Karibu Nairobi

I told you I would return to Kenya. I did, a few weeks ago. In my usual travelling style, my safari to get there was eventful, but that’s another story, luckily though I made it in time for the family wedding.

This time round I was in the East African metropolis of Nairobi. Those of us in Harare complain about traffic, we have nothing to complain about as compared to other capital cities. Nairobi is a huge, bustling city, characterized by traffic of all sorts, matatus, pikipikis/borda-bordas, and most importantly people. You find the same thing in Harare, but there is a different flare in Nairobi (with a population over three million).

The language

In Nairobi just about everyone speaks kiSwahili. By everyone I mean everyone, all the market vendors, (people of different ethnic backgrounds. Not like in Zimbabwe, with our 16 official languages (courtesy of the new constitution) most people speak either Shona or Ndebele or English, not often do you find us speaking all three let alone the 16 which many remain unintelligible. But a real linguae franca- a trade language does not exist. Perhaps I am wrong, consulting socio-linguists about this one may be necessary.

A huge smile plastered on my face, in an attempt to apologize for my lack of language I would answer the Kenyans, in English desperately wanting to throw in my few Swahili words and a few words of sheng (the local slang-that I have learnt from my Kenyan friends and family) or better yet answering back in the similar sounding Shona that I know, Hopefully, by the time I return to East Africa I will be more conversant in this trade language that intersects Arabic and Bantu languages.

The people of Nairobi represent a multitude of ethnic and social backgrounds from across the globe. While walking through a large supermarket with my Kenyan sisters, I tried to heed to my mother’s council of not prying into conversations. It was impossible to not to ignore the English spoken with accents from around the globe, the KiSwahili and not surprisingly Shona conversations.

KiSwahilii, allows the people of the nation from over 40 language groups to understand each other. It is the language of choice during  a marriage ceremony joining up two people from different ethnic groups, building relationships and growing families.

The traffic

The traffic of Nairobi is something that everyone who has been to this East African metropolis will attest to is nothing more than irritating. You spend a considerable amount of time in a jam, no matter how hard you try to outsmart it, something will make the journey longer than you anticipated, perhaps it is the road works, or the traffic police who might be chatting with one of the drivers in a stationary car instead of directing traffic. The road infrastructure, even with the many roundabouts, does not match with the sea of cars, the majority being high clearance ones that are able to navigate through the pot holes.

While the traffic is irritating, there is so much to see, roadside markets and vendors selling tourist curios. The vendors selling everything from fresh cut flowers to adorable puppies. If it all gets to be  too much, there are road side restaurants, and popular eating spots all dotted around the city specializing in local delicacies, offering  meals and snacks at cheap prices. If that doesn't entice you there are fast food chains all over.

And then there are the matatus or mats- minibus taxis, which in all the African cities I have been to, are the same. I might even add the Roman taxi cab drivers also share such a reputation. Their names may be different, from a taxi, a Kombi, Candongera, to Molue the drivers and their conductors exercise their entitlement bestowed on them by apparently us; the paying public who desire to get to our destination in the shortest time possible. In an attempt to please us, the drivers have an unusual disregard for the law, weaving in and out of traffic, committing numerous road traffic violations that constantly go unnoticed and not reprimanded.

The upside to these mats is that you have your standard fare and you have no worry about parking. Parking your car is a costly expense when venturing to the numerous shopping complexes, which surprisingly for me from Southern Africa were full of busy shoppers. And off street parking, if you find it, may not be the safest option. The little I saw of the city center of Nairobi along Moi and Kenyatta Avenues, I think it’s a wise option to be a pedestrian. Not to mention that with the mats you can go to the less attractive areas, the real hidden gems where you really see that Nairobi is a sprawling economic epicenter of East Africa.

The sights and sounds

My sisters and I, weary of being stuck in the weekday traffic headed out of the house in the suburbs at the crack of dawn. Jumped into the mat just outside the gate of the housing complex and began our sleepy journey to Gikomba Market. One of the larger markets in Nairobi, where, if you are a self-proclaimed fashionista on a budget, will consider this market as a bargainer’s  mekka. According to my sister, it is the market where all the nearly-new clothes from abroad come into. Walking through the market you find people like me and my bargain savvy sisters, backpacks in hand, market vendors trying to pick out the better quality garments to buy then clean up and resell for exorbitant prices in other less markets of Nairobi. All this is done while trying to hold on to your backpack stuffed with found treasures and men shouting out to move out of the way as they try to move through the haphazardly ordered aisles, carrying sealed sacksful of clothes.

