Nairobi

 Nairobi

After our trip to Mombasa we landed back in Nairobi. It’s 2 pm The wagon wasn’t full, the return journey from Mombasa to Nairobi was much more pleasant. I slept again, that was essential. I didn’t see any animals. Don’t think now, the guy was asleep, he can’t see anything, maybe in a dream, but that wasn’t possible, because I had hardly fallen asleep when my wife woke me up again. So I was able to see everything important and beautiful without having to pay attention myself.
I’ll call an Uber. He’s already at the train station. only where? Sometimes it’s really difficult! I send him a message, he replies. “I’m here!” Great, I’m there too! I look around, happy as I am, I find the car. Nobody there. I send a message “We’re at the car!” He replies: “I’m coming!” He’ll be there in a minute. We’re leaving.
Mombasa Road, the hotspot of traffic congestion. Usually all hell breaks loose here! Not today! Heavy traffic, but that’s about it. I’m a bit disappointed. Nairobi without traffic jams is simply unimaginable! I had to learn that the people in Nairobi are just proud that there are traffic jams every day. Maybe you saw this on TV from some big city and now think that a traffic jam belongs to a big city. Everyone asks me: “Do you also have such intercourse with you?” I can’t really tell the truth, most of the time I answer: “Yes, we have too!” I can’t really be proud of that. I’m in contrast to the Kenyans. They’re usually a bit pissed off.
“Really?”
“But yes!”
“Certainly not like this!”
“The same “
“I didn’t think so!”
‘There’s not much difference. In the morning and in the evening it’s backed up.’
“Surely the traffic jams aren’t that long?”
“Can’t tell how long the traffic jams are. The news doesn’t say that.”
Well, what can I say, free travel in Nairobi is not wanted. The dignity of Kenyans would suffer. This is the daily madness into which we — with our eyes wide open — plunge every day. Charles Bukowski put it aptly: “How in the he’ll could a man enjoy being awakened at 6:30 am, by an alarm clock, leap out of bed, dress, force-feed, shit, piss, brush teeth and hair, and fight traffic to get to a place where essentially you made lots of money for somebody else and were asked to be grateful for the opportunity to do so?” And that shows us very clearly what we do every day, with our eyes wide open, we are like a cat that chases you with a tail but never reaches it, or like a hamster on an impeller that tries to get from the spot, maybe also wondering why he is not moving. And we’re all stuck.
But we should also look at it with a smile on our face. A couple is driving the Maserati on the highway in Nairobi and is driving at exactly 81 km/h. A policeman stops the sports car. Grandpa asks: “Sorry, were we too fast?”
The policeman says: “No, but why are you driving that car so slowly?”
The man is surprised: “Am I allowed to drive faster?”
Policeman: “I think you can drive 130 km/h.”
The man says, amazed: “But the sign says A81.”
Policeman: “Yes and? What do you mean?”
Says the man: “Well, I have to drive 81 km/h.”
“No, that’s the number of the Autobahn.”
“Oh! Thanks for the tip.”
The policeman looks confused at the back seat of the car and sees the woman sitting stiffly with her eyes wide open. The policeman asks caringly: “What’s the matter with your wife? Isn’t she well?” Grandpa laughs out loud: “Yes, yes! Only, we’ve just come from the B297!”
It can also work that way.
What is the difference between a car and a vibrator? The car is for the ass.

Foreigner In Kenya, Chapter 6

 A fine day in Nairobi, I was in the bar, had a beer, actually there were two, but what the heck, people were talking, it was loud, several televisions made us happy with a sports program that nobody was interested in. Suddenly an outcry. Someone had come from the street, ran out of breath, stood in the doorway, shouted: "People, traffic jam!" Everyone jumped up and ran out. The waiter afterwards, some had forgotten to pay. In a few minutes the bar was empty. I was alone. I asked the waiter, "What happened?" "It jams again." "And they want to avoid the traffic jam?" "No, they want to take part." I was just amazed. I drank another beer. Fresh and cold. After an hour they came back. They beamed all over their faces. Some had red cheeks, they were so excited. "How was it?" Asked the waiter. "Wonderful. We were stuck in a traffic jam, nobody could go forward, nobody backward, neither right nor left. We didn't leave any space. It was wonderful, wonderful!" That's the way it is in Nairobi. Traffic jam every day. The streets are full. Everyone knows it and yet everyone gets behind the wheel. Why do you do this to yourself? Some because they have to, others - and that's the majority - because they want to. It's the nouveau riche who drive big, fat cars, they have to be shown. Everyone has to see it, you can afford it! You don't belong to the large group of Matatu users, you drive your own car! Anyone stuck in a traffic jam will be seen and that is important. See and be seen. That's why you are completely relaxed when you arrive. It is always hoped that the neighbor in the traffic jam is someone you have never seen. That is the greatest happiness. People in traffic jams burn a lot of fuel, that's the same. At the same time it pollutes the environment. But what the heck, a little lead in the blood won't do any harm. What is harmful is not to be seen. You could also drive Matatu, that would save a lot, but the disadvantage is that you cannot run your own vehicle. And so it keeps building up. No life without traffic jams! Only those who accumulate live!

