Why?

Lydia was a bit frazzled this morning, a departure from her usual calm.  She said that she had to leave her home before 5a because of some news she received about a market downtown.  She keeps a stall at this market with some of her sewing projects.  (We also pay her on the side to shorten some pants.)  She was told by a friend that there had been some commotion at the market and she should go to make sure her stall was OK.  Thankfully, it was.

But when she arrived, she found out that there had been plans by the city council to clear the area surrounding the market of its street vendors.  The vendors apparently hadn’t been told about this plan.  In the middle of the night, heavy equipment was brought in to tear up the street.  A nightwatchman had drifted off to sleep and was killed by the equipment operators.  “Why,” Lydia asked, “didn’t they just honk their horns before getting to work?  Certainly, the man would have woken up and his life would have been spared?  Why, couldn’t the city have warned the street vendors about this plan, so that they would not have lost valuable wares?”   

Who’s the Boss?

I cannot get used to the way muzungus (and others?) use the term “boss” here in Nairobi.  If the guard opens the gate, “Asante, boss”.  Talking to a taxi driver, “Please stop here, boss.”  It just feels super weird to me.  Boss most definitely refers to a man and always to someone who is most certainly not actually in charge.  Using it just seems to highlight the extreme power mismatch going on between people in this city (and elsewhere?). 

House Helpers Without Exploitation

Is it possible to hire house helpers* without engaging in exploitation?  Does it matter where you are?  (Of course it does.  If a geographer believes in anything it is that PLACE MATTERS.)  Does living in Nairobi present particular challenges to this question?  If so, what does this non-exploitative relationship look like?  How can I achieve it?  If not, how does a family with two working parents and a child move forward with their careers?  Am I asking the right questions?

*I include all manner of childcare in the category of house helpers.

Braving the Matatu

In many places that I’ve visited (Amman, Panama, Israel) a private system for public transport flourishes.  Here in Nairobi, there is the matatu.  Matatus are vans that hold approximately 16 people (or more if squeezed in) and ride along the established bus routes picking up and dropping off passengers anywhere along the route. There is a driver and an expediter who handles all the money and tells the driver when to stop and when to continue on.  DW, in his many moons of travel to Nairobi, has never ridden a matatu.  And for good reason.  Matatus drivers have a reputation for being wild and completely unsafe.  The ride was rumored to be stinky, with ear-blasting music, and you might pick up TB (or some other disease) to boot.  Basically, not recommended.  But since arriving, I’ve met a number of young, muzungu women who ride matatus during the day – so I said, what the heck?!  Let’s do this.  I asked my new friend RK to take me for a ride.  (She rides them all the time.)

First, the pick up.  You better know where you are going and you have to know approximately how much it will cost.  You should confirm this before hopping inside.  We had a choice of matatus at our various pick up points and you can decide that one looks too rickety, the music is too loud, or you generally have a good feeling about one versus another.

Then, the ride.  Relieve yourself of any notion of personal space, because you won’t have any.  People will smush themselves into spaces “between” seats where no tush will fit.  Make sure you have small change.  The expediter will give change, but will not be happy with big bills.  Body Odor…. Yes.  Blaring Music….. Indeed.  Some drivers seem to be worse than others, but the ones who took me around town seemed downright cautious.

Finally, the dismount.  The expediter will tell the driver to stop, but it may seem more like a rolling slow-down than an actual stop, especially if it’s not a regular pick up point.  Be prepared to force your body through some small spaces to get out of the vehicle. 

All said and done, my matatu ride was actually pleasantly uneventful.  Yes, it was a bit uncomfortable, but the price was right.  We paid 20 bob (shillings) – approximately 23 cents for a ride that would’ve easily been 500 or so by taxi.  Cool.

Next up – the motorcycle taxis.  (But I’ll tell my mom about it only after I arrive where I’m going safe and sound.)

Week 3 Wrap-up

Today marks three weeks since we arrived in Nairobi and I have to say, I didn’t expect this place to grow on me as fast as it has.  It definitely has its… er…. quirks that make the pace of life somewhat different than what I am used to, but I don’t know if that is all a bad thing.
For this week’s wrap up I’ll give you my top 5 pet peeves of Nairobi coupled with top 5 enjoyment factors about this city.

Pet Peeves

5. Crime.  I haven’t actually experienced any of it first hand (thank god), but its existence means that I have to live my life in a certain way: no going out on my own at night, special care taken when going out at all, plus this general suspicion of strangers.   Not a fan.

4. Intermittent Internet.  This is more of a headache than a true nuisance.  I rely on internet to connect me to my family and friends.  Actually I’m hoping that it will help me focus on the true work at hand – dissertation research.  (So it goes in both the good and bad column)

3. Car Traffic.  Since I’m home a lot, I don’t have to sit in this as much as DW does, but the traffic is ridiculous.  It is unpredictable and can leave you at a standstill for hours.  Ugh.  (However, I’m always reminded that we aren’t hindered by traffic, we are traffic.)

