Journal of a Crazy Kenyan

One Africa

2011-09-23T05:39:00.000-04:00

I was supremely blessed to attend the One Africa Symposium held at Sandton City Convention and the icing on the cake was Bono being within arm's length of me at some point. I did restrain myself from smashing into him, risking his discreet security's wrath.

More importantly, I was there for the One Africa Symposium run by his One.org team and a very impressive panel that gave 10 minute presentations on the economic transformation of Africa through transparency and technology. Six months on, I have done absolutely nothing to make Africa exist as ONE. Slacker.

No matter what, I will not lick Bono.

2011-02-15T04:18:00.003-05:00

So I went to the Calabash in Soweto to go watch a small Irish rock band play to about 100,000 people and I was struck by the fact that some people spent good money to come and get completely blitzed on Heineken long before the concert started. Oh, the poor girl whom we all had to clamber over as she slumped in the middle of the walk way contemplating whether she should throw up or die. The old man who dropped his beer can down the ramp and stumbled after the damn cylinder. Oh, let's not forget the girl who passed out behind us, right onto one of our own. Then there were the two low jean wearing, sideways baseball cap with fat bills wearing, gold chains slinging, carat"ed" ears adorned and clearly clueless about this kind of music. They finally gave up halfway and sauntered off. Oh and the poor guys who'd brought their girlfriends along as a pre-valentine trip I suppose. And they too dozed off as their girls squealed and jumped when the only three songs they knew boomed all around the stadium.

Why bother? Just to say you saw U2? Eh, too each his own.

Ok, I'm off to become an activist. And I must remember not to piddle my pants this time when I meet him.

2011-02-14T09:39:00.003-05:00

After a prolific start to the year, I'm finally on a much needed break away and once again back in Suid Afrika! I love it here, except for the crime bit. But that is so prevalent and a fact of life that everyone, if not themselves, knows someone who has been victim of unkindness, sometimes violent. And you just get on with it. Fact, the day of my arrival, we were walking down to a restaurant near we live and passed a couple of cop cars parked in an open garage in a fairly affluent neighborhood. Being the recent victim of a burglary, my sister asks a passing officer whether it was a another robbery in the area. He replies casually, "No, he killed himself." Aghast at this openess, I stare back in horror at the the fabulous scene of the crime. Sister presses on, "How?" Officer continues to disclose, "He shot himself infront of his girlfriend. They were doing dregs." he drawls in that fascinating southern accent. We continue walking toward the buzzing and happening street where we were meeting friends and sister turns to me, "Is it wrong that I was more concerned that it was a burglary and feel less about the guy offing himself?" As a victim of a meth head burglary in Terre Haute, (not sure what the meth jargon is for a crackhead)I totally understood where she was coming from. Security had not been compromised despite the crime. That feeling of being safe is very important.

On a brighter note, had an amazing meal after I'd regained my appetite. Impala on a bed of gratin potatoes, peas with a red wine reduction and some alfafa mustard goodness on top. I'm going to come back with some kilos and a lighter wallet this trip, that's for sure!

Life so far...

2011-01-05T02:43:00.002-05:00

Why is it easier to go on a diet with money in your pocket?

One way Nairobi street signs do not apply to tuk tuks, messenger bikes and taxis reversing.

There's more traffic when the cops are working than when the lights are.

Are anti-piracy laws applicable outside of Europe and North America?

It is cheaper to book a round-trip ticket to Boston from Nairobi than to fly to Windhoek.

(not that I'm complaining) Every long distance road trip using public means usually starts with the driver asking a passenger to say a prayer for all of us.

Making a doctor's appointment in Nairobi.

2010-11-25T01:15:00.002-05:00

Hi, I've been referred to Dr. X for an emergency consultation and I'd like to make an appointment for as soon as possible today.

OK. WHEN WOULD YOU LIKE TO COME?

Uhh, as soon as possible. Like today.

OK, TODAY WOULD BE FINE BUT HE'S NOT IN UNTIL NEXT MONDAY.

HELLO?

Why would I make an appointment for someone who will not be there for a week?

YOU COULD TRY - YOU NEVER KNOW.

HELLO?

Is there anyone else I could see or that I can be referred to?

NO.

So you're telling everyone who calls to stay sick until next week so that they can see this specialist?

YES.

Did you seriously just answer yes to that question?

YES.

Infamous "Busted" on Kenyan Radio

2010-10-25T14:09:00.005-04:00

On a Thursday night I was watching one of those Lifetime / CW / AnyUSNetwork syndicated shows that never survive more than two seasons. Only reason I was watching it was I needed some background noise while downloading The Amazing Race (greatest show ever!). Anyway, the show's premise was being able to revisit your past and change one aspect of it that changes somebody's life or your perception on life. Long story short, the original story was about a regular 20something in college going out on the town with her openly lesbian friend and realizing there was a connection between them. When the opportunity came, she backed out "not feeling" it. The flashback was about her "feeling it" and finally experimenting and coming to the realization that it was not her thing and the subsequent changes in her life based on that action. There was light kissing and groping involved in the flashback which I had to guess occurred because KTN, the local cable news network censored each and every movement and action of lesbian love (incredibly mild, sorry guys) and it ended up being hinted and not acted out. Seriously, they cut out pretty much half the story in an effort to prevent such scenes from hitting the Kenyan screen. I hmmphed but recognized the audience they were trying to "protect" from such images and as is with all things quizzical and comical Kenyan, I forgot about it.

The following morning, I was on my matatu (small minibus deathtrap commuter) ride to work and they were broadcasting a popular talk morning radio show with Maina Kageni & Mwalimu King'ani. They really are quite awesome in that the former is the voice of the typical urban Nariobian and the latter is the quintessential broke local Kenyan playing over each others perceptions of a modern Kenya. They typically pick a theme of discussion and work the audience opinions with call-ins, e-mails or FB updates on what the average Kenyan regardless of background, perceives.

So the topic this Friday was based on the "Busted" show of the previous afternoon. It runs every afternoon where an unsuspecting caller gets a call from a travel agent or corporate congratulating a suspected unfaithful with a trip or reward for two and asking them who they would like to bring along. Most times the idiots pick their clandestine (clandes!) as their designated invites but the savvy traitors always pick their spouses / girlfriends/ boyfriends. The show, Busted was started by a bitter chain smoking Kenyan lass named Ciku who busted her ex live on air with an unexpected phone call, and the premise of the show grew from there.

This particular "Busted" was by a Kenyan man who suspected his wife was cheating on him with her employer. So the show employed Ciku (?) or some woman with a convincing rural accent to call the woman up as the employer's wife and question the relationship, all the while the husband of the cheater was listening in. Let's call the cheater Maureen. So Mrs. A asks her politely whether the stories that have been making the rounds about Maureen and Mr. A are true. Naturally the girl denies the actions saying absolutely not and she would not cross that boundary. Mrs. A in a very matronly and nurturing voice says that she is a God-fearing woman and does not wish for confrontation and harbors no anger but feels that she needs to let Maureen know that she is HIV positive and her husband has in fact been tested with the AIDS virus. Maureen gives away the truth by repeatedly voicing "Oh God! Oh no! Oh God! No! No! Oh God!". Mrs. A asks her during this outburst whether she has been using condoms. Maureen blurts out, "NO! Oh God! No! No!" At this point Mrs. A says she's with her personal physician (Maureen's husband) and that he has something to say. The "doctor" gets on the phone, a very pissed off husband who starts yelling down the phone, "What is this?! Seriously? How could you? What were you thinking?" Maureen who has probably been outlining her life and how she got infected with HIV and WTF she's going to tell her husband, if she's going to tell her husband. She soon realizes that it is her husband on the line and quickly hungs up.

Maina (the radio DJ) now queries callers on their opinions. At eight in the morning, in a matatu, one caller says, "Shit! That woman is fucked! She should just go kill herself because she's in so much shit!". Another caller, "So what? Should we feel any different just because it was a woman who got busted?" Caller number 1,223 says that Justice served is justified.

Granted I didn't listen to the rest of the morning show for the next two hours - I have a job! But the overwhelming response was toward the actions of Maureen. I did not hear in that short period of time that you DON'T JOKE ABOUT AIDS or HIV! By the way, this thing has started to grow (quite appropriately) out of proportion because you don't make light of an epidemic. Of all the sexually transmitted afflictions, why did they pick AIDS / HIV! Pick syphilis or gonorrhea! Not a affliction that requires a total life adjustment and of all places in Africa where the disease should be taken more seriously than it currently is.

Did Ciku and her crew think ahead about the reactions of this girl Maureen? I haven't heard any followup on the girl but did she harm herself after this charade? She was busted on live radio with her husband listening in about her infidelity with a married man who may or may not be infected with HIV! And they were so blase about it!

Never liked that show, never liked the personalities behind it but I was more pissed off because just last night, I watched this supposedly controversial show that had to be heavily censored on the lip locking and suggestive lesbianism effect on impressionable Kenyans (at 11 p.m.) to wake up and hear cursing and abuse and mocking of an untreatable virus at 8 a.m.

Still quite livid about it because it trivializes the epidemic and the stigma attached to it as well as drive home so many uniformed perceptions about the HIV virus and AIDS. Isn't the job of radio to inform and not to perform?

Emotion: Angry and Disappointed.

The Egg Chapati

2010-10-23T01:53:00.003-04:00

Most delicious bar hopping snack ever. Discovered at a fast food restaurant called Moto Moto (hot hot or fire fire) just outside of Westlands, Nairobi, it tastes even better the next morning as a breakfast food.

They take a very soft chapati dough, shape it flat and spread all around a permanently hot karai (wide flat frying pan. Once spread, brush with oil and then take two well beaten eggs and pour into the middle of the dough. Fold the chapati's edges to make a square shape. Cook for two minutes and then flip the egg-chapati over and cook for a few more minutes.

Awesome awesome snack.

I meant to take a picture of it but I was starving.

Life so far

2010-06-16T12:56:00.002-04:00

It's been interesting in Nairobi. I dislike this city more and more on some days but adore the company that I keep regularly to pass the evenings. I have established Hooters as my local. Nope, not the boobies, beer and wings fest variety, rather a typical pub/bar/restaurant that is in the Central Business District of Nairobi. The food is awesome, the beer is fantastically cold - except on Friday because a couple of us take Thirsty Thursday's to task.

My job has unfortunately become just that. A job. I don't enjoy what I do as much and I'm trying to figure out how better I can move up or around to bring that excitement back because I am LOSING MY FREAKING MIND! I think I just need a holiday to reboot but that's a band-aid on a gaping seeping open sore at the moment. Opportunities elsewhere are difficult to come by and Kenya is truly truly truly a country of networking. If you know nobody, it's virtually impossible to find a job. Oh, and they are super fixated on certificates. Some companies even require you have a Microsoft Office certification before they consider you. Ummm, I graduated using Microsoft applications, does that count? And I use Excel so much that Word has become a challenge. Sigh.

The country is gearing up to vote in the referendum concerning a new constitution. The Yes team (color green) are for the proposed new constitution that updates the archaic one from yesteryear. While the No team (color red) says hell to the no, keep it like it is. What's worked for us for 30 odd years is good enough. The colors were picked and approved by both camps. No team are not to bright, eh? Anyway, I'm voting yes for one reason only. Currently, under the No team, if I get married to a foreigner as a woman, I lose my citizenship and my children, unless born in Kenya are party and parcel to my husband's country. The New Constitution is much more progressive and recognizes that women are individuals unto themselves and should be treated the same as men who have not had that restriction. I don't care what else the package comes with - but isn't that democracy for you? Find what works for you and promote the hell out of it. The No idiots are campaigning on the ignorance of Kenyans, spreading all sorts of malicious vitriol about what the Yes guys really want. The Yes team recognizes Kadhi courts (Muslim courts that administer and serve justice to willing Muslims). The No team goes into villages that have probably never seen a Muslim and they tell them that the Kadhi court means they too will be subjected to Muslim Law and that includes yes, Al Shabaab and other extremist groups. And there are plenty of village idiots that believe this.

Oh yes, I have become way more cynical and hardened to life since moving here. I have less patience for people (more for queues, eeek!), I don't answer numbers I don't recognize, I don't call "flashers" back. (Flashers are the fools that let your phone ring once so that you can call them back or they send "please call me requests")98% of those callers are looking for money. I don't go out on weekends as much because I hate the routine of bar hopping, eating tons of roast meat, trying to move around crowded bars and generally spending too much money. I have had (and still do) have the opportunity to go to a mate's place for a Saturday dinner but the idea of going home late at night driving down car-jacking streets is not appealing.

I hate that I don't have a washing machine and I'm one of those who doesn't let the maid do my delicates so I have to do that every freaking weekend.

Pros at the moment - my family, who recognize my quirks and know when I am itching for a fight and they will always make me laugh and remember why I am still here. Oh, and reading blogs of people in the service industry really makes my day. Right now on Melissa's Flight Attendant blog. So hilarious!

Other than that, actively looking to going back to school. Missing the structure of a full day of coursework and the occasional pint at the pub.

Will be in a better place next time. I promise.

Time to Travel!

2010-03-16T00:30:00.002-04:00

I'm way overdue for a mini vacation so with a whole week ahead of me, I'm debating where to go. I'm tempted to do my tried and tested trips to Diani but going solo is not as fun - plus my sister will annihilate me if I put one toe on a sandy white beach without her. I don't want to go upcountry to the highlands either because it has been raining intermittently which renders the roads impassable. Naivasha is lovely but will be full of Nairobians who quite frankly I'm a bit tired of at the moment.

Whilst researching where to go, I've been following some travel blogs to get inspired. I never tire of the budget backpackers tales of going Cape to Cairo or reverse. I think you have to have some degree of insanity to try and sustain a trip on the road for $25 max a day, including accommodation, food and transportation. But these trips mean so much in a life changing way to these people and their accounts of misery, woes and subsequent joy make me want to experience something just like that.

One of the travelblogs I've read is written by a young man from Cape Town who has bipolar disorder and has documented his trip in a very articulate manner and has written in such a way to transport you into his experience. In addition to that, I learned about the Abayudaya who are Ugandan Jews, very much in existence at the foot of Mount Elgon. Fascinating stuff!

So I'm going to get out my old Twende magazines and pick up a new one called Destinations, all about East Africa Travel and see if I can find somewhere to do a mini backpacker vacation.

For all those wanting to move back to Kenya and work....

2010-02-22T23:57:00.002-05:00

I found the following on a Kenyan Jobs blog site. Very interesting and shockingly true. I know a couple of people who've come back and found it immensely difficult to adjust to a country that is heavy on certification.

http://kenyanjobs.blogspot.com/2009/09/job-search-experience-from-usa-with.html?showComment=1266799837386

Job Search Experience: From USA with Great Expectations of the Kenyan Job Market

So I decided to return to Kenya after ten years abroad. I figured that with over 8 years of experience working in the United States of America, it should be a breeze finding a job here in Kenya.

So every day I went to the cybercafé and sent out email after email with my resume attached. Funny enough after two weeks of sending out emails, there were absolutely no responses to my enquiries or even my submissions to advertised jobs. I thought that was very strange.

I have a Bachelor of Commerce degree and a Master of Business Administration degree. I am also very interested in software so most of the jobs I have held have required both Information System skills and business acumen. In every company I worked for in the USA, I got rave reviews and that’s saying something.

The last company I worked for in the USA tried hard to make me stay but I really had my heart set on returning home. I have experience managing large budget IT and process improvement projects all of which were completed on time and under budget. The projects all achieved their objectives. I really should have been flooded with email and phone requests for interviews! But not one company responded. It was time for a strategy change.

First I registered with the recruiting firms that I knew about. The first recruiting firm called me up because they thought I was a good match for a project management position they had. After looking through the job description, I thought, “Bingo, I found my job!’ The interview did not quite go as I expected.

As much as a tried to steer the conversation towards a discussion of the projects I had successfully managed, it somehow shifted towards a discussion of how well I knew a particular ERP software. I explained that my most fulfilling experience was actually managing the implementation of an ERP that I had never used before. I also explained that I am a really fast learner and enjoy a challenge. I don’t think she was convinced. I never heard from her again. No matter. I had to keep looking.

Things went much better with the next recruiting firm. They were very professional. They also had a job in mind for me but they needed to meet me first and have me pay a membership fee.

The vacancy was for a business analyst position. They wanted someone who could analyze business processes and determine if there was a software that could be written, purchased or modified to improve the process. I had done this is the USA and was very excited that this would be the job for me. They also need ed the applicant to be conversant with the Sarbanes-Oxley Act. That was my speciality in the USA! Oh, this was it.

After our meeting, the recruiting agent was happy with me and submitted my resume to the hiring company. Just like me, the people at the recruiting agency thought that I would get the job. At the company, I was interviewed by two men. The interview was held on a little round table in the office of one of the men.

This was a very strange interview.

This was how part of the interview went:

THEM: Do you like sports?
ME: Yes.

THEM: Which sports do you participate in?
ME: Well, I have recently started to play golf. I also play squash, swim and cycle.

THEM: Do you like to party?
ME: Once in a while I will but I do not do it often.

THEM: Do you like house parties or would you rather go to club?
ME: I prefer house parties that do not have really loud music because I like to have conversations where I can hear what other people are saying and I don’t have to shout to be heard.

THEM: Do you like to have people over to your house?
ME: Yes, I do. I like to invite friends over to watch movies, play cards and games like Taboo.

THEM: What would you rather do: go out to play golf or invite your friends over for a game?
ME (quite puzzled by now): Well, I guess, I would prefer to have my friends over.

THEM: How old are you?
ME: (That is an illegal question in the USA, can they ask this in Kenya? I don’t know if it is illegal in Kenya so I’ll go ahead and answer it): 29

THEM: Where do you live?

That had to be the strangest interview. They did ask a few questions about my qualifications but for the most part, I felt like I was being interviewed for a date. I was quite confident about my skill match for the position and they both seemed like really nice people. I was looking forward to working with them and asking them why they asked such strange questions at the interview. After two weeks I hadn’t heard from them or the recruiting agency. I wrote one of the men an email asking what the progress was. He wrote back saying I did not qualify.

So emailing wasn’t working, recruiting firms seemed promising but I had had no luck so the next strategy was to call up people I knew. I called up all the people I knew to let then know that I was looking for a job and need their help.

Another thing I did was to cut off my dreadlocks. Maybe they were putting off some recruiters.

The strategy of using my network of friends and acquaintances was the most successful. I got an audience with people from several of the firms that I would like to work with.

After four months of searching, I did find a job.

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Posted by jobsinkenya at 5:41 AM

Labels: Job Search Tips, Job Search Incidences

10 comments:

Anonymous said...

Wow, I really can relate to your experience. Came back to Kenya after 10 years in the IT Management field in Canada - and you just wrote what I am experiencing. I am in my 3rd month now and possibly just maybe close to getting a job. But what a culture shock its been!

Thanks for posting your experience.
October 6, 2009 1:49 PM
Anonymous said...

I can imagine the experience... Jobs are so hard to find...you need connections and influences to land on a good job...It's so heart breaking!!!I have had a number of interviews.. where the interviewer would ask.. what does your father do?? what does your mother do?instead of concentrating on what you can do!!!!!!it's so unfortunate that the answers you give will determine whether ul earn a good pay or not............if the father is poor be sure to earn less than 15k for a graduate!!!!and if your father is rich........why are u seeking employment then???they would remark....go and join your father in doing business......that would be a farewell for you and your papers thrown away..Hope this mentality will change one day... it has been persistent for a long time now
October 19, 2009 6:24 AM
Anonymous said...

Weird, but I'm sort of happy that I'm not the only one going through that. I had begun thinking that there's something about me that really turns the prospective employers off. I have a degree from a university in the USA and even before graduation, I actually applied to so many jobs in Kenya in the hopes of being an intern. None responded. After graduating, I worked at a local airport in Houston, but still kept applying for aviation related jobs back home, because that's where I want to be. None ever responded, yet day in day out, they keep posting new jobs on their sites. It really is sad, especially when one is dealing with big companies that try to portray themselves as being equal opportunity employers, yet that's exactly what they're not.
November 10, 2009 12:13 PM
Baraza said...

that is the way to go,know some few people here and there,papers are not everything since if we ask for papers how many people will bring them,so many.job hunting is very hard especially if the HR are asking for strange things,recently i saw a job advert of a Logistics Manager who should have Degree in Law,and another one which was still Logistics Coordinator who should have Degree in IT,so what about those specialist in Procurement and Logistics,is this not there work.
November 26, 2009 2:33 AM
nelly said...

i know the feeling, i came from japan in 2008 Dec with what i thought was an impressive CV (i can speak and write japanese for heavens sake how many in the job market can do that!!) till now i havent found a job!! and am giving up on kenya, am planning how to go back and stay there, we need to start employing people for what they can do not for who they know!! its time we stopped running our country like the free mason where you have to know one to be one! you know what the saddest part is , no one in JKIA (airport) has a mastery of language like i do (did i say i speak french too and have an economics degree from ritsumeikan, and experience working in Tokyo!!) ive given up on kenya!the world is a village nowadays anyway, whoever said i have to be tied to where i was born?
January 4, 2010 2:40 AM
Anonymous said...

nelly and the rest, please stop complaining.To get a job in kenya you must be VERY SMART and not necessarily know somebody...its simple there are so many others you dont know who are smatter than you.I have a degree in Computer science-egerton university,certifications in sun solaris,certification in SPSS-statistical analysis, a diploma in banking and i am now taking Oracle certification.I have changed 5 jobs in the past 4 years and i never apply for two jobs without being called for an interview by one and i am only 28.i at one time got two jobs and kept one appointment letter for BBK in the house in 2007.so its simple...go back to school and get more and more certifications in as many fields as possible and ensure that you are a master in all.there are others who have better papers and will always get an upper hand in job hunting in kenya!
January 7, 2010 1:25 AM
Anonymous said...

Strange that they asked you such illegal and irrelevant questions. I think your downfall was actually answering those questions. They may have been testing you to see how far you'd go. Maybe do some research on the type of interview questions kenyan companies ask. Hope you find something soon!
January 9, 2010 6:05 AM
mercy said...

My simple advise to the people coming from abroad is - Keep yourself simple.Dont try to over-impress your interviewer by the fact that you were studying abroad coz it gives them a leeway to tease you.
Next,if someone asks some obnoxious qstns such as what your mother does, kindly remind them that the Q n A is about you.It doesn't hurt to show them that you know what you went for at the interview.Remember,most of them will not ask that unless they want to put you off.So again, don't intimidate these fellows with your foreign accent, or papers.Then again, I honestly wonder if recruitment firms ever help anyone.Be careful, they will only want to spend your money.
Sorry about your experiences.
January 11, 2010 4:47 AM
Anonymous said...

Its real shame that kenya will not progress.WHY?you have to know somebody ,who know somebody to get connected to work.They should encourage people from abroad to come back more so that our country could prosper from foreign experience we have gained.I am longing to come back home but my fear is to end up as a housewife and never getting a chance to put my experience and career in use.
They should learn from South Africa,china,India Record shows 40%of south african's always go back home because of jobs availability.
BY the way do kenya travel & hospitality companies realise utalii college is not the only qualification in the country!
January 11, 2010 3:47 PM
Anonymous said...

Kenyan employers are too cheap hiring overqualified people for peanuts. The qualifications they ask for are practically unattainable i.e if you had them all you would just be basically competent in either field and an expert in none. No wonder we are a 3rd world country! In developed countries they hire you for your abilities rather than papers.
February 21, 2010 4:50 PM

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Opening a Post Office Box in Nairobi

2010-02-11T05:17:00.002-05:00

This was incredibly easy. I'm still reeling from how simple and quick the whole process was considering the institution is part of a bureaucracy. And also because I went to one of the smaller Post Offices! Forget GPO (00100) or City Square (00200). I shuddered at one of the employees suggestion of going to the Nyayo Stadium post office to try my luck as the first two are completely full and there's a waiting list the length of the ICC corruption charge sheet.

I remembered on many of my walkabouts to Biashara (Business) Street where you can find any and all kikoy fabric and touristy stuff at normal prices, that there was a new branch at the Jamia Mall which is right next to the very large and active Jamia Mosque. The Jamia Mall is what I would imagine upscale Mogadishu would offer. It's a three story building with a hotel at the top called the Jamiat Hotel. The post office is right next to it in the same building. There are no queues! At all! And the process of opening the account was painless and fast and I've now discovered a place to make my DSTV payments in addition to other utility bills.

The only problem I forsee is its location. A few weeks ago, there was a riot and most of the action took place around there so there are still some missing window panes all over the place. But other than that, a lovely spot and smack dab in the city.

Something nice about Kenya....finally.

Protests in Nairobi over deportation of Jamaican Muslim cleric with terrorist links

2010-01-15T06:47:00.004-05:00

So the fighting is near the mosque in downtown Nairobi.

The story as reported by Capital FM

Kenya unable to deport Jamaican cleric
BY BERNARD MOMANYI

NAIROBI, Kenya, Jan 6 - Controversial Jamaican Muslim cleric Abdullah al-Faisal who was deported from the country on Monday through Tanzania has been returned to Kenya after authorities in the neighbouring country declined to receive him, police sources said.

Police and Immigration officials who had escorted him to Tanzania were unable to get him through to the neighbouring country and had been staying with him at the border until Wednesday morning when they escorted him back to Nairobi.

“He was escorted back to Nairobi and is currently at the Jomo Kenyatta International Airport. We are pondering the next move,” a police source said.

Police Spokesman Erick Kiraithe who had confirmed Al-Failal’s deportation earlier on Tuesday was not immediately available for comment.

He had said “Al-Faisal is no longer in the country because we have deported him to Jamaica through Tanzania.”

A group of Muslim leaders led by Al-Amin Kimathi said they had spent the better part of Wednesday at the JKIA trying to seek audience with the cleric in vain.

“The police are totally violating Al-Faisal’s rights. They have unsuccessfully tried to deport him. All the countries have declined to receive him and now they are keeping him here at the airport,” he said.

“We have information that they are planning to deport him to an unknown country tomorrow morning (Thursday). We don’t understand why they are not allowing us to see him. We went with a lawyer ready to represent him but they have declined us access,” he added.

Al –Faisal was arrested on Thursday last week, shortly after attending prayers at a mosque in Mombasa.

Police and Immigration officials said at the time they arrested him for “violating Immigration regulations.”

He had been accused of engaging in preaching, contrary to immigration procedures which did not allow him to engage in such an activity.

So they vowed to protest today Friday 15th 2010 and they have been going at it for 2 hours now. I hope no one is seriously hurt.

What is Nairobi fashion?

2010-01-15T02:57:00.007-05:00

I think I need to make a trip back to States because clearly, I'm out off kilter with fashion trends. I would never personally admit to being an patron, much less an owner of the shoes below. This beauty sells for $28 (Kshs. 2,100) which can get you 3 pairs of mitumba shoes.

Or what about this beauty called a Gomax Thong Wrap which is also $28? I have seen Masai herding cattle outside Harlequins with much more attractive bladder beauties. Bladder is the slang version of tire tubes.

Okay, fashion is interpretive to individuals but this is hideous! Among others I discovered while browsing for shoes:

which are super stylish!

which retail at about 37 dolla each.

The problem with shoe shopping in Nairobi is that there are no quality shoes. The next time someone asks you in the diaspora or just visiting, for shoes, even from Payless, I beseech you to hear their prayer and tell them to register a wish list. Affordable shoe shopping Nairobi is limited to the choices that bulk purchasers get from Dubai and China to promote in exhibitions. Exhibitions are these tiny 6 x 4 shops that have imported, more often low quality clothing items from the above two countries. Some will also offer counterfeit items but the prices are close to the value of the real item. As I've pointed out before that Nairobi fashion tends to be more a miss than a hit and I'm beginning to think it's because of the styles in these stalls. Open toed and pointy seems to be the sole shoe style available. If you want boots, you have to buy mitumba and I will always have a problem wearing shoes that have been worn by someone else before. Or you could easily folk out the $150 minimum (Kshs. 10,000) that is advertised at many of the stores at Westgate or Junction malls, for gorgeous boots that will most likely scuff easily or be stolen by your angry maid.

I think I'm going to take a trip down South early this year and visit my beloved Nine West and load up on proper office shoes as well as some gorgeous boots for the cold weather to come.

Speaking of cold weather, apparently Kenya is experiencing El Nino again as it has been extremely cold and wet in the city for the past month. Considering our summer is from about the beginning of December to about the middle to end of March, it has been unseasonably cold for a while so it feels like it has been the cold season from June to date.

Hopefully it ends soon.

100th Post!

2010-01-08T01:04:00.002-05:00

Happy New Year to all! I wish I had been at Il Covo in Mombasa on the beach but alas, I was at a party in the suburbs which was infinitely safer than running about the beaches. The club pictured below is mind blowingly fun. Great restaurant, great dance floor and good music too. But don't go two nights in a row because the DJ just plays the same music. Clientele is a great mix of foreigners and locals and there are not too many twilight girls. Maybe there were tons but they must have been well dressed. It's walking distance on the beach from many hotels but watch out for druggie beach boys. Go in a group or as one person in my party who elected to stay behind when we left, run like the wind to your hotel at dawn!

Tis the season to be jolly!

2009-12-15T05:19:00.004-05:00

Christmas time in Nairobi. I gotta tell you, I miss snow with a passion. I prefer traveling upcountry for the holiday because it feels amazing to be out of Nairobi and in a clean air environment where you can relax and enjoy the holiday. And we can get away with chopping down a pine tree to decorate and put in the living room and toss loads of presents underneath and add cotton balls strategically to give the illusion of snow. I will spend roughly 36 hours of manual labor in the kitchen in creating a magnificent turkey feast that will be devoured in roughly 15 minutes. Try replicating that in Mombasa in a minimum of 90 degree heat... Nairobi is bad enough but Mombasa - too hot too feel Christmas.

Nairobi unfortunately feels the same but go to any mall and I feel like I'm bargain hunting in any mall in Ohio. The crowds are the same, the buzz is the same and the props are the same. It is funny to hear a "shrubbing" Santa. "Melly Chlistmas!" yells the skinny Santa with a pot belly near the entrance of a Nakumatt. The bargains....I'm too broke right now to even go window shopping but soon, I'll be roaming Westgate Mall to get everybody's presents. I wonder, what do you get a one year old who is in his terrible two's with the emotional angst of a teenager?

Ten Nairobi pecularities I could do without.

2009-12-08T08:26:00.009-05:00

1. Grown men taking a wee against any immobile upright object in broad daylight, hedges more preferable. I don't know why they can't help it. They'll be walking nice and steady next minute then they start doing that sneaky shuffle toward a bush or wall and whip it out and have a go - traffic or pedestrians be banned. The entire 680 Hotel exterior reeks of urine 24/7, partly because it's opposite Simmers.

2. Matatus packed with livestock. I have a picture on here of a cow being carried in a pickup truck. Well I've seen goats on roofs of buses but my favorite was seeing a matatu with chickens as passengers. There were a lot of hens in that vehicle as it hurtled down Uhuru Highway toward some waiting slaughterhouse. They were perched on all the seats, facing any and all directions, completely oblivious to their fate - much like human passengers in any decrepit matatu that is used daily.

3. Staring. Kenyans love to stare and they will not hide their curiosity. Been hit by a bus? They'll stare at you as you lie writhing in agony. Just been mugged? They'll tsk and shake their heads while watching you wail and plead for assistance. Are you white? You'll get stared at regardless of what you're doing.

4. Deodorant is a foreign concept not embraced by all. Summer is here bringing on the heat and the BO with a fierce vengance. Just this morning, I had to open the window on the matatu to gulp mouthfuls of exhaust from the surrounding traffic because the conductor kept raising his arms and emitting a life sucking odor. I envy those nations where surgical mask wearing is so commonplace because I would have a mask over my nose for every minute I have to walk these streets. It's not uncommon to read about some boda boda operator or mechanic being forcibly dragged into a river by his colleagues and forced to take a bath with industrial strength soap followed by a shave because the stink of his body is so overpowering.

5. Check out my pedicure! Kenyan women love their toes and will have stunning pedicures to display them toes and the most lovely colors to cap the nails on said toes. Even for many who have no nail on the last toe, some color will be added to even out the landscape. Now, there is immense popularity for the fairly flimsy flip-flop high heel sandals because these display the pedicure perfectly and that perfect foot must always be seen. Indeed if you go to most shoe shops, the largest selection is dedicated to open-toe shoes for women. Nairobi gals love these shoes so much that they wear them every day and night. The higher, more uncomfortable and smaller the shoe - the better to show off that pedi. Unfortunately, they are worn in many an inappropriate setting like job interviews (big NO NO!), golf courses and most sporting events.But the daily wearers are my favorite. It could have been raining for two days straight over the weekend and when you come into town on Monday when it's drizzling, miserable, muddy and you have to navigate the flooded sewers, you'll find a little princess hopping around in her sandals trying to make it to work. Her feet will be covered in mud and dripping with filthy water but don't worry, she can always wash them in the bathroom sink at the office, right next to you as you wash your hands.

6. News at Seven. Ok, I admit I've gotten used to this one. It doesn't matter what you were watching in the pub when in this city because at 7 on the dot (6.45 if it can be helped), that channel is on KTN. I'm not sure why it's more popular over NTV but it's the chosen one. Most patrons including some passing pedestrians will slot in to find spot even if it's right next to you or over you or on you to watch the news for the day. Was quite annoying for me during my first year back and I would purposely take a book out and start reading or whip out my phone and carry on a conversation. Then I realized the third or fourth news story was quite juicy. e.g. this Tuesday (10th December), a Dutch tourist was arrested for the murder of his girlfriend and his own attempted suicide by stabbing when the cops showed up to arrest him. KTN was there first in the hospital filming the suspect lying on a gurney in pure agony and covered with a blood stained sheet. I mean the camera was right up in his face as he winced and groaned while rolling around. This had the ability of stopping anyone mid sip and start taking a keen interest in the news.

7. Handout Nation. 'nuff said.

8. "To crose this account, you need to crear the barance then we can plocess the funds you have lequested." or "Tis bassbot must pe renewed pefore we can brocess the tocuments you want." or "Ow ndo you hexpenct us to wank on thees refund so quinckly?" are just a few of the local dialects influence on the English language that I have dealt with on an official capacity. This is a city of many languages, the predominant one being Somali but they have yet to obtain jobs in the public sector. The minority locals have done very well and are working in such prestigious offices and however wonderful and professional they are, the tongue is quite heavy on the mother's side.

9. Dining out. Restaurants get creative and will offer you the Moroccan chicken burger (not sure what's North African about it), Bountiful mushrooms on a bouquet of broccoli, green island salad (basic lettuce and strips of cucumber). I actually like the places that just say "boiled beef" or "boiled goat" or "boiled chicken" with "ugali and sukuma". I wish they would keep it simple. Many restaurants (Trattoria, a four star included) have such vast expansive menus that it will take you 20 minutes to decipher the calligraphy, 15 minutes to question the waiter, 10 minutes to ascertain that half the things you would have liked are not on the menu, 10 more minutes to order, 30 minutes for the waiter to come back and tell you that your order is actually out of stock, 15 minutes of furious arguing and much snorting before you place your order, 45 minutes for the appetizer to arrive, 2 minutes for your main course to arrive, 3 minutes for your bill to arrive, 15 minutes for your first drink order to finally make it to the table.

