beautiful clothing.
a lil closer.
a nice woman i met in the road.
What about Hollering?
That purple stuff.
Kid on bike, like the blue.
pool is good place to charge your phone.
apartments across from mine.
rush hour.
he gone.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
First Pix
taken from my balcony: a view with no room?
beautiful clothing.
a lil closer.
a nice woman i met in the road.
What about Hollering?
That purple stuff.
Kid on bike, like the blue.
pool is good place to charge your phone.
apartments across from mine.
rush hour.
he gone.
beautiful clothing.
a lil closer.
a nice woman i met in the road.
What about Hollering?
That purple stuff.
Kid on bike, like the blue.
pool is good place to charge your phone.
apartments across from mine.
rush hour.
he gone.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Locks and Laundry
So my apartment has a cleaning person, who allegedly comes five days a week. I say "allegedly" because I've never see her, but my bed is made whenever i come home, something I am def not used to. I write this person notes in the morning about what needs to be cleaned. And then I come home and it's clean. that's it.
pretty, luxurious yea? Well there are two caveats that prevent me from fully enjoying this Nairobi standard (and by standard, I mean, standard for rich people). The first is that they won't wash "undergarments." While every other item of laundry is totally cool, there is a big taboo in Kenya about washing other people's "delicates." The dry cleaners won't even do it. And on the list of things I need washed, I would have to say that boxers are number one (no pun). I mean, to paraphrase a rap line, "I got jeans I ain't even washed yet." But drawers is another thing entirely, and is pretty consistently in the "i need to wash this" category. So it's gonna be a lot of hand-washing in the tub, which will allow me to pretend that I don't have every other single amenity taken care of while i'm here.
The second caveat is that I see the room-service lifestyle as a trade-off with the security realities. I literally have to lock my door with a padlock, on a separate iron door, in addition to the deadbolt and the normal doorknob lock on the regular door. The lock to open the doorknob lock is actually hilarious; it's like a "Secret Garden"-looking key that some victorian woman would wear around her neck and give to her betrothed. So it takes me like twenty minutes to enter and exit my apartment. And similarly, we have a nice porch, but it is entirely fenced-in from top to bottom by this iron gate. And we're on the fifth floor! i guess it's just so the Kenyan SpiderMan doesn't get any ideas.
The other security deal is that I basically have to live like a reverse vampire here, i.e., off the streets when the sun sets. If u want to do "something" after 7 PM, u gotta call a taxi. that feels kinda limiting. but i only been here for a few days, so maybe i can get used to it. It's just that sitting in a taxi is so much less comfortable without clean underwear. jk.
pretty, luxurious yea? Well there are two caveats that prevent me from fully enjoying this Nairobi standard (and by standard, I mean, standard for rich people). The first is that they won't wash "undergarments." While every other item of laundry is totally cool, there is a big taboo in Kenya about washing other people's "delicates." The dry cleaners won't even do it. And on the list of things I need washed, I would have to say that boxers are number one (no pun). I mean, to paraphrase a rap line, "I got jeans I ain't even washed yet." But drawers is another thing entirely, and is pretty consistently in the "i need to wash this" category. So it's gonna be a lot of hand-washing in the tub, which will allow me to pretend that I don't have every other single amenity taken care of while i'm here.
The second caveat is that I see the room-service lifestyle as a trade-off with the security realities. I literally have to lock my door with a padlock, on a separate iron door, in addition to the deadbolt and the normal doorknob lock on the regular door. The lock to open the doorknob lock is actually hilarious; it's like a "Secret Garden"-looking key that some victorian woman would wear around her neck and give to her betrothed. So it takes me like twenty minutes to enter and exit my apartment. And similarly, we have a nice porch, but it is entirely fenced-in from top to bottom by this iron gate. And we're on the fifth floor! i guess it's just so the Kenyan SpiderMan doesn't get any ideas.
The other security deal is that I basically have to live like a reverse vampire here, i.e., off the streets when the sun sets. If u want to do "something" after 7 PM, u gotta call a taxi. that feels kinda limiting. but i only been here for a few days, so maybe i can get used to it. It's just that sitting in a taxi is so much less comfortable without clean underwear. jk.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Steppin Out
My second full day in Kenya. Some reflections (eternal).
There are these buses called "Mutatus" that take people around the city, and while I haven't ridden one yet, I've been entertained by the designs their drivers paint on em. One I saw today had "Kanye West" written in pretty slick font all over it I almost thought it was the actual tour bus. When I pointed it out to a co-worker, she responded, "oh that's nothing. I once saw a Mutatu with 'Klu Klux Klan' written on it in beautiful calligraphy." Ok, so apparently people don't always know what they're writing on the side of their Mutatus. But when I asked a Kenyan colleague if he knew who Kanye was, he said, "oh yes. He is an international music personality." Well said.
I also noticed that every single barbershop in Kenya has this same picture of Ludacris outside the shop. No idea. Bottom-line though: I can't wait to get my haircut by the Kenyan Cedric the Entertainer.
I'm also gettin into the food here. I went to the grocery store the other day and was kinda overwhelmed. I picked up a can that said "beans in tomato sauce." I looked at the ingredients. It said: "beans, tomato sauce." I was left with many questions. "What kind of beans? What's in the tomato sauce?" These imponderables eluded me. I bought it anyway.
