So loud, I thought other people could hear her too.

I had never used them before, never needed to as my active days were “no-bleed-days”, but I had sneaked a peek at my aunt Sarah’s pack and read the instructions insert enough to get the basic idea.

I walked to Nairobi West Shopping Centre, where “Omido’s Provisions Store” stood. A giant “kiosk” that had everything you can imagine or need, long before Uchumi set up at Birongo Square, or Nakumatt Mega along Uhuru Highway and their “You want it we’ve got it”. Omido himself was at the counter. The store smelled like everything; detergent, ball gums, chocolate, cup cakes, …

“Nipe O.B. Mini”.

I got a packet of ten “bullets” for Ksh 80, at the time.

If you’re still reading, you know I am telling you about my relationship, as a serial athlete, with a small tight wad of cotton wool that through history has been modified to suit women’s menstrual hygiene to date. The biodegradable cotton tampon has been a major equalizer on many fronts for women, from working in the fields to the military.

At Nyayo Stadium, I went straight to the women’s changing room beneath the bleachers, by the pool. I skipped the warm up session, and locked myself in one of the toilet booths to peruse the O. B. instructions insert. I’d read it a dozens of times before, but this time, I was actually going to use a “bullet”, I felt like there was something I’d missed; … “toxic shock syndrome”… “very rare”… “the string is out of reach”…

The pre-race call up seemed way too loud on the speakers, “Wind up your warm up…” and too soon. I inserted my first ‘bullet’, not knowing if I’d got it high up enough. Making sure the string was within reach.

As I walked out and climbed out onto the bleachers, very aware of the ‘foreign body’, I thought everyone could tell I was walking funny. By the time my race was called, I’d been to the changing room toilet four times to “check”. I came in fifth place when I could have easily come in third place.

Since then, tampons have been a great companion in leading a sporty life. I could not imagine doing the compulsory high school cross-country run wearing a huge maxi pad.


The other thing I “always” (pun intended) found odd, especially after the growing-up-and-liking-it talk, was how all TV ads for sanitary towels depicted menstrual blood as blue and not red. Anyway… the shame brigade was televised and still is.

Thankfully, we have come a long way in how menstruation is perceived, with open discussion about pretty underwear to ensure that girls have something to keep the sanitary pad in place, among other solutions such as toilets in schools.

In this digital age, girls also have numerous resources such as, to help them figure out this very important, normal, body function. Are you shy about discussing this with your daughter? Direct them there.


Fast forward to my twenties while visiting my Godmother in Johannesburg. I’d nipped to the shops to refill my supply of tampons and left the opened pack on my bed in the spare bedroom.

“Whose tampons are these? You should only use tampons when you are married…”

I came out of the bathroom chuckling to myself and ignored what she had said, thinking back to my swimming meet at twelve. It never came up again. I thought that was the most ignorant thing a woman can say about something so normal like menstrual hygiene.


There’s many issues that have been raised about young girls using tampons, mostly absurdly related to the prizing of virginity in women and girls, which quite frankly, is in direct conflict with flawed masculinity where men and boys are encouraged to sow their “wild oats”. With whom are they going to sow them, if not these very women and girls?

I’ve also read accounts on message boards of mom’s not “letting” their twelve-year old daughters use tampons. This is stupid and illogical. The focus should be on safety, clean hands; remove or change every five hours, to mitigate against toxic shock syndrome (which is extremely rare and is not always caused by tampon use). It takes time to get it right.

This kind of backward thinking absolves parents from taking responsibility for the role they play in their teenager’s decisions about sex. The more involved parents are in the child’s life, the less likely they are to engage in early sex. I had my first, safe, sexual experience in my mid-twenties.

Girls and their parents also need to know the link between delayed first, sexual experience and the risk of cervical cancer. So, dear parents, it’s not just the risk of pregnancy and resulting social, physical and economic burden your daughter faces. Please inform her early so she can make informed choices.


When my younger sister decided to start using “bullets”, I stood outside the bathroom door yelling instructions.

“Up higher …”

And her shouting back various rates of in-success.

“I can’t …”

It took a few more tries over a couple of months for her to succeed.