10. Concept of Space. Remember when you were kids and you're in assembly and you're lined up crotch to ass in a queue with other kids and have to stay this way throughout "Morning Has Broken", the Pledge of Loyalty, the National Anthem, the Headmistresses dressing down and more often some kid puking in line either right in front or behind you? Yeah, that concept stuck with many Kenyan adults and will be passed on to another generation. Try paying your electric bill on the day it is due. You will suffer the masses in a queue where the old woman behind you will do everything humanly possible to get in front of the five people ahead of you if it means clinging to your back. Worse, go to the bank and try and do a transaction while hearing the guy behind you salala! when you whisper how much money you want to withdraw. Space is clearly a time waster in Nairobi so spare yourself the pain and register for Mpesa.

South Coast Beach Boys need to be put on boats and sailed into Somali waters because....

2009-10-29T10:58:00.002-04:00

1. No I'm not interested in promoting you and your drug habit.
2. I don't have to acknowledge your existence when you're screaming "jambo jambo sista!" across the beach.
3. I got family too who have more pressing needs than you selling me a keychain on Chinese wood to promote yours.
4. I do not intend to add a four day Masai Mara trip to a two day beach holiday.
5. No, I will not look for the girl in the brown bikini and tell her that you're waiting for her.
6. None of your business in who's in my party and what are our immediate plans.
7. I will swim when I damn well want to in the ocean, not when the tide is low enough for you to drag your lazy drugged out ass.
8. Just because you couldn't get a sale from me on the beach means I'll be easier when I leave the compound to buy credit.
9. Those freaking dreadlocks - WTF? Was there a memo saying all beach boys must have them?
10. Stay on the North coast - more bait for you there.

Cannot stand beach boys, they are the roaches of the tourism industry. As soon as you squash one, 10 more appear. Fucking shits.

Enough venting from tranquil holiday location, somewhere on the south.

Life so far....

2009-07-21T07:57:00.005-04:00

Whenever I look at the picture below, it's instant calm. I'm thinking of a great book I am reading, the ice cold Tusker by my side and how relaxed I am. The office is miles away, there's no worry in the world. If it gets too hot, that's fine, I'll just go jump in the water, frolick for a bit, come out and lie flat on my back, eyes closed soaking in the sun. Deep breath in....hold....and out!

Then I open my eyes and I'm reminded of where I am:

Just sigh.

Food stuff.

2009-07-06T05:45:00.003-04:00

Had some lovely meals when I was on holiday last month. Below is an avocado chicken wrap.

My friend ordered the prawns tempura with broccoli. Very very nice. Was even better with the sound of crashing waves in the background. There was also a tusker next to it.

Tom Cholmondeley sentenced to eight months.

2009-05-14T05:58:00.001-04:00

Kenya court jails Delamere kin for eight months

Tom Cholmondeley, Delamere's kin, listens as High Court Judge Muga Apondi delivers his verdict in this file picture. The Judge sentenced him to eight moths imprisonment. Photo/ PAUL WAWERU

By NATION ReporterPosted Thursday, May 14 2009 at 11:56
In Summary

Director of Public Prosecution Keriako Tobiko acknowledges Mr Cholmondeley was a first offender.

Judge Apondi had initially reduced Cholmondeley’s murder charge and convicted him for manslaughter.

Lord Delamere's heir Tom Cholmondeley has been sentenced to eight months imprisonment for killing stonemason Robert Njoya.

High Court Judge Muga Apondi handed down the light sentence on Thursday, two days after hearing final submissions from both the prosecution and defence.

"In view of the total circumstances of the case and the guiding principles to sentencing, I hereby wish to impose a light sentence on the accused to allow him reflect on his life and change to an appropriate direction," said Judge Apondi.

"The upshot is that I hereby sentence the accused to 8 months imprisonment."

The judge said the fact that Mr Cholmondeley has " been held in custody for slightly over three years since he was arrested" and had no malice aforethought (intent to kill) prompted him to issue the light sentence.

He said that the prosecution had acknowledged that Mr Cholmondeley made desperate attempts to save the life of Mr Njoya, including calling Kenya Wildlife Service rangers and the police after the fatal shooting. He also offered his car to rush the victim to hospital.

The Director of Public Prosecution Keriako Tobiko also agreed that Mr Cholmondeley was a first offender.

These two mitigating factors were crucial in determining Cholmondeley's prison term, said Judge Apondi.

The judge said Mr Cholmondeley reserves the right to appeal the sentence.

Judge Apondi had initially reduced Cholmondeley’s murder charge and convicted him for manslaughter.

He found that Cholmondeley shot and killed Mr Njoya three years ago, but spared him death by hanging because a murder charge could not be sustained.

A murder conviction carries a mandatory death sentence.

Mr Justice Apondi relied on the evidence of Mr Carl Tundo, who was with Cholmondeley on the fateful day, to rule that the accused shot and killed Mr Njoya.

He found that the accused did not have malice aforethought (intention to kill) when he shot Mr Njoya at his Soysambu ranch on May 10, 2006.

My thoughts?

I'm so glad the man is going to be released. He served his time for protecting his land and continued conservation of protected species. The victim's family appear to have been compensated for their loss. Also, I still have no doubt that the efforts this man will put toward prison program reform in the future will make a larger impact than any other elected bugger in office has ever attempted.

Why must I share air with imbeciles?

2009-05-14T01:17:00.000-04:00

Giraffes at Haller Park in Bamburi. You stand on a platform at their height. Awesome creatures. Would so much rather work with animals than people. Sorry, having an "I work with Idiots Day".

Free Tom Cholmondeley!

2009-05-08T00:29:00.000-04:00

If some bastard Kenyan was on my land trying to steal my animals, I'd shoot the idiot bugger dead. Oh yes, I'd even do it twice and I've no qualms about a shot to the back. YOU WERE STEALING ON MY LAND!

Are they effin kidding me? Lane Garrison killed a kid, drunk and higher than the sky at the time and he served 18 months in prison. Oh yeah, he was given time off for good behavior.

The same Kenyans who are baying for his neck seem to have forgotten that while this man has been in prison, he's made considerable efforts toward prison reform. Remember when the prison warders went out strike because of bad conditions? His family brought in medicine and food for other prisoners. He has had articles featured in the paper addressing the rampant sodomizing rapes that male prisoners face in maximum security and what needs to be done. When there are food shortages, his family's farm has stepped in with supplies.

No, I've never met the man or his family but I will sign whatever petition is out there or help in any way possible. I hope his sentence is reduced and he's out by the end of the year. And let the next guy who's trying to poach on Soysambu that he'll get dead quick.

Kenyaness in photos....

2009-05-04T07:53:00.012-04:00

On the way to the airport, came across this on a highway roundabout:

At Delamare farms in Naivasha, they have a picnic area. I wonder if this is the roast chicken they had on offer?

A typical ferry at Likoni. They crowd the thing and then cry when it stalls in the middle or starts to drift.

Motorcycle shopping in Kisii town. This place is full of them. I wonder how they get them up or down. No elevators.

Chef's special at a certain town near Kisumu City.

Placing your order at the Hood. Awesome nyama choma joint. Favorite choice, dry fry.

On a recent train trip, was told very politely. "I'm sorry, we only have the vegetarian option. Gentle stir fried rice with a pomme and tomato simmered sauce." Potato stew in yellow rice. Was surprisingly delicious!

A certain someone's awesome birthday cake.

2009-05-04T07:42:00.002-04:00

Had an incredibly lovely evening. Thanks girl!

Safari Seven Fashion victims.

2009-04-30T02:48:00.009-04:00

Tusker Safari Sevens 2008. Wet on Saturday though but brilliant rugby.

Ok, Safari Sevens is starting in June but they haven't posted the dates anywhere! Can someone please tell me when? I need to budget for this stuff now! My favorite thing to do was Fashion Police and wow, there were some serious "Don't" fashion victims out there. Keep in mind that it is bloody cold, temperature is in the single digits (celsius, not farenheit, which is still bloody cold).

I loved the shoe and dress choices also.

And the ground was soggy ass wet the whole day. But she was determined that her perfect manicure and those mitumba shoes had to be on display, come rain or high water. Ok, i'm being mean but it's fun watching the under 18s come out and try to be over 21 in 7 degree weather.

The following sunday, I opted to watch from the corporate tents. Much more relaxed and awesome way to end the tournament. It's more fun to watch from rugby with the watu's on Saturday as they are more rowdy and raunchy with the abuse. Sunday has turned into a family day of sorts. Loads of errant husbands showed up with toddlers in tow while mum was nowhere to be seen. Most likely paying for the sins of the previous night. Plus, you're much closer to the players and they always end up at the Virgin tent which was a very happening place.

Looking forward to this years. Go Kenya!

HEINEKEN SPONSORED RUGBY, HELL NO, I WON’T GO!

2009-04-14T03:29:00.000-04:00

So there was a rugby tournament this weekend, the semi-finals between Rhino (Kenya) and Ruwenzori (Uganda). It was being sponsored by Lafarge Bamburi Kenya. The game was extremely enjoyable, made even more worthwhile because of the heckling and roasting that was going on around us. Oh I laughed so hard and followed an extremely exciting game. However Heineken, the sponsor, ruined everything for me. I’m used to having my usual Tusker “baridi” whenever I’m watching rugby, especially at Sevens. I didn’t take much notice of the confiscated bags hanging outside the entrance that were full of Tusker cans. When we got in, we ignored the Heineken tents set up at the entrance and went into the clubhouse which was undergoing renovation. They were installing the furniture and it looks like F1 (Madhouse, not Formula One). The only difference being there’s light coming through. Unfortunately due to the construction work going on, the bar was closed. So back to the Heineken tent where, crossed fingers, we might find cold Heineken bottles. But no, we were handed tap-cold cans that warmed instantly in the afternoon tropical sun. Basically, the beer is shite. And Heineken in Kenya in a can tastes worse than Milwaukee’s Best Light that’s been left in somebody’s trunk for three days and found when unloading a spare. (Yes, I have this experience).

I went back to the tent periodically to make sure that there was nothing else on offer in terms of beer. They had tons of hard alcohol which I wasn’t going to touch in that heat. And I honestly just wanted my cold tusker. So each time I paid the exorbitant price of $1.60 for a 330ml tin of boiling piss, I told the guy selling, “Honestly, don’t come back here again with this shit….ever!”

I left rugby for the first time in my life immediately after the final whistle (Rhinos won). The finals are this weekend but you have to pay me to go there. I’d rather go to my local and watch it on telly while having my tusker.

Reunited.

2009-01-17T07:22:00.004-05:00

My birthday treat from two really good friends, F and W who took me out first thing in the morning. Had a great birthday, would have been fab with the twin. But she did come back and I did a holiday with her and it was awesome! Hopefully she'll be in town next week and we can do a holiday again. Oh that would rock! More later, having fun with the pics.

Why DSTV sucks.

2008-09-23T03:57:00.003-04:00

DSTV is the main satellite telly service provider (done by Multichoice) in Kenya, in fact Africa as a whole. They have different packages for different budgets. I started out with the Premium Bouquet which has just about 6 movie channels, a lot of filler channels (Hallmark, E, Style, Food Network, BBC sideshow programming), an incredibly extensive sports coverage network, documentary channels like National Geographic and Discovery and the major news networks such as BBC, CNN and Al Jazeera. They also offer roughly 30 more foreign language channels which are extra ofcourse. All this for Kshs. 5,000.00 ($ 71.50) per month. Then for the budget conscious, there as a more affordable bouqet which only has one movie channel, some of the fillers, two documentary channels, three news channels and that's roughly Kshs. 1,700.00 ($24.30). Then there are some super family friendly channels which are not worth mentioning as they are religous and kids show oriented. Much cheaper obviously. Remember, most Kenyans live on $1 a day so this is obviously not a service targeted at the ordinary person.

Now Multichoice Kenya once had a focus group put together at the Norfolk over lunch, and they chose a selective few subscribers to give input on their services. I know for a fact that they invited (and probably rightfully so) the subscribers only and not viewers in their homes. They didn't realize that the subscriber probably works 15 hour days and doesn't have time to watch tv except for the news here and there. The true viewers are actually the maid and the kids on holiday (or those skipping school) who would have been better equipped to advice them on their programming.

I recently switched from the Premium to Compact for financial reasons. I can no longer justify spending that much money on such poor programming offers and here are a few examples why.

1. They repeat everything. And I mean everything for a two month cycle, it seems. I don't bother watching the Series Channel on Friday evening because all that will come on Saturday morning and Saturday evening will be re-run to death on Sunday. Same for the Food Network channels. I actually don't mind this as much but to watch but there are 10 episodes of New Scandanavia Cooking that came on for three months and I'm grateful on the knowlege I've gained concerning flash fried Norwegian Salmon. Same goes for ALL the documentary channels. In fact, the only guaranteed new content you'll see is on the news networks.

2. Movie choices are refreshed on Saturday and Sunday nights. The blockbuster movies are on while you're at work, slaving away to pay the bill and on the weekends and evening, they rerun Saturday and Sunday night choices with mainly family friendly numbers. They are also a year behind on new releases that have been on dvd for that period. Besides, if you prefer surfing the channel, cheaper to rent the dvd's where you'll be forced to focus instead of switching.

3. PVR - Their Tivo: Bloody expensive and pointless. All the shows will be re-run for a month anyway.

4. They had a monopoly on sports for a while but subsequently lost 80% of the Barclays Premier League to rival GTV, so forget football season. The one thing they do have that I'm grateful for is Formula One and rugby. You can get UEFA games on the local channels so no need to go for the premium sports package.

5. DSTV is different from DSTV Africa. The latter appears to be limited in choice. There's a channel called Sony Entertainment that they frequently advertise on most channels but that is not available outside of SA and it has most of the shows I'd love to watch like Amazing Race but it's not part of the Kenya programming. e.g. SA gets Supersport 3 (main football channel) and Supersport 4, Kenya gets the updates channel and a select sports channel which shows mainly SA soccer league. (YAWN) Oh yeah VH1!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! cheap bastards.

Above all I believe that SA pays the same as Kenyans for more channels while we're stuck with what they chose to show us. I've been accepting nothing less for sometime now have gone back to buying my pirated movies and the sports bars are happy to welcome me back as a paying customer to watch soccer on GTV.

P.S. I'm still a DSTV subscriber on a compact level. Only because of National Geographic, ESPN, CNN & Series channel. Picture up top was taken at Haller Park, Bamburi in Mombasa. Gorgeous ponds all over the place.

KPLC: Kenya Pricks & Lunatic Cons

2008-09-12T02:37:00.003-04:00

I mean WTF! I got my electricity bill yesterday and my legs gave out under me. My bill has gone up by 150%. I contemplated prostitution that evening because there's no way I can afford this shit. I have a friend who's gone to contest his 1,000% bill increase at the power company and the line for complaints stretches outside while the cashiers sit idle. Kenyans by nature are incredibly patient and will put up with a lot until pushed. e.g., the election riots. But I'm ready for someone to start a fracas at their offices and I'll be right there cheering you on. You can't really yell at this people when you go complain because government workers being as petty and vicious as they are, will probably disconnect you. So I'm ready to don a bandana, and go kick up a fuss if everyone else does.

All of Kenya is going through economic hardships like nothing they've experienced before and it's getting worse. Before, I could go to the grocery store with $15 (Kshs. 1,000) and come out with loads of stuff. Now, I come out of the store with a handbag sized bag. Vegetables are bloody expensive, meat has gone up and the stock market is plunging daily. Urghh, I forgot, I bought shares a month ago!

The picture above is from my holiday at Voyager - looking at it calms me down.

Living in Kenya...

2008-08-20T06:30:00.003-04:00

is damn expensive at the moment! I mean shit! The price of just about everything has become astronomical and it seems to have happened in the span of two months. My grocery bill is severely budgeted as it is and nothing is ever thrown out unless it has been drained upside down, squeezed to an inch of its life and scooped from the jar with precision for two weeks. Oh yeah, my salary stayed the same while my rent went up 10%. My electricity bill was the lovely shocker. I'm now paying more for a fuel levy than my actual consumption. My water bill did make me a little bit less miserable as I have a small credit, until I read the paper and saw that the company wants to increase their fees to 50%.

All in all, things are quite thick at the moment but we're trucking on. I know my one big expense I will need to rethink is my satellite telly. Yes, I'm an idiot for still hanging on to a luxury while facing starvation but I needed it to keep me home. See, with the Olympics, I tend to go home early and watch the day's events and on the weekends, I have tons of sports to watch and catch up on and most importantly Survivor Micronesia. Yes, I know I'm behind like 67 seasons but I love love love Jeff with an unhealthy longing. But my latest addiction is a documentary series called Long Way Down on National Geographic about a cross continent road show by Charley Boorman and his good friend Ewan McGregor. It's absolutely fascinating and quite touching journey as they make their way through Africa to Cape Town on gorgeous bikes, the little towns they visit on the way, the humble yet cheerful people they meet, the bureaucrats they struggle with and the bumps and bruises they encounter all in the name of idle Scotsmen with good hearts having a great time. I lament that I discovered this show a little bit late but I'm glad I found it before they reached Kenya. I love seeing this country through other people's eyes because living and working in Nairobi jades me sometimes.

On the boys' trip to Marsabit, they were treated to a goat roast in the middle of nowhere. It was their first time seeing the meat not coming out a shrink wrapped Styrofoam tray but from an alive and kicking animal. They witnessed the slaughter, skinning and cleaning before the meat was grilled to perfection. Now I drooled while I was watching them chow down because budgetary constraints have made me drop meat off my menu for a couple of days. I've been craving Masai meat which is a distinctly exquisite flavorful meat. Why? Because it's the "pointy" sheep/goat breed blend. Yes, they do mix them up once in a while and these animals provide the most amazing barbecue item. The best place I've had this dish is at Kitale Club about 450km North West of Nairobi closer to the Uganda Border. I'm a member of the golf club that is being run down by aging relics of club officials but is a wonderful museum piece if they get off the bar stool and hand it over t0 a youthful entrepreneurial group who can restore it's glory.

I digress - as usual. Masai meat is basically grilled or pan fried. I prefer the latter as it is sauteed in onions and you can throw in dhania (coriander leaves) at the last minute and serve with ugali (chapati for me) and sukuma wiki (kale) or spinach and tons of kachumbari (onion/tomato salsa). I detest my local butcher because they meat always has a funky taste so I bought supermarket beef as Masai meat is hard to get within the city. I was craving this dish so I made it last night with all of the above trimmings, girl-in-Nairobi style. First 1/2lb of beef cubes which I cut even smaller, clean and sea salted with ground black pepper. Toss in two onions, sliced into rings in a saucepan with about 2tbsp extra virgin olive oil (healthy living!), saute for about two minutes, add the meat and cook on low heat for additional 10 - 20 minutes depending on how the level of doneness wanted. When most of the natural juice has reduced, toss the meat into a sillet with one onion sliced into rings, cover and stir every 2 minutes. Add dhania for about one minute, cover then stir until sizzling. Serve with cool and spicy kachumbari, warm and toasty chapatis and...wow, I'm drooling and it's 10 a.m.

bon appetit

P.S. Charley and Ewan had condiments. Mayo and yellow mustard............why?

Currencies in Kenya

2008-04-16T07:24:00.002-04:00

The shilling is doing really well at the moment - sucks if you have any other currency. Indicative rates at the moment are super depressing. I calculated a roundtrip ticket to London this summer and was shocked at the fact that I could actually afford it. (Ofcourse I'd have to forego rent, water and food every other day.) But if I wanted to, I could survive!

As of Tuesday exchange rates are

$1 Kshs. 61.67
£1 Kshs. 121.67 (down yesterday from 126!!!!)
€1 Kshs. 97.4973 (only one seemingly steady)
1Rand Kshs. 7.86 (cheap cheap cheap!)

And the low season is starting in Kenya but I'm guessing the prices will remain mid-high season to get back what was lost because of the Election Stealing Catastrophe. More later.

Chaos City

2008-01-29T03:23:00.000-05:00

As I type, there are marching youth down Ngong Avenue and Mbagathi Way has been closed. All are upset because of the murder of the Embakasi MP early this morning. Ofcourse, that's the excuse these marauding maniacs are using while looting, random violence and acts of lunacy are carried out.

I hope I leave early today but I doubt that will occur. There are some interesting arguments around the office though, most uneducated but some make sense. The reality is that this country is in deep shit and the powers that be, in their silence are fostering a volatile environment in which rumors are rampant and clarity is scarce.

Of what I know, the mushroom project were working on is abandoned in Timboroa as the incredibly diverse community that formed it have now abandoned their homes and sought refuge elsewhere. 2/3 of the main centre has been burnt down and people are sleeping on top of each other at the police station. This is just one section of the country. Others are far worse and more and more people are dying every day.

I'm saddened and disappointed. I came back to Kenya not sure what was in store but I was assured that it was quite progressive and peaceful and was a functioning democracy. All that has been built is being destroyed on a shocking level. Kenya had always been a success story in the midst of other chaotic African nations and had done well economically.

Yeah, forget about all that. It's become basic tribalism now. It wasn't before but the unresolved issue of the electoral process has certainly brought out the worst in people. I'm trying to say as impartial as possible but man it's hard! People are downright stupid......yes, they are. And they go on rumors and accusations but while everyone keeps fighting, I'mma stay under the radar and figure out how to protect my ass.

This land is not my land....for now.

2008-01-12T04:02:00.000-05:00

Urghh! One whole bloody year since I last posted! Soo much has happened but the biggest thing is the fact that this country has gone to shit. I don't want to talk about that thief and his cohorts who are in office as they are not worth my time. I voted for the first time in my life. Stood in line for three hours, chatting with my neighbors, reading a book. I got to that booth, decided there's no way I could stand to see that mad woman called Lucy Wambui stay at State House for five more years. I also voted against that thug called Gumo who stole 20K from me as well as the stupid woman who was slapped in public by him and didn't do a damn thing about it. As for the councillor, I honestly picked the guy who's poster was on the wall by school entrance where we voted.

On Thursday night, I was working late and as I left the office, I passed the Hilton Hotel. What struck me as the oddest thing was that out of the entire 16 storey building, only two rooms were lit at 9 that evening. Two!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The tourism industry is all but finished. Some hotels have lowered their rates and are advertising in the classified section!!!!!!!!! Well, I intend to take advantage of those bargains as much as I can. I have to support the industry because it's going to take a while for foreigners to come back.

Ok, back to work. It's Saturday and we're working because the protests start on Wednesday. More later, I promise!

Inexcusable!

2006-12-12T05:10:00.000-05:00

Horrid blogger I've become. I've been so mad crazy busy lately and had a bit of drama in the past quarter that has stalled my blogging. What's happened so far?

Well, I have a new apartment. I had to move out of the previousl shithole because of a certain asswipe politician named Fred Gumo, an MP for Westlands. The link is a short article on his typical behavior but to address "Mr Gumo's low temperament and disdainful character" is a polite way of describing a buffoon. I moved into the shithole in May, paid one month's deposit and continued paying rent to a company called Real Ventures which is in turn owned by a brother to Kamlesh Pattni, an incredible mess of a human being. As I would find out rather brutally later, the property in question had been part of a legal tussle between the two gorillas and we, the tenants were caught up in it. Gumo showed up one Sunday morning (drunk from the night before) and said he was the new landlord and all payments should be made to him. This being the middle of the month, all the tenants were dumbfounded and tried to tell him that legal matters like this should be put in writing and that in fact Real should have notified us of the change of management. Apparently you don't argue with Ngumu kama Gumo (Hard Like Gumo) because he would not hear of it. So we called Real, they said the property was indeed being disputed and that we shouldn't make any payments. In one week, we witnessed a literal changing of the security guards four times. First, there were Armed Cops...nothing like saying hello to the guy at the gate who has a lazily dangled AK47 across his lap pointing at you. Then the following day, it's a security company with harmless guys who don't even remember you when you come home, ensuring a grilling about your identity....urgh!

Rather wisely, I gave notice with my October rent payment. The idea was that I would live out November on my one month's deposit. All well and dandy until it started raining from the 1st of November daily until the end of the month. Now, I had a whole other level above my block and YET it still leaked, and quite badly. I had buckets in my bedroom to follow a dripping line of leaking drops. Then the boiler closet began to shower such that hot showers were out of the question. If I was desperate, I would don rubber gloves, wear two pairs of rubber flipflops and take the broom handle to switch it on and off. The agent I dealt with at Real at the time was co-operative except for the Indian woman who's running things there. Lady, I hope you get to read this blog sometime (but I doubt your literacy levels) because your customer service skills are lacking. Anyway, I found out things were getting thick. Gumo would show up when most people were at work, leave no written declarations of change of management, contact address etc. and belligerently stake his claim on the property all the while threatening the tenants.

Well, I ended up finding a gorgeous tiny flat and spent an incredible amount of money in the span of two days to secure it. I was supposed to move out of my current flat on 1st December but a week prior, just when I got home from work, Gumo had his thugs (unemployed Kenyan men with big rungus) show up and kick out the Real Security team from the property. He then came later that evening, drunk as a skunk (I got high standing near the man...at 7 p.m.) and proceeded to berate, abuse and threaten the tenants for non-payment for the past 3 months. I broached, very politely (uncharacteristic of me) the fact that we had not received any written communication from him and no office or phone was stated as to where payments were to be made. "You know who I am! You can find me young lady!" he slurred on while lurching in the general direction of my voice. I stayed quiet the rest of the time as there were just five of us out of eleven tenants present and twenty plus idle armed youth surrounding him. The man was not to be disuaded. We argued that we had no legal notification and that we were in fact pawns in this whole debacle but he would hear none of it. "I don't care! I want my money!" he rallied, spurred by the gruntings of the ignorant thugs behind him.

Two days before I moved out, I got a knock on my door and there was Gumo's thug er P.A, a shifty looking character by the name of Obed stating that I was to move out the following day or pay rent for December. I did all sorts of pleading stating that I was moving out in two days, well before the deadline and my new place wasn't ready yet but nooooooooooo. No such thing and on top of that, they wanted the rent for November if I was indeed moving out. Remember that I was living out my month's deposit thru Real, Gumo wanted his cut and it was not a small chunk of change considering what I had already spent on the new place. I lawyered up and my wonderful Nairobi attorney spent two minutes with Grossbed and said, "Move out, these guys are thugs." So the next day, had B1 show up, packed up my stuff and paid the constituents of Westlands an obscene amount of money not to be a part of a corrupt and disugsting Neanderthal's side deals (which are done through his public office.) Seriously, the receipt I received states that his private office is run through his public office.

Now, for the good hearted tourist, donor, potential ex-pat to this country that wants to know whether corruption is an issue - it is. From top down. Apparently Gumo is so high up and belligerently combative that few put up a fight to his shennanigans. I tried and I paid, literally and emotionally. DO NOT DEAL with this man if you want to stay sane. As for Pattni, google Goldenberg before you go any further.

Yet another lesson in the unpleasantness that is a sad but increasingly majority of Kenya and its politics.

Bitter, no more. Have cute apartment, no politicians around and good clean landlord. Alas, no room for dog, but not to worry.

Life so far

2006-08-23T04:46:00.000-04:00

Soooo, I need a holiday...again and quite badly. The twin has REFUSED to send pictures of our time together so I fear I'm going to have to repeat the whole sandy beach thing on my own. Quick congratulations once again to Fleur and Denis and Tally and Ben - the former on their upcoming nuptials which I shall sadly miss and the latter on their wonderful wedding which I sadly reminsced about on photos only.

Why is everyone getting married? Ok, you guys were meant for each other but I've found the whole institution to be very interesting in Kenya. Most of my mates are guys, and they tend to be younger than me, already in relationships (most of them long distance) and always up for a pint after work. The women my age that I mostly interact with on a professional basis tend to be married, have kids and are the first ones out of the office when the clock strikes 5. If they do stay to mingle after work, it is usually over a coffee (a substance meant to be consumed before 10 a.m. ONLY and in it's finest caffienated form "espresso" after a four course dinner) and a very dry piece of Black Forrest cake (most places don't use kirsch syrup for the layers). I know many would laugh picturing me sitting down for a cuppa after work on Friday. I did have a lovely weekend with a close family female friend and we agreed that we needed to go out more frequently. She is married and has a child and we're very similar personality wise but time constraints due to familial obligations hampers frequent get togethers. The guys? They're lose. We could plan at a moment's notice a camping expedition or a fun night out.

And then there are the married men. Oh this lot is scandalous in their pursuit of the available woman and they are ruthless! Needless to say, that's why I prefer hanging out with the boys because if I couldn't see that game from far, they would have sniffed it before it even came through the door.

Urghh, sorry this is short, have to fight with my late chinese delivery order.

My Apartment

2006-06-30T05:14:00.000-04:00

…is a shit hole. When I first moved in, I was completely stoked at the independence but then the cleaning part without all the millions of household bleaches, detergents etc. that were mysteriously there in my previous apartment, has been difficult. First of all, the bastards painted the wall with primer only. So I’ve argued constantly and they’ve promised to send someone to come repaint it with at least two coats. This week, I’ve had to endure a typical Nairobi phenomenon. I have no water. Had none since Sunday actually and my caretaker has been a complete useless git. So I had to go over to my dad’s this week to wash clothes and take a serious shower and then when I got home, had to get the askaris to fetch two buckets of water so that I can have water in the house. I’ve been having cold showers and wow, those do actually warm you up better than hot ones. Urghh, Diani! You are sooo needed. At least there’s an ocean and cold water showers are welcome because of the heat.

So a lizard died in front of my bedroom door about three weeks ago and I’ve just come to terms with its traumatic death – traumatic for me! Screw the bugger. Eek! Thing is, I work late most nights and it took me about a month to buy a fridge and a stove ( I still haven’t bought the gas can yet!) so essentially, there was no food in my house. Now roaches are a Kenyan staple in most kitchens but I had (still don’t) none because there was absolutely no food. So this poor lizard must have starved to death because there was nothing crawling about. I remember seeing it when I first moved in and I was not squeamish and the thing moved very quickly to hide from me. But not anymore.

WARNING: DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER IF YOU ARE SQUEAMISH! I’m still gagging retelling this story.

So this pale lizard died at some time during the night…why? Because I found the bugger at about 2 in the morning after I’d come home from a fun night and it freaked me out so much because it’s body is really pale and you could see all it’s innards heaving in quite a dramatic death rattle. EEEWWW! So I threw a bag over it, ran into my room, locked the door, stuffed towels under the bathroom and main bedroom door gaps and crawled into bed shuddering. I prayed that it would somehow recover its strength, walk out of my apartment and say, “Dude, get some food in here.” But oh no, the thing was there when I woke up late Saturday and deader than a door nail. So I went to my kitchen, got my cleaning gloves out – put on two pairs and grabbed a trash can, a plastic bag and a newspaper. I decided to pick the thing up by the tail and I did quite gently and then snap! Its tail cut off! EEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! I squealed-shrieked-cried as I hurriedly dumped that bit in and then looked down at it. I was gagging (actually, currently as well) as I looked for the newspaper. I managed to scoop it on the paper and then put in the trash can. I threw away the first set of gloves – even though I never really touched the thing, and then ran out of my apartment with that bag. I came back and scrubbed every inch of my floors with some serious bleach and hot water but I will still not walk barefoot in my own apartment. Sigh. I’m such a girl. And yet, I’m the one who goes camping, doesn’t freak out at snakes, holds millipedes, walks among the hippos, yawns with the lions, coos at the warthogs but a lizard scares me to paralysis.

Oh wait, there is something else. They don’t necessarily terrify me but they are unpredictable squawkers. Chickens. I like them very much. Dead, preferably roasted with some olive oil, fresh fennel, rosemary, garlic and on a bed of potatoes witha side of mash potatoes and mama's homemade gravy. One of my neighbors downstairs got one, very much alive and tied it to the rail of the main stairwell leading up to my floor. I didn’t notice the bird until I got home one night and was confronted by this shitting pissed off bird. I stared at it and it stared at me and angrily clucked its way to the side after I made violent arm gestures, mimicking flight. I dashed up the stairs, cursing for all to hear because I pay way too much rent for that neighborhood to be dealing with someone’s chicken. So I ended up playing chicken with a chicken for about a week. I would come downstairs, making as much noise as possible to warn her of my pending arrival and thus hasten her departure as much as her tether would allow and I would usually find her waiting at the bottom of the stairs. That last step was always covered in shit and I didn’t want to risk jumping over her because I was convinced she would somehow fly up and not to the side and thereby give rise for a very interesting injury. So I would stop halfway and we would size each other up. Her, quiet, beady eyes staring at me intensely, clucking occasionally. Me, sweaty but with a fierce gaze, reciting the ingredients that would best go with her. Then she would turn around lazily and move to the side. Urghh! Well finally one day, I got back to my place and there was nothing but clean stairs and no loose feathers floating around. I then got a waft of fried chicken coming from the neighbor’s window and I smiled and walked leisurely up my stairs. Inhuman you say? Was more inhuman for those people to tie a chicken up in a residential neighborhood and stress the poor thing out for a week before she was stewed.

Needless to say, I’m apartment hunting, but I think I’ll look for a small house now with my own yard so that I can get a dog. While I’m at work, he/she can chase all the lizards out of my apartment and will not engage me in a cock fight every time I come home. Also, the rent is just too much for such a small space…and I don’t have a bathtub! Ok, I’m being petulant now so let me get back to reality and just accept that I can afford a roof over my head (barely) and loads of cleaning supplies.

Holidays, expensive twin and other stuff

2006-06-23T03:08:00.000-04:00

So the parents and the twin came visiting end of May! WOW! It was incredible, amazing and wonderful and I’m truly grateful to their brood whom I know were skeptical about a visit to Africa but I assure you, they had an amazing time and got to do non-tourist things. We did the obligatory visit to the home on the hills and coming back, we came through the Eldama Ravine so they got to see this amazing vista that is part of the Great Rift Valley. There’s a bridge you cross on the way to Kabernet and we stopped right on it to look down. The river, the Kerio, runs from the equator through the valley and at the moment, the water levels were way down and from where we were, it was about 10 storeys through an enormous rock formation. I would truly love to raft that river one day so I’m currently looking for excursions in that part of town. The parents truly loved the experience and I took them to the Masai market where after a little practice, became more efficient bargainers than I ever could. I hate bargaining, especially with cab drivers and bartenders but the discount is worth it. My advice, go with someone who can differentiate the tribes. You can always tell who the Masai women are. They sit patiently on their mats, are terrible when it comes to bargaining (they’ll lower the price by 10 shillings at most on the smaller items) and if you’re not interested, they don’t chase you down and go back to humming or beading whatever work they have near them. The Kikuyu (sorry my friends) will practically leech themselves on you to make a sale and will lower the price by almost 50% after an hour of following you all over the market place so their product is rendered completely useless to begin with. The Kisii, are great soap stone carvers but be careful. They will tell you that it is an original so walk around first, look at other pieces and if they’re replicated then they’re lying. But if you’re fortunate enough to have the carver there and watch him/her work, then buy from them. Unfortunately, if you’re white, you will be very much the center of attention and the prices will be given a 300% markup. But the parents handled themselves very well. I still get stopped at the Hilton and in various gift shops they breezed in and get asked "Wapi mama yako?" (where's your mama?)

I’m back from holiday and I’m completely tired and still grinning from a much needed break away from life in the city. All I’m thinking right now was that exactly four hours ago, I was walking across the softest and whitest sand, staring at an amazing blue sky that met the shimmering green waters of the Indian Ocean under a very hot sun. Know I’m looking at the filthy towers of one of our media houses and a very ugly dirty grey sky with an even dirtier city underneath it and a long day of work. Oh, yeah, and I’m missing breakfast. For the past two weeks I’ve been eating well, amazingly well. I realized that I don’t eat breakfast at all and now that my tummy has gotten used to being fed a healthy diet of eggs, beef bacon, sausages, rich coffee, amazingly delicious fruits and juices.

