We do the Watusi... and we're seven feet tall!

In the picture, chaotic Nairobi Inter city Bus Stand. The 'picturesque view from Gaianthiwa Lodge and photo of Kamau (right) and another Gainthiwa member of staff

Some of you might remember that old campsong:

Oh we're from Nairobi
And we're on the destiny????? (doubt this was the word, but I was too young to make sense of the song)
We do the watusi
and we're seven feet tall

Well last week I was in Nairobi. I didn't do the watusi, and didn't see any seven feet tall folk. But Nairobi was cool. Literally maybe more like cold on the first day. This was my second trip to Nairobi, though the first time I spent less than twenty four hours. Nairobi is a bustling modern city with skyscrapers and slums. It somehow reminds me of Johannesburg. Maybe only because it's so modern, yet so African. You'll see the guys in the suits and leather jackets next to the Maasai with red hair and red blankets.

The song continued:

The cannibals may eat us
But they'll never beat us
Coz we're from Nairobi
And we're on the ball!

Nairobi has a reputation of being one of the most dangerous cities in Africa. Travellers are always warned not to arrive in Nairobi at night. I arrived early morning at about 5:30 a.m. I had studied my guidebook well, and memorised the name and address of a popular backpackers hotel so I wouldn't have to look like I didn't know where I was going. Anyone asked I was from Nairobi, and on the ball ;-) So I spent one night at Hotel Terminal, a rundown, cheap but overpriced roach motel, but with very pleasant, helpful staff. That was the first time I had ever seen cockroaches just crawling casually all over the place. I felt like they would run off with my bags if I didn't keep an eye on them.

Anyway I had two phone numbers of people I knew in Nairobi. I needed to find some locals to hang with so I could know what I was doing and where I was going fast.
After a few hours I found one of them, a friend from Kampala, who was on the exact same beat as I was - shopping for her business. I knew I had to stick to her like glue.

So she invited me to move to her hotel, but warned me that there were no sit-down toilets! Me! Been there done that - no sweat. So I moved to an even cheaper cheapie hotel for traders like me. US$3.30 a night! Gianthiwa guesthouse with its walls that badly needed a paint job, shared squat toilets that no one ever remembered to flush, shared showers, but on the bright side - there was running water so the toilets could flush if you really wanted to do that, but no one really wanted to, and low and behold hot water anytime day or night, and there was security - the manager, Kamau, a big strapping Kikuyu man with dyed teeth, stood at the door every night to ensure the safety of his guests.

Anyway to cut a long, long, long story short. I spent about 10 days travelling - 4 in Nairobi, 4 in Dar Es Salaam, and two more in Nairobi on my return. Though I planned my trip to Nairobi from Kampala well and arrived in the morning, I had no control over the trip from Dar back to Nairobi and arrived at about midnight. I had the misfortune of sitting next to a lecherous cannibalistic wolf of man, who had bought me some cashew nuts, a Coke and an apple, and had figured that by midnight that he was going to eat me and invited me to share a hotel room with him, you know since I was new to Nairobi. I pushed him aside and said "I know where I'm going!" and walked away singing to myself "Coz I'm from Nairobi, and I'm on the ball". I could see Kamau the Kikuyu guard looking out for me, smiling on the stoop of his rundown hotel. "Mzungu, you're back."

That's how we do it in Finland!!!

In the pictures.... 'Family' outing - Eric and I have dinner with Kiti and her parents. Kiti and I at the monthly National Theatre open air Jam session.


My room-mate is a wonderful person. She's from Finland and is everything that we imagine Scandinavians to be - very pale with white blond her and very, very light, blue eyes.

She really enjoys her African experience. She works with children and adolescents in both urban and rural settings. Everywhere she goes little barefoot Ugandan children run behind her smiling, shouting and waving "Mzunguuuu, mzunguuuu, Hellooooo, Muzungooooo" or "Mzunguuuu, mzunguuuu, Byeeeee Mzungooooooo". Mzungu means foreigner, but is used mainly for white people. Many of them had never seen such a white person in real life. But she loves Uganda, Ugandan food, Ugandan music, Ugandan culture, her Ugandan friends.

This week she was really excited because her parents had decided to come and visit and see for themselves why she really liked Africa so much. She told them okay, you're coming to Africa to see how I live and understand the culture. You're coming from Europe, I want you to bring your luggage full of toys and things to help the Ugandan children who I work with, and I want you to contact all of our friends and encourage them to give you used toys so we can distribute them to a few foundations here.

So they emailed her to tell her of the progress, they had got so many donations from people, just like she had requested. They'd bring everything with them.
The day came and she went to the airport with a Ugandan boyfriend to collect her parents. They all came home and we waited very anxiously to see what they had brought with them for the African children.

