By Greg Moore, The Kansas City Star

Imagine the vast open plains of Africa.

Picture a pride of lions resting in the shade of an acacia tree.

See in your mind a herd of gazelle hopping, more than running toward the horizon.

And finally the setting sun, casting a beautiful, hazy glow over it all.

However, on my first Friday night in Nairobi, Kenya, I was only a short drive from such freedom, but never before had I felt more captive.

Imagine a walled apartment complex with security men standing guard at heavy, metal gates.

Picture locked doors and barred windows.

See in your mind a mosquito net hanging from the ceiling and touching the floor as it surrounds a bed.

And finally, me, tucked under blankets, eyes wide open, with all of my senses on high-alert.

I listened as the noises that come with the weekend pierced the night. There was thumping bass from a nearby party. There were loud, unintelligible voices – speaking an African language, most likely Swahili, but possibly one of dozens of local dialects.

I heard everything.

A rapid thudding of footsteps caused me to hold my breath. I even noticed when the refrigerator cut on.

It had finally hit me that I was alone in a city the size of Chicago – more than 8,000 miles from home. And I was tripping.

The craziest thoughts were crossing my mind as I lay there staring into the darkness: “The airport is 14 miles away.” … “I don’t have a car.” … “I don’t speak the language.” … “My cell phone ran out of minutes.” … “I can’t call for a ride.” … “I can’t afford a plane ticket home.” … “This is no longer voluntary.”

(I told you I was tripping.)

I heard a loud bang.

It was too much. I got out of bed.

“What was that?” ... “Why am I so jittery?” … “What the hell is going on?”

And then I realized it.

I had a cup of instant coffee when I woke up.

I had a cup of Kenyan coffee around noon – that stuff is even stronger than the appeal of American pop culture (did I tell you I heard Soulja Boy on the radio in the newsroom the other day? He was encouraging me to “get my swag on.” I declined.)

And I had a cup of sweetened white Kenyan tea at 2 p.m. – that stuff is almost as strong as the coffee, which is even stronger than the appeal of American pop culture (did I tell you that after I got out of bed around 11 p.m. I turned on the TV and watched Ice Cube wrestle a giant fish in “Are We There Yet?” I’m serious, I’ve got like six channels and that was what was on?!)

Yep, I was tweaking on caffeine – 9 hours after I had my last sip.

That night, I did some push-ups and went back to bed. And I’ve been laughing about it ever since … especially times like this, when I’m about to go get some of that tea.

The Kansas City Star has exchanged journalists with Nation Media in Nairobi, Kenya, for the last three years in partnership with the Alfred Friendly Press Fellowships. Greg Moore, who is The Star's wire editor, is traveling and teaching journalism in Kenya and Uganda for the next several weeks.