My wonderful twin and I took the train down which many people were skeptical about but it turned out to be just fine. Always book first class. The food is suspect so we bought sandwiches and beers for dinner instead of paying for dinner and breakfast. Saved us a bunch of money and stomach worries considering how awful the train dining area is. The compartments are standard and fairly clean and for about $30, the price wasn't bad at all. They give you beddings and there’s a waiter who comes around and takes drink orders. The train leaves the station at exactly 7 p.m. and is supposed to arrive at about 8.30. In its hey days, Kenya Railways ran two trains to Mombasa, one at 5.30 which would be an all stops kinda train and the latter one would be the express, making only two stops at Mtito Andei (remember the Ghost and the Darkness?) and in Voi. The twin and I were giggling like idiots when the train jerked off to a start. We have always loved taking the train and for us, to repeat the experience as adults was amazing. We were pretty much stupid for the next five hours, giggling and having Gin and Tonics, an homage to our mother’s fave train drink. We had brought our own sammiches but there was a waiter running around taking orders. Drinks are incredibly cheap on the train, $1 for beers and slightly more for the gin. There are two dinner times, in order to accommodate all the passengers. A waiter comes by playing a xylophone announcing each dinner time, the first at 7.30, the next at 9. At about 8 pm, an attendant came by to make our beds. It’s basically a bed in a bag, with sheets, blankets and pillows. Very clean and there were NO roaches. LOL, we’d been hassled by the brothers and told to look for roaches and rats and to carry a can of insecticide. We had the latter so we sprayed our compartment because of all the moths flying in near the lights. We were pretty knackered because we had both done some serious running around prior to our trip so by about 10pm, we were yawning heavily and slightly buzzed. The compartments come with sinks and running water, but use bottled even to brush your teeth. There are loos on each end of the car, fairly clean but one thing’s for sure. Most men cannot aim straight even when they are not moving so you can imagine what a moving train loo looks like. Take lots of antibacterial wipes and for ladies, the flushable loo wipes are necessary. I opted to sleep on the top cabin, and so I hoisted myself up there and promptly fell asleep. That gentle rocking motion is oh so therapeutic. I didn’t wake up again until about 3, when we’d stopped in Mtito. I sat up to make sure our windows were closed....yes I know that lions don’t come through open train windows at night but I wanted to make sure! Looked over and down to make sure the twin was ok and fell right back asleep again. Woke up about an hour later because the train was moving seriously fast. We were going downhill and it almost felt like we were flying off the tracks. I closed my eyes, said a silent prayer and passed out in the middle of it. Woke up at about 5.30. We’d stopped at a place called Samburu. Beautiful savannah vegetation, and open field everywhere. You could feel the slight humidity but even better, the sun rising in the east, the direction of the ocean and the colors cast over the land...no painting will ever capture that. Cough, cough, oh yeah, we were parallel to the main highway and the trucks were booking it past us belching out fumes.

We woke up later and after a quick brush, climbed back into bed. We took turns looking out the window, trying to recognize scenes from our past. One game our mother used to always play with us was she’d give ten shillings (a lot of money then!) to whomever spotted the first baobab tree. She always knew where the first one grew but we were always off by like 50 miles. Another vivid memory was trying to catch the first scent of salty air but we were both a little stuffed up from hanging our heads outside the window for ages from the previous night. This country is so beautiful that I began to ache just thinking of heading back on Sunday. Sob. As we approached Mombasa, we discovered yet another good reason to have taken the train. There is a section of road in an area called Mariakani, that does disservice to the name road in itself. It’s more of a dirt road with bits of pave all over. It’s even worse than the Naivasha stretch. We were chugging along comfortably at 30mph passing limping cars carrying bruised spines and bums. This useless government has yet to address that road though I think there are no less than 10 fully paid tax free committees that are seeing to it. Lazy fat bastards. Let me not go off on our useless regime at the moment, there has been a lot to rant about, including our connection to Armenia.

We pulled into Mombasa two hours after we were supposed to arrive. Welcome to the coast, where everything slooooooowwwwwssss down, just a tad. Don’t come here with your city haste and rush. Even leaving the station was done in a lazy affair as we strolled out. Our travel agent had arranged for a taxi to pick us up and sure enough, Martin was out there waiting for us. We got into his car (unmarked cab) and we told him we had to stop in town and get a few things first. So he took us around which was nice because we got to see how big the city has become. But it still has a much more laid back feel than Nairobi. We stopped at a street hawkers stall to bargain the heck out of some Gucci and Ray Ban sunglasses (at $3 for two pairs each). We then decided to shop in Diani which is on the southside of the coast, instead of the Mombasa side as the Nakumatt at Likoni is always busy, so we proceeded to the ferry, which you have to take to over the harbor to the other side. When we started to go down toward the ferry ramp, we were pulled over to the side by the police officers standing guard. They leaned in through our open windows and greeted us warmly. They then asked Martin, "Wapi PSV ?" (Public Service Vehicle license). Martin said he didn’t have one. "Wapi license? " Martin again shook his head much to our dismay. We found out later that the drivers on the coast are hassled so much by cops about their licenses that even if they have them, they are reluctant to show them. Hence the unmarked cabs and it is also recommended that you say they are a friend who’s driving you around on errands. We did realize later on that there is a very clear bias as a station wagon loaded with 6! tourists sitting practically on each other was casually waved through. Anyway, Martin got arrested and was marched to a cargo container that was acting as a jail. We were so relaxed and seemingly unfazed such that we just sat there for a bit, called the cab company and told the owner what the problem was. So he sent another driver after about 10 minutes and we switched cabs. Our new cabbie wasn’t as exciting so we said quick hellos and then got on the ferry. (Oh, Martin got out of jail later that evening and all was well.) Depending on traffic and time of day, there are three ferries going to and fro the island to the other side. We had to wait about 15 minutes for the next one. That ferry fills up quickly. There are quite a lot of pedestrians who’ll cross and catch the matatus on either side so the foot traffic is large but very well organized. In previous years vehicles and people alike rushed to get a spot, but now they load the cars up first and then the pedestrians and bikes get on afterwards. Once inside, the twin and I decided to go up to the top level to check out the view. Very, very nice and I recommend it to anyone taking the ferry. The harbor is obviously quite deep and we were told that dolphins and sometimes sharks will follow the huge tankers that keep the Mombasa harbor in business. All we saw were squid though, loads of them. Is it called a school? Not sure. Anyway, gorgeous view and for the first time, I could smell the salt. It was amazing. The trip itself took about 15 minutes to cross and we passed the other two ferries going to the other side.

I won’t bore you with the details of the 30 minute drive toward Diani but I will tell you times have changed. All our family holidays were spent in this part of the world for about 10 years and I remember lush vegetation, palm tree plantations, a few mud huts here and there, the occasional kiosk or vegetable stand but nothing like what has happened now. There has been so much expansion and construction on this once, very sleepy stretch that it has become impossible to recognize and is quite distressing. I only hoped that the beaches had not seen this Miami-esque scale of development as that would have ruined the whole trip for us. When we got to Ukunda (the largest town in that area - quite small actually but a central post of sorts) we took a left turn on a 2 mile road to Diani. When you get to the end, you either go left or right and judging by the billboards ads, one is completely spoiled for choice. There’s a new Shaanti Holistic place that advertises yoga and a whole plethora of meditative therapy...but no champagne? No alcohol of sorts. Yeah, like I’m going to spend a bunch load of money on a weekend at the beach and not have a margarita to show for it.

LOL, sorry, as I write this, my neighbors downstairs are screaming at their six year old son who has locked himself in the car and is trying to start it. The kid has some issues because he cries ALL the time. The past two Saturdays - the only two I’ve spent at my place, the kid has woken me up consistently at 7 a.m. wailing for one reason or another. I’m watching them try to coax "Dan" out but he’s having none of it. They’ve tried to bribe him with a belt, a solid beating and now they’ve resorted to promises of buying him with a phone, milk and ice-cream. LOL. Oh damn, he’s started the car, I just hope he doesn’t find the brakes. Oh, the door is open, there is silence and he’s out...and there’s that screaming. Wow, he’s getting thumped properly. Poor kid. Still getting smacked, still screaming. Sigh.

Anyway, we were staying at the Leisure Lodge Resort which is about 2 km to the left of the turn-off. It is an amazingly large resort hotel which boasts the only 18 hole golf course in all of the south coast. We took a brief trip there (to see if they were showing the England game) and I got a glimpse of the 18th and it really is quite an impressive and impeccably kept course. The resort itself is quite massive but cleverly hidden from the main road and the beach front view shows the resort has tried as much as possible to blend in with the surrounding vegetation and looks like it has always been there. When we arrived, I was disappointed not to receive the ice-cold mint towels that the Whitesands in the North Coast offers. (It’s the little things people, the little things!) Instead, we got a super sweet fruity beverage and an extremely slow check in service. I won’t blame them seeing as it was low season and they staff that way, but to have one person receiving guests and answering phone calls is just bad. The twin and I weren’t too perturbed about that, her especially as she was getting her first glimpse and scent of the true essence that is the South Coast of Mombasa. When you come through this massive reception, you immediately see the reef in the distance with waves crashing upon it and then right in front of that is the deliciously salty Indian Ocean lapping gently in the low tide. We were given an upgrade, after I gave the poor lass this long drawn out story about our history with the region and how our true childhood was spent here, blah, blah, blah. A porter came over and led us to our room. Now, most if not all beach hotels section off their rooms so you’ll find something like mini apartment complexes sharing a pool and most have a sea view. They always leave the doors open for available rooms on check-in days so when you come in, a gentle sea breeze overwhelms you and your room just looks delectable. Give it a couple of hours and then you start to see the minor flaws you overlooked while you tipped the guy your country’s GDP out of the sheer joy that swept over you when he brought you in to this oasis. I shudder to think what our upgrade was from because the room was fairly standard. Large king size bed, a twin beside it if you’re bringing kids. Telly, except they were having a dispute with DSTV (South African Cable monopoly bastards) so there was no satellite at the time. We had to settle for Deutsche TV, an Indian channel and blessedly some CNN and BBC.

We immediately changed into beach gear and practically fled down to the beach giggling like idiots. Oh that soft, white sand that is so much better than the grainy cement of northern Atlantic beaches or the brown dirt of some of the Pacific. We dropped our stuff off on a couple of the hotel deck chairs and ran into the still outgoing surf. BRRRR! At first but then we got comfortable and it was amazing. We were deliriously happy and didn’t care that the sky was grey and the water was not particularly welcoming. Bless the twin for buying the $4 Target swim shoes because I did not want to feel any grainy beach at all. The water was lovely though and just perfect. You get this heady intoxicated feeling when you’re in the Indian Ocean and it’s exciting, calming and incredibly therapeutic. We didn’t stay long as we were starving so we went up to the main open dining area by one of the pools to go get a bite to eat. Service was super slow but seeing as it was the low season, there were fewer staff so you just had to forget your city habits and just settle down and relax. Yummy burgers with ice cold diet cokes followed and the sun finally came out. We swam briefly after lunch then went back to the rooms to start unpacking. At around 5, we went back to the beach just as the high tide was coming in. Swam for a bit and then a brisk work out in the hotel pool (Treviche, but the sis and I called it Ceviche) and then off to the rooms to get ready for dinner.

Prior to dinner, we had a much needed GNT and discovered that they have a very welcome happy hour. We sat there reminiscing about our previous visits and discussed our plans for the next day. Dinner time was announced by the dining staff who gathered around with various local instruments and they went dancing around the large reception area, the bar and other places the tourists were gathered. We wanted to wait though for that initial rush to die down so we waited for about an hour until 8.30. I have to give the hotel kudos for its dining menu. It has the standard buffet on offer but they also offer a five course dining option with access to the extremely delicious and probably the best salad bar I’ve experienced in Kenya. We chose the five course and went for the fish. DELICIOUS. Best hotel food I’ve tasted in a long, long time. Was amazing. We stuffed ourselves silly and had a nice half carafe of house white to go with it. By 9.30, we were exhausted and quite portly at the point. I insisted we take a walk to the beach to digest before crashing for the evening so we staggered down the many walkways toward the sound of pounding surf. The tide was peaking then and the rush of wind and salt air just added to our already intoxicated senses and I turned to the twin and said, "I love you very much, but right now, I wish you were a completely different gender, unrelated and of Italian descent." She mumbled something about the feeling being mutual and we sighed, hating each other for a bit before heading back up. The hotel has 24hr security so it was comforting to see this guard walking around with what looked like a bull but was really this massive rottweiler whose paw prints made a deeper impression in the sand than his handler.

Off to bed we went and I barely managed to make it in before I was out like a light and slept for a solid 8 hours in one position. I woke up at about 6.30 and had that wonderful feeling, trying to figure out exactly where I am. I turned over hoping my sister had turned into Totti but alas, I was stuck with her. I tried to get her to come and swim with me but she declined respectfully. I didn’t know you could use the "f" word in so many forms as a verb, noun, adjective etc. all in one breath and turn over and continue muttering until sleep clouded the senses. I went down to the beach and that sun was already hot and burning. The tide was quite high and I worked over to the nearby Leopard Beach Hotel as they have a very interesting reef/rock formations around the water-sport area and also a cool break wall. I walked around, the surf rushing to meet me, swirling around my feet, eww, seaweed, cool, amethyst shell....was absolutely awesome. I walked around for a bit then headed back toward the rooms. I had a fantastic morning swim and did some serious laps before heading back to the room. The twin was still asleep so I flung my wet swim suit at her to wake her up.

Breakfast was standard fare, omelette bar, great fruit selections, and yummy sausages. Keeping in mind this is an Islamic part of Kenya, the pig products were tucked very far away from everything else so it was quite a hunt for the bacon and sausages I desperately craved. Once found, they were absolutely delicious. We needed to run some errands that morning (Friday) so we got ready for a dash to the Diani Shopping Center. We could have taken a taxi but their prices are EXORBITANT and seeing as we were only going a short distance, we opted for a matatu. There are many running between the hotels on that long Diani stretch so we didn’t have to wait for long. We took one down first to the Barclays shopping center. A small sort of strip mall with cyber cafes, a tiny supermarket and a billion curio places to trap tourists. I needed to use the ATM but other than that, they didn’t have what we wanted so we continued on to the Diani center. We had to get a matatu from the junction and about five minutes later we were there. The Diani shopping center has evolved from the one shop place we remember it to be, to a large strip mall that has just about anything the heart desires. There’s a neat little supermarket with quite a good selection of most things. Because there is a very large German and Italian population here, the food selection is wonderful. The cheeses looked particularly delightful but we didn’t want to bother with buying bread and such. We bought our liquor supply (much cheaper than even happy hour) and we picked up a very much needed deep conditioner. My hair dresser was already pissed off that I was going to the coast without braiding my hair. We did get annoyed with the Muthaiga Mini Market though because they charge extra for shopping bags! Bastards. We putted around for a bit and then decided to head back. We got a matatu to the junction again, jumped out and waited for one coming from the Ukunda direction. It came quickly and we got in. LOL, interesting thing. Kenyans truly discriminate against each other and I think it might explain why there are very few locals visiting the South Coast because one cannot believe a Kenyan could be a tourist in that region. The matatu driver asked us where we were going and we told him. As we approached the hotel, he said, "Staff entrance, yes?" We said, "Umm, no, main gate." He looked back at us in shock and then said, "Nyinyi ni wageni?" (You are tourists?) We nodded and he turned back in silence. What is so hard to believe about two Kenyan girls going on holiday by themselves that makes everyone think they’re either staff or hookers. (A lot of pent up rage on this one actually.) Like if my boys, Miguel, Jamie or Tristan came to visit, knowing how close we were, people would automatically assume that I’m a pro looking for a green card.

Urghh. Anyway, back to hotel. It was only 11 but it was 12 somewhere so out came the wonderfully refreshing beers. We sat down on our balcony and read for about an hour. We were still stuffed from breakfast so we went down to the beach chairs. We lay back in a tiny cove which had about 8 chairs. We smiled at our fellow guests and settled down to some serious reading. Occasionally you’d look up, look around, smile and go back to reading. By the way, I found the best therapy in the world. It was right then and there. You just lay back, let the sun warm you, sometimes jump up and go take a quick dip, come back and lie down, sip your beer, rub in more sun block and then read some more. True tale: I had been seriously stressed and I tend to break out around my flush points, i.e., neck, wrists etc. Well I’d gone to the coast with a really bad case but not even 24 hours after being in that water and that environment, it had dramatically reduced in irritation and appearance. By the time I’d left, you couldn’t even tell I’d had an outbreak. I took off my watch and placed at the bottom of my beach bag to be ignored for the duration of my stay. I sent nasty text messages to just about everyone I knew saying, "On the beach, sipping a Tusker. You?" The replies ranged from heartfelt sobbing to angry and detailed instructions as to what I could do with my holiday. I smiled and put my phone together with my watch.

I could go on and on but that was pretty much how the whole stay went. That afternoon however, we did something incredible. Since the tide was going out, we decided to walk toward the south (Diani direction except on the beach) and see how far we could go. I was convinced we could walk as far as where we used to live during our holidays. I was so glad for my beach shoes because there was a lot of exposed coral and grainy sand we had to walk over and there were dead urchins and such all over the place. The worst beach ever...right outside Alfajiri. It's a very private place to get to and they don't advertise so I definitely see the appeal for Brad and Angelina and family but it's not a swimmer's resort. It was closed for the low season but it looked wonderful from the outside. Like I said, if the hotel has no beach shots, they're hiding something from you. We walked on for a while and then realized we'd found the beach entrance to our home! We ran up the secret jungle path (counting all the steps - an old family tradition), looking out for giant monitor lizards and snakes, and found ourselves years back in our lives. Long story short, we came home. We met the new owner of our old place, a lovely lady who bought it for her grandkids. I already asked her to adopt us. She's made some incredible changes and it actually looks like it should be an exclusive beach nightclub. Amazing place. Wow. She let us jump in the kidney shaped pool in which we'd learned to swim at the age of 5 and we took an amazing swim. We hugged her goodbye and then skipped down the path again. We took more pictures and then ran into the ocean. I know now why the beach spoiled me. That particular section of the beach front has always been smooth, seaweed free and there are always fishermens boats anchored nearby just begging to be clambered into. We would have happily stayed there except it was five and the tide was coming in and we had to walk back the four miles very quickly because there was a coral section that jutted out that would soon be inaccessible. We barely made it, exhausted but jubillant at having done something incredible with the only person in the world who would know exactly what you were feeling at that moment.

The following day, we hired a boat at around 3 in the afternoon from one of the nagging beach boys. "I'll give you a good price because you're my sista, you're not a mzungu."That is the one thing that ruins the coast, the beach boys and they can do and get anything for you, including being your companion for the duration of your stay. Yech! Anyway, there's a sand bar that is always exposed during the low tide and we wanted to get as close to it as possible. so we hired the boat with two guys who paddled us over to the bar. The sand on the bar is so soft and refined that you will sink to your knees immeadiately on the outer banks so you have to practically crawl. It was awesome! They pointed out the urchins hugging the surrounding coral reef and they mentioned Moray eels but those I didn't bother to look for. In between the marine biology lesson, they would mention their shop in Ukunda, their starving family, the club where they could get you in and then back to the difference between the older and younger urchins. LOL. Welcome to Kenya. It was something else to be all the way out there and the sister who'd battled the expense (only $6 r/trip for two) was greatful in the end that we had undertaken that adventure.

Leaving the lodge was tragic, tragic, tragic. The twin had announced very early in the morning that she had no intention of going back to Nairobi and that I was on my own and she wasn't sure how she'd survive seeing as her bank account and mine were threatening to show negative balances. We had decided to fly back from Diani to Wilson Airport in Nairobi and we took Aero Kenya, a turbo prop plane (very expensive but the convenience is well worth it). There were 18 passengers total on our small plane and although there was not inflight service or entertainment...or safety instructions for that matter, it was still a more pleasant flight than the cattle flight that is Kenya Airways. The flight was awesome. We flew over the Mara and the views were spectacular. You could follow the Athi and Tana Rivers massive path through the parched land, unfortunately dried up in some parts but capable of sustaining life on its banks. I wanted to cry as we flew closer to Nairobi because I DID not want to go to work the following day. We had to fly in over the larger airport, Jomo Kenyatta because there are no landing lights at Wilson (I shit you not) so the tower had to identify us. Was really neat flying over all these parked jumbos and then back up into the air, around the Nairobi National Park and then onto to Wilson Airport.

It was an amazing holiday and I got to do it with my sister and more so, it was expolaratory research for my career path. I found the hotel I'm going to buy and it's wonderful. Right now it's a burnt shell but it has promise.

I've written for ages but I had to make up for my silence. I'm sad I'm going to miss Ben and Talley's wedding coming up sooon, sniff, sniff, sniff but I'll have a bottle of champagne on you two. I love you both very much and come to Kenya for your honeymoon! More later and much sooner, I promise.

Cravings

2006-04-26T04:10:00.000-04:00

I'm aching to go to Mombasa right this minute. The only thing stopping me is money and the requirement of moving this weekend. I really do want to be walking on the beach right now, exploring exposed marine life, squealing at sea slugs and bargaining with a boatman to take me across to the reef. Me sister is coming in a few weeks and we're planning on heading to Malindi or Diani for a bit and I can't wait! I'm stoked she's coming because I need her badly. Oh, things are over with he who shall not be named. Let me just say to be passionate is a very bad thing.

Urgh, I think I'll just put my feet in a bucket of cold salty water and bask in the sun - whenever it peeks out. The weather has been super erratic of late. It rains all night, unbearably hot and bright during the day and then an afternoon storm comes through and then it's humid at night. Not making any sense at all. Which is why I'm craving the smell of salt and the constant caress of warm winds on my skin. Wow, maybe I should just go. Jump on a bus, (about $20 rtrip), find a hostel for $5 a night and stay the whole weekend. But the food bill will get me. With all the swimming and walking (and generally healthy behavior) that I indulge myself in when I'm there, my appetite is simply ginormous. Well, I suppose I could find a nice swahili roadside cafe and play cat and mouse with dysentry, stomach flu and various intestinal ailments to save a buck.

Hurry up sista! So we can go! Oh, I'll be able to host friends in about two months time so start saving!

Hotels and Dogs etc.

2006-03-31T11:14:00.000-05:00

Ah, Coldplay should be banned when you have one of the following symptoms: PMS, a man, a couple of beers in your system, at the beginning, middle and most definitely the end of a relationship, before and after "relations" (you tend not to hear during) and many other situations, i.e., Life. What is it about the lyrics in each and every damn song that touches everything you live, breathe and sleep? Urghh. I’m listening to A Message from the Album X&Y right now and have finished sobbing to Fix You.

I’m fine, totally stoked that me sister (the one with a Mercedes and room for a pony) is coming to visit me in the Third World in a couple of months and she’s bringing the Parents! Whom I miss like it hurts… or they could simply fulfill my wishes and send the pride and joy of my heart that is Chloe. (If you have a Boston Terrier or have had the pleasure of being near one, you’ll understand my sentiments.) That’s another thing Kenyan I have to get used to. You’ll rarely find a fellow dog lover around here and when you do, stick to them as they are a kindred and knowledgeable spirit as to the power of that canine connection. People in my office all have pictures of their children, significant others (real and those they long to be real) on their Desktops and screensavers. Moi? I have my babies: the dogs. Oh, and Kenyans really don’t like it if you say you love dogs more than people (which I do most days) and take offense especially when I call state very clearly that they are the only children I intend to have. There’s a lady in my office who threatened to beat me up because I changed her desktop pic of her baby to that of my baby. LOL, she thinks I’m mad for that actually. How can you not love dogs!!! Silliness I tell you.
I just realized I’ve been in my office for 13 hours now. I’m a workaholic that’s for sure but my paycheck sure don’t recognize it. Still apartment hunting and it’s quite the trip. A lot of the apartments that are being advertised for singletons are converted servants quarters – yes, that name still exists. And the one apartment I did see featured what a close friend of the family (seven years old) a Long Drop Choo. (choo means toilet). In this case, it’s a pit latrine hence the "long drop" I fired that realtor promptly. I may get lucky tomorrow but I’ve stopped holding my breath.

Ok, it’s Friday night, time for a little party and then off to bed early tonight. Long day tomorrow – the tourism fair is on and I’m going to check out some packages for when the family is here. I’m stuck between http://www.leopardbeachhotel.com and Serena Beach Hotel www.serenahotels.com.

Oh, my lovely sister spoiled me rotten with a three-day weekend stay at the Hilton in Nairobi. Hilton is the reason why I want to be in this business. I had an absolutely amazing time and got the rest and relaxation I so desperately craved. I will continuously berate them for dragging their feet and not owning a Mombasa property. Wake UP HILTON! You need a hotel at the Coast! Ok, I’m off now.

Life

2006-03-22T10:02:00.000-05:00

I've been eating pure crap lately. Take for example my meals today. For breakfast I had a sausage roll, then at about 11 I had a samosa, for lunch I had a chicken pie and I've just finished scoffing a plate of fries for dinner. Urghh, all the starch, the flour - my skirt is beginning to protest at the incredibly pressure it's under from the increasingly widening wasitline that is the testament of my recent gorgings. I've been stressed, that's for sure and I think it's being reflected in my diet which is sad. There is a solution to all of this but as is with resources, I'm going to have to get a whole lot more creative.

Sort of sorted out what put me in the dumps two weeks ago but it's taking a weird turn. I hate that point in any relationship when you come to a fork in the road and you have to choose and that choice will change the landscape of what you believe and what you actually feel about yourself. Could I get any more cryptic? Certainly! But I'm knackered and there's a lovely GNT calling my name.

Laters.

Oh, it's HOT HOT HOT in Nairobi. It rains in the morning and sometimes all through the night but around noon, you're peeling your shirt off your back and fanning yourself with anything and that heat lasts until about bedtime. The skeeters have been having a feast on my body so I had to use a mosquito net for the first time in ages. It's a pity I'm not in Mombasa though. Soon though.

Have I mentioned that I have the world's best sister who deserves nothing but love and worship for what she did for me. I'm sooooo lucky! I love you Little Fluff!

Blues

2006-03-09T08:37:00.000-05:00

In a much better place today. I got a thank you e-mail from someone whom I did something for which I'd totally forgotten about and it made me feel that I'm not a completely selfless idiot some of the time. So it's squared shoulders and chin up, try not to screw up anymore.

It's been an incredibly horrendous week but I've kept busier than usual and that's helping. I'm planning something huge for next week but as is with things that I would love to do, I'd better fulfill it or have concrete plans before I gush about it.

Movie Madness: Constant Gardener & Syriana

2006-03-06T02:33:00.000-05:00

The rainy season is upon us quite suddenly and very off the mark. They normally start in late March but it has been raining insanely for about a week now. I've been incredibly busy at work and apartment hunting and while the former has been productive, the latter is lacking in success. I'm getting desperate now and my budget is going up (my salary certainly ain't) but not at that stage where I'm looking for a flat share. To be a single lass in Nairobi looking for a one bedroom is harsh!

Anyway, this weekend started out with a torrential downpour on Friday. I was in town with some mates and we couldn't leave until about 11 that night because traffic was going nowhere. While I wouldn't recommend it, a friend told us that he pulled into a gas station at some point and bought some booze and got right back into traffic because it was moving that slowly and he wanted to pass the time. Too much fun this weekend and the best part was going to the movies. I went to Junction to watch Syriana. Absolutely brilliant movie. I loved Traffic so I knew that I was going to like this movie and it was amazing. Poignant, rich and just plain smart. Alexander Siddig was amazing, amazing, amazing. He's English - Pakistani and was born in Sudan! Actually, there wasn't a cast member that didn't fit their roles, it was played out beautifully. Leaving the theatre, I heard some interesting comments from two young Kenyan girls. "You know, it's true about the Americans and how unfair they are to the Arabs. They don't care about whom they hurt as long as they get their oil." I would have loved to sit down with them and pick their brains about their train of thought but I had to rush all the way across the city to Village Market to go watch Constant Gardener with a mate. That was an interesting ride. I had to get a bus back to town and then go and get a matatu to go to Village Market. That ride was harrowing as their are long open fast stretches and the driver just about killed us a couple of times. I got their much faster than anticipated but with a pounding heart.

Now Village Market is unreal. It's not Kenya. I actually waited for my mate at a restaurant called The Camelot which tried to be medieval. I should be grateful that the staff weren't wearing paper crowns. If you want to escape the reality of poverty, corruption and Kenya, that's the place to go. You can go bowling for an incredibly exorbitant rate, even the movies are more expensive: Ksh. 400($5.75) while at Junction they were Ksh. 280 ($4). But, the kids love it so, let it be.

Constant Gardener has a bit of history in Kenya. John Le Carre wrote the book in 2001 (I think) and it was promptly banned by then President Moi. He believed that it potrayed Kenyans in a bad light because it was about pharmaceutical companies being given allowance to use Kenyans as guineapigs implying they are disposable. I think the main problem with the book was that it showed Kenyan officials as being incredibly corrupt (THEY ARE!!!!) and hence the book was banned. The movie shows the exact opposite. In fact, it actually made the Kenyan people look good in their indefatigable spirit in the face of adversity while making the British Foreign Office look callous, selfish and supercilious, and the Kenyan politicians were potrayed exactly as they are....corrupt a*holes.

The movie theatre was packed because believe it or not, this was the only place this movie was being shown in Kenya and it was opening this weekend for the first time. Forget that it was actually shot in Kibera. I don't know why the theatres were afraid to release it before this weekend. It's was absolutely moving. I was choked up most of the time, feeling incredibly guilty. I know it's fiction but more than that was seeing those faces, seeing their lives, seeing it everyday and yet I walk around, my mp3 plugged in, my face staring ahead and not looking around me and seeing. At the end of that movie, there was an audible sigh like everyone in there had a gut check moment. I know I did. Mine was the little Sudanese girl Abouka. Fundamentally changed something.

I'm glad Rachel Weisz won best supporting actress and George Clooney did so deserve his Oscar as well. Crash was brilliant so I'm stoked about that. I haven't seen Brokeback Mountain yet, though I do have a confession. I promised myself that I would never by those bootleg copies you can get for Ksh. 400 that have five movies in one but I (shame) bought a dvd with six movies because it had Brokeback Mountain and Tristan & Isolde. Bootleg images and I'm sorry!

Ok, back to apartment hunting. I'm just glad I started the week with an excited mind. Laters.

Danish Cartoons in Kenya

2006-02-10T05:37:00.000-05:00

I have yet to see these cartoons but an Arab friend of mine has promised she will stone me if I look at them.

Wow, this whole thing is amazing. There is a planned protest march from the Danish Embassy to the city centre after prayers this afternoon. I bet nobody ever imagined the impact of a couple of sketches of free speech would have on the world. Oh wait, the march is on. It's very peaceful right now, wait until that sun gets to them then whew. It really is quite hot right now but I'm not complaining.

Very busy at work, but planning on an Easter holiday to Malindi, yay! Found an incredible package deal that covers accomodation and transport for 4 day for less than $100 for the whole trip! No lying! Talk to me nice and I'll tell you where.

This country is nuts

2006-02-02T00:10:00.000-05:00

There's a lady in my office who gets hired to attend funerals and go wail with the loudest of them. She told me that it is mostly to build up the emotion surrounding the burial of someone and the louder the cries, the more important the person must have been. Yeppers, she gets paid to do that.

Also, quite interestingly is the story of the American woman who's being accused of molesting five boys at a children's home.

Also, the Finance Minister resigned because he's being investigated for corruption. 'nuff said. I've been bitching since day one about how corrupt this country is and how the cabbages in office have been ripping people off like it's going out of style. A story in one of the papers this week reported that World Bank withheld a huge chunk of change at the urging of of former Brit High Commissioner Edward Clay and on the same page, sandwiched in between all the idiots in crying shame, was an article about how these same assholes had spent over $10 million government money on luxury vehicles.

I'm livid about this because, the country has been struck by a tragic drought that has virtually paralyzed the entire Northern part of the country. So sad to watch the news every night and you see pastoralists taking their livestock to empty water troughs and cows practically licking at dry taps in hopes of getting a single drop. This, interlaced with pictures of skinny kids, with bloated bellies, animal carcasses littering the desert, and greedy shop keepers selling food that is clearly labled, "NOT FOR SALE", it's sad. And you know things are bad when you see Masai grazing their cows on the city outskirts because the fields have dried up where they normally feed. I kid you not, last week I was on a bus and actually apartment hunting on the way to a movie and my bus jerked to an abrupt stop in a middle class neighborhood so that the Masai Moran could herd his 50 or so cattle across the busy main Ngong Road.

A crazy if not goodhearted Kiwi woman has offered her part in helping fight the drought by sending Fido's food over to help feed the starving Kenyan kids. Ok, I've tasted dog food before, and cat food as well and as a serious pet lover, I have no problems nibbling on Chloe's biscuits. But to want to send dog food to Africa to help fight the hunger and food shortages is a bit much. But who knows? People are so hungry they'll eat anything right now and Kibbles and Bits probably has more nutrients than plain maize flour.

New Year, didn't make resolutions but I had a great time ringing it in. Was up until 8 in the morning at Lake Naivasha. I saw the most amazing thing. At about a quarter to six, I was still up with about forty other people dancing to Mugithi (Kikuyu dance music) but I wanted to down to the Lake to see whether the Hippos would still be out of the water or getting ready to go in. I had on my mp3, was listening to Dario G's, "Sunchimes" and I walked down toward the Lake. Foolish I know especially because I didn't tell anyone I was going there and I had on ear buds. But the hippos were already in, you could see the square wet heads slapping loudly and vigorously in the water as they enjoyed that inital dip. The sky was amazing - that blue between night and day, the few clouds that were up looked like they were literally on fire. With the sun coming up, they were a violent crimson with pink slashes. I walked all the way to the edge of the pier, closer to the hippos but safe enough to know that there was a nearby shack I could run to....forget that it was on stilts and looked super fragile. I breathed in that cool sharp air and was loving life so much and just then, a huge flock of egrets came out of the sky from nowhere to my left and they swooped down right infront of me, in perfect formation and barely skimmed the surface and then rose right up in the air and took a wide arc back around. It was breathtakingly beautiful in how simple and natural and wonderful things can be and it honestly felt like I was in a movie. My (insert giggle) boy says a camera was probably rolling. Oh, he's still away, I'm still not dating but then again, there's nobody worth seeing.

Nairobi still sucks, it's dusty, it's crowded and I'm looking for an apartment. I've actually found one but it won't be ready until March but I have to move out of where I'm staying right now or I'll shoot myself. So still hunting, going looking around again this weekend, hopefully I'll have something by Sunday. And then! I can actually invite people to come visit. Yes my dear Corinne, I've been a very bad friend.

Ok, back to work - my job is so/so right now. Looking forward to grad school. Laters!

Life so far....

2005-12-14T08:20:00.000-05:00

Ahh, haven’t blogged in ages because I’ve been so busy. Wow, almost a year now! Christmas is coming, my first ever without my twin – first time I’m celebrating our birthday without her – BIG SNIFF! This trip has been so weird and it gets more interesting as time goes by. I’ve discovered a couple of things about myself that’s for sure.

1. I’m a workaholic. I love working; I enjoy my job, (not particularly love) but certainly wake up with little or no trepidation about heading off to work. I like coming in early before everyone shows up, getting my act together and up and running by the time everyone rolls in at about 8. The only downside to this is that if I’ve had a particularly fun evening the night before, it shows on my face like glow in the dark bracelets the following morning so I’ve had to cut down drastically on "fun" evenings.

