To the Manor Born

Me: Nairobi, Kenya

Him: Mombasa, Kenya

Distance: 483km

This week we moved house. We are quite the veterans at moving house: since leaving for East Africa in July 2011 this is our ninth move. We are also quite the veterans at moving houses without moving companies. One memorable move in London I decided it was ridiculous to pay for a taxi to carry my meagre belongings less than a kilometre down the road (on hindsight, it would not have been ridiculous). I loaded a wheelie-suitcase, a huge backpack for my back, a huge backpack for my front, and set off, gamely ignoring the concerned looks I received from mothers with pushchairs and park drunks alike. All was going well until I was half way down the street, at which point a slight shift in balance had me toppling onto my back and flapping like a beached turtle. A kindly meaning but judgemental stranger pulled up her car to the curb and told me that 'she couldn't watch me any more' and she would take me wherever I was going if I hopped in. That was the first set of my belongings. On the second set I had the brainwave to fill the wheelie recycling bin and wheel my belongings round to the new place. I suppose technically I have now outlived the seven years bad-luck I incurred through the full-length mirror/wheelie-bin debacle. As I said, a taxi would not have been ridiculous.

Although we had not then met, He took similar approaches to moving across London, in his case relying on the two wheels of his bicycle rather than the two wheels of a recycling bin.

Moving in Tanzania our rationale remained there was no good reason we couldn't do it ourselves, or with the aid of a couple of friends. One move was literally across the road, and He and a friend put a pole on each shoulder and hung the shirts off this to walk them to the new house.

Even when we moved from Tanzania to Kenya we took the least expensive, most chaotic approach. For months after the fact He was bringing cases back from work trips to Dar, and at regular intervals a suitcase full of towels or pictures would turn up at the office, brought up by a visiting colleague from Tanzania.

So all of this meant that it was a bit of a strange feeling this time round to engage professional movers, who arrived at the old house in the morning, packed up all the belongings, and took them to the new house in the afternoon. No trips needed to try and persuade supermarkets to donate boxes. No friends to be bribed to help by the offer of pizza and beer. No shouting 'to me, to you' whilst carrying heavy furniture up flights of stairs. And, of course, no idea where my slippers (or insert almost any other word) have ended up in the new house.

There is a definite Penelope Keith in To the Manor Born feel to the whole surreal situation. Not only did 'little men' help with the move, but we then got a 'little man' to deliver a fridge and cooker, a 'little man' to fix the cooker connector, and two fabulous women to spend two days cleaning the house from top to bottom. We have come a long way from the days we dealt with the rat poo on the pillows ourselves.

And whilst we make excuses that this is because our work schedules are increasingly intense and our time (especially together) increasingly precious and valuable, it also makes me feel uncomfortable. This morning I met a fellow ex-pat who takes a matatu (public bus) once a week to remind herself she is living in Kenya, not in an ex-pat bubble of privilege. I am inspired by this commitment, but I'm not sure inspired enough to take matatus (I have done quite a bit of African public transport in my time...). My equivalent, however, was walking home from work earlier this week in a torrential rainstorm. All other ex-pats were in their cars, and I splashed in the muddy side of the road alongside Kenyans, dodging women in shower-caps and fully-grown men holding children's novelty umbrellas. Every time I made eye-contact I felt a flash of connection: that we were both struggling in the same way in the same elements.

But then, that is probably what Penelope Keith told herself when she moves to the estate's old lodge.