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 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, Chapter 4

 Kenyan Ladies 

Kenyan Ladies Today I would like to write something about women in Kenya. I didn't remember much, some I didn't want to keep in mind, but I can remember a lady, not because she was so pretty, more because I laughed so much. I have to admit right away that I never saw her, never shook her hand or looked into her eyes. Like most foreigners who want to come into contact with women, I went to a cyber office. It didn't take me long to look, I soon found what I was looking for. One ad caught my eye, it was Debbie's ad. I replied, briefly, saying my name, my age, where I come from. So nothing special. A few days later I got an answer. Debbie wrote. "Hello grandfather! How are you?" I had to laugh heartily. It's true, I'm not young anymore - I have to admit it - I'm old! I know and I'm not trying to hide Why also? We get old on our own, you don't have to do anything, you just have to be careful that you can grow old. Well, this 'grandfather' didn't really surprise, insult or otherwise hurt me, on the contrary, he amused me. There was no photo on Debbie's profile, so I asked her to send me a picture of her. I received an answer soon. "I don't have a smartphone, send me money, then I can take a picture of myself and send it to you." I had to laugh again. The grandfather didn't send any money, of course. To this day I don't know if this Debbie really exists. Could also have been a man, so a fake profile. Nobody is safe! "Don't do it," I replied. I can't remember exactly. But it sure came down to that. Another message came from her. Heartbreaking news. "Dad, please send me some money, I have nothing to eat!" It may or may not be true. What should i believe What is the truth? Not easy to find out. God and justice are a long time coming. My love for God wavers and is replaced by love for girls. The latter are more tangible, more tangible than justice. Seen in this way, one can say that love experiences lead directly to communism. It stuck in my mind because it was straightforward. She - if it was her - didn't mince her words and I think that's nice. We always have to decide before the others, about death, love, the world, we have to choose, risk something, let life draw us a little, leave something behind and find ourselves again. She was not like other women who try to avoid reality, who write that age is just a number. Even if it's true that age is a number, it says a lot about us. You can't go over it. It also doesn't fit when an old man has a young woman, expectations are different, the attitude to life is different. So there are many reasons why it doesn't fit. Everyone has to know what they want. I wish for a satisfied, balanced life and that is only possible with a partner who suits me in old age. R. Here said: "If you stay young in your head, the rest of your body is not so important to you. Is there anything that looks younger and fresher than sparkling eyes and a shimmering mind?" Gere is probably right there.

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.

A Foreigner in Kenya, Chapter 1

 Its really amazing when a foreigner stets out of the terminal. What a nice welcome! A soldier is watching you at the door, looking at you and the crowd. Ladies waving hands! Yes, ladies  am here. All the time  have known,  am excellent, well known ìn this World, but  have not known that  am so well recognized in this Part of the World. Handome guy,  must tell myself. What else? 

Those ladies are jumping on me. No surprise! Also some guys trying to come clone but they got chased away by the ladies. I tried to remember my telephone number, no way! Hey men,would you remember your telephone number when two fiery ladies approaching you? Tell thectruth, for sure not. Two black eyes! White teeth, behinde a big smile. Black hair! I feel myself like George Clonney! Must be like that. At this Moment i am the sexiest man alive.... here at the airport for Sure!

"Sir, come with me!," ohne Lady addressed me.

That i would like, my dear, i only thought. "Where you want me to take?" Only hope she will say: to my home.

"Where you want to go? Nairobi?" 

What a pitty! Why she is asking when she know it allready? 

"Yes."

"I give you a fair price!"

That i know. It is always the same story, the fair price. What Is fair and what not? This is the question, Hamlet World answer. 

"How mich?" I ask but i know the price. To high, to much, it is the price for a 'mzungu'. Oder who does'nt know anything.  

The lady answers fast. "3000."

Now comes the second lady. "Sir, i give you a lift for 2500!" 

The first lady is angry. Why not? The second one is disrurbing her Business. She is Shootingstar to the second lady. 

"2500 is better," i said. 

"Ok, 2500," the first lady agreed.

"2000!," shouted the second lady.

"Not to Bad," i answered. "But still to Expansion."

The first lady left, went back. No business for her, that is what she believes. 

"So what you say?"  The remaining lady ask with a big smile.

What can i tell her? That she is nice, beautyful, charmant? She knows it, thats why she is doing this job.

"No way," I toll her. 

I called Uber. That costs me 500. 

Welcome to Kenya. 

The first day can continue.

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