Maisha katika Kenya

Anecdotes is the name of the game.

Kenyan texting is really skillful.

Ex.

“wow.. tht sounds nice.. am bout to go home.”
(Wow. That sounds nice. I am about to go home.)

“hi!av juz gt ya massage.am gd an kul. Thanx 4 remembering.nyt”
(Hi! I have just got your message. I am good and cool. Thanks for remembering. Good night.)

“HI,op u guys arived safly.av a lovely nyt”
(Hi. I hope you guys arrived safely. Have a lovely night.)

And my responses usually go something like this:

“I am so glad to hear from you. I hope you are having a great time. We will talk soon!”
(I will never be able to text like you.)


Our favorite foods in Kenya:
beans in a bag
chapati – fried flour tortillas
samosas – plump, triangle, fried, meat-filled, crispy
croissants
pilau – spiced rice
ugali – flour, dough-like food eaten with your hands
sausages
chips – French fries
donuts - more like a bread dough (they also have a long donut, cut down the middle and filled with whip cream known as an “American hot dog”)
Digestive Biscuits
Gritty Peanut Butter
Chai
Fanta
Mango Juice
Passion, mango, papaya, banana, oranges


Prices in Kenya:
Matatu ride home: 20 ksh / 30 ksh after 5pm ($.25 / $.40)
1 litre bottled water: 30 ksh ($.40)
My cheap cell phone: 2,500 ksh ($35)
Sunday Daily Nation News Paper: 40 ksh ($.55)
Lunch (Delicious whole chicken breast, plate of rice, Fanta): 150 ksh ($2)
Texts: 7 ksh ($.10)
Cab ride home to town: 200 ksh ($2.65)
Cab ride to Karen: 1,500 ksh ($20)
Pantene: 600 ksh ($8)
Banana: 10 ksh ($.13)
Candy bar: 80 ksh ($1.05)
DVD Series season: 100 ksh ($1.30)
DVD with 10 movies: 200 ksh ($2.65)

I recently went shopping at the local markets, not the tourist markets. These markets sell the clothes that Americans and Europeans donate. All shirts at set at 100 ksh ($1.30). I bought an organic cotton shirt and a JCrew strapless spring dress. They were both in need of washing, but are quite excellent. I worked hard to for these finds.

Speaking of clothes washing, all clothes in Kenya are hand washed. A hired woman and sometimes my host mom wash my clothes almost daily. I am in charge of washing my underwear. This led to a dilemma – I have never hand washed clothes in this quantity before. I thought, “What would a washing machine do?” My mantra is now, WWAWMD? So, I began swirling the water for a wash cycle, then rung them for the spin cycle, then did a rinse cycle, then another spin cycle. I was a little machine.

Time is at a standstill. There are no seasons, so to me, it is NOT October. I live in an alternate universe in which time does not pass. Without a temperature change, there is no time change. I am adjusting to the temperature though. Today I was freezing and it was 68 degrees. I tell the people at the markets I cannot buy long sleeves because I get too hot. They are not surprised. I sweat through my clothes on most days.

My morning routine is rush, rush, rush, according to Kenyan culture. Chippa often asks if I am late or if I overslept. However, this is also the person who lazily sips his breakfast noodles and complains he will be late for class in four hours because he has to fully enjoy his breakfast.

I like the relaxation here - it is calming. I have not had white hairs! I don’t feel guilty about being late. IT IS AWESOME! I have never been this way in my life; I used to running out the door while packing my bag, finishing my homework and eating breakfast.

People say some pretty interesting things to me when I tell them I am American. Most of the time it is, “OH! OBAMA!” People really really love Obama here. He is plastered to most matatus. Sidenote - Today I saw the 90s Detroit Pistons logo on a matatu. It was really exciting.

Other than Obama, I have been asked, “What state are you from” (once it was, “What senate are you from?”). When in Naivasha, the little children seemed to know only one English phrase. “How are you?” was chanted by hundreds of children as we biked past. Imagine a four year old jumping up and down and screaming, “HowareyouHowareyouHowareyou HowareyouHowareyouHowareyouHowareyouHowareyouHowareyouHowareyou.”

Riding the matatu has been really fun. I quickly learned that they take different routes that may not pass my house. In which case I have to wait until I recognize something and make a fuss so I can get off. Matatu conductors can also have an attitude. For some reason I keep getting asked if I am ok. I must have a pained look on my face, and the combination of that plus being white, it seems like my first, terrifying, experience on a matatu. A few days ago, I accidently got on a full matatu, meaning I had to stand. It is not a big deal, everyone else does it, but I feel more safe sitting so I can guard my backpack. So, I looked around like a lost child for a while and a man graciously gave up his seat. I gave him an “asante” and sat down. The matatu conductor turned to me and snidely said, “I hope you said thank you.”