Final Thoughts on Watamu

I have enjoyed my stay here in Watamu, even if it has not been a vacation, never went to the beach, and have pretty much been by myself the entire time. There was a point in my life where I would have dreaded this time spent here…as little as a month ago. I think I am slowly adapting to Kenyan lifestyle, not getting so worked up when things are not “perfect”. Spending five days here without TV, Phone, Music, etc…and being by myself the entire time has actually been rewarding in some respects. Now, I do have my laptop and internet, so I have not been completely shut out of the world. Wish I had better speeds than dial-up and spotty coverage though.

Watamu is an interesting place. Other than the previously mentioned items, there are some cool differences that are not obvious at first. Sure, there is a slower pace of life and an even more “lackadaisical” approach to life. Nobody is in a hurry to do anything here. To a fault. It seems that people spend more time socializing and meandering up and down the road than actually accomplishing anything. It is completely different than the hustle and bustle of the Nairobi area.

The people here are different too. They are smaller in stature. It is not just me noticing it either. The driver who drove me down here is originally from the Western Province of Kenya. These folks are typically either farmers or fishermen, living within a close proximity to Lake Victoria. He had never been to the coast before and has lived in Kenya his entire life. He and I both noticed that the folks here are a lot smaller than the status-quo in Nairobi. The average height for a male I am guessing to be about 5’2” and very thin. This is in direct contrast, to say, a Masai that would average 6’+.

Kenya is very tribal. A local Kenyan can just about tell what tribe someone is from by looking at them. For sure they can tell by their given name. In Nairobi, there is a melting-pot of tribes all mixed together. Here in the coast, it is not so mixed other than the odd Mzungu walking the town. I have no idea what kind of tribe someone is from unless they tell me…and then it does not mean all that much to me. I have read about them but the best I can say is that Kikuyu is the biggest next to the Luo…the president of Kenya is Kikuyu and the prime minister (who caused all the issues in Kenya after their last election) is Luo. I have mentioned Harambee before (Kenyans First). It was initially brought to term by Jomo Kenyatta, the first president of an independent Kenya and generally regarded as a great leader. He wanted to break down the barriers of tribe and unite everyone together for a solid Kenya. Unfortunately, he was not completely successful. Much like if in the States everyone was either Texan or Kansan, or Michigander and not American. Only here, they get all riled up and take machetes to each other. Not all the time, but it is known to occur.

Everything is much more expensive here in Watamu, especially for a white dude. It is readily apparent that anything that requires shipping, is expensive. Other than seafood, locally grown fruit and local building materials, that makes everything expensive. The average pay is a lot lower here than in Nairobi too, which leads to a lot of poverty. The housekeeper here is a good example. He makes a really good wage for this area, about KES 5000 per month…or the equivalent of $64.51 USD. He has a roof over his head provided with the job. That buys food, cell service (everyone in Kenya has a cell phone, no matter how poor) and basic necessities. I almost feel embarrassed when I unload my clothing for four days and realize that I have brought twice as much as this guy owns. It is a different world and a bit humbling all the same.

The housekeeper is another good story. When I got here, I brought the American mentality with me in regards to managing work. Also, it came with the standard “…trust until proven otherwise.” I asked how this works, he informed me and we moved forward. There were a lot of things that needed to be bought in the first day or so and spent probably about $100. Cooking gas, cleaning supplies, food staples, water, and the like. The next day, I was asked if he could have the driver give him a ride to his parents house 7 kilometers away as his Grandfather had just passed away. Sure! My goodness, go and take care of it. He left and came back somewhat late that evening. The next day was the burial, so he asked if he could go to that. Sure, that makes sense. He and the driver left and didn’t get back until 10:00pm that night. The next day, they took off in the car to go to a party. Ok, I need to get over this but I am left at this house with no food or drink (can’t drink the water). I get a call from my friend that owns the place and he absolutely explodes…super-livid. I guess this is the third or fourth time his grandfather has passed away and they know that they are not supposed to use the vehicle for anything…period. The cooking gas I had purchased (and the housekeeper was using) was only for guests that rent the house…not him. He has a separate stove he uses…guess he likes the high-life of living in and utilizing the big house when nobody of importance is around. Basically, this guy took me for who I was…a Mzungu that didn’t know the program and he took me to the cleaners. Everything I bought for him was not supposed to be provided for him…and he ate all of my food and drank all of my water. We had a quick “come to Jesus” meeting immediately after the phone call. Things are in order now.

My friend told me that I cannot treat them as equals or even not micro-manage them as they will always take advantage, almost like he was telling me to treat them like dogs. I was stunned. I was also upset that someone took advantage of me. Well, after the phone call and the “..come to Jesus” meeting, I started treating them like I was told and everything worked out ok…almost better and the workers seemed to be happier? Crazy stuff, I tell you.
I do not think I could get used to treating people that way, but that is the way Mzungu treat all the help. It is sad because if you do not treat them that way, they tend to take advantage of you, more and more. I have heard stories of folks who get nickel and dimed to death by the help after giving a small assistance. Even my housekeeper in Nairobi did it to me on Matatu fare, albeit it is not just a Watamu thing…

Upon retrospect, I have enjoyed my stay, have learned a lot, and am getting better at assimilation to Kenya. I have eaten some fantastic seafood, played with my dog, gotten work done on the house, and am ready to be back home in Nairobi, to civilization. Also, the first time ever, in print, that I consider “home” to be Nairobi…I must be doing ok.

