Cross Sections and Glimpses of Kenyan life

Preface

Although not all of this blog deals with issues allied to what I say in this 'preface', I feel I have to write a little background introduction this edition. This is because the preface somehow 'qualifies' this blog, and many of the previous ones. It is something of a disclaimer for some of the earlier stuff I said ... But is also very much the canvas upon which life in Kenya is painted. It is the stuff of the struggle for daily existence that marks life in Kenya – and in Nairobi particularly – and the stuff of exactly what needs to change here: It concerns the huge disparity that exists between the Kenya ‘that is’ versus the Kenya that ‘could be’.

Through the unfettered and insatiable greed of the ‘political class’ in Kenya, the people of Kenya have been robbed of their birthrights; they lack access to healthy environments – to land and clean water - but particularly lack access to the opportunities for employment that would make Kenya somewhat different from what we see today. If the Billions and Billions of Shillings that have been stolen from the Kenyan people had gone where they should have, believe me, Kenya would be an African success story of note. The treasure trove has been raped and pillaged; blithely stolen from the people over three ‘eras’ of Kenyan governance. The people of this land have been systematically impoverished to the bone by their own leadership!

The fact of the above having happened tints – and taints – every aspect of life in Kenya; from the lack of maize meal to feed the nation, to the lack of running water, to the lack of employment opportunities, to the prostitution that is an ever-present feature of the Nairobi landscape.

The political economy has got to such a point that there is this sullen, pathetic mood that engulfs all discussions about politics. Every single (regular) person I speak to says the same thing: that this government has to GO and GO SOON. Kenyans might not want their current government but a proud and patriotic people they certainly are. Flags, stickers and shirts bearing Kenya's colours and/or flag are seen everywhere. As Brenda put it beautifully a while ago:

“I am very proud to be Kenyan but I’m not so proud of Kenya”

The Kenyan people have really had enough but essentially have no avenues of legitimate dissent with which to secure the future they want. But the good news is that since I arrived in this beautiful country there has developed a significant body of people calling for change. From everywhere they are coming. And coming fast. There’s a lot of change-talk on the go and it bodes well for the future of this nation.

There’s a new constitution in the making and the very good news is that the level of input from ordinary Kenyans was such that the rather short deadline for submissions had to be extended by some weeks. And to me at least, the political leadership is not looking quite as smug and self-satisfied as it was when I arrived. In fact, methinks, it’s looking a little unsettled.

The scene I described on Jamhuri (independence) Day – December 12 – last year would not happen now because, quite simply, there would be just so many people making a noise in the stadium that there would not enough security to (man)handle them all. Recently, President Kibaki and Prime Minister Odinga were both pelted with stones as they attempted to address a rally. They cancelled their further appearances for the day. This goes to show - demonstratively, if I may use the term - the mood that is starting to (visibly) prevail in Kenya.

Change … she is coming to Kenya. I see it everywhere. Despite increasingly weak attempts by Government at curtailing the tide, the tide is clearly rising on the dry, dark and dusty horizon that is the Kenya of old. There’s a new Uhuru (freedom) in the air. And I relish the thought of what might soon be happening here.

Kwa Malaya na Malaika (Of Prostitutes and Angels)

I have perhaps intimated such, but I haven’t actually said it so far: Prostitution is RIFE in Nairobi.

The scenario: You go out for a drink, get approached by a lovely young girl and perhaps asked to buy her a drink. You find out after a bit of chat that she’s (euphemistically) “looking for money in town”. You might also find out (if you’re bothered enough to ask) that she’s a Masters graduate from the University of Nairobi, has been unsuccessfully looking for a job since she graduated, and is a single mum with one child at home. Lacking any social support and facilities for feeding her child, she has come to rely on “fresh ones” (new arrivals to Nairobi) at Simmers, or any number of similar bars, to sleep with and make perhaps two thousand Shillings (R240) for the night (if she’s lucky).

