Mombasa, Kenya

12/10/01

Jambo! This means something like Hello in Swahili. That is the only swahili I know except maybe for missouri-san which means Very Nice.

I arrived here last week Friday. Grabbed the first bus out of Nairobi at 10am, expecting to get to Mombasa and rendezvous with my friend Stocco a few hours later. Unfortunately, my bus was 3 hours late. Finally arriving at 7pm. 9 hours on a bumpy, hot bus.

Being the smart guy I am, I sent Stocco a note from the airport Monday morning - "I am here and am on my way to Mombasa"

Well, he got to Mombasa on Friday as well, checked his mail and saw a message from me, dated on Thursday, saying I was in Kenya and on my way to Mombasa. He spent all day Friday walking around looking for me in Mombasa. Problem here: Friday morning at 8am is somehow Thursday evening in California, where the officical time and date of my email is from.

So I arrived, waited as the bus station for Stocco, and finally arranged a hotel. Checked my email at 8:30 and there is a message from Stocco. "Newman! My friends and I are going to Cheers and then to Tembo - meet us there. Take a matatu"

Well, hot diggity dog. I wasn't going to let this one get by - I HAD to find him. I spent 9 hours on this bus, and every other thought was, "Boy, I can't wait to get off this bus and see Stocco standing there waiting for me"

But he wasn't there. So I had to find him. It was my goal for the day. Unfortunately, I am in a foreign country and have no idea how to get around, but I figured I could either take this Matatu thing, or a cab, or who knows.

So I ask the guy at the internet cafe how to get there, and he says, "oh, just go over to Digo and catch a matatu to Mtopa and its up there past the bridge"

Ok, sure buddy. "Um. Look, I have been in Kenya for exactly 12 hours. 9 of them were on a bus. I don't know what a matatu is. I barely know what a shilling is. Could you explain in more basic terms exactly what I need to do to catch this matatu thing?" I explain....

"Oh, ok. Well, I will take you there."

That was easy enough. I usually don't trust people, but this guy had many things in his favor: One, he works at an internet cafe. These are usually the computer geeks of the country. Two, he was smaller than me. Three, he seemed like just a nice guy.

So we're off. I've got images of walking into Cheers, and just like an episode of the bygone classic, I'll hear a "Newman!" as I walk in, and there will be Stocco. Sitting on a bar-stool.

But first, we had to get there. So we walk down this one street, and finally to another. It is typical TWC city layout. Third World Country. Sidewalks? They may or may not be there, but you certainly don't walk on them - that's where people sell stuff. Or beg. So you walk on the street. Oh, and they drive on the other side of the street here too. And its typical TWC driving. Crazy. And I'm walking on the street and there are cars coming at me when there shouldn't be. Just remember, they drive on the other street. Cross street. Look right left right.Right left right.

Right.

So this must be the city's main drag. Tons of cars. Honking. Flashing their brites. Loud noise everywhere. I look closely at one of the little minibuses that make up 80% of the road traffic. Your average minibus. Imagine a minivan, but a little bigger. Like the old Nissan or VW minivans. A box. Sliding door on one side. On the back, they have the name, "American Express" or "Liberty" or "Safari" or something. Then the thing is painted with that theme. Sometimes, there are christmas lights strung around the windows or something. The side door is slid open and some guy is hanging out of it, screaming, I believe, wherever the bus is going. The guy says, "This bus" and we get in, and the guy hanging out of it is screaming "TWAPA...TWAPA...TWAPA....TWAPA...."

Other guys are screaming "POSTAPOSTAPOSTA" or "AFERRIAH....FERRIAH....FERRIIAH..."

That means the post office, or the ferry. But their semi-jamacian accent gives it a comical slant.

So we're inside. 4 rows of seats behing the driver. Blacklit interior makes anything white glow. The only thing white inside the minubus? My skin.

Then there is the music. Loud, almost slamming loud Reggae music. "We jammin' we jammin' we jammin'. lalallala" right?

Then the crush begins. I'm thinking 3 to a benchseat, some 12-15 people in this Matatu, right? Wrong. At least 4. People packed in like sardines. You want to stop? Bang on the roof. Bangbangbang. The conductor, codenamed the Tout, hangs out the side door. TWAPATWAPATWAPA....and people stream in and out of the minibus.

I am pretty overwhelmed. I can handle city buses. Barely. But this, a massmass transit form that seems on one hand part minibus, on one hand part side show, part disco concert, and part contest - How Many People Can Fit in a Matatu!?

And the drive is not a short one. At least a half hour. Craziness. All Stocco said was, "Oh, catch a matatu to mtwapa" No problem. Well, I don't know if I would have made it. On my own. But we got there.

