It's Been a Year

It’s been a year since I boarded a plane and left my home of so many wonderful years; a year in which:

-          I’ve not felt the intensity of the equatorial sun, nor the deluge of African rain;

-          Nor been woken by the raucous squawks of ibis or the untimely crowing of roosters.

-          I haven’t been aware of the “sound of Africa”, the continual sweeping of compounds using brooms made of twigs.

-          My neighbours aren’t having their vehicles washed daily, and mine has not once been filled with clouds of dust.

-          I’ve been incognito amongst this sea of white faces, no longer a minority.

-          I’ve not heard the delightful chirruping of tiny frogs at night, nor the tones of Abyssinian nightjar, nor the high pitched sound of cicadas, or the ringing of Don Bosco’s bells.

-          My journey to work lacks multiple exchanges of greetings.

-          Security checks have been virtually unknown, access to hotels, shopping centres, and supermarkets being open.

-          I don’t start each day anticipating regular adventures to be had: on safari; on Nairobi’s roads; in the office…...

-          I’ve had clean feet (!), seemingly dust-free homes, and clothes that haven’t taken on a reddish brown hue.

-          I’ve not been an integral part of the music scene, and my flute has yet to be heard in a worship team.

-          I’ve barely used my binoculars, having exchanged the vibrant beauty of bee-eaters, African paradise flycatchers, weavers, fire finches…. at my window for their rather duller cousins.

-          The wonders of Kenya’s varying landscapes and wildlife have only been enjoyed in 2-dimensional form, rather than as a 4-dimensional experience.

-          I’ve not been woken by a mozzie once (!), nor have had need to slay a 'swarm' in the bathroom before bed.

-          I’ve not dodged construction vehicles nor encountered ‘deviations’ over unmade roads……

-          I’m not been part of a diverse community, my world (particularly relating to music) having been predominantly monolingual, monocultural and monochrome.

So many things, most very positive, some less so, but all were part of a life in a country that I’m so very thankful for, and which I think of and miss each and every day.

To have a public holiday or not?

Tomorrow marks the arrival of Pope Francis in Nairobi for a 46 hour visit, during which time he’ll be conducting mass in a number of large venues, and visiting one of the slum areas. We’ve been getting mixed messages about the impact of this visit on the work week:

Monday’s newspaper: “The government on Sunday announced that there will be no public holiday during the three-day visit to Kenya by Pope Francis.”
Tuesday’s newspaper: “The Government has declared November 26 a Public Holiday and a National Day of Prayer and Reflection as Kenya hosts Pope Francis.”

I’m half expecting that tomorrow we’ll be told that Thursday isn’t a public holiday after all!

Menacing Mozzies!

What can be worse than the high pitched whine of a mosquito around your ear at night? I seem to have had a (very) minor infestation of them since I got back from the UK a couple of weeks ago, certainly more than I remember having previously. And that despite not having windows open at this time of year. Then again, doors and windows aren’t exactly sealed here, and mosquitoes really are very small. Some of them however don’t find the cracks - each morning, I’m greeted by a swarm of them when I open my front door!

It amazes me that they only seem to have a knack of making their presence known at that point at which I turn off my bedside light, and then apparently make a beeline for my ear. Or so It seems. On turning the light on, of course they vanish, though at times the whine continues with no mozzie visible (at least not to eyes no longer aided by contact lenses or glasses).

Both of my chemical lines of defence, a can of Doom and Vapemats, don’t appear to be as potent as they once were. Not to mozzies at least – I do however sometimes wonder what the effect of long term exposure is on my own health! The only thing that works these days is my bug zapper, a battery-operated racquet which, on making contact with a mosquito (or any insect), produces a satisfying spark and crackle, and the demise (and cremation) of the ‘unfortunate’ target. I do seem to have had more success recently in zapping them, getting at least one or two a day. Not sure if that is due to sluggishness on the part of the mozzies, or if I’m stealthier in my stalking them.

Thankfully, most mosquitoes here aren’t the anopheles kind which carry malaria. They’re just the kind that can cause sleepless nights, and itchy (sometimes nasty) bites.

The legs of a visitor (who'll remain nameless) after a night in my apartment!

The Great Mystery of Nairobi

I grew up knowing that red is red, meaning stop, and green is green, meaning go. However, in Nairobi, red could mean stop and it could mean go. And the converse applies equally well – green could mean go, but it could equally mean stop. Such is the mystery of approaching a traffic light here.

When I first came to Nairobi in February ’03, I’m not sure that there were traffic lights, or if there were, they were few and far between. I remember seeing a public service announcement on local television around 2004 advising pedestrians what to do following the installation of pedestrian crossing in central Nairobi. That must have been the start of the growth of the phenomenon of traffic lights. It was never clear what to do when you approached a red light. Any sign of stopping at them might lead to the cars behind you either driving around you, or alternatively hooting impatiently. I did hear of people occasionally being fined (or threatened with fines) by policemen at roundabouts with traffic lights.