You find these girls plying their somewhat dubious trade at every one of the multitudinous nightspots in this city. In fact, it’s pretty hard NOT to meet a working girl in greater Nairobi at night. But, because of the social situation that has created this trade, I cannot really malign these girls as 'malaya' (prostitutes). I will say there’s only one class of girl in Nairobi that I could call truly ‘malaya’: these are girls who are out-and-out prostitutes – perhaps ‘born’ to this ancient ‘profession’. They ply their trade on Koinange Street, ever watchful of the City Council truck that circles the area looking for violators of the city by-laws (but which is really looking for girls who are carrying enough cash to pay a bribe of five or six hundred Shillings – a bribe that will allow them to be released around the corner). With these girls, do what you will, but as Erica put it the other night:

“You can take the chick out of K Street, but you can’t take K Street out the chick”

These are the real ‘prostitutes’ in Nairobi – the malaya – but for the rest, many are (perhaps ‘fallen’) angels – malaika - instead. These girls are usually quite good-looking and certainly well-dressed enough to get into any of the pubs or clubs. But as Brenda put it, most of them are trying a little too hard to “look expensive”, with fake jewelry, fake gold chains, and more. Those from the slums will often overdo it A LOT with the bling (but more so with the short skirt).

Many of the fallen angels are simply looking for husbands. Yes, they will sleep with a guy for a few thousand Shillings. They might even sleep with a guy for free if he looks like a good future prospect. These girls are looking for a breadwinner to support their fragile existences and tenuous realities. They are looking for someone just to look after them financially. It happens quite a lot they these girls do, indeed, find husbands. But a friend of mine recently noted that seldom do these marriages ‘work’ beyond a month or two! The expectations of husband and wife seem to differ markedly after the wedding day!

You find many of these girls in the trendier and expensive clubs ‘uptown’. And a great many of them have found 'luck' to a certain, limited extent. They might, for example, be able to tell you about Massio from Napoli, or Frank from Bonn, who is their 'husband' but who, for some inexplicable reason, is no longer on the scene. If pressured into an explanation they will tell you “he went back to his wife" (!). There are a lot of European businessmen who “marry” Nairobi chicks and keep them as mistresses (and sometimes take them on their African travels).

But if there is a range of ‘prostitution’ to be found in Nairobi, blame not the girls … Blame this utterly corrupt government for stealing everything that should have gone to the people and enriching themselves beyond compare while leaving the people battling for their daily bread in the way that’s best suited to each!

Corruption in Every Corner

Last night on NTV - the more liberal of the TV stations - there were no less than four new items concerning the wholesale corruption that is the national government’s obsession.

There was an item saying that at least 87% of the transactions completed by the Kenyan national water company in Nairobi are fraudulent (figures by Transparency International from a 'customer survey')! The total value of the embezzlement is staggering, in the region of a few Billion Shillings. Most of the ”water corruption” concerns water supplies that are diverted away from where they are supposed to go and given rather to someone who can afford to pay the bribe (and who prefers not to pay for the water).

Then the next item is on an outbreak of cholera in Nairobi that has, in one week, claimed 81 lives. Sadly, no connection is made between the fact of water company corruption and this water-borne disease. The fact that the corruption means there is no running water, most of the time, in most of Nairobi’s slums does not get connected in the news with the fact of the cholera outbreak. And the fact of there being black pools of dirty stagnant water lying everywhere in the slums does not get connected with the fact of malaria-bearing mosquitoes raising hell (and seriously raising body temperatures) in those same slums.

Then there’s the head of the electricity company saying that he simply can’t be called corrupt “yesterday, today and every day”. I ask, why not, if you are? And so far, Billions of Shillings have gone missing from the coffers of the electricity utility in Kenya.