2. Undrinkable Tap Water.  I so appreciate just being able to turn on the faucet and drink water without fear.  Not possible in Nairobi.  We are purchasing filtered water and aside from the expense, it’s just a shame.  It also means I haven’t had a green salad in three weeks. Boo.

1. Burning Stuff. I guess I have a sensitive nose because the burning that takes place periodically next door is just a lot for me to handle.  I also think some people are using gikos to warm their homes in our building!!  I know it isn’t good to breathe and it is just downright unpleasant.

Despite these pet peeves, I do think that the enjoyment factors are beating them out.

5. Lush Greenery. It has been a long time since I lived somewhere that had lush greenery everywhere.  I do love both AZ and CO climes, but I am digging the huge leaves, exotic flowers, and other loveliness that comes with more rain.

4. Pole Pole Attitude (Pronounced Poh-lay).  This is the generally laid back and relaxed approach many Kenyans have to their surroundings.  Perhaps I should also put this on the negative list because sometimes, it is good to get riled up.  But in general, this at ease stance vis-a-vis the world is calming.

3. Availability of Everything.  I know I poo-pooed this attribute of Nairobi when we were back in CO, but it really does impact our lives for the better.  Hankering for a particular kind of cheese?  Nakumatt has it.  Need to outfit a house with the necessities?  No problem.  Just blew out your power supply on your computer because you're a bonehead and forgot to switch it?  It'll be here in the morning.

2. Avocados, Pineapples and other delicious fruits and veggies.  ‘Nuf said.

1. Friends in the Yard.  This is a distinct benefit for us to be living in an apartment complex instead of a single family home.  J has made some terrific friends of all ages and backgrounds in our complex.  The kids are fun and kind and I know he is enriched by the experience of meeting them.  See photo evidence below.
 

Viewing the Mara

This past weekend we went to the Masai Mara – I’m a geographer and needed a map, so here you go.

And a close up, satellite style.

We woke at 5a to arrive in downtown Nairobi around 7 to catch our tour bus.  This thing was mammoth.  Imagine a truck container that had been converted into a passenger bus.  We were certainly the tallest thing on the road.  Then began our journey.  We had it in our heads that the ride would be four hours – WRONG.  Googlemaps cannot be trusted in Kenya (or anywhere?).  After stopping for lunch and traversing some of the bumpiest and most treacherous driving I have ever seen, we arrived at our camp around 3pm.  Then we set out on our first game drive.

The Masai Mara Game Reserve was established in the early 1960s and much of what I know about it,I read on its wikipedia site here.  The reason we decided to go this weekend is because we heard about the Great Migration, which apparently is happening now as Wildebeests (could be called the “weirdebeasts” for their odd appearance) move en masse from the Serengeti into the Mara and back again.  Unfortunately, although we nailed the right season to see the migration, our short trip meant that we didn’t actually see wildebeests by the hundreds or thousands as expected.  However, we did see lots of animals, got out of town to see some new landscapes, viewed the great rift valley (geo-nerd alert!!), learned a bit about the Masai people, and had a lovely time.
And what did we see?  From the paragraph on the last post, here’s what we viewed:

wildebeest CHECK, gazelles CHECK, antelopes CHECK, topi CHECK, giraffes CHECK, elephants CHECK, ostrich CHECK, zebra CHECK, warthogs CHECK, elands NOT SURE?, buffalo CHECK
Plus we got an eye-full of lions with cubs and a leopard finishing a huge meal.

And without further ado, my photos.  A disclaimer: I am not a photographer, nor do I have a telephoto lens.  Plus, sometimes I had to choose between watching something with binoculars and taking picture – binoculars won many times.  But I hope you’ll enjoy this collection.
Link to the picasa album is here: https://picasaweb.google.com/MTIsaak/MasaiMaraTrip?authkey=Gv1sRgCJmQkIi93KDxBQ#

Over the next few days/weeks I will go back to these photos and narrate some stuff about them, about our trip, and about what we learned.  In the meantime, enjoy. 

A bit of commentary:  There seems to be a power struggle between the local council that controls some of the game reserve and the national wildlife association in Kenya.  And this makes sense because the reserve is a cash cow – each non-resident paid $80 USD to enter for 24 hours (thankfully, Jonah was free.)  It was intimated to us that unscrupulous ticket takers pocket large sums of the cash.  It certainly hasn’t gone to enrich the entirety of the Masai people, who live traditional lifestyles based on animal herding.  But there is a lot I don’t know and don’t understand.  How was the Mara established?  How is it managed?  What sorts of biological inventories or other research are conducted there?  I must read an environmental history of Kenya generally and of the Masai Mara region specifically. 

