A Foreigner In Kenya, Chapter 21

 Fedha - the money

We are on our way again. The money arrived, people ran like crazy to the bank, wanted to withdraw the money, but the bank prevented that. Wasn't bad!

They want to force him to worship their gods, and as he refuses, they pluck him by his beard and his hair and yank him until he kneels, and it's very funny. He does not recognise their visible gods, and the others do not recognise his invisible gods. But just in case, they take away the little money he has saved up for the altars of their gods, and they beat three of his seven children to death.

That's just by the way. Money makes the world go round. Round is maybe not correct, mad is maybe better. 

We, the monster and I, we are already expected, impatiently, fearfully perhaps, that we, or rather I, will not come. The man with the money! At the moment everything is at my feet. I can't believe what money can do. It works. Money always works. Kindness prevails. Of course, with my signature there is money! Why shouldn't people be friendly? 

In the surveyor's office we sign. Copies are made. I get one to look at. Well, immediately I notice that this document from Ministry Of Land, is not stamped. I have to point this out to him. He apologises, stamps all the papers. 

The way to the bank is now clear. With the signed contract they get the money. They can hardly be restrained. Their first way to the bank! Where else? 

We're going back. 

I have time to think. 

What am I going to do with my life?

... I knew what I was spending it on,

Considered what my faith weighs,

And if I end it on the judgment block,

I was victorious in the end!

(Richard Zach, Austrian poet, executed in January 1943)

From a poem smuggled out of prison). 

Somehow I feel as if I were on the slaughter bench. It's just happened too quickly. We haven't known each other that long and now I've bought a building plot! Somehow too fast! Way too fast. I feel run over. 

We're going for another beer, it's got to be now! My throat needs to be flushed. Something is scratching in my throat. 

As always, my thin thoughts dispel the monster. She's got it, I'll give her that. 

We're still talking about the house, how it's going to be, what we have to consider. 

"Call Fundi, I need to talk to him!" 

Everything is still open. Nothing is decided.

A Foreigner In Kenya, Chapter 20

 Mkataba - the contract

What we still don't know is what the house should look like. Big, small, high, low, ... There are so many options. What I know is simple: Atehan psatzen debena bere etchezan da - (that's what the Basques say) whoever walks through this door may feel at home. And that's my job too.

Are you closer to the face of God when you kneel before his consecrated altar? It is said that God is everywhere. But it also means: go to your father's house.

And that's exactly how it should be, a father's house. Everyone who comes should be welcome, as a friend, relative or just a hiker who asks for a place to sleep.

I'll have the monster call Fundi, this problem has to be solved! 

We'll meet in the bar. As always, I'll have a cold beer. 

"This bar here, that's my office," I explain to the Fundi. "There is everything I need here. Cold beer, fresh air and music." The music is too loud, I can hardly understand anything, that makes conversation a bit difficult.

The Fundi brought some plans with them, copied from a newspaper. We look at them, we don't like them.

The monster says, "What can we do?"

The Fundi says: "Look on the Internet, there are many examples! Find one." 

That's how easy it can be! 

I ask, casually, if he has any idea how much the house might cost? 

He pulls out a pencil and a piece of paper, begins to talk and write. 

"The foundation costs around 100,000. For this we need 50 bags of cement, 2 truckloads of stones, ... Then the approval, the stamps, ..." 

He enumerates a number of things. Then the bricks, the windows, the doors and ... In the end he adds up. It comes to 5 million.

I guess the house can't get big at 5 million! I can't pay that! It has to be a hut, nothing else is possible!

We discuss how big is the house, how big should it be. 

Then we come to his task. He will do the construction site inspection.

I ask him why doesn't he do the planning too? 

"We need an architect for that." 

"And he also does the construction drawing?" I ask. 

"No," he replied, "the construction drawing is made by a draftsman." 

"And where can I find such a draftsman?" 

"That is determined by the architect." 

I think this is just an overview, we don't know anything for sure yet. One after the other. There is a lot of talk, maybe too much. I notice a few things. I discard it again. Perhaps I misunderstood it, it may be that one mustn't judge too quickly.

We arrange a meeting point with the seller. Go there, the contract must be signed. The Fundi is there again. Why? I dont know.

We get off the bus, are already expected. It's not far to the land surveyor. It's a strange office, behind another store. To get to the surveyor's office, we have to go through this business.