Then there is a fourth item, concerning the National Youth Fund and the fact that 1.5 Billion Shillings (that's like over 15 Million Dollars) is unaccounted for and there’s no paper trail to the private accounts into which the money was channeled. No wonder the youth are so lost. The total endowment to the youth fund was 2.5 Billion Shillings – so they have lost more than half of what is due for youth development projects. Of course, the money has been stolen by exactly those people entrusted with developing the youth – so what hope can one hold? Hence the comments I made a while ago about the alienation and estrangement of the youth in Kenya. More than tragic.

Then there’s a brief follow-up on a ‘typing error’ that Uhuru Kenyatta (the new Minister of Finance and son of the late Jomo) claims to be the reason for the 10 Billion Shilling discrepancy between ‘what is’ and what ‘should be’ with the Supplementary Budget. Never mind that the ‘typing error’ was seen by no less than five sets of eyes before getting to Parliament. The 'follow-up' comprises a statement from a Parliamentary Select Committee’ (very ‘select’, actually) which states, quite blandly, that it has examined the matter in detail (in one day, mind you) and is confident that no corruption has taken place. End of story.

Revelations like this (and the lack of investigation that follows) are so commonplace that the people of Kenya simply talk through the 'politics' on TV. They are left utterly sickened by what they see, unable to do anything, and frustrated to the hilt as a result. They would rather – seem almost determined to – blah blah blah through the politics than actually hear what is going on....

And, by way of an aside, it strikes me that Uhuru Kenyatta looks strikingly similar to Jeff Koinange (son of the Koinange after whom K Street is named). Jeff is a news presenter on the K24 television station. Jeff’s mom used to be Jomo Kenyatta’s personal assistant ... There's a theory that a close association between two people can make them start looking the same. But this doesn't usually apply to their kids too. Strange, but it seems to have happened this time.

Maisha Ghetto (Ghetto Life)

I have had recent occasion to travel into the heartland of one of Nairobi’s slums. Dandora is something of a Luo stronghold and houses perhaps a few hundred thousand people, in one- and two-roomed apartments, and in single room units that might hold two or three family members at a time. The housing is made of brick but such is the water and light situation in Nairobi that it might be two days before there is any water running in the place – while the electricity (stima) is often off for 3 to 6 hours at a time, on a regular basis.

Dandora is about 20kms south of Nairobi, out near Kenyatta International Airport. The trip from Dandora to town (‘tao’ as it is called) takes roughly 50 minutes when the jum is over and can take upwards of two hours when Thika Road is in a state of jum (which is every single rush hour to a greater or lesser extent. It is one of the worst routes in Nairobi).

Despite the slight sense of dusty desolation, Dandora does have a certain slum ‘charm’ about it. From the matatu terminus, walking to my friend Angela’s place, you pass a few hundred small, rickety wooden stalls, selling all types of vegetables, clothing, kitchen utensils, and the like – quite simply anything that the local economy (independent and self-supporting as it is) needs and uses. You can buy avocado pears for (ZAR) 50c, mandazi (fried breads shaped like samoosas) for about R1 and freshly cooked chapattis for the same. The streetside cooking starts at around 5am when the sky is still dark and the first commuters are making their way to the terminus (and others are coming back from the clubs).

Just like the time I spent in Khayalitsha, Cape Town, some time ago, my presence in Dandora is always something of a novelty, but, as with Khayalitsha, I get nothing but welcome greetings by all and sundry (especially the kids) who seem to know but one English expression (and aren’t always sure of what response to expect). Everywhere around me I hear:

“Howareyou … howareyou … howareyou”

I reply:

“Niko nzuri sana, na habari yako?” (I am very good, and how are you?)

Nothing but stunned faces. Maybe one voice exclaims:

"Mzungu, kusema kiSwahili!" (you speak Swahili!)

I smile, as only an mzungu in a strange land can.

There’s really not much money in Dandora and all-and-sundry come to Angela's place - at all hours of the day - asking for 10 or 20 Bob (R1.20 or R2.40) to buy a small portion of maize meal, for example, (to make ugali) to feed a child or two.

