Hotel Afrique

‘You always sleep in hotels like this?’ Lyse asks. We are sitting in the Plantation Bar in the Inter-Continental in Nairobi. She takes a sip of her Fanta, and she smiles to her cousin Floribert who is sitting next to me at the marble table. It’s around midnight, and we just did an interview in the room. Lyse is a refugee from Burundi, and for some time she is living in Nairobi, with support of Floribert. Lyse is seventeen-years-old. Her hair is plaited with a ponytail. She has a generous smile, and eyes that shine on the words she speaks. French that is, her English is not yet mature.
We are here because of the Dutch television program ‘TROS Vermist’. That’s a live show where people who lost each other for long time are reunited. The program is aired weekly for almost twenty years, and it is attracting millions of viewers every show.
‘This is a very expensive hotel,’ says Floribert to Lyse. ‘Think it’s 300 Dollars per night.’ It can easily be more than that, but I keep quiet. Lyse’s mouth falls open in astonishment. ‘Olala!’ she says, forgetting her English. Also it’s not my habit to stay in hotels like this. It happens from time to time, and usually I enjoy the dip in costly luxury. Although you can wonder what’s the real added value of an expensive room since you will be sleeping most of the time. We came with a special reason. TROS Vermist had tracked Lyse as the brother of a certain Elvis who lives in The Netherlands. He is a football player in a professional team, not premier but still in the higher rankings. Some months ago one of their reporters by the name of Pim Faber came to Nairobi for two days to make a portrait of Lyse in Kenya. We did the camera work with her in Nairobi, and at the Namanga border post with Tanzania. The idea was to show how she fled from Burundi via Tanzania to Kenya. Lyse and Floribert enjoyed these days of filming. They were driven around in taxis the whole day, and Lyse was starring in a report. In the afternoon we went to her small room in the Kirinyaga estate, for an interview. The room she was occupying was about four square meters, and didn’t have much more than a mattress, a radio and a few books. She was crying when the reporter showed her a picture of her brother Elvis. When we were finished we took them to the Italian restaurant Trattoria on Kenyatta Avenue, and the second night for nyama choma, roasted goat to Sagret Hotel in Milimani. Lyse was happy with the meat, more than with the sophisticated Italian food. They normally would survive on the daily rations of ugali (polenta) with sukuma wiki, a kind of Kenyan spinach mix; staple food for the majority of Kenyans. If they’re lucky they have goat or chicken once in a while. You could see that Lyse and Floribert were smiling to each other like saying they were having a great time.

Visa
The reporter flew back to The Netherlands with the tapes. He told that TROS Vermist was trying very hard to get a visa for Lyse, so she could be reunited with her brother in the show. Being Dutch myself I know that the Dutch regulations nowadays are very strict. If you look at the requirements, you could conclude it’s almost impossible to bring somebody over from Kenya. The invitation letter is not a big deal, but the deposit is. The person who invites has to prove he or she can afford a large sum of Euros ‘in case the person might disappear in The Netherlands’. The idea is that this money is needed for tracking a person, and having him deported. Furthermore the person visiting has to prove that he or she has good reasons to go back, like a job or another indispensable position. In case of a job the employer has to issue a letter stating that he’s willing to re-employ the person after the trip abroad. TROS Vermist was still working on all that.
For some months I didn’t hear from them or from Lyse and Floribert. Then the editor of the program called. ‘Do you know a place where you can receive our show in Kenya?’ That might be possible, since TROS Vermist is broadcasted on a international Dutch satellite channel, called BVN (meaning Best of Netherlands). Where do you receive that channel? In a forum of international correspondents I did a posting, and my colleagues reported having BVN on their satellite dish at home. That was lovely, but the program would be broadcasted live around midnight in Kenya. Didn’t like the idea of invading somebody’s house around that hour. TROS Vermist had dedicated a show on Lyse and her brother Elvis. He would be in the studio, and she was supposed to watch it from Kenya on BVN. Also Lyse would be invited to chat over the phone with her brother. Regarding the satellite television: all over Africa there is a service called DSTV, provided by a company in South Africa. They have a bouquet of channels, and from what I remembered, also BVN. So I checked, and amazingly enough: they offer BVN, but it is not in the bouquet for Kenya!