As a starter, I found the tampons with an applicator the easiest to use, just breathe in and out a couple of times to relax. This type came in handy for field trips/road-trips when you couldn’t ensure your hands are completely clean. Night accidents were very common, but nothing unusual. As you slept, tossed and turned when having the “falling dream”, that bulky maxi pad would shift. All perfectly normal. Which is why I was stunned when a photo of a young woman who was fully clothed, who’d had a period “accident”, was “banned” by Instagram.

The stigmatization of female bodies starts very early. As young as five, and get’s amplified as girls enter puberty. In my teens, I was fortunate to have had a positive body image, free of shaming. SaVonne Anderson’s growing up experience with the one male that mattered most, her father, was particularly unsavory. This is just the beginning of the categorization of women and girls as the slut, the spinster and perfect woman, to fit patriarchal constructs. It’s the story of many women and girls, very many, maybe most girls, perhaps all:

“Nani anakaa kama kikapu?” (Who is siting like a basket?), said a mom to her five-year old daughter sitting with a friend at a door step, just being little girls. Her little dress had ridden up her legs to reveal her little pink underwear.

Aged about eight, a house help introduced me to what I would later learn was menstrual shame:

“Utatokwa na damu nyingi, ita teremka kwa miguu yako, na wavulana watakuchekelea…”

(“Blood will run down your legs and the boys will laugh at you…”)

She may have been describing her own experience of menstrual shaming, or that of another girl. At eight years old, I was horrified at the idea of bleeding down my legs. Where would the blood be from? Would the boys be laughing because I fell down and injured myself? I had so many questions, but I just did not know how to vocalize them.

Grown women today have a hard time “owning” their periods. It’s still viewed as a thing of shame, to hide from your boyfriend, husband and other male people in your circle.

In the primary school I went to, the entire class knew Flora had “started”. She never hid her sanitary pads when she went to change during recess. Often other girls gathered around her asking how it felt, was it warm or cold. She was a good sport and answered all our questions.


Back to the mighty tampon.

No female athlete, amateur or pro, does her ten- or twenty- or thirty-kilometer run with a maxi pad when on her period. None. Of course it’s not a topic for the finish line media interview, so it has never come up. Every female athlete, no matter their age or level, wants to perform their best.

In the first year of starting my period, I learned quickly that being active also came with certain pleasant “side effects”, no cramps! I would hear other less active girls complain about painful periods and wonder how I didn’t have them. In the times leading up to exams, I would take part in sports less. When it came, it came hard, and painfully. I’m talking squirming-in-your-seat painful.

So staying active and finding ways to ensure my period did not impede my staying active, was essential, hence the tampons.

We’ve seen the statistics about how many poor girls miss school due to lack of menstrual hygiene tools. I am yet to see how many poor African girls fail to meet the recommended threshold for daily physical activity for the same reason. The importance of childhood physical activity cannot be over emphasized. Children who remain active or increase physical activity as they grow have been found to have stronger bones and better health later in life.

Growing up, many African girls fear being viewed as tomboys if they engage in sports. Fear their performance being judged. Other deterrents for deliberate physical activity among African girls in Africa, include the fear of breaking past gender stereotype barriers.

I see tampons as a way over one major hurdle.

Update: If your daughter complains of extremely painful periods she may be suffering from dysmenorrhea or endometriosis. Best to get medical advice to ensure that this is not the case, or how to proceed if it is.

~ __0
(*)/ (*)  Enjoy the ride!!  ❤ Cycling! ❤ Nairobi! and beyond!

Don’t Date A GirlWhoCyclesInNairobi

4 Feb

Don’t date a girl who cycles in Nairobi. Meet her at the bike repair shop as she gets her bike tuned, at the traffic stop as you both wait for the lights to change, during a group Sunday ride, heck even chase her down in your car, on your bike or motorcycle to get her number. She may turn up for that first date in barely there make-up, bare, toned legs and sensibly mid-heel high heels. She is fit and body confident.

