The fully Kenyan experience

Nearly three decades ago, my ‘ex’ gave me a kikoi of hers. Beating all odds, the kikoi has managed to stay with me, through many phases of life. It has narrowly escaped battery acid, and consistently avoided oil paint. It has been prey only to one blotch of indelible marking ink (plus there’s a tear I need to fix). It is now monochromatic pink with one dark stripe.

It’s something I always take when I go on holiday. It works well as a wrap, as a towel, and as a sun resistant screen for my bald/ing head .  So, of course, it followed me to Mombasa.

As is my wont, I wrapped the kikoi round my voluminous frame before heading for the beach. Replete with Hawaiian shirt (but no sunglasses), I started the long stroll from Yama’s side of Mombasa beach towards the main bathing area (Kenyatta Beach, or Pirate Beach).

Not a thought was given to the fact that the kikoi had originally come from Kenya three decades ago (and it shows)!

So there I was, minding my own business, strolling ever so slowly down the steadily-narrowing beach … (the tidal effect is very marked in Mombasa).

The first thing I noticed was that I was NOT being approached by any of the curio vendors, and sellers of miscellaneous tourist gear, that line the beach. If nothing else, there was a nod. But the second thing I noticed – I couldn’t avoid it – were the calls that were coming at me from everywhere.

“Mambo, rafiki …”

“Sema?”

“Sasa?”

“Habari yako, baba ….?”

Even

“Niaje?”

(The last being the most informal greeting of the lot and not often accorded a man of my advanced years!).

I realized to my dismay that I was being taken as Kenyan - despite my colour - simply because of an old faded kikoi. Somewhat mistakenly, there was the notion that here was (mzungu!) ‘one of us’.  And that I replied in Kiswahili simply cemented the illusion. 

The looks that traced their way behind me - almost every time - were looking for the “Point-Tee”, the child of mixed race (a “.5” or “Pointy”), that was supposed to be following me …

The Kalenjin kikoi seller immediately asked me the whereabouts of my “Kenyan wife”. The beautiful Kikuyu model-wife asked if I lived in Nairobi. I talked with the (rather good) Kamba painter about local careers in art.  The Swahili fisherman wanted to sell me live King prawns “to cook at home”. The (probably) Luhya beach massage “therapist” …   she just nodded and smiled …   (there are ‘massage huts’ that line the beach every 500m or so).

The kids mostly greeted me with …  “MZuuuuuuuuuuuN … GU!”

But there was rapturous laughter, and much falling about, when I replied along the lines of

“Sasa, nini mbaya na wewe?!” (so now, what’s wrong with you?!).

Wherever I went, the banter was amazing. I smiled, as only an mzungu in a strange land can. Broadly. The entire 7.5 km experience was quite amazing.

I mention all this just to say one thing: If you escape the “hustle” that is so much a part of this economically-disenabled country, you find a ‘soul’ or ‘spirit’ (‘roho’ or ‘pepo’  in Kiswahili) inside of Kenya ‘s people that is very beautiful. There is a warmth (just see the smiles) among all the Kenyans I encounter.  A joy. An ability to laugh at circumstance, and themselves.

And if I could be so accepted and respected, wholly and completely, by the regular folk on the beach …  because I was simply wearing a national fabric and I spoke a little Kiswahili  …  Just imagine ….

If anything, this hints at something I feel quite strongly:  That Kenya must ignore the bogey that’s called ‘tribalism’. Kenyans are proud of their diverse nationhood. And they readily embrace other Kenyans, whoever they might be, or wherever from. I’ve seen it in action many, many times, expressed through the (shared) medium of Kiswahili. And I experienced it ‘live’ myself.

If tribalism in Kenya doesn’t show its face ‘on the street’ (and certainly not ‘on the beach’), why should it show anywhere else? Unless, of course, it’s a notion that is manufactured, and ‘used’, by the political elite … as I have said before, for their own nefarious ends … 

In some senses, it is exactly the love, forgiveness, and broad tolerance of humanity that’s holding mwananchi (the citizens, the nation) of Kenya back from true freedom!   But rather this than something else. But ‘something else’ just seems SO remote in this land of love and essential unity. 

Basically, the post-election violence was something planned in advance by those same people I mention above, for those same nefarious ends.  

Don’t anyone be fooled; that’s not Kenya! 

Certainly not the Kenya I come to know …

As always, amani na upendo,

B-)

Dignitaries and fashion 'dignity'?

There’s quite a lot I could write about the recent departure of Kofi Annan and Graca Machel from the shores of Kenya. I could write about misguided faith in the judiciary. I could write about their level-headedness while the nation is screaming. I could write about the truth behind petty politicking for powerful positions. I could write about the fact that the nation is NOT divided at all; the divisions are created by the politicians for their own miserable ends. And so on, and so on.

But I am not going to write about any of this. It is too frustrating and almost brings tears to my eyes. A nation flounders while the rich drown in the fruits that belong to the people.

Instead, I am going to write (very briefly) about something that has just come to my attention ... through something said on Capital FM. It is vitally important to the future of this country:

The woman of Kenya need to get some dress-sense beyond the straight-laced grey, brown and black suits that they wear every day to work. Why is it that a nation of such beautiful women land up wearing such dreadfully dreary clothes to work? The point was noted on the radio and suddenly I was hit, like the proverbial bolt from the sky.

“That’s it”, I thought. “That’s why, despite all these beautiful women, everything looks so dull on the streets”.

As I have noted before, it happens at least once a day that I am struck by some woman’s beauty on the street. And Kenyan women know they have pride of place in the African beauty stakes, for sure. But why do they all dress so conservatively? I know it’s a church-going nation, for sure. But, hey, Jesus never said you can’t wear a bit of colour in your cloth …!

Sheesh. It has taken me an absolute age to realize the absolute dreariness of the fashions here. I am amazed I didn’t see it before. I must have been blinded by the ‘order of things’ in Kenya, and perhaps by the facial beauty of so many that live in this incredible country.

I mean, God populated Kenya with 42 tribes in a very particular way. Here are a few of his preferred choices:

He put the Kikuyu here to run things, and to make sure business boomed (despite the greed of the leadership).

He put the Luhya (and gave them a surly disposition) to work mainly in the police force. Never smiling, always seemingly miserable, they keep order on the roads particularly.

Then He put the Maasai to look after the cattle and goats (and also to prevent unwanted visitors at your home). And He thought the little colour they give the place would help (in the face of dreary fashion sense).

He put the Kamba here to look after the inside of your house and the garden. He also put some of them here to spread a little ju-ju when things get a bit too materialistic!

He put the Kisii here just to upset things every now and then with a temper tantrum. To help them he put the Meru – just in case anyone gets too big for their boots (the Meru arrogance usually sorts it).

He put the original Swahilis here just to smile on, benignly and knowingly (and to chew a lot of the miraa).

Then, finally, he dragged the Luo from the Nile basin and put the men here to buy the shiny suits and drive the Hummers (even when there’s no food at home). He even put one of them here so he could become president of the United States.

Then, in one of His last decisions, He put the Luo women here to keep the place looking goooooooood when all else fails.

He in His infinite wisdom.

If South Africa is the Rainbow Nation then Kenya is the Kaleidoscope.

What a beautiful country. Wild, for sure.

Beautiful people (lakini, kwanini hakuna fashion sense?).

But a fantastic place it is. I love it ...!

With that, amani na mapenzi to all.

B-)