Karaoke
With help of the BVN web site and the editor of TROS Vermist, we discovered that BVN is also beamed into Kenya by a satellite by the name Thaicom. You have to direct a two meter dish in a specific direction, and there will it pop up. That means that Dutch people in Kenya did that. If you’re willing to buy a separate dish to receive BVN, I would say you’d rather stay in The Netherlands. The web site also mentioned the Inter-Continental Hotel in Nairobi as a place to see BVN. Would they have a dedicated dish for the Dutch? That might be the case, since KLM crew sleeps there. So I went to the Inter-Continental to check. It’s located in a drab building that looks like a run down ministry of Finance. The interior is nice with its spacious marble lobby. At the reception they took my request seriously. ‘Yes, sir. Our technician is on the way to serve you,’ said the uniformed receptionist. ‘Please have a seat.’ Wonder what he was thinking. Maybe I looked stressed? Show time after all was looming. The receptionist doesn’t know that. He sees a Dutch foreigner who is apparently craving for Dutch television. The technician came, and invited me to the Safari Club, the bar in Inter-Continental which is famous for its Tuesday karaoke, and the upper class prostitutes. The bar was closed, but he brought me to a TV. He took a chair and placed it in front on the television. ‘Here you are, sir.’ With the remote he switched it on, and changed it to channel 24. There it was, BVN! ‘Enjoy,’ he said, and wanted to walk away. Although I was attracted because of the Dutch, I stopped him. ‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘Just wanted to see if it is really there.’ The guy nodded with a funny look. ‘Okay,’ he said.

Girls
‘Very good,’ said the editor of TROS Vermist. ‘Good you checked it.’ At the reception I did a booking for a room. Since the hotel was in the middle of a renovation they could offer us a luxury room for a reduced rate. I told the lady at the reception that I would bring in two visitors. ‘I see,’ she said with a slow pronunciation. ‘When will they leave the room?’ she asked with that forced polite intonation which is common at hotel receptions. I explained her that I would bring two visitors to watch a show on Dutch television, and that they would leave after. ‘So they’re not staying?’ I wonder if she heard anything of what I said. She was typing on a keyboard of a concealed computer. ‘Otherwise we have to charge you.’ The lady took a key card from the slot, and gave it to me. ‘Make sure they bring their ID.’
These remarks have a clear reason; I came to understand on other occasions. It has something to do with the upper class ladies in the bar, often referred to as ‘girls’. Especially international business men tend to be lonely, and can choose to comfort the night with one (or more) of them. That’s a natural phenomenon, only this hotel in the past had trouble with men taking ladies, and refusing to pay for their stay, which is logical, since it becomes a double occupation. ‘It’s okay, sir,’ said the lady when finishing the typing. I wonder what she entered in the system.
The next day I started the preparations to get Lyse and Floribert to the hotel. The room was available, and BVN was still there. Having checked into the room in the afternoon I did the testing with the camera. I found a position next to the television, which enabled me to film Lyse watching, and to make some shots off-screen. Then I called Floribert to find out where I could find Lyse. He told me she moved to another room on Kirinyaga Road. We made an appointment near the previous apartment. Floribert was smiling diligently, and together we walked up the road, famous because of its garages, tyre shops, batteries, exhaust pipes, et cetera. He brought me to Kirinyaga Guest House, on a ten minutes walk. The building was painted blue, and had a small entrance gate. We went to the third floor, passing drying laundry, ladies cooking on charcoal stoves, small boys staring at me and then run away, until we reached a closed wooden blue door. Floribert knocked, and there Lyse opened. She was still smiling, but didn’t exactly look healthy. It was like she could burst into tears any moment. She was seated on a thin mattress with no bed sheets. The room it self was one and half square meters. In the corner there was a petroleum stove, mugs, and cutlery. A bit of sukuma wiki was left in a pan. The walls were painted in the same blue, but up from the floor came a brown haze. ‘I am okay,’ she said in French, but for the rest she was quiet. Didn’t really know what to say. So I asked her if she was happy to speak to her brother this evening. She was, and we agreed that I would pick her and Floribert at eight.
Down stairs again I called TROS Vermist to say that I found Lyse, and that she would be coming to the hotel. Now everything was set.

