Hujambo!

It’s a terrible feeling to get caught in a lie. Today I told a small fib, then was glad I hadn’t flat out lied when the lady ended up sort of calling my bluff.

I was in San Marcos with a few hours to kill in between meeting some friends, and decided to go walk around Fry’s Electronics. As I was playing with one of the fancy new computers a lady came and introduced herself to me. It was obvious from her introduction that she wanted something. I began to mentally prepare my “let her down easily” strategy, and then she fell right into my trap when she asked, “Are you from around here?” I told her that I live in Kenya, I’m a volunteer, and I’m just home visiting family briefly.
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I cracked up this morning when I heard on the news that San Diego Zoo’s “Wild Animal Park” is going to change its name to the San Diego Zoo “Safari Park.” It’s hilarious to me because in Swahili a “safari” is a journey; sure, driving around looking at animals is technically a journey, but really any old road trip qualifies (even if there are no lions). Hopefully they left all the annoying guys handing out safari pamphlets back in Nairobi!

I don’t know when the word “safari” entered the American lexicon, but the Beach Boys definitely went on a Surfin’ Safari in 1962. Americans are apparently good at integrating words from other languages into English, though. Off the top of my head, we have kindergarten from the Germans and smörgåsbord from the Swedes, and hakuna matata! You did know that’s Swahili too, right?

On a semi-related note, I just went on a surfin’ safari in Pacific Beach. The water was freezing and the waves were small and blown out, but I managed to get twenty minutes of good body surfing in before my body was numb and I was tired of floating around out there. I had to take a walk down the boardwalk to warm up afterwards. Brrr!

My mom’s husband was telling me the other day how, sometimes, he feels like he’s surrounded by idiots. I felt the same way today when, as I was merging onto the freeway, some guy cut in front of me. After he swerved over from the “going straight” lane, he slowed down to yield to an obviously empty on ramp which joined ours. I found myself yelling, “WHY ARE YOU BRAKING?!” out of nowhere. I haven’t driven in two and a half years, but hellooo? So I’m visiting California for a few weeks… welcome to CA!

Last week, when I was still in Kenya, my mom asked what I would want in the fridge when I got home, something I missed; the only thing I could think of was strawberries. Not that we can’t get strawberries in Kenya, I guess they’re just expensive or something, so I never eat them. Anyways, I’ve been eating strawberries and blueberries every morning in my Kashi Heart to Heart cereal with almond milk and I’m officially addicted to breakfast again.

Don’t get me wrong, I love mandazi and chapati, but this tastes good and is actually good FOR you! The almond milk isn’t a must, and could be substituted with soy milk or even the kawaida moo juice. Try it out, you won’t be disappointed!

I was in Tanzania for a few days over the Easter holiday. I always figure, living in Kenya, it’s the closest I can get to being in San Diego and hopping over the border to Mexico to eat a few tacos. It’s only a 5 hour bus ride to the decently-sized town of Arusha, and once you’re there the going is cheap and easy. My favorite part is the street food at night; people set up grills and sell all sorts of great finger foods for just a few shillings. Even better, I’ve never felt unsafe in Arusha.

After a great weekend wandering around Arusha and Moshi (the town just below Mt. Kilimanjaro), I came back to the Kenyan border and waited in line to be interrogated by the customs agents. I have a valid Tanzanian visa, and a valid Kenyan work permit, but for some reason the lady decided to be difficult. When she asked me “Where are you going?” I told her “Westlands,” which was apparently the wrong answer, because she asked me “Where is Westlands?” After a few more rounds of me hearing her incorrectly and giving more “wrong” answers, I finally told her, “Nairobi” and she let me go.

I don’t know if she was trying to catch me in a lie… or maybe she decided that, because Westlands is a suburb of Nairobi, the correct answer should be “Nairobi?” What if I wasn’t going to Nairobi? Would Nairobi still be the correct answer? We will never know…

There was a big huzzah in Kenya a few weeks ago when pictures circulated of two Kenyan men in the UK getting married. I got the e-mail from a colleague at work and had assumed it had made its way around ILRI, but then I saw it being actively discussed in several editions of print and online media. It’s safe to assume the e-mail made its way to every single office-working Kenyan in Nairobi now that I think about it. I don’t own a TV but it was probably even on the evening news.

The subject of the e-mail was “Dunia inaisha” (the world is ending), which is pretty hilarious. That’s like the Obama haters who said jihad will come to America if he is elected president. Now imagine my surprise when I was walking through Gikomba (the hawkers’ market) and seeing this camoflauge-color hat with the words “Gay Marriage” written in pink text. Hahah! I had just bought a pair of used Converse, a t-shirt, and a pair of shorts, when I came across this awesome hat. I snapped a picture of it real quick before the shop keeper saw me, but then I just had to ask him, “wtf? Will anyone buy this in Kenya?” Maybe he’s a supporter of gay marriage (in which case I should have bought the hat), or more likely, he just picked it out of a bin wherever it is that he gets his wares.

A “gay marriage” army hat makes about as much sense to me as American flags being made in China. By the way, extra points for anyone who noticed the old school San Diego Padres hat in the same picture…