Hujambo!

It’s something I’ve been battling with since I came to Kenya in 2007. This evening I was walking through Uthiru after work and some kids saw me and shouted, “Mzungu!” You’d think I’d be used it by now but alas, even after two years of living in Tala and hearing kids shout that and more at me every day as I walked the two kilometers to the market, it still bothers me. Plenty of well-meaning Kenyans have tried to explain to me that it just means “white person,” but I’m yet to be persuaded; a “mzungu” is a person who comes from the magical country of “zungu.” Huh?

You see, the rules of Swahili say that you prefix the name of a country with an “m” to denote a person who is a native of that country. For example, an “mkenya” is a person from Kenya. An “mtanzania” is a person from Tanzania. I don’t know what a person from America is, because I’ve only heard it like once. I think it’s something like “mamericano,” but that sounds like something you’d order at Starbucks and it’s irrelevant anyways. It’s irrelevant because even if they were yelling “American,” that doesn’t make any sense either. In what universe is it acceptable to yell someone’s country at them as a greeting? Besides, you don’t hear Kenyans yelling “Ugandan!” when a Ugandan dude walks by… they say, “Niaje?!” (what’s up?).

In Kenya, as long as you’re not black or Indian, you’re a mzungu… unless you are Filipino or Japanese (or anything else Asian which is NOT Chinese), in which case you are Jackie Chan and you know karate. Pole sana, guys (so sorry)!

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.
Read more

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)!!!

You’d think knowing Kenya is in the midst of the long rains I’d carry my umbrella everywhere; alas, another day walking home in the rain without an umbrella. I did have a minor epiphany about umbrellas while sitting in the matatu on the way home, though. I had just run a kilometer through Uthiru to the bus stop in a thick drizzle, trying to get to a matatu before the rain picked up. By now it was raining properly, and some poor suckers who had reached their stops had no choice but to get out and face the elements. We even saw one jamaa (guy) slip and slide down a muddy slope, dropping all the fruits he was carrying. Pole sana (so sorry…).

Strangely there was no rain in Westi (Westlands, in sheng), which I assumed to be my good fortune. I alighted the matatu at ABC place (a few kilometers from my stop) to do some grocery shopping and then walk home, one of my weekly routines. By the time I was done it was raining again, go figure. My groceries and I set off on foot, in the rain. I just kept thinking how funny it must be to see a white guy walking in the dark, in the rain, without an umbrella.

Several people asked me, “Hauna mwavuli?” (you don’t have an umbrella?), and some others even laughed. Plenty of cars drove by and sprayed me, to which I said, “Wewe!” (you!) but thought, “Asshole!” It’s my fault, and I sealed my own fate when I looked out the window that morning at 7 am and, seeing a clear, blue sky, left without my umbrella.

Here’s a novel idea: it’s May, and there’s a high chance of it raining (regardless of the color of the sky in the morning), why don’t I carry my umbrella with me everywhere?

When I was preparing to come to Kenya in 2007 I bought a pocket guide to learn Swahili. I wasn’t too serious about practicing, but I do remember sitting on the beach a few times reading that book (I even made flash cards). I’ve gotten pretty good at Swahili over the last few years so I guess it wasn’t a complete waste of time, but there are a lot of phrases you learn when you’re first exposed to Swahili that aren’t really used much by Kenyans themselves.

For instance, there’s a dude at ILRI who always greets me in the morning by saying “Jambo.” Jambo is a polite way to say hi to someone in the sanifu/pure Swahili, but you’ll NEVER hear a Kenyan say it to another Kenyan. My friends always tell me I’m not Kenyan so I should get used to it, but it still gets to me. I always respond, “Poa” (cool), but I guess I haven’t convinced him I actually am cool yet. It’s just that jambo makes me feel like a tourist, an issue I’ve struggled with since I got here…

Another thing you’ll never hear, unless someone is talking about the Lion King, is hakuna matata (no problems); It’s much more common to hear “hakuna shida,” but it’s all the same I suppose…