"...should be good."

That's what the text message says. The Kenyan Premier League kicks off this weekend and I've been invited to watch Nairobi City Stars vs Mathare United at Amboseli ground this Sunday at 3pm.

Last year I went to the first game of the season. Remembering that day never ceases to bring a smile to my face.  Here's the account of the day from a friend I went with: http://godisintheslums.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-predict-riot.html.

Enjoy!

What do you get if you accidentally take a gecko to Britain in your suitcase?

Answer: You get the RSPCA to come and collect the little tyke and pop it on the next flight back.

This was Tom's experience on leaving Nairobi (Tom being my younger brother). It seems that the gecko that was living amongst my socks thought his suitcase was a suitable second home. So, on Tom's arrival home to Britain, he opened the suitcase to unpack, and off scampered the gecko to find somewhere to hide. After a few days he was finally caught.

He stayed in the UK for three weeks, during which time he experienced one of the coldest winters on record. He's a young gecko - very small. If fact, you'd be able to see his heart when he's on a window with the sunlight coming through from outside. I'm not sure he ate much during his time in the UK. I half suggested that my parents should bring in the old Christmas tree from outside so all the green aphids living there will think it's spring and wake themselves and the gecko could have a feasting.

But before this point was reached, and before 'Jeff' had the chance to die, the RSPCA came, collected him and popped him on a plane to Mombasa on the Kenyan coast. I'll always be left wondering what the baggage handler at Mombasa airport must have made of this gecko in a box and perhaps a set of instructions on release - they die every day here in Kenya and are two-a-penny.

I'm not sure what the moral of the story is - maybe it's animal rights gone mad.

Oh and by way of note - consider typing in 'gecko' 'German' and 'pants' into Google and see what comes up :o)

Tuesday 23rd December 2008

Seeing that I mentioned December 2008 in my last post, I thought the photo below may interest you. It's of a petrol tanker that has two minutes before caught fire while unloading fuel at a filling station. There were no serious injuries or fatalities. Unfortunately for me and my passenger we decided to scrap our visit to the giraffes, as though we may have been able to creep past the immense and occasionally exploding fire, it would have taken vastly longer on the return journey. (The photo was taken just as we have crossed the central reservation to return to town). Though much of the petrol station melted and burnt, it was not more than a few months before it was rebuilt.

Mulled thoughts on christmas

It’s Sunday evening. This weekend has been good. The last of the regular friends arrived back in Nairobi and everything feels relatively normal. Yesterday was chilled – a Kenyan friend came over in the morning and we cooked up a fried breakfast. I went shopping for greeting cards over at Yaya Shopping Centre – most cards in Kenya are imported from Britain and feature canal boats or sports cards. At Yaya, they have some that are locally made. I spent the afternoon in the new office building where I sought to put some substance on my plans to visit Britain later in the year. Chiefly in my mind were two questions: firstly, how long should I return for; and secondly, would it work logistically for me to visit somewhere else as part of the return journey. After several hours of searching and double checking, I think a plan has emerged, and so I’ll now go away and discuss and pray it through.

Anyway, what I wanted to write about today is Christmas in Kenya. Among those my age, we joke every November that Christmas doesn’t begin until you see a Coca Cola billboard of Santa or hear the ‘holidays are coming’ refrain. This year Christmas began for me while driving towards ‘Junction’ – there in front of me was a billboard sixty feet wide and thirty foot high, in which Santa was reclining while drinking a Coke. Nairobi is not as warm as many parts of Africa, but as ever Santa was there with his thick red coat.

The previous Christmas – my first in Kenya – I remember being intrigued that Santa could be Kenyan. My British conditioning says that Santa is white and either Scandinavian or British (possibly from Yorkshire). Is the ‘spell’ of Santa over children broken if he is a Kenyan wearing a white beard? I don’t know.

Christmas in Britain is deeply connected with all of my senses – the pricking of the Christmas tree on my fingers as we carry it into the house. The tastes and smells of mulled wine, turkey, Cranberry Sauce and alike. The claustrophobia of having far too many relatives and family members in one house. The oppressive heat of a log fire and the winter chill outside.

In Kenya, much of this is stripped away. My senses were thankfully appeased early in December when Tom (my brother) and I were invited round to a colleague’s house for mulled wine, apple cider and ‘A Christmas Carol’ – the 1970 musical version rather than the Muppets’.