Most of the time, the water (maji) in Dandora is a trickle if it is running at all. This water is used for washing clothes, and general ablutions, but is certainly not fit for human consumption. Drinking water is brought on ‘trailers’ and sold in 25litre drums for around 50 or 60 Bob (R6-R8), depending on the seller. Angela is lucky enough to have tailoring work at a Muindi (Hindu run) sweatshop and earns a meager Ksh4000 (about R500) a month. On this she manages to live and still provide for others!

These ‘trailers’ I mention are a constant sight in Nairobi. They are two-wheeled contraptions that look something like the Durban rickshaw but carry loads a helluva lot heavier than two skinny tourists! (16 drums of water @ 25 kilos each = 400 kilograms!). Some of the trailers made from welded steel but it’s far more common in the slums to see one that resembles a makeshift stretcher - or the initial makings of an Indian funeral pyre on its way to the Ganges; long sections of straight tree branches are strapped together by bits of inner-tube rubber, barely balanced on the two car wheels (incl. tyres) that were once on someone’s car. The trailers are quite a sight, vying for bits of road with matatus, trucks and buses (and are largely given way until they are securely on the road’s verge). They carry virtually anything but in the slums are used most often to carry fresh water around the place. If you have a large load of shopping, they will carry it home for you for 10 or 20 Bob (a Rand or two).

There has been recent talk of the possibility of banning them from the streets but I can’t see this happening as it will put thousands out of work. And anyway, they provide a service for a great many Nairobians. But they CAN be a bit of a hassle on the streets when one is attempting to pass.

Football on the Broke Side of Life

Watching Kenya's "Harambee Stars" playing football against Nigeria on TV the other night was like watching "The Giants" versus "The Midgets Who Work Out". The Kenyans simply towered above the Nigerians (but Nigeria still won by 2 goals to 0). Against Mozambique’s Mambas, it was a bit more like "The Giants" versus the "Regular Guys" and this time Kenya won by 2 goals to 1. The Kenyan football team comprises something like three-quarters Luo players and the three prominent forwards are all over 1.93m tall (that's like 6ft 7in!). The guys are seriously BIG and Mozambique cottoned on to a strategy to use against them - just a little too late: they did their best to run the Luo guys down and tire them out. It didn't work - perhaps because it was too late ... But when one of the forward Harambee Stars got the ball it was like watching a power play from the History Books of Football with Big Guys. The Luo forwards just powered their way to the goal line but failed miserably to finish well - kicking the ball meters over the cross bar.

Some work is clearly needed with the football team. Another Luo pro footballer – one I met recently in Umoja ‘township’ (another Luo stronghold) - told me it has to do with the pathetic pay that the Kenyan team is getting. He said that many of the better Kenyan players are playing elsewhere. He himself is playing in Angola and is earning three times what members of the national team are earning here. When I asked him if he had what it takes to make the Harambee team, he simply smiled and told me he was playing pro for them 6 years ago (name withheld).

If there are problems in Kenyan football, this is not so for Kenyan rugby. The Kenya "Super Seven" team is playing admirably well - knocking South Africa's Sevens team for a loop, the second time in a row the other night. And lo-and-behold there was footage on TV of a women's "Sevens" rugby team the other night, powering their way to victory over some team that clearly didn't know what had hit them.

I'm not so sure about the future of Kenya in the football arena but one thing is for sure - watch what Kenya does in rugby! I think there might be some surprises to come and I see quite a few Springbok rugby jerseys around town. And it’s not South Africans wearing them! Kenyans are starting to love rugby!