She’s that girl with multi-toned skin – sun tinted forearms and forehead – and battle scars where the pedals have kissed her shins, or where the chain ring grazed her calf. Each scar accompanied by an urban half-pedestrian encounter, or collision with nature story. She is not obsessively image-conscious, with every hair exactly in its place or tucked under a severe, straight weave or curly, voluminous wig. What fashion trends?

So technically adept at fixing punctures in less than 10 minutes and maintaining that bike, she may well know how to get the air-lock out of the pipes. She may never need you. Cycling on these streets is a solo sport that nurtures independence.

Don’t date a girl who cycles in Nairobi, you will feel that you can’t match up to her adventurous bravado, and nervously dominate the conversation with tall tales of your own adventures. Every day is already an adventure. She is not easily impressed by the mundane. She is constantly aware of her vulnerability, cycling through these streets, knowing every day may be her last on that saddle.

Don’t date a girl who cycles in Nairobi or you will wait a few days wondering what happened, until you call her to chat and ask her out again. You suggest the same restaurant, the food was great. She knows a better one, also great food, great service, good wine and ambiance. She never takes the same route twice in a row.

Don’t date a girl who cycles in Nairobi, conversation will be a revealing journey of both your lives; hers a map marked with destinations you have always wished to visit, yours a curious compass ready to be pointed to the next adventure. She knows that everyone has taken the wrong turn, she will expect you to admit wrong turns and won’t always expect you to know the directions.

Don’t date a girl who cycles in Nairobi, she will probably kiss you first. She never hesitates and knows her capabilities, makes decisions pretty fast and sticks to them. If she didn’t she’d be roadkill by now.

Don’t date a girl who cycles in Nairobi, there will probably be grease under her pinky nail every now and then. Everything needs thorough, constant maintenance to keep working right. If taken for grunted, it will fall into a rusty state of disrepair.

Maybe she will stay. Make you her next adventure. That new road she has never traveled. Lot’s of blind spots add to the thrill.  She will expect you to be mysterious, unpredictable, that cool drizzle on a hot and sunny ride.

A woman who cycles knows you can go further if you set your mind to it, and she will expect you to. It’s never about the destination, but the long, winding journey with promise on the horizon. You must will your mind to push up the hills, take time to enjoy the reward of the view from the top and the effortless downhills.

A girl who cycles in Nairobi knows every by-way and back route out of your life or back home. Heri kulia kwa baiskeli… Tears dry quickly when you cycle. On to the next one.

In brief, ride hard or go home!

~ __0
(*)/ (*)  Enjoy the ride!!  ❤ Cycling! ❤ Nairobi! and beyond!

“I Am Afraid I Left My Bomb At Home Today”

25 Sep

Never thought I would be writing a post about bombs and cycling in Nairobi. If you have followed this blog, you know I like to show folks who want to cycle, how “easy” and “safe” it is to just get on with it.

I work in the larger vicinity of the Westgate Mall and cycle by once a month to pick items that I cannot find at the other supermarkets, from Nakumatt Westgate. This mall is also one of the few establishments that has (well, had) a secure bicycle parking, and I mentioned their parking in an earlier post. Before you get to Westgate Mall coming in from Waiyaki Way, there are two other options for shopping at the inter section of Waiyaki Way and Chiromo Road – Naivas Supermarket and Uchumi Supermarket – both located smack in the hubbub of Westlands roundabout area, but both without bike parking. There is also the Uchumi Supermarket at Sarit Centre, where ornate bike racks are provided, but no Nakumatt Supermarket :/

Pedalling up the little climb to the parking ticket stand and barrier, as fast as I can to clear it to the top and scoot around the metal bar, the all-male security guards always shout cheerfully for me to stop for the mandatory security check. They fumble not knowing how to handle me – female, bulging cross-body bag and all – men in this city have a healthy fear of women’s handbags. On several occasions I have jokingly said to  them,  “Oh, I am afraid I left my bomb at home today” or “I think I left my bomb at home,” “Ahhh, leo nimeacha bomb nyumbani,” as I pretend to grudgingly open my bag for one of them to take a quick peek and find no bomb, of course. Not much of a check up. Sometimes they stop me as an excuse to chat me up, asking me how far I cycle and how far I am going, or why I haven’t got a carrier seat in back for a passenger.