2. Nairobi sucks. I mean this city just plain sucks. It’s dusty, crowded and exceptionally filthy in some parts. But then again what city doesn’t have its bad points. I’m up bright and early every day and off to work when there’s no traffic. Oh yeah, forget about trying to leave town for lunch because getting back in will take at least an hour – and that’s just sitting in traffic. The roads are exceptionally bad. Lights do work but mainly during rush hour when there’s a traffic cop to reinforce that. Most of the time it’s a death race with matatus. My matatu stage thank goodness is nearby but there are people who have to take two to get to work! So, every morning, my trip to work takes exactly 15 minutes, but the trip in the evening takes a minimum of an hour. Same distance and in fact utilizing a shortcut but the traffic is just horrible. Usually, I’ll stay late if I see how bad the roads are and go for happy hour with whichever trapped soul is in the city and then I cab it home. I think Nairobi would be more bearable if there was more to do within the city as well.

3. And from number 2 I can definitely tell you that there’s nothing to do except booze. And Kenyans can certainly hold their liquor. It’s actually crazy to see what serious boozers there are. I know coming from me this is rich. But when people are drinking, quite openly in a bar at 10a.m. on a Tuesday morning and they are nowhere near an airport, that’s just crazy. Weekends are crazy and it was only just recently – as in last week, breathalyzers were actually introduced and people were dismayed at the limitation put on their boozing. There are quite a number of drunk drivers on the roads; actually every night you’ll see at least one so cabs were finally making money last week and were overcharging quite a bit because they could get away with it.

4. I love Mombasa and am actively seeking employment there. I’ve even contemplated becoming a fisherman…woman? Person? The whole place just spells R&R. I’m dying to go to Lamu or Malindi soon, which I hear are even more peaceful. But none can beat Diani beach. It’s not overrun by developers yet and still retains a very laid back Swahili charm.

5. The meat is too good. Sorry DT, but tofu will not just cut it for me. There are many nyama choma (roast meat) joints all over the place. A friend (American actually!) introduced me to this really interesting place that served incredible meat. You pick the cuts and they’ll roast them right there for you. Very nice. I’m drooling actually. The dishes are accompanied by huge slabs of ugali (boiled hardened maize/corn flour) that is tasteless but accompanied by that juicy meat and stewed sukuma (kale). Mandatory on the table is a kilo size Kimbo tin full of some seriously dodgy and watery Kachumbari (salsa) mix.

6. Politics is going to ruin this country and very quickly at that. You may have noted that there recent Orange V. Bananas constitutional referendum blah blah blah vote was concluded and the Orange (not the pres’s team) won by a clear margin. Well, he went ahead and dismissed the Cabinet and then two weeks later put it back together without a single vocal Orange in the group. Two of his own Bananas split from the bunch because they claim the cabinet postings were unfair as far as inclusion of other party members (sounds fair). But in reality, they wanted more prestigious ministries like Foreign Affairs to embezzle from rather than the lackluster and boring ones of Health which have already been thoroughly pilfered, hence rendering them useless as pocket money fillers. The only smart thing that cabbage in office did initially, was to get rid of the one guy who seemed determined to get himself banned from most countries (I think Cape Verde was the latest to revoke his visa).

Another sad and scary thing that none of these idiots seem to realize is that they are completely scaring away foreign investors by increased levels of corruption and some serious ass foot dragging when it comes to rebuilding the crumbling infrastructure. E.g., Kenya Railways (can you believe trains still run! And the last time maintenance was done was like 17th century…ok, 18th. ) There’s a concession to rebuild the railway and to modernize and connect the lines of Uganda & Tanzania to make them more efficient but the lovely and most efficient government of Kenya has managed to sleep through the process such that the construction is going to go ahead without the country’s own rail section.

7. Dating in Nairobi…. (Whistling, yawn, scratching head, examining fingernails – I need a manicure, ooh, new stuff in my In – Tray!) ’nuff said.

8. This country is truly, truly gorgeous. Getting out of the city is a welcome diversion and actually you get to appreciate and enjoy what is out there. Rolling hills? Check. Wild animals? Check Pristine Beaches? Check. Kind locals? Check. Good beer? Check. Overpriced beer? Check. Cheeky monkeys that steal the grapes off your breakfast table? Check. Beach boys mobbing you the minute you step off your hotel property? Check. Likelihood of watching a stampede of minivans in the Mara rather than Wildebeests? Check. Ok, you catch my drift but they totally add to the ambience and rich natural treasure that is the Kenyan experience. I totally love all that and look forward to trips out of the city. I truly wish I could have people visit me but I have to get a better apartment and most definitely a car before I can do that. Which leads me to…

9. Housing. The suburb where I live is growing way too fast. More and more apartment blocks are coming up with very little zoning and planning as far as structure to the existing facilities such as water, sewer and electricity supply. Just a month ago, a girl was electrocuted just by turning on the shower because KPLC (Kenya Paraffin, Lanterns and Candles) had done a horribly messy job of trying to connect a new housing development and inadvertently left a live wire touching the too closely exposed water pipe leading to the girl’s house. There are dozens of incomplete construction projects as well because halfway through choosing the tiles for the bathroom and paint for the walls, the investor ran out of chumz (slang for money – pronounced chooms) and so their drab apartment buildings sit there, relics of what freshly dried and un-sculpted cement looks like. Also in other places, construction goes ahead without approval and you get these urban monstrosities of 6 storey buildings that are erected on foundations built to withstand one storey, let alone ½ the latter level. Eastleigh suburb/slum (affectionately known as Mogadishu because of the majority population – ok all the residents are Somali) is a classic example of this kind of construction. At least Addis (Hurlingham) has more of a fairly modern 80s structure going to it.

10. Kenyans actually like Americans. They certainly imitate them as much as possible but there is none of that visible anti-US sentiment. Well, the Italians (who own Malindi) and the Germans (who criticize the government in the Press) have managed to distract foreign attention away from good old US. The only time people bring up any political rumination as far as G.W. country is to show appreciation for the continued denial of gay rights. Ok, that’s being a little harsh but honestly, Kenyans have a lot on their plate as far domestic issues such that the domestics of other nations does little to concern them except when it infringes on their rights – which actually are yet to be revealed seeing as the whole Oranges Banana salad was about the constitution and what rights we do / don't have.

Christmas is next week but to be honest, this 80-degree weather, cloudless skies and light humidity has failed to put me in the mood. I need bitter harsh winds from Lake Michigan to swoop in with a million feet of snow before I get into the spirit. I do miss all dearly and wish you the best.

Yay, F.C. is getting married! Soon to be F.S.C.O'S! Sounds like an exam n’est ce pas? This marriage will have a continuous passing grade anyway! Hugs, kisses to you both, congratulations!

Mombasa!!!!

2005-11-02T05:12:00.000-05:00

Print this one! Way too long.

I finally went! Mombasa! LOL, I can’t believe I actually did it. I had to go for work and left early on a Saturday – well, early enough for Kenyan timing and came back on Tuesday after an amazing rejuvenating holiday that was critically needed. I know for a sure that I am truly a water and beach baby because it’s all I think about right now, how much I loved the experience, the place.

There were hiccups right from the start. I was taking the first flight out at 7.45 and dutifully got to the airport an hour early, very groggy from the night before and dressed for the beach in super cold weather. Ok, not below freezing cold but enough for me to question why I wore sandals and my bush capris. I checked in with the super tight security and subjected myself to a frisk because the damn hoop earrings I wore set off the detector. Btw, Kenyan airport security has always been remarkably thorough even pre- 9/11 days. You even need a ticket to get into the check in area so all good-byes and hellos are conducted on the curb. Anyway, damn earring set me off and I was groped by this woman for what seemed like ages. When she was finally done I wanted to cry out, "Call me in the morning?" It’s usually not a good sign when you’re being frisked and the agent casually mentions, "Your flight is delayed." I looked around and saw no visible board that would confirm her message so I shrugged my shoulders and moved forward. I checked in with Kenya Airways – an airline with great potential but squandered opportunity. At check in, the attendant informed me that yes, the flight was indeed delayed but apparently so were all the incoming and outgoing flights. Upon further query of information, she smiled gently and shook her and waved me on. Now, the domestic departure area can be generously described as sparse and no frills have been spared to make it a warm and inviting place. So I went through YET another security check (I told you, very thorough), and arrived at the departure lounge. This flight had a bit of celebrity to it, as it was the inaugural flight for the airline, the first 777 to do this very busy leg of Nairobi to Mombasa.

Needless to say, my brothers were more excited about it than I was. All I was dreaming of was sandy beaches, the sea and a deliciously fruity cocktail…and work ofcourse. So I asked the gate attendant what the problem was and she said, "We’ll let you know. We’re not sure right now." The one thing the departure area boasted was one, count it one, snack/café/ bar stall that was quite versatile in its offerings. You could get your coffee, Lavazza’s which I’m so into right now. (Yeah, I’m living in Nairobi, loving Italian espressos and yet we have phenomenal coffee…I’m a sellout).

So I got my cappuccino and croissant and a newspaper and settled down into what was arguably the most uncomfortable plastic, fluorescent green bucket chair and waited for some news. I quickly got engrossed in some interesting articles, one in particular about the Vittel Amazones raid taking place in Kenya, and didn’t look up for about ½ an hour and realized that the lounge had filled up and was spilling out into the other waiting areas for other flights. I picked up my stuff (growing by the minute – Now I had gone from the original book and light shoulder bag to breakfast debris and unruly newspapers.) I walked around looking for anyone in that red suit that KQ (Kenya Airways) attendants wear and found a group of people standing around one. She was still dishing out the same story she gave me so I checked out the runway, saw no plane and decided to go find out what was going on. I walked through the two security check points, making a mental note of the time it would probably take to come through on the way back. Outside, the crowd had thinned so I patted one of the security guys on the shoulder and asked him "Wassup?"

The story went like this. A cargo plane had taken off for Amsterdam in the wee hours, but the pilot claims he developed a problem with the hydraulics and had been forced to circle and jettison all his fuel before making a crash landing back at the airport. In the process, he snapped the front wheel of the aircraft because he’d made a hard landing and had effectively blocked the runway for all outgoing and incoming flights. My narrator excitedly informed me that all the planes, "even the ones from ‘Ingrand’ and ‘Flance’ are going to Mombasa now instead of coming here and that is where your plane is right now. So you don’t leave until it gets here and now it can’t land." I asked, "Do you think they’ll be able to move the plane off the runway in time today?" He shrugged, "Maybe today, maybe tomorrow, Monday for sure so we’ll see." I gulped thinking about the deadline I had to beat, which I was well on the way to doing had there not been this series of unfortunate events. By this time, my office was calling and cheerfully saying, "Hey, you still in town, huh?" because the news had now spread. Gone were the images of the beach, all I could imagine was I should start thinking about taking the overnight bus to Mombasa but that would mean my luggage would have to be sought, I’d have to make it back to town, try and book a ticket on a leg that is almost always sold out on the weekends. Gulp.

I walked around the airport for a while – well, like 5 minutes, it’s not very large and unless you’re going international, forget about shopping because all the stores are in the duty free section which is in restriction hell zone. I would get excited everyt ime I heard the whir of jet engines only to realize that the smaller planes that were already there were taking off on the shorter runways onward to their destinations. Why oh why did this have to happen on my first trip! Sob! Anyway, I finally settled down at a nearby restaurant and read some more while waiting for the announcer to say anything positive but nada came through that intercom, not even bad muzak. I headed back to the terminal at about 1.30 and still no news. I sat down in the uncomfortable chairs and people watched again. I was super pissed as I’d been doing the, "by this time" game i.e., by this time, I’d be on the beach, watching the tide come in and getting ready to put my book down to go swim, or by this time, I’d be chatting up some gorgeous lad etc. Sigh…......then!

The Vittel Amazones had arrived and by gum, this people are impossibly gorgeous. I’m not sure what minimum attractiveness requirements there were to get on this team but believe me, those French know how to look good even when they’re filthy. They were all wearing bush gear – every tourist to Kenya seems to arrive in full on bush gear, khaki hats, pants, shirts, fanny packs, serious hiking boots that say I’m going to wade through the urban jungle that is the potholed streets of Nairobi…well, actually, they’re kinda smart on that one. They were all dressed in this uniform of safari battle and were dusty and just absolutely gorgeous. The team streamed in, noisy and absolutely hot (drool-worthy) men followed and wow, all of a sudden, a long wait in the lounge didn’t seem so bad. So I mentally dated and broke up with these stunning delicious French men who’d come from Naivasha and were exhausted and sprawled all over the ugly olive linoleum tiles that were the floor of the departure lounge. I looked around and realized I was not the only woman feasting on the visual buffet so I sat back and enjoyed the view. Two hours later, still staring, not realizing time had flown, an announcement was finally made. "Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for your patience and once again, we’re sorry for the delay and inconvenience. (snort!) They were finally boarding our flight but this was no organized boarding. Kenya Airways policy? was to board First Class passengers first. They did this and pushed away the cattle class that tried to mingle with the royalty who were being kowtowed and practically carried out on to the runway. Oh yeah, no ramp for boarding, it’s straight on to the hot and windy runway amidst revving jet engines.

As soon as the first class folk had been shepherded onto the waiting plane and probably on their second mimosa, they announcer came on, "We shall now board the rest of the aircraft…" and the rest was drowned out in the rush to get to those pearly gates that were the glass doors to the runway. Wait a minute! What about boarding the elderly, parents with young kids or people with disabilities? I watched with shame as a couple of elderly folk were shoved unceremoniously out of the way by some of the Vittel crew as well as loads of other people. I’m not sure if that’s their policy that they’ll take care of the deeper pockets and be damned those with wheelchairs. Oh yeah, with no tunnel or ramp, I wondered how the heck someone who was disabled would be able to get up that long flight of stairs onto the plane. Anyway, I managed to hang back a little and joined the queue when most of the crazies had gone through and then realized with dismay that my flight and the subsequent flight were in the same line. Hmm, were they boarding both flights onto one plane or was there another one? But they didn’t make a distinction and sure enough, when I got to the front, the gate agent who looked confused as heck stopped me and said she had to count how many people had boarded. I realized then that there was only one flight! Bastards. Knowing the huge delays as there were now at least two other flights that needed to be boarded, I planted myself firmly at that doorway. No way Jose, I’m not missing this flight. Finally, with a lot of angry yelling from the people behind she let some people through. I will give KQ kudos though; half the things people were saying would have easily guaranteed them detention at the airport jail yet they managed to remain somewhat calm albeit slightly alarmed.

Finally, the lady said five people could go through, so I jumped out, followed closely by a gentleman who I’d struck up a conversation with in the craziness of the line. We walked toward the plane – not the 777 they were glamorously advertising because that was still stuck in Mombasa but rather, the 737. We were led to the backstairs of the plane and on the runway next to it, sat our luggage which we had to identify so it could be loaded on the plane. (In hindsight, yet another stupid move by Kenya Airways. Knowing that I was one of the last few passengers who was boarding this flight, I could have easily hang back for a while, waited until no one else was coming out and identified whatever baggage I wanted as my own because the owner would not be on my flight. They would be back in the terminal bitching to the airline, not knowing they were being liberated of their luggage as to the best of their knowledge, it should be safely stowed away either in the underbelly of an aircraft or in those trolley crates. Meanwhile, I fly to Mombasa, pick up my stuff at arrivals, including my "new" bag and no one would be the wiser. Meanwhile the poor passenger whose stuff had been looted would spend a good chunk of their time trying to locate a bag…it goes on.)

We picked out our luggage, which was promptly put on the plane, and then we climbed the hot stairs all the way to the top. When we came in, the flight attendant said much to our dismay, "It’s free seating, find a place anywhere." When you look straight ahead, every single damn seat was taken and half of them by Kenya Airways flight attendants who were being sent to Mombasa to relieve the crews of diverted flights as they are only allowed to work a certain number of hours. This I could understand as I walked through anxiously looking for a seat. I was determined not to get off this plane. I went all the way through and found myself at the front of the plane, facing some empty seats in First Class. I told the flight attendant that was solidly blocking that stairway to heaven and said, "There are no seats back there." She looked behind and realized that I was followed by five people. They then asked us to disembark and wow, we all lost it. All of us were yelling that we had confirmed seats on the earlier flight but they had boarded two flights on a much smaller plane and this was their fault and I’ll be damned if I get off this plane….wow, we should have been arrested. But we were absolutely livid. I wish I’d gotten the names of the crew who stood at us and actually smiled and did nothing. There was one chap who was running around and reassuring us that all would be okay and he asked us to step off the plane. So we all got out and quelle horreur, they asked us if we could take the next flight, which was due to arrive in half an hour!

Needless to say, there was a lot of shouting after that and I almost screamed when they said, "Just let your luggage go with this flight since you’ll be on the next one." My whole reason for being had been foolishly checked in as it was really heavy and it was only a 45-minute flight. My reasoning at the time was nothing could go wrong. Well, there I was standing on the runway, sweating like a hog, carrying more bags than I had first arrived with, eyeing with panic the closing doors of the luggage bay and seeing the bemused look of the people all ready on board looking down at those poor suckers on the runway. Finally, the one person (ONE!!!) helpful KQ crewmember came running toward us and told us to get back on the plane and he’d sort everything out. So we re-boarded and sure enough, they kicked off the required number of crewmembers so that we could get our seats. I still don’t understand why Kenya Airways couldn’t have flown out all the crew on the smaller flights that had been able to get in and out throughout the day because they weren’t flying anywhere else after that. They were just going to relieve the Euro flight crews. More importantly, the Kenya Airports Authority MUST reexamine the huge design flaw that is an international airport with one functioning runway for large aircraft. C’mon Kenya, this is the new age, get with the program…oh, but to actually have effective reform when it comes to anything government in related, you have to rid the whole system of corruption and inefficiency…something that probably will never be achieved with all the current players in the system.

I digress once again (and will do so every single time I have to deal with anything government related because they are incompetent idjuts.)

I finally settled down in my seat, my equally irritated companion from the runway next to me. We got to chatting and eventually calmed down and had a delightful conversation. Kenya Airways wisely didn’t serve any booze on that short flight as people would have probably ordered double everything and gotten drunk and angry at the crew about the extremely long wait and horrible ground service. My companion, great guy, had just come from tourism award ceremony and his hotel had just won an award for an innovative energy saving program. He was absolutely glowing about his staff who’d done so well and was looking forward to going "home". I was quite jealous because his home in on the beach! Nice plane ride, interesting conversation about the incompetence of the Kenyan government – I won’t go into details as I don’t want to jeopardize his current struggle with them. Such a shame though what corruption and inefficiency occurs and yet his job and passion are to promote tourism in Kenya. Sniff.

Lovely plane ride, tuna sandwiches (yes, there’s tuna sandwiches in Kenya), views of Mt. Kilimanjaro to the right, the great Tsavo park below….this country is effin gorgeous. We landed soon and I was already grinning because I was so close to the beach. Stepping off the plane, you get hit by a wall of humidity and salt air and if my hair wasn’t braided, I’d have an instant ‘fro that would rival Buckwheat’s hands down (or hair up). We walked to the terminal, picked up our bags and off I went looking for a taxi or at least to see if pickup service had been arranged through my hotel. Sure enough, there was a van there. Now, keep in mind, we were the first flight into Mombasa as the final destination since the previous evening, so there were loads of hungry taxi drivers just waiting for us to step out and if it wasn’t for the barrier, I bet they would have picked us up, bags and all and deposited us in their cabs. They were desperate and had been their the whole day. I was shown to my van and they loaded us up pretty quick. There were only five people going to that particular hotel, myself included. I jumped in and was practically giggling and clapping my hands. I opened my window and leaned out as far as I could, feeling the warm – almost hot hair brushing over my skin, my face turned to receive the heat of the 4 o’clock sun and wham! The stench of the nearby oil refineries and various trash heaps that are mark this area called Chanagamwe, invaded my senses brought me back to the realities of pending ecological disasters. Oh well, once we were through the busy streets, we headed north toward Nyali. When I was a kid, we always used to vacation on the south beach in a place called Diani – easily the best place on earth. Beautiful snow-white sand beaches, very few people and the hotels are well hidden behind palm trees so it doesn’t look like Miami. Amazing place, so I was naturally biased against the North all my life.

Along the way to the hotel, we drove past this sickeningly huge homes. A lot of coastal families live the extended family style which while I admire, I cringe to think about the fight for personal space. It was good to note the roads in Mombasa are the same as Nairobi’s except the former’s drivers are insane for lack of a better word. You know for a region known for it’s laid back lifestyle and attitude, they sure drive like it’s "War of the Worlds" where they came from. They are speedy nuts. But I was too excited and was chuckling by the time we pulled up to the long driveway of the hotel. It was absolutely gorgeous. The lobby is quite open and the view opens up to the stunning blue waters that are the Indian Ocean. The tide was just about peaking so I rushed to the check-in counter. The staff were absolutely lovely and an amazing change from the brusque, confused and irregular service of KQ. I wish I got the name of the guy I dealt with but I will tell you that during my entire stay, I have nothing bad to stay about the staff or service and for that, Whitesands deserves its reputation of excellence. While they’re checking you in, you’re served an amazingly welcome cold passion drink and they bring you what you think at first are hot towels, but it’s really very cold towels that are soaked in something minty that is so refreshing. There was this lady/b***h who’d been on the same flight fiasco as I was in front of me who was understandably miffed at the day’s events but to immediately take it out on the staff upon arrival was reproachable. I’m not sure who she worked for but she was there for a Labor workshop or something of that nature to do with workers and unions hence the irony in her attitude. But the good thing was that her bad ass attitude before my turn to check in got me a first rate room. I was smiling like I’d just won a million dollars and was super pleasant and cheerful with the just-insulted staff who were quick to reward good attitude with great service.

Ok, now I sound like an ad. I was handed a key as well as a laminated card that said I was entitled to a complimentary pool towel, but I had to return the towel upon check out or be charged about $20 if I didn’t. Interesting policy but that towel sure came in handy later.
Anyway, the porter led me toward my room, which was detached from the main building but connected by small bridges and long open corridors. I was on the second floor and they do this really neat thing to make you fall instantly in love. The door to the room is wedged wide open and the balcony door is also open so when you come to the entrance, you’re met with this incredible view of the ocean, mosquito nets swaying gently over your bed and sea air swirling your senses. Those porters must love their job because I bet I tipped heavily because I was in heaven. I shooed him out quickly, changed into my swimsuit, grabbed a wrap and ran to the reception. I handed in my key (oh yeah, no key cards here, it’s good old fashioned keys that turn), then jogged down to the beach, through the sandy beach bar area and onto the cream colored soft sand of the beach. The tide was high and gorgeous. I waded in and it was deliciously warm and when I plunged in, it was quite a heady sensation. (I’m smiling remembering this.) It brought back so many warm memories from my childhood and there was no one I would have rather experienced all that at that moment than with my sister….ok, some of the Amazon Vittel guys would have been welcome companions as well….ok, all of them, damn it!

I was grateful for the loud noise of crashing waves because I was giggling like an idiot and splashing around. I’d swim out as far as I wanted and then promptly panic when an undertow of super cold water would interrupt my revere and remind me I’d gone too far and the tide was very strong. I’d swim back to shore, body surf a wave, land spluttering on the beach then promptly run back in to repeat the whole "idiot’s guide to ocean swimming". I swam for a while and watched the action on the shore. I realized that there were a lot of "vendors" of curios and artifacts on the beach – something I can’t ever remember experiencing when I was on the South coast. Normally, you’d find one or two guys coming up to tourists carrying a couple of bracelets or kikoys and they wouldn’t approach the local tourists because let’s face it, we’re cheap bastards. But the downturn in the economy especially after the Paradise Hotel bombing, the locals became attractive and the "beach boys" and vendors alike started hitting up everyone and not just the "wazungus".

Sure enough, when I’d decided I’d had enough, I got out of the water, walked up to get my wrap and was accosted by two "beach boys" offering to sell me key-chains with my name engraved on them if I wanted. I didn’t realize what a problem this was soon to be. I politely turned them down and made my way back to the hotel. The hotel boasts three pools. It’s really two but the large main one features a circular part that’s about 6ft deep and has water polo nets on each side and a swim up bar, then you can go a little inland around a section of rooms and there’s a larger, much shallower pool for the kiddies, equipped with slides etc. And then there’s another circular pool that is wonderfully deep, about 10 ft deep and was blessedly empty when I dove in. I swam lazily, floated around for awhile and then went back to my room. Oh, they have satellite telly in all the rooms (no point really because you’re not there to watch Oprah – ok, I did…but I was getting ready for dinner!) I headed out to the Sports bar they were promoting as it was the Chelsea v. Liverpool game. Yes, yes I know but hey, sports knows no boundaries. The sports bar is called Tamanisha, is on the second floor of the main building, a really nice large circular area with a couple of pool tables, a darts board and big screens. They had huge lovely leather-overstuffed chairs around the tellys and right next to enormous windows that were flung open and the cool breeze wafted in from the ocean and you could see the waves crashing way out on the distant reef. GORGEOUS!

The game was good but I was so distracted by the sight and scents. I had dinner in the main restaurant, which is quite open. There’s a moat surrounding it and they have gorgeous fish swimming around the dining area and they have an absolutely huge and ugly eel swimming in those waters that makes for a grotesque companion at meal time but a creature that you just can’t stop looking at. I will say this for the food; it was okay, nothing to write home about but I don’t understand why there was only one selection of fish for entrees. Didn’t make sense since we’re on the beach. The hotel has three other restaurants, one of them is open for 24hrs but I didn’t check it out until much later. Later on, I took a walk on the beach, gorgeous night, bright stars, the moon unusually bright and it was so surreal because the tide had gone out so where there had been water four hours ago, it was just miles of exposed beach with crabs skittering across the wet sand and seaweed beds. Was really cool. I was absolutely knackered from the day so I crashed early.

I was very lazy the next day. I did have to hop on a matatu to go to the nearby Wal-mart (a.k.a. Nakumatt) to go get some sundries including, most importantly sunglasses. When I’m talking about white sandy beaches, I’m not kidding. It’s bleach white out there and imagine the sun hitting that surface – I learned early in my childhood that even black people can burn under that sun. I had sat on my fave pair of shades 2 weeks back and forgotten to replace them hence the necessity of the trip. The super store was about 2 miles down the road and I could either take a taxi for $4 or a matatu for a quarter. Hmmm, yup, I soon found myself hurtling down a seriously potholed main road (not as bad as Naivasha but a distant second) in a seriously stuffed matatu. The heat drives people mad down there I think because this thing was packed and the van hurtled down the road, I think more so to get some cool air moving throughout the incredibly hot vehicle. It dropped me off in front of the mega store and I went in, picked up some conditioner, booze (actually a good idea to bring your some of your own if you’re planning a laid back evening, because the prices at the beach bar are exorbitant yet you can go sit on the beach in the with your own mix around a specially built fire for hotel guests), and sunglasses. It’s a good thing they were cheap as hell because they died a tragic death a week later once again thanks to my bum.

I got back to the hotel and went for a long walk on the beach. The tide was out again and I wanted to explore the exposed marine life on the seabed. While I would recommend a tour guide to explain everything, I say once again, stay away from the beach boys. The minute I stepped onto the sand from the wooden path that led to my hotel, I was immediately approached by three, wanting to be my guide, show me special hideout spots for various shellfish etc. A polite and firm no would usually deter them but the minute you started walking toward the reef, you would be approached by another one. Like I said, the tide (the water recedes all the way to the reef which is about a mile away so the sea bed is exposed. When the tide comes in, it gets covered again but you can still see the reef way out and the waves crashing on the beach) goes out during the morning and comes back later in the afternoon so it’s a pretty neat walk all the way out to the reef. Check out the Kenyan reef , it’s pretty neat. It’s an absolutely amazing sight. It was weird to be standing in one spot and realize the distance from the hotel and knowing that later that afternoon, when the tide was back, you would not be able to touch the bottom because the water level would be too high and current way to strong. I must have been concentrating too hard on watching where I was stepping because next thing I knew, there was a man next to me holding out an ugly long black thing (for lack of a better description, it looked like a turd) in his hand saying, "Look, a sea slug." EWWWWWWW!!!! He was one of the beach boys and was offering to be my guide. These guides are impossible to get rid off. If you’re not interested in a guide, then they’ll whip out these cool wooden key chains that they can carve your name into in less than five minutes while you wait, or they’ll try sell some other business they have. So I walked around some more with Paul who would not let up. There were not many people on the beach at the time because it was a weekday and also not tourist season so the guides were tenacious about hooking anyone who looked remotely lost. At some point I was grateful for his presence because he’d point out clear sections that I could wade through that were not covered in sea weed and whatever else was underneath on my way toward the reef. As you get closer, there’s a section that always remains underwater so you’ll have to hire one of the fishing boats that are always floating around to take you across the short "lake" toward the actual reef. It takes about 2 minutes tops to get across, but I didn’t carry any cash with me so I had to be content with just gazing across and marveling the huge waves crashing on to the reef just beyond. I stood there for a while and then realized that Paul had left me…finally. I started walking around and then with a start noticed that the tide had started to come in. It’s really weird. One minute, you are standing on sand and then the next, the clear water is up to your knees. I started to walk back toward the shoreline and at one point found my path blocked by seaweed. I panicked and looked around for Paul who had been great about guiding me through that jungle but he was long gone, talking to a seriously blistered red tourist wearing a super tight Speedo – and not the good kind either. (shudder) "Paul!" I rasped, my throat parched. The water was rising, not rapidly but with enough current to stir the seaweed up and get some crabs, lobsters and snails moving around my toes. Now, I love all of the latter but preferably very much steamed, on a tray with a lot of melted butter or herbed olive oil nearby. I finally spotted a very narrow path and waded through the ankle deep water to a clearer section. Wuss, yes I am!

I got back to my hotel and went to the quiet pool and jumped in for a nice long floating session to soothe my burned skin. I loved this section of the hotel because it was really quiet and the only people there were determined sun bathers who whiled the day way trying to char as much of their bodies as possible. There was this one Italian girl/woman/thing who had tanned so much that her skin was the color of…you know when you’ve boiled an egg to long such that the yolk takes on this ashy gray tone? Ya, that’s what this girl’s skin tone was. It was quite alarming actually. As I got out of the pool, I was approached by a guard who politely asked me for my room number. I was like why? And he wanted to know if I was a guest. Apparently, hotels have a lot of problems with prostitutes, especially at the beach. All this poor guy saw was little ol me, walking up from the beach and jumping into their waters, I must be a prostitute! There is a definite discrimination against young black females in Kenya and the assumption with a lot of establishments like clubs, hotels etc. is that every single black female who comes in must be a prostitute. Unfortunately, the Coast is rampant with prostitutes and all sorts of twilight ladies and if they invade your establishment, you run the risk of losing your legit clients so most places have a discreet policy of not allowing women who are unaccompanied by men into these joints. Sad but true and incredibly frustrating if you’re ever stopped. (Never happened to me and I pity the fool the day it does). The one thing that would guarantee I would never face this harassment during my stay was to carry that very expensive blue pool towel which was issued to me upon arrival. With that, I could easily be identified as a guest of the hotel and thereby assure a peaceful and pleasant stay that would assure I would be treated as a guest. I must stress that the staff of this hotel were incredibly warm, accommodating and would bend over backwards to meet your every need. Ofcourse that afternoon when the tide came in, I was frolicking once again the warm heavy waters of the Indian Ocean and completely in love with life. It's amazing what it can do for the soul. After my long swim, I finally sat down with the memory scrap book my amazing friends and family in Woo had made for me before I left for Kenya. I laughed, cried and laughed some more while reading it. Let me just say I miss you all. Although, it was probably not a good idea to have taken in to the Jaol the last night because there were a couple of entries in there that were illegible and incoherent. Lisando, thanks for the sheep and chicken memories...I think that's what you meant to say although I have no clue what that means.

The rest of my stay there was wonderfully pleasant and amazing. My last day there coincided with an amazing solar eclipse. I remember a lazy afternoon, lying on a hammock, reading a book, cold beer in hand and all of a sudden my phone starts ringing and it started getting very dark. Friends and family were calling because to find out whether the eclipse was clear from the coast and it was. It was only 3 in the afternoon but it looked like dusk. It was really neat and it freaked the hell out of the resident monkeys. Oh yeah, hotel has monkeys on the ground. They stay away from you but you’ll see them occasionally running to the pool and taking a sip.
Now, while I’d like to give Whitesands an absolutely clean score card, they did get one bad mark against them. The hotel is popular with seminars and exhibitions and they were hosting a labor organization for a week. (Incidentally, the angry lady from my flight there was the IT person for this seminar.) Their first night there, they had a cocktail reception to welcome the hundred or so participants and for some reason, the prostitutes were too. It was my last night so I didn’t pay too much attention to the couple of women, very skimpily dressed in somewhat cool weather tottering around in heels. I just thought they were part of the organization and were having a good time. However the next morning, while at breakfast before I checked out, there were the same group of women in the lobby area, laughing and shouting out loud, looking very unkempt. No doubt the administration were alarmed because as I waited for my taxi a half hour later, a hotel van was brought around to the front and these girls, some who looked like they’d been literally kicked out of bed were bundled in and driven off. Quite amusing actually but very embarrassing for the hotel, but I ask, they had to come through security (very tight at all Coast hotels) so why were they let in?

Anyway, I’m already planning my next trip and I may go during this whole referendum crap weekend. It’s on November 21st and if I can afford it, I’ll take the whole weekend off and carry my passport with me as well. If all hell breaks lose in Nairobi, I can flee with it…KIDDING! I have been ruined though by my family trips from way back when to Diani in the South Coast which has less beach boys, whiter and softer sand and wonderful cottages you can rent where the fishermen come up to your house with the day's catch. Sigh.

2005-09-06T06:52:00.000-04:00

Sorry! I know in blog years I've killed my journal but for me time is not on my side – ever! Anyway, camping was a blast. We got to Camp Crayfish, one of many that advertises its location on the shores of Naivasha. Unfortunately, this camps isn’t a scenic of the lake at night as it’s a good five minute walk and the main reason being that the hippos come on shore in the evening to graze and are quite dangerous. We checked in and were a little miffed at the price. 620 shillings for one person in a tent that sleeps two ($8) and even if you paired up with someone they’d still charge that amount for the tent. Didn’t make any sense

Anyway, checked in, pretty nice, they have cabins as well for those who want to rough it in style but we opted out of those. Actually, had no choice, there was a company workshop thingy going on and they’d taken up all the cabins. We were in a far dark corner of the compound but were quite happy with the conditions. The tents were clean and the firm mattress pads were in a cute leopard skin cover. Lol. They also supplied us with blankets but I was the only smart one who brought a sleeping bag. One of the boys came with absolutely nothing but himself. Later on while struggling to get home the following day with all that luggage, he was the envy of all of us who’d somehow accumulated more stuff. Anyway, you can buy a bundle of firewood for 100shillings ($1.30) and the night guards will light it for you for free – well, customary to tip and cigarettes for some reason still trade quite well.

If you’re going for the true camping experience, Crayfish may not be it because it has a complete clubhouse with pool tables, bar & satellite telly – we got the tail end of the Liverpool game. It also has a semi-open air dance club on top of the main building and a restaurant. It actually is a convenient lunch/buffet place for day-trippers from either Nairobi or Nakuru. One place that is recommended is Fisherman’s which was further up but we didn’t want to risk going, as it was quite dark then. So we settled down and after an extensive and exhaustive discussion as to whether the meat that was purchased was actually beef or donkey, the boys ate it while I thanked heaven for the chips I got from the clubhouse.