Buses from Everywhere

I sit in the smoking section at Simmers around 8pm and watch the buses streaming in. From everywhere they come around this time; from "Coast", from LuoLand (Lake Victoria region) and from every small village in the greater Kenya. They time their arrival so that they miss the Greater Jum. And so on this Thursday night it seems that everyone in Kenya is on the move somewhere. These are luxury buses on the whole. Perhaps not air-conditioned any longer but certainly carrying the equipment that would have had them air-conditioned in the past. Big Volvo and Mercedes wagons streaming down Kenyatta Avenue in a seemingly endless convoy of heavy duty transport. They are on their way ‘downtown’, below River Road; to the area they call "Coast Bus", or somewhere near that. They come down the road but I don’t see any going up. Tomorrow, some time, these same buses will be seen coming up Kenyatta Avenue. This has to be the place of the greatest cross-flux of people in East Africa. Downtown, on every night of the week you will see hundreds of buses and matatus, coming from every conceivable corner of this country (as well as from Uganda, Tanzania, Ethiopia and Somalia). And somehow the vehicles give Nairobi some weird charm. On Moi Avenue, around 6pm, the light is a pink-tinted hue that is gorgeous and the streets are absolutely packed with people weaving their way around the transport-infested roads. And on the sidewalks, you see concentrated pockets of illicit hawking and haggling, selling products of every conceivable description.

Some guy, looking like Father Xmas with a knapsack on his back, will suddenly appear from nowhere and will set up a cardboard stand (with cardboard sheets that also seem to come from nowhere) and might proceed to lay out, and sell, women's shoes for around Ksh200 a pair (R24). The merchandise sells like the proverbial hotcakes but within a few minutes an imperceptible call goes out, and as quick as he set up, he, and all the other hawkers around him, are gone, disappearing into the crowd as fast as they arrived ... followed only by two City Council employees in bright yellow jackets. What happens in downtown Nairobi between 6pm and 8pm is a sight to behold and is when this city seems to come alive and thrive.

Public Service Vehicles (PSV’s)

If Johannesburg streets seem jammed with taxis and other ‘public service vehicles’ (PSV’s), the streets of Nairobi take this to a whole nutha level. The matatu is the sole means of transport for literally millions of Nairobians and greater Kenyans and these largely diesel-powered vehicles ply their trade from around 5am to around 9.30pm every day of the week. Like the minibus taxis in Cape Town, the Nairobi matatu has a ‘conductor’ who is entrusted with taking the fares from all on board. They have a way of carrying notes between their fingers that works as an African abacus and it's amazing to watch a conductor keep track of who has paid what, what change they should get, and when (which if often a lot later than the passenger is expecting, mind you). Sometimes the conductor ‘extorts’ money from passengers – like when it’s raining, or very late at night - when the hapless victims on board are asked to pay sometimes astronomical fares … The logic behind the variable fare on a matatu is that, because of the rain, for example, traffic is much slower yet there is a need to generate the same daily income (from far fewer trips). Late at night, of course, the matatu is helping you stay out of trouble ... and for this benefit you have to pay! I suppose you can’t blame them, but the variable rate takes a little getting used to.

The matatu conductor is somewhat akin to the Soweto ‘train surfer’, taking voluntary risks that anyone else would be likely to shy away from in the extreme. Three smacks to the side of a matatu means the driver must stop; while two smacks means he can go. The two smacks are often dished out to the matatu’s body while the last passenger is still embarking; leaving the conductor with the relished responsibility of running alongside the vehicle as it quickly gathers speed and swinging himself on board with amazing dexterity. I have seen that it is something of a personal accomplishment for the conductors (unseen by anyone, really) to achieve this feat at high speed while still managing to escape any loss to bodily integrity. Often the matatu will be well down the road by time the sliding door is closed. And the opening and closing of the door is the job of the conductor! This turf should not be poached.

Legislation demands that the matatu carries 14 passengers and not the 16 that is common in Jozi. It was not so long ago that the matatus were required to fit safety belts and it is still common to find a matatu with discarded belts hanging from each and every seat in the vehicle. This piece of legislation is no longer enforced (along with a great many other by-laws in Nairobi) but time was when it was stringently adhered to and prosecuted when lacking.

