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Perhaps, at best, organized chaos, to be charitable, would adequately describe the Kenya/Tanzania border crossing. You have to get your passport stamped to get out Kenya, which is normal. But, considering the Kenyans inherited their bureaucracy from the Brits you’d think that they’d have figured out how to organize a queue. Alas, not. The Tanzanian side of the border was more efficient but the photo of me they pasted in my passport could hardly be more difficult to discern.
Sitting in the hot bus waiting for everyone else to get through the hoops Chief Wahoo helping with shade.
