Women and always women

Women and always women - Wanawake na tena na tena wanawake

You do not find a happy life, you build it.

Back in the village. Back in the highlands! Noticeable climate change, the wind is cool, the sun no longer burns the skin, it is quite comfortable to wear a jacket. It's not cold, but it's much fresher than in Mombasa or Nairobi.

The dogs, i.e. Mama Dog, named Jimmy, and the dog's son, named Gringo, are happy. They jump up on us, lick us, of course we're happy about that too.

We're tired and we're going to bed pretty soon. The day had been long and a bit exhausting, although we didn't do much. Most of the time we sat in the matatu, looked around, that was all.

Bananas are on the kitchen table. I like eating bananas, just don't like them when they're too sweet. I notice you. I want to eat a banana. My wife cleans the fridge.

"Can I eat a banana?" I ask innocently.

"No!" she replies dryly and without batting an eyelid. "I bought the bananas for decoration purposes3, so when we have visitors, our visitors can see that we have bananas."

Well, I have to take it that way. Which newspaper does it say when the man throws his wife out the window? Of course in "Better Living."

Next day. We slept well. Gringo woke us up, he really barked just before sunrise and not too little. The day begins quite pleasantly, the sun is shining, the wind is cool, that doesn't stop Gringo and me from going for a walk. Two men are standing at a gate, talking. As I pass by, one of the men says to me: "Buy me some bread!"

That's legitimate, I don't have anything with me, but most importantly the man doesn't look starving. Gringo and I, let's move on.

We're walking along the highway. The traffic is tolerable, a car passes by every minute.. As a pedestrian, I am alone with the gringo. After a kilometer the two of us have had enough, I sit down on a rock and look around. A young man with two companions comes by, he sees me sitting there and he thinks that is a rich man. He comes to me, gringo reports a stranger, he barks. I have to hold him back.

"Do you have a job for me?"

"I do not have any!"

"Do you know where there are?"

"I do not know either!"

"You are a visitor?"

"This is me."

They keep walking. And also gringo and I are going back.

We come back to the village, right on the edge of the village, a woman approaches me. She's standing on the street.

"Habariaku!," she greets me.

"Good morning!" I greet back.

"I would like to talk to you!"

"Yes, please!"

"I want to have a little dog of yours!"

I'm somewhat surprised. 

"Are you free?" she asks me. 

"No!"

I go on.

"Stop, I want to be with you recently!"

I'm not interested, I'll move on.

That's all for today. The day is over.

My makeup is dry and it clags on my chin

I'm drowning my sorrows in whiskey and gin

The lion tamer's whip doesn't crack anymore

The lions they won't fight and the tigers won't roar

So let's go and drink to the death of a clown

Won't someone help me to break up this crown

Let's all drink to the death of a clown

Let's all drink to the death of a clown

The old fortune teller left dead on the floor

Nobody needs fortunes told anymore

The trainer of insects is crouched on his knees

And frantically looking for runaway fleas

It would have been nice if the day had ended peacefully. Yet it is not so far. A pastor stops the two of us. "Where are you going?" he asks me kindly.

"I'm on my way home. Lunch is waiting."

"Have you prayed yet?"

"I don't need it, my wife can cook!"

But now the day is over.

A Foreigner In Kenya, Chapter 8

Today I would like to write about my experience and adventures in Mombasa and Kilifi. I arrived in Mombasa, not really prepared for this city and this district. My friends just said go there, Mombasa is beautiful. So I wanted to see this beautiful city. Most of all, I was curious about the sea. With 1,208,333 inhabitants, Mombasa is the second largest city in Kenya and the most important port city in East Africa. The city is located on Mombasa Island on the Indian Ocean and is the capital of the county of the same name. What should I tell you, everyone knows Mombasa. As soon as I got out all hell broke loose on me. Matatu drivers, even female drivers, stormed me, harassed me, didn't let me breathe. That was scary. 