On Monday, as the images and videos of the Mall attack were aired, I found myself squinting hard to see if I could spot any of the charming, all male security guards at the car parking entrance. Had any of them survived? Had I “attracted” this misfortune to Westgate Mall with my loose remarks about bombs?

I suppose there is so much more danger I face daily as a commuter cyclist in a cycling-unfriendly city, that bombs are the least of my worries. So much so that I can mention them in jest. I am so so so sorry.

A bunch of Bkack Mamba fixed gear bikes parked at the basement bike racks at Westgate Mall, Westlands.

A pair of  trusty ‘Black Mamba’ / ‘Blacke’ fixed gear bikes parked at the basement bike racks at Westgate Mall, Westlands. Where are their owners after the attack on Westgate Mall?


The well thought out and designed bike stand (pictured above), that can take up to five bikes, is in the basement parking to the immediate left of the entrance, by the stair well entrance. Every single time I have been there, there are at least three other bikes parked; nothing fancy, just a pair of the popular ‘Black Mamba’ and a Dutch-style, well-used, single-speed, complete with a carrier and bungee, rear blinky light and numerous reflectors. The owners park the bikes respectfully, leaving the nearest spot empty for anyone else who may not stay long. I never spend more that 30 minutes in the supermarket being a thrifty shopper… and I cannot carry much by bike.

On Monday, as the images and videos of the Mall attack were aired, I wondered if the owners of these three bikes survived?

Some of them may belong to the security guards at the entrance. The ‘Blackie’ is a strong symbol of poor man’s mobility in Nairobi, second to walking. While the world and Kenyans focused on the wealth and opulence the edifice that is Westgate Mall represents, these bikes stood in the dark corner out of sight, like their socially invisible owners.

On Monday, as the images and video footage of the Mall attack were beamed across the world, I had a poignant feeling that those bikes will never again be powered up the hills of Nairobi from home to work and back.

As I prepare to leave the basement on my bicycle, I ride around to the left side and onto the middle track facing the exit to gain enough momentum to clear the climb out of the basement parking. Flipping the mountain bike gears quickly to ease the pedalling. Whizzing past the security check again, this time without much fun fair, the smartly dressed guards wave and call out their fare wells.

On Monday, as the images and video footage of the Westgate Mall attack were aired, and the roof collapsed, I knew I will never hear those cheers again.

May the wind be on your back all the way to the other side   😦

Update: All the security guards survived except one.

half-a-pedestrian in Nairobi

31 Jul

Kileleshwa Ring Road, West of Nairobi, is second to the expanded Nairobi-Thika Highway in pioneering a protected bicycle path for Nairobi. Unlike the wider bike lanes along Thika Road, those on Kileleshwa Ring Road will see cyclists pedal one behind the other with little room to overtake if you are on a bike that is faster than the fixed gear, slower “Blackie”, that is common in Nairobi. The protected bike path has been heralded as the best design as it recognizes the “wheeled-pedestrian” and helps avoid situations like this in New York where Casey Neistat received a court sermons for not keeping to the bike path, despite pointing out the obvious reasons.

I tried the left bike lane on the way home one evening, nervously. The pedestrians were having a field day spread out over both the pedestrian walk-way and the cycling lane,  a quick, polite tweak of my dinky bell let them know they were in my way, and they politely obliged. Some glanced briefly over their shoulder, and obstinately continued to walk on the bike path.

Riding on the motorway has its dangers, but after having travelled that way for almost two years now, I know that motorists simply want to get along and avoid the cyclists as much as they can – they are going somewhere. The Nairobi pedestrian, however, has many faces besides that of one that is actually going somewhere; the idler, the lay about, the heckler, the bully, the occasional mad man/woman… I could go on. The new cycle path puts me too close to pedestrians. Uncomfortably close. I am now placed closer to the jeers, cat-calls and cheers alike.

I had an altercation with a group of men, who were spread five deep across both the pedestrian and cycle paths, after I tweaked my dinky bell to let them know I was coming up behind them. One of the men shot me an angry look and gestured to the main road, “Si upite huko!” (“Just use the motorway!”). On the inclines cycling down, it gets worse, with some wearing their earphones on so loud they cannot hear the dinky bell ringing as they walk along the cycle path.