Peace,

Dude.
FBO

Watamu

I have spent the past three days in Watamu, Kenya. It is a small coastal town that is fueled by large Tourist Resorts. Ernest Hemingway made this place popular some time ago, as his namesake “Hemmingways Resort” accurately depicts. It is said that he came here for the fishing but local lore has it, he mostly drank himself silly on gin.

The fishing here is tremendous. The continental shelf is very close to the coast and provides a channel that feeds off of Madagascar Island to the south. Black Marlin, Blue Marlin, Eldorado, Yellowfin are the catch of the day. This super-highway of fish brings them by at different times of the year. April through December, as I understand it, is the best fishing times but good fishing throughout the year. A lot of the locals make their living off of fishing (all the others make their living off of Mzungu). At low tide, one sees all the boats sitting 100+ yards off the shoreline sitting solidly on sand. When the tide comes it, it comes in. Anyhoo, there is a huge abundance of fresh seafood here and it is ridiculously inexpensive compared to the States. I had a meal here that started with Lobster Salad, then Sushimi, main course of Grilled Jumbo Prawns, and then dessert for about $28. The same meal in the States would have been closer to $55-$70 and not near as good.

The pace of life here is much slower than in Nairobi. Very laid-back and nobody is in a hurry. What Nairobi is to the States, Watamu is to Nairobi. The locals all wear shorts and t-shirts, and the mean temperature here, at this time, is between 75-85 degrees…and it is winter here. It is also “off-season” as the Mzungu do not really start arriving until mid-July. The waters on the coast are colder and the tide is higher and rougher until then. My last trip, there were tons of Mzungu mucking about, this time I am but of a handful it seems.

This trip, I came down here by myself (as was well documented in my last post). Because I am not with the “gang” this time, I have had a lot of time to myself as well as spent a lot of time with a couple of locals. It is very interesting getting their perspective on things…and their thoughts on Mzungu. Instead of going to the “supermarket”, I have gone to “Kiosks” to purchase things. Kiosks are where the locals shop and also things are much cheaper too. Of course, if I were to go there by myself, I would get ripped off. For example, I went to a pharmacy in Malindi (a larger town North of Watamu). I had run out of anti-malarial and thought it a good idea to re-stock as I am in one of the Malaria capitals of Africa. I had priced Malarone in Nairobi and it was KES 5100 for a 30-day supply. About equal to $70 USD; steep but inexpensive considering what Malaria can do to you. The nice lady at the pharmacy quoted me KES 5400 for 12 pills. I said, very politely, that they were ripping me off and told them how much it was in Nairobi. “…for you sir, I give you discount…KES 5100.” I chuckled quietly and thanked them for their time and walked away. Back in the car, the locals thought it quite humorous. ALL mzungu pay more here that is the way it is. Needless to say, I have been dousing myself with DEET every day, have Mozzie Chips (Mozzie is Mosquito here) burning two at a time under my mosquito net, and treated the nets with Premethryin. Do not have any Mozzie bites yet and hope to keep it that way.

One of the main reasons I came to Watamu was to coordinate getting the roof fixed on this place. The roofs here are made up of “Makundi”. Makundi, are shingles that are made up of some sort of palm leaf cut into strips, then wrapped around a stick. This forms a shingle, which bundled together makes a thatch roof. Each Makundi costs KES 5 (about 6 cents apiece) and I bought 3000 of them. They have started work and it is a slow and grueling process. First there is the tear-off, then replacing them one at a time. They are fastened to poles from tree-limbs spaced similarly to rafters in a conventional ceiling. However, instead of nailing or screwing, they are tied with other strips of the plant that is more durable yet. It is a very interesting process to watch. I also noticed that using a homemade ladder, they are doing all the work barefooted. I can’t stand on a ladder for very long without work boots and can’t imagine standing on one barefooted. These guys can do it all day. Regardless, it is very different and interesting compared to roofing in the States.

I am quite amazed at the resourcefulness of workers here. They utilize the things that are around them instead of relying on manufactured goods. The house was built out of stones and coral, the roof built of Makundi…all which probably originated less than a mile from here. They only brought a knife and machete with them along with a very rickety homemade ladder. And they are getting the job done. They also seem to be happy while they are working; they sing and whistle the entire time.

Other than the work on the house, things have been VERY slow. I have had a lot of “personal” time…not a lot to do here. The beach is not good this time of year and it is not a place where one can really go walking around…no place to go to. I have enjoyed it, none the less.
Last night, I had Madafu, nectar of the Gods. Madafu is young coconut which is considered still green. One whacks the tops off of them with a big knife then drinks the water that is inside. It is not like coconut milk, it is very clear. The taste is hard to describe other than it is really, really good. One can also eat the tender meat inside after drinking. It, again, does not taste like coconut. It is hard to explain, but it is very good right out of the fridge. I had two last night before going to bed.