I spent Christmas Day with my brother in Nairobi. The day’s before and Christmas Day itself had particularly unique flavour to them. The evening of Wednesday 23rd brought a storm through Nairobi, and unusually this one included about fifteen minutes of strong gusting wind. Tom and myself were at my house at the time – we had just conquered the roads from Westgate Mall back to my house in driving rain - by utilising every back street and with a little bit of good luck in leaving Westgate just before the storm hit we had been spared the traffic chaos and were feeling very pleased with ourselves. Around our neighbourhood, many trees were felled onto power lines and across roads, roofs and billboards toppled and neighbourhoods flooded. It was 48 hours until our power was restored.

Seeing as we had just bought some frozen turkey, and the oven was electric, Christmas therefore happened at a house in the compound next door which is used by visitors who come to Nairobi. Some of the houses had regained some power so we were hoping to find the house fully functioning. This was not quite the case – the house was experiencing a ‘brown out’ meaning the voltage was low. There were only enough volts to make the TV and the Playstation 3 function – result! We were also surprised to discover that the oven was in fact gas rather than electric – Christmas was back on schedule. We had a wonderful feast of turkey, roast potatoes, carrots, leaks, stuffing, ‘pigs in blankets’ and gravy. The food worked better than I could possibly have imagined. And while the power weakened through the morning, we were still able to listen to music and watch some DVDs off the computer.
Seeing as we were in Nairobi, on the Sunday after Christmas we made our way to church. After the service I struggled to know what to say to many of the Kenyans and Sudanese ‘refugees’ (most of the Sudanese have been in Kenya for 10 or more years now):

Me: How was your Christmas?
Them: Fine
Me: Did you have any special food to celebrate? [many Kenyans will cook Chicken and chapati, and for them it is for this reason the best day of the year.]
Them: I didn’t have money for special food.
Me: Oh, I thought you may have saved up some money. Er... I hope Christmas still felt special to you…
Them: [Awkward pause]
Not the greatest of conversations.

So that’s Christmas for another year. Hopefully next year I’ll finally get Christmas cards sent to everyone, rather than just the emergency ones to the family and a few friends. I’m thankful for the opportunity to really savour Christmas this year. I feel like it truly was Christmas and so now I’m hoping Easter will be equally memorable and special.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!!!

It's been a while since I last wrote. December was pleasantly hijacked by my brother visiting, And as I have now finished my January newsletter, I hope to be able to find time to share again soon - my mind is fizzing with various ideas.

I'll write again soon!

Anyone for a fiendish 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle?

Here's the jacaranda tree that's beside my apartment. The garden it overhangs looks like it's had a flurry of purple snow blow through. The next road up from mine is lined with jacarandas on each side. After two months of flowering, I had expected the colours to diminish, but thanks to regular rains they just keep going. Awesome.

What does your phone say about you?

At the moment I'm considering buying a new phone. My old one is is still fine but expensive to run. "How so?" I hear you ask. Well, calling between networks is pricey, and even a few seconds of conversation can decimate my phone credit. This means the quality of my friendships with people on other networks is not what it should be. One possible answer is to buy a phone which can run two SIM cards at once - one for each of the two main Kenyan operators.

But which phone to go for? Most dual SIM phones are made my companies without any reputation. Nokia sadly don't do dual SIM phones so I've been looking at Samsung. The two phones above are what the choice is between.

Do I want the slightly smaller, lighter phone styled in plastic with the lime green screen accents on the left? Or do I want to pay £5 more for the phone with slightly bigger, flashier, but with worse battery life shown on the right? I strikes me that my decision says a lot about me as a person, and what is intriguing on this occasion is that the 'cheaper' looking phone is almost the same price.

Hmmmm... what to do...?

October: This is the month that was

It’s Sunday afternoon. Nothing planned until Monday, a chance to be a touch reflective, and a chance to blog on the past month.

Germany: Loved it. Germany is one of my favourite places. I haven’t been to all too many cities, but if I was to choose my favourite I would go for Stuttgart. And if choosing a smaller place to live, I would go for Holzhausen where our meetings took place. Maybe it’s the autumn drizzle, maybe the rolling hills coated in evergreen. The meetings themselves were rewarding and I left feeling like I was saying goodbye to many of the participants as friends as well as colleagues. This year was extra special with the opportunity to meet up with Yuliya who I trained with three years ago. It’s hard to find a way to meet with friends who live on the far side of the world and so we made the most of chatting and drinking tea together.

