Wednesday, December 14, 2005

Life so far....

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!

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

Mombasa!!!!

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.

Tuesday, September 06, 2005

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

Saturday, August 27, 2005

Camping Part 1

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.

Friday, August 19, 2005

Always after Labor Day here

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!

Monday, August 15, 2005

Donkeys and food

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.

Tuesday, July 26, 2005

Glorious Food!

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.

Thursday, July 21, 2005

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

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.

Monday, June 27, 2005

Illicit brews & government crooks

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.

Friday, June 24, 2005

Boys or men, pizza etc.

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?

Saturday, June 18, 2005

Are they like us?

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…

Sunday, June 05, 2005

Fair and Lovely

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

Friday, June 03, 2005

Silly Girl

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.

Saturday, May 28, 2005

Form is temporary, class is permanent

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

Thursday, May 26, 2005

So sorry!

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

Wednesday, May 25, 2005

Kenyatta National Hospital Crisis

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

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

Of Tweed Coats and Toilet Paper Part 2

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.