Speaking of bed…with no distractions other than the Sun (i.e.: TV, Radio, Books, Etc…) I have been going to bed around 8:30pm or 9:00pm and getting up with the sun at about 6:00am. It is very nice and refreshing. Almost like detoxifying the body. It is a bit hot to sleep, but getting used to it by the third night.

Well, enough for now. I hope all of you are doing well and are happy in your own spot of the world.

T.C
FBO

The Long Drive to Watamu...

Ok, I am sitting at my cottage, minding my own business when my good friend here asks me if I would like to go to Watamu for the weekend. Are you kidding me? Of course I want to go! Watamu is a resort town on the Indian Ocean just about at the Equator. Beautiful beaches, great restaurants, sun, sand, palm trees, the works…what is not to like? Now, things start to unravel… My friend suggests that while I am down there, I could arrange to manage the work on his beach house. Fine! And, that I could probably drive myself down there….this is where things could have gone horribly wrong.

I question the merits of me driving, cross country, with but a few trips to Nakumatt under my belt. He assures me it is a piece of cake. Now, in the past, there are a few things this friend will leave out of an equation, figuring that everything will fall into place…you know the type, the “Big Idea” guy? Anyhoo, I get off the phone with him and start boning up on the drive. Google Maps, check! Lonely Planet guide trip…check… Talk to a couple of locals I know…starting to get queasy but can make this thing work.

So, I go over to my friend’s house and ride-with as he goes to the airport. Now, the big reason I am going is that due to unfortunate circumstances, the guy that would normally go and get the house “open” is in India for a few weeks taking care of his brother (remember the TB thing?) It is very important to me that the house be ready for my wife’s arrival. Her best friend has helped us out tremendously over the past few weeks and had also stepped up to the plate and bought her own airline tickets to accompany my wife to Kenya with our 9 month old daughter (actually, will be 10 months when the travel!) I think we owe Diana a first-class trip with not just experiencing Nairobi, but the coast and either the Mara or Tsavo or Amboselli…some type of kick-butt Safari. Well, showing the coast would not work if the coast house was not ready…so I agree but with stipulations. I do not want to drive, I have to be able to take my dog, and I do not want to spend a bunch of money on this trip. All stipulations were met eagerly…ok, this might have been to easy?

Because of the timing, I had to hurriedly prepare. We finalized the plans at around 3:00pm and I left the following morning from my home at 5:45am. He agreed to hire a driver (actually one that already works for him) and I had to meet him and take him to the vehicle at 6:00AM sharp. I hurriedly got all my crap together, slowly realizing I am not prepared for a trip to the coast. Most importantly, I do not have enough Malarone on me (Malarial Medicine) and will have to try and find some down here…for probably 10x what it would cost in Nairobi. Got my bags packed by 9:00pm, to bed by midnight (couldn’t get sleepy) and up out of bed at 5:00am.
Getting up in the morning was not hard…I have been to this place before and I knew how cool it was and I was excited. Even if it was a working vacation from Nairobi, I would take it in a heartbeat. Meeting the driver in the morning went exactly as planned and picked up the car easily and were on our way by 6:15am. Already checked out the route, got to Mombasa road and turn Right, drive straight to Mombasa on freeway to C104 and turn Left, then straight to Watamu. Easy, right? Five, maybe six hours and I am there…and monkeys might fly out of my arse too!

Traffic in Nairobi SUCKS! We made it about half-way to Mombasa road and cars were stacked-up on top of each other. Took some side-streets the driver knew of (thank God, or I would still be there) and were on Mombasa Road by 6:45am. I had been told that Mombasa Road had been re-built by the Chinese and it was a smooth-sailing road all the way to Mombasa. Well, I have been told a lot of things by a lot of people and this just might top them all.
There are a few “sections” that are quite nice. It is very smooth like a good 2-lane highway in the States. However, the other 80% is either questionable or downright horrific! There are a few “diversions” which in the states would be called “detours”. These random “diversions” would take a gravel and mud swath across a ditch and continue on either gravel, dust, mud “tracks” that require a 4wd (we were traveling in a front-drive Mitsubishi sedan) or remnants of the old road that were in such horrible shape it would have been better to try the shoulder if it were not filled with Matatus and people walking. Bone-jarring bumps, kidney-pounding ruts, bladder-sloshing potholes all in a symphony that beats one silly. Combine this with huge trucks, Matatus, and 4wd’s all jockeying for that singular position that was ahead of our car, I am glad I was not driving for probably the first time in my life. My driver took it all in stride and the entire time acted like it was normal…and it was for him. I ALWAYS drive. Not this time and to think I was going to go it alone?

