The last two days are a blur of airports and planes and airports again, mixed with lots of exhaustion. There just is no jetlag-free way to travel from the Midwestern United States to East Africa. It was probably, though, the best trip I've had. On the Amsterdam-Nairobi leg, I had three seats to myself. Three! I was really happy about it and got far too much sleep (enough that I couldn't sleep last night) but after I thought about it for a while, I started to feel guilty about the excess fuel being consumed by flying a plane with empty seats. The guilt, the guilt! I probably should have also felt guilty about all the people who didn't have even one extra seat (the front of the plane was really crowded). But I didn't.
I met lots of interesting people on the trip.
The guy sitting behind me on the plane was coming back for his first visit to Kenya since he emigrated in 1991. He told no one that he was coming back. "But," he said, "if they try calling me right now, they won't get me." So maybe they might guess that he was coming. He had a six hour bus ride to take in Kenya, after the three flights he'd taken from the Caribbean.
The American woman sitting in front of me told me proudly that this is her 24th trip to Kenya. She very clearly wanted it to be my first trip to Kenya, so she could tell me all about the country. In the absence of such an opportunity, she told me about everything else she could think of: how her nurse from when she was 6 was flying out to London that night and she was hoping to see her before she flew; how they had built her a little house with a patio from money that her dad, who is 91, sent because he wanted it to be used for something while he was alive; and... I forget the rest, because there was no stopping her. I am normally unable to extricate myself from situations like this, but I was so tired that I actually just laid down in the middle of the conversation and put in the earplugs. I think she was asking me, "Where do you stay?" as I fell back asleep, but I didn't actually realize it until later, when things processed. Then someone else came to sit on the end of her three seats, so she talked to him instead.
Across the aisle, two Spanish families were headed to Tanzania. In the four seats across the middle of the plane, four of their six kids, boys between the ages of 7 and 10, spent the flight shouting things to each other over their headphones, hitting each other, and generally causing a rumpus. Every time the flight attendant tried to push the cart down the aisle, there was a shoe or a pillow or a sweatshirt, tossed off by one of the boys, blocking her path. Fortunately, I had earplugs, so the rumpus bothered me not at all, although one of them touched me tentatively on the shoulder at one point and asked if he could "buscar" for something under my seat.
In the visa line at JKIA, I chatted with a Sudanese nun and a Kenyan who has become a US citizen. When a woman cut to the front of the line, the man said, in despair, "Africa will never develop. People have no work ethic here." I advocated for hope and patience, and later I thought perhaps that's the way it should be - we should each be willing to criticize ourselves and slow to criticize others. Then we traded passports so I could see what the new US passports look like and he could see the old. I have to say - I prefer the old. The new photos on the visa pages (e.g. white guys herding cows in the old west? an eagle whose head is bigger than a mountain?) are a little awkward.
So, here I am. I've been relishing cup after cup of Kenyan tea (erm, three, so far today, one with my beloved ginger) and generally trying to settle in. After not sleeping much last night (I read Jane Eyre from 5-6 a.m.), I am forcing myself to stay awake all day. The problem is that right my internal clock bears no resemblance whatsoever to any time zone I've ever been in. Day? Night? Who knows?
I had chicken fried rice for lunch, which was greasy and delicious (and contained some vegetables, which seemed like a good thing). Then my stomach did its normal queasy ameoba-related thing and I went grocery shopping, at the same time. It's not normally a good thing to go shopping on an empty stomach, because you buy too much, but it turns out that it's also not a good thing to go shopping on a full, slightly queasy stomach, because you buy nothing. I almost bought yogurt for the enjoyment, which scared me. After all, I now have ameoba poison which I intend to start taking tonight. Who needs that yogurt crap?
I am appalled to note that I have resorted to (horrors, horrors) rolling the top of my trousers to keep the legs from dragging on the ground. I am not of the waistband rolling generation. I don't approve of waistband rolling. I think it looks hideous, especially when done multiple times so that the clothing is all lumpy and pulled funny. But I left my belt in Michigan and my trousers are too big, so I succumbed. I can only imagine the disaster that will ensue if I lose weight in the very small town I'm going to. I'll have to give up wearing my favorite brown trousers.