Long story short, very fun and crazy night and I shall leave it at that.

I woke up first that morning at about 10 which was amazing considering I’d just gone to bed at 5. I walked around the campsite re-hydrating like hell and trying to find one of my shoes, which had been doubled as a rugby ball a few hours earlier. I started to feel better after a while and slowly woke up my mates who were in various stages of comical sleep. We wondered down to the main building and ordered ourselves quite a reasonable and very large breakfast. We hang around for a bit playing chess, reading, and listening to music. No one was in any real rush to get back to the city, as it was an absolutely stunning day so I took a walk to finally see the lake. Neighboring the camp is yet another flower farm and between green houses there was a field adjoining the campsite full of roses that hadn’t bloomed yet. I watched farm workers going around carefully pruning and picking early buds and errant leaves and I was quite saddened because you could see the lake in front of you and it has receded considerably. I got down there and met the camp manager who had come over to shush us at some point the previous night. He was looking at a fence that looked damaged and he told me that there had been two rogue hippos terrorizing the two families that lived close to the campsite. He pointed in the direction of the families; about 7 in each group, about half a mile from each other in the water. He explained that one of the males had actually been killed a few days earlier by the KWS because it had broken the electric fences a couple of times and strayed into the campgrounds and nearby flower farms. He then said that in a few days, they’d be able to fix the fence when there were no campers but also they would have to put down the other hippo as it was injured. Before I could comment on that he said ruefully, "Well, it’s our fault really, we’ve taken their land, their shore and now are draining their home slowly so it’s us straying into their environment." We kept quiet and looked across the lake, watching the hippos snort lazily, birds dancing on what little back was exposed. I walked around a little bit and then went to the little clubhouse they have on the shore built specifically for birdwatching. I’m not much of an bird-watcher but wow, the birdlife is absolutely amazing so I’d recommend the camp just for that.
I went back to the campsite, convinced some of my lazy crew to check out the place and then we all left. We actually hooked up with a group of 7 other campers heading back to Nairobi so that way we ensured we were in a safe vehicle and could actually dictate our price wish was considerably less on the return trip.

All in all, a very fun weekend and I can’t wait to do it again…well, my butt can; that road is awful!

Laters.

Oh, congratulations Miguel & Kathy on the birth of Sienna. Dude, you got some serious sleepless nights and dirty diapers coming your way. Best wishes!

And sad day, my (insert giggle) boy is leaving today, very sad

Camping Part 1

2005-08-27T03:56:00.000-04:00

So camping was incredibly awesome. Once again, getting out of the city is always wonderful and awesome but I now have a cold to match my fun night out. I met up with my crew at about 3 that afternoon, being the only girl ofcourse I had way more than the boys like, oh a jersey, toilet paper and a toothbrush…ok, I had a little more than that but I needed everything in there! I swear! So of we went, the first order of business was to look for "fortifications" a.k.a booze but naturally, this was to be done the difficult way. Right across from us was a Nakumatt (borderline Wal-Mart with extremely high prices) but serves alcohol, which wasn’t good enough for D (our self-appointed tour guide). No siree, we ended up going way down historic River Road. If you ever come to Nairobi, you have to go down this road. It features loads of second hand stores that carry electronics, clothing, etc. Anything you could possibly ever need at a bargain rate is found here. I couldn’t possibly tell you how to get there because we used so many alleys and unmarked streets to find it and there are always many helpful people along the way who’ll give you directions…to their stores. It was amazing though and I’m miffed the boys were rushing along because I passed a spice store, sandwiched in between a hardware store and what I’m pretty sure is a pirated DVD/CD shop. I had a glimpse of the interior and it’s floor to ceiling packed with spice bags. Sigh - farewell saffron. We were finally directed toward a building where we descended into a fairly filthy basement level that was jam packed with stalls. They sold everything under the sun; cell phones and accessories, soaps, pots and pans and yes, our much sought after liquor. The young lady behind the cage looked at us, interest growing in her eyes at the motley crew of urban kids in the middle of River Road approached her. My companion and I settled on some vodka and I immediately started to bargain the heck out of it and wow, it worked – she dropped the price by 20 shillings! Lol, I tried to get her to do the same for the Red Bull but universal truth about that energy booster; it’s expensive everywhere. The rest of the crew bought their poisons of choice and then we stepped through the crowd we’d managed to attract in the process of our haggling.

I had to stop ogling because we already stood out as tourists and this is not a part of town you want to come to on a solo trip…ever! I mean it. I want to go back because there was so much to see but since I was in the company of four fairly burly guys I was safe. I mean, if you have to order your fries from someone behind a cage from all the fast food joints in the area, you have to watch your back, your front, your sides, heck everywhere!

We got to the matatu stand for the vehicles heading to Naivasha. Oh, if you ever want to go to Namanga, I know where you can a cheap ride to Tanzania. Since none of us could come up with a vehicle, we decided to take a matatu to Naivasha, about 60 miles from Nairobi and from there you could grab another matatu that goes to most of the campsites another 8 – 10 miles along the Lake. The fare was incredibly reasonable 200 shillings which is just under $3 and the matatu drives all the way into the town of Naivasha.

So we paid our fare, jumped in and waited for the matatu to fill up. You’d be amazed at how many people travel to Naivasha every day. And there were loads of tourists too who’d decided to see the country the proper way – jammed uncomfortably in a minivan redesigned to accommodate 14 instead of the luxury tourist package same-sized minivans that sit 6 maximum! Soon we were off and my what a gorgeous afternoon to be heading out of town. The weather has been crappy lately, the rainy/cold season dragging on but Saturday was absolutely wonderful. We left town, headed past Westlands and suddenly, our matatu pulled into a gas station – overheating. Lol, the driver explained that he’d just come from Naivasha, loaded us up and was heading straight back and hadn’t had any time to check the vehicle. So we jumped out, much to the joy of a nearby fruit vendor who made loads selling oranges to some of the passengers. The driver poured buckets of water down the radiator and then pronounced the vehicle fit. We clambered back in and headed off.

That day however, the gorgeous view of the Rift Valley and Mt. Longonot was blocked by cloud cover, fog and what looked like rain in the distance so you couldn’t see the beauty of the plains. We were further dismayed when we realized that the rain was hanging over the area where we would be camping but we refused to let that dampen our spirits. The matatu would stop periodically to let passengers off and pick up people who would materialize out of absolutely nowhere in the bush. It was so weird because the nearest house would be maybe 10 miles away but there were loads of people on the road. It’s actually not safe and I wouldn’t recommend getting in any vehicle that picks up a lot of people on the way because that’s how you get robbed very easily. Even the buses, avoid Akamba or any local long distance bus coach because those will stop even in the middle of the night to pick up people. The coaches I recommend are Easy Coach if you’re travelling toward Nakuru, Eldoret or Kitale and Msafiri if you’re heading down to the Coast and Regional if you’re heading to Uganda or Rwanda. They are express with strict laws regarding picking up passengers haphazardly.

We finally arrived in Naivasha exactly an hour and a half after leaving Nairobi to a drizzling late afternoon. We contemplated taking the shuttle matatu that runs between the campsites but opted instead to hire a cab because it was about 5.30 and apparently the road is really REALLY bad and not very safe when it gets dark. So we squeezed into an ancient ToyoHon (car was made up these parts) and proceeded to drive off. Naivasha still has a sort of colonial feel in some of its architecture and it was really neat to see that historical style. Before we got out of town, we had to stop and get some nyama choma (literally translated – burnt meat i.e. barbecue) So we stopped at the Good Eats Butchery where they hacked off the meat hanging from the carcass and threw it on the grill. They also packed a huge slab of ugali (ground corn meal) and some kachumbari (umm, really good salsa) to go with it and then we were off. Ofcourse I wasn’t going to eat any of that!

On the lakeside, it’s quite disheartening and you get a sense of foreboding because it’s nothing but greenhouse after greenhouse after greenhouse. Wow! People are making money and in the process they’re killing the lake, wildlife and the laborers for roses. I’ll explain why in a bit. But that certainly explained the incredibly heavy traffic on that road. HUGE tractor-trailers thundered down with their thorny load and there were loads of tourist vans as well heading out to the various lodges and campgrounds along the way. And the road…my friend described it perfectly. "It’s like some drunk idiot took a jackhammer and went down the road with no discernible plan or pattern." It’s absolutely awful. I was sandwiched in the back with two of my mates and there were two upfront with the driver and I was glad that I was so wedged in and that my butt couldn’t touch the seat because that car was scraping bottom for at least 5 miles.

Ok, the ToyoHond had no shocks to begin with but the further I saw the upcoming sections of road, the more nervous I became. Potholes…no, not potholes more like craters galore right down the middle and deep ditches on the side that threaten to swallow the car up. Ok, I shouldn’t entirely blame the traffic on the road because that region sees quite a bit of volcanic activity. Nothing visible but something is going on down there so the roads have shifted.

Urghh, have to finish this later. I’m going for my first Kenyan wedding in a few hours and I have to rush home, pick and discard everything I own, exclaim loudly that I have no clothes and then finally settle on the first outfit.

Laters.

Always after Labor Day here

2005-08-19T09:38:00.000-04:00

So I’m finally getting out of the city this weekend. The bummer is that my funds are super limited because Kenyan banking laws are hmm, stupid. Same day banking does not exist, drive thru…well, actually, not a service I’d really want here. Anyway, when I got my first paycheck, I stupidly thought I could cash it with the host bank and then take the money and open up an account with a bank across the street that I really liked. But oh no, there’s no such animal as cashing a check or same day service. The one good thing though is that ATM fees are actually quite reasonable and there are loads of machines all over the city but sorry if you have to go out of town.

Oh another rant: Don’t ever, EVER wear white in the city. I wore this fabulous off white suit today and by 9 this morning, it looked like I’d been to a game reserve and back…. on top of a bus. I was dusty, dirty and pissed because it’s been raining every day and you’d think that there’d be little or no dust but oh no. I’m looking at my very dirty white cuffs and just glad that when it gets dark and if I do go out, then whatever black light in whichever club I’m in will highlight that the shirt I’m wearing is actually white. Grrr.

So tomorrow afternoon, I’m off camping and it will actually be a good thing that I won’t need a credit card with me. I’m heading out with some friends and there is a special someone in the group so it will be really awesome. (insert silly giggle). I honestly can’t wait and are sooo looking forward to saying adios, even if it’s just for less than 24 hours but I’ll be in the wilderness….ok, not really since the campsite we are going to was specifically chosen because it one of their features is free all weekend XBOX and PlayStation games. I’m actually going for the wilderness and to check out what was once a quiet town but is now a sprawling base for the increasing flower industry; particularly because of the vicinity to Lake Naivasha and the climate. Yes my darling friends, next time you plonk down a month’s salary on flowers to send to your sweetheart, just think they may/most likely will have come from Kenya, grown, plucked and packaged by folks who’s own salaries would cover a super-sized Happy meal.

Ok, salary can’t be that bad but you get what I’m implying.

Oh, National Geographic is doing an interesting feature on Africa in the coming issue. The whole point to having a cover without a photo for the first time in a while was because the continent is more than just that – it’s different countries with different issues and is more than civil warfare, disease and corruption (I falter on the last bit though). So check it out – and if you’ve never read this magazine before, shame!

Donkeys and food

2005-08-15T07:56:00.000-04:00

In Blog world I’m sadly the lamest writer ever. Three weeks! Well, it’s a testament as to how incredibly busy I’ve been. Alas, no vacation yet. I actually found myself photocopying an extraordinary amount of work because the heated paper smelled like a sandy beach. Weirdo. I had planned on taking a holiday last week but due to circumstances beyond my control (a.k.a. LIFE) I had to postpone and I was fairly gutted. I desperately need to get out of the city for even just one night. The rains are finally here and what was once dusty (everything) is now muddy and since the roads are a nightmare to begin with in the dry season, imagine what they are when the crater-sized potholes are now mini swimming pools. On the other hand, I’m grateful that I’m not choking on the smog that has enveloped Malaysia. Wow, we really treat our planet like crap. Did you know that they are predicting the snows on Mt. Kilimanjaro will actually have melted away in ten years, that 2/3 of the Great Wall is damaged and/or disappearing and that the Maldives will actually drown if the ocean levels rise by just 1 meter!

My distraction from reality has finally arrived in the form of the English Premier League. I am a die hard Man U lass but will root for even Arsenal when they play next Sunday. My venue of choice to watch the games has become the sports bar that doubles as a strip club on Saturday nights – quite sad but the beer is cheap and they have loads of sports on multi tellys and it’s in a very safe area, quite touristy actually. Anyway, you’ll find loads of serious fans, so not a place to bring a date which is what I observed when I saw a few gals in there looking quite lost and mildly pissed (the drunk and angry variety).

I had no idea Prince William was in Kenya this past weekend. Oh darn, oh well, I'd have probably been the one to lose my big toe as I tried to sneak into his tent.

Oh, my place of the week. Seriously overpriced but has a nice menu. A very Italian coffeehouse called Lavazza on Wabera Street, right opposite Tratorria’s (overpriced but so worth it Italian restaurant – order anything fish and you won’t be disappointed). Anyway, Lavazza’s has a really cool atmosphere, cappuccinos are wonderfully frothy, great coffee choices and they have Italian sodas! But the prices are a bit ridiculous but it’s worth it if you want to avoid the pretentious crowds at Java’s and Dorman’s.

This weekend the newspaper ran the funniest yet cutest article about folks who lose a close family friend – the family donkey and the tragedy that is that loss. It was hilarious and cute at the same time. I lost the link but it detailed how a certain sub tribe is so dedicated to these hardworking creatures that some even host funerals for their dearly departed Asses. The article mentioned one man who upon saying many a teary-eyed word for his loss then threw money into the grave along with samples of items that his dedicated loyal servant had hauled over the years - potatoes, carrots, charcoal etc. Cute story, must find it.

Back to the grind that is work. Laters.

Glorious Food!

2005-07-26T02:17:00.000-04:00

I keep forgetting to mention the food I’ve sampled and the amazing places I’ve been to. Sundays’ are typical for me; if there’s a Formula One race on, you’ll usually find me at GP Karting (go-kart race track, also has an archery section and a big screen – the main building is an open type banda place). The atmosphere is absolutely great for watching racing of any kind, especially with the race-track behind you, full of speeding kids and adults adds to the ambience and the beers are chilled to perfection. It’s also very surreal looking out into the plains of the Nairobi National Park which is right next to it and hoping to catch glimpse of any wildlife. But alas, the numbers are dwindling as Nairobi keeps growing out. Or if the telly is out, we usually go to Choices, a club/restaurant in the Industrial area but it’s too gloomy in there and not as enjoyable. The only plus is the volume, which is on a permanent high.

Yesterday, we went out for our usual race and then off to the boys’ hang out, Kengeles West. They have a live “Kidum” band playing, great music. They do covers but there are some original pieces, music rich with Congolese rhythms and awesome beats. The leader singer, the drummer is a Rwandan who’s mother is Hutu and father is Tutsi…or the other way around, I never remember but a gorgeous voice. A friend joined the gang later but left after a while and since she was going my way, I jumped in with her. Bless her ravenous stomach, she wanted something decent to eat. Now, if I’m with the boys, I know we’ll just stop at a Kenchic somewhere and eat the greasiest drumsticks and fries but she wanted a proper meal.

So we went to Haandi’s restaurant at the Mall in Westlands. It advertises, as selling north Indian cuisine and the food is pretty good. The interior of the restaurant is pretty cool; you can watch the chefs slaving away through the glass window that surrounds the kitchen. The menu is gloriously diverse and you’ll have a wide range of dry and saucy meats and vegetables to accompany the many types of naan. The food is quite hot – heat and spice so be careful if you can’t stomach it. The prices are decent but as is with a lot of restaurants in Kenya, the wine selection sucks. Oh dear, I just googled Haandi and they are all over the place – including Bethesda! Oh wow, the menu is pretty much the same except the Kenyan Haandi has a larger variety and the fillet choices are tilapia and not salmon. Sigh, I do miss salmon.

A place that I will absolutely praise and drool about is called Bahari Bistro (Beach bistro). It’s a Swahili theme restaurant at Adams Arcade here in Nairobi. It’s also next to a Java (Starbucks with sandwiches and salads) When you go in, it looks like a typical café type place but when you actually step into the interior, it’s lush carpets and private eating areas. I was meeting some girlfriends for a pre-going out dinner and JC, who I’m beginning to discover has an extremely discerning taste had found this place. We were in a private curtained-off dining room and when you walk in you take off your shoes and sink down into plush cushions in front of low tables. The lights are dimmed and the music is the typical Taarab music of the coast. The one thing missing was a fireplace because it was actually quite chilly but still nice ambience. The menu is quite simple, lots of pilaus though, coconut flavored meats. I think I fell in love with it because the prices were wonderfully affordable. One draw back (or blessing) no booze. Actually, that whole area (Adam’s Arcade) is trying to go alcohol/smoke-free, a pioneer move that they are close to realizing. They have delicious fresh fruit juices though but you do get the odd twinge when drinking an incomplete Screwdriver. Anyway, a while after we’d ordered, power went out in the building. Generators immediately fired up but the overhead lights didn’t come on and it was actually quite ok because the coastal mood was enhanced by having the whole room lit by the candles flickering all around us. Very nice, total date place. Before the food came, our waiter came around with a pitcher of warm/hot water and a basin for us to wash our hands in and the food followed thereafter…huge servings of simple yet absolutely delicious food. (drooling) I had the coconut chicken and rice, yum, yum, yum. I don’t know what everyone else had because for about 15 minutes it was heads down and eating like we’d never seen food before. It was that good. We hang around for a little while longer and then took off because it was Saturday night.

I shall neglect to mention a certain sports bar in a really nice neighborhood that has loads of big screens and tellys peppering the walls but around 11p.m., strippers come out and join you while you’re watching Brazil v. Argentina.

For late night snacking, if you ever happen to be in Westlands around the roundabout just opposite Gypsy’s (the place has three names, great mixed drinks though.) Pavement, (nice club but fake as hell, the place to go to see loads of Bs.) and Barcode (gets crowded, good music, crowd that likes to see and be seen) There is a food truck right outside quite near the circle and these clubs. Well someone just took a shipping container, spruced it up and offered amazing gyros at about 4 in the morning. The fare is mostly Greek but the staff and owners appear to be Somali….hmmm. This place is not cheap though and they can afford to get away with it because it really is quite good. I don’t remember the name of it but I’ll find out later. They serve gyros and kebabs; my partner got the chicken former and it was quite large and very tasty. It had five different sauces and they blended really well together to form this mouth watering taste experience.

Pizza lovers: Pizza Garden in Westlands offers an awesome menu. But the amount of time it takes to prepare a pizza for dine-in is the equivalent of two delivery trips in a ten- mile journey. They take FOREVER! But the pizza’s great. You almost always have to ask for extra cheese though. R from Sudan will hate me because there’s a gas station food court that serves awesome pizza that I absolutely love and he disses! Lol, Pizza Inn is what it’s called, part of a chain but don’t be surprised if you want to order something and they’re out of one ingredient or the other so in the end, just sigh and say, “what do you have then?”

Ok, enough talk about food. It’s lunch time and I’m starving and now I don’t know what I want to eat.

Why MPs continue to be scum and sorry for being away so long!

2005-07-21T07:21:00.000-04:00

There’s something going on in Nairobi this week and I’m not sure when it will be over. Personally for me, this has probably been one of the worst weeks I’ve experienced since I’ve been here and my need for a vacation has reached crisis mode. On a more serious scale, I think the events starting from last week have started to get down on a lot of people’s nerves. It started with the massacre in the northern part of Kenya – fighting between tribes and it’s all over land and water. It was really weird reading the world headlines and following the stories about the suicide bombers and the fifty or so people who’d died and then reading the local papers – front pages splashed with bloody bodies, empty looks of the survivors among the 80+ who died. And then over the weekend, the idiot bastard MPs once again went on holiday to Mombasa to reach a consensus on a draft because they couldn’t do it in Nairobi. So this week, the city has seen some serious fighting. Monday wasn’t so bad but Tuesday and yesterday were particularly awful.

As a result of my having a incredibly bad day yesterday, I managed to leave the office early (4.30 – very early for me!) and got home just in time to turn on the telly and see people running down the very same streets I’d just been on to get to my matatu. I had wondered why there were so few matatus left at the stage and even waited for one to go without me getting on because it was dirty. Idiot child – had I known there was a full-scale fight between protestors and the police less than a mile away, I would have rushed home much faster. Basically, the demonstrations have been because the idiot MPs want to alter the original draft of the constitution, which will amount to treason if it ever passes anyway.

The people are tired it seems and I honestly see this continuing to escalate. Watching the news last night, seeing police fight with demonstrators – policemen beating people with their rungus batons, bleeding noggins everywhere, cops on horseback thundering down the road in front of parliament. And as is with demonstrations that start out peacefully and end up violent, the looting began. A thief was killed infront of the store he’d just ransacked. I heard horror stories from my office this morning of folks being forced to run to the point of ditching their bags, taxi drivers charging double and getting away with it, hiding in stores, behind counters.

I am safe, well as safe as can be. I’m consoled that this is not just a rampaging group running amok in the city center but instead a legitimate demonstration against ignorant imbecile representatives of the people whose immediate agenda is to fatten up their pockets at the expense of the wanainchi (ordinary folk). They have absolutely lost touch with the people who put them in power and in two years, they will be the same ones on their knees begging to be elected to seats once again and sad to say, most of them will pass. My only advise, avoid dealing with them. They are worse than scum – I say this everyday.

Case and point: www.eastandard.net/hm_news/news_s.php?articleid=25680

‘Nuff said. In case you forgot, “mzungu” is the term for white person and Gor Sunguh is the idiot MP who at one of the numerous holidays in Mombasa, left his gun in the loo after doing a number 2. Yes, shocker, they carry guns, we already knew they were full of crap.

Aside from that, I have a date tonight, that is if there’s no fighting in town. I’ll probably head out to one of the suburbs and have a nice relaxing evening away from reality. I can only stay holed up in my apartment for so long.

Oh J.E from Woo, prepare to come with a large suitcase of stock goodies for me, including – a six pack of bud. That’s what I’m craving. Sad, oui.

GASP! It’s been a month since I touched the blog! Quelle horreur! This is a testament to how busy I am. I’m usually in the office by 7 a.m. and out by 5.30 p.m. and I go in on most weekends for about 4 or 5 hours. The past two weeks, I’ve been leaving the office, 9 p.m. at the earliest…and there’s no such animal as overtime. I make pretty much what I made during my first job in college. LOL. It actually is kinda funny because if I felt sad about it, I’d be in a total slump.

Illicit brews & government crooks

2005-06-27T10:32:00.000-04:00

Ok, so no doubt you’ve read about the recent wave of alcohol related deaths in Kenya lately. Briefly: 45 people have died so far because of an illicit brew that was distributed in various drinking holes in the town of Machakos. The drink, quite common in dodgy places and slums has completely affected surrounding villages as well. "Many of them bought their way the grave with as little as 20 shillings (.25¢) I know and the stories just keep getting worse. Basically most of the partakers fell ill shortly afterward or much later and the true scope of the destruction wasn’t discovered until people started trickling into the nearby hospitals and early the next morning when bodies were discovered in their shacks. The news crews were out en masse and captured some still in the grip of intoxication. This one guy was so wasted he was eating weeds off the side of the road. Hours later the camera crew found him writhing in pain while, complaining of unspeakable stomach cramps and later on, he died.

The drink in question is unfortunately fairly common and because of it’s price, very affordable by the many who can’t afford to buy a pint or two from a reputable place. It is called many names, "Kumi kumi" (meaning ten, ten – 20 shillings) is what this brand is and has many fans because it gets you drunk very fast for a small amount of money. It is sold in clear plastic bags and is quite flammable. What is this drink you ask? Basically, anti-freeze. The chemical make-up is methanol, easily obtained from industries that see little or no regulation or security features and also sold by employees who will make a quick buck. "It’s an industrial solvent for inks, resins, adhesive and dyes. It is used as an anti-freeze, is an ingredient for gasoline and fuel for picnic stoves. Short-term exposure by inhalation or ingestion may result in blurred or dimness of vision leading to blindness." (The Standard www.eastandard.net) Actually, a lot of the victims – about 150 have experienced some form of blindness if not gone completely blind. The victims livers and in some cases their stomachs are destroyed, practically shredded which is why they die in agony.

Sad but so true, a man who’d taken the drinks had told his wife he was feeling awful and that’s when the story came out he knew he had to go to the hospital. He however kept insisting that his wife bring along their one-year old son. She was puzzled but when they got there he confessed to her as well as the doctors that he had in fact given his son a few sips to shush him up as the child had been crying and begging for a taste. Shock and horror, he wasn’t the only dad to have given a child a sip of the beverage. One man also brought in his child as well to be treated.

They were treated with ethanol, which would counter the effects of the methanol. But get this: the hospitals were running out of it so they went out to various wines and spirits stores and bought vodka because "…it was the only antidote for the high level of methanol in the brew that the patients drank." So sad but incredibly true.

The government had a budget briefing a few weeks ago and as a result of some of the new laws and restrictions, alcohol prices could be set by the establishments that sold them as well as other products. So obviously beer prices went up etc. Now, most of these folks couldn’t afford to buy a beer or two to begin with which is why illicit brews reign supreme and no doubt will gain popularity even more because regulated products are less affordable. Of course various government heads are blaming everyone but themselves. The drunks are blaming the government because the economy sucks so they had to resort to taking the brew, their families are blaming the police and area heads because they were aware of the brew being made and did nothing to stop it, the Health minister (a lady I’m beginning to like even less - refer to Kenyatta Hospital incident) says that "these deaths could have been easily avoided" but doesn’t say how…it’s a finger-pointing circus.

Speaking of which, Kenyan MPs are scum. There’s one I know very well and I just found out that an overseas trip, which was paid for by Kenyans, a supposed agricultural forum was in fact a shopping trip for tiles for his new mansion. SICK. And they carry guns as well while preaching about the illegal use of handgus. One MP Gor Sunguh (a deplorable figure) may be charged by the police because he left his handgun in a toilet at a four-star beach resort. Oh yeah, they go on "working" holiday vacations to discuss bills that are pending on the floor! Half of this country can’t afford a decent meal, education, shelter – the basic necessities of life yet this fuckers (sorry ma) continually bitch about not being paid enough (500,000 tax free shillings monthly / about $6,600) Urghh!

Okay. Enough ranting but this is the state of the government today.

So like I said, if you're visiting Kenya and you want to sample authentic Kenyan dishes or culture, avoid anything in a plastic bag for a quarter only.

Boys or men, pizza etc.

2005-06-24T08:10:00.000-04:00

Had pizza for lunch today...I miss Papa John's. It was good but the cheese was lacking. I've been extremely broke this week and super lazy about packing lunches for work so my malnourished wallet forced me to seek out alternative lunch venues. I've grown tired of fries and my face alerted me to that fact by producing a zit with Vesuvian potential. I actually found really nice restaurants with incredibly affordable fare. There's a restaurant called Antonio's near the 680 Hotel, that carries all manner of Mexican themes but don't be surprised by the huge Friends poster in the dining hall. The food is really good and surprisingly cheap. One funny aspect, fajitas, burritos and tacos come in a chapati and not on a tortilla as you'd expect and that's as Mexican as it gets. You can get fish and chips as well, spicy Indian dishes and even some local fare.

But I digress

Ah yes, the topic; a friend who shall rename nameless for a while...Jackie, thinks I'm anti-man. She claims that my entries are a little harsh toward that weaker sex so I feel it necessary to justify myself.

I absolutely adore men, some more than others but I they are the most wonderful, delicious creatures and I would like to take one home one day and cuddle it. Seriously, I love boys/men but I've refused to date while I'm here. Why? Because most (ok, all) the guys I've met (not applying this to every single man in Kenya) are dogs. End of story. I know there are some good ones out there but what's the point of weeding out the bad apples to get to the one good one so I'm just not going to date. Instead, I've become an observer of bad yet quite common, and in some cases acceptable behavior of infidelity among others. I went to a sporting event not too long ago and I kid you not, most of the men I knew there had come with girlfriends and left the wives at home.

You have to remember that most tribes in Kenya have a polygamous (sp?) history so it is quite common to meet first and second wives all over the place. What is unusual for me is my generation engaging in this more and more openly for that matter. What's even worse is that some of the wives are aware of the "sidekick" but they have the house, the ring and whatever else so they are content to let these little indiscretions carry on. And I don't doubt for a minute that she probably has a little action on the side so it's just a vicious infinity link of infidelity with consequences attached.

So you see Jackie, I don't dislike men, the women too are to blame, but I don't have to date them. I mean, this is the era of AIDS etc and piece of rubber is only so effective.

Ok, I'm being preachy, enough. Going out tonight with that a couple of that wonderful species called men. They are absolutely perfect when they are your friends. I'm going to a 6AM party....hmmm. Well, I'll just dance the night away and before I know it, morning will have broken.

Did I mention I miss pizza?

Are they like us?

2005-06-18T06:16:00.000-04:00

Urghh! Neglected this poor journal for so long. Busy, is an understatement as to my life right now. Funnily enough I’ve been keeping busy to stop from feeling lonely. I just realized that you can be surrounded by so many people yet feel so alone at times so I’ve let my work consume me but it has been enjoyable and rewarding at the same time.

Anyway, as a result I’ve been able to interact more with the office messenger whose queries about life in the US, liven up my day considerably. It’s actually quite a change from the questions I was asked about life in America. She is so refreshingly naïve, innocent and beguiled with the illusion of a perfect existence outside of her own fairly dreary reality. Well, dreary from my point of view but it’s all she’s known thus she dreams extensively about what it must be like outside of Kenya.

Here are some of the questions she asks and my responses:

OM: Do people in the US buy mitumba? (second-hand clothing – popular, large markets, refer to other blogs)
Me: Depends. It’s not a large scale there as it is here but there are stores like the Salvation Army where you can buy clothes second hand. I do as well but I prefer to call it vintage. (don’t ask me how I managed to translate vintage into Swahili as most of her queries were posed in the language.)

OM: Are things very expensive there? Like your diet sodas, which you love so much.
Me: Well a can of soda costs about 50¢, which is about 38 shillings. (She winces because a packet of milk or loaf of bread costs about the same so I’m essentially wasting that money every day in her eyes.)

OM: Is food expensive there?
Me: Yes, it can be. Depends on what you buy just like anywhere in the world. I mean caviar is caviar.

OM: What’s kaveeya?
Me: Umm, never mind.

OM: Are there poor people in America?
Me: Heavens yes!

OM: Are they poor like we are?
Me: (Heavy heart) Well, if you have to put poverty on a scale then I’ll say no because over there, the government has many resources to try and help people out. While over here the government is in a mess already and it’s hard enough trying to get the basic essentials to those that need it.

OM: No (she insists), so they are not really poor like some are here.
Me: There are very many poor people in the US and they have the same problems poor people have everywhere. Where is my next meal coming from, I can’t afford books for my kids, I can’t afford to take the bus…poor is poor, it doesn’t matter which country. All I’m saying is that you can actively see the government trying to help people out.

OM: Do they have the street kids that go around sniffing glue harassing people?
Me: Well, in small town America where I was, no. But big cities have, umm…people like that, not really street kids and believe me glue is not the drug of choice.

OM: Oh, drugs like miraa (mild hallucinogenic you chew, legal and common), and bhang (weed).
Me: Haven’t seen any miraa there but yes there is bhang but that’s not the drug that you see as causing problems. There are problem drugs like cocaine, crack, meth and other things.

OM: (blank stare)
Me: Umm, well, if you’ve never heard of them then that’s good.
(The day crack hits Nairobi - if it hasn’t already, I think that will be the epidemic that supercedes all.)

OM: Did you have wazungu (white) friends in the US?
Me: And black as well, yes I had friends, they aren’t black or white.

OM: Did you hang out with your wazungu friends?
Me: All the time, also with my black friends.

OM: But I hear that Kenyans have a hard time making friends with wazungus.
Me: Well, I imagine that it’s the same everywhere and doesn’t matter whether you’re white or black and if it does it’s wrong, it should be about who you are. (I knew I was coming off as a public ed-service but I really wanted her not to thing along those lines.)

OM: Did you have a boyfriend?
Me: Yes I dated.

OM: Did you ever date a white man?
Me: Yes

OM: Wow, you’re lucky.
Me: Why would you say that?

OM: The way I see it, if a white man is interested in you then that’s good because you can marry him and leave here. You have to be very beautiful to date a white man. You’re lucky.
Me:

OM: You don’t see the girls around here, the ones I know. When they meet a white man, they get married and leave and their life is better. The men here are stupid. They cheat, are unfaithful and they leave you if you get pregnant.
Me:

Me: Do me a favor and stop thinking like that. Marrying a white man does not solve your problems. And by the way, I know plenty of white men who cheat, are unfaithful and will leave you the minute you say "baby".

OM: Still, you’re lucky.
Me: (sigh) I have to work.

The thing that catches me about all this is that she’s not the only one that thinks like this. I haven’t even gone to my rural area where my true home is where (hate this word) ignorance is even larger. Most of the gathered knowledge about life in "Amrika" is from media. And it bites that some of the shows running on a regular basis are Divorce Court, The Bachelor (gag), Oprah (at least the newer ones) and if you wanted to know where all the UPN pilot season shows ended up…. There’s also a huge pirate DVD industry. I can already watch Mr. & Mrs. Smith in the comfort of my home if I wanted to. And it will probably be lumped into one disc with four other movies.

I got out of Nairobi last weekend and went to a friend’s farm and I can’t tell you how refreshing that was to get out of the city. I’m planning on going to Lamu or Diani, haven’t decided yet for the 4th weekend. Yeah, yeah, I’m in Kenya now but there’s something that just dictates enjoy the 4th. Is that incredibly unpatriotic of me to continue to celebrate and relish the freedom of an adopted country whilst in my native one? Hmm…

Fair and Lovely

2005-06-05T06:10:00.000-04:00

Ok, having no satellite telly on weekends bites. You're stuck watching the enormous amounts of crap they put on Sunday mornings. There's quite a lot of religious programming on the networks and since I'm such a rotten church goer, it's zzzz the morning away or make an incredibly large unhealthy breakfast. I was watching cartoons and at some point saw the most ignorant, stupid and obnoxious commercial ever. It starts out with a pretty black girl getting ready for an interview. You can tell it's with an airline as there are the obligatory posters featuring various Euro land marks, shots of planes and pilots walking by casually in full uniform. The girl goes infront of a panel of interviewers and looks uncomfortable while they carefully study her face. They then barely glance at her resume all the while shaking their heads in disapproval. She then leaves the room and is standing outside when she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a 10 shilling coin. She holds it in her hand and the narrator asks, "What can you get for 10 shillings?" The coin then turns into a pink packet of the product called Fair and Lovely, a skin lightening cream they claim removes splotches and dark marks on the face. They show her face getting lighter in a matter of weeks and then she's off to interview again and the panel is all smiles and yay and next thing you know, she's a flight attendant with a bright smile.

I'd understand the commercial if they had a model who had obvious blemishes and the cream supposedly corrects uneven tones. But when you put a gorgeous girl who looks perfect as she is and only flaw is having dark skin....what kind of message are you sending out. Also, to have such an ad run early mornings....during cartoons, when young impressionable girls will get the message that having dark skin is bad. Maybe I'm reading into it too much but the ad just looked stupid and it pissed me off. Also growing up, I remember awful stories of women who'd wash their faces with bleach in the hopes of looking lighter. WTF yes I know but sad, sad, sad.

