Today after lunch, Kay and I headed downtown to go to Masai market. It's a twice a week open air market about 2 city blocks large, selling mostly souvenir type things. So many white people!
Okay first of all, I swear 90% of the white people here are blond. I claim to know why, but it's just the strange truth. There are some couples, but mostly they seem to travel in small groups of girls. There's basically a uniform that all the females, myself included, wear. Hair in a messy ponytail bun and a hair band. Loose, light weight long shorts (shpants, if you will), and either a tank top or a t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Then Birkenstocks, Chacos, or other gait-considerate sandals. When chilly, a fleece zip up from North Face or MEC. It really is a uniform.
At the market you're supposed to haggle the prices. Everyone knows you never pay more than half their original price, right? Wrong. I rather enjoyed watching some tourists get totally destroyed. The guy would say 800 shillings, and they'd be like, "um, do you think 750 would be alright?" They always looked super uncomfortable. They're also a bunch of stereotypical liberals, and when I make fun of them, I'm totally making fun of myself but it was just so funny. I overheard one person talking to a man who was just trying to sell her something, telling him all about how she volunteered for the Obama campaign, another talking about how much she missed organic fruit, and THREE people asked the vendor if the person who made the souvenir got paid a fair wage. A lot of unctuous self righteousness, but whatever. I think a lot of "well travelled" people tend to be self righteous, probably because they think that since they've been somewhere, they understand it. Anyway, the stereotype is so funny when it's true.
When it comes to haggling, I hate not getting a good deal. If I had money to burn, I'm still not sure I'd be able to resist the allure of saving just 50 cents more. It was great to have Kay with me...they vendors would talk in Swahili, and Kay would translate for me, so I would know they were being fair. They didn't realise she wasn't a tourist, I guess. I'm also really good at acting disinterested, and just walking away. They always run after you, giving you the price you want. My best deals were a leather pencil case, from 800 to 200 shillings, and a necklace from 400 to 75. I'm that good. Okay, and Kay helped. She told me that some of the vendors were being kind of mean to her, asking why she would help a white person save money instead of helping a Kenyan make money.
But I got lots of good stuff, and many of you have exciting times to which to look forward! Then Kay and I got ice cream and took a matatu home. Hamburgers yesterday, ice cream today? Maybe Nairobi isn't so bad after all!
Showing posts with label nairobi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label nairobi. Show all posts
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Friday, July 17, 2009
Lost in Nairobi
Yesterday I took a matatu from school to Kikima. It's a trip I've made a million times with other people, but yesterday was my maiden solo voyage. I met with Henry in town, and it was all okay.
I took the day off teaching today, and travelled to Nairobi. Very early this morning I took a matatu from Kikima to Machakos, and it was smooth sailing. I got the front seat, and when there is a white person in the front, the police seem to decide not to pull up over and ask for a bribe. The plan was to meet Elijah in Machakos, because it's really hard to figure out transfers. Nothing is marked, and all the matatu conductors sprint over, sometimes grabbing at your sleeve, trying to get you to choose their matatu despite the fact that it's not headed to your repeatedly stated destination. In Kikima though, Henry knew somebody on the bus who was also going to Nairobi, and she said she'd help me, so I told Elijah not to worry about it. We're going to call this woman, W1.
As we approach the city centre, I'm just about to congratulate myself for traveling alone in a foreign country, when W1 asks the conductor a question. He answers shiftily, and W1 says, "they cheated us!" The mat was stuck in traffic, so we jump off. W1 quickly explains that they aren't headed to the specific station at which I need to meet Kay, even though they said they were when we got on. She grabs the arm of a random woman passing by, explains the situation, and asks her to walk me to my station. Then the traffic starts to move, so she jumps back on the matatu while calling out, "she doesn't speak Swahili!"
The new woman, W2, looks at me for a moment and then beckons for me to follow. This is sort of when I realized maybe I wasn't in the best of situations. I decide to enact my most effective emergency contingency plan, called Trust Only Women. You may call this plan sexist, but I call it provident and safe. I know I'm generalising, but I find that women can be counted on to help other women, you know? W2 told me she was heading in that direction, but not all the way. At a junction, she tried to pass me off to a man that was headed there, but I didn't leave her. Later W2 passed me off to W3, who spoke even less English. Around this time, I started to get the feeling that we were no longer in the better part of town. And later still, we were it a part of town that made the bad part of town look celestial. Oh man.