The softer inclines on the new Kileleshwa Ring Road will still give you a great workout without causing too much pain, with fewer trees and foliage – unfortunately – and extreme alternates of fast-moving motor traffic, slow traffic in the mornings and traffic-free late afternoons and Sundays.

The rather narrow cycle path is not the only design flaw I noticed. Some of the lanes narrow out  in sections to give way to a bus stop or disappear entirely where road reserve appears to run out. In the latter case the pedestrian cabro paved section is given priority forcing the cyclists to find his/her way back onto the main road or negotiate with pedestrians for room on the foot path. This, in my opinion, would land the cyclist in hot soup as he/she would be forced to break the one cyclist city by-law that prohibits “propelling on foot paths”.

Failure to mark the cycle lanes with the characteristic “cyclist” symbol that would quickly serve as pedestrian education on the new infrastructure, is likely to cause cyclist-pedestrian conflict in the beginning, especially since the pedestrian traffic is higher than cyclist traffic on this road, at the time of writing this post. Currently pedestrians think that the extra paved path is also for the “walking nation”. Someday the city of Nairobi will look like this with complete cycle streets.

Until protected cycling infrastructure is set up continuously across Nairobi to allow “normal cycling”, and we put our roads on a diet your intuition, not your helmet will save you when cycling, and every day on your bike could be your last as Velma, one of our bloggers, can attest on page 43, Edition 6 of Kenya Yetu and on Smart Monkey TV:

Pedestrians: Every pedestrian is a potential crash; they ruin your precious momentum at every opportunity – crossing between cars, hesitating in the middle of the pedestrian crossing, crossing at a leisurely pace as you approach on a climb, stepping onto the road at a moment’s notice without looking, and walking along the tarmac road along the curb to avoid the dusty, unpaved foot paths. They respond surprisingly well to the bicycle bell, my thumb is always half-on it.

DEAR PEDESTRIAN: If you wear your ear phones at high volume and walk on the road along the curb, you put both you and I in danger.

Motorists: All Nairobi drivers looking at you from the safety of their metal chariots either think you are a maniac or brave cycling in this city. They are probably right on both counts. Hopefully, you have been a driver and know that Nairobi drivers like to multi-task – mobile phone while negotiating a junction or a roundabout with one hand, newspaper on the steering wheel – who is crazier now?

The matatu driver is not a motorist: You may not have been a matatu driver but have ridden in one several times, enough to know that they hoot unnecessarily using altered car horns and other noisy devices (I am pretty sure the latter are illegal).  I thought they would be a major challenge to me as a cyclist; believe it or not, they are surprisingly pleasant if you make eye contact and indicate in good time. Their brakes are accessories though. You have been warned.

To a Nairobi cyclist the road signs, pedestrian crossings and traffic lights, even the traffic cop are merely advisory, pedestrian beware. The cyclist in Nairobi has to stay ahead of traffic to stay alive.

I am “half-a-pedestrian”, so, I will use the side-walk when the two-lane, two-way road turns into a three-lane road at rush hour as motorists overlap and a special matatu lane is created. I am however grateful when “the walking nation” politely part and give me path while the County Council of Nairobi demonizes me with that by-law prohibiting “propelling on footpaths” instead of putting up cycling infrastructure. Thankfully the Chinese road contractors – though the design is questionable – recognize this as evidenced by the protected cycle lanes along Kileleshwa Ring Road.

Learner driver should be overtaken on the right over the yellow line, remember to signal the cars coming up behind you about to do the same or end up as road kill. Cyclists who choose to overtake along the curb are rushing to a date with death.

Speaking of which. You will feel empathy for road kill, just don’t dwell on it too long or you will be next.

Kileleshwa Ring Road cycle path in pictures:

Step one in the making of a Nairobi cycle path along Kileleshwa Ring Road

Step 1 murram: The making of a Nairobi cycle path along Kileleshwa Ring Road

The cycle lane narrows out as it gets "chocked" by the pedestrian foot path and road on Kileleshwa Ring Road

Some sections of the cycle lane narrow out as it gets “choked” by the pedestrian foot path and road on Kileleshwa Ring Road. A sign that the cycle path is not taken very seriously as part of urban infrastructure.