But then again you'd ask what's a grown ass woman doing watching cartoons on Sunday morning instead of being productive like setting foot in a church to pray for having a sinfully wicked weekend....I was eating that deliciously greasy breakfast.

Laters

Silly Girl

2005-06-03T01:59:00.000-04:00

Life is settling down slowly if not unevenly. Everyone keeps asking me how I’m doing, how things are and while I’m confident in my reply, I’m hesitant in admitting that it’s still a challenge. In many ways I led an extremely comfortable and easy life before coming back here and that totally ruined me. The loss of DSL, privacy, safety, independence, being able to go anywhere at any time...the list is endless but those are the adjustments that I make on a daily basis. I did something very foolish the other night. I went to meet someone and instead of having him pick me up, I told him I’d meet him at the restaurant we were to dine at. I took a matatu as I couldn’t find a cab near my apartment right away and I was already late and figured I'd save some bucks. Now the route this matatu takes goes very near the place I wanted to go but it doesn’t go all the way and instead turns around and goes to town. I normally pick up another matatu heading the other way and they frequently ply the route so I don’t wait that long.

Not quite the same story at night. I asked the driver to drop me off at that intersection but he said quietly realizing that I was a foreigner to the parts that it would not be safe. So he took me further along but not all the way because he had passengers and dropped me off in the middle of the highway. He said that I needed to be extremely careful because there were many thugs and street boys who slept in the ditches that lined the highway and the long barrier that separated the six lanes of traffic. He told me to walk right down the middle and walk fast. So I set off, heart hammering in my mouth, running in boots. I musta looked ridiculous but I didn’t bother asking anyone if my makeup was ok. I flew down that highway and almost sobbed with relief when I saw a tall school kid walking slowly ahead on the other side. I crossed the highway (very bad idea when there’s no speed limit, no street-lights and only the headlights of oncoming vehicles to guide you) and got safely to curb. I slowed down and walked behind him, feeling even safer when I saw an old woman carrying some bags walk behind me. As I neared the restaurant I slapped my hand and called myself stupid because I was. As much as I’d like everything in my life to stay constant, my actions will determine that state of matter. What I did was stupid, stupid, stupid and I’m ashamed I let my guard down and risked my safety just so I could save a few shillings. Idiot child. Next time I'm cabbing like crazy.

Form is temporary, class is permanent

2005-05-28T02:37:00.000-04:00

Ok, apologies about the "subscription" issues. Also, my grammar is pathetic. I get very passionate recounting these stories and my mind goes faster than my fingers so I make stupid errors like "there" and "their" "us" and "as". Forgive me, I'll have my sis edit it at some point because she has DSL and I have 2K dial-up.

Liverpool, not a fan but you got game.

So this Wednesday presented the fitting end to an amazing football season and somewhat made up for the FA miss. (Even though we all know Manchester United are the greatest football team on earth and it doesn't matter if Crazy Glazer is on board). I had to work late yet again so joined B2 for a drink after work and catching up with the day. Urghh, those that know me will not believe what a market geek I've become. I mean we talked about the market for 2! hours and every turn of the corner I had another question about expanding my portfolio zzzzzzzz. Anyway, was fun, we debated staying in town to watch the game but we opted to head to the watering hole near our apartment.

Got home, slightly hiccupy at 10 pm which is when the game was and much to our delight, it was on pretty much on all the channels. (I can hear my poor one-soccer-channel stricken sister screaming.) So we tucked in to enjoy the best battle it out. Let me just say, at half time, I'd talked to B1 who was all the way on the other side of town on the verge of a heart attack. Liverpool were down a spectacular 3 - 0 in a game that looked all Italia and he being the Liverpooladdict that he is was practically sobbing with despair. I promised him a beer the next time we meet, he insisted on a massive dose to counter the tragedy he was witnessing. B2 had just bought a new phone that day so that became the focus of all his attention while I watched the game thinking of what I would watch after the season ended. And then 1, 2, 3, the goals came at such an alarming rate and there was a game. I went out onto my balcony and you could hear the whole neighborhood screaming. Lol, any football fan can come to Kenya and feel right at home because Kenyans love, and I mean LOVE this game. Forget runners, yes we appreciate, respect and follow them but ask a Kenyan to name the statistics of our local heroes and they'll fail. Ask them where Henri is from and they will spout off not only his birthplace, but they will accurately name the street he lived on, describe his first training session and go into details about his style of game etc.

So I would pop out occasionally and listen to the craziness that was going on in the neighborhood at midnight now. Glory, awesome game, went into penalties. I stood on my balcony, door open so I could get the reaction on the outside as well. It was pandemonium when Dudek saved that last ball. I mean screams, yells, shouts, craziness. Oh, damn but I do love that game.

Ok, server died, saving this on disk, will publish later. Sigh. Well it is Friday and I AM determined to find a karaoke joint somewhere. I'm craving flat beer, bad music and...lol, was going to say Nachos but have yet to find those. Wish me luck, I will be screeching somewhere in Nairobi tonight.

Bendy Stick Man for Prez!

Yum Day

So sorry!

2005-05-26T01:28:00.000-04:00

I changed the settings, anyone can comment now. I'm getting a chatterbox as well on the side. Progress! Sorry once again.

Kenyatta National Hospital Crisis

2005-05-25T09:29:00.000-04:00

Hey guys, really sad story but true. All about money and how people are just not getting paid. The national hospital, Kenyatta warned of a pending strike about two weeks ago and were not taken seriously and as a result, ordinary citizens are the ones to suffer because once again, the oh so competent government is either dragging its heels or not listening to the people. Trend here? Anyone?

http://www.eastandard.net/hm_news/news.php?articleid=21256

Of Tweed Coats and Toilet Paper Part 2

2005-05-24T00:28:00.000-04:00

So after the ceremony, we all went out into the garden, still a very pleasant afternoon. We sat around and chatted about the ceremony, I asked people about other ceremonies they’d heard about or experienced. There was one family insisted on half a million shillings ($6,600) for their daughter and the man had to pay it. These are of course the more wealthy to do families where such requests are not unheard of.

Anyway, as the afternoon progressed, B2 and I were checking our watches, anxious to hit the road so that we could get to the pub in town where we’d planned on meeting some friends and watching the game. (The game being the FA cup final between Arsenal and Manchester United.) We didn’t bother to hide that fact with B1 and Bf and Bw was ready to leave as well. But B1 was hesitant about offending the new fiancée by suggesting he leave early to go watch a game. Be warned future Mr. Crazy Kenyan, whoever you are, our life will revolve around a sports schedule including weddings, births of children, graduation etc. She is a Chelsea fan…go figure. She already had two pieces of silver on her cabinet while we were scrapping for one. Anyway, when the topic came up about an hour later, 20 minutes before kick-off, she was indeed quite offended. She came out roaring, "Will you die if you miss this game?" B2, Bw and myself were screaming "yeah" in our minds but we kept quiet. So we sat outside, enjoyed some beverages, promising ourselves we’d get the second half. By now it was almost six in the evening and the festivities showed no signs of letting up. Most of the representatives from our side had already left because where they had to go, the roads became impassable once the rains came. It is the rainy season right now in Kenya and since a lot of the roads in rural areas are dirt tracks, they become rivers of mud even after a few minutes.

We were now looking heavenwards, pleading I think for a few drops to fall in order to hasten our departure. Meanwhile, our friends from various watering holes around the country kept calling, "Are you watching this game? It’s awesome, wow, did you see that?" and then hanging up. Grrr. At about 6.30 we concluded that we were probably going to miss the game but since it was bound to be a nail-biter, it might go into penalties so we’d catch that action instead. (How prophetic). Finally, the sky opened up and we took that us our cue and loaded up into two vehicles: both Bs in a pick up truck and myself and Bf and Bw in a Mercedes. We waved goodbye and proceeded down the driveway. That inside 25-degree angle corner to the main road was suddenly a challenge. The merc sits very low so there was a lot of scraping of the bottom. It was quite dark now and the rain was pouring much harder. The pick-up having better traction and what we discovered less fogging of mirrors took off at an impossible pace and pretty soon we found ourselves slipping and sliding in the mud. Thank God for cell phones. All of us had them so we took turns calling the Bs and telling them to slow down. We got to one point where we got thoroughly stuck and called them to come back, but they’d just taken a particularly bad corner and there was no way they could make it back because it would have been an up-hill battle.
So we managed to slide out and came to the corner in question and found B2 standing in the rain in his suit and soon to be infamous tweed coat, waving us over to a better section to navigate. We told them they had to slow down because we needed their backlight to figure out which way to go. So begun a slow arduous journey back to the main road…. not even the city. We just wanted to kiss tarmac.

Well, it wasn’t going to be for a while. The road was horrible. It was so bad, I would actually prefer to drive on ice. Ok, maybe not true. (Christmas 2004…wow) We tried our best to keep up with the pick up but their traction was way better and we just kept sliding all over the place and getting stuck. After about half an hour, we realised we’d only gone less than a mile and it looked like other vehicles, few and far between were having their own problems. Whenever we got stuck and a vehicle was coming up behind or ahead of us, they had to gun their engines and speed through where we were bogged down and by the time they were through, the road was in worse shape so they couldn’t backtrack to help. We tried calling the people who we knew were still at the party but the signal was so spotty and couldn’t quite get through. The bitter pill was that our friends back in Nairobi, safely and warmly ensconced around big screens could call us screaming out exciting plays of the game which had now gone into extra time. Figures I would miss the most exciting game of the season.

Oh yeah, don’t drink beer if you suspect you will be caught in a torrential downpour and driving through mud. We all had to pee, frequently which was no problem for the boys, bushes and darkness are a plenty. For Bw, and myself not such an easy issue to address. For one, you really don’t want to go into any Kenyan bushes to pee, not because of creatures but because of the plants. There’s a stinging plant called Kimelit that can cause a burning itchy sensation whenever your skin comes into contact with its broad leaves. It’s quite indigenous in that part of the country so we had no choice but to pee whenever we got stuck (all the time) and right in front of the car because itchy stinging butts (good band name?) were not on our agenda. I was worried because of approaching cars and for some reason, people decided to ride their bicycles at night with no flashlights so you never had a warning. So all of a sudden, you’d attend to nature’s call, in front of the headlights of the lead car or at the back of the stuck car and a whistling cyclist would squeak by, almost crashing when they realised there was someone attending to some urgent business. Lol. Bw told me to stop fussing; it wasn’t like I’d see these folks again. What I couldn’t understand was the fact that it was raining heavily…I’m talking about Singing in the Rain Hollywood rain where you get drenched in a matter of minutes. Yet it seemed the ideal time to take the bike out for a ride.

Bf, quite the pessimist, who was already calculating sleeping arrangements in a pick-up and merecedes for the night in the middle of nowhere, kept sliding forward then said something that made our hearts lurch. "We have a flat." We couldn’t believe it. It was raining buckets and on top of getting stuck, we had a flat tire. So I called the pick up and told them to stop, about 200 metres ahead. They did and we all got out and they started to change the flat. More pee breaks. They were actually quite good, taking care of it in less than five minutes and we were soon on our way…for 100 metres and then got hopelessly and irretrievably stuck. B2 came over and I got out of the merc and went toward the other vehicle, with the honest intention of looking for a rope. I started to look in the back when I realised the game was on the radio and oh my, it was a penalty shootout. I looked back discreetly at the other car and realised no one was watching me so I hopped in and turned the radio up, my ears glued to the commentary in Swahili. Lol, "Cole anachukuwa mpira, amaweka chini, ana rudi nyuma, ana rudi nyuma, anaenda mbele, ana piga…. Goal!!" (Cole takes the ball, he puts it down, he steps back, moves back, runs forward, he shoots….Goal!) I punched the steering wheel angrily, tooted the horn accidentally and my companions realised I was playing hooky and yelled at me to find some damn rope. So I pretended to look for rope by climbing out and looking behind the seat, my skirt now saturated. I kept my ears glued to the game, rooting around for nothing and my heart dropped when I realised we were a goal down. I glanced over and saw B1 coming through the rain. I hastened my search and yelled out, "I’m still looking for…Goal! Yes! I mean, rope, is there any?"

B1 jumped in the car and realised what I was doing and started to berate me but then Arsenal prepared to take the fourth shot. He too looked around and shut the door and said, "It’s almost over, let’s just listen." I saw the other car hopelessly spinning its wheels but the bad crazy Kenyan that I was, was determined to listen to at least the last few minutes of the game I should have been watching comfortably from the confines or a watering hole. Anyway, the loser team won, we lost but as Pele said, "You can play the better game but only the champions create the winning shots." Or something like that. I got out of the car and yelled, "We lost!" to no one in particular and Bf screeches back, "Who gives a flying f$#! We’re sleeping here!" B2 scrambled over again to the lead car, "Do you have toilet paper? I need tissue paper, toilet paper." I kept asking for what and he ran back to the other car, "Tissue paper, do you have any?" At this point the sheer absurdity of the whole trip and his request made us quite hysterical with laughter. "What do you need it for?" He then kept asking for his Tweed jacket, which he must have taken off and didn’t know where he’d put it so asking for both at the same time had us in stitches. We asked and after five minutes of this garble he said, "My glasses, I can’t see." Really quite sad because he honestly couldn’t see but when he kept asking for it we thought he had a call of nature emergency, not a spectacle issue. I was in the truck with B1 and he kept murmuring, "I’m going to have to hit it, I have to." "Hit what?" I asked but he kept saying it over again without clarifying.

B2 ran back again, "Newspapers! Lots of them. We get newspapers and twigs and we put them under the tires, they’ll get traction." We both looked at him like he’d lost his mind and he kept repeating his requests and we said, "Take them, take the tennis racket in the back as well if you think that will help." At this point I began to think maybe the boys had lost it because one was murmuring about hitting a car and the other one intended to go pull twigs off wet trees and find newspaper to put under the tires of car that was practically submerged in a red river of mud. B1 then called Bf and said, "I’m coming in from behind, be ready!" Yes, any other day, I would have laughed at that comment but I realised he truly was going to hit his own car from behind. (Btw, we’d only gone less than 5 miles and still had about 10 to go on this road before we hit the main highway.)

So I jump into the pick-up, having traded places with B2 and strapped myself in. We did a 20 point turn (not kidding, stop laughing) and drove back slowly over the same treacherous spot that had claimed the mercedes. We came in from behind, hard and rammed into the back and….nothing. The wheels on both cars spun, kicking up mud so it felt like it was raining from above and below. Our car started to slide, sideways so our bumper took on a 45-degree angle, engine still revving, tires spinning and the merc going nowhere. B1 kept ramming into the back, we’re all yelling incoherently at both cars to move and finally, it did, pulling out of the suction that had trapped it and slipping and sliding yet forward. Except the pick up was now stuck. Lol, there was no way we were going to get help from the other car so B1 gunned it and mercifully, it got out of the grooves that had claimed it and we powered on, toward the bushes as we were facing the side of the road. Stop laughing. He quickly turned around and we got out of it and went ahead of the other car as their windows were completely fogged up now and needed our rear lights.

We kept looking for signs of light but we couldn’t see any. There’s no electricity to many of the rural areas, again another political thing (the government has failed to address that, incompetency being their motto) So no street lights, signs or indications as to where we were. I remember reading the signs of different shops on the way earlier that afternoon so I was looking for the first Relax Hotel. (there were two within a mile and hotel is a loose term for a two room tin shack.) I need to do an entry about the various names Kenyans have been creative with in naming their enterprises. Really inventive, like the Internet Butchery, or the Battery Chaching shop (The locals, particularly Kalenjins will get that last one.) Anyway, I finally spotted the first Relax Hotel and yelled out to B1 that we were not far from a tiny shopping centre that was home to the other Relax Hotel and within a few miles of the main road. Sure enough, we pass the centre and were all greatly cheered. The poor folks in the merc were freezing however because the car had began to die a slow electrical death. Too much water must have seeped in at some point so the radio died first, then the lights started to dim so they had to switch off everything that wasn’t in use in order for the lights to function and the car to keep running. Up ahead in the pick-up, I’d began to curse my future in-law because we’d missed the game, were thoroughly drenched, had a bum vehicle and had not seen the main road yet. On top of that a school bus, was approaching from the other side of the hill we were starting to descend, right down the middle and he was not, going to give way. The driver stopped right dead centre, his light glaring at us and refused to budge. The problem was the water running down hill had formed deep gullies on either side of the road so there was no way both vehicles could pass. The idiot however gave us little room to pass and insisted since we were the smaller vehicle, we had to go first. So we did, very gently and carefully, all the while cursing at him. The merc mercifully made it as well but only after the battery had died and had to be charged.

About 10 minutes later, I looked over to my left and saw lights wheezing by. "The road! I see the road!" B1 tried to call the car behind us but his battery was in the process of a slow painful death. Both Bf and Bw had run out of credit on their phone and B2’s phone was already dead. I had Kshs. 80 on my phone ($1.10) and each call costs 10 shillings per minute. Lol, do the math; so I had to be conservative because I didn’t know whether we would have another emergency. We still couldn’t call anyone at the party and I’d sent text messages earlier saying, "STUCK BADLY, NEED HELP!" of which no one replied to. Oh well, we made it out and we sped toward the city. The back car shivering miserably, the lead car worried now about fuel. I didn’t realise the merc had a problem with fuel as well because ¾ of the way there, they overtook us and pulled us over into what looked like a gas station…no lights anywhere so you really can’t tell. Pumping is done by hand. Bf, resident pessimist, said he wasn’t sure if there was enough gas but we decided to just keep driving, if it died, we’d still be closer to the city and a few minutes ride in the back of a now smelly pick-up would be fine.

Glory, glory, 2 ½ hours later from start to finish, town lights came into view and I could even hear the audible sigh of relief in the back. We stopped at a gas station that was open 24/7 and filled up both cars and dropped the flat to be fixed. We drove on to our hotel which I called a hovel the day before but represented paradise and all things warm and comfortable to me now. Our bedraggled crew came into the main area and the receptionist burst into laughter. We looked at ourselves and had to smile. Bw had lost broken the straps on her shoes in the first push-the-car effort, Bf was complaining of wet underwear because of the amount of water that went in while he changed the flat, B1 was soaking wet and muddy all over, B2 was complaining about his tweed jacket and the fact he’d only brought one pair of shoes for the whole trip. (My luggage was extra heavy because of my boots but I was the only one there with dry footsies. Ha!) My calls to nature in the middle of the road had left my wonderful khaki skirt with red mud all over the place and my shirt, also spotty was quite red. My wonderful boots were caked with mud from heel to calf. We all took off to our rooms, had incredibly uplifting hot showers and ran to the hotel bar for much needed "Hunder’s Whiskey." (Hunter’s Whiskey…again, a Kalenjin thing)

At this point, we recounted the evening with much laughter, so much so there was a lot of back-slapping, tears running and frequent choking. We tried to text the people we’d left behind to tell them not to come but they’d now received my frantic calls for help so had decided to leave and just come back to town as most were staying in the area. They too got stuck occasionally, though not as bad as we did but showed up much later. The following morning we woke up still chuckling and met up at the vehicles which had now been wiped down. The dents at the back of the merc were quite impressive and the truck had survived fairly well. B2, who’d insisted I was carrying too many shoes was now left with only a pair of sandals as his only pair of shoes were completely soaked. So off he trudged into town, on Sunday to go find a pair of shoes. He came back a few minutes later with a remarkably hideous pair, which he found for only 200 shillings at one of the four Indian shops that were still open. Shy at first, our model warmed to our laughter and soon began to pose for the camera phones saying, "No paparazzi!" Lol, he did look good.

Still laughing when I think about it now but my story is just typical of what happens during the rainy season. Not so funny though when you’re in the middle of nowhere by yourself.
The drive back to Nairobi was uneventful, I got to see my animals again! We drove straight to our F1 pub to watch the Monaco grand prix. If the race wasn’t as exciting as it turned out to be, we would have pooled under the tables and gone right to sleep. We were absolutely exhausted and fatigued but too much life had already interfered with sports and damn it, I was going to enjoy the race, even though I had to prop my eyes open with my fingers.

Of Tweed Coats and Toilet Paper Part 1

2005-05-23T10:45:00.000-04:00

So the whole purpose of traveling to Eldoret was for B1's engagement to his girlfriend. The tradition in most tribes in Kenya is that when a couple intend to get married eventually, they first get betrothed but through an arrangement between the families first. The idea behind it is that if the bride has a problem with the groom and vice versa, they'll have the support of their in-laws and could go to them for help. B1 and bride are both from the same tribe (different dialect) but the customs and traditions were similar. The groom traditionally comes with members of his family and a negotiator to meet with representatives of her family and their negotiator and her relatives. The tradition dictates members of the family sit down to discuss the dowry and they haggle back and forth, (not unlike bargaining over meat but the significance being a daughter is being taken away from the home, what is she worth you taking her away.)
So Saturday found as smartly dressed, my original crew was now joined by and aunt and uncle and cousin from the city. We were to meet up with my father and he was coming with a convoy from our traditional home with relatives and close family friends who'd known the "boy" (B1) since he was a kid and they could vouch for him.

As is with my tribe, they were late, very late. We were supposed to meet up at 11 and at 12.30 whatever breakfast I had, had long disappeared and my tummy was rumbling. Finally we left and upon asking, I was told she lived about 15 miles away from the town. LIES! Never ask a Kalenjin how far something is because they'll always say, "Ni hapa hapa tu!" It's just here.... here being relative. Mind you, we're runners so "just here" is usually an underestimation of about 10 miles. So naturally 30 miles later we found ourselves at the turnoff to her home. The ceremony was being performed at her older brother's place as her parents are quite old and so he was elected the representative. Had it been done at her place, we would have been there and back in less than two hours for her mother (a third wife) lived closer to the city.

So we get off the tarmac road and instantly on a dirt track. And this is the red soil kinda track. It hadn't rained in a while so I sat there in the back seat choking on dust from the three cars ahead of us and filling sorry for the eight cars behind us. Once again, I was told that the house from the main road was just a few kilometers. LIARS! It was another half-hour of winding dirt track, through gorgeous land I must add. I was so giggly when I saw a lamb running toward its mother to immediately drop to its knees and start suckling without saying hello. Lol, was so cute and I kept saying "Moo Cows!" ( a Woo thing) and once again, I was the butt of a lot of jokes in my car. Anyway, we choke on for a while and finally the lead car stopped dead in the middle of the road. Then he started to make what I thought was a U-turn but oh no, he was turning left up an impossible angle to a grass driveway completely camouflaged by tall hedges that came out of nowhere. Imagine you’re making a turn inside a 25-degree angle.

We pull in, wait for all the vehicles to park. I got to see many relatives whom I hadn’t seen in a long while and they were equally as happy. I then started to walk through the gate but my step-ma stopped me and told me that we had to be called by her family. So we chatted for a bit, my father was still staring at me strangely because for once I was wearing a skirt, albeit with stiletto boots. They were cute damn it!

Finally, we were summoned and so we trooped in. There were about thirty of us in total, not unusual for this occasion. We were led to the end of the garden of a really pretty house that’s well hidden from the main road. They had placed chairs facing the house and we were invited to sit down. So we did, still talking quietly. I asked why no one had come to greet us and I was told they were surveying us from the house, seeing first of all whether we were really worth talking to. After an HOUR, someone came out and told informed us they wanted twelve representatives from the family. Naturally father went, the groom to be, brother, various uncles and two aunts at least. They went in, we sat outside, still a nice day so far. We talked some more, I inquired as to what they would demand as far as bride price. It varies with most tribes, some especially the Maasai require a large amount of cattle as their wealth is measured by the number of cows they have, followed by children….don’t ask. Ok, do but I’ll explain later. A friend of ours from another tribe said all they wanted were five goats, and one was roasted that day. Lol, Bf and Bw were telling me about their Luhyia traditions. He had to go twice to her compound, before they entertained him and even then they gave him a hard time. Lol, his friend had to go get her from her parents house after the ceremony had ended and after shelling out Kshs. 50,000 (about $650), they still wouldn’t release her so he threw them his Visa card and begged them to come so he could take her to her new home. The traditions vary between tribes but they are more along the same lines of the groom’s family and friends having to cajole her out of the house with cash, cattle etc.

So we sat there for about 20 minutes and one of my uncle’s came out of the house and called Bf, two other family friends and yours truly. I shook my head and was told to go. I was going to get checked out because they wanted to see that there were other girls in the house and also if maybe they had a boy on their side I could be paired up with. Lol, lol. This is all purely cosmetic but the tradition is important. So off I went into the house, quite large actually. We were let to the living room where there were now about 40 people from both sides present. The negotiation was done primarily in Kalenjin but you could get the gist of it. A cousin was translating for me silently. Her family wanted 5 cows and 20 sheep. Our negotiator thought that was too much so instead they settled on 3 cows and two bulls (which to me sounded way more than 20 sheep because quality studs are hard to find….pretty much the same in life, huh girls?)

They argued and haggled and finally settled down on the cattle and a cash payment of Kshs. 5000 (about $65). Then the negotiator on their side asked where we’d come from and we told them what home village and incredibly he gave back 1000 shillings "…ya mafuta." "For gas to get back home." LOL, I couldn’t believe it. But then I understood that, that was only part of it. We now had to bring "gifts". Blankets for her father, the negotiator and especially for her mother. There was also the extra money given to the negotiator for bargaining quite reasonably. Oh yeah, technically my brother should have been "fined" because he and the girl already have a child, so he owes her family as technically, she’s still under their roof and his child was an extra mouth to feed. Lol, but they didn’t. Now with B2, his girlfriend is from another tribe and there is a hefty fine to pay for his son. Lol, that should be interesting. Her folks are quite traditional, such that my step ma had to shave the infants head within a month of his birth as that is the custom in B2’s girlfriend’s tribe.

After all the negotiations were done, they brought out fresh cow’s milk and a traditional milk called Mursik which is milk that is curdled in a gourd that’s scrubbed with charcoal. It ferments over some days and then is served. It really is quite good. My new in-law now served her father’s family first to show that she’d crossed over so the milk signified the deal by her showing respect to her family (the new one). By the way, throughout the ceremony my future in law would not look at me and when she caught my eye she would ignore me or look away blankly because technically she didn’t know me. It was after the deal was done that she acknowledged me. Lol, my brother kept complaining about the price but it was all in good fun.

We then went out and told the rest of the family that a deal had been struck and our side gained a daughter. They served us an incredibly delicious lunch; I had to find a spot to eat separately because I was starving and I don’t look good eating on an empty stomach….or so I’ve been told.

Urgh, have to continue this later, it’s getting dark, hafta get home. I’ll finish this tomorrow but enjoy for now.

Now I know why tourists visit.

2005-05-23T08:35:00.000-04:00

So I had quite the adventure this weekend. I'm going to break this blog down in two parts simply because there's so much about it. So on Friday, had the day off work which was part yay and part urghh because I hate missing even an hour of work. So much happens and today is Monday and I feel so out of the loop. Anyway, I didn't even know how I would get to Eldoret, which is where we were headed. I'd say it's about oh, 250 miles north-west of Nairobi. We (2 brothers - B1, B2, B1's best friend and his wife Bf & Bw) decided the night before over much needed beers as we'd been running around trying to get things finalized. Bf and I decided to take a bus that would leave Friday morning at 8 am and B2 and Bw would take the evening bus that day as they both couldn't get off work early. B1 was going to drive himself as he had loads of errands to run before hand and wasn't sure when he would be coming.

Friday morning, up way before the roosters, packed (forgot deodorant....as usual because B2 was rushing me out the door. We picked up Bf and Bw and drove to the bus station. We left super early because it's located somewhere on Haile Selaisse Avenue, which has the world's worst traffic and for no apparent reason. Seriously, it gets log jammed and when you finally squeeze through, there was no point to the traffic in the first place. Anyway, we went to buy the tickets, which were incredibly reasonable. 500 Kshs (which according to Fx rate on Friday is about $6.50). We couldn't get the 8 am to Eldoret but we could take the 10 am to Kitale, which is about 50 miles further but stops in Eldoret. We had time to kill so we actually left a luggage with B2, as B1 would pick it up later and bring it with him and save us the agony of lugging our clothes around. We had an awful breakfast at the Green Corner restaurant. (I will mention the names of places where service and/or food sucks in hopes that they may improve, which I doubt, but also as cautions to visitors). Their lunches btw can be good but avoid the breakfast unless you want to be disappointed.

Anyway, walked around Nairobi for a while as we still had a while to kill. Unfortunately, everyone seems to sense that you're getting ready to leave town and suddenly the phones start ringing and emergencies crop up all over the place. I left Bf (an attorney) on his cell phone and decided to check into work to leave some last minute instructions. Big Mistake. Never, ever go to the office when you're on holiday because you'll get bogged down. I did but it made the time fly and when I joined up with him later, still on the phone, we jogged back to the bus station and barely made it. Jumped on the bus and at exactly 10, we were off. Btw, we used Easy Coach, excellent service, they leave on time and unlike many of their competitors do not make any unscheduled stops. Their buses are clean and there's a conductor/assistant driver who maintains the peace and most importantly keeps the driver awake. They also search all passengers prior to boarding to discourage would-be thugs etc so it's one of the safer alternatives.

Leaving Nairobi was quite enjoyable. Relishing everyone very much in the rat race of life when you're finally relaxing is a mean but pleasant tonic to your own busy schedule. We cruised through Nairobi, into the outskirts where the area is very crowded, poor and slum like at some stages. Leaving the city, you'll notice how dirty it can get, even it there was a torrential downpour the night before. Bf finished his calls and settled down to read his book. I chose to enjoy the view as I hadn't seen/appreciated it in ages. The overcrowded houses and shops soon give way to lush, fertile farms and by the roadside are many farmers selling their crop. Cabbages, carrots, rhubarb, potatoes, pears, oranges....the variety is endless and you can always bargain. The prices are already ridiculously cheap compared to the city grocers and are quite fresh. The only thing you have to worry about is chemicals if any were used. The one thing I noticed was as we passed the many small shambas (farms), if you looked closely you'd realize that most if not all the people working on them were women. And usually you'd see their children helping or if they were too young, sitting beside there very busy mothers. What was alarming was when you'd pass the small little villages, you'd find so many men sitting in the shade, watching buses and other vehicles go by, some chewing miraa (herbal hallucinogenic which is quite legal) or some even napping. You'd see sagging benches with men just chatting the morning away while the women broke their backs. Go figure; they're not kidding when they say women are the backbone of Africa.

As you head north-west toward Nakuru, which is the only stop before Eldoret, the view gets
unbelievable. It's the rainy season so the landscape is a gorgeous green with occasional dry patches. Let me just say, you really have to visit Kenya. The country's landscape is absolutely stunning. Making your way toward Naivasha, Mt. Longonot (which I climbed when I was a kid) is revealed. The road is a sweeping drive between hills and into small valleys and in the beginning you get glimpses of the terrain. But there's an extremely long section to which the view on your left is visible and let me just say, wow. The drop is quite sheer and it's a little unnerving because you realize how high up you are. The mountain is supposedly a dormant volcano and it has been but you never know. The view stretches out as far as the eye can see and it's magnificent. Hell's Gate, the mountain, all part of the Great Rift Valley. At this point we started descending toward a small town called Naivasha. I shouldn't say small because it's home to a growing flower industry. The climate and the Lake Naivasha, all are factors to this growing export, which goes mainly to Europe and lately to Dubai of all places to be distributed further on. Some many miles later is Lake Elementaita. It is home to a large flock of flamingoes but alas the lake is drying up...very quickly. From the road, all you see is a patch of pink on a lake in the middle of nowhere. But when you get closer, you'll notice there's a large section of dry bed where water once was. The problem is that no rivers or a constant water source appear to feed into the lake and factor in the ozone issue, it cannot sustain itself and is heavily dependant on the rains. It was quite sad to see all the lodges and campsites that were built on the shores now quite a distance a way from the new shoreline. The scenery continues to be mesmerizing and you can actually see Maasai farmers grazing their large herds all over the place.

We continue on toward the town Gilgil that is quite close to the Aberdare National Park. I told you before about the Rhino Charge competition, which is going to take place this weekend and they hope to raise money to build the electrified fence that will keep the animals in and people out the park. Right around here is when the road gets bad, and I mean awful. It's at the Delamare Farm, which specializes, in dairy products, a range of meats including game meat. You may have seen the whole debacle surrounding the farm's owner who shot a ranger in self defense but the country is deeply divided because he's a white Kenyan farmer and the Attorney General dismissed his case quite rapidly causing an uproar. In all honesty, he was in the right as he was protecting his farm and workers, it's just the expediency with which the AG decided to dismiss the case (a matter of one month while there are many who have been lounging in jails for 10 or more years under similar circumstances) is what is alarming about who really is in charge here. I digress...the road gets incredibly horrible here. You'd think something would be done about it since it leads to many tourist attractions such as the very popular Nakuru National Park - has every animal you'd expect to see and in a much smaller area than the Tsavo parks in the South East. it also leads to the Aberdare national Park and to Nakuru, which is a growing business and tourism hub. But politics in this country are ROTTEN and that's the only reason why the roads are in such an appalling state.

Bf was asleep at this time but that mattered little to me because while looking around, I saw Zebra! Right by the side of the road. I climbed over him and went to the other side of the bus, strapped myself in and spent the next half hour marveling at the game all around me. There were herds of zebras on both sides of this very busy highway and in some sections, Thompson gazelles and antelopes. I was the kid on safari, nose pressed to the window, mouth open in a wide grin. I looked around to see if Bf was watching and I saw him sort of cringe and slide lower into his seat because of my eagerness, which was embarrassing. Lol, he later said that he wanted to hold up a book and pretend he didn't know me, while the other passengers looked rather bemused at my excitement. There were also baboons all around and I can't even describe how giddy I was when I watched to warthogs that had obviously been rolling around in the mud, cross the highway, right in front of the bus, tails ramrod straight in the air as the trotted quickly to the other side. Lol, I was giggling like a tourist....well I guess I am. In between all this you'd see many herdsmen with their cattle, literally a few feet away from the wild animals. I asked B1 on the way back on Sunday who's land it was that the animals roamed on and he really didn't know. I think the animals come from the Aberdare National Park and cross over to the other side to the Nakuru Park so the upcoming event to build the fence is really important. It's not uncommon to see the rotting carcasses of Zebra or antelope by the side of the road but I guess I should just think of it as deer crossing the highway. Still sad though.

We got to Nakuru on time and had a fifteen minute stretch your legs break and then back on the bus. This is where the land takes on the more agricultural feel that is this countries primary income earner. Tea farms, coffee though this is done more colder climate regions. Corn is the primary crop but more and more farmers are diversifying their products. You'll find more pumpkin, chili, passion fruit...etc. being grown and there's quite the market for these products. They also tend to be easier on the environment. Also, one promising thing I saw was despite the enormous deforestation that had plagued the Mau forest, there's actually a lot of money in tree farming so more and more farmers are turning to that as an alternative for large pieces of land that have been largely and traditionally overused for corn farming hence giving the soil a second chance and creating sustainable forests.

Ok, I sound like a National Geographic special so moving on. The road was still awful until about 30 miles outside of Eldoret where it eventually evened out. Eldoret has a new airport that has more and more passenger flights coming in from all over the region. It's also an excellent hub for various NGO's and the UN to service cargo flights to the North, particularly to the refugee camps that contain Somalis and more recently the displaced Darfur residents from southern Sudan. I will note that if you go further out beyond the city toward Kitale, there is a junction, which is home to a herd of giraffe! Lol, no, didn't get that far. Bf said that he appreciated my enthusiasm and excitement and said as a Kenyan, it's so easy to under-appreciate what we have. Normally he's angrily honking his horn at slow moving Zebra but said he'd start to take notice of any animals or routes they may be on for me.