W3 and I finally arrived at the station where I was apparently supposed to meet Kay. But then W3 had to catch her own bus. Kay had told me that often in Nairobi, people steal cell phones from right out of your hand while you talk, which is why I hadn't used it so far. But I got Kay on the phone and gave it to W3 to explain our location. Turns out I'm at the totally wrong spot, but Kay knew where I was and would come find me. W3 leaves, but W4-7 are sitting on some pavement. They over heard the Swahili exchange, I guess, so they kindly invited me to sit on the pavement while I waited. They actually even got out a piece of cardboard so my princess of a bum didn't gave to sit on the pavement. Nice, but kind of funny, gesture.
Eventually I realise that if so many people are starting at me, nobody is going to steal my phone. So I call Kay often, and I feel safe. Eventually she finds me, and all is well!
I'm proud that I didn't even freak out a little bit. I gave myself a few "don't worry yet, Lisey" talks, and really, I didn't feel that the situation ever reached levels of exigency. Kay says the drivers often lie about their destination, just to get another fare. So mean, right? But whenever she tells somebody where she eventually found me, their eyes pop. Kay says she has only been to that side of town once before. Since I'm okay, it's a hilarious story now. While I was still complacent and on the matatu, we drove past one of those air conditioned big, clean tour buses. There was an African driver, then about 12 people who looked about my age in the back. They had some luggage piled up, too. I felt a slight twinge of jealously at all the comraderie, but then I was like, "uh, I'm taking a matatu, and at best those guys get to look out a window. This is the real deal." However, by the end of the escapade, I was back to being jealous. But now that I'm found and safe, I'm back to being snooty.
Spurred my newfound Evil Kinevil life out look, I kept living on the edge all day. Kay and I ate lunch out, and I got a hamburger. And I didn't take off the pickles and lettuce. And later I ate an apple with out peeling it. RAW FRUITS AND VEGETABLES, PEOPLE. (I know, I know, it's really common for otherwise healthy travellers to get sick at the end of their trips once they ease up on being so careful about what they eat. And Eric, I'll check my inbox for a reprimanding email from you. But that burger was GOOD and I am still fine.) Bring it on, Kenya.
I took the day off teaching today, and travelled to Nairobi. Very early this morning I took a matatu from Kikima to Machakos, and it was smooth sailing. I got the front seat, and when there is a white person in the front, the police seem to decide not to pull up over and ask for a bribe. The plan was to meet Elijah in Machakos, because it's really hard to figure out transfers. Nothing is marked, and all the matatu conductors sprint over, sometimes grabbing at your sleeve, trying to get you to choose their matatu despite the fact that it's not headed to your repeatedly stated destination. In Kikima though, Henry knew somebody on the bus who was also going to Nairobi, and she said she'd help me, so I told Elijah not to worry about it. We're going to call this woman, W1.
As we approach the city centre, I'm just about to congratulate myself for traveling alone in a foreign country, when W1 asks the conductor a question. He answers shiftily, and W1 says, "they cheated us!" The mat was stuck in traffic, so we jump off. W1 quickly explains that they aren't headed to the specific station at which I need to meet Kay, even though they said they were when we got on. She grabs the arm of a random woman passing by, explains the situation, and asks her to walk me to my station. Then the traffic starts to move, so she jumps back on the matatu while calling out, "she doesn't speak Swahili!"
The new woman, W2, looks at me for a moment and then beckons for me to follow. This is sort of when I realized maybe I wasn't in the best of situations. I decide to enact my most effective emergency contingency plan, called Trust Only Women. You may call this plan sexist, but I call it provident and safe. I know I'm generalising, but I find that women can be counted on to help other women, you know? W2 told me she was heading in that direction, but not all the way. At a junction, she tried to pass me off to a man that was headed there, but I didn't leave her. Later W2 passed me off to W3, who spoke even less English. Around this time, I started to get the feeling that we were no longer in the better part of town. And later still, we were it a part of town that made the bad part of town look celestial. Oh man.
W3 and I finally arrived at the station where I was apparently supposed to meet Kay. But then W3 had to catch her own bus. Kay had told me that often in Nairobi, people steal cell phones from right out of your hand while you talk, which is why I hadn't used it so far. But I got Kay on the phone and gave it to W3 to explain our location. Turns out I'm at the totally wrong spot, but Kay knew where I was and would come find me. W3 leaves, but W4-7 are sitting on some pavement. They over heard the Swahili exchange, I guess, so they kindly invited me to sit on the pavement while I waited. They actually even got out a piece of cardboard so my princess of a bum didn't gave to sit on the pavement. Nice, but kind of funny, gesture.