I am not doing well. I got a stomach ache that night. They are now making themselves felt. The office is small. 2 tables, nothing else, and as usual in Kenya, dark. It takes until I can see something. Witnesses are there too. Chairs are fetched, we sit down.

The surveyor fetches the contract. He gives it to me. I look at him. It is a form from the Ministry Of Land. Nothing special. Nothing special. A standard contract.

The Fundi also looks at him. I wonder why he's doing this. I don't have to wait long, he's already talking.

"It's a completely normal contract." 

I've been waiting for that. 

And he keeps talking. "Nicely worked out, there is the seller, the buyer, the witnesses, everything is listed correctly."

Excellent! He commented on everything I read. I know everything now!

The surveyor fills out the contract. 

Address given by the monster, then the buyer or buyers. The monster comes first, then me. Now the witnesses. The buying price. He shows me the contract.

"Is it correct?" 

I look at it. 

"No," I say, "the monster's name has to go." 

The monster looks a little surprised, but says nothing. 

The surveyor amends the contract. My name is now the 1st buyer, the name of the monster as the 2nd buyer. So exactly the other way around.

The surveyor shows me the contract. 

" Is it correct?" 

I look at it. 

"No," I say, "the name has to go." 

The monster is irritated. The surveyor brushes the name away. Now only my name is there as a buyer.

"OK," I say, "let's sign." 

Here I am in for a surprise. There is no signing, the money has to be paid first. This is strange to me, but this is Kenya.

Now the questions begin. 

"When will the money be there?" 

The most important question of all. 

"I don't know!" I can only answer. 

"When do you think it will be there?" 

"In 3 days, that is the shortest period of time, it can also take a week or more." 

You are satisfied with that. 

I made the monster happy. I bought a piece of land that doesn't belong to me because the contract is a sales agreement, nothing more.

Everything was handled quickly. If you have time and let time pass, you lose a friend and never get money. I got rid of money, that's true. Maybe I made a friend. One for life. If you ask a person for change, he gives a lecture on the begotten and the ungenerated; if one asks about the price of bread, the answer is that the father is greater than the son; if you ask whether the bathroom is ready, the answer is that the son was created out of nothing. There is always talk of the bush.

We're going back. 

A Foreigner In Kenya, Chapter 19

 Njama - the plot

We will leave it at that for now. We do not want to deal with it any further. As already mentioned, the plot is quickly found. What we don't know is whether it is a piece of land suitable for building a house. So we take the fundi with us. He also arrives with a tape measure. We go by bus. It's not far, about an hour away. If it weren't for the long waits and the many stops, the journey would take just under 40 minutes. So we arrive, get out, walk to the property. It is a bit off the beaten track, quiet, not far from the main road and not far from a small supermarket. A man is waiting for us, it is Patrick. He shows us the land. We take a look at it. Innocent grins. "I'm quite in love with this piece of land," he says to me. I'm a bit surprised, because that's not why I brought him along. He is supposed to measure the land, tell us if it is suitable for building a house. Whether he likes the land or not is his business. The owner comes, a certain Charles. It doesn't take long before two people come on a motorbike. They are the surveyors. They measure the land again with the fundi. Everything is OK, the fundi says. "The land costs 700,000," Charles says. "But because it's you, 600,000." I think, the monster doesn't. "We'll take it! It's so beautiful here!" I'm still thinking, calculating how many euros that is. That's all my savings! There's nothing left. The monster penetrates me. She already has a plan. "Everything is there!," she says, "electricity is there, not far away, water is there! Water is life! Here we have everything we need." Electricity is there, I see the electricity pillar not far away. Water I don't see. "Where is the water?", I ask. "There's a pipe over there, that's where the water will be diverted. Controlled by the government, it's pure drinking water!" I ask why he has lowered the price. He answers that he urgently needs money for his son. I don't have much left, so I agree. So we take it off. We leave. Next to the supermarket is a restaurant. I hadn't noticed it when we arrived, but the monster says, "Let's get something to eat, there in that restaurant." The Fundi didn't see it either. We wonder. The monster rushes into the restaurant without looking left or right, heading straight for her target. At first, neither I nor the Fundi can see anything, because it's dark in the restaurant. We run after her. At the back of the restaurant there is a garden with pleasant seating. We sit down. "How do you know your way around there?" I ask, "have you been there before?" "No, this is my first time here." The Fundi looks at me, I look at the Fundi. He shrugs his shoulder. We order something to eat. Meat, ugali and tomato salad. I don't like meat that much. The Fundi asks me: "You don't eat?" "I do eat, but not so much meat." "Why not?" "They are living creatures that have been killed so that we can eat them." The fundi wonders. "These animals are there to serve us." I don't agree at all. They are living creatures, just like us, created by God. That's what the Bible says. If someone now claims that the animals are there to serve us, he is elevating himself to God's level. And man is far from God. The food is excellent. The beer is cold. Everything fits together well. We are going home. It's not as easy as you might think. There is no terminus where we are, where the matatus are lined up, here they just stand still, you can get on or not, it depends on the space and the price, the two often don't go together. If there is room, the price is too high, if the price is right, there is no room. A vicious circle! We stand on the road and wait. One matatu after another comes, something always doesn't fit. You have to be patient, otherwise you are lost in Kenya. We finally made it. It was already getting dark, I was nervous, a matatu came by, we squeezed in. I feel like I'm in a consern box, squeezed in right and left between people I don't know. But what the hell, we are on our way back. We get home late. I'm going to buy, so we - the fundi, the monster and I - agree to meet before I sign the contract.