"Where are you going, Mzugu?" "Mtwapa," I replied. "Long way, 5000!" As soon as the number was mentioned, someone else shouted: "4500!" "4000!" And so it continues. I was surrounded by these boars. The last offer was in 2000. I didn't know where Mtwapa is, how far away it is, I booked a hotel over the internet. That got too much for me. "If it is not possible to get a normal price, I will walk!" I took my backpack and slowly walked down the street. The parking lot where the matatus stood emptied, soon there were only a few left. Someone ran after me. "Mzungu, wait, I have an offer for you!" I waited. It was a shared taxi that wasn't quite full. The price was acceptable so I went back and got in. It took another half an hour, then we drove off.

 I can't say where we were going, I have no idea. I can only remember one bridge. One by one got out, I was the last. I had never seen the hotel before, only on the picture on the Internet. But whatever. Mtwapa I'm here! Mtwapa is a city in Kilifi County in Kenya. The city is located about 16 kilometers northeast of Mombasa on the Mombasa – Malindi road. Mtwapa Creek is an inlet of the Indian Ocean near Mtwapa, which forms the border between Mombasa and Mtwapa. Mtwapa is a satellite city and it is part of the metropolitan area of ​​Mombasa. It's warm and humid; I sweat. I come from the highlands and I am warmly dressed. The hotel is closed! What bad luck too! What can I do? It's not nice here, I don't like the area. Doesn't look good here, I imagined it differently. There can be no talk of a beautiful city here. It's dirty, dusty and dirty here. A tuck-tuck is coming. He stops. "Can I help?" It is a young man. Who in this country is older than me? Everyone is younger and more beautiful. But whatever? "Yes," I said, "I'm looking for a hotel, if possible open and not too expensive." "How much do you want to spend?" "2000, about" "Get in, I'll take you there." "What does this cost?" I have become cautious, I learned in Kenya. Caution is the mother of the porcelain box, as we say. "200" I got in, couldn't be far. And really, after a few street corners we stop. "Here it is! Check it out, if you don't like it there are several other hotels." I stayed. Wasn't the best but acceptable, located on a side street, far away from the crowd, the bars, ... But more about that later. As I said, I was very interested in the sea, I wasn't interested in the city of Mtwapa at all. And in retrospect, that wasn't wrong either. I asked for the way to the sea. They showed me the direction and I started walking. Down a narrow street, dusty. I noticed the houses, everywhere signs saying "rooms available". So many houses, everyone is looking for guests. Several people were sitting at a table, a white woman with three black men. She smokes, looks at me with interest, and so do I. She looks old, it's not the wrinkled skin that makes her old. I go around the corner, there is a bar, people are sitting at a table in the shade, this time the other way around, a white man with some black women. “Hello, Mzungu!” One of them calls out and waves. I wave back, move on. Soon I'll be at the sea. What a sight! Mangroves, swamps, flies, a lot of people, one bar at a time. Everyone screams: "Come here, have a beer" A huge German flag is there. Maybe 5 meters long. Some whites are sitting around. I ended up in "Little Munich". I don't like that. There is nothing here that would impress me positively. As a white man, I have no peace here. It's time to eat. I'm going back to town, looking for a bar. Massage parlors along the street. Signs in German. "Leberkäse" Where am I here? Everywhere girls, women all look at me. Waiting for customers, they are prostitutes. Men sit around, apparently having nothing to do, are perhaps the beneficiaries of these ladies. What do I know.

