Hujambo!

We’ve arrived in Dar Es Salaam. Dirty, hairy (my face), and with a little girl on our lap (Randi’s lap). Now that I’ve had a shower, a decent night of sleep, and gotten a shave at the local barbor, I guess it wasn’t that bad (and actually, the longest ride goes to the thirty-hour Kenya-Ethiopia trip, and worst was probably the four-hours-on-a-bumpy-ass-dirt-road-stop-in-every-village Malindi-Lamu ride Sara and I took in 2007). Our bus from Moshi (the main backpackers’ town near Mt. Kilimanjaro) to Dar Es Salaam took longer than we expected, and by the time we arrived lastnight it was late and we were tired, hungry, and dehydrated. We must have been not too bad off (or just in survival mode) because I still managed to navigate us to the YWCA hostel where Anique and I stayed last year. For future reference, out-of-town buses will drop you off at the bus station. As soon as you get out a million taxi dudes will be harassing you. Tell them this: “Wee, bwana, dalla dallas zipo mingi! Siwezi chukua taxi!” (Dude, there are so many dalla dallas. I can’t take a taxi!). Just grab your bags and follow the locals outside the bus station and pay your two or three hundred shillings to get to the city center.
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A few Nairobi VSO volunteers got together to have a small Christmas thingy. Randi and I are, of course, a very entertaining duo so we were invited. We decorated a small tree, told stories, and had a nice meal. Sandy is a pro when it comes to brownies and I do spin a mean salad (salad spinner!). There are no pictures of me, which is good because I just got a haircut and it looks a bit dorky (so count on me wearing a hat for any pictures in the next few weeks).

Randi’s been here almost two weeks now, and I’ve taken her to all the local joints that I know. She is even starting to crack people up with funny Swahili jokes, recognizing streets, matatus, etc. We didn’t plan so well, but tomorrow we’re definitely on the move to Tanzania. It’s been a hectic week but we’ve booked two tickets for Arusha for Christmas morning. Who knows if we’ll be able to find matatus to town at 5:30 in the morning, but we’ll go a bit early just in case. The tickets are only 1,000 shillings each (about 12 US dollars), so I guess we could just try again on Saturday if we are unlucky. If all goes well we’ll be in Arusha by lunch time. Arusha ain’t no thing cuz I’ve been there a few times.
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Randi has taken to the streets of Nairobi with vigor. From the moment she arrived she showed a prowess at navigating Nairobi’s busy streets, jumping out of moving matatus, and eating ugali (very thick corn flour porridge, staple food in Kenya) and vegetables with her hands. After we picked her up at the airport we stopped in town to get some pizzas. As we watched Randi weave in and out of traffic in front of us, one of my friends asked me if Randi had ever been to Africa before; she was surprised when I told her, “No!” In due time Randi will surely kuwa mjuaji (to be someone who knows… like to know the streets)!
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Randi and I went to Lake Naivasha last night. This satisfied two items on our fake scavenger hunt: the Great Rift Valley and hippopotamuses. Here’s the funny thing, we don’t have pictures of either of them; you’ll just have to take it on faith that we actually went there. It’s sad, I know, but you’ll live. The Rift Valley does have some awesome lookout points as you descend, but they’re really touristy and I just don’t think I could handle it (plus, getting the matatu to stop would have been really embarrassing). The hippos only come out at night, but they stay a bit far away, and we’ve all seen hippos before, so I didn’t bother to capture any.

We arrived a bit late to the Fisherman’s Camp at Lake Naivasha, and by then the only room left was this ritzy thing for 4,000 shillings (about 60 US dollars), then dinner was also expensive. Oops. Well we had a nice time and saw some hippos wandering around at night. Lots of white people too.

More pictures here: http://thefro.org/gallery2/v/2009/naivasha/

I’ve got a new zinger for my Swahili street lingo arsenal: Tunachukua mathree! We’re taking a matatu! In Swahili tatu means “three”, so a matatu in sheng is a “mathree.” This new response is way better than getting upset because, in addition to leaving everyone in the vicinity laughing, it establishes several things all in one go:

• I’m not a tourist
• I know sheng
• I don’t want a taxi

I guess it’s a new tactic I’ve developed in the last few weeks, just in time for Randi’s visit. One thing that peeves me about being white in Nairobi is that everyone thinks you want a taxi. I’m pretty sure I’m a statistical out lier, but I really hate taking taxis. Unless it’s late at night or someone is dying, I’d rather take a matatu. Maybe I’ve turned over a new leaf, or maybe I’m just in a good mood because Randi is here; in any case, I think I’ve learned a valuable lesson.

In other news, I think I made peace with the little girl I yelled at the other day. I still feel bad about the first encounter, but I think in the future I’ll be better. That little girl hangs around Mama Ngina street in Nairobi’s business district, which just so happens to be next to one of the coffee joints I frequent (Java House). She ran over as soon as she saw me:
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