Matatu’s are required to run one route and one route only and this is still enforced today. All matatus will bear a legend on the side indicating the route being driven. For example, a matatu that rides Dandora to Town might show, in fancy script on the side: ‘Tao’ (meaning ‘town’) and ‘Dando’ or simply ‘D’ (meaning Dandora). It is route 42 when gong to town and route 32 when going to Dandora.

Just like in Jozi, Nairobi matatus are stopped regularly by the police. And just as it is in the City of Gold, the police here do very little to actually inspect the vehicle … Rather, their attention is directed to the 100 Shilling note that forms the permanent ‘extra page’ in the matatu driver’s license booklet.

Matatu Deluxe

CNN showed a mini-documentary on the subject of Kenyan matatus the other night. And a worthy subject it surely is, because if there is anything that rates as a contemporary cultural ‘icon’ that identifies Nairobi – and Kenya as a whole – as different from any other area in East Africa, it is the matatu.

There are two basic styles of matatu. The first is what most people call a “Nissan” (even though most of them are now Toyotas) and it is the type we are used to in South Africa. (Even the “Meru Nissan Service” that I see picking passengers downtown, in Accra Street, seems to run only diesel Toyotas!) The “Nissan” of course it is that vehicle we used to call the Zola – the minibus taxi. Most of them in Kenya are diesel vehicles.

The Nissan aside, there are then the hundreds and thousands of large Isuzu trucks that have been converted into 40-seater buses by some or other local body works. These matatus are used for the more remote routes in Kenya – and in Nairobi too – and, unlike the "Nissans", are the most amazing vehicles to behold.

The CNN documentary briefly intimated (correctly) that there is great competition between the owner-drivers of most bus-matatus. Once purchased, the buses are immediately taken to any of the numerous paint shops around town. The shops employ young, specialized airbrush artists whose job it is to decorate the bus in the fashion of the owner’s wont. As the CNN documentary amply demonstrated, the matatu is an art-form in and of itself. There are many bearing slogans and portraits of famous people – Osama, Obama and Madiba being perhaps the most popular - with a host of lesser mortals in tow, like Ice Cube, Tupac and Rihanna. Many of the buses – particularly those that ride the long haul routes – feature strings of running ‘disco-lights’outside; down the window frames and across the bumpers (in garish reds, purples, blues and greens).

The best ‘decoration’ I have seen executed on a matatu of this type was one I saw recently. It featured brand new strings of the lights - everywhere it was possible to string such lights - but also featured two wide-screen TVs. The first was mounted up-front as is the norm. But the second was mounted in the back window of the matatu, facing OUTWARDS, so that anyone driving behind could enjoy the videos being shown inside! This is certainly a new take on combating driver fatigue while surely keeping the vehicle in tow safe on the road!

The competition between matatus is fierce. Rather than catch the first available ride, many younger people will wait a few minutes until the low-frequency, omni-directional sound of the ‘Boom-Boom’ is heard. The ‘Boom-Boom’ is that matatu that has an expensive sound system - with emphasis on the sub-woofer frequencies - and is often showing a string of the latest reggae-dancehall, soul or ‘R&B’ video mixes on the monitor up-front. The creators of these pirate video mixes have cottoned on to the fact that the matatu is their greatest means of promotion and they give the latest material to the matatus for free. The VCD’s that these VJ’s produce - entirely bila (without) paying any royalties - feature all the latest club tracks and an annoyingly frequent display of the contact details of the pirate that produced the mix. Any of the mixes can be bought downtown for around 60 to 100 Shillings (R8-R12) but most will feature constant video ‘glitches’ that make viewing a little difficult at times.