Once past all the crap (this is three hours into the five to six hour drive) there was some semblance of a highway again. However, because this is the only workable route between the largest port in East Africa and it connects it to the largest Metropolitan area in the country, imagine taking all the tractor-trailer trucks in the U.S. and put them on ONE ROAD! Also combine this with a steep grade (I went from 5600ft to 0 ft on this trip) and everyone wanting to pass without rules or regard for personal safety…I cannot give you how many times I was (either left of right lane, didn’t matter) going from 140 Km/Hour to 5 km/hour within fractions of a second, whipping back and forth across the middle in time to feel the breeze from the oncoming vehicle…I eventually just closed my eyes until we got to the outskirts of Mombasa.

Mombasa is another thing all together. It is the second-largest city in Kenya (next to Nairobi) and a huge distribution hub for the Eastern part of the continent. Traffic was just as bad as in Nairobi, but subtract any real “development”. Most of what I saw was very run-down, very old, and not kept up at all. Swarms of people walking, not just on the side but down the middle and crossing too, one would die doing this in Nairobi. The simple “Left” turn would have been a complete and total disaster for me. It was not marked and involved about four traffic circles with non-square options and no compass in the vehicle. Even my professional driver got a bit lost but fortunately was able to ask (in Kiswahili) for directions and we were on our way. If it were me driving, I would have eventually just turned around and drove the six hours back to Nairobi and given up. Seriously. Yes, we are now Eight hours into our five to six hour trip and still hours away.

The drive up the Kenyan coast was nice (subtracting that my butt was aching from sitting so long). A side-note, a long drive in the States is easy to break up what with all the “Loves Truck Stops”, well marked rest areas, and descriptions of what are on each intersection of the freeway… NOTHING IS HERE! We peed on the side of the road, did not pass a single place to purchase soda, let alone a sandwich the entire way. Combine that with the “comfortable” road conditions and I nearly had to change my underwear…multiple times considering the combative driving environment. It was a bit of a nice change up the coast though. A bit more laid-back, better road conditions, and much better scenery.

The scenery from Nairobi to Mombasa is really cool at first. Tons of mountains surrounded by exactly what you might see on National Geographic or Animal Planet. Absolutely beautiful when not having ones butt clenched so tightly that one cannot feel the fingers digging into the armrest s. Then there is the desert. Very similar to the California Desert around the 29 Palms area. TONS of people live there though, and not in air conditioning or modern conveniences. I asked the driver how/what these people lived on? His reply….”its hard.” After opening my eyes I could start to see clouds, which meant we were arriving to the coast, including more and more palm trees, coconut trees, and the like.

Everything else was pretty much uneventful except for getting turned around in Watamu. That was only 20 minutes or so of our 11 hour adventure. I am looking forward to getting the house back into “live-in” shape and doing some basic relaxing if possible. Again, this is a beautiful area and a very beautiful home. Thatched-roof covering about 4000 sq/ft with pool, I will get some pictures posted on this one.

It would almost be enjoyable except for the fact that I know, deep down in my heart, I have a car ride back to look forward too.

So this guy is trying to buy a car...

I sit here typing this bog on my laptop and have to consider how incredibly blessed I am to have it. The lady that we have hired to clean the house has never used a computer before. Not just that, she does not have television, a stereo system, a car…very few possessions.

I was going through withdrawal, almost, without having television. Most folks here do not necessarily have television, let alone satellite television service. I was thinking about this while surfing the channels and grumbling about how there is not much worth watching. Although I miss the programming in the States, there are a number of shows here that do keep me entertained. I can watch House, The West Wing, The Late Show with David Letterman, plus Discovery, National Geographic, ESPN, CNN, Animal Planet, and the likes. There are even horrible shows here like Oprah, Desperate Housewives, Day of our Lives, and other crap that makes me wonder about the world in general.

I also have a few movie channels that show a fair number of new and older movies. One thing of note, the system here “bleeps” out swear words and cuts out sex scenes. I do not miss it, but it says a lot about the culture here. The overwhelming majority of folks here are Christian and do not just practice it on Sundays. That makes it more palatable to me as there is not much hypocrisy. Seven days a week with Church service on Sundays. Anyhow, I digress…

With most folks not having their own vehicles here, they rely on a haphazard mass-transit system made up of buses and matatus. The buses here are very similar to what one would find in the states. Very large and belching out black smoke like the tires are on fire. Matatus are minivans that are supposed to seat 14 people. They are privately owned (unlike the City Buses) and there are several that cover the same route. Each Matatu has a driver and hawk. The hawk desperately tries to fill seats. It is funny to see someone walk up to where the Matatu’s hang out and be pulled in three different directions by three different hawks. They compete with each other on the same routes by having either louder music, or possibly LCD Televisions playing something in them or even some are cheaper than others. Although they are designed to seat 14, God only knows how many are crammed in, some with the side door open and people hanging out side, riding on the running boards and clinging for dear life. The Matatus are Kenyans version of Russian roulette it seems. They have no rules at all, so it is nothing for them to pull out into oncoming traffic, swerve without notice to avoid a pothole, stop without brake lights in the middle of the street...all without a care for others on the road. I had read somewhere that the very last place one wants to be in Kenya is riding shotgun in a Matatu, calling it “The Death Seat”…I believe it. Needless to say, I will probably not be riding any Matatus any time soon.