In August 2013, things reached new heights when many of the roundabouts and junctions in the central part of Nairobi were adorned with new traffic lights with countdown mechanisms telling you how many more seconds you had to wait until the light turned green or red. And with cameras at all the junctions to catch those who weren’t abiding by the traffic lights. This led to some observance of whether the light was red or green. However, for some reason, it was still seen as necessary to have policemen at these particular roundabouts, who nine times out of ten themselves seemed to take no heed of the lights. I dreaded approaching a red light. All of my instincts told me to stop, yet the general flow was to go. What a dilemma! I’d choose routes to avoid the lights, rather than face the unknown meaning of a red light. And be thankful whenever a light was green.

When I headed out of town this afternoon, I approached a green light at a roundabout. Yet traffic was flowing around it from the entry points that must surely have been red. When it turned red, that was when the cars in front of me started creeping out onto the roundabout. It really is a mystery. I hope one day to understand what to do. Or maybe I've missed something altogether, and the lights and the numbers counting down, and the cameras flashing, are in fact merely a rather expensive decorative feature?

Travels en Afrique

Observations on my Ethiopian flights from Ouaga to Nairobi yesterday:-
1. Little difference between matatu and plane passengers with regard to the notion of queuing to get on the means of transport! A bit of a scrum to get on. I kept finding myself at the back!!!
2. No preference given to the elderly or those with children.
3. As a female traveller, I was very much in the minority.
4. Such a variety of nationalities and cultures (with associated dress) represented.
5. All seemngly carrying more hand luggage than the baggage allowance. We spent at least 20 extra minutes on the ground in Ouaga while the stewardesses attempted to get everyone's hand luggage in the overhead compartments, or convince passengers to put their smaller bags underneath the seat in front of them.
6. Best to carry own snacks. (I did.)
7. Best to have own entertainment. (I did.)
It was a long journey - 16 hours door to door. A stop in Niamey to pick noone up and drop noone off (!), though they wheeled up the stairway anyway, and a change of planes in Addis.

Musical Opportunities

One of the surprises I had in coming to Kenya in February 2003 was the discovery of the existence of an orchestra. Nairobi Orchestra has been running for getting on for 70 years now, initially involving players predominantly from the ex-pat / white community, and in recent years, with an increasing influx of Kenyan musicians, as classical music has been promoted locally. I’ve been privileged to have been part of this for over 11 years, both as player and as treasurer, serving on the committee of volunteers that seeks to provide a good programme of classical music. Each year, we'll have guest conductors and soloists come from overseas as our budget (or sponsorship) allows. At other times, we look within our own ranks for both of these. Consequently, I've had opportunity to play a couple of concertos with the orchestra, something that this Chemistry graduate turned management accountant had certainly never dreamed of doing prior to living in Nairobi! Such opportunities just don’t present themselves in the UK! In June 2007, I was asked to play Mozart’s Flute Concerto in D, followed by Bach’s 4^th Brandenburg Concerto for 2 flutes (or recorders) and violin in March 2011. And in just over two weeks’ time, it’ll be back to Mozart, this time the Flute and Harp Concerto in C. Fish in a small bowl is what comes to mind, yet an opportunity that is not to be sneezed at (certainly not while playing the flute)!

The Scourge of the Plastic Bottle

The Kenyan coastline is beautiful. Aquarmarine waters, with bright white waves breaking onto a white sandy beach, lined with cassuarina and palm trees. There’s quite a bit of seaweed, parts of the beach seeming more prone to it than others. In places where coves face a certain direction, mounds of seaweed can stand several feet deep. That’s all very natural, though not particularly pleasant to walk through. However, what I’ve been noticing this holiday is the amount of rubbish that’s been mixed in with it – shoes (quite an abundance of shoes!), toothbrushes, and plastic bottles and bottle caps. The bottle caps can look quite colourful (red, blues and greens) amongst the brown weed, but it’s rubbish and shouldn’t be here at all, detracting hugely from the beauty of the rest of the beach. It’s made me think about the number of plastic bottles that must be being used each day, and discarded, either just tossed out, or disposed of via Kenya’s seemingly  ineffectual rubbish collection system. (Ineffectual, as a lot of it is evidently finding its way into the ocean, and in other places, trees are adorned with plastic bags.) How many meetings, conferences and hotels give out 500ml bottles, rather than using water filters which draw water from the taps, and reusable containers. There must be a better way of doing this before this country disappears under a mound of plastic.