Pesa Pesa Everywhere (without a dot for most)

I wasn’t registered as an M-Pesa user until I had the need to send small amounts of money (and receive same back) to various parts of Nairobi. ‘Pesa’ is Swahili for money and M-Pesa is the electronic means of money transfer that is used throughout Kenya, compliments of mobile operator, Safaricom. It is absolutely brilliant and revolutionary, to the point where Michael Joseph - a South African who heads up Safaricom - recently addressed the World Economic Forum in Cape Town on the uses and conveniences of the system. And it is really fantastic. Its one really exceptional application has been to facilitate money transfer to people in impoverished communities in remote areas where there are no banks (and never will be any). By using the local M-Pesa agent, organizations like Oxford Policy Management, via charities within Britain, have been able to save the lives of literally hundreds (if not thousands) of orphans and vulnerable children (OVC’s) in the remotest, arid and drought-stricken regions of the country.

You load pesa into your M-Pesa account (or someone else sends money to you!) and you can then send it, convert it to airtime, pay an increasing number of utility bills and private accounts, or draw it yourself whenever and wherever you like - at crazy hours and throughout the length and breadth of Kenya. If the Kenya banking system is a little antiquated and slow it takes a little use of M-Pesa to wonder why you bother to use a bank at all. For most Kenyans, the need for a bank account – and the costs associated – are drastically reduced, and literally every ten meters in Nairobi, you will find an M-Pesa agent to give you the cash you require. Quite a few of the local casinos are running the M-Pesa service 24/7, for obvious reasons. So it’s 24/7 banking, immediate money transfer and receipt, for a nominal fee, anywhere in Kenya. Quite a feat to pull off, Mr. Joseph, quite a feat indeed.

After registering, I was using the service extensively within days. I didn’t have enough cash one night to pay for a taxi (and was distinctly bila pesa). There was no working ATM in sight so I simply M-Pesa’d the balance of what I owed to Alex, the driver. He can draw the small Ksh200 payment whenever he likes. The M-Pesa service costs 25 Shillings each time (R3) a time so it’s better not to draw less than 200Shillings, else it seems you’re paying more than you’re getting (almost).

There is a daily limit on M-Pesa transactions of Ksh30 000 (nearly R4 000) to minimize the use of the service for money laundering … but with the vast majority of Kenyans scrambling around for less than 200 Shillings a day, this is hardly an issue for most (and there are not a lot of Nigerians here anyway)! The clincher for me in the M-Pesa story is that patrons at the notorious Simmer’s drinking hole have even been known to pay the waiter through M-Pesa when bila pesa and too drunk to get to an ATM.

The People in the Mix

It has been some weeks now since I met President Kibaki’s speech writer. Chain smoking in the ‘smoking zone’ of my favourite club, and wearing a suit that was very clearly Armani, or similar, he introduced himself as a ‘journalist’. Only after some haranguing by myself over exactly what type of journalist (journalist gani?) did he concede the identity of his employer. I asked him, given the state of play in Kenya currently, what did he feel about his job.

“Very privileged and honoured actually”

So, I said, “this means you are a true Company Man”

“Very definitely!” he replied.

It’s not exactly like me, but I gave up after the second response. The guy is obviously very bright but I think his naivety outshone his intellect. Just the guy for the job I guess! And as for the suit … THIS guy is obviously eating well!

Just the other night I met two of the Karua kids – also at my favourite club. For the uninitiated, Martha Karua was, until recently, Justice and Constitutional Affairs Minister and a long standing member of President Kibaki’s cabinet, but resigned over differences of opinion concerning the pace and nature of reform in Kenya. She has been widely touted as one of the next Presidential hopefuls (but, with any luck, someone younger and perhaps less tainted will beat her to it).

The kids’ security detail was left outside while the two played inside.

A daughter and one of two twin sons, they were a lot of fun (if a little obnoxious at times). He, a film-maker/director and she some kind of stage and/or dance producer (recently back from London), they engaged me on all things South African … but generally failed to hear what I had to say. What is it with the privileged class of kids in Kenya that they don’t listen to any voices but their own? This is not the first time it has happened to me in conversation with members of 'the elite' here.