I am still trying to buy a car, but awaiting the sale of my truck in the States so that I can afford one. First, there are no “payment plans” here. You buy a car with cash or you ride a Matatu. Cars her are kind of expensive here…if you want a good one. I am looking at KES 600,000 ($7,000.00 USD) to get a decent car. Obviously, the one I want is much more. The ideal vehicle here is a four-wheel drive truck that seats four or a Landcruiser/Landrover type vehicle due to the roads and type of traffic. Unfortunately, those go, starting out, for about KES 1,300,000 ( $16,500 USD) up to about KES 2,400,000 for a newer one ($31,900 USD).
Interesting, a “New” vechicle is VERY, VERY expensive. The prices I quoted are for “New” used vehicles, meaning they are imported from Japan as certified used vehicles of sorts. They are used but in good condition and have never been driven on Kenyan roads. Then there are true “Used” vehicles that have been rattling around in Kenya for God knows how long. A vehicle gets a license plate upon entry into the country and one can guess the approximate age of a vehicle based on the number on the plate. On average, the “New” used vehicles average a 2002 model year. The plus is, that vehicles hold their value very well here so long as they are maintained. I really wish I could have brought my Chevrolet Avalanche here; it would have fit in quite nicely albeit with the steering wheel on the wrong side of the truck. Regardless, it appears we shall be purchasing some type of Toyota station wagon/minivan concoction…nothing I have seen on the roads in the States, for sure. There is no way the wife and child can ride in Matatus or be reliant on others for rides, so I am in need of figuring this one out quickly, for sure.

I went to the “Car Bazarre” at a local park here. Quite the experience; imagine a parking lot/barren field packed as tightly as possible with cars and trucks. There are probably more auto dealers here in Kenya than there are in the States, as EVERYONE is a car dealer. Everybody tries to import cars from Japan to sell and make a quick KES 50,000-100,000. Walking around through it was hard as I still do not recognize all the vehicles and much like in the States, I want what I cannot afford. I am really smitten by the Subaru Forrester, a larger vehicle with All-Wheel Drive, great acceleration, and room to hold all my valuables safely…Wife, Daughter, Dog, and possibly a few groceries too. Talked to a guy there about one (come to find out they are KES 1,200,000). Once you talk to a guy, he will follow you around almost not allowing you to look at other vehicles very easily. They are very similar to the pushy used-car guy at any U.S. auto dealer albeit a lot more polite and sincere.

If I do not have a car her by the time my wife and child arrive, things are going to be tough, at best. However, in retrospect, watching the folks that line up for Matatu’s, those that do not even have the fare to ride Matatu’s and walk along the street somewhat brings things back into perspective. A car is a privilege that is taken for granted in the U.S. Also by this Mzungu living here too.

Exposure to a New Culture

The stay here in Kenya has been very enriching and rewarding so far. Being exposed to the different culture as well as eating new foods, figuring out grocery stores, driving…everything is an adventure. Exposure can sometimes be a bad thing.

My good friend that lives here was gracious enough to allow me to stay with him for a week or so until I secured my own place to live. He lives as a traditional Kenyan family does; something lost in the United States. He and his Wife have three children and also his Mother and Brother, and Brother In-Law live with him. When his Father passed away two years ago, he brought his Mother and Brother over to live with him from India. He provides food, shelter, clothing…basically everything that they need. From the outside, looking in, it is a great and noble thing. From the inside, it is something that is done because, simply, that is the way it is supposed to be done. Not like the United States where the first thought and action is to find a Nursing Home to ship off their loved ones to.

It was especially challenging as his Brother is somewhat mentally challenged. He has the mindset of a 9 year old, but is 36 years old. That brings its own set of adversity, all taken in stride by the family and accepted. Each in the family helps in the ways that they can, including bathing him, making sure his special needs are met.

Unfortunately, his brother fell ill a few months ago. By the time I arrived, his brother was looking very poor, emaciated and despite eating more than any two people in the family. My friend carried a book, which were actually his brother’s medical records, with him most all the time. He had taken his brother to the major hospitals here, various doctors, had tons of tests done…all of which state that his brother was in fine medical health. Any fool could look at him and know that was not the truth. The majority of the doctors that looked at him all felt that it was a mental issue that was causing his concerns.

As I arrived in Kenya, my friend was actively looking for Hospitals and Assisted Living facilities in India to place his brother in. It is a widely held opinion (fact) that India has a much better medical infrastructure than Kenya…almost rivaling that in the United States. Two weeks after I arrived, he was scheduled to make the trip to get the assistance he required. Unfortunately, he had an “episode” where he was extremely weak and unresponsive four days prior to traveling. Because my friend was out of the country, his Brother In-Law and I took him to the local hospital…having to just about carry him in and out of the car. The Hospital ran their tests, gave him IV fluids and nourishment…basically just got him healthy enough to travel and came up with nothing.