Eventually I realise that if so many people are starting at me, nobody is going to steal my phone. So I call Kay often, and I feel safe. Eventually she finds me, and all is well!
I'm proud that I didn't even freak out a little bit. I gave myself a few "don't worry yet, Lisey" talks, and really, I didn't feel that the situation ever reached levels of exigency. Kay says the drivers often lie about their destination, just to get another fare. So mean, right? But whenever she tells somebody where she eventually found me, their eyes pop. Kay says she has only been to that side of town once before. Since I'm okay, it's a hilarious story now. While I was still complacent and on the matatu, we drove past one of those air conditioned big, clean tour buses. There was an African driver, then about 12 people who looked about my age in the back. They had some luggage piled up, too. I felt a slight twinge of jealously at all the comraderie, but then I was like, "uh, I'm taking a matatu, and at best those guys get to look out a window. This is the real deal." However, by the end of the escapade, I was back to being jealous. But now that I'm found and safe, I'm back to being snooty.
Spurred my newfound Evil Kinevil life out look, I kept living on the edge all day. Kay and I ate lunch out, and I got a hamburger. And I didn't take off the pickles and lettuce. And later I ate an apple with out peeling it. RAW FRUITS AND VEGETABLES, PEOPLE. (I know, I know, it's really common for otherwise healthy travellers to get sick at the end of their trips once they ease up on being so careful about what they eat. And Eric, I'll check my inbox for a reprimanding email from you. But that burger was GOOD and I am still fine.) Bring it on, Kenya.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Being Touristy
Today Eric's flight left, so yesterday we drove back into Nairobi. Eric is working on something where he'll write about the experience of taking a matatu, so I rode with him from Kikima to Machakos to provide more observations from non-local eyes in case he missed anything. I've taken lots of mats by now, but I've never sat in the back. Oh man, it gets dusty back there. Dus-T.
Then we all woke up early early this morning and drove out to the Rift Valley. Man, that is a pretty cool view. It's just so cool to think about how long ago people were there. Like in Canada, at most a walking path can be what, 500 years old? But Lucy walked in Kenya. It's pretty mind blowing.
Then we drove back into the city for a meeting with people who make solar cookers- more on that later, but first stopped at some fancy pants mall to get money at a bank and a bite to eat. Tip for foreigners on getting withdrawing money: Barclay's seems to be the only place that takes my debit card. For brunch we went to a place called Wimpy's and it was so good even though the orange juice was yellow. Ahem ahem, it's called orange juice.
Them we headed to a giraffe centre. You can feed them right out of your hand and even out of your mouth! You just put a little pellet between your lips and she'll come in for a kiss. The giraffe's name was Laura. She was so pretty (just like my sister Laura, am I right?) with those giant black eyes and long eyelashes. They really are beautiful animals. It's sort of like a horse but with a long neck and better colours. Anyway so it's hard to take a quick enough picture if you just let the giraffe have the food pellet, so you kind of have to hold it tightly. This will ensure that it takes a few seconds for Laura to get it, and that a picture can be taken. Let me tell you something. Giraffes have a very rough and goobery tongue. But we got a pretty cool picture and it's fun to be that close to them. There was even a tiny baby off in the distance. GIRAFFES! Oh, then we got ice cream and it was like, ICE CREAM! Because I love that stuff and I haven't had it in two months. It took me a second, but then I was like, giraffes! AND! Ice cream! Eating ice cream while just a few meters away from a giraffe is the best.
Then we headed to the animal orphanage. Have you ever been centimeters from a cheetah? Sucker, I have. It's was a pretty great little zoo, with all sorts of monkeys, lions eating huge pieces of meat, wart hogs, no less than four cages of cheetahs, and even buffalo. There was this one adorable adorable adorable baby monkey, oh, and an alligator!
Before dropping Eric off at the airport, we had a goodbye dinner of sorts at their aunt's house. Over the part few days there have been lots of goodbye-Eric things. In wrapping things up for him, I've really realized how ready I am to wrap things up myself. Three more weeks. That's forever! I wouldn't want to leave without finishing the school term, but if the term had finished last weeks, I would have been a happy camper to have gotten on that plane with Eric. I guess three weeks isn't that long. But I'm just ready, you know?