A Foreigner In Kenya, Chapter 18

 Wajenzi - builder

This is how life goes, an eternal ups and downs. Sometimes pretty, then again ugly. Bert Brecht already wrote it: 'Nothing stays as it is.' And there is nothing to add to that.

The monster is in my ears, she wants to build a house. I am not convinced that this is the right decision. A house means that I always have to be in the same place, I can't decide overnight that I want to leave this place. I have to sell a house, rent it out, I just give it back an apartment. Much easier and without a headache.

I object, she listens, pretends to understand.

She is looking for an apartment. It's too tight where we live. Which is not really true, because after the party we were - I think there were eight people - in the house and slept there. I have to accept the narrowness, there is nothing else to do.

An apartment will soon be found. Bigger than the current one. Not far away. Pleasant for Jigsaw because that's where she goes to school. Rent is fine, 10,000. We look at them. Not bad. We go again, the caretaker will talk to the owner and then let us know. We'll get word the next day. The owner demands 20,000!

I'm not surprised why, I was expecting something like this.

The monster says: "The owner must have found out that you are a mzungu and has doubled the rent."

Maybe it is absurd, whether I can believe it that way?

In short, the apartments have their pitfalls. Everything doesn't work out, something always comes up. There is always something that doesn't fit.

After weeks of searching, it is clear: a house is needed!

I mentioned it before, a foreigner, a damn, crazy Mzungu, a white man is lost in Kenya. 

We are looking for a house, a place to stay for all of us! I have to repeat, we are two adults and two children.

The search is not that easy. The size has to fit, what is still important is the price!

The monster says: "The boy is big, in a short time he is going to university, then only the little one remains and I send her to my sister in Nairobi." 

Simple. Plain and simple.

I know her, I know that there is a lot of talk, most of it is said to make me happy, satisfied. It therefore has no special meaning for me. A 3 bedroom house is a must! End and end.

We are looking for in Nairobi and the surrounding area. We drive around, inspect, search. We find some houses that we would like. One thing must also be said here that some houses do not even exist, we only see a construction site, green around us.

I'm not rich, contrary to the Kenyan belief that all whites are rich. Maybe we are rich, not in money, maybe rich in experience. What do I know?

If you have enough money, you can choose it, that's true, there is only one thing I don't know whether a foreigner can own a house at all. The real estate agents who try to sell don't say anything, they don't care, the money matters to them.

We come back unsatisfied. Still no house, no view. The monster makes a long face. I notice, but don't say anything.

I am worried. Take a pencil, a piece of paper and start to put my thoughts on paper. What is written can be better analyzed. Soon I come to the conclusion that I can save half of it if I build the house myself. This has advantages, but also disadvantages. The advantage is that I can build a house the way I want and not a house that is a standard house. Downside, I have to take care of everything. It doesn't matter, I'm retired and have enough time.

Shakespeare wrote it in Hamlet when he had the gravedigger say: "No sooner have you been born, death begins." 