A finished cycle path on Kileleshwa Ring Road approaching Raptor Road

Step 3 gravel: The making of the cycle path along Kileleshwa Ring Road, approaching Rhaptor Road, Westlands.

That drainage ditch ensures the cyclist and motorists never meet along Kileleshwa Ring Road

Stage 4 Oil: That drainage ditch ensures the cyclist and motorists never meet along Kileleshwa Ring Road

The pavement warriors - bollards - prevent motorists from accessing the pavement, but create an obstacle for cyclist wanting to get back onto cycle path at a crossing.

The pavement warriors – bollards – prevent motorists from accessing the pavement, but create an obstacle for cyclist wanting to get back onto cycle path at an intersection/crossing. See how pedestrians spread out over both foot path and cycling path on the evening trek home.

The contractor saw that putting a cyclist sign was sufficient in letting folks know that there is a cycle path. Observe the roadside hawker occupying the pedestrian path and the pedestrians in turn over running the cycle path at a junction. It slows the cyclists momentum having to negotiate with pedestrians for path.

The same section now completed: The contractor saw that placing a cyclist sign was sufficient in letting folks know that there is a cycle path. Observe the roadside hawker occupying the pedestrian path and the pedestrians in turn over running the cycle path at a junction. It slows the cyclists momentum having to negotiate with pedestrians for path.

Even with a sign, the path needs paint markings that designate it as a bicycle lane. Saves everyone the trouble.

Even with a sign, the path needs paint markings that designate it as a bicycle lane. Saves everyone the trouble. Photo courtesy of Biciz.

Where the pedestrian & cyclist paths intersect, the pedestrian path is given priority as the cycle path (tarmacked portion) ends abruptly. The cyclist would have to disembark and assume pedestrian status by pushing bike onto cycle path to avoid breaking exisrting city by-law prohibiting "propelling on pedestrian foot paths". Not very practical.

The same section now finished: Where the pedestrian & cyclist paths intersect, the pedestrian path is given priority as the cycle path (tarmacked portion) ends abruptly. The cyclist would have to disembark and assume pedestrian status by pushing bike onto cycle path to avoid breaking existing city by-law prohibiting “propelling on pedestrian foot paths”. Not very practical.

This section of pedestrian foot path and cycle lane still under construction shows the cycle lane "disappearing".

This section of pedestrian foot path and cycle lane still under construction shows the cycle lane “disappearing”.

iLearnToCycle by FindingCalm

29 May

FindingCalm was inspired by her workmates who cycled daily to and from work. She got a bike and literary taught herself how to ride, with help from said workmates. Her tips


Learning how to cycle when you are an adult is not difficult. There’s the frustration of not having learnt how when you were a child and the general shock from peers of your having missed out on a ‘childhood rite-of-passage’. However, learning how to cycle is easy regardless of age. All you need is patience; and if you can manage it, a fun attitude.


If you are fortunate as I was, you’ll have all your buddies offering to teach you. It was sweet, but they all had different approaches to how I should go about starting, and in the end, I chose to try and teach myself. It is possible to teach yourself how to cycle in under an hour.

You need to have a bicycle suitable to your height, and a bicycle helmet.


If you have to struggle to get on the bicycle, then it’s too big for you. It should also not be too low that you have to bend over; this will strain your back. A bicycle that you can sit on with your feet firmly planted on the ground is the ideal fit. It often is necessary, to completely lower the bicycle seat. The more comfortable you are, the better your experience and confidence. It makes you calm when you don’t have to worry about falling over.


The first cycling skill to learn is steering, i.e. being able to steer the bicycle along a straight line. A location with a smooth and very gentle slope is best.  The idea of finding a gentle slope is so that you will not have to propel yourself forward and instead roll down gently.