She (name forgotten) was pretty “high” (as they put alcohol inebriation in Nairobese) but gave us a little taste of what her vocal chords are capable of. She did a drunken take on a few Miriam Makeba songs, doing a rendition of Miriam Makeba’s “Malaika” (in Swahili) that was nothing short of spectacular (even given the missing lyrics). She’s one big chick and can sing, with a large, wide mouth that the best US gospel singers would be proud of. She actually looks quite a bit like her mum (but not so for the brother).

While we were sitting chatting, shouting and screaming in the smoking zone, I landed up chatting to a young man dressed in the latest hip-hop gear. I had seen him at the club some days before and had been quite impressed by his 'style' (whatever that means!). We got talking and it turned out he ("M-Zee", or something like that) is a recorded Tanzanian bongo/hip-hop/rap artist looking for a video producer in Kenya. Of course, having just met the director to my right hand side, I "hooked them up"...

The best part was watching M-Zee talking 'pure' Swahili to the Director, while the latter squinted purposefully, with every intention of understanding what the hell the young guy was saying! A lot of the conversation had to be repeated by M-Zee so he could make himself understood. But what a beautiful speaking voice the youngster has ... Later, I heard that they have indeed made a plan to get some shooting done!

But, with the K-Kids, I eventually got tired of being asked something and then having to fight over the next sentence to get a reply in … So I left them later, as they danced to the extended-play Michael Jackson tunes on the Madhouse floor. They were having a lot of fun.

The last person of note that I have met recently is Hasua. Hasua is mSwahili asili (an original Swahili) from Mombasa who lives in Old Town, the stone-masoned residential relic of Mombasa that dates from the 11th Century. She’s a Muslim who, on her home turf, is seen wearing only the traditional; black, replete with burka at times ... Or so she tells me, because when I met her she was wearing a very low cut black top, earrings in every conceivable place on her ears and nose, and a pair of tight-fitting, really funky jeans (her Nairobi attire!). She speaks fluent Arabic and ‘pure’ Swahili that many Nairobese have trouble understanding fully. Walking in town with her is an interesting experience because there's a weird kind of reverence for the Swahili. She stands out in her skin tone and her heavy-lidded Arabic eyes. Nairobians stare, just a little. And one of the bouncers at Madhouse, upon seeing us walking together, took me aside and quite earnestly said:

"Now, this one you must look after ... mSwahili are special people of our Nation"

(I told him we were only good friends)

And she has the most amazing story …

Her husband went to Ireland for reasons unbeknown to anyone. After spending a month or two there he was brutally stabbed to death by a woman and her two daughters, in some kind of devious plot where they lured him to his death. The three women all got convicted. The 'mother' is 55 yeas old and got only a few years in prison, while the first daughter got 15 years and the second daughter got Life!

Even before she told me, I had an image of Truman Capote's “In Cold Blood” in my mind. Then Hasua said that the story is the subject of a book already and that film rights are currently being sought. She was asked to submit family photographs to the book’s author but Hasua said that without any offer of money she was not prepared to help the author. She still wants to sell her own side of the story (perhaps with parts untold to me) but meantime she is waiting patiently for a rather good compensatory payout from the Irish authorities (and being enabled through Interpol and the British Embassy in Nairobi - the reason she was here!).

End Bit

With this last bit of seemingly fictional truth, or truth more startling than fiction, I come to the end of this rather lengthy ramble. There’s so much more I have to say, really ...

I mean, I could talk about the diversity of this country's population and the jet-black beauty of the Luo chicks that you see in town, walking down the street like it's a catwalk. I could talk about the stereotypes of all the tribes that seem, time and again, to prove themselves at least partly correct. I could talk more about a nation that's on the brink of being re-birthed.

... but I guess it will have to wait until all of you out there have a few extra hours to waste.


To all and sundry, as always, amani na mapenzi (sana)

B-)