It is true that our life is like a house with two doors, we come in through one door, we go back through the other door. Our lives are far too short to play around with. On the other hand, people need a home, the only question is: 'where is my home?' Here I am a white man, a mzungu, a stranger. Don't speak the language. Can I be assimilated here? A white man in Kenya? Without money? Without future? Why should I build a house at all? A little story about it. Alexander the Great, of Macedonia, had subdued the world as far as India. In India he met a guru. He introduced himself. "I am the ruler of this world." That did not impress the guru. "You don't just own the piece of earth you are standing on." That was the guru's answer and he was right. We don't own anything possession is a superstition. Possession does not exist. Only in our imagination.

Man's great fault is that he has the freedom to repent every day and does not choose it.

These are my thoughts. 

A building site has to be found. Not easy either. When the blacks hear that a white man is looking for a building plot, this building plot suddenly becomes gold.

There are phone calls, questions go around, all of which takes time. The monster is in a hurry. Your mood has improved noticeably, that pleases me and calms me down too. Her scowl was not easy to bear.

To cut it short, the aunt has found a reason. Not that far from where we are now.

The next problem is the builder, Wajenzi or as the monster says Fundi. (I don't actually know the expression Wajenzi, everyone says Fundi.)

The monster knows him. "I met him when we were building here, and he was overseeing the building project."

"You built? Who built?" I ask, strangely touched. 

She tells me a story, it can be true, but it doesn't have to be. I leave it, there is no point in asking any further. Dear God, let the Fundi come!

And he's coming! 

We're sitting in the bar, I'll have a cold beer, that's good. It's late afternoon. The sun is still shining, but soon it will disappear behind the trees.

The fund is coming. The monster introduces him. The Fundi has a folder with him. He puts them on the table. He introduces himself. His name is Innocent. (I hope the name is spelled correctly). I have to laugh. He looks a bit strange, maybe confused because I laugh when he said his name.

"Innocent!" I yell out, "I'm not innocent!" 

The Fundi has to laugh too. He sits down. I explain to him why I am laughing. "Innocent has this meaning for me: you are free from guilt or sin especially through lack of knowledge of evil: blameless, an innocent child. And the Bible also says: let the children come to me, because theirs is the kingdom of heaven . "'

"Yes, I know, a strange name, but I have it." 

"Never mind, mine is no better."

The Fundi brought a plan of a house with them. He takes it out of a torn envelope.

"I've just come back from a building negotiation," he explains. 

The house on the blueprint is not what I want, the monster also has objections. But that doesn't matter, because we are looking for someone who can carry out the construction project, we can create the construction plan for it ourselves or announce our wishes.

So far so good. The first step is taken. We have a fund. Now we can take action.

At the end of a short story.

One died in Nairobi. He knocks on heavens door. Nobody open. He knocks louder. God heard it, calling Moses.

- Moses, what's going on, who is knocking on the door?

Moses is checking it. He came back.

-It's a Nairobi man, he wants to enter the heaven.

- Let this poor guy in and give him something to do.

The Nairobi man enters heaven. Moses give him a trimur instrument to play on a cloud.

The Nairobi man got cloud number 7 to sit on and the play music and to sing.

 - Hallelujah, the man sing very lite.

- Hallelujah, again, he sing it very lite and then he hear for an echo or answer but unfortunately he couldn't hear anything.

 - Hallelujah, this time louder.

Again he hear but no answer.

He becomes angry.

- Hallelujah, he cried out. 'Hallelujah again! Dawn hallelujah! ' No answer.

God hears that shouting.

- Moses, who is so much making notice?

Moses is checking it.

- It's the Nairobi man, my master.

-We must give him another job to do. That's good, actually I have one important task to do.

The man is called to God.

- Nairobi man, I have something important to do. This is a letter for the president, he's waiting for it. Go to him and deliver it.

The man takes the letter and leaving heaven. He's flying down to Nairobi. On the way he is passing some bars. He can smell the bear. He thinks, 'Let me have a beer.' And he enters a bar. He orders a bear. It is fresh and cold. He enjoys it very much. He thinks, 'OK, I should deliver this letter but I guess it can wait for some minutes more.' And he orders a second bear. He looks around, everyone is happy, smiling, laughing, drinking bear, enjoying life. He orders a next bear. He starts to sing. Other people sings with him. He orders a bear after the other. Life can be so nice! And he drinks one bear after the other .... And he forgot the letter, the advice from God to the president. And so the president is still waiting for the heaven advice.