While we were lodged in Kenya, Barbara and I found our accommodations adequate for our needs, though nothing of the sort we expect from motels in America, the lone exception being the Serena Lodge at the Masai Mara wildlife preserve. We spent more nights at the Club Heritage Resort (motel) in Naivasha than anywhere else. For protection from malaria carrying mosquitoes, we slept under netting to prevent mosquito bites. Apparently it worked for as far as I can tell, I received no mosquito bites during the two weeks we were in Kenya.
Because Kenya is situated on the equator and the climate in Naivasha was mild, we did not need air-conditioning or heating systems to remain comfortable at night. Personal hygiene by the Kenyans we met seemed adequate, but for whatever reason, washcloths and hand towels were not provided by the motels. Barbara and I each had one bath towel, but that was all.
We had closet spaces but no dressers in our rooms, thus living out of a suitcase was more difficult than normal. The bathrooms consisted of a wall-mounted lavatory with a mirror, a commode, and a shower, all in a space roughly four feet by seven feet, with no vanity, no shower curtain, and virtually no hot water.
The shower head contained an electric water heater, but it did not function very well. Most everyone in our group, including me, reported taking cold to lukewarm baths. I would complain, except having seen the makeshift shower stalls the more than 335 families living in one of the IDP (Internally Displaced People) camps, I’m grateful the motel had an indoor facility, and I didn’t have to bathe out of a plastic container.
We enjoyed private dining for breakfast and dinner, which was a nice treat. The same members of the motel staff served us daily. There was plenty of food to choose from, but very little that appealed to me. I almost converted to vegetarianism while in Kenya, because I found very little meat that I could chew and swallow.
For my first few days in Kenya, I ate the pale-yolk eggs that were served. I tried them scrambled and the eggs looked white. I tried them fried and they looked white. I tried an omelet with peppers and cheese and it too looked white. I don’t think I tried them again.
The sausages served for breakfast looked awful and tasted like cheap bologna. Twice we were served bacon, and twice I tried to figure out what part of the pig it came from. It didn’t have enough fat to come from the belly and wasn’t lean enough to be Canadian bacon.
A few mornings I tried the fresh fruit selections, but generally I shied away from fruit. I don’t trust the handling fruit procedures in America, and I surely don’t in a third-world country. So, I ate a lot of toast and jam or toast and peanut butter for my breakfasts.
Our evening meals at the motel offered some variety from our noon meals eaten thirty miles away, but by the end of the week, I had given up chewing anything they called beef. As an old meat man, I’ve cut just about every part of a steer from the head back and down, but I’ve never seen meat that had gristle throughout it. 
Early on in my Kenya trip, I learned that most any of the vegetable combinations or stews could be combined with the ever-plentiful rice. I also learned to put enough hot sauce on the food to make it go down easier. I never went hungry, but after two weeks in Kenya I came home ten pounds lighter.
While I may have grumbled and complained about my life in Kenya, it should not be construed that I didn’t have a good experience. As I told a teammate, "I wouldn't take anything for experiencing Kenya for two weeks, but I can't think of anything that would merit my returning."
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