There is finally a diagnosis within three days of him arriving in India. He has Tuberculosis. Crap. When I knew of his ill health prior to him going to India, I had called my wife. She is a physician (Internist) and the first words out of her mouth were, “…does he have TB? Has he been tested?” According to the medical records he had had the tests.

Regardless, now I have to wait a month or so and get tested to see if I have contracted TB. I have had a barrage of injections to protect me against all the nasty bugs here, or at least all the ones that are available in the United States. Folks are no longer inoculated against TB in the States as there is close to zero issues with it. It is treatable with antibiotics…taken over a 6-9 month time frame.

For those not in the know, Tuberculosis is spread much like the common cold. Germs coughed/sneezed/spit into the air are inhaled. Not everyone that gets the germs become “active” TB folks, they can be “inactive” and not have any symptoms, just carry it around for years until it finds its opportunity. Inactive folks do not spread the disease.

Some interesting points:
• Someone in the world is infected by TB every one second
• Overall, 1 in 3 people are infected with TB
• Only 5-10% of people infected with TB become sick, or active
• Most all new cases are in Southeast Asia and Russia
• The highest per-capita TB is Sub-Saharan Africa which accounted for 34% of all cases globally

There are many drug-resistant strains because of the strict regiment required to kill the bug. Poverty and stupidity (just like the States) leads people to not finish their courses of antibiotics, which leads to “superbugs” that no longer respond to treatment. Even more sad, there is a vaccine for it which prevents TB, but not readily available to the population. That is just sad. Everyone thinks about HIV or Malaria when thinking about Africa, yet the number one killer and disease is preventable. No sad, very sad.

Being exposed to a different culture is very rewarding, but also in retrospect, a bit scary too. Even paradise has its drawbacks.

Mzungu (White Guy)

One of the first things that stick out is that, as a whole, there are not a lot of Mzungu in Kenya.

Mzungu get treated differently than other Kenyans in my opinion. Depending on where you are, it varies. Where I live, in Karen, it is not that big a deal. There are tons of Expats (expatriates from other countries) everywhere and they are a common site. When I went to the downtown Nairobi area with my friend Sunni to get his Visa…I felt like a fish in a fish tank. I think I was the only Mzungu within miles and it shows.

We went to a grocery store there to get a bit of lunch while we were waiting for the Indian Consulate to open. Standing at the bakery counter, I was passed over numerous times to place my order…always being pushed aside or ignored. After a few minutes of this, my Kenyan friend stepped up, laughing, and placed the order immediately. Two things; one I was Mzungu and two I was too polite. Standing in line is not the same as standing in line in the States. Not a single Kenyan respects another’s “personal space”. In the States, there is that 18-inch rule…”please do not crowd me and respect my personal space. Touching, pushing, intruding in ones space is taboo and rude. Here, it is a game to see how many folks can be crammed in per square-foot. In Karen, it is a bit different. Folks still do not necessarily respect ones personal space, but Mzungu are treated the same as the Kenyans. Also, one does not politely wait his turn. Instead, you push forward barking your order with the “you’re not going to ignore me” attitude. This is not always the right tact and I am learning when to use it and when not to.

Another aspect where Mzungu are treated differently, the Kenyans automatically assume you have lots of money. All things being said, most Mzungu do have a bit more cash than the average Kenyan. Whenever you are in traffic, the locals will approach ones vehicle trying to sell everything from DVD’s to roasted peanuts to maps to goodness knows what. Even after saying, politely no, they will persist even while the windows are up and one avoids eye contact. The amazing thing though, in the states there is some drunk begging for money on the street corner (or con artist), here they are trying to actually earn a living by selling goods.

Kenyans are a hard worker that is for sure. Take, for example, the folks that are putting up the fence around my cottage. Sixty feet of fence in the States would cost probably between $3000 and $10,000, depending on what type of fence one was putting in. Typically a group of Mexicans would show up, throw it up in a day, and possibly even paint it the same day. I remember they put up probably 200 feet of wrought-iron fencing at our house in a day and painted it the next. The fence they are putting up at my cottage right now is a beauty built by true artisans. Raw materials were brought in, bent into ornamental shapes and welded on-site. Pieces are all cut by hand (no power tools whatsoever), bent by hand, and shaped by hand. I think I saw a hacksaw, a hammer, and a very old/cheap welder that did not always work every time. They have been working on it for coming on two weeks now, applying the primer coat as I type this. A group of about four Kenyans have been working on it, sometimes two, sometimes four. They take pride in the work that they are doing and are pleasant and congenial…and are charging about KES 20,000 or about $260 USD.

The thing that drives me nuts is that there is technology that can make this move so much faster, enabling them to build more, faster, for more money. However, the culture makes this moot. By keeping long-term, gainful employment and preventing putting others out of business is a goal, I guess. The driveway to my cottage is about ¼ mile long. The ditches are “mowed” with a machete. In the States, there would be a wicked gas-powered weed whacker knocking it down in an hour or so. Here, it takes days. The idea of starting up a company with gas-powered equipment, doing the work for less money, faster, and a better job is not an idea that would be welcomed. I think it is “Harambee”, which if I translate right is “Kenyans First”. That company would violate Harambee by un-employing hundreds of Kenyans. Something that is not good. Some things seem strange to Mzungu…and I am sure they think Mzungu are strange too.