We got to Eldoret on time and checked into our hotel. It was no Hilton but it sufficed. Has a very dorm room feel to it and if you're picky about your accommodations, probably not your cup of tea. the rates were great, about $20 for B/B. The ride back was pretty much the same, a lot of traffic typical of a Sunday back into the city. I was with B1 this time in his truck and so I got to know more about the land. I was disappointed though on the way back there were no warthogs.
Sniff

When Life interferes with Football....

2005-05-19T05:55:00.000-04:00

Hola sweet people. It's getting harder and harder to actually sit down and work on the blog because time is my enemy. Also, so many things happen in the day that when I go to sleep, I'm actually dictating my blog out loud and clear but work invades my mind and I wake up with a frown, usually prioritizing what needs to be done when I get to the office.
Sob

I've become a 7 - 5 working stiff!

Anyway, work's going well, wish it was more in tune with my field but so far I've been hearing nothing but good things about my perfomance.

This weekend should be very interesting. One of the brothers is getting engaged and there's a complicated and interesting ceremony that accompanies this move towards marriage. As a sister, apparently my role is to go get her from her parents home and I have to beg, cajole and practically bribe her (very similar to how I was convinced to take on the task) to come out of their house and come with me to take her to my brother's house. There's a whole list of traditions and practise that acoompany this ceremony so I promise I'll blog it.
The only downside to this is that I will have no internet access where I'm going....distracted, my launch player just did an ad. for Wendy's Triple Cheeseburger....drooling...
Oh yeah, no internet access until I find a cyber cafe but I think time will once again be on someone else's side.

I also don't like the fact that this Saturday is the FA Cup Final between Man Utd. v. Arrsseenal (the bride is a Chelsea fan) so a month of pleading, begging and bribing to change the date has failed. Sigh. Oh well, Next year Chelsea is going down!
This weekend is also the Monaco Grand Prix and I know a bunch of us are going to be racing back to the city to go to the usual haunt to watch the race. Why is the Monaco GP so thrilling? Well as a close friend puts the track in perspetive, "It's like riding a bike in your living room." Damn, I might miss that. Oh well, yes, yes, happy, joy, engagement....wrong! It's messing with football!

Lol, laters, oh, personal friends, I have postcards galore I want to send out so e-mail me your addresses.

Follow up

2005-05-08T05:08:00.000-04:00

The man died on Friday afternoon. Apparently it was a deliberate killing. He works for a major industrial firm that had a bid up for grabs on Tuesday and he'd been paid to deliver it to one of the competitors but that didn't happen. So it was all a contract killing. That's the story anyway.

The cops were absolutely awful though, their behavior and their attitude was disgusting and I'm going to see if I can do anything, something however small to make sure that sort of negligent behavior doesn't happen again. I mean they were complete assholes.

Ok, off to watch F1 then Arsenal v. Liverpool. Life without sports....is no life at all.

Safety in Nairobi

2005-05-06T09:45:00.000-04:00

So how safe is Nairobi? I tend to forget sometimes that this is a big city with typical city problems. Unfortunately last night I was witness to one of them. Very long day at work and was exhausted and glad to be home. I tried to stay up and watch the British election numbers coming in but they kept pushing back the expected poll times so I gave up and went to bed. You know that stage of falling asleep when you’re on the edge of a long languid fall into deeply restful sleep. I was actually smiling while I drifted away when I heard what I now know were gunshots, then a loud bang, silence and another loud bang and the sound of an engine stuck in high rev. I lay there, my eyes wide open and my forehead wrinkled in thought. I knew that the disturbance had come from the entrance of the apartment complex, which was a bit away from my apartment itself so I wasn’t scared or startled. I just remember lying there and hearing that engine turning furiously but clearly going nowhere. I then started to realize that there had probably been an accident.

The apartment complex is built in a valley with more and more buildings coming up and approaching the river that runs through the bottom of the hill. The driveway through the area is "S" shaped all the way around as a straight drive would be too steep for most cars. When I heard that engine roaring I just thought that it might have been a drunk driver who misjudged the corners and speed and probably smashed into a wall. (You tend to see a lot of paint scrapings around the walls that frame the driveway because some designer so fit to make the road barely passable for two vehicles.

So I lay there depending whether I really wanted to go find out what was happening as it had been going on for five minutes flat now. I heard some neighbors yapping away loudly so I groaned and dragged myself about of bed, groping for my glasses, cursing the neighbors, as they were loud as hell. I looked outside and I saw them standing around gesturing in the direction of the entrance. I got my key and ventured out, not really sure what I would expect. I walked up the driveway and had to look away because of the blinding headlights shining down the hill. As I got closer, I saw that indeed a vehicle had come through the main gates but instead of turning left immediately to proceed down the drive, it had rammed straight ahead into the low concrete wall that framed the drive, gone through and the front wheels were spinning in mid-air, completely off the road. There was a lone passenger in the car; he appeared unconscious as his head was just lolling about. It was then I figured out the continued revving of the engine was because his foot was jammed on the accelerator. I asked the one sole person who’d ventured out into the night with me what had happened and she gave me a horrible but brief recap.
Apparently the man had approached the gate at high speed, yelling out the windows that he was being followed by car-jackers and was pleading with the askaris (watchmen) to open the gates and let him in. The askaris were understandably nervous and hesitated but then there were gunshots and the man rammed into the gate. The askaris then opened the gate and the driver crashed through and ofcourse in the panic drove straight-ahead and crashed into the barrier. Car jacking is fairly common in Kenya, as I know it is in most cities in the world. Just like anywhere else it happens, they target specific cars and apparently they usually follow the intended victim home a couple of times to figure out their driving style. There have been many sad incidents though where they (car jackers and robbers) lurk in the shadows as most Nairobi suburb streets are extremely poorly lit if at all and when the gate is being opened, they’ll jump out and either force their way into the car or the compound to get in the house. Sometimes people get killed and if you’re lucky, they’ll take just the vehicle and leave you in peace. Usually these cars have been targeted from the time they come into the country into Mombasa from mainly Dubai and they get "scoped" out. I think (not sure, have to check) the most stolen vehicle is a Toyota brand and also SUVs are usually targeted. In this case, the man’s car was more like a CUV, not sure what the brand was but nothing overtly stylish or expensive about it but it was evidently targeted.

I asked the lady who was telling me the story where the askaris had now gone as the gates were shut. She told me she didn’t know, she thinks they went to the police station. I looked back at the car that was now smoking and you could smell the heated engine. More and more people came out but were understandably afraid of approaching a vehicle that might blow up at any time. I rushed back to my apartment so that I could get a fire extinguisher if that did happen and also to get my brother who was blissfully asleep. I got him and we came back and there were more resident out there but no one approached the car. I asked anyone if the cops had come yet (a full 20 minutes had now elapsed since I heard the first bangs and by the way, I live less than 5 minutes from the police station.) One of the residents, actually the one who’s vehicle received a large shower of concrete chunks had actually jumped in his car with an askari and driven to the police station to go get help. He said when he got there, there was one desk sergeant who reeked of alcohol and was asleep. He told him about the accident and told him to send help and the officer shrugged and said, "I’m the only one here, what do you want me to do?"

They pleaded for a while to get him to call someone or do something but the man was clearly inebriated. So they drove back to the compound and parked at the entrance to deter anyone else from trying to come in. There were about 15 of us now out there, struck speechless at the thought that the same police station that’s next to the apartments that gives us an added assurance and certainly forces a higher rent, might as well have not been there. There was an almost audible whir of our minds at work, trying to figure out who to call next. I looked at the back of his car to see if he had the rescue insurance that I carry. I cannot stress enough how you need to have insurance in this country. There is a nationalized health care of sorts but to count on it is not wise. I carry a great insurance, a company called AAR who are known nationwide and were actually started doing "bush" rescues and were among the first who airlifted patients out. There service is impeccable and if they are your cover, you’re assured of excellent care. Ok, I sound like their marketing department but no really, they are quite good.
Anyway, the man didn’t have any sign of that sort of cover visible on his vehicle. We were all wondering out loud who to call. I thought about 911 but oh yeah, I’m not in Woo anymore. As we began to ponder this more and more, the car, which was still running, started to power down. It eventually ran out of gas it seemed as it completely shut down. His lights were still on as well as his radio. I went round to the driver’s side and saw the bullet holes through the back window. I wasn’t sure but I’m pretty sure he wasn’t hit and had just knocked himself out when he hit the wall. I looked closely at the car and realized it was my neighbor from across the street. I’d seen his car many times as he pulled in, in the evenings and sometimes in the morning and I could have sworn I saw a little girl in his car in school uniform on Tuesday. I stared at the car some more and was more convinced that it was indeed our neighbor. I told my brother this and he too started to recognize the car. Just then, a police truck showed up with a couple of officers brandishing these massive guns and in my limited knowledge I can only describe as AK looking. They jumped out, asking where the car, which was right in front of them, was. We all said, "right in front of you," incredulous that they’d shown up a full half hour after someone had gone to fetch them. Get this; they were the cops from the neighboring precinct. (Not sure what the Kenyan term is.) I asked in disbelief where the hell our cops were but they were not to be bothered and my brother quietly reminded me, that I was not in Potomac anymore. I shut up and watched as they strutted around the vehicle, guns in hands, residents in pajamas watching from a distance. They tried to open the doors but they were locked and the man inside still wasn’t responding. They then asked…if anyone had a flashlight. Ummm, it’s midnight, you’re a cop, you have all this weaponry hardware but somewhere among your arsenal a flashlight isn’t part of the package.

My brother ran back to the apartment to get his flashlight while I watched the cops. They were still trying to figure out how to open the door and were arguing among themselves. Some one had the bright idea to knock out the back window that had been shot at but no one thought to collect evidence or any such thing. They then unlocked the car but the way it had been wedged between the wall, there was room only to open each side a couple of inches. At that time I began to wonder, where the hell is the ambulance. Again….insurance, you must have it. The ambulance has to be called separately and is not attached to any police station. Actually, the police stations don’t appear to have any medical units as such. So this man could have broken his neck but no collar was being produced to protect him from any unnecessary movement. My brother and other residents returned with flashlights to give to the cops and they began to argue about which side to remove him from. The thing that pissed me off and I’m absolutely livid about is that they then turned to us, the residents, standing in our pajamas and told us to remove the man from the vehicle. They actually directed it at all the males in the group and one pointed at my brother and told him to come remove the man. I blurted out, "But that’s your job, why should he remove him?" In my mind I’m thinking communicable diseases, there’s shattered glass and jagged edges all over, no medics, no gloves, nothing yet you want my brother to remove a total stranger. Yes, yes, I know, selfish it seems but you should have seen how those cops rolled in, swinging their guns and acting like fat cats. I kept calling my brother aside as they tried to get other residents to join in and gradually more of my mates began to question why they weren’t doing their job. Gradually, they stopped trying to order the residents around and instead pulled the man out himself. They dragged him out, four cops holding a limb, his head dragging on the floor below him. I don’t think he was shot though as there wasn’t a drop of blood anywhere and for that I was grateful. He’d also been wearing his seat belt but his airbag (if there was one) hadn’t gone off. They took him out to their truck and I shit you not, opened the back and put him in like a sack of potatoes. They rearranged his limbs so they could shut the door and once that was done, they got on their walkie talkies and nobody made any effort to get in and drive him off.

At this point, MY precinct's vehicle rolls in and we were not amused. The adrenaline rush of fear had been replaced by a seething anger at these officers. There was a study done about a month ago and the Police have come in yet again as the most corrupt division/office in the country. They almost always expect bribes and will create false charges when they’re not paid. My own father has been a victim of this so as much as I’d like to say they are not all corrupt, they’re certainly not discriminating when it comes to whom they want bribes from. So our boys in blue with guns show up, chatting away on radios, taking personal calls on those units as well and asking about the vehicles. They were fucking pompous asses. I can’t delicately put it because to me they were super assholes. We started to demand why they hadn’t taken the man to the hospital and us our voices grew louder, they finally got in their vehicle, with plenty of space in the backseat, injured victim on the floor of the car in the back and they drove off at a very leisurely pace, over what I can assure you are extremely bad road….no collar, back boards, no medical attention.

After they’d left, I followed the officers down to what I believed was his apartment but no one answered the door. We sat there and chatted with other neighbors, discussing the general safety of Nairobi and the conclusion was that we live in a good neighborhood that’s well protected and is really better off than most places. I would love to name my neighborhood but I’d rather not but I will tell you if the diplomats, aid workers and other foreign nationals who chose to live there for the one of the same reasons we did: proximity to a police station, you better think about how much you can really count on a work force that is so incredibly incompetent yet get paid to do so.

I couldn’t sleep for two hours after that and I would have given anything to be able to swallow a Valium but I settled on aspirin and breathing exercises. I’m not as frightened as I was; as random as the attack may have been, it’s the vehicles they want the most, not the passengers. If that’s the case, I now love and appreciate my brother’s wheezing, ancient and bitchy Peugeot, No one will dare touch that car.

Lessons learned:

If you’re driving home and it looks like someone has been following you for quite a while, drive to the police station.
Always alternate your route and the times you get home..
This really is a good country. It’s just has a shaky infrastructure.

It's the weekend. Yay.

Insane in the Membrane

2005-05-03T01:51:00.000-04:00

As I write this, the First Crazy is on a complete rampage through all the media houses in Nairobi. Early this morning, actually late last night she went to the Nation House which is home to the Daily Nation newspaper and said she was going to stage a hunger strike at their offices until they printed her version of the story. She demanded to see the editor who’d approved the story about her late night antics on Friday. She was also upset because the Standard newspaper had reported that she had gone to the Muthaiga police station to file a statement and she was wearing shorts. She went on to say yes she was wearing shorts, they should have taken a picture, she can wear anything she wants, shorts, pants, mini-skirts and "yes, I even wear bikinis". You gotta see this lady to truly marvel at such bravado. She completely took the Nation office hostage and when one news crew arrived a little late and began to film, she came over and slapped a cameraman’s equipment down and the reporter across the face. I actually shouldn’t call her the First Crazy because she’s showing all signs to the fact that something is truly not right upstairs. Anyway, read the articles, the story is unbelievable. I’m starving here; I skipped breakfast because I had to watch news of this lunacy. Oh, on top of that, she wanted to have the World Bank president arrested on grounds of disturbing the peace but the police had to delicately remind her that he enjoyed diplomatic immunity and could not be arrested.

Where is the president in all of this? Good question, no one knows. She cannot be "silenced" as she constantly insists. Lol, she said that she has always been known as the woman who got things done and now that she’s First Lady they are more publicized. She said something to this extent, "When I moved to the State House and power went out in Muthaiga, people would call me and say, ‘Lucy, we have no power, we can’t sleep because all the generators are running. Please, can you do something?’ I would call KPLC* and I would order them, yes I give orders, you can put that in your papers! And I would tell them, the people of Muthaiga have no power and cannot sleep, do something. And they would listen to me and power would be restored. I stand for the weak and the voiceless people of Kenya and I get things done." For those of you who’ve never been to Kenya, Muthaiga is one of the richest neighborhoods among the suburbs. I mean the place is lavish, huge mansions and just plain loaded but evidently those folks are downtrodden and oppressed and need Lucy to be their voice.

http://www.eastandard.net/hm_news/news.php?articleid=19507

She’s still running over town right now, visiting media houses and insisting that she’s the voice of reason. And elections are not until 2007 so there’ll be two more years of this or according to her, 7 more because she knows that her husband will get reelected.

*KPLC is the Kenya Power and Lighting Company but are commonly referred to as Kenya Paraffin Lamps and Candles in the rural areas and other urban areas as the service is so often interrupted some folks haven’t had electricity for months.

Cyber Cafe etiquette

2005-05-02T09:17:00.000-04:00

It is not polite to sit sit next to me, say hello very nicely, then put a briefcase over your lap and start browsing porn sites! Eww, I had to leave a cafe a few hours ago for that same reason. The guy was squirming in his seat and moaning softly and I didn't know why until I sort of leaned back and glanced at his monitor. GROSS! Lol, I left very quickly and complained to the owner and he shrugged his shoulders and smiled ruefully and suggested I sit in a different section next time. I'm back again because my brother joined me in town and I'm in a much better section. Lol. The problem is the prices at this cafe are unbelievably reasonable, especially if I have a lot of catching up to do as far as e-mails, news and such so I can afford to spend more time here. Usually I'm on the run so I'll stop at a cafe that's on the ground floor of my building but they charge 2 shillings a minute while the other one charges 50 cents a minute. Oh great, he's still here looking at porn....with volume now! URGHH! Oh yes, when I go home, I usually wash my hands about 20 times before I touch anything. I'm becoming obsessive compulsive about that. I now have a vague idea of what I may have been in contact with. Lol. Gross!

There are tons of cyber cafes sprinkled around the city and the rates are usually great unless you're at Sarit center, a mall in Westlands. There is one cyber cafe in the building that can be accessed by everyone. There are two on the ground floor but they're for pre-paid customers and frankly they are quite slow. Well the mall has fairs at least once a month on just about every thing ranging from toursim to home/garden shows. If you're desperate for internet access, this one cafe charges an appaling 4 shillings a minute. But if money is of no objection then it's okay to pay those exorbitant prices. Some places will advertise "wireless" in their title. Do not be fooled. Most of these services are dial-up and the connection can be crushingly slow. Sometimes you'll go to at least 5 cafes and find their service is down and that's when the more expensive cafes make money as they use better connections or have better units. I have heard that some hotels have wireless but I've yet to discover one that offers it and very few hotels have really good websites. Damn, I need a laptop.

Labor Day Weekend

2005-05-02T06:57:00.000-04:00

I did a very long entry in the blog and when I tried to publish, the server died and I hadn't saved any of my work so it's history. Anyway, what I covered were a couple of stories that made up this weekend. As it was Labor day, the government usually organizes a march of different labor groups but this year attendance was poor and you wonder why? The economy sucks (insert expletive). More and more people are losing jobs and even the travel industry is affected. One of the major local airlines just folded because their parent company British Airways refused to continue the contract. And it was done very suddenly so thousands of travelers were left stranded where they were.

Kenya's first lady is truly certifiable and I will briefly detail why. The outgoing World Bank President to the region, Diop, had a farewell party this weekend at his home in an upscale suburb of the city. He's a jazz musician and I've seen him perform, brilliant man. Anyway, he had tons of people at this party, which was a who's who of Nairobi. The French and Canadian Ambassadors as well as two for the First Family kids were there. Apparently she came storming in pyjamas or something and began to unplug equipment and throw stuff around because ranting and raving "This is Muthaiga not Korogocho", the latter being a slum area. She said the noise was too much, she'd had it and she was screaming at Diop and at one point even slapped his wife across the face. Her own kids tried to calm her down but she was having none of it. She's done crazy thing in the past including denouncing the president's other wife, a kind and more diplomatic lady. She even got the president to denounce her after much prodding yet the lady enjoys a secret service and police detail. Hmm. She's kinda crazy actually.

Anyway, they're even more bleak tales of life in Kenya.

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/7677938/ This link is about how alley abortions are on the rise and there are more stories about mothers dumping new born babies and more people are calling for abortion to be legalized. The statistics also about young mothers who conceal their pregnancies and then dumping the infants at birth are on the rise. The stigma of being a young single mother in most communities that are fairly traditional is too much burden for them to bear so they get rid of their children.

http://allafrica.com/stories/200504290401.html This link is about how 2 out 3 women live in fear of being raped. This statistic was discovered during a poll about a bill that's on the table to castrate rapists. There have been horrible stories about rape and the victims have been getting younger and younger. 13 year old girl who was raped by a close male relative and contracting HIV and also syphillis which led to the dementia. A 17 year old handicapped girl who starts showing signs of being pregnant and after being repeatedly questioned as to the father of her child says that her own father frequently sleeps in her bed and it had been going on for years. Tragic, tragic and awful. The story is quite scary.

Anyway, good news, the rainy season is here, yay for farmers, boo for city folk because the drainage system sucks ass and traffic gets crippled when even a drop falls. I'll be staying later in the office just so that I can avoid rush hour. Laters, miffed I lost the first blog though.

Indenture...I mean internship.

2005-04-26T10:13:00.000-04:00

Is it wrong that I welcome the sugar shortage that's sweeping the country for the sole purpose of my not having to prepare gallons of coffee and tea for the many visitors I greet? Sigh. Actually it's an informative internship so far as they are supposed to be but I wish it was more in tune to my interest. I am learning more about how to approach my business though so that's a good thing.

Oh, I'm boycotting the BATA shoestore. Yes I will name them because their product speaks for itself. They have great shoes for safaris and school kids but if you're an adult woman, you're expected to choose from a selection ranging from uncomfortable high heels to uncomfortable ugly shoes. Urghh, I curse the way I used to look down on Payless. At least their shoes fit. These ones are horrible! They have some nice casual shoes but forget shopping for the office.

Ok, sorry this is brief but I'd like to get home before the sun sets once in a while. Long weekend ahead and it looks like I have to cancel the beach because all the airlines are solidly booked. BA got jumpy with it's regional carrier and they cancelled the contract in effect leaving hundreds of people stranded and forced all the other flights to be overbooked for this weekend. Long story, curses to them but hopefully I'll make this damn trip soon. I need a vacation soo badly it's starting to hurt. I think it's just more me wanting some serious book reading and alone time, something I took for granted before but is a necessary part of my existence.

Ciao bellas, at least I have a UEFA game to look forward to tomorrow.

Nairobi sunsets

2005-04-17T04:28:00.000-04:00

I forgot to mention, my office is in one of the few towers that form the Nairobi skyline. The other evening I was still at work and I went into the board room to prepare a package and I looked outside and caught my breath. The sun was setting in the horizon and the shadows and light playing between the buildings was absolutely stunning. There's an Islamic center right across and evening prayers were blaring out over the loud speaker and just to my right, I overlook the swimming pool of a nearby hotel and the lights hadn't yet been turned on but you could see the blue green water lapping in the breeze. It was so beautiful, the city actually seemed pleasant for a change.

Ok, enough, Man Utd. v. Newcastle in a couple of hours. I have my priorities. Laters

Just say No!

2005-04-16T07:12:00.000-04:00

Ok, something important to touch on. I can not stress enough how careful you have to be here. Drugging is fairly common around here. I don't know if I mentioned this before but there are very many sad stories. This Belgian tourist got on a bus coming from Kampala, Uganda headed to Nairobi. The bus picks up passengers on the way but you have to purchase your ticket at an office prior to boarding. Her fellow passengers recounted that she'd chatted up two men on the bus and that at around midnight at one of the stops, the two men disembarked and went on their way. No one noticed something was amiss until the bus got to Nairobi and they couldn't wake the woman up. She was obviously drugged and barely coherent. One passenger asked her where her bags were and she pointed in a vague direction but sure enough they'd been taken as well as her passport and all her money. She mumbled out that they had offered her a banana and she'd eaten it and that was how she got drugged. She also said her name and gave her nationality which is how they figured out who she was. The camera crews were out there way before the police were filming this poor lady who was so out of it and had to be supported by fellow passengers. She was later put in a cab and taken to the police station and then they showed her finally being taken to the hospital.....that evening. So this poor woman was in a police station somewhere, conked out of her mind and they take her much later to the hospital. I don't know what happened after that.

I was talking to some colleagues who told me about one of the managers on one of our accounts who went to a very popular club/restaurant on the outskirts of town. It's right near the local airport and a nice place to hang out. He went on Sunday evening by himself just for a drink and to catch the game and woke up on Monday afternoon in his car in a very dodgy neighborhood all the way across the other side of town, his phone, wallet and shoes were gone. He doesn't remember a thing aside from ordering one drink and going to the bathroom and coming back and then nothing else. He had been drugged, probably escorted to his car by the people who did it under the guise of them taking an intoxicated buddy home, then they drove around probably looking for someone who would want to buy the car, take it to the Tanzania border and sell it from then on to parts unknown. (Fairly common practise to steal a vehicle and take it to the border which is about 2 or so hours from the city and then they scatter elsewhere. Someone mentioned seeing a car with Kenyan license plates in S.Africa and upon query of the owner as to where it came from the guy shrugged and quickly left.) So this poor manager had no idea what happened to him. The drug of choice if Rohypnol (sp) it seems. I'm not sure where they get it from but it's plentiful.

Yesterday, I was witness to this horrible crime. I joined my older brother and his friends at their fave haunt and sitting at the bar counter a little aways from us was a couple acting very strangely. Their heads were lolling about and their eyes were unfocused and they just looked drunk at first. An incredible story was then recounted to me. Apparently the gentleman in question is actually a commercial airline pilot for a major airline and he'd arrived earlier that evening with two female companions. They ordered one round of drinks and promptly engaged in PDA and then one of the females got up and went to the mercedes they'd arrived in. She jumped in and started to back out but I think she'd never driven stick before because the car jerked backwards and she was going very fast and managed to hit a car that was refueling right behind her. (The pub is built right next to a nice gas station) She tried to go forward but the station attendants jumped infront of her and someone cut her off with his car so she got out and somehow stalked off and no one stopped her. The cops eventually came and his car was towed away. Meanwhile, the staff went to find the pilot and his companion and found them looking very drunk. They knew something was up as they'd consumed nothing more than half a glass of wine yet acted so intoxicated. They kept trying to wake him up and get him to go outside because of his vehicle but he sluggishly tried to fight them off because he thought they were trying to rob him. Finally, they got him to go and see but he could barely comprehend what was going on. They were later moved up front to the bar where they could keep an eye on him while they tried to find someone who knew who he was. His phone and wallet had been stolen by the other woman and he wasn't really a regular so no one knew where he was from and who he might roll with. The girl said she lived all the way on the other side of town and didn't know where the pilot lived. They were so out of it, she got sick right there at the bar (gross) and he was talking to the wall. It was absolutely awful for the time they were there until luckily, someone came in who recognized him and immediately got them out of there.

Like I said, beware of strangers bearing gifts....literally. Another tactic is when people come up to you on the streets brandishing perfumes and spraying the air infront of you, "Would you like to smell this?" Next thing you know, you're in another part of the country with no money or clothes for that matter. Always go out with a group of friends you know and trust. You can't go to a pub by yourself unless you know the owners and staff they know you and you trust. Don't leave your drink unattended and if you buy bottled water, always make sure it's sealed with the little plastic wrap.

Other than that, lol, I'm doing fine.

Laters darlings.

Internships and such

2005-04-02T05:08:00.000-05:00

I've been terrible about keeping up with the blog and I'm terribly sorry. I've been so busy. I started my internship at the beginning of the month and I'm usually at work from 7.30 until 5 but last night and for many nights to come, I stayed until 10. First quarter reporting is due and interns are required by law to perform what is humanly impossible and undertake all tasks deemed unfit by the boss and others. It's actually a really nice place, an investment firm and the atmosphere has been very good. A nice place, considering I was dropped in like a fish out of water and started from scratch and couldn't differentiate a cash sheet from an equities portfolio. I hope this explains the absence.

The only thing that sucked in the beginning was taking the matatu so early in the morning and sitting next to people doing the "walk of shame" or just plain crackheads who can't sleep. Also what sucks ass is if I stay late, I have to take the matatus home and the station is not in the safest of places at night or even day for that matter. But by evening, you'll find some of the conductors and in some cases the drivers are high on "miraa" (a hallucinogenic that you chew) or Chang'aa (the cheap toxic brew) or plain stoned. Oh yeah, weed is cheap here. You can get a joint for less than a dollar. Lol, not advertising the country as the place to get high but the prices are quite reasonable if that's your thing. IT WAS ON THE NEWS! I SWEAR! Lol. I will also point out that it is very illegal and the fines and(not or) jail time will be super restrictive on your holiday plans should you choose to indulge in practise.

Interesting news stories: A woman at a local university posted a list of 118 men on the bulletin board with whom she'd had sex with. She said she'd been intimate with 124 men but only six used condoms and had in fact deliberately infected the careless 118 with the HIV virus in the same manner she'd been infected by a fellow student who'd neglected to mention his status. She also claims that there were several lecturers on the list.

Deep breath

Since I am here and I've observed relationships, I can tell you that most of these men/boys/infants are married, will in fact not tell their wives/girlfriends/boyfriends etc. and thus the disease will spread and yet another cycle begins. Also, don't men talk to each other anymore? It's not a big university and usually about the 40th or 50th person who would boast about her as a conquest would start to figure out, hmmm, something's not right here.

I will touch on the impact of the disease at some point but the depth and the scope that is visible and present on an almost daily basis has been overwhelming and I feel I should dedicate more time on what I've observed later. It's very, very, very sad. But the response by the government and community has been "positive" and that's very reassuring. It's only when you read such stories in the paper that you realize that someone just took 118 steps back in the progress that had already been attained.

What else? Oh yeah, the president is a bit of a running joke. People talk about him saying he's either always sleeping or out on the golf course and his wife Lucy is actually in charge. Funny couple to watch on the telly but I won't risk saying anything bad about them because an MP got arrested yesterday for singing about them and saying exactly what I said just now. Oh well, Kenyan jails promise to be interesting. I'M KIDDING.

Personal note, Corinne, Fleur, Fluffster and Talley, thanks for reading. Oh yeah, my darling VD, who just came back from Hawaii where he was schmoozing with celebs, thank you for reading as well and commenting. You totally rock and I'm sorry you have no drinking buddies....but just wait until your baby's born and for eighteen more years and hurrah, you've bred your own drinking buddy.

So I promised myself I'd go to Mombasa at the end of this internship. I still haven't read Chemories yet and I'm dying, craving to see people's smiles. I've been blessedly distracted lately by work which is so fun. My only complaint is that my very expensive Nine West's are killing my feet! I'm going to bow down and buy the local brand, BATA because they're cheap and comfy.

Btw, I try and avoid naming the places I go to because I'm not endorsing anyone or getting paid for it. The latter being more of the reason. However, I'll be happy to take you to a wonderful club that is so like NYC on safari and where you'll spend $50 in ten minutes without even realizing it because the ambience is so amazing and relaxing and the prices will make even you who come with your dollars gasp when you ask, "Ngapi?" "How much?!?" Lol, it really is a nice place.

Ok, off now, it's Friday evening and there's a very cold, much deserved beer calling my name...I have to work tomorrow so not too much. Oh yeah, I have to work Sunday too but it's worth it. The experience, wow.

Laters!

Monkeying around barbecues

2005-03-31T02:54:00.000-05:00

Hola blog people! So this past weekend was looooooonnnngg because of Easter. On Monday, a good friend "W" invited myself, siblings and their partners over for an afternoon barbecue. There were tons of kids running around while the adults sat around sipping various poisons of choice while W's chef grilled some goat and chicken. The conversation ranged in topic from banking to politics to where to find a good butchery. It was during this time I finally figured out what "Halal" means. When you visit here, you'll pass a lot of fast food restaurants that have that word written below their name or even at the grocery store in the meat department. A lot of the packages have "Halal" written on products ranging from fish to mutton. I asked someon what it meant and they said it's Arabic for "what is lawful" meaning what muslims can eat. It also means that the animals had to be slaughtered in a "Zahibah" manner, in an Isalmic way and the person doing it had to be of the religion. Also at the time of the slaughter, the person must pronounce Allah's name or recite a blessing containing his name. Basically Kosher! I was very impressed by that and relieved that the name did not mean a corporation that had taken charge of all the butcheries in the area. So if you see Halal, it means kosher food.

While taking a food break, I looked up at the huge trees that surrounded W's apartment complex and fixed my eyes on a large brown creature perched way high. At first I thought it was a huge badger that had wound its way all the way up there but upon closer look, I realized it was a very large hawk. I mean this thing was huge and it was watching something else equally high up. Where I live is near the Nairobi Arboretum which is an amazing botanic garden and what that hawk was looking at was a monkey that had just taken a climb out and was walking around. Apparently it's pretty common for the monkeys to get out of the gardens and check out the neighborhood. I never noticed them near by place as the nearest tree to me is an Avocado one of which I and about 20 other residents eye closely waiting for the first signs of ripening fruit. W's place is more wooded so the monkeys had come out for the afternoon. The monkey eyeing the hawk was moving closer and closer while the hawk kept staring. I watched this quite puzzled as I thought monkeys would have been fodder for this large bird but oh no, the monkey leaped toward it and the hawk took off to perch on yet another branch. Then another monkey joined in and started to chase the hawk until it took off. Then the little creatures climbed all the way down where they were joined by two more and began to chase themselves around this garden that was no more than 50 feet away from us for about an hour and then they left. W told me that it was quite common for them to do that and you had to be careful not to leave fruit near your window sills as the little thieves would reach in and pluck what they could.

The afternoon turned into evening, the meat kept coming, drinks kept flowing and I couldn't help but wonder that this is what you have to experience if you come to Kenya. Yes come to see the animals, enjoy the beaches and maybe if you're lucky see me but more than that, you should meet Kenyans and not just just your waiter or housekeeper. The conversation is enlightening, the ambience very warming and there is no language barrier. I suppose this is true of everywhere you travel, if you know someone there then you'll be fortunate to see more than clubs and bars and you'll get to experience family life and conversation. Sorry this is brief, I'm running late and also low on cash so have to limit time online. I will add more to this later.

Oh, people rejoice! I will be starting internship tomorrow...unless someone's pulling an April Fools prank on me. I will refrain from talking about my work as people have been known to get fired because of work references in their blogs. Instead, I'll operate on a five star rating. 5 for an excellent day, 1 for I hate my job. Get it?

Yes Jamie, I'm sorry that you still have to sign on to make a comment, I thought they'd changed that. I'm pretty sure they did, check again.

Laters!

Kenyan Timing

2005-03-28T03:51:00.000-05:00

11 a.m.

"Hi X, what are you doing today?"
"Oh, not much, was going to make some gazpacho, why?"
"My friend is having a big Easter lunch this afternoon. Can I pick you up at one?"
"Umm, yeah sure, that'd be nice. I'll see you in an hour then?"
"Yup, come hungry."

1.30 p.m.

"Hey, it's me X, I thought you said you'd be here half an hour ago."
"Yeah, sorry, we just got out of church. Let me drop the kids off and I'll be right over."
"Ok, see you in fifteen then?"
"Absolutely, hang tight, you hungry yet?"
"Umm, getting there."
"See you in a few then."

2.45 p.m.

"Dude, I've been trying to call you but you've been "mteja"*, where are you?
"Oh man, traffic is killer, sorry I'll be there soon."
"But you live 5 minutes away and it's Sunday."
"The kids, I tell you they're driving me nuts. I'll be there soon."
"I'm starving here, I'm chewing gum and toothpicks because I don't wanna ruin my appetite."
"Sorry, I'll be there in five minutes, I promise."

4.00 p.m.

"Hey X, I'm outside your apartment right now, you ready?"
"@!#$@&%$# up yours!"

Lol, this was slightly similar to my afternoon yesterday. Kenyan timing is notoriously awful. I went for an interview a few weeks back and I showed up ten minutes before my appointment. The secretary looked at me with astonishment and said, "You're extremely early."

