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.