To start, go to the top of the top of the gentle slope, hold the bicycle brakes, sit comfortably on the bicycle, and then when you are ready, gently let go of the brakes, raise both your feet off the ground (do not peddle, just keep your feet raised above ground), and gently coast down the slope. At the end of the slope, get off the bicycle, push the bicycle back up the slope, and do it again, until you are confident that you have mastered steering the bicycle in a straight line.


I repeated this up to 20 times. It’s just one of those things, when you have no experience, it seems daunting, but with experience, it becomes darn easy. You’ll notice that you tend to steer towards where you are looking. So focus on what’s ahead of you to quickly get a hang of steering on a straight line.


When you are comfortable that you have the steering down, you can move onto peddling. Before you attempt peddling, if your bicycle has gears, adjust the gears to the lower gears (i.e. the front gear should be at 1, the back gear should be at 4 or lower). Go back up to the top of the slope, and this time, instead of coasting down the slope, try peddling down the slope, gently.


Your peddling should be smooth and gentle. Don’t be forceful. Breathe in, relax, and gently peddle.


Repeat this, until you are comfortably steering and peddling. W hen you are confident that you have reasonably mastered steering and peddling, you can then try cycling on a flat surface.


The more time you spend cycling, the more your confidence will grow and so will your cycling skill.


Cycling is such fun, and is a fun way to enjoy the “great outdoors”. Cycling opens up new opportunities, not only in fitness, but in learning about yourself. It tests your boundaries, and builds courage in facing your fears, so you also grow as a person.

This video demonstrates how an adult learns to cycle.


9 Apr

I bumped into my former boss a few weeks ago at a local mall and he congratulated me on my cycling to and from work. He reported that he now is the proud owner of a scooter. I often pacify those who scoff at my cycling by promising that when I turn forty (not too far off) I will get a scooter instead. In another conversation with one of my close friends, I said that will continue to cycle for as long as I can and change from “that chic who cycles” to that “old lady who cycles”.

My current boss is warming up to the idea of a scooter, soon.

I was turning these memories in my mind as I sat in traffic from 9:20 am, on what seemed like a regular Nairobi Tuesday, heading to M&S logistics along Mombasa Road for the 10 am press conference hoping to meet the Scooter Addicts who were in Nairobi to promote their funds drive, and one and a half hours later I was still in the same spot. Yes, I had decided to drive there as I did not want to arrive sweaty and panting.

A blogger friend of mine had told me about the unique Partnership between a Kenyan Logistics firm, M & S Group with Scooter Addicts to raise funds and awareness for 14 Red Cross Hospitals Globally in an epic journey From Cape Town to Dublin by Scooter 2013 – an eight-month journey to ride 35,000 Kilometres across 22 countries in three continents, starting in Cape Town South Africa through Middle East with the final destination being Europe. The four men are taking this trip in an effort to raise funds that will be used in 14 Red Cross hospitals specifically catering to the needs of children with debilitating heart conditions.

Turns out the traffic cops had stepped in to make way for the various black, sleek motorcades, perhaps a sign of things to come with new government structure; stop traffic for President, stop traffic for Deputy President, stop traffic for the Governor, stop traffic for the Senator .. I watched as motorcyclists wove between our stationary vehicles to the head of traffic and wished I had cycled instead. In my head I mapped the route I would have followed; over the Kenya Railways pedestrian footbridge just beyond the Kenya Railways Headquarters, onto Dunga Road and then Enterprise Road to Mombasa road… 40 mins tops! Including 15 minutes of expected slower pace as Enterprise Road narrowed out.

IMG_1217 (1)

Dave Manor, Hein Gerber and Ian Chamberlain receive fresh tires from the M & S Group Executive team

The Scooter Addicts with Vincent Musembi MuthianiExecutive Director Lawrence Maithya, Chairman of M&S Group and Brian Changangu Muthiani, Managing Director of M&S Group at M&S Logistics offices

The Scooter Addicts with Vincent Musembi Muthiani
Executive Director Lawrence Maithya, Chairman of M&S Group and  of M&S Group at M&S Logistics offices

Mr. Brian Changangu Muthiani, Managing Director of M & S Group says they will be supporting the Scooter Addicts by providing free Customs Clearance, Duty Payment and Storage for all necessary spare parts that they will need for the remainder of their journey and to oil their scooters.

