Part II... Mzungu in Kenya

OK, so this should have been before my last post, but oh well. Slight chronological impairment.

So, the punch buggy factor is in full force here in Kuria, Kenya. (See my very first post for the meaning of this reference.)

But the funny thing is, i think they have seen so few of us that it's really just "punch buggy" (no description to follow)! Everywhere I went today - the market, the streets, the shops -- I heard whispers or cries of "Mzungu!" Announcing to anyone in earshot that they had 'seen one'. But it's usually cute and funny (we'll see if I feel this way in 2 weeks) -- but I don't find it to be annoying. Especially when it's the little kids who see you. And they SMILE huge and wave and sometimes run up to you and grab your hand, and they are just so happy when you greet them. It is truly heartwarming. Crystal, my partner who has been all over Africa, has this wonderful way of reaching out to all the people we meet... and I can see why she wants to. It seems to make people so happy. I heard almost (well not quite) as many "Karibu"s as "Mzungu"s. "Karibu" translates to "you are welcome here". Most people that I have met in my 2 days here have certainly made me feel that way. It helps that Nuru has such a positive perception from many of the people in this district. But it also helps that the people are (mostly) warm and inviting and non-judgmental at the core.

The Bus Ride: Nairobi to Isibania

We arrived at the Nairobi bus depot at about 5:55am for a 6am bus to Isibania (the city near the Kuria district, where Nuru is working). The depot is this crazy mess of buses, cars, people, and bags - with no apparent signage or directions. Our translator left to get us tickets (*note: unclear if they were ever actually purchased or given to the bus driver*) and then we took off at as fast a sprint as our large bags and packs would allow - through a tight maze of buses. We found one that - to me - looked exactly like all others in the mess, and were told to push our way on board. Steph and Gaby threw their bags up and climbed the precarious steps into the bus (you wouldn't think of getting into a bus as an ascension ... but really, this one was. Then it was my turn. I got one foot and one bag into the bus as the driver - apparently running on a tight schedule - decided that it was time to go though, and the bus started moving. Crystal was still outside. Our "helpers" started yelling and pounding on the bus. We finally got in, only to find a totally packed bus that basically couldn't fit more than half of us.... therefore, we found ourselves and our bags stacked precariously in the aisle ways as the bus bounced its way down the Nairobi streets.

I eventually squeezed in besides a Tanzanian woman who was in the animal feed business. Namely, she sold Tanzanian animal feed in Nairobi. Upon finding out that I was American, she wanted ot know what products she could go buy in NYC that she could resell in Kenya. Having been to HBS, this little intuition told me that, well, her Kenyan/Tanzanian purchasing power wouldn't exactly go too far on the streets of Manhattan. I hope I talked her out of that idea. She still wants to come visit me in New York though. She was a rather large woman, which basically meant that I had about half the seat, and ours was conveniently the seat closest to the exit. Good side: fresh air (mixed with road dust, but still. Not bus air). Bad side: every time someone needed to exit, they would basically toss their suitcase onto my feet, grab my shoulder or hair or jacket for balance, and stumble off the bus (sometimes while it was still moving).

Crystal and Julius sat amidst many small children. Crystal held, like, three babies or something. Julius held one ... who proceeded to yack all over him. Sign of true character -- he kept holding the baby the whole trip.

It was a rough 6 hours... on 2 hours of sleep... welcome to Kenya, muzungus!

Do They Hear You When You Cry

I am currently reading this wonderful, extremely well-written book called "Do they hear you when you cry", by Fauziya Kassindja. A true story centered around some really scary stuff that West African Muslim females endure. BUT, scary stuff aside, I came upon this cute and funny passage at the beginning of the book that I just HAD to post because it is SO in keeping with my blog's theme. Here goes:

"When I was a child, we almost never saw white people in Kpalime, and it was really uncommon to see them walking. My friends and I would run behind any white person we did see, calling out to everybody along the way, 'Come look, come look'. Sometimes we tried to touch him, because we thought if we touched a white person we would turn white too. Or we'd pretend to speak English: 'Arisha arisha kotombray' and other such nonsense words that to us sounded just like English." --Fauziya Kassindja

Hotel Gorillas

Before I forget, I absolutely have to write about the Hotel Gorillas / Gorillas Hotel (not sure which is right), located on the hillside in lovely Kigali. Now despite my initial misgivings about staying at a place with such a name, Gorillas turned out to be just fine... though CERTAINLY not without humor. Interestingly enough, in the past week, the Gorillas redid their website and it's now quite a Java/HTML masterpiece (Gorillas are good at coding and web design, you know). But before I left, the site was pretty basic and advertised two amenities: (1) 24-hour hot water, and (2) satellite TV. Upon my arrival, I found one very important thing missing. (Wanna guess?) Yup, hot water. I arrived at the Gorillas on a Saturday night, and I think the first time the Gorillas managed to pump me some hot water was Tuesday or Wednesday. How about the SAT TV, you ask? Well, if you consider two channels to be "Satellite TV" - those two channels being none other than SkyTV's Sports network and the HALLMARK CHANNEL - then yes. (Hallmark? for real? of all the channels in the world... anyways.)

So I spent a lovely week with the Gorillas, staying in this exact room:


I got this pic from the website, but I think every room looks exactly like this so it basically could have been my room. The window faced the main road, and across the street was a large farm. (Down the street a block was the Kigali institute of Forensics. interesting.) Anyways, and on the farm, there was a ROOSTER! (ee-yi-ee-yi ... oh never mind.) He liked to crow specifically from 6am to 7am. That's one set o'lungs to go that strong for a full hour, I tell ya. What the picture is missing, though, is the really large, loud fan that I parked right next to the pillow at all times. As hard as a tried to open every window to get some air in the room, the Gorillas were determined to keep my room shut in and totally stuffy. (Gorillas like to sleep outside, so I'm not sure why they don't understand the concept of air flow.)

One thing about the Gorillas, though, is that they CAN cook. (Food in Kigali overall leaves something to be desired, but somehow this slightly funny, slightly-off hotel had one of the best restaurants in the city.) But they have a lot of trouble handling money when you want to pay for anything. For some reason, nobody ever has any CHANGE. About five times, I saw someone take off running down the road (to the Forensics lab??) in search of bills to make change. Once I had the HOTEL DRIVER spot me a few francs from his tip money because nobody else had any change (it was super nice, but REALLY). Here is a pic of the entrance to the restaurant (quite pretty):


All in all, the Gorillas provided a safe and clean place for a week in Kigali... especially if you like roosters, unpredictable water temps, and Hallmark. TIA!