I have an acquaintance who is particularly expert at Kenyan time. The conversation above is the usual par every time we make plans. If he says he'll be over at around 5 that evening, I won't even start getting ready until about 8. It's awful I know but that's how it is. If you're trying to conduct business while you're here, I seriously suggest you operate between the hours of 8 and 11 in the morning as come noon, it's every person for themselves. There is a tendency to take unofficial siestas in the form of long lunches and lazy walks back to the office. This ofcourse is not the case for every business but is fairly typical for some that still operate on a very casual front. And as is with friends, when you give a certain time for a pending visit, it's best to add at LEAST an hour to their ETA. Fun stuff, no? Until you're in a hurry, then you'll be hurting.

*Mteja - when you call someone, you don't get a busy signal, you'll get a message, "the person you're trying to reach is not available" "Samahani, mteja unayoita...." Mteja being the unavailable party. It's become more a slang reference, say "Hey, have you seen Dan lately? He's been Mteja." (Unavailable, get it? If not, seek help)

Movie Time

2005-03-26T08:25:00.000-05:00

So I decided to give myself a treat and go see a movie and I chose to see Hitch at a nearby mall. The tickets cost about the same for a matinee as they would in Woo and the soda and popcorn....way cheaper. I got a medium sprite and popcorn for about $2. Very nice. The movie theater I went to has been around for ages and they offer regular seating or balcony seats for a slightly higher fraction. The problem with the latter seats is that they built them way too high so you feel like you're watching from above rather than directly at the screen, a problem I encountered the last time I was here and watched Gladiator. "On my signal, unleash Hell." Obsessed with that movie to this day.

Anyway, when you buy your ticket at the window, they actually have a seating chart in front of you that they mark, so you can see what's open and what's not. They also have "love seats" for couples, I'm assuming it's seats that don't have the arms in between. So I was assigned my seat, very nice, dead center and not many people around. When you walk in, the place is really dark, such that an usher has to lead you to your seat with a flashlight. Once seated, I looked around, the chairs are very nice and comfortable, the place is spotlessly clean and you won't find gum stuck under your seats or encounter a sticky floor as they wipe the place down after each show. The pre-movie music is the same fare of modern hits, some country (lol) and loads of oldies. Then the screen comes to life and it's a picture of the Kenyan flag waving proudly in the wind and suddenly the national anthem starts. All around me people stood up, I hastily dropped my popcorn and stood as well, trying hard not to smile as I gauged the situation. I didn't know they still did that. I vaguely recall that happening when I saw my big picture, E.T. but I didn't know it was still practised. As soon as it was over, the usher continued to show people to their seats while conversations picked up from where they were dropped. I sat down, still smiling hard and trying not to look like an idiot. It just struck me as incredibly hilarious. Anthems at games, events, yes, at the movies? Slightly strange, no?

So the curtain goes up and the screen jumps right into a preview of Mr. & Mrs. Smith (pause: I'm drooling over Mr. Smith) then 10 other previews follow afterwards. The movie was supposed to start at 1.10 and it did indeed, just the previews anyway, whew no dreaded commercials. At about 1.30, the previews changed to oh no, commercials. Nothing like "Hot Bod!", mostly advertising for pharmacies and LG electronics. The commericals end when the screen is launched into yet another set of previews, 5 this time around. By now I had made a serious dent in the popcorn I'd bought and realized I was out when my fingers scraped the bottom....all before the movie started which it did, at 1.50 p.m. Know I know why so many people were coming in late. Ah well, I'll still get there early to get good seat and the AC is a welcome relief after the humidity and heat that's enveloped this place.
Laters!

Artifacts, curios etc.

2005-03-24T07:26:00.000-05:00

Housekeeping: It's official, corruption is rampant and blatant in Kenya as evidenced in the daily papers for Thursday March 24th. http://www.eastandard.net/ Interesting, no?

Today I went to the curio market in a semi-upscale area called Westlands. It's sort of like the mega market that is Gikomba as in you walk through stalls to check out the merchandise but it's more enclosed, definitely more quiet, smells better and they sell curios, artifacts, jewelry etc. rather than clothes. This is where you'll find all those touristy things that people will inevitably bring back after being on "safari" in Kenya. There are wooden carvings that range in size from tiny to large carving and they are shaped in the form of masai tribesmen, wild animals, masks, stools etc. Really quite impressive and what's more amazing is that if you will most likely find them being created right before your very eyes.

There's also the soap stone culture from the Kisii people. There area is popular for the natural soft stone (sorry, didn't research the exact name) and they make plates, bowls, spoons etc. that appear ceramic as they are that delicate. Nearly every stall that I passed that featured this craft had the proprietors actually shaping and sanding the stones while continuously dipping them in water as they made the smooth forms of whatever they were intended to be. One popular and lucrative form they use is making chess sets. The boards are cut to a precise standard and each chess piece is made of the same stone and intricately shaped to match the bases and compliment the board. I asked one of the stone makers how long it took him to make one chess set and he said about 3 weeks and he valued it initially at about $20 but was willing to bargain for it.

There is an art to obtaining these pieces though. Every stall you pass will have someone politely calling out to you to come and look at the wares. They will watch your eyes closely and if you stare at one item for more than a second, it's immediately picked up and thrust in your hands. Lol, I had barely made it through the entrance and was immediately besieged by, "Madam, please come in, make yourself comfortable." The jewelry is amazing, bracelets and necklaces made from extremely colorful maasai beads and copperwires, the earrings are also the same and they have wonderful tiny wood carvings on them. The variety is endless and attractive but the bartering makes them much more appreciated.

E.g., I happened to stare at a large bracelet for quite a while and it was immediately wrapped around my wrist with the seller saying, "How much do you want to spend for this?" If you ask them how much, that's usually what the retort is. But it's hard to bargain if you're not sure what price they typically go for so I insisted he name his first and he said 500 shillings. (roughly $7....btw, what the hell is going on with the dollar? It's doing miserably over here) It was a gorgeous bracelet but I wasn't going to spend that much so I said 250. "Madam, look at that beading, the pattern, the delicate artwork. I spend one week doing one of these, I cannot let it go for that low, I beg you, how about 450. I examined it closely and it was beautiful but I tried to validate the purchase in my mind. How often would I wear it and with what and on what occasion? And the more I thought about that, the more hesitant I became and began to view it as an impulse purchase. He recognized this and immediately dropped it to 300 and that was his final offer. I argued with myself for a while and then reluctantly set it down and slowly backed away, all the time he asking me to name my price and he'd let it go even though it would mean a loss for him. I walked on, now being occasionally pursued by more sellers as I had shown interest in some items.

All around me were tourists doing the same and they knew it was expected for them to bargain or as one Italian I overheard put it incorrectly, "barter" for the items. I got lost while in this maze but it's been absolutely stunning today and even though the clouds have threatened occasionally, it's been hot and humid. I stopped by one stall as I saw a similar bracelet to the one I first found but it wasn't as attractive. I asked the seller how much, "How much do you think it is?" he replied? I said 100 and he hissed through his teeth, "Too low, madam, how about 400?" This one was more persistent than the other. He picked up another set of bracelets and put them in my hands and when I tried to hand them back he backed away, hands in the air, "Please choose madam, I know you like them very much." I started to laugh now as he wouldn't take them back until I'd selected one that I liked. Poor man, I put it down when he finally let me and he made me promise I would come back and make his day.

Lol, was very fun and interesting and in a totally safe place that I would feel comfortable taking "wageni" (guests) to. This weekend, I will be checking out another mitumba (second hand) clothing place that's in a more middle class neighborhood.

Hope you enjoy reading these as much as I love writing them. Laters, and happy Easter to all.
Kenyans celebrate Easter starting with Good Friday tomorrow and most shops and government offices will be closed until Tuesday as Easter Monday is also celebrated.

Shopping...well, kinda.

2005-03-23T04:51:00.000-05:00

So I went mitumba (second hand clothes) window shopping today. I'd been curious about this industry because it is quite booming. Wholesalers import used clothes from just about everywhere and sell them at different markets all over the country. I went to Gikomba Market which is in a very dodgy part of town and was extremely muddy as it had rained buckets yesterday. To get there, you have to walk into a very questionable part of town and climb into one of the matatus that are idling quietly. As soon as it's full, you crawl out and join the huge traffic jam that you'll be a part of, all the way to the market. We took the scenic route of course and if you looked through all the diesel fumes and dust that clogged the air, you would see mounds of garbage and rotting fruit on the sidewalks or near the brown river running along the road. The journey took a little over ten minutes and we got out at a very muddy intersection.

There are stalls everywhere, open air stalls from which all sorts of merchandise is hanging. Clothes, hats, shoes, pots, pans, buckets etc. Name it and it's available and this was just at the entrance. There's no sign as to where exactly you are and you have to go with someone otherwise you'll get lost. We followed a road that appeared to be the main one and I walked slowly behind my friends, staring at all the clothes hanging everywhere. The sellers themselves would walk down the road holding pants, skirts or belts, trying to get you to come to their stalls. I'd say just down this street there was about a hundred stalls to the left and right of me as far as I could see. I thought this was it but if you looked at the gaps between stalls you realize there's a whole other section behind them. And indeed, we went through one of the stalls and found ourselves in huge open air market. Clothes were piled on stalls that were about two feet high off the ground and there were so many. We stopped at one to look at some baby clothes and I perused some of the items. Some of these clothes were in even better shape than the clothes you'd find at Goodwill. I found so many Baby Gap clothes which I wanted immediately for my nephew but I put them down because my intention was to observe and not purchase. My companion Joan was looking for baby clothes and once she'd settled on about eight outfits, it was time to bargain. The man said each item was 50 shillings (about 60 cents) so everything came out to about 4oo shillings. You are expected to bargain, if you don't and you settle on what they are offering, there will always be someone who is nearby and will realize that you're willing to spend foolishly and they'll lure you to their stall and you won't know you've already earned yourself a markup. She argued with him for a while and settled on 360 and he threw in a bag for her to carry her purchase.

We walked around some more and ventured toward other stalls that had more jeans on display. Ladies, fear not, you can get your bras, slips and knickers here as well after they've been sorted and picked through by hands covered in god knows what and yuck. Gross, is what I was thinking but my snobishness does not clothe those who can't be picky. There were more hawkers selling their wares right on the street and some grabbed my hand and tried to pull me into their stalls to have a look around. They approach you very well but are very persisitent. I made the mistake of looking closely (barely glanced) at a pair of Hilfiger Jeans and the seller pounced on me, "Come madam, you must look, good prices, please come!" he said, trying to pull me towards his clothes. I had to drag myself away only to bump into another one holding a hipster skirt. He practically sized me, "Yes madam, I have your size, normal size yes? Come look at my jeans, matako zita kuwa safi ndani hizi! " (your butt will look good inside these) and then held them up to my waist.

I had wanted to see some formal shirts and we walked through a maze into a much quieter part of this incredibly huge market. I had no idea where we were now and if I lost Joan, I would probably wonder around for hours and then come out on the wrong side of the market. We were led to a stall by a very nice quiet young man. He had shirts lined up against a wall. The label whore that I am stared in wonder at Gap, Atmosphere, Marks & Spencer's, Nine West collections all being sold for abou 280 shillings (< $4). They were clean and some even had the tags from discount stores in the US and England. Very interesting. So we walked on some more and I found more Gap pants, American Eagle... all over the place. As we were leaving, we happened upon a stall that sold bags and sure enough, a gorgeous DKNY bag was right on top of a pile of other bags. I piced it up, checked the interior and it was in great condition. I've decided not to buy knock-offs while I'm here as I'm pretty sure this are items coming in from China and I would feel very guilty about not supporting the local bag makers. I fingered it longingly then put it back and forced myself to walk away only to be surrounded by more hawkers, each one talking at a higher volume than the other.

We got onto another matatu heading back to town and we took a different route from the one we used to get there. Joan told me that the road were going down was notorious for having thieves who would come to the windows of the vans and if it was open, reach in and try and steal your purse, or cell phone or whatever was conveniently close to them. She said they did this in broad day light and even if the bus was full and there were people all around and you were crying out thief, nobody would come to your aid, they would just stare. I immediately shut my window and sat on my purse while she laughed at me and said, "It's not so bad nowadays, it's only at that roundabout up ahead where you have to be careful because they will come from one side, and throw it to someone on the other who'll disappear into a crowd." Around this section were people selling all sorts of vegetables and fruits. There were men pushing carts of pineapples that they would cut and peel and sell individual slices for about 5 shillings, people selling home made ice cream bars, fruit juice bars, all yelling out their prices and showing samples. The stench here though was unbearable and I started to feel nauseous (still are) as the smell of rotting veggies and the fumes from all the trucks and buses passing by created this cloying mixture that you feel settling on your body. Have to go home soon and have clothes washed.

Tomorrow I'll go to the curio market at Westlands to check it out. I've driven by once before and noticed that most of the artifacts are made right then and there whenever there's a lull in the flow of tourists who come through. I'll find out some prices so whenever you're in the area, you'll be able to bargain effectively knowing full well what the real value is.

"Welcome to Kenya" ID part 3

2005-03-22T09:27:00.000-05:00

Housekeeping: I changed the title back to the original as my thoughts really aren’t that nutty and this really is a chronicle of my journey back here. Secondly, I really don’t give a damn who’s looking over my shoulders as I log my entries in crowded cafes all over the city. Besides, most of my friends call me crazy anyway.

Another thing, the hospitality industry is something I’m trying to get an internship in, but a challenge I’m beginning to face in my being here is, how am I supposed to sell Kenya to others if it can’t even sell itself to Kenyans at this point?

Also, this entry is VERY long so save yourself some time, print it out and read it during a coffee break, at lunch, while in a meeting, in court, on the loo or like my darling friend Corinne who reads it on Le Metro on the way to work in Paris, take some time to laugh or cry or shake your head in wonder.

So I woke up Monday morning, determined to make some progress of some sort on getting the ID. I decided I wouldn’t be pessimistic or prematurely discouraged, rather I would be cautiously optimistic and hope I would make some progress. I stopped by the studio where I had my shots taken and explained to them that what was required as I’d been told the last time were two black and white passport photos not cut into individual shots but left as one. She told me it would take an hour so off I went in search of a cyber café to do some e-mail. My fave one’s server was down so I ended up at the one next to the butchery. (remember the one that gets the meat shipments in boxes with Arabic lettering?) I did my correspondence, checked the dismal performance of my bracket (Wisconsin-Milwaukee? Syracuse? Are you kidding me?) I went back to the studio and she handed me an envelope with the photos and I took them out and they were cut. I slowly lowered my face, shook it slightly and then patiently explained to her what I had wanted, uncut photos and she in turn explained patiently that the photos came out inverted when next to each other and not side by side. I asked why she cut them and she asked me why not? If they were going to be used on an ID they would get cut anyway. Can’t argue with that logic as that’s what I’d been thinking every time I read the haphazardly posted requirements, all of which contradicted each other and never explained why the passport shots must come joined at the hip.

She then told me that just around the corner was a photo studio that did Polaroid shots in black and white and it would be possible for me to get them done that way. So I glanced at my watch, about 9.30 and figured I could spend another hour while they got done. I went to the store in question, inquired whether it was possible, they said yes, I asked how much, about 300 shillings ($3.50), how long, 2 hours. I looked at them, said thank you and walked out and caught the next matatu heading toward the government office. At this point I was still calm, so calm that I figured I’d just go there and if they turned me away for lack of proper photos I’d first verify I had all the proper documents etc. I got there, went to father’s office first to get his ID again which he parted with, with much angst. I flew across the highway (6 lanes, divided, pedestrian walk which is a joke, no traffic light) I got into the line for (and I will kindly describe it) the initial processing office. This is located in the actual building but right near the entrance so the line snaked outside to the front and I was about the fifteenth person to join.

It was about 10.30 by now, and sun was playing hide and seek with the clouds. It had rained the previous night and the day had started out sort of chilly so I’d brought along my anorak. I didn’t care if it rained while I stood outside I was going to get something done with the ID. I had a brought a book along with me so I started reading while more people joined the queue. I was lucky this time, no one anxious to cuddle me just yet and baths had been a priority that day. All was going well although the line moved slowly but I had my book. The sun eventually came out and oh yes, because of the bleak forecast on the morning news, I had not bothered to slap on some sunblock or bring my sunglasses so I had no choice but to roast in the heat. I found a tube of lotion in my bag and basted myself, hoping it had some sort of UV protection factor in it. The line shuffled forward slowly, more people rushed to join from the back and I kept reading and tanning. I would look up when the light became too harsh on my pages and check out the progress on various queues that were forming all over the place at various tin doors. I felt sorry for whoever had to use the facilities, as there were none to speak of. I know the men always went behind the tin shack that housed the officers who would usher me along the road to registration. I went back to my book (Birdsong by Faulk), trying to engross myself in it while ignoring the mumblings of my fellow lines folk. This time the queue was more “civilized” (I hate that word but really can’t think of a better replacement right now). I recognized some of the people, as one’s who’d been turned away the Tuesday before because there was no film (I later found out what the film was for).

My queue moved forward slowly, I glanced at my watch and noted it was about noon by now and there were only four people ahead of me. I glanced back and the line had grown considerably. I rummaged through my bags; made sure I had my passports, dad’s ID & my birth certificate and copies of all these documents in order and the damn passport shots. I gave a short prayer, not for eventual success in obtaining the ID but rather to keep the sense of calm and sanity that I had maintained so far. At last! I was at the front of the line and I took out everything once again, made sure it was in order and the door opened and it was action. I walked in; the same man who’d turned me away was there. He smiled and greeted me politely and even shook my hand as I sat down. He asked whether I had everything and I said, “Yes, I think so.” He then asked why he’d sent me away the first time as he perused the documents I lay before him and I said it was for not having the copy of my father’s ID. He saw that I had it and said, “Good, everything looks like it’s in order. Do you have the photos?” I said yes and reached into my folder with trembling fingers to pull out the blatantly cut up shots but he said, “No, I don’t need those, they’re for later.” I sighed and figured I had gotten this far, let’s see how much further I can go. He took out a long yellow form and filled and another short yellow form. They were basically identical, asking my name, parents’ names and address information. The short form was more of a checklist of personal information while the long one was slightly more detailed requiring more background information. He filled out the forms and kept talking to me, asking me why I had come back, how long I intended to stay, what my plans were. He asked me where I was from and I told him where. (Ok folks, quick lesson, a lot Kenyans have two homes, the first one most likely is in the city, in my case, Nairobi and the other home is where your family originated from and most usually have built holiday homes and still have some family in the area). This man was also from my tribe and asked me if I intended to go back to the village. I replied that I did intend to visit at some point and he leered at me and said, “No, a girl like you needs to keep it in the family, eh? (family being tribe) We need to stick together, you should go home and find a nice man.” He chuckled, I forced a fixed smile and tried to change the subject. I asked him where I needed to go next and he wrote down the room number, which I’ll call 2B. No mention of what I had to do there, just to complete the forms and go to that room. It was about 12.30 so I found a desk near the main entrance and started to fill out the forms.

Like I said it required some biographical information but I had no idea the extent of what was needed. They wanted my name, family names, my constituency, district, division, my location, sub location, my tribe, clan and sub-group, my family clan name, village, sub-village and sub-sub village location. All this being asked of someone who has never voted in this country and on top of that, despite the fact I was born and raised in Nairobi before I left for the home of the brave, I was told by “keep it in the family guy” that my own info was not required and that it was my father’s information that was essential (Again, I pity the kid that’s an orphan.) Suddenly I was scrambling for my phone, texting my brother and asking him, what constituency I belonged to and the sub groups that I was part of and he had no clue. I looked at the back of my dad’s ID and thank goodness most of that info was listed there. So I hurriedly filled in everything but I had left some spaces blank and just hoped I’d get a kind soul to help me out. I went back outside and to my dismay, the queue for 2B resembled the chaos that was apparent the prior week. So I stood off a little ways away from the pack while I tried to figure out everything that was required. I stood wilting in the heat, hoping some sort of semblance would overcome the pack in front of me as they pushed and clawed their way to the front, all the while agitating the officials inside who would periodically appear to yell at them, urging them to get into two lines. Then the officials started picking people at random from the back so my heart soared thinking, my strategy to distance myself might pay off but alas, I’m short so it took a while. Finally one of them, and I’ll call him A. Hole came out with a bunch of white forms and started handing them out to people once he glanced at their documents. I decided to join the pack and pushed my way forward and thrust my papers in his face. He looked at them and said, “Kuja saa nane.” Come at 2 o’clock. So I sighed, gathered my things and walked towards dad’s office.

It was one already and I was thinking I would have to get another matatu and go into town to get a bite to eat as the places around that area looked fairly dodgy. I went to return the ID, which was received like a long lost child and as luck would have it, my father was on his way out to lunch with his grad researcher and invited me along. Pleasant lunch, I recounted what had happened so far, he called me impatient and said, “Welcome to Kenya, deal with it” (Patience is a virtue I have apparently struggled with from childhood. I don’t deny that as a somewhat true assessment but over here, it’s inefficiency and incompetence that have driven me to further lack it). Chat, chat, ok, almost two o’clock, so I head back to his office and collect all my things as I wasn’t sure whether I would be done early enough to come back and fetch them. I run across the highway of madness and find myself back at 2B. Again, people are packing themselves around the door, A. Hole coming out to yell and wag his finger at people calling them idiots. I got into what I hoped looked like the correct line but you couldn’t really see into the shack eh…office to know where you’re supposed to be. I tried to read but gave up shortly when my Right to Space was revoked and a grandma parked herself on my ass. This lady was right on me, almost climbing on top of me in an attempt to somehow absorb herself into my body if it meant she’d get closer to the door. I stood firm, trying to stick out elbows as I pretended to read, planting my feet firmly, slightly apart as though bracing myself for impact. Did this deter her? Oh no, in fact she was determined to use my now solid stature as a leaning post while trying to look forward between the crook of my jutting elbow.

I looked heavenward and squinted immediately as the sun was now out in full force. A. Hole came out again to yell and pick people at random. All in all, I gathered there were three men and a woman in this room. There was A. Hole (take a big guess as to what that means) who received the registration payments of about 50shillings (about 75¢), then there was Newt (this guy was on a power trip of epic mileage and would tell people that he wasn’t going to help them that day just because) & Newbie (because he was the only one who hadn’t picked up on the true nature of government officials in Kenya…yet) At about 3, I’d just about had it. A. Hole had come out and in between his rants and raves had asked who needed to pay for their registration. I pushed my way to the front and into the shack. There were about desks scattered all around, mountains of application forms piled in filing trays, and a Polaroid camera set up in the one of the corners. I eyed it suspiciously while fishing for change from my purse. I pulled out 50 shillings in coins as I thought convenience is what this man wanted. I had a hundred shilling note tucked away somewhere but jingled the coins anyway. A burly civilian dressed officer pointed me into a corner right next to the A. Hole’s desk and I waited patiently for my turn. When it came up, I put my paperwork on the table and he turned one page and said, “You need the Chief’s signature and I don’t want change, only notes.” I took out the hundred and he looked at me again, “I don’t give change.” He then scrunched my papers together and shoved them in my direction.

I walked out, looking at the queue that was now growing, tears prickling my eyes in frustration. I seriously thought about leaving at this point but there was no way I was going to come and burn again the following day. I went back into the main building and found a secretary and asked her where his office was. She pointed me to a closed door and I knocked on it and went in without waiting for an answer. Not being rude, I just realized I needed to start being a bit of a bully if I wanted to get anywhere. There was a man in there reading some files and I asked him where the Chief was and he said that he’d be coming in the next half hour. (The Chief is the administrator of a location and apparently he has to sign off on all documents) I waited for all of five minutes and then went to one of the nearby dodgy food places and changed the hundred shilling note into fifties so I could use the change for my matatu fare.

I went back to stand at the chief’s door and was joined later by this woman. I asked her whether she was waiting for the chief, she nodded yes. We stared at a couple of officers coming and going through the doors and one went into a restricted room and came out carrying a pistol rather carelessly by his side. I gathered my things and held them tightly in case the gun went off. He actually started to load it standing a few feet away from me while talking and laughing with his colleagues, pointing the gun in my general direction while he loaded the clip. I held my breath and inched away until he walked away with them and went into a separate office. I started chatting with lady and found out that she’d actually tried to get her replacement ID from another office and had to come to this one as she’d been asked for 200 shillings “to hasten her application”, by a government officer, money she couldn’t obviously afford. She said, she wasn’t sure this office would be any different but she had no choice but to try. We chatted for a bit and watched this woman whom I will politely assess as a call girl come through and she marched straight to me and asked where people got their ID cards. I pointed her in the direction of the first long queue I’d gone through three times in a row. She marched straight through the door ignoring the people who’d been standing and waiting for a long time. A short while later, she came out with the same yellow forms I’d sweated for the whole morning and off to room 2 B where she once again jumped the line.

I was now livid at this point but tried to stay calm and not become the hysterical, angry and frustrated mess that were my inner emotions. I gathered my paperwork, went back to the 2 B and badgered my way through. By this time the people in line had assumed I was making some progress so they let me through without much fuss. A. Hole was talking softly and laughing gently with the “pro” while I stood behind her and his eyes fell on me and he told me to wait outside. So I did, simmering slowly and in about 5 minutes, she came out holding an original receipt for her ID card, which he told her to come back for at the end of the week. I went in and put my paperwork on the desk, standing next to him (no such animals as chairs). I gave him the money, which he threw into a drawer that was filled with incredibly with notes of all denominations so I know he’d been giving change left and right.

I bit my lip and kept quiet, not wanting to aggravate him in anyway. He was putting coded numbers next to all the tribe, location etc. information that was on the yellow sheets, I’m assuming for census information. He then laughed and hit my arm with his pen (more playful not to hurt), “What’s wrong with you? Do you not know your sub-location and family name?” I had asked my dad what the family name was and he told me but A. Hole scratched it right out and did a variation of my last name. Then he hit me again, “Where have you been, why don’t you have a card? How do you not know these things?” The affidavit was right there but I had to explain why I’d been out of the country and perhaps that’s why I didn’t know a sub-village from a sub-location and etc. info a city kid has no clue about. “You are wasting my time you know that?” he said, pointing the pen at me at this point. I kept quiet, staring at a mark on his desk. He kept badgering me and poking me and then he started to speak to me in my tribal language….a language I have not spoken in complete sentences oh, my entire life as nobody ever spoke it with regularity at home. I told him quietly that I didn’t understand what he was saying. He stared at me incredulously and started to whale on me, “What do you mean you don’t speak the language? What if you are working in that region and you can’t communicate with the people? What if your husband (he assuming I’d marry into the tribe) is posted in that area and you can’t speak the language, eh?” At this point I wanted to ask what I worked in an area where that was not the primary language. I mumbled something about being out of the country, staring straight ahead fighting not to let a tear out of my eyes. He shook his head and went back to writing saying, “Usini letea maneno mjinga.” Which means, “Don’t bring me stupid stories” or “Don’t bring me stories stupid”, depending on his connotation and I will safely assume he meant both.

At this point I was so close to crying but there have been very few men worth my tears and A. Hole was not going to join that club so I bit down and focused on my determination to get this over and done with. Over and over my awesome brother’s words kept rolling in my head, “Just write it down in your blog, you’ll feel better.” So I concentrated on what the little shit was doing. He then made me put my left thumb on a flat ink-rolled block and then smeared the print on the yellow receipt paper, which he handed me. Then he called out for the next person. I asked him where I should go and he pointed me in the vague direction of two desks. One manned by Newbie and the other by a very bored lady. I went to Newbie who looked at my paper work and at first glance asked me why I didn’t have a Christian name. This is a question I’m commonly asked as to why I don’t have a Christian name like Joan, Sally or Cathy. I told him that it’s just the way I was named. He then asked me whether I was “saved”. I kept quiet at first, still stuck in the land of the free, I was/still operating on a separate church and state mentality. I wanted to tell him, “Isn’t that illegal you asking me that?” and then I remembered where I was so I shut up. “Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior?” I gave a little smile and said, “Why do you ask?” “Do you love the Lord?” he persisted. I realized I was going to have to answer this man or this was my stop for the day. I started to open my mouth and he laughed and then pointed me to the bored lady. I walked over to her, still in shock and she gave me a white form to fill out, with my name, address, d.o.b and signature. It had space for all my fingerprints and a four-finger palm print followed by individual thumb print boxes. I left the shack and went back to the Chief’s office to see if he’d returned and but he was still MIA.

It was about a quarter to four by now and the offices closed at five. I filled out the form and went back to 2 B. (by the way, there is a 2 A, not sure what happens there.) I walked back to Newbie’s desk and he took out yet another form, which I had to fill out with the same particulars as before but this one contained the actual ID card info and typeset. I was getting more encouraged because Newbie was actually telling me exactly what to do and talking quietly at the same time. He even didn’t chase me out of the office and just pointed me to a less busy part of his desk to finish the application. I think he’d overheard A. Hole berating me and may have been showing me some kindness.

Newt and A. Hole were chatting now quite loudly about the people still waiting outside and looking for a cut-off person for the day as it was four now. They would keep yelling at people telling them to move away or they’d close the doors and then they would single out individuals and laugh about them. Newbie called out to Newt who I know gathered as the photographer and told him that I was ready for my close-up. By the way, I’m not crying racism or favoritism but I did notice something disturbing. A Hindu man showed up with his daughter at about 3 while I was in line and I watched them be personally escorted through all the checkpoints such that she was done before I was. At first I thought he was a celebrity or something and asked but no one knew him but there were mumbles that money had indeed exchanged hands at some point to facilitate the hasty processing. I walked over to Newt and he asked me to sit and then almost shyly asked if I had any passport photos. I took out the ones I’d just done that morning, not really giving a damn whether I’d be sent away, I’d come this far already. He looked at them and threw them on the desk and said, “Poor quality, I’ll take my own.” I shuffled back to the stool, sat down and blinked away the thought of how much money I’d pissed on taking eight b/w passport shots as they were useless now. Could I get a refund? Before I sat down, he took all my fingerprints: Each finger three times on three different parts of all the different documents I’d managed during this odyssey. Then he took my shots, told me to wait and so I went to the dodgy restaurant and got myself a much-needed drink as I was dying of thirst. The idiot that I was of course didn’t carry bottled water or any liquid of some sort.

I walked back into the office and my shots were ready! This was the first thing that had been done quickly all this time, even faster than taking the now redundant photos. I stood next to the bored lady as she glued the pictures on the form. She tore out the precious receipt that I would need to pick up the ID later on. She then asked me for the now forgotten Chief’s signature. I told her he wasn’t there and she told me to just check in case he was back and if not she’d put it with all the other applications waiting for his signature. She pointed to a teetering pile that had now collected in a tray. I told her, I’d check and off I went to look for him. There were a couple of officers standing there and one was wearing a plain short-sleeved khaki suit. I went up to him and asked, “Is the Chief here?” He scowled at me, snatched my papers and walked into the office. It hit me that this was the guy, a bright shining civil servant, back to work at quarter to five, just back from a lunch he took at one. As I followed him, I caught the distinct whiff/odor/eau de booze coming from his body. He sat down heavily in his chair and glared at me with blood shot eyes then signed my documents. He had been drinking; at almost five in the afternoon on a Monday, a government official responsible for signing all the documents that come through the busy shacks where national IDs are issued was intoxicated.

He shoved the papers my way and I took them quickly and hurried back to the shack where the cut-off point had been marked. I found Bored Lady and gave them to her and said, I found him. She looked at me in shock, “You did?” I nodded and she turned to where he’d signed and she said, “yes, you did.” As though in wonder. I asked her when I should come get ID and she seemed in a daze as though finding the man was next to impossible which I’m beginning to gather is quite a feat. She mumbled something I couldn’t hear and I asked, “2 months?” as she’d told the person ahead of me. She nodded, “yes, come in two months.” It wasn’t until I sat down to think about it that I realize the 2 month mark must be for the people who didn’t succeed in getting his signature the first time around so I’m going to be brave and check back in 2 weeks.

I will also add, these workers must be overworked, underpaid and definitely under appreciated hence their behavior and dismal work ethics but it doesn’t necessitate treating people like animals and being blatantly mean. This is just one aspect of government here but imagine all the other sectors like Agriculture, Labor, Security, Foreign Office and what everyday people probably have to go through. On my way home, a friend of mine was on the same matatu and I was telling her about my day and she confessed that she’s never gotten her six-year-old daughter’s birth certificate. When she first went to get it, she’d been taken on the run around for two weeks and when she finally got the appropriate paperwork she was told brusquely that the certificate was lost because she took too long and she would have to start from scratch. Unless she wanted to grease some wheels by shelling out some TKK – Toa Kitu Kidogo (give a little something) or Chai ya Wazee (‘tea’ for the old men, tea being alcohol).

There is much corruption in Kenya and it’s blatant and it comes from the top and the trickle effect through the system is a source of much trial, angst and despair of the average to poor Kenyan. Honestly, the ministers are operating in the air up there and cannot see what’s going on at ground level with the ordinary folks and something’s brewing. People can only take so much. There's so much distrust about public officials as they are full of empty promises and this administration is beginning to look like a bit of a bad joke. I can only imagine Newbie, Newt and A. Hole as being just as frustrated with their jobs and having to process documents for people who make so much more money than they do and dealing with having to work in that office all day and not being paid much or enough. I wouldn't go as far as abuse people but I would be frustrated as well.

I'm much better now than I was before. All I have to look forward to know is trying to get my driver's license and I don't drive stick. Oh I wasted the opportunities to learn from an excellent driver (New Yorker's don't count) and I may regret that once I start.

Later darls.

2005-03-16T03:54:00.000-05:00

First, would really like to apologize for the language. I was on a roll yesterday and in my haste forgot to censor myself so please forgive me. I went home last night, upset but relieved that I'd gotten everything off my chest. Had a pleasant evening and when I went to bedI decided not to dwell on my misfortunes so slept with a clear mind. Woke up very early because my niece had decided to steal her mother's phone and called me about 4 times in the span of two minutes; each time I answered she'd giggle and hang up. Urghh! Ashley Simpson pop-up ad on computer! Whew, gone. Oh great, now Yahoo! is down. Oh, thank you to my wonderful amazing fluffy sister who posted my blog yesterday. For some reason I couldn't get onto the website and I tried from 3 different cafes so I e.mailed it to her and she did it. I do adore her but I think she misses me more as a tax dependant.

So anyway, got up, had a lurvly cuppa, went and bought the newspaper and first thing I saw was the attack in North-Western Kenya on the Somali border. Apparently it has been going on for a while. Check out www.eastandard.net which is the Daily Standard dated March 16th . The pictures are absolutely horrific. I was reading the paper in a matatu and gagged when I read the story. The woman on the front who's lying on a hospital bed with a bandaged arm and chest; her name is Fatuma Abdullahi, 23. "She sustained multiple gun wounds on her abdomen and had her breast chopped off." No words to describe that. Apparently it's been an ongoing arguement between two tribes about land. Awful, awful.

So today I've decided to commit random acts of kindness as I'll feel better about myself and the world in general and so far I'm in a pretty buoyant mood so it's working. I strongly encourage y'all to try it. I'm running errands around town and I have to go grocery shopping in a bit. Going to go to my cousin's salon. Very sad, she said they haven't had a client for days, people are broke, can't afford to look good anymore. I think I'll get a manicure and try con someone to come with me.

Parliament starts again today. They were on holiday or something. I wonder what the main topic will be, oh I know. "We deserve a raise for all the hard work we've done!" Motion passed, instant salary hikes, the gap continues to grow. Honestly, some of the politicians here live on an entirely different planet. They want raises, mileage allowances, money, money, money. Lol, if you read about the fake currency ring that was busted last week, four ministers were the biggest victims of an elaborate WEST African scam. I'll try get the particulars about it as it is an interesting story.

More later, good day though.