Something about the scooter gives one the feeling of comfort and safety in transitioning with ease from the bicycle. Heck, even the car emergency “doctors”, the AA,  in Britain are switching to scooters for quicker response. Some tips here to encourage you when you decide to get one, it does help to get motorcycle training first. As a commuter cyclist I cannot begin to imagine how much impact on the body a long distance scooter ride would have. I can attest to the thrill and, thereafter, pain of a century ride (100km) on a bike though. I will be watching this ride here.

~ __0
(*)/ (*)  Enjoy the ride!!  ❤ Cycling! ❤ Nairobi! and beyond!

(✿◠‿◠)SerialLoveAffair… Cured

14 Feb

I got a message from WordPress saying this month, I should be celebrating my first anniversary as a blogger. It also happens to be the month of love, when I chose to spare warm, fuzzy thoughts about the love of cycling, just for the heck of cycling. Last year we dedicated the Valentines Day cycling post to HeCyclesNairobi in (✿◠‿◠) SheCyclesNairobi Digs HeCycles It’s by watching the HeCyclesNairobis that I got the courage to get a bike and cycle these precarious streets.

This time, I want to tell you about my serial love affair and how I got over it.

I have always been athletic; in  primary school, I was always top three in the 200m and 400m dash – mostly second after long-legged Fridah. I dabbled in competitive swimming under the able tutelage of Mrs. Raburu, the swimming coach with a booming, encouraging voice. I was never too serious about swimming though and only took part in three or four meets despite being involved in hours of training.

In high school, my pal and I spoke about joining the army when we finished high school, so to ensure that we made it through the rigorous, physical entrance examination, she and I trained hard daily after classes. We would work our abs, run, do press-ups and leg ups. She was not a morning person, I was, so at 5:30 am on the weekdays as the bell rang I would wait for the dorm doors to be flung open by the matron and make a dash for the field, where I would run two or three laps. When we left high school, she joined the British Army, and I decided to go to college instead at the instigation of my army Major uncle who told me I could still join later, after college. Of course, the army dream was shed along the way as the thrill of college life and later a civilian career beckoned.

In college, I took up Tae-kwon-do and was the only female on the team, but the bruising and aches got to me so much that I quit after 6 months. I loved the work out sessions to build upper body strength though and was loving my taught abs – the taut-est they had ever been since high school, from doing some suspension crunches before daily spurring practice.  I ignored the teasing from the boys in my class as my arms got visibly toned.

A dear pal introduced me to in-line roller skating in the third year of college, the amount of quad control required and the likelihood of falling and cracking the back of my skull put me off. I loved the resilience my leg muscles developed though. I still have the roller blades at the bottom of my closet, gathering dust. She still skates to this day.

Before taking up cycling, I had become a lazy slob. No, I was not over weight or anything like that, just lazy about any exertion beyond getting out of bed and getting to work. In my adult life, I have lived within 500 meters (or less) of very good gyms, but have never been a gym-type-of-gal. It then occurred to me that I need a workout system that fits into my routine of a hubbub life. It innocently started with walking 4 km away to catch a bus daily and 4km back, when I noticed the cyclists along the Highway. They always kept moving despite the forlorn morning and evening traffic-standstill. The cyclists and the pedestrians kept moving.

Now, I am an “everyday athlete” as a commuter cyclist! It’s become a major part of my getting up and out of the house. On weekends, if I don’t find an excuse to get out by 8am, I won’t move the rest of the day; I will be terribly sluggish. On the daily climb back home from work, I don’t go easy on the pedals, I “tear them off” finishing the 12km stretch in 20-25 minutes.

What I love most about this cycling thing is the total work out; I get the effects of swimming, the cardio and strength boost of running in-line skating and taekwondo all rolled into one on my way to and from work daily; I now have effortlessly taught abs, toned arms from leaning forward on the handle bars, longer, stronger calf muscles, firm quadriceps and gluts.

I love the new me, and so does my somebody ;)!

~ __0
(*)/ (*)  Enjoy the ride!!  ❤ Cycling! ❤ Nairobi! and beyond!