Take my dog, for example. I have a great German Shepherd Dog that is very well trained. Most Kenyans would never dream of having a dog any other way than chaining it up during the day and then letting it roam the yard of an evening. Kenyans generally have a phobia of dogs too. I cannot let my dog outside while they are working on the fence or you will see Kenyans scatter…even if they are on the other side of the fence. They also laugh at me when they see me talking to my dog…and eyes get wide and laughter abates a bit when they see my dog respond to commands. The good thing is that word is out the Mzungu has a dog that thinks Kenyans taste like chicken! Folks stop in the street and parking lots when they see me take our dog for a ride in the car. The “Askaris” (Security Guards) at the shopping centers stopped me after parking….from a distance…and asked me to roll the windows all the way up in the car. I had left her in the car as it is MUCH better than a car alarm. The guard was visibly worried that our dog might get out of the car. I assured him that she would not and appeased by rolling up the windows a tad. I then advised him that as long as he didn’t reach into the car, there was no way he would get bitten. He nervously laughed and took a few steps further back. Coming and going, there were lots of onlookers of the car I was driving albeit from a wide-berth.

Crazy Mzungus…

Three Weeks in Kenya

I sit here looking out the window at palm trees, the peaks of the Ngong Hills, flowers and birds of all kinds everywhere and am growing used to it and at the same time amazed at the differences.

The flora here is freaking incredible. Amazing flowering trees, shrubbery of all colors, trees that are nowhere in the States…what a lot of Africans take for granted stuns me. On the drive to our cottage through the streets of Karen, almost every home has a garden that would be considered “museum quality” anywhere back home. Plus, with the growing climate all year round, it provides for some interesting observations. I remember back home, working at the depot, selling tons of annuals that were to be planted temporarily for color. Take Marigolds, for example. They grow nice and pretty, and then die in the fall, and replanted again next year. Here, they are bushes that form hedges and grow/bloom all year round. I am sure it makes gardening a bit of a challenge over here as one really needs to plan ahead because once it is planted, it is there for good.

The birds here are pretty cool too. The crows that fly here have large, white breasts but all other aspects they are normal crows. I have hawks that fly round here all the time, looking for a small dinner of sorts and have been told can put chicken pieces out and they will feed in the front yard…will have to try that when I get some chicken and my camera ready. Numerous songbirds of all different colors and sizes…all are a sight to see for the first time.

In the short distance from our cottage are the Ngong Hills, made famous by Karen Blixen’s “Out of Africa” (and the movie too). The views of them are incredible as they are unlike any “hills” or “mountains” I am used to seeing. Because this area was formed by volcanic activity and the vast Rift Valley which lies Kilometers from where I sit, the landscape is unequaled anywhere else in the world. The beauty is stunning to me, but not that big a deal to the locals obviously.

Karen, where I live, is a predominately wealthy area, especially by Kenyan standards but by American standards also. It is inhabited by wealthy Kenyans and White “Expats”, it is a very rural suburban area with nice homes on huge lots, usually with a large staff to maintain the gardens, household chores, repairs, and anything else. It is an area where it is safe to walk the streets…although where I am at it is impractical as there is nothing within walking distance from me. The people are nice and always have time to stop and chat a bit. Most everyone here speaks English, albeit they seem to prefer to speak Kiswahili and mix it with English a bit.

There are a couple of shopping centers that are a 5 minute drive from here where one can buy about anything that is a necessity for living. Closer by are roadside shacks that sell the very basics, milk, bread, eggs, fruit, and vegetables. A lot of the locals utilize these shacks but I have not had the opportunity yet. Most everything that I have bought so far is from a store called “Nakumatt”, which is the Kenyan equivalent to Wal-Mart. Nakumatt sells groceries, household goods, electronics, furniture, motorcycles, hardware, tools, appliances, carpet…you name it and they have a bit of it. Some things are very inexpensive here (food), some things are normal prices here (cleaning supplies, soda, meat) and some things are very high (clothing, hangars, electronics, and fuel). One thing worth mentioning, deli lunchmeat is freaking expensive here. Priced per 100 grams (which is not very much), 300 grams will cost you KES1000 which is equivalent to $12.00USD…gotta learn the equivalants!

I have also grown fond of the coffee shops that are nearby. Dormands is one that is close by as well as one called Java House. They serve EXCELLENT coffee, something that Starbucks should look into. Kenyan coffee is regarded as some of the best in the world (we drank it in the States) and they brew mean Tea too. Most of the coffee shops have an outdoor area where folks sit under umbrella tables and enjoy the 75 degree mean temperature, nice breeze, and blazing sunshine. Most of them have internet available, which really makes for a good retreat for me. I have 3G, but it is expensive to use. I never realized how many bytes I used surfing until I paid for each one!!! A luxury I was privileged with in the States and cannot take for granted now.