And there was no stocco at Cheers. Had a beer with my friend. Had another. Then there is some other white guy in the bar, alone, looking like he is looking for someone. I go up to him, and say, "Hey, you looking for someone," and he says, "Stocco?" And I let out a scream and slap him on the shoulder.

Well, turns out Stocco didn't go out. He was tired and didn't think I would be able to make it to Cheers. Matatus and all being crazy. Actually, after buying the matatu fare and 2 beers for my "friend" a cab might have been cheaper. Anyway

So Tom, Stocco's friend in the Peace Corp, and I stay out relatively late and then go back to the apartment all the PCV (Peace Corp Volunteers) share. I walk in, and see Stocco sleeping, and go nudge him. "Stocco?" He rolls over, looks at me with eyes glazed from sleep, and all of a sudden everyone in the apartment is woke up by "NEEEEEEWMAN!!!!!!"

So I found Stocco.

Spent the weekend in Mombasa. Then went to Kitchka Simba, the village where he lives. Didn't do much there, except spend 2 hours running to various neighbors trying to buy a chicken for dinner. Success was having the Mama find some twine, tie the chicken's feet together, and stick it in a plastic bag. So here's Greg, carrying a rooster chicken in a blue plastic bag, just like one you'd get at the supermarket, with the head sticking out. Fresh chicken for dinner.

Also went to the local watering hole. Manazi. Apparently they put plastic around the unopened flower of a coconut tree. This causes it to mold or something. But its a good mold. Because it ferments the sweet juice and you get a pretty nasty tasting palmwine. But for ten cents a glass, you didn't expect it to be smooth, right?

He really lives in the middle of nowhere. A matatu comes by three times a day. Maybe two other cars go by all day. Stores? There are two in town. Stocco says he has to go to both of them so as not to offend either one. One of them sells "cold" coke. I think they could use a quick education on what cold is.

We had tea at his school. He lives on the school compound. Security guard at the gate and everything. So as we're drinking this tea, they are trying to tell me how hot tea makes you cool. Um. I tried to explain the concept of iced tea. Tried.

Kenya is a pretty amazing place. I have avoided too much culture shock. The shock I have is almost a homecoming shock. English. Everywhere. In Egypt and Greece, their language is totally different. Not even the same alphabet. I couldn't read anything. If something was in English, your eyes and attention were drawn to it like a trickortreating kid is drawn to the house with a bucket full of candy that says, "Take one"

So in Kenya, all signs are in English. All. While not everyone speaks great english, its perhaps their third language after the Mother Tongue, and then Swahili. But it is the official written language. And all these signs just overwhelmed me. I had to look at them all. And stores too, labeled in English and prices in numbers I can read and it was a lot to take in. I was on sensory overload for a little. But its nice to be back where you can speak the langauge and read stuff. Its been 3 months since I've had that luxury. And I've never been gone from a language I understand that long - even in Mexico, or central America, I had my spanish to fall back on. But now - and who knows for how long - its English time.

So tonight we head up to Nairobi. I think Nairobi is the armpit of Kenya - if not of Africa in general. Mombasa is its antithesis. Safe. Nice people. Not too huge. Not too polluted. Right on the Indian ocean, which I am going to in a few hours.

But we're heading to Nairobi tonight, arrive morning and take the first matatu out. Express Matatu. Up to Lake Naivasha. Supposed to be great wildlife - hippos and flamingos and other animals that end with OS (Mexicanos?). Then we're off to Uganda. Check out chimps and go white water rafting and hang out with Stocco. Its been really strange to meet up with a friend during the trip. Everything around us is so foreign. And we're both used to being in foreign environments. And then, all of a sudden, something familiar, something from home, is tossed into the mix. The contrast of the two is really strange. "Stocco, are we really sitting here in Africa together?" I keep asking. Its like a dream.

Well, off to run a few errands. My guitar broke, and I had some locals fix it. Talk about a situation right out of La Planta in Mexico. It couldn't have been more similar except they spoke bad English instead of me speaking Bad SPanish. Ahh....the stories.

Xmas is gearing up back home - it is slowly ramping up here but nothing like the excess that America has.

Last night we went out with one goal : Find American Football. Bears (Stocco=Chicago) Packers (Newman=Wisconsin) game.

Well, no go. But the Sunday night game was on, at 3:30am. We passed. Stocco knows a place in Naivasha that shows the Mondya night game on Tuesday afternoon. After our night bus Monday night, it'll feel just like a Sunday afternoon game - I can't wait!

Just found out two of my friends are engaged back home. Barb is getting married next October and Kemme sometime someday. Looks like I will have to come back for a few weddings. Barb/Kemme: Get together and plan them so I might just make one trip! :)

Best Holiday Wishes!

Ryan