And what I know you’ve all been wondering:  J did great on the trip.  It required basically two days of sitting in his carseat on very uncomfortable roads and he slept through lots of it like a champ.  Did he enjoy looking at the animals?  I don’t know.  He seems to enjoy mooing at cows more than staring at giraffes.  I guess he just has pedestrian taste. 

Our Flat

I haven’t posted much yet about our flat where we are living, but pictures are so much more satisfying than my wordy rendition.  So here goes:

Since we plan to only be here a year, we are renting a fully furnished place.  This relieved a lot of stress on my part and made our arrival so much easier.  But it also means that the furnishings are a little… well… fancier than we would choose.

When you open the door, you see our living room, which opens onto a lovely porch.

The living room is open to the dining area and kitchen.  I am making a tomato-chard stew. 

(Notice the mess: indicates that this picture was taken before Lydiah arrived on the scene.)

J has a big room where he can play with the load of toys that I brought from the U.S.  We put his gigantic mattress on the floor.

 

The all-important guest room, ready for visitors.

 

The carpet that we had to… ahem… remove.

       

Looking out from the front porch are some picture of the highrise building going up next to our complex.  You can see the lack of any safety procedures taken to protect the workers.     

And J loves playing on the porch.  This kiddo loves hats!

   

Challenging One’s Humanity

I mentioned in the last post that we bought a car here.  Driving poses many challenges, aside from the matatu drivers who have no respect for traffic laws (line in the middle of the road… what’s that for?) and the left sided driving (legacy of British colonialism).  There’s also the mind-numbing traffic, which can turn anyone into a road raged maniac.

But aside from all these challenges, there’s another category of road scams that we’ve heard about.  For example, perhaps you see someone having an apparent seizure by the side of the road.  Your instinct is to stop, perhaps take them to the hospital.  But you can’t do that because there is a good likelihood that it is all part of scam to get you to stop, open your car, while bandits come and steal your stuff.  (By the way, stuff in this case also includes your baby, so this is not just about material possessions.)   Also, I was told in no uncertain terms by DW’s friend that I was NEVER to stop for someone hurt on the road, whether I caused an accident or not.  If I stop, I will certainly be blamed for whatever occurred.  These kinds of “rules of the road” really challenge my notion of what is good and decent in the world.  I have stopped many times in the U.S. when I witness an accident, to make sure I give a statement to the cops.  It’s the right thing to do.  I need to maintain a sense of decency amidst this new context.

There are other things to be aware of when driving.  The police are not your friends.  The rules were laid out for me:

- Never make eye contact with a traffic cop.  Don’t smile, don’t wave, don’t acknowledge.
- Never stop for a police officer, unless of course they are standing directly in your way.
- If you must stop, only roll down your window an inch, never more, to talk with them.
- Find a way not to go with them to the police station.  If this means offering a bribe, do it.
- Don’t offer too low a bribe (because then they will accuse you of trying to bribe them) and don’t offer too high a bribe (because then they will understand how deep your pockets go.)
- Try to avoid tangling with the police.

We’re trying to drive smartly.  Windows up, doors locked at all times.  But this kind of living also has an effect on you.  Fear becomes the undertone to mobility.  I know I don’t want to live in a constant state of fear.

Week Whisked By

It is Friday morning in paradise and we are preparing to go on a very short jaunt to the Masai Mara this weekend.  Such a trip really deserves a few days, considering it is a four hour drive just to the game reserve, but given Daniel’s work schedule, we’re only going for an overnight taste of the Mara.  It is currently the wildebeest migration and so we’re hoping to see wildebeests by the hundreds.   The tour operator says:

“Right now the Mara is swarming with animals, everywhere you look you will see something. You can expect to see the lions of the Mara, hundreds of thousands of wildebeest, gazelles, antelopes, topi (not sure what that one is), giraffes, elephants, ostrich, zebra, warthogs, elands, buffalo, etc. and if we get real lucky we may spot the leopard on Sunday morning.”

Let’s hope J is psyched rather than terrified. 

Also, we are celebrating a very productive week.  Tasks that can be ticked off our to do list include:

- We set up my desktop computer (with the minor hiccup of blowing out the power supply on the first time and having to replace it) and I’m a super happy camper writing away.  IMHO, it was definitely worth the headache of schlepping it on the plane.  (For the record, I’m not sure DW agrees.)

- We bought a cobalt blue RAV 4.  DW worked very hard to make sure we didn’t pay too high a muzungu (white person) upcharge.  And it has some minor dings, but we’re so happy to have the flexibility to go out at night with walking not really an option after the sun goes down.  Last night, we took it for a spin to a friend’s house for dinner.  What a treat.  At the moment, only DW is driving.  With the wild matatu (public transport minibuses) drivers and the switch to the other side of the street, I’m just not there yet.