One unfortunate incident coming home from the grocery store. It was gettin kinda dark, and somebody came up behind me and grabbed my grocery bag. "let me hold that for you" he said. He didn't get aggressive or anything, and dropped the bag when I gave him this look like, "what is going on here." but he was like "why are you scared?" and I was like, "Because I didn't expect someone to come up behind me and grab my groceries." But he just left after asking for money and me sayin I gotta go.
Unrelatedly, someone told me that every Kenyan has a different English accent. This seems true, but they all speak excellent English. Hopefully this means they will be tolerant of my plan to "learn Swahili by repeating anything anyone says to me in Swahili back to them." I'll let you know how that pans out.
There are these buses called "Mutatus" that take people around the city, and while I haven't ridden one yet, I've been entertained by the designs their drivers paint on em. One I saw today had "Kanye West" written in pretty slick font all over it I almost thought it was the actual tour bus. When I pointed it out to a co-worker, she responded, "oh that's nothing. I once saw a Mutatu with 'Klu Klux Klan' written on it in beautiful calligraphy." Ok, so apparently people don't always know what they're writing on the side of their Mutatus. But when I asked a Kenyan colleague if he knew who Kanye was, he said, "oh yes. He is an international music personality." Well said.
I also noticed that every single barbershop in Kenya has this same picture of Ludacris outside the shop. No idea. Bottom-line though: I can't wait to get my haircut by the Kenyan Cedric the Entertainer.
I'm also gettin into the food here. I went to the grocery store the other day and was kinda overwhelmed. I picked up a can that said "beans in tomato sauce." I looked at the ingredients. It said: "beans, tomato sauce." I was left with many questions. "What kind of beans? What's in the tomato sauce?" These imponderables eluded me. I bought it anyway.
One unfortunate incident coming home from the grocery store. It was gettin kinda dark, and somebody came up behind me and grabbed my grocery bag. "let me hold that for you" he said. He didn't get aggressive or anything, and dropped the bag when I gave him this look like, "what is going on here." but he was like "why are you scared?" and I was like, "Because I didn't expect someone to come up behind me and grab my groceries." But he just left after asking for money and me sayin I gotta go.
Unrelatedly, someone told me that every Kenyan has a different English accent. This seems true, but they all speak excellent English. Hopefully this means they will be tolerant of my plan to "learn Swahili by repeating anything anyone says to me in Swahili back to them." I'll let you know how that pans out.
Arrive On Arrival
"Survival Got Me Buggin, But I'm Alive on Arrival"
Oh yes. I'm back on the blog like I'm back on the block. The best rapper at Harvard Law is in Kenya for three months, and he intends to write somethin. Let's begin at the beginning.
I was the last person to check-in for my flight. They actually closed the ticket-counter, and opened it up only out of the goodness of their Dutch hearts (I flew KLM "Royal Dutch Airlines." Food, not bad). Mad traffic on the way to the airport, and I wouldn't have made it at all if it weren't for the extraordinary driving efforts of my father, such efforts not excluding reversing off the highway. I started watching "Eat, Pray, Love" on the plane, but lets just say the book was better than the movie.
Ok, Kenya. I stay at this apartment with one co-worker and one woman who works for the Clinton Foundation. My work while I'm here is refugee protection. My style while I'm here is effective humanitarian worker with a good nature.
Why the name of this blog? Homi = homey (idk if that was clear). "Nairobi Wan Kanobi" was too long to write. Some people call Nairobi, "Nai-robbery," but that's a little much even for me.
some Swahili while we're at it:
"Jambo" means hello (Carol: remember that from the movie?)
"Asante San" means thank you (Caryn: remember Rafiki from the Lion King, "Asante San a squashed banana?" Well someone actually gave me a banana and so I said "Asante San"!).
"Karibu Kenya" means "welcome to Kenya" (Everybody!).
Oh yes. I'm back on the blog like I'm back on the block. The best rapper at Harvard Law is in Kenya for three months, and he intends to write somethin. Let's begin at the beginning.
I was the last person to check-in for my flight. They actually closed the ticket-counter, and opened it up only out of the goodness of their Dutch hearts (I flew KLM "Royal Dutch Airlines." Food, not bad). Mad traffic on the way to the airport, and I wouldn't have made it at all if it weren't for the extraordinary driving efforts of my father, such efforts not excluding reversing off the highway. I started watching "Eat, Pray, Love" on the plane, but lets just say the book was better than the movie.
Ok, Kenya. I stay at this apartment with one co-worker and one woman who works for the Clinton Foundation. My work while I'm here is refugee protection. My style while I'm here is effective humanitarian worker with a good nature.
Why the name of this blog? Homi = homey (idk if that was clear). "Nairobi Wan Kanobi" was too long to write. Some people call Nairobi, "Nai-robbery," but that's a little much even for me.
some Swahili while we're at it:
"Jambo" means hello (Carol: remember that from the movie?)
"Asante San" means thank you (Caryn: remember Rafiki from the Lion King, "Asante San a squashed banana?" Well someone actually gave me a banana and so I said "Asante San"!).
"Karibu Kenya" means "welcome to Kenya" (Everybody!).
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