First they apologised profusely, they didn't realise that their luggage allowance was only 20kgs each, so they had to leave lots of stuff at the airport, but they had chosen carefully, and thought they had brought the most useful items.

What we wondered had they chosen? Did they chose shoes? clothes? toys?

They opened the suitcases. Look! they exclaimed.

We looked but could not understand what they were showing us. What on earth had they brought??

"Look" they showed us excitedly. "We brought reflectors!"

Eric, a Ugandan, and I looked at each other blankly with big imaginary question marks in speech bubbles over our heads.

"Yes, reflectors are very useful. In Finland it is the law, young children have to wear reflectors!"

Then slowly I began to see the light (no pun intended). Mr and Mrs F. come from a part of the world where it is dark for 6 months in the year. Of course the children have to wear reflectors. They had no idea what the little Ugandan children might need, but surely they must need reflectors!

Good intentions but... they had brought about 30 kg of relectors to distribute to children all over Uganda!

Anyway I was still excited to get my reflector, as I'm sure the kids will be too.

Now those mad matatu drivers can see me in the night trying to walk along the side of the road, while dodging the cars and trying not to fall into the gully!
I imagine some little children in a village like Bugiri which might not have electricity, opening their packages of reflectors and wondering what to do with these plastic things, but as resourceful as African children are, I know they will become well appreciated toys.

Do you want to help African children?

Can I politely suggest that the children in rural Uganda who walk to school barefoot in threadbare school uniforms would greatly appreciate it if you donate shoes, clothes, books, toys, money to the local hospital, library, schools, etc. etc. not reflectors, even though they make a really great fashion statement.

This tiny episode illustrates just what happens with a lot of the foreign aid.
Thanks for my reflector Mr. and Mrs. F. You're great people.

Keeping up with the Joneses - Part 2

As I said in the last blog, I normally live simply, and I'm quite contented with this simplicity. I like my space and my privacy that's all, don't really care about how other people live.

Well one day I left work pretty early and decided to beat Kampala evening mad rush, paid a 'boda boda' to get home, and finally got home around 5.30. I had an appointment later so I wanted to get ready without any hassle. I strolled up my wonderful paved road, and idly put my hand in my bag for my key. Hmmmm, wasn't there. Must be in a another pocket I thought.... no not there either. Okay, now where the heck is this thing. I called our caretaker - yes the caretaker has a cell phone and speaks English. "Joseph, I've forgotten my key at work can you come and open the door for me?" Sure no problem, he came opened the door and I went and left my bag in the shared kitchen, and decided I had to go back to work to get the key, as Joseph said he didn't know where the spare might be or if there even was one. While leaving my bag in the kitchen I got an sms from my Congolese friend Christian saying that he was on his way to see me to give me some cloth from Congo and another 'make-up' gift - we had had a 'falling out' the week before. So I replied and said "if you are nearby I'll meet you along the way if not I'll meet you at the office as I have to go back to get 'something'".

So Christian said he was already on his way and would be there soon. I was to wait for him at the bus stop. My friend Christian who claimed that he was nearby, in true African time style, took a whopping 45 minutes to get to the bus stop, and then when he finally got there we couldn't find each other. The bus stop is more like a bus terminal with no proper landmarks so it took another 5 - 10 minutes to actually find each other. Of course me and my impatient self I was very angry and shouted at poor Christian in my broken French about why he had made me wait for so long, I could have gone back to the office and come back already!'What are you doing now Christian? If you think I'm going to stand here and talk to you, you lie! You better come with me and talk with me in the matatu!' So he jumped in the matatu with me and accompanied me back to work, but was so sheepish that he didn't say a word. As it had already gotten dark, and Christian being a man of honour, decided that despite Lesley's wrath and terrible temper he could not leave this Mzungu (foreigner) woman to go back to the office alone.

We arrived at the office about half an hour later in almost complete darkness. Luckily the caretaker lives on site, so he opened up for me and I ran inside to find the key. I checked everywhere on the desk, under the table, behind the computer. No KEY! Now I was really upset! What to do? I ran back outside to meet Christian, who was still waiting to give me the cloth and the gift. Okay I half listened while he apologised for last week's disagreement and presented me with the gifts. Two beautiful wooden trays to beautify my home! Sure, wonderful, but what if I could never get back into my home! He escorted me back to the bus stop and left me to make my way home. I hadn't told him that I had no key, because of course I could do without the offer of 'stay by me!' from this man. I called and cancelled the other appointment.