Talking about the Oasis that I live in is not necessarily a true representation of Nairobi though. Karen lies on the far Southwest edge of the Nairobi area. Once you get out on one of the main roads (Either Langata Road or Ngong Road), things change quickly All of sudden there is mass-chaos. Matatus (small buses) roaring everywhere, pulling in and out of traffic regardless of who is coming or going. Masses of cars driving on roads that have no rules, potholes 10 feet in diameter and a foot deep, passing at anytime, and a communication system utilizing horns, turn-signals, and light flashes that I still do not fully understand. In the States, the car horn is an extension on ones middle finger…only used in anger or frustration. Here, it is used as a communication device. For example, multiple short blasts could mean that I am coming from behind or that I want to merge in right now. Laying on the horn means “…you stupid Matatu, I am coming and get the hell out of my way!” At night, the turn-signal is used to let people see the side of your car as the roads are extremely narrow, dark, and without any lines painted on them.

Anyhow, I digress. Outside of Karen is the true “Nairobi”. A lot of poverty being passed by quickly by the tons of rich folks in their Range Rovers, Toyota Landcruisers, Mercedes, and the like drove by wealthy Kenyans and Expats. The city is very congested and traveling about needs to be planned out carefully. Never during rush-hour and never at night are the two most important rules. For about two hours in the morning and three in the evening, it is like a very chaotic L.A. Freeway experience. Cars sit bumper to bumper, some without brakes, some driven without care, but all sitting like paperweights emitting smog out the tailpipe that would really piss off the tree-huggers in the States. The black-smoke that pours out of vehicles due to zero emissions policies makes a choking/gagging affair that burns ones throat and eyes. Night time driving is not a problem with congestion, but with safety. Carjacking is a serious issue to deal with. They are very common-place and one needs to keep safety in mind at all times. Car doors are locked (even in the daytime), if the windows are down one needs to be careful about leaving an arm out for fear of losing a watch or possibly even the arm. There are thieves roaming the streets in pairs trying to steal stuff out of your vehicle or even hubcaps while stuck in traffic is not uncommon. One lesson is to keep notice of folks walking the streets in a jacket, hat and tennis shoes. They have to be considered thieves as they can discard the coat and hat easily to change appearances and the typical Kenyan does not really wear tennis shoes other than to run. Learning the ropes about safety is paramount prior to me starting to drive never mind the silly bastards drive on the wrong side of the road.

Home safety is a major issue too. My cottage is very safe as it has a road-block with three guards at the entrance off of Bogani Road. From there, the long (quarter-mile or so) driveway has locked gates lining it. I have to pass through two locked gates to get to my front door and there is a guard on duty at these two gates. I have an ace up my sleeve in my German Shepherd Dog, Naomi. Africans are scared shitless of dogs…especially German Shepherds and other similar “trained attack” dogs. All of the staff in our compound gives our yard a wide-berth. Also, carrying Naomi with me in the car…I am told by locals that is almost a guarantee of safety. I am also virtually assured that no Kenyans would even consider entering my yard let alone my cottage…so that made the cost of transporting our animals worth every penny.

Other areas of the city are not near as safe as where I live. Folks that live in town are under constant strain of having a home invasion or having their vehicle stolen, regardless if they are currently driving it or it is sitting in their driveway. There are a lot of beautiful areas of Nairobi that would be less expensive to live in anmd have nicer, larger accommodations. However because of this safety issue, I will not consider living in those areas, just as I would not consider living in Oak Cliff, parts of Fort Worth, or any other crappy area in the States.

Getting used to the slower pace of life has not been difficult at all. If someone tells you they will be there at 2:00pm, you just allow for an hour or so. It is as simple as that. If an appointment does not work out or something goes wrong…no big deal. The hurried hassle of everything in the States is slowly melting away, which is one of the many bonuses of living here. I am actively retraining myself to relax. Sitting here in my cottage on a beautiful Sunday morning, I can sit on my front porch and gaze at natures wonders, play with my dog, type this blog and not be worried about what it is I am supposed to be doing. What happens will happen. I was supposed to have television service installed yesterday by the local Satellite TV Company. There were some “issues” that arose from free installation and timing of a very good promotion. Just three weeks ago I would have been pissed off about something like this. Now, it can happen later. No big deal. I have been waiting to purchase a TV and an inexpensive audio system so that I can have music to listen to. A few snags have been hit and it will have to wait until next week. No worries. I would have had a fit about not having TV in the States. I think I am becoming happy with my blood pressure now…

One thing I think I do miss is Fox News (aside from my Wife and Daughter, of course!) I was a news junkie and now do not really know so much of what is going on in the world…I do peak at the online Fox News each day though. Funny, I do not miss it as much as I thought I would. I also do not get worked up about the politics, taxes, and socialist state of the USA anymore. What happens will happen and I will watch from the sidelines.

Well, I will stop this diatribe. I hope that this finds each and every one of you happy and well. I miss you all and wish the best to all.

Peace,

Dude.

FBO