Hujambo!

We’ve reached Watamu! I’m not sure if that’s what it means, but in Swahili tamu means sweet, and the plural form of people is “wa”, like mkenya (Kenyan) becomes wakenya (Kenyans). I’ve been here before with Sara and some other volunteers. It’s a great little touristy beach getaway with lots of Italians. You can tell there’s an Italian influence because the tuk-tuks say “Piaggio”, the kids shout, “Ciao!”, and there is a gelatto shop on every corner. I’ve been longing for gelatto ever since we left Nairobi so we plan on eating it at least twice a day. We’ve also been eating a lot of mangos; there is a great apple-mango hybrid that is really delicious and cheap. Randi swore left and right that she didn’t like fresh mango but I guess they don’t make ‘em like this in the US. Karibu Kenya (welcome to Kenya)!

Here are a few pictures from Fort Jesus in Mombasa and the beach in Watamu:

We’ve decided we’ll kick it here for a few days before heading back to Nairobi. Just about thirty minutes up the coast is the town of Malindi, where there are more mangos and gelatto to be eaten.

I haven’t been on hiatus, I’ve been on holiday! Actually I’ve been working a lot, but I did make it across the border this past weekend for a little rest and relaxation. One thing I realized during my 24-hour stay in Tanzania was that my Swahili is permanently Kenyanized. I’ve already accepted that I’m nowhere near fluent by Kenyan standards, but I’m a disaster by Tanzanian standards. You see, after their independence Tanzania embraced Swahili as the national language in order to unite their country as a common people, no longer colonized and no longer a collection of tribes. They were Tanzanians now! Kenya chose both Swahili and English, and while people here speak Swa, it’s kinda a watered-down, Englishized version (“sheng”). Kenyans even make fun of Tanzanian Swahili; it’s a chore, it’s boring, and it even sounds funny. And I know it’s terrible, but I do too…

To back up kidogo (a bit), I went to Tanzania to get a new visa; both Kenyan and Tanzanian. My one year, multiple entry Tanzanian visa expired earlier this year, and my Kenyan one is due for mid December. Sure you can go to the embassy in Nairobi but that’s no fun! Border runs are fun! Besides, Arusha is only five hours away, so it’s like living in San Diego and going to Mexico to eat tacos for dinner. Besides, I’m a local in Arusha by now. I’ve been there two times before so I’ve got the hang of which hotel to stay in, where to eat, and how to get around. I’ve always liked Arusha because it’s a mid-sized town with lots of local life buzzing around at night; finger food is plenty and cheap, and I’ve never felt unsafe there.
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It’s been my observation over the last two years that you don’t go to a restaurant if you want to eat sweet chapati. Much like the most delicious burritos in Southern California are found in “hole in the wall” Mexican food joints, the tastiest chapatis are found in vibanda (shacks/sheds) all over Kenya. It’s a well-established fact: if you want a nice, hot, fresh chapati like you’ve never tasted before, it has to be cooked over a wood fire on a pan of questionable cleanliness by a mama on the side of the road.

I live in Westlands, an uppity suburb of Nairobi where there is a lot of work being done to make new housing and business complexes for upper class Kenyans and expatriates. These shacks pop up to meet the demand of the day laborers who do work on the construction projects around the neighborhood. There was no food in the house this morning (and today was Kenyatta Day… no work), so I walked over to the junction up the road and had a chapati and a cup of chai. People driving by must think I’m crazy, but everyone there knows me already. I buy milk every day from one dude. I buy four chapati on Saturday mornings from one mama. Sometimes I even go there for lunch (greens, beans, etc, all for twenty shillings or so). The guys even shout Niaje?! (What’s up?!) when I walk by.
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I know I haven’t written about cooking recently, but tonight I discovered something delicious and comforting from my past: rice milk. I used to eat it all the time when I was a kid. Take a bowl of white rice, pour some warm milk over it, add a pinch of sugar and cinnamon, and voila! I guess it’s a popular dish worldwide. It’s eaten everywhere from Norway to Malaysia, so there are plenty of variations. I guess the name is a bit misleading and only refers to one variety of this sweet dish. My version isn’t a pudding or purée, just rice sitting in a bowl of warm milk!

I remember eating this on family camping trips when I was a kid. More recently, I remember requesting warm milk for my rice when eating at the dining hall during my first year at Chico State University (2002-2003). It’s great when you have some left over rice and you want a sweet snack in the morning, especially if it’s cold outside (or if you’re just feeling lazy). On a side note, I had some German friends over recently and they mentioned that it’s a popular dish in Germany.

I know the people in Tala think I’m a Jew/Israelite, but maybe I’m German after all?

Few of you have any clue how I live. Other than the “for just a fifty cents a day, you can sponsor…” commercials which used to air on TV, most people in the United States don’t know anything about what goes on in Africa. There aren’t any of those kids with flies in their eyes, swollen tummies, etc in Tala… I think you have to go to the slums of Nairobi to find those (Kibera, Mathare, Kariobangi). In order to both quench your appetite for information and to educate those of you who are clueless (or have terrible imaginations), here’s a little bit about where I’ve been staying for the past two years…

I live in a town called Tala. It’s not so much a town as a big market where people from surrounding villages come to conduct business. There aren’t many people who actually live in Tala (maybe 5,000?), but there are always people in transit through it, especially on market days. Most of the people in Tala come from one of the surrounding towns or villages (Nguluni, Kangundo, Kathiani, Sengani, Matungulu, Katine, Kinyui, Mitaboni, Kikambuani, etc!). We have two “market” days (Tuesday and Friday) and the place is packed on those days. You can find anything in Tala on a market day: cows, cabbage, honey, brooms, bows/arrows, rope, spare tires, speakers, drugs, prostitutes… anything.
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