What to do, what to do? I arrived home and went to look for my landlady who lived in the building next door. Apparently she was over in our building with the caretaker and some other people. They were at an apartment that had just been vacated. I went across and knocked tentatively. "Irene" I called out, "did Joseph tell you I lost my key????" "What? no he didn't. What now? Where are you going to sleep? We don't have a spare for that room!" The ground could have opened and swallowed me up. I thought there was a spare, just that Joseph did not know where it was. So Irene told me to come in and sit and wait till they finished their meeting and afterwards they'd decide what to do.

So I entered my neighbours' apartment. Though the apartment was directly in front of my room, I had never even glimpsed inside. Now here I was inside waiting for the meeting to finish. I sat on the edge of the faux leather sofa and looked around the apartment. Hmmm what a nice place. I sat back a little bit more comfortably, and reached over for the remote control. Wow a working TV with CABLE!! I flicked the channels till I found East Africa TV, which is like a local MTV. I hadn't watched TV in 2 months! I heard the door open and Irene and co. walked out. 'Okay we've decided that you won't find a locksmith tonight so you can stay here, and in the morning we'll decide what to do.' WOW!!! Thank you!! She went back to her house, and Joseph stayed around for a little bit and said he'd check on me later when he came to turn off the generator. I forgot to mention that we had no power in our neighbourhood every other night, but the luxurious apartments in front are serviced by a generator. So there I was in a nice posh apartment with a living room and dining room, an 'inside' toilet and shower with hot and cold water, AND electricity, instead of in my little hole with candles. I could get accustomed to that.... Imagine not having to walk outside to go to the toilet or use the shower!

Anyway I decided to just go in the back to get something to eat from my bag, which was still in the kitchen. I felt my way around in the darkness, got the bag, got the food, then I thought, let me just try my door... I put my hand on the handle and turned slowly. It opened. What!? It was open? But where was the key? I lit a candle and looked around. No no key, but of course the room was a mess anyway so I couldn't find any key in that half light. So I took my food and went back into the Joneses apartment to watch some telly, sprawl out on the sofa, use the toaster, microwave etc. I walked through the whole house, flicked the lights on and off, turned the water on, flushed the toilets (yes there were more than one!) I was like a child at Christmas.

Anyway it had to come to an end sometime. Lights came back around 11 and I decided to go back 'home' to look for the key. I sent Joseph an sms to say that my place was open and I'd gone back home. I looked everywhere in the room, overturned everything, and then finally gave up the search around midnight. I got ready for bed and closed the door. As the door shut I heard a little jangle... there were my keys in the door right where I had left them in the morning.

Keeping up with the Joneses - Africa Style1

Well you know what they say about keeping up with the neighbours? That has never really been my concern. I normally just mind my own business, live in simple accommodation and spend my money on other things...

Here in Kampala I live in pretty okay accommodation. A one room flat at the back of some apartments. My landlady is really 'savvy'. She designed an apartment building with four apartments and four 'servants' quarters, based on her experience living in London while her husband was studying. She used to work in people's homes and became accustomed to the standard of living that Europeans were accustomed to. So on her return to Uganda she built these four apartments and furnished them well. She charges a whopping US$1000 per. As none of her tenants have the servants that she expected them to have, she then upgraded the servants' quarters and rents them out to single people like me. Currently only two are rented, one to me and on eto my Finnish colleague.

These 'servants quarters' are fully furnished with everything - even towels. The laundry room services the entire block, so imagine we even have a washing machine, as well as other niceties like microwave, hotwater kettle, toaster etc. etc. And we have nighttime armed security, as well as (my Trini friends might not understand this luxery) paved roads!

So I decided why not - seems like an OK place, and I have a housing allowance. I asked her how much and she told me "Two hundred". I took the place, but around the time to pay my rent, I couldn't decide if it was "Two hundred dollars" or "Two hundred thousand shillings" - about US$116. My work colleagues all told me - "Nah, we know your landlady - so she means 200 dollars. So I went and searched to find all the dollars that I had and went and paid her the rent.

You should have seen her eyes gleam when I gave her the money! She was so excited her eyes nearly fell out of her head :-) And she asked me 'How much money is that?' So I told her $200, then she said 'No - in shillings'. Then I realised my mistake. But I had already given her the money, which she willingly took and sent me off on my way.

I cursed myself - how could I be so stupid! She had said 'thousand' not 'dollars' on the phone. What to do now? I wrestled with the possibilities for about a week! Eventually I had resigned and said "oh well, I'll look for a new place next month and leave it at that", then in the middle of the night I got a brain storm.
Next morning I sent her a text message as follows "I know you're busy, but could you send the gardener with my receipt? Please note that I've paid part of the next month's rent as a deposit. Thank you, Lesley-Ann".

Great brainstorm. I got my receipt "toute suite", slipped under the door next morning, ,in dollars with the conversion rate and the balance due next month.
:-)