And... gotta go.
I met lots of interesting people on the trip.
The guy sitting behind me on the plane was coming back for his first visit to Kenya since he emigrated in 1991. He told no one that he was coming back. "But," he said, "if they try calling me right now, they won't get me." So maybe they might guess that he was coming. He had a six hour bus ride to take in Kenya, after the three flights he'd taken from the Caribbean.
The American woman sitting in front of me told me proudly that this is her 24th trip to Kenya. She very clearly wanted it to be my first trip to Kenya, so she could tell me all about the country. In the absence of such an opportunity, she told me about everything else she could think of: how her nurse from when she was 6 was flying out to London that night and she was hoping to see her before she flew; how they had built her a little house with a patio from money that her dad, who is 91, sent because he wanted it to be used for something while he was alive; and... I forget the rest, because there was no stopping her. I am normally unable to extricate myself from situations like this, but I was so tired that I actually just laid down in the middle of the conversation and put in the earplugs. I think she was asking me, "Where do you stay?" as I fell back asleep, but I didn't actually realize it until later, when things processed. Then someone else came to sit on the end of her three seats, so she talked to him instead.
Across the aisle, two Spanish families were headed to Tanzania. In the four seats across the middle of the plane, four of their six kids, boys between the ages of 7 and 10, spent the flight shouting things to each other over their headphones, hitting each other, and generally causing a rumpus. Every time the flight attendant tried to push the cart down the aisle, there was a shoe or a pillow or a sweatshirt, tossed off by one of the boys, blocking her path. Fortunately, I had earplugs, so the rumpus bothered me not at all, although one of them touched me tentatively on the shoulder at one point and asked if he could "buscar" for something under my seat.
In the visa line at JKIA, I chatted with a Sudanese nun and a Kenyan who has become a US citizen. When a woman cut to the front of the line, the man said, in despair, "Africa will never develop. People have no work ethic here." I advocated for hope and patience, and later I thought perhaps that's the way it should be - we should each be willing to criticize ourselves and slow to criticize others. Then we traded passports so I could see what the new US passports look like and he could see the old. I have to say - I prefer the old. The new photos on the visa pages (e.g. white guys herding cows in the old west? an eagle whose head is bigger than a mountain?) are a little awkward.
So, here I am. I've been relishing cup after cup of Kenyan tea (erm, three, so far today, one with my beloved ginger) and generally trying to settle in. After not sleeping much last night (I read Jane Eyre from 5-6 a.m.), I am forcing myself to stay awake all day. The problem is that right my internal clock bears no resemblance whatsoever to any time zone I've ever been in. Day? Night? Who knows?
I had chicken fried rice for lunch, which was greasy and delicious (and contained some vegetables, which seemed like a good thing). Then my stomach did its normal queasy ameoba-related thing and I went grocery shopping, at the same time. It's not normally a good thing to go shopping on an empty stomach, because you buy too much, but it turns out that it's also not a good thing to go shopping on a full, slightly queasy stomach, because you buy nothing. I almost bought yogurt for the enjoyment, which scared me. After all, I now have ameoba poison which I intend to start taking tonight. Who needs that yogurt crap?
I am appalled to note that I have resorted to (horrors, horrors) rolling the top of my trousers to keep the legs from dragging on the ground. I am not of the waistband rolling generation. I don't approve of waistband rolling. I think it looks hideous, especially when done multiple times so that the clothing is all lumpy and pulled funny. But I left my belt in Michigan and my trousers are too big, so I succumbed. I can only imagine the disaster that will ensue if I lose weight in the very small town I'm going to. I'll have to give up wearing my favorite brown trousers.
And... gotta go.
2 comments:
congratulations on a safe arrival!
excited to hear how the first week goes...
hey marie! gosh i haven't read your blog in forever, but catching up on a few posts just now had me laughing out loud. i've been working at a camp all summer so i feel a bit removed from the world. what are you doing in kenya? who are you working with? i'm SO jealous. hope you're well. drop an email if you ever get a chance.
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