Tomorrow Kay is going to put my hair in corn rows, and then we're going to one of those jumbo churches with tv screens and things. I mostly want to gawk. Then we'll go to this monkey park, and call it a day. On Monday I head back to school via matatu, but I'm first stopping in Machakos to visit Elijah's children's home because they've been asking about me and that breaks my heart. Also, I'm not sure I'll get another chance to see them before I go. Oh, Baraka and Mumina! I guess when you think about it in terms of what there isn't time to do, then three weeks doesn't seem so long at all!
Then we all woke up early early this morning and drove out to the Rift Valley. Man, that is a pretty cool view. It's just so cool to think about how long ago people were there. Like in Canada, at most a walking path can be what, 500 years old? But Lucy walked in Kenya. It's pretty mind blowing.
Then we drove back into the city for a meeting with people who make solar cookers- more on that later, but first stopped at some fancy pants mall to get money at a bank and a bite to eat. Tip for foreigners on getting withdrawing money: Barclay's seems to be the only place that takes my debit card. For brunch we went to a place called Wimpy's and it was so good even though the orange juice was yellow. Ahem ahem, it's called orange juice.
Them we headed to a giraffe centre. You can feed them right out of your hand and even out of your mouth! You just put a little pellet between your lips and she'll come in for a kiss. The giraffe's name was Laura. She was so pretty (just like my sister Laura, am I right?) with those giant black eyes and long eyelashes. They really are beautiful animals. It's sort of like a horse but with a long neck and better colours. Anyway so it's hard to take a quick enough picture if you just let the giraffe have the food pellet, so you kind of have to hold it tightly. This will ensure that it takes a few seconds for Laura to get it, and that a picture can be taken. Let me tell you something. Giraffes have a very rough and goobery tongue. But we got a pretty cool picture and it's fun to be that close to them. There was even a tiny baby off in the distance. GIRAFFES! Oh, then we got ice cream and it was like, ICE CREAM! Because I love that stuff and I haven't had it in two months. It took me a second, but then I was like, giraffes! AND! Ice cream! Eating ice cream while just a few meters away from a giraffe is the best.
Then we headed to the animal orphanage. Have you ever been centimeters from a cheetah? Sucker, I have. It's was a pretty great little zoo, with all sorts of monkeys, lions eating huge pieces of meat, wart hogs, no less than four cages of cheetahs, and even buffalo. There was this one adorable adorable adorable baby monkey, oh, and an alligator!
Before dropping Eric off at the airport, we had a goodbye dinner of sorts at their aunt's house. Over the part few days there have been lots of goodbye-Eric things. In wrapping things up for him, I've really realized how ready I am to wrap things up myself. Three more weeks. That's forever! I wouldn't want to leave without finishing the school term, but if the term had finished last weeks, I would have been a happy camper to have gotten on that plane with Eric. I guess three weeks isn't that long. But I'm just ready, you know?
Tomorrow Kay is going to put my hair in corn rows, and then we're going to one of those jumbo churches with tv screens and things. I mostly want to gawk. Then we'll go to this monkey park, and call it a day. On Monday I head back to school via matatu, but I'm first stopping in Machakos to visit Elijah's children's home because they've been asking about me and that breaks my heart. Also, I'm not sure I'll get another chance to see them before I go. Oh, Baraka and Mumina! I guess when you think about it in terms of what there isn't time to do, then three weeks doesn't seem so long at all!
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Matatus
The main form of public transportation in Kenya is the matatu, a van with four rows of seats. I have travelled by matatu thrice and each time was quite the experience.
The first time was while in Nairobi. Kay and I were going to head downtown for the day. This was on my first day in Kenya. In Nairobi, they have certain routes and stops. The goal is to always have a full matatu, to maximize profit, so the money collector would lean out the window at each stop and try to convince people to come on. There was traffic, so the matatu went off the official route. This is illegal though, so whenever a police officer appeared, we'd quickly turn on to a side street to avoid being spotted. I felt like an outlaw. It was fun.
I couldn't see out the front window because a giant screen with giant speakers was in the way. From the screen came a music video channel called Black Supremacy and from the speakers came bass-heavy rap and reggae. LOUD rap and reggae. If you had asked me that day if I found the vehicle crowded, I would have answered in the affirmative without hesitation. But now, looking back, that ride seems casual and relaxed. Because now I know better. Now I have been on a rural matatu.
