Food, Kenya, Rants

I had a funny experience in the market today: after work I went to buy some avocados and fresh corn for dinner. I found a group of mamas sitting near some vegetables so I greeted them and told them what I wanted. Just then it started raining so they invited me under their small shelter to sit on a bucket. I pointed to the maize, still in the husk, and said I wanted it but that I didn’t want to pick them off the cob. I struggled to explain this in Swahili, but I was getting close with the addition of some sounds and hand motions. I said I wanted mbili (“two”) corn and two avocados.

I again motioned that I didn’t want to pick the corn off the cob, and could she? When she understood she started laughing, then I started laughing. This attracted a small crowd of baby-carrying mamas, to whom the corn lady spoke some Kamba (the local language) and whose babies I greeted in said vernacular, and then broke the cobs in half and distributed them to the crowd for picking. As we were laughing and they were picking, I noticed there was quite a number of people eye balling our little corn-picking party. The team finished quickly and professionally (I tried it once a few months ago and I gave up, and roasted the corn instead). I gave them a bit of extra money for helping me pick the corn, and then we made some small talk and I said, “Thank you,” and, “see you later!”

These mamas are the backbone of Kenya. Kabisa (“completely”).

Kenya, Rants, Teaching, Travel

I know I’ve been out of communication for over a week, but it’s with good reason. I’ve been traveling all over Kenya for various goodbye parties, circumcision ceremonies, and Christmas celebrations. Here’s the breakdown:

  • Saturday, December 20th: Maasai village called Enkokidongoi for a goodbye party for a few friends.
  • Sunday, December 21st: Back to Tala to wash some clothes.
  • Monday, December 22nd: Back to Nairobi to in order to leave early the next morning to Western Kenya for the Kulechos’ rural home.
  • Tuesday, December 23rd: Mabanga, near the Ugandan border with cousins of the Kulechos because nobody was free to take me to the Kulechos’ farm.
  • Thursday, December 25th: Finally to Chepsaita, where the Kulechos’ rural home is. Bunches of family and villagers were gathering for the slaughtering of a bull for Tash’s brother’s circumcision ceremony.
  • Sunday, December 28th: Back to Nairobi in order to leave for Ethiopia on Monday.

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Kenya, Rants

Lately a lot of people have been asking me for money, and it’s getting really annoying. Sometimes it’s, “give me twenty shillings” and other times it’s, “buy for me tea” or, “give me your bike.” I have so many experiences with this, nearly ten in the last two days, that I hardly even know where to start!

Today was a long day at work because my class wasn’t until after lunch, and then I talked for nearly two hours, waving my hands, writing on the board, breathing chalk dust, etc. After work I walked to the market to drink a cup of tea and eat a chapati. It’s only one and a half kilometers, but the hot African sun scorches my nose and neck and there’s a gauntlet of children yelling at me along the side of the road almost the whole way. Sometimes they yell, “Alan!” and other times it’s, “Mzungu!” or, “Wewe!” (Swahili for “you”). Even after you wave they keep yelling, and it’s really annoying when you’re walking with someone trying to have a conversation. The other day a rock/clod of dirt hit me in the face and I swear it was one of those kids (but I can’t prove it).

After arriving safely to the market I headed to the cafe I’ve been having tea at lately. It just so happens that the cafe is next door to the barber shop where I normally get a shave and hang out to kill time, so I went to greet people. The owner mentioned that they wanted me to buy them tea, to which I laughed, but he persisted. He said that he knew I was about to go drink tea and eat chapati. After that, how could I then go have tea next door without feeling guilty? So I proceeded to another of my usual cafes where I saw a certain mzee (respectful title for an old man) who was eager to greet me. He’s always really nice and I see him almost every day, but he doesn’t speak much English and my Swahili is better-suited for speaking with small children. I sat down at his table and made some small talk, inquiring whether he had already had tea; bado, “not yet.” I asked if he wanted chapati and he said something about it costing a lot of money, so I told him I’d buy for him.

As we were eating, a drunk (or crazy) guy started greeting me and asking for tea and chapati. I tried to tune him out but I still heard him telling me “God will punish you” and other crazy things like, “I am Kenyan.” He even came over to me to insult/beg to my face and I had visions of him throwing my tea at me. I tried to tell him to leave me alone and to go away (in Swahili), but this only made him more excited. Luckily a waiter saw him and shoed him away.

This stuff is entirely typical, though. Yesterday I was walking to a little restaurant to buy some fried fish and ugali and an annoying woman ran over and started following me. This woman is always nagging me. Every time I walk by she jumps up to come talk to me, dismissing whoever I’m talking to, pretending we have some pending business to attend to, “Alan, I want to talk to you about something.” She ended up following me several blocks to the restaurant, “Alan, I know you’re going to eat fish. Buy for me.” I’ve ceased to be courteous with this lady, so I just responded, “Linda, I will not buy you fish. I want to eat alone. Please leave me. You can walk that way now.” Another day she asked me to “just give me 100 shillings.” When I declined she made a big scene asking me over and over “why?”

Also typical: someone asks me to buy them food or tea and I see they’re chewing miraa (qat, a narcotic plant) in their pocket. I’ll joke with those guys and tell them that I can see they’re already eating some sukuma wiki. It’s probably rude, but how can I buy ten shillings of some leafy green vegetables when they’re spending 100 shillings on drugs? I’m not the morality police, but don’t ask me for ten shillings when you’ve blown 100 on drugs.

Just another day in Kenya I guess.