Hujambo!

I can’t think of any reason why a police officer in Kenya should get a free ride in a matatu. As far as I know there’s no law that says, “If you see a cop walking, give him a ride.” It happens all the time, though: some cop walking on the side of the road flags a matatu and the guy jumps in. For some reason every non Kenyan I complain to has the gut reaction to tell me that its because cops “serve the public.” Um, hello? Which Kenya do you live in?

Ugh. In the Kenya I live in cops don’t serve the public, they run death squads, beat matatu drivers for turning at the wrong place, and raid gay weddings. The Kenyan police have been consistently rated among the most corrupt institutions in Kenya and even the most corrupt institution in East Africa. I’ve even been hassled by cops a number of times for doing things like not carrying a receipt for my laptop, not wearing a seatbelt, and talking to a friend on the street corner next to my house after dark.
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It’s well established that haggling is ridiculous. There’s nothing new on that front (and it still doesn’t make sense to me), but I am proud to announce that I’ve learned a new tactic: ask them for their “last price” RIGHT AFTER you ask them how much the thing costs.

“Bei ya mwisho?” has revolutionized the way I understand haggling. If the dude says the wooden table costs 3,000 Kenyan shillings (~ 40 US dollars), this tactic gets it immediately down to 2,500. It seems nonsensical but it works; I watched a buddy employ this technique over and over again when we were shopping the other day. We had gone to the Nairobi Ikea (read: dudes in tin shacks on the side of Ngong road making furniture with their hands) in search of a desk for my office (read: living room). In the ened, we knocked off enough money on the table that I decided to throw in a nightstand too!

Funny story: this is the same place I bought my bed frame and my coffee table. After successive visits I now realize I over paid on the coffee table, which explains why he was so excited when I gave him 200 shillings for delivering it. But then again, hiring a pickup truck for delivery costs at least 1,000 shillings, and the coffee table jamaa (dude) actually rode it like 10 km on his bicycle…

The monthly rent for my two-bedroom flat in Westlands is 45,000 Kenyan shillings (600 US dollars) per month. Taking into account that the three-bedroom flats cost a considerable amount more, and that everyone’s rental agreements hike their rent by 10% annually, it’s safe to say that the average rent is around 60,000 shillings per month here. With fifteen or so apartments in the complex, whoever owns this place is looking at close to 1,000,000 shillings per month. Why, then, do we pay three askaris (security guards) 4,000 shillings each per month to protect our fancy asses? That’s fifty three dollars!

The security guards work in shifts; one mzee (old man), Musa, works from 6 am to 6 pm, and then two younger guys come for the graveyard shift. They have the mind-numbing job of opening and closing the gate all day, and protecting all of us and our fancy stuff. I doubt there has ever been an incident, but the electric fence ain’t there for looks, man. Inside these walls families live; families with BMWs, big-screen TVs, and children. You’d think those things would be worth more than a couple hundred bucks a month to protect. This is Nairobbery, after all!
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It’s easy, it’s healthy, and it’s delicious with a cup of tea or coffee. Another bonus is that you can eat it for breakfast, lunch, or dinner (or in the dark). I dabbled a bit with roasting my own peanuts, but buying peanut butter is definitely much easier. Furthermore, one of my well-organized friends has influenced me to buy plenty of extras for my pantry, so I always have some in stock. I’m not sure why I had to re-learn that skill, but it has paid off big time.

I don’t really like sweets very much and, unless I’m out and about pretending to be fancy, I don’t usually eat dessert after dinner. Having said that, I love the sweetness that toasted brown bread, peanut butter, and honey has. That brings me to my point: toast and peanut butter, washed down with a cup of coffee, is the perfect way to end an evening after eating a few grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner.

Good night.

Someone once told me that it was the hot Ukambani sun that made people wander aimlessly around the streets of Tala. It’s funny, but it doesn’t quite explain why we have lots of crazy people in Nairobi (and San Francisco, though. Nairobi estates have these guys who wander around with burlap sacks picking up trash. I haven’t quite figured it out, but for some reason they usually have like three pairs of pants on (a dress code, of sorts?). I even see them walking in pairs sometimes, as if they are roaming the streets as a team. Also, I’m pretty sure they sniff glue, because I can never understand what the hell they are saying.

Today I was walking home down Church Road just after dark and I ran into one who was haphazardly blowing his nose into the air. I was just minding my own business swinging my umbrella and humming and I decided that was gross and I should cross the street. I told myself that was pretty messed up, but rationalized it that I wanted to go buy some eggs and milk at the shop across the street down the way. A few minutes later I was standing at the kiosk when that guy came up behind me and said, “Uncle, nisaidia. Nataka kula ndizi!” (Help me, I want to eat a banana).

I kinda ignored him at first but he was very patient and didn’t really bug me anymore. Everyone else just pretended he wasn’t there. I decided I’d buy him a banana, so I asked the guy at the booth, “Ndizi ni pesa ngapi?” (how much are bananas?). 10 shillings… “Sawa, mpe huyu mlevi moja” (Ok, give that drunk guy one). As I was walking away some dude asked the crazy guy, “Hakuna asante?” (you didn’t say thanks), and the crazy guy yelled a big, formal “thank you” in my direction. I was nervous because I thought was going to run after me and try to thank me in person. haaha.

The word for a drunk person, by the way, is mlevi, which that guy probably wasn’t; the right word probably would have been wazimu (crazy)!!!