- Lydiah joined our lives.  Having a nanny means that I can get back to work in a serious way and it doesn’t hurt that she also mops, dusts, and does laundry.  She sings beautiful kiswahili songs to J, while he tries to sing along.  She pushes him on the bicycle that he desperately wants to ride.  I hope that he is enriched by all the people who nurture him along the way.

-DW set up an M-PESA account.  In Kenya, one of the chief ways that money is moved around is through a debit account that is administered through the phone company.  You can often pay a person, a store, a seller on the street, all through M-PESA on your cell phone.  DW claims that the reason we don’t have this system in the U.S. is because of the credit card lobby.  It is certainly very convenient.

TIA?  Plenty to celebrate.

If the NYT posts it, then it must be true.

Come visit Kenya, see article here. and pictures here.  And duh, you get to see us.

The Help versus Helpers

My good friend G.A. (initials used to protect the innocent) was recently able to visit me on my trip to PDX with the rents.  She brought her partner and new babe – what a treat.  She usually makes some deep statements about life that keep me thinking long after our get together and this was no exception.  She described that she had been at a wedding where her friend, the bride, greeted the catering staff with an exclamation, “Thank god THE HELP is here!”  And G.A. made the distinction for me that I think is useful.  When you refer to the catering staff as “The Help,” you de-humanize them.  Yes, the staff people are HELPERS, as in people you employ to help accomplish tasks.  But THE HELP is a noun, a thing, disposable, unfeeling.  G.A. nails it again!

Today my HELPER, Lydiah, started working for us.  She will primarily watch Jonah during the day, while I try to retrieve my brain from the recesses of motherhood, sleep deprivation, and the challenges of moving.  She will do some light housekeeping too so that our house can stay in order.  I feel so blessed to be able to hire someone to help at this moment. 

This process of hiring Lydiah was my chief concern before moving to Nairobi.  I had joined a “Nairobi Mums” group prior to our arrival and watched as mother after mother complained about their househelpers.  One woman complained that her DM (domestic manager) was bathing her LO (little one) outside in the cold.  (Yes, it gets cold her in Nairobi.)  Another complained that her helper wanted more than her allotted 2 days off per month.  Yikes!  Others told stories of botched abortions or extremely low pay.  I was not excited about the prospect of managing a helper with these kinds of stories.  But we found Lydiah through a network from the American Embassy.  She has 20 years of experience working with expats and rave reviews from her most recent post.  She’s been here only 3 hours and I’m already quite pleased with how this relationship is working.

By the end of the week, we will go to the local grocery so I can make sure to stock the house with tea and food that suits her, as I certainly cannot have someone go hungry in my house.  I’m still a Jewish mother, after all. 

Living on a Prayer

The guys who are working on the enormous highrise that is rising right next door to our humble apartment complex (humble only in comparison) must be very religious.  How else would someone agree to work 14 stories up on a cinder block building with no hard hats, no scaffolding, and (from my vantage anyway) no straps or other protection?  

T. I. A.

I was warned during my preparation for this trip that things are just... well... different in Africa.  So when things don't go as planned, or something gets messed up, you just attribute it accordingly - TIA, This is Africa.   For example, you try to take a shower in the morning in the hotel where you are staying, but there's no hot water..... TIA.  Or the airport catches fire just 11 hours after you've arrived through their international arrivals hall.... TIA.  A handy acronym.

Prior to arriving in Nairobi, I had subscribed to a Nairobi mums (that's moms for all you Americans) facebook group.  But the people in the group seemed to be using TIA in a totally different way.  One mum wrote:  "My LO (little one) is sick with a weird rash.  Which pediatrician do you all recommend?  TIA."  That certainly didn't make any sense to me.  Or another posting: "I am due for my second baby in a few weeks.  Does anyone have experience with VBAC that they would be willing to share.  TIA."  Um, something was not right.  These TIAs were not the ones that I explained earlier.  And then DW let me in on the little secret.  TIA also means Thanks In Advance.  Ooops.  I got a good laugh out of that one.

But the truth is that so far (knock on wood), we haven't had too many TIA experiences.  In fact, things have gone so very smoothly that I hesitate to even talk about it.  For example, we arranged with the apartment broker to hand over the keys at noon yesterday.  We arrived at noon and voila, he was there.  And he proceeded to make sure all the electricity worked, that our gas was pumping well into our stove, that hot water was working.  All the beds had fresh sheets on them (that had been freshly ironed, something I certainly do not understand.)  Basically everything was as we would want them.  TIA?  I'll take it.