Visitors
Watching BVN in the room and doing some work I passed the remaining hours, and went by taxi to pick Lyse and Floribert. The driver dropped us at nine thirty at the main entrance of the hotel. The guards at the door knew me so entering was easy, and we presented our selves at the reception. ‘You take them both?’ asked the lady who now was standing at the counter. Wonder what her imagination was telling her when I introduced both Lyse and Floribert. Usually a man only takes one person at a time to the room. It was embarrassing, but I kept quiet to keep Lyse and Floribert from being annoyed. ‘Until what time will you keep them?’ Around twelve, I replied. ‘Know that if they stay, you will be charged accordingly,’ said the lady, who didn’t even look up from the hidden screen. Lyse and Floribert handed over their ID’s, and there we went to the elevator. We had to walk a long corridor with nicely decorated shops with curios, painting of safari parks and Masai warriors. Coming from the small room in Kirinyaga estate it must have been a culture shock, but they didn’t show any sign of it.
‘What for drinks?’ I asked Lyse and Floribert in the room. There was a firmly filled mini bar, with all sorts of soda’s, juices, beer and even vodka and whiskey. Coca Cola for him, Fanta for her. We passed the time chatting about the luxury in the room, shows on the satellite service of DSTV. The room was nice; the table, the chairs, the bed, and the desk where made of a dark red tropical wood. On the walls there were oil on canvas paintings of Masai and safari scenes. The place was lighted with tiny halogen spot lights. The bath room was a palace made of marble, and holding a wide variety of soaps and lotions. I made it my habit to take all of it with me after leaving this type of hotels.

Missing
The editor of TROS Vermist called us around eleven, the show was almost on. Lyse was sitting on the edge of the bed. The wireless microphone to the camera was connected. Her eyes were bright, and on her cheeks the light of the television was reflecting. The leader of the show started. Also me I never saw Lyse’s brother. The show began with another missing case in The Netherlands. All of us were too exited to watch that, but then after came the item on Lyse. ‘I didn’t see Elvis for at least five years,’ she had told me before. From the reporter I knew that her brother Elvis thought she was dead. On television now he showed up as a polite and gentle young man with rasta hair. ‘Oh,’ said Lyse and grabbed her cheeks. She tried to smile, and tried to control it at the same time. Her eyes were turning wet, and meanwhile we saw Lyse walking in Kenya on the border with Tanzania, and the reporter looking for her. It took Lyse five minutes, and then she bursted in to tears. She seemed shy of crying in front of a camera. ‘How are you?’ Elvis asked from The Netherlands. Lyse was handed out my mobile phone to speak to him. Some words in English and French came out, but overwhelmed by the moment, they were hard to understand. Meanwhile I was concentrating on the camera. Filming a sad person is not easy. People in despair tend to make unexpected movements. When the show ended the editor called back to have Lyse talking to Elvis some more. They started in a local language, most probably Kirundi, and then Lyse released her many words.

Kigali

To prevent from be hassled by the hotel management we left the room soon after. Lyse and Floribert both looked relieved. We had a lively discussion at the table in the Plantation Bar. ‘It’s great how the reporter Pim Faber managed to find Lyse,’ said Floribert. Lyse was smiling with her wet eyes above the Fanta. ‘Let’s hope they can arrange for the visa to The Netherlands.’ I kept quiet, because I was not to sure about that. From there I took them outside to a taxi. Away from the five star luxury back to her small room, with obviously a lot of question marks. ‘I hope she realizes we are doing everything to get her here,’ said Pim Faber later.
Some months passed, and I never heard of Lyse or Floribert again. Then Pim Faber called me. ‘We have sad news for you. Lyse is dead.’ My thoughts were turning counter clock wise. ‘We received a call from Kigali in Rwanda. Somehow she arrived there, and a few days later she developed a fever, and passed away.’ He also told me that the visa was still not issued, and that they had been planning to bring Elvis to Kenya so the two could meet. ‘That’s too late now.’ With support of an uncle Lyse was brought over to Kenya, and she was already buried. ‘It’s a sad story, and we wanted you to know.’
It’s the kind of moment you feel lonely and sad. Not that I knew Lyse or her history so well, but it got to me. Maybe for her being part of a television program and to have entered briefly in five star luxury. Maybe that gave her something worthwhile. Happily she has had the chance to tell her story. Lyse will not be forgotten.