A Foreigner In Kenya, Chapter 3

 In the hotel

I have chosen a middle class hotel. There are some good hotels in Nairobi, but the prices are heavenly. These hotels are so expensive that I wonder who can pay for them? And yet there must be people who can afford it. I'm not one of them, it hurts, but it's the truth. The lady at the reception is friendly, nice, helpful. I have to fill out an application, but after a long journey, I find it difficult to read. It is also dark, little light, a small lamp hangs on the wall, can barely illuminate the reception. She helps me, points with her finger where I should write the information. This procedure is finally over, I straighten up with relief, stretch myself; with a friendly smile she hands me the key. I go to my room. I'm a little surprised, the rooms in Kenya are a little different from those in Europe. On the left, right next to the door, is a wardrobe, in Europe they are closed, here I can see through the bars. Does not look bad. There are African paintings and decorations on the walls. The bed is just huge! There is certainly room for four people, not just one. This is not a bed, this is a battlefield! The light, ie the lighting in the room, is also not bright enough, much is in the half-dark. But it's nice. I go into the restaurant. I don't really have an appetite, only thirst torments me. I order a beer, then another. Finally, I still get an appetite. My first meal in Kenya. "I want something to eat," I say to the waitress. At the same time I notice that she is extremely pretty. "What can I get you?" She asks with a smile. I have no idea what is out there, I shrug my shoulders. She enumerates a few things, doesn't understand anything. Just order with good luck and luck was on my side. How amazed I was when she came with a bowl and I had to wash my hands. A little strange! After a while a young man comes with a huge bone and puts it on the table. He must have seen my face, which must have had an astonished expression. "Here is your order, sir!" I can't stop being amazed. By the way, an excellent meal. Some mzungus are just lucky! I stayed a few days. Make friends with me. A friend is a manager of this hotel. I was sitting in the restaurant, it was afternoon, having a beer, he came by, saw me, came to me, started a conversation. I wasn't averse to doing some conversation. He told about himself, his family, where they live, how they live. After a while he asked me if I could invite him for a drink. I agreed. "What do you want to drink?" I asked him. "A beer." I wanted to order a beer, but the good man held me back. I asked him why I shouldn't order. He told me that, as a manager, he was not allowed to have a beer with a guest. I got that. "How do I order now?" I asked. "It's easy," he replied. "We have a code here, if I have a beer, I'll just order a hallelujah!" To this day I don't know his name, for me it's simply called Hallelujah! And it will stay like that. Later Hallelujah came to me with another friend. The friend is also an employee of the hotel. I think he's a subordinate of him. I think that should also be true. Hallelujah came to me first. "May we disturb you?" I had nothing to do so I replied it's ok. "What's up?" I asked and looked at the two of them. "We want to leave the country. We want to go to Europe and you should help us." I was a bit surprised because I thought that the work in the hotel should be fine

A Foreigner in Kenya, Chapter 2

 I don't really have to wait long, but this short amount of time I have to wait gives me time to look around. Two policemen face me, passengers come and go. Many relatives come with them to say goodbye to loved ones or to make sure that the love leaves the country. Everything is possible. Cars come, unload someone, and leave soon. It's coming and going. It's warm, not hot, just warm. I start to sweat in my jacket. I can't see that well either, so I have to clean my glasses. Quickly, I don't have time, the car could come at any moment and I have to read the license plate. A small vehicle has come to take me away. I wave to him, he stops. It's a middle-aged man. Anyone younger than me is middle-aged, which is kind of reassuring. He's got his smartphone in his hand and taps it around. "We're going to the Y Hotel on X Street?" He asks me. I can only confirm. We're leaving. Now some other thoughts come to my head. What I noticed is the fact that there were only a few white people on the plane. When I was waiting for the car, I hadn't seen a single white man! We leave the airport, drive on the highway, for us it's a "normal" road, a federal highway. I have some time, the drive to the hotel is not far, only the traffic slows down. There are strange curves that I can't really understand. But this is Kenya and someone will have thought something. "Not many foreigners here?" I ask the driver. "There are some," he replies. "They don't come in as many numbers as they used to." "Yes," I agree, "It is difficult and expensive. Now everyone needs a negative PCR test in order to be able to get on the plane at all, and here in Kenya that is also checked, which is actually unnecessary, since the airline already has it Checked. Two are better! "" This damn pandemic is killing us all. "" Business is getting less, "I mean. "Issue freeze, restrictions, all of this is wrecking us." "I can imagine that. There was also the lockdown for a few months, which certainly left its mark. It sure hit the economy." He agrees. Then he asks: "How is it in your country?" "Not better. More than a million people have lost their jobs. That doesn't sound too bad, but we only have 3.5 million who go to work. That's a million a lot." "How big is your country?" "Not big, you can hardly find it on the map, we only count nine million." The driver laughs. "A little bigger than Nairobi." "How many people are in Nairobi?" I ask. "I'm not sure, but about five million." "A big city," I can only agree. The Nairobi skyline appears. Skyscrapers shoot into the sky. They stand close together. They give each other shadows. One construction site after the other, one traffic jam after the other, actually just traffic jams. It's being built like crazy. It's the Chinese who build there, which I don't really understand because, I think there are a lot of younger engineers in Kenya who can do that too. However, there must be a drifty reason why this construction project is being carried out by foreigners. The driver doesn't know, so it remains a mystery to me too. Later I found out that an expressway was being built from the airport to Nairobi.