To Kenya!

I am writing this fro the National Museum of Nairobi.  That's right, Nairobi.  We had to do something about the problem that, for those of us who are America, our Ugandan visas are running out.  So we left the girls with their teacher's family, and Mark got us tickets for Nairobi.  So I spent most of Christmas Day packing and making calls, and we took off on the morning of the 26th.  Because this is Uganda, nothing can go smoothly, and in this case Uganda Air lost or didn't notice our tickets until right before we were supposed to leave.  I tried to contact them all day on the 25th to no avail, and I had figured that they weren't working on Christmas (although you would think that the airport would have someone in it!).  Then, of all things, I got an email at MIDNIGHT apologizing for the inconvienance, and that they would have the ticket resolved by our flight in the morning.  When we went to check in at 10 they still didn't have our reservation, but with a little bit of searching they found it.  Whew!

So Emerson and I flew to Kenya, and here we are!  When I was a child traveling with my father in the summers, I kept a running tally and I had visited the same number of countries as I was years old, for quite a while.  Then I got behind in my late teens, but a year in Europe in college solved that.  This trip has gone on for a while but hasn't added many new countries, so I'm sure I'm behind now, but Emerson has turned 5 and entered his 5th country!

As we drove out of the airport, my little third-culture boy was silent for a while, watching the scenery pass by.  Finally he commented, with amazement, "this reminds me of driving to Portland!"    Now, what little American boy would drive past an acacia-filled savanna, then Massai with their huge herds of Brahman cattle in the median, then Asian-looking modern manufacturing building and bulk stores, and comment on how much it looked like Oregon?!  But I knew what he meant: it was because we were driving on this thing that was flat, and paved, and went on straight in both directions, with no cows or pushcarts in the middle of it, allowing the cars to use their accelerators without engaging the steering wheel in dramatic maneuvers.  We haven't seen a highway in a long time.

We got to our hotel, which is fairly nice in a middle-of-the-road kind of way.  I was looking forward to taking advantage of what was left of the afternoon to walk around and see a little bit of Nairobi from the street, but the girl at the desk told us flatly that it was not safe to walk out because it was a holiday and there were not many people on the street.  She conceeded that we could walk right in front of the hotel, on this street, very near here.  So we went out walking, and it seemed to be a little bit of a market area, with small shops open and vendors selling clothes and shoes on tarps and on tables under umbrellas on the sidewalk.  All of which is familiar to us, but the vendors are much more agressive here than what we are used to in Uganda, and they kept bothering us to come in and buy.  We took a longer walk than what the hotel lady probably advised, but I kept within the loose market-ish area, and made sure that there were plenty of people (including well-dressed ones) around us, even though there were still some pedestrians beyond the shops.  I was thinking, that if this is "no one is out," then Nairobi must be a very crowded city indeed!

This morning the holiday is over, but the desk clerk still did not approve of us going out.  I asked for directions on how to walk to the city center, which I knew we were near, thinking that we could walk around and see what it was like when we were there.  She said where would we like to go, and she could call a taxi.  I said we wanted to walk around, and which direction to start out.  She laughed and said I could not walk with the baby, we could take a taxi.  I said the baby could walk just fine, and took out the map in my guidebook to show her some landmarks that we could aim for.  She called another bellboy over to give me directions to a cinema, and I said I didn't want to go to a cinema, and he offered to call a taxi so I could get to the cinema.  I didn't want to go to the cinema.  By then he was looking at my map, and pointed out a cinema on it, which I STILL didn't want to go to.  (Maybe they teach map-reading in Kenyan schools; most Ugandans don't even know what they are.)  I said I wanted to walk, and he said I couldn't walk with the baby, and we should take a taxi.  I asked which direction was downtown, and they told me not to walk, they would call a taxi.  I said that we were just plain going to go out of the building and start walking if they didn't tell me which direction to go in, and finally yet another bellhop came over and took me to a window, and pointed which direction to go.  It took all of ten minutes to walk downtown, even at five-year-old pace!



When I go on a trip I usually bring teabags, but this time when I was packing I glanced at them and remembered that on all the previous trips so far, there has been no way to get hot water or mugs, so they don't do me any good.  So I didn't bring them.  And there is an electric kettle an accessories right in our hotel room!  We had a similarly effective conversation with that bellhop, who was pointing out the amenities, including the kettle.
"...and you can have your coffee," he concluded, indicating instant coffee packets.
"Do you have tea?" I asked.
"Yes, it is right there," he answered, pointing to the coffee.
"But are there also tea bags?" I asked.
"You want coffee?  Very nice, it is coffee right here," he replied.
"No, I don't want coffee, I want tea."
"Yes, we have very nice coffee, any time you want, it is right here."
"But I don't want coffee!"
"Yes, is okay, you like coffee, is here."
"No, I don't like coffee, I like tea."
"Whenever you want, here it is, you can drink."
"Tea bags!!!  Do you have tea bags!!!  I do NOT WANT COFFEE, I am asking if you have tea!"
"Oh, for tea you call the restaurant, number 256, they bring you right away nice tea."  (For a price, of course.)
I think this is an excellent example of the African representation of Yes Is Better Than No.  It doesn't matter so much if you answer the actual question, it is important that you are very agreeable.  I think the Asian variant is to just say "yes" whether or not you have any intention of following up; the one around here seems to keep answering a slightly different question.  Some solution to the not-saying-no problem seems to be in existence in many places around the world, but however you find it, it tends to be highly unpopular with Americans.



I am used to looking like I stand out, but being able to act like I fit in, but now in Kenya I look out of place and I actually am.  I don't mind needing to ask questions to get around, or taking pictures of tourist-y things, but I don't need to be treated like an idiot.  Or a baby.  Or like I just got off the plane from the civilized West.

For instance, I know how to bargain and not pay twice as much for a taxi ride.  Although the expression of deep and abiding grief (upon arriving at a fair price) was a charming touch.

I would prefer not being told about how to walk down the street.  I know to keep my hand on my purse, and how to avoid getting run over by random vehicles not following traffic rules.

I really have very little interest in charming outdoor markets with the tomatoes piled in cute towers.  You can tell me where the nice, shiny Western-style establishments are.

I don't need to "take my little boy to see animals, very good price."

We know what chapatis are.  Oh, do we ever know what chapatis are!!

And the absolute clincher: today we were walking around the museum and I was taking some pictures of Emerson, as most people were doing with their children.  At one point he was looking at an exhibit with a couple of little Kenyan children.  As I came closer, their father said something about a picture, which I didn't quite catch, but I apologized for taking a picture of his children, and explained that I had just meant to photo my son.  But that wasn't what he meant.  He lined the kids up and offered them to my camera again, so I could take a picture of Emerson together with his children.

What, so I can have a photo of my little boy along with some black children?  For local flavor?  Um, thanks; I think we have that one covered!!!