Sunday, June 13, 2010
After my day with Milka on Nina business (see previous post), I headed into town to meet Richard, my first Kenyan friend, who I met in Ghana when we were visiting Daphne in November of 2008. We met at the Hilton, which is a central landmark that is easy to find. We headed to Tamasha, a section of Nairobi with some fun pubs with big open windows and patios, to watch the opening of the World Cup.
We caught up on the past year and a half over a Tusker, the most popular beer in Kenya, which is made here. We sat outside at first, but soon moved inside to get a good spot for the start of the opening ceremony. The opening ceremony was amazing, the dancing and music got the crowd excited as the bar became more and more packed with fans. By the time the first game started, the bar was full and the energy in the room was nearly tangible. There were several spectators who came with vuvuzelas, the long horns that you can hear all throughout the games. En masse, they sound like a pack of angry bees, and in a crowded bar they are deafening and get the crowd very riled up. They are challenging to learn to use, and require strength of lungs and some lip-styling to make the sound come out. It was funny watching many people try to play them. When my turn came around, I put my lips to the horn and blew as I had been instructed, and to my great surprise the horn made a huge, loud and kind of ugly squawk. I hadn’t anticipated to be able to play the vuvuzela on my first try, and involuntarily cheered for myself out loud. I had during this process become so focus on the vuvuzela that I hadn’t realized that there was a break in play, and all my loud squawking and cheering had taken place when the rest of the bar was relatively quiet, making my whole awkward scenario stand out even more than I already stick out, as one of only two white people in the bar. Se la vie, it was all in good fun!
On Saturday morning, Richard and I headed into Nairobi center to visit the Masai market, a large outdoor craft market that is held in a parking lot near City Hall. Many Masai tribes people come to sell their handiwork, as well as many other artisans. We strolled around looking at many things, and I did some souvenir gift shopping and Richard helped me barter to get fair prices. It was amazing to see all the colorful clothing and jewelry, elaborate carvings and other pieces that were available, and of course all the various selling methods, which are impossible to avert as a muzungu.
After the market, Richard and I parted ways as I headed to Muthaiga to visit Radhika’s aunt and uncle, Joan and Davinder in their home. Muthaiga is a beautiful part of Nairobi, and Joan and Davinder’s house is breathtaking. The house is warm and breezy, the sun was shining, and the gardens are alluring. As I arrived, the Korea vs. Greece World Cup game was just starting. Joan is Korean, raised in Brooklyn, and was eager for a win from the country of her heritage. As Joan prepared some snacks and Davinder went for a swim, their son and I walked around the gardens and down to the stream at the bottom of the hill behind the house. The path is scenic, and there are big exotic plants and colourful flowers blooming and enveloping me in their fragrances. I was in heaven.
We sat in the airy family room and ate arrowroot chips with homemade hummus and cheered Korea onto a win in the World Cup! Riding high on the victory, we moved out onto the veranda under an ivy awning overlooking the yard. We had a long lazy lunch beginning with Joan’s homemade onion soup, then sandwiches, salad and finished with Kenyan coffee and seeded bread with fresh honey. Conversation covered everything from our individual upbringings to many questions about Ryan and Radhika and the family back in the states. By the time we finished our lunch the sun had set and I had found a new Korean mom in Kenya! Joan and Davinder dropped me off at the Hilton to meet Vicky, and we plan to meet again on July 1st, when I will spend the night with them before I leave for safari in Masai Mara on July 2nd.
Vicky and I met at the Hilton, and headed back to her apartment in Lang’ata, and up and coming section of Nairobi where many young professionals live. We changed our clothes and headed out to Rafikiz, a club about 5 minutes away from the apartments (Rafiki means friend in Kiswahili). We sat out on the patio and watched a tense World Cup game between the USA and England. Many Kenyans are huge fans of the British football teams, so the club was full of rowdy fans. At one point, I went into the club to use the bathroom, and ran straight into a huge man, easily over 6 foot 5 inches, wearing a plaid cloth tied around his waist. Before I even knew what was happening, I was in the air, wrapped in his big sweaty arms while he jumped up and down cheering and yelling in Kiswahili. My arms were pinned to my sides, so I wasn’t really able to behave in any way engaged in this celebratory dance other than by just randomly yelling and trying to match his pitch. I found PJ in Nairobi, kilt and all!
After the game, the club was bumping and we went inside where we met up with a few of Vicky’s friends and started dancing. Those of you who know me well know that dancing is not my strong suit. I am the epitome of the awkward white girl, and next to Vicky, I just looked like a lost little kid bouncing around uneasily to a wide variety of African music. Vicky was appropriately encouraging, expressing concern any time my enthusiasm level dropped. It took all my concentration to try to hear the beat of the music, move to it and think of things to do all at the same time! I was an amateur among professionals.
After a bit we were hungry, so we ran across the street to a small grill and grabbed two sausages and ate them quickly on our way to a second club. The second club was playing mostly American music, so I at least knew what to expect of many of the beats and tempos here. We met another group of Vicky’s friends, and they were happy to offer me all sorts of dancing pointers. We danced and danced and danced until we were so tired we couldn’t dance anymore! At 3 am, Vicky and I left the club to find a cab home. When we got to the taxi line, the first cab driver was wearing a Phillies baseball cap!
On Sunday I woke up absurdly early (thanks, Greg) and realized we had no boiled or bottled water for drinking and I was thirsty! I spent about 45 minutes trying to boil water in an electric kettle, because I wasn’t sure how to use the gas stove (which is a gas can with a mechanism on top that you open and then light it with a match, like a camping stove but much bigger). The electric kettle had an automatic shut off valve, so I could only boil the water for about one minute at a time. I wasn’t sure how long to boil it but was pretty sure one minute wasn’t enough, so each time I got it boiling, I then had to let it cool, set it to boil again, and so on. Finally, I was able to sit down to a big glass of hot water. Mmmmm.
When Vicky got up, we walked over to the supermarket to get breakfast, and checked out a small airfield that is next door. Lots of small private planes use the Wilson Airport, and it was interesting to see them fly in. The clouds were very low, so it seemed like they were coming out of nowhere, dropping through the clouds and onto the runway. We passed Carnivore, a famous restaurant in Nairobi that is known for serving a wide variety of exotic meats in the style of a Brazilian steakhouse. On our way home we passed Kibera, the largest slum in all of Africa. I am not sure what I expected it to be like, but on that morning it was quiet and seemed barren.
I set off for Nakuru around noon, and found my way not only back to Nairobi town, but also to the matatu station! I slept part of the way, but still saw two herds of zebras on the roadside grazing. I always wish I could take a picture, but the matatus drive too fast. It is nice to be back in Nakuru. Nairobi is fun and exciting, but Nakuru is home.
Sidenote: I had my address wrong in the earlier post. My actual mailing address is:
Alexandra Mack
c/o Jeniffer Gamba
Box 1252
Nakuru, Kenya
Feel free to send me things that you wouldn't mind if they get stolen. Especially photos, etc.
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