Janet is the school secretary. She kindly offered to accompany me to the market last Thursday. The market is about an hour away but let's be real here, I think next time I will walk.
Nearby the school are some shops, like a few fruit stands and a butchery. This is where the matatu picks people up to drive them to the market. We got seats in the third row. Let me describe the rows.
Row 0: the driver and a passenger bench.
Row 1: a three seater bench accessible from the sliding door.
Row 2: a two and a half seater also by the door with room to side shimmy to further rows.
Row 3: one seat on the left by the door, and a two seater bench on the other side with an aisle to get further back.
Row 4: another three seater. Also, I feel it would be remiss not to mention that there were pictures of Ashanti all over the outside.
Alright, now that the scene is sufficiently set, let me tell you about how many people fit in. There were 2/3/3/3/3 people in the respective rows. I asked Janet why we hadn't left, and she said we were waiting to fill up. What? This wasn't considered full? Oh, how naive I once was. More people came. Bundles were tied to the roof. We were now 3/4/3/3/4. Then a wooden plank came out to bridge the aisle gap in row three. Then a woman and a baby joinen row two. And then the fee collector- for I had forgotten that he needs a seat too- jumped in. That's 21 people you guys.
Then we SPED through bumpy roads. We careened around hair pins with sharp drop-offs on one side of the road. Also, music was still blasting at unbelievable levels. I felt pretty certain that death map imminent. However we arrived alive.
My third matatu encounter was the same day, on the way home from the market. It was old hat. We had snagged the front seats so I took a movie that I will upload when I return. You'll think I must have been moving my hands but I promise, that's just how bumpy it was. Out of curiousity, I looked at the spedometer. It was broken. Oh, matatus.
The first time was while in Nairobi. Kay and I were going to head downtown for the day. This was on my first day in Kenya. In Nairobi, they have certain routes and stops. The goal is to always have a full matatu, to maximize profit, so the money collector would lean out the window at each stop and try to convince people to come on. There was traffic, so the matatu went off the official route. This is illegal though, so whenever a police officer appeared, we'd quickly turn on to a side street to avoid being spotted. I felt like an outlaw. It was fun.
I couldn't see out the front window because a giant screen with giant speakers was in the way. From the screen came a music video channel called Black Supremacy and from the speakers came bass-heavy rap and reggae. LOUD rap and reggae. If you had asked me that day if I found the vehicle crowded, I would have answered in the affirmative without hesitation. But now, looking back, that ride seems casual and relaxed. Because now I know better. Now I have been on a rural matatu.
Janet is the school secretary. She kindly offered to accompany me to the market last Thursday. The market is about an hour away but let's be real here, I think next time I will walk.
Nearby the school are some shops, like a few fruit stands and a butchery. This is where the matatu picks people up to drive them to the market. We got seats in the third row. Let me describe the rows.
Row 0: the driver and a passenger bench.
Row 1: a three seater bench accessible from the sliding door.
Row 2: a two and a half seater also by the door with room to side shimmy to further rows.
Row 3: one seat on the left by the door, and a two seater bench on the other side with an aisle to get further back.
Row 4: another three seater. Also, I feel it would be remiss not to mention that there were pictures of Ashanti all over the outside.
Alright, now that the scene is sufficiently set, let me tell you about how many people fit in. There were 2/3/3/3/3 people in the respective rows. I asked Janet why we hadn't left, and she said we were waiting to fill up. What? This wasn't considered full? Oh, how naive I once was. More people came. Bundles were tied to the roof. We were now 3/4/3/3/4. Then a wooden plank came out to bridge the aisle gap in row three. Then a woman and a baby joinen row two. And then the fee collector- for I had forgotten that he needs a seat too- jumped in. That's 21 people you guys.
Then we SPED through bumpy roads. We careened around hair pins with sharp drop-offs on one side of the road. Also, music was still blasting at unbelievable levels. I felt pretty certain that death map imminent. However we arrived alive.
My third matatu encounter was the same day, on the way home from the market. It was old hat. We had snagged the front seats so I took a movie that I will upload when I return. You'll think I must have been moving my hands but I promise, that's just how bumpy it was. Out of curiousity, I looked at the spedometer. It was broken. Oh, matatus.
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