Weekend With Blair

Greetings once again.

First things first, many congratulations to the RedSox, who clinched the world series a little more than two hours ago. Thanks to Emily and my mom for the text-message updates. I'd also like to send some congratulations to the Patriots for being frickin' sweet.

My first few days in Kenya were only possible because of the generous help of a few good friends, namely Professor John Githaiga of Nairobi, and Blair Moorhead of North Dakota, both of whom I met at Princeton. So you can imagine how thrilled I was when Blair accepted my invitation to come spend a weekend in Nakuru so that I could return her hospitality (and get a second American opinion on the many cultural idiosyncrasies I have been observing.)

She arrived late in the morning on Saturday, and after the long and bumpy ride, I offered to take her to Mama Njeri's, the tremendously Kenyan little restaurant where I eat most of my meals in town. Situated in a corner of a mid-sized autoshop/patch-of-dirt-with-broken-cars, Mama Njeri's features 5 indoor picnic tables, a cooler of soda, an ancient television, and a variety of local fare in the $0.15-$0.45 per-meal price range. That being said, I love the place much like I love Phil's back home. And Blair was also a big fan, much to the surprise of the locals, to whom the site of two wazungu (the plural of mzungu) in Mama Njeri's was almost too outrageous to handle.

After lunch, we headed to the theater where we met up with a few group members, including 21-year old Agik, an avid linguist (he fluently speaks 5 languages - English, Swahili, Luo, Kikuyu, and French) who is also one of the more gifted actors in REPACTED. He and Blair (who double-majored in French and Psychology, and is just starting to learn Swahili) immediately hit it off, and before long we were all teaching each other common words and phrases in Swahili, French, and my limited Spanish. It was good time, interrupted only by the beginning of the second day of the Nakuru Regional finals of the Kenyan National Cultural Festival, an annual event that pits performers of every nature against their peers, ultimately leading to the crowning of champions in Nairobi every November. (Odu, the co-leader of REPACTED, is the current reigning national champion in story-telling. He'll be competing in the finals again this fall.) When we heard the event begin, we moved up into the performance hall to catch a glimpse of the activities. After sitting through an inspired (but not too impressive) one-man drumming/singing/harmonica band and a less-than-thrilling improvised drum-circle, we were treated to a few really remarkable performances. A chorus of 25 middle-aged women dressed in their brightest traditional clothes sang several religious pieces in Luo and Swahili, dancing and clapping to the beat of three young men on the drums. There was also a comedy piece feautring a young man in a bright red conductor's outfit "air-directing" an imagined orchestra as a tape recording played. It was an interesting interpretation of the art of conducting, and the performer was the recipient of much applause when the song concluded.

Blair and I were about to leave at this point to see more of the city when the emcee of the event noticed us sitting in the audience. As the only wazungu in attendance, we were promptly introduced as celebrities, and asked to rise and wave. It was horribly awkward. We decided to wait another piece or two before exiting. Ironically enough, this also proved to be a mistake. A bit later, we were sneaking out the back door while the emcee made another round of introductions, this time of local playwrights in attendance. One happened to be sitting right near the back, and we happened to be situated right in front of him as the entire audience turned to offer their applause. Oops.

We walked around the city a good bit more that afternoon, seeing the local produce market, strolling several parks, and being hassled by more than a few hawkers (the name for the aggressive street merchants lining every avenue and lane). Agik was a perfect tour guide, and by the time we met up with Odu and Karongo for a late snack, we had seen most all of the city. Because Blair is a vegetarian, we stopped into the only Veg-friendly restaurant in town, sampled a variety of interesting and satisfying Kenyan Veggie dishes, and eventually made our way to the matatu stand feeling quite content. Taxis, while much more convenient, are also maddeningly frustrating to use. You have to negotiate the price of everything in this country, and when Taxi drivers see an mzungu, the price immediately jumps several hundred shillings (65 shillings to the dollar). It's often easier to take the cheaper and slower matatus, where the price is more-or-less fixed.

Back at home we had a wonderful traditional meal made of smashed cooking bananas (less sugay and firmer than the popular "sweet" banana), corn, and beans, all with chapati and chai. We laughed under our breath at the popular poorly-dubbed Spanish and Filipino soap-operas, the popular poorly choreographed American wrestling, and the popular poorly-produced Kenyan sitcoms. Although we were busy playing the role of cultural-elitists, I think we both would have readily acknowledged the hospitality of our hosts as one of the many the strengths of the Kenyan people. Television programming aside, these are wonderful folks.

The next morning we were talking about religion with my host father, who's secret ambitions of converting me to born-again Christianity accidentally slipped out when he proclaimed that "There will be much rejoicing in heaven when we win Christopher's soul." Although I suspect that Blair was initially somewhat horrified at his lack of discretion (I was equally taken aback), he certainly meant well, and once again confirmed that Kenyans in general are not afraid of talking about other people's business. Religion, politics, and even weight gain and loss are free topics of discussion in this culture. Oh well.

The matatu into town provided a little more amusement by playing "Let's Hear It For the Boy" from Footloose, and a few other unexpected American offerings. We went up to the Menegai crater (Have I mentioned that yet?), took a Boda-Boda ride around town (the back-seat bicycle rides), and enjoyed Agik's culinary skills (he brought some homemade fried dough called mandazi) before Blair had to once again hop on a matatu back to Nairobi.

It was a much-appreciated diversion from my daily life here, and a good reminder of the fun of having someone around to share cultural anachronisms. It made me that much more excited for when my father comes to visit at the end of next month.

Alright, I've been here too long already, but I'll talk to you all again tomorrow.
Thanks for reading,
Chris