I finally arrived in Nairobi, after 29 hours, most of it flying time. I thought I was going to go nuts confined to the space of an airplane at 35,000 ft. I was actually on an airplane for 19.5 hours. But alas, I arrived and I think we just about raced off the runway because we came to a very abrupt halt, a complete stop, in the middle of the runway. I’ve never actually experienced that before. I don’t’ know, maybe the aircraft just needed more runway; it was a 747 with a full load. I saw one vacant seat.
Anyway, I got through customs easy enough. They didn’t even glance at the forms I completed. Just took my fifty bucks, stamped the passport and off I went. My luggage was some of the last to come out which caused me a little concern for a while there. Fortunately, the guy next to me was friendly and we chatted about his annual trip to Kenya to visit family. Apparently he lives in Toronto now. I’m pretty sure he was a political refugee from Uganda, or his dad was. He was just a kid during all the nastiness. (For those of you that don’t know, rent The Last King of Scotland for a Hollywood version that is quite good.) Anyway, he brings his kids every year to visit his wife’s family, who is Kenyan. Dad, he works in a tool factory making molds. You would have loved to talk with him.
Finally the luggage came and I found my driver and I landed in a guest house. This guest house is clean yet very Kenyan. It is actually not unlike a B&B. Seriously, they have floral bedspreads and lace bed skirts and little sitting rooms for people to hang out in and watch TV or read or whatever. They serve a nice breakfast. No kidding. They even have wheat bread and Bear, they will fix your eggs any way you desire. No arguing about the fried vs. scrambled thing. They have a toaster and real coffee. Yes, real coffee. How the times have changed.
Even though it was late I was sure the guest house was somewhere near the YaYa Center. It was all so familiar. Sure enough, it’s next door and the office is next door to that. That makes everything rather convenient. I haven’t been to the Mercy Corps guest house (flats they have) but I hear it has a pool.
So, I’m back in familiar territory and pretty happy about it. I also Skyped with Salamah today, old Peace Corps friend who I am looking forward to seeing soon, I hope. She is living in Kampala and one way or another; I hope our paths cross soon. I also located a friend who is in South Africa and we Skyped too. It was a big day!
You know you have landed in a developing country when certain things happen. The first night, in my dazed and confused stupor, I managed to find the hot water button (in large part because it was impossible to miss) and thought a shower would be very desirable. Now, some of you have experienced this, I have no doubt. A shower head comes out of the ceiling so water pours directly on top of your head. For those of us that don’t wash our hair everyday, this is an issues, but that wasn’t’ so much the problem. I was, in fact, washing my hair because of the traveling. Moving on, the issue really had to do with the curtain that hung from a rod.
The rod protrudes from the wall next to the sink about 2 ½ feet, curves around for about 3 feet, and then curves back into the wall on the toilet side. Presumably they installed this curtain to spare the sink and toilet from a good soaking while one bathes. Well, and also to keep from flooding the room apparently.
The curtain, however, is so close to the shower stream that it suctions itself to your body if it is in fact pulled around the rod as was intended. I, being a little squeamish about such things, don’t want the curtain touching me. It could use a little washing itself. So, in my infinite wisdom, I left the curtain pulled to one side, protecting the toilet because I also prefer to have a dry seat when it’s needed. Thinking that any carpenter with sense would ensure that the tile floor sloped towards the drain, I thought nothing of it.
But alas, the floor didn’t really slope at all and when I emerged from my shower, and stepped down into my room (yes, there is a large step up into the bathroom), there was a pond in the room and the area rug was my own personal marshland. Yes, I thought, I am in Kenya again. How could I have been so remiss in my thinking that the floor would actually slope in the proper direction?
The next morning I was again reminded of my assumptions. As I leaned over the sink to rinse the sleep from my eyes, I slammed into a glass shelf that hung over the sink. The sink, being very small, was directly under a nice glass shelf (something like on might find in a nice little B&B) that was inordinately large considering the size of the sink. Except for spitting (you know, toothpaste) there is no way to actually wash and keep the water in the sink. I have to hang my head over the side of the sink to avoid bruising my forehead yet again, leaving the water to splash to the floor.
It’s not the particular things that I remember so well but the copying of western things gone amiss that I remember. It’s such a common phenomenon and it boggles the mind. There is a part of me that truly understands the logic but that logic conflicts so completely with my logic it is still hard to comprehend. Now I find it laughable. In a few months it will drive me nuts.
Work is overwhelming. There is SO much to learn. Tomorrow, for instance, I have a meeting with finance, procurement and HR all before noon. These meetings are just to get a basic idea about what I have to do in order to keep my office up and running. They have nothing to do with the actual program which I am trying to grapple with. That alone is overwhelming. And then there are the politics with the staff and within the country. I could go on and on about this stuff but you would likely be just as confused as I am. I’m on that steep learning curve, in 6 months, ask me again.
Earplugs. I now remember why I began using them and how effective they can be. This is one noisy place. How did I ever survive without them? The guys down a floor or two cook late at night. They just came in and they are going on and on about whatever. I can hear them preparing food and talking loudly. It’s 10:20 PM and I can barely keep my eyes open. Again, thank goodness for earplugs. This bed isn’t bad except for the big dip in the middle and the pillows are fantastic! Some things have changed.
I met this woman Cecilia; she is a professor at UC Irvine. She wants to interview me tomorrow. She’s doing some kind of research about humanitarian aid and religion or some such thing. I didn’t quite catch it all. Could be interesting.
After Sri Lanka, I am finding Nairobi to be very expensive. I spent $26 on Tinidizole and Amoxicilin. In Sri Lanka, it would have been $3. Then I bought a towel, a notebook, a bottle of Scotch, a bag of coffee (yes, the real thing), and 6 AA batteries; $30. I forgot how expensive it is here. Fortunately, there is nothing to buy in Sudan. I will complete some paperwork tomorrow that states how much I want to be paid in Sudan and how much will be deposited to my bank. Veena suggested, on the high end so when I’m in Juba or Yei I can eat and drink well, that I take $300 month. I could be frugal and take $100 month; she said it would be no problem to live off of that. Thank goodness I brought all those granola bars. I’ll spend $100 month on granola bars and candy to schlep into Sudan so I can survive because there isn’t anything there! Rice, lentils, and Coke. Ugh…
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