I ask for an acceptable beach, they tell me. I drive there. Call the tuck-tuck driver, he'll drive me. "Lots of white people here?" I ask him. "Not as many as before." The poor prostitutes, I imagine, no business, no food! No whites, no life! After a few kilometers we arrived. The beach. One hotel after another. One luxury house after another. The sea is shallow, the surf far out, here on the beach the water is calm. I go to the beach. Get dismayed by some, buy this, buy this, the old lyre. You have to get used to that. Kenya is full of it. I would be arrested. I've already reported about it, I don't want to repeat that. Here is the link to the story. https://charlykappel.blogspot.com/2021/08/arrested_22.html?m=1 Here a few words about Kenya's police. Corruption is widespread among Kenya's police. Kenya's National Police Service is considered the country's most corrupt institution, and bribery is reportedly the only way to speed up access to police and services (HRR 2016). What I would like to add here are my thoughts on Mtwapa, Mombasa and Kenya in general. On the beach, which is public, there is a large board. This board shows what is and what is not allowed on the beach. I noticed one thing. There is forbidden topless without, i.e. not covering the breasts. And that got me thinking. Bare breasts are forbidden, prostitution is - although not allowed - but accepted. The church preaches, but keeps silent before prostitution. It is easy. Bare breasts don't bring you anything, no tired shilling, prostitution brings a fair amount of money. And money denies life! Just like the government, which is also keeping quiet as if the problem doesn't exist. The white people I saw in Mtwapa, of course not all, there will be others too, are old. They just take advantage of people's plight. Old men, young women! And the whites are not ashamed! The blacks make fun of these impossible whites on the one hand, and on the other hand they pull the money out of their pockets. Don't bother me at all. They didn't deserve it any other way.

Here I would like to mention an article from a Kenyan newspaper.

Sex tourists prey on minors pimped by own parents in Mtwapa https://www.the-star.co.ke/news/big-read/2019-05-17-sex-tourists-prey-on-minors-pimped-by-own-parents-in-mtwapa/

A Foreigner In Kenya, Chapter 5

 Nakupenda kwa moyo wangu wote. "I love you with all my heart. What else can you say? Crazy people invented love. There was another lady, I don't remember her name, I forgot. When I did The previous story of Debbie, she remembered. So we got in touch. Quick and easy. She had children, believe me, remember that she had two. The first question she asked was: "Can you support me? "That was damn quick. No other question, nothing else was important." With what? "Was my counter-question." I have children who have to go to school, I need money for that. "I understand that. Children have to go to school. "How much is this about? What would that cost? "I had to ask, I didn't know. She said a number. I replied," OK "The floodgates were open." And I need something too. "" What would that be? "Stupid question, I could ask myself already imagine what's coming next. "I want to open a business." Of course, what else? I said: "You are not looking for a man, you are looking for a supporter!" God? "She tried to give the conversation a twist." I don't fear God and I don't believe in him. "That hurt!" Then nothing will happen to us! I only take a man who fears God. "With that, the contact was over. Later I learned that everything is valued with money. This is no different in Kenya than in Europe. The pastors in Europe also get paid. They will rich, the creditors poor. Here is an example from Europe. There was a pastor who had a golden bathtub built into his house. That was too much for the creditors. In the end the Pope sent the pastor to Africa, somewhere where poverty is particularly high. Not in Kenya, that is not! Here in Kenya it is comparable to Europe. The pastor comes by car, the believer comes on foot. Here there are churches in all corners that fight for the believers. A lot there is talk of love. There is much of that in the Bible. Christ said nothing about stones and bricks and walls, nothing about the love a man feels for his field, his property, his little kingdom.

Love for anything is the daughter of knowledge; this love is all the more ardent, the more thorough is the knowledge we have of it. And the ultimate certainty is born from the complete knowledge of all parts which, when changed, form the totality of the things that are to be loved. The Christian creed does not know this love. The Bible doesn't know it, but the Kenyan does. The love for his property is very pronounced here in Kenya. There is a fight for every foot width, not traded at all, just fought. What I love about people is that they are a transition and a downfall. Who knows what 'love' is? The desire of the mean to prepare the other with his saliva into a firm bite. And you have to perish from it. Much loyalty is no longer found in this confused world. And the church, faith doesn't make it any better. Faith. There is something strange about the word. It seems that it creates reality first. Things are only there when you have named them, and if you keep something in silence for a long time, it also dies. There is a magical power in the Word, but we must support it with our faith. But we don't believe anymore today. Today we often no longer know the true meaning of the word, and the devil laughs up his sleeve because, as in the case of the Tower of Babel, he has completely managed the confusion of languages. It is believed that the people of Babel spoke different languages ​​back then. Not even close. They all spoke the same thing, but each word meant something different to each one. About like the discussions in Parliament today.