Britain: On this trip, as on previous ones, I was reminded how quiet and undramatic Britain can be. When away from the UK, I think I develop a sort of ‘Daily Mail’ outlook on the country – remembering all the little details that unsettle me rather than the huge swathes of UK life I enjoy.

Looking back, the UK was a useful break, and a rest. But at the time I felt mildly ‘burnt-out’ from Nairobi life and the preparation for the meetings in Germany. Working out how to rest and yet reconnect with friends (many of whom work in the weeks) was an intractable conundrum. I left the UK feeling disappointed with myself for not making more of the time, and disappointed with myself for wearing my lack of rest so visibly. The second week was the highlight. Renting a car and driving with Tom – my younger brother – to Shropshire to visit grandparents, walk the Long Mynd hills and find a sleepy village with a pub or two.

Kenya: Saying goodbye to my family for the return to Kenya was not quite so easy as last time. I was convinced that I wasn’t ready to return. The antidote for this is to have a seat free next to you on the plane so you can spread out, a very friendly Kenyan woman in front of you in the immigration queue whose a Christian and on hearing about your work wants me to meet her husband once you’ve got through arrives; and thirdly, a giraffe by the road as you exit the airport.

I’ve felt rather at peace this first week back. This is in spite of hearing on Sunday morning that Job’s wife Esther had passed away on the Friday morning because of her cancer (http://andysweet.blogspot.com/2009/07/job-and-his-family.html). And in spite of the challenges with A travelling upcountry to seek to bring his daughter of 5-years back to Nairobi. It was great to have them ring my doorbell at 7:40 this Sunday morning, and have his daughter laughing at my unkempt look, having just emerged from the shower. It was great to see them both so ‘excited’ in A’s own words.

So that was October. I'm hardly sure how to sum it up. I wonder what Novermber will turn out to be like...

How do you help someone who has nothing?

This is the question I got to ask myself today (Saturday 19^th). While walking to Nakumatt (the supermarket) my attention was caught by the woman ahead of me who crossed to the other side of the road. It was an odd place at which to cross. As my eyes returned to the path ahead, I see a crumpled figure – a woman – with her child tied on her back as women do here.

The first thought that came to mind was the story of the good Samaritan, and also the song from school with the words “would you walk by on the other side…”

I’ve nothing on me except a Visa card and so I do walk past. I try to gauge if she’s been crying, if she has any energy to help herself and her child. I carry on my way to the bank and then the supermarket.

Walking the isles I’m thinking “what does she need today, at this moment?” In Kenya, maize flour is the staple ingredient – it’s not so expensive but it what she could make the most amount of food from. But does she have a place to cook it? Is she living on the street?

I settle on a bottle of Coke (what Kenyan doesn’t like Coke) and a good sized packet of peanuts – thinking that the child was not so young.

Walking back up the hill from Nakumatt, I’m sort of hoping she’s not there as that means she’s not in such a bad shape. At the same time, I want to be able to give her the Coke and peanuts as I don’t want to go home and enjoy them myself. Looking at the bend coming up, I see her still there. I wait for two slow walking security guards to pass her and then I start my approach.

“Habari.” See looks up. In the awkwardness of the moment I’m already in my shopping grabbing the peanuts and the Coke. “I saw you here on my way to the shops and I thought you might like these.” “Do you have a nyumbani (a home)?” She shakes her head in a ‘no’ sort of way. “I pray that you may be able to find somewhere to sleep tonight.” I make eye contact with the child on her back and say “Sasa!” The child smiles. I’m disappointed to see that the child is younger than I had thought. I hope the peanuts aren’t too much of a problem for him.

As I begin to walk off, I pass the two security guards who are standing, talking to a third. “What’s up with her?” they ask. I tell them she was there earlier and so I thought I’d just chat with her. With pleasantries exchanged, I turn into my road and home.

Since writing this, I have been reminded through a friend's blog that things aren't always so different in Britain: http://onlybestrongandcourageous.blogspot.com/2009/09/blinkered.html