What I mean is what kind of love can that be that money bought? When the church needs something, donations are made, when a believer needs something because he may be sick, prayers are made. There is a difference, whether you like it or not, the difference is very obvious. The two dominant powers in the civilized world are church and state. The state uses the church to manipulate people. The perfect person and the millennium of community is not in sight. The dreamer who plants the seed of universal freedom will reap thorns for his pain. The most impressive institution in history, the church, is crumbling. It comes under the attack of doubt, reason and knowledge. And that's a good thing and also important, because we have to make the leap forward and not stop. Love, there is, even if it is not easy to find. There should be love at first sight, it is very rare, but there is also that. Usually love grows slowly. It gets bigger and bigger. Love has to be worked on. Love means work, a lot of work. Love ain't easy What many women forget when they treat their partner like he is a king is that they become queen. And yes, love goes through the stomach too. For my part, I love good food. I'm really looking forward to it. So dear ladies, don't forget, treat your men like kings, feed them well, then you will be queens.

A Foreigner In Kenya

 A Foreigner In Kenya

What can I tell you? Kenya, the country of nature, of wildlife, and, last but not least the country of the Rift Valley.

Let me start from the beginning. The beginning is usually at the airport. You're very exited about this adventure which is in front of you. Many people have been here, all of them have told a story, different ones but exiting.

You got everything in your pocket. Passport is at the moment not so important. Important is the PCR-Test - of course a negative one. Passangers lining up in a line, waiting patiently, holding their result in their hands. A guy is checking it, reading, then saying: "It's OK". You're going forther, some steps, you must show your QR - Code. This got copied. Some steps later you have to wait on a spot, your temperature got measured. 

This procedure takes some time. But Passangers are used to wait. They have to wait everywhere. Flight time is sometimes shorter as the flying time.

From now on you have to run down a long gangway. Money hangers are there. ATM also. I tried to change money at one office, they refused, they only take cash and I'm always short of cash, I prefer to use credit card. The only change to chance to change is the ATM. Here the amount is limited. That's bad! What you can do?

Next stop is Immigration. You need a visa. Funny thing, visa you have to apply online. After three days you will get a visa, that means a peace of paper. That's not a visa, the visa you hopefully applied for, gives you the nice immigration officer.

"Welome, Sir", greeting me the officer. Actually I like more the ladies. They got more sense.

"Good day, " usually I'm answering.

I'm a kind guy.

I give him this peace of paper, my passport.

"What you're doing here?"

Acctually it's written on this visa paper.

"I'm tourist."

"Tourist?!" can I hear here a surprise?

"Yes."

"Where you're going? Staying in Nairobi or you go somwhere else?"

"I'm going to Nakuru, looking at the lake and the wildlife."

"i give you one month."

You you have to smile, a Foto is taken. A stamp is given into your passport. You're released.

Colloct your luggage, you can go out of the airport terminal.

Kenya, here I am.

Continue reading

https://charlykappel.blogspot.com/2021/08/a-foreigner-in-kenya-chapter-1.html

https://charlykappel.blogspot.com/2021/08/a-foreigner-in-kenya-chapter-2.html

https://charlykappel.blogspot.com/2021/09/a-foreigner-in-kenya-chapter-3.htmll

https://charlykappel.blogspot.com/2021/09/a-foreigner-in-kenya-chapter-4.htm

https://charlykappel.blogspot.com/2021/09/kwa-moyo-wangu-wote.html

https://charlykappel.blogspot.com/2021/09/foreigner-in-kenya-chapter-6.html

https://charlykappel.blogspot.com/2021/09/a-foreigner-in-kenya-chapter-7.html

https://charlykappel.blogspot.com/2021/09/nakupenda-i-love-you-what-beautiful.html

https://charlykappel.blogspot.com/2021/09/a-foreigner-in-kenya-chapter-10.html