Exhausted from our bargains, we exited the market, a large one, nothing quite like I've seen in Zimbabwe but the hustle and bustle reminded me of the markets in West Africa. Back onto the matatu, we dropped of in the center of Nairobi and stopped for a much deserved early lunch in a popular take away in Nairobi center. Along the street there were several of them with very familiar menus (things you might find at other take always across the globe), chicken rotisserie style, or fried, hamburgers, hot dogs, and deep fried potato chips- what I was after.

I’m not the biggest fan of deep fried potatoes, but my sister had convinced me that I had to try bhajas, before leaving Kenya, having visited Zimbabwe before they assured me that I wouldn't find anything quite like them in my Southern African home. True to their word, the bhajas were nothing short of delicious, the exact carbohydrate fix that was needed after shopping.

The deep fried potato disks that have been coated in herbs and spices, and the ubiquitous fresh coriander leaves sprinkled on top. The flavours of this street food (and I believe many others that I did not have an opportunity to try) are reflective of the intersection of the people and cultural backgrounds in East Africa. Incorporating flavours from the Indian subcontinent, Near, Middle and Far East, subtly alerting you that the nation is a colourful melange of people, histories and stories.

So there you go, a very quick, and very short story of Nairobi, hardly doing it justice. Perhaps the next celebration in my adopted Kalenjin family will give me another opportunity for a safari through Kenya. If you get there, before me, embrace it all, the language, the people and the traffic. For now, I say asante sana Kenya. 

Sono italiana

Its June already! I feel like time is passing me by. Since I last wrote I’ve done a bit of travelling. I spent a week in Greece with my classmates. Definitely somewhere to go back to! We were situated in Thessaloniki. A beautiful city, with ancient ruins, a harbour and buzzing with history, good food and simply enjoyable.

Sunset in Thessaloniki

My only problem was that I did not speak any Greek. I think I would have had a richer experience if I was able to understand some of the jokes and proverbs that the producers were saying rather than hearing a diluted translation. Although the fact that it is quite a big tourist destination many people around spoke English, I found myself reverting to Italian when shop vendors asked me a questions.

Six months into living in Northern Italy I can slowly begin to say that sono italiano, I am Italian (well I’m becoming Italian to say the least). That is  because I can now understand the language- well quite a lot! I had my last Italian lesson this past Thursday and I've realised that I really like the language and the people, their food is a given like. Who doesn’t like Italian cuisine?

I found myself at a party last week and everyone their spoke Italian. Solo italianao- only Italian. Well some of them reverted to English for a few sentences when my face expressed incomprehension of the conversation. I made it through the few hours with my basic vocabulary, rudimentary grammar skills. Somehow the Itailan speakers were gracious enough not to laugh too much at my attempts of using correct Italian grammar but actually corrected me and praised my attempts and encouraged me to continue speaking.

I find myself thinking in Italian, well only for shopping purposes. A friend of mine pointed out that our shopping and food Italian is close to excellent. We can order food and drink and do our grocery shopping comfortably without any hassle. When it comes to real life, that’s another story. But I’m working on that. I stumbled upon a book, Labella Lingua: My Love Affair With Italian, The world’s Most Enchanting Language by Dianne Hales. I relate so much to the experiences of navigating the Italian language and the people. It’s a complex but worthwhile process.

As E.M. Forster once said, “Love and understand the Italians, for the people are more marvellous than the land”. I share this sentiment. As an anthropologist you learn that it is the people who shape your experience. Learning about food culture here in Italy not worthwhile without the addition of all the characters you meet in the process.

For example, going to the local shop for frutta e verdure is not just a trip for seasonal vegetables and fruit, there is always a conversation with the shop keepers and a smile and a pleasant arrivederci e buona giornata/serata/domenica- goodbye and good day/night/Sunday,when you leave the shop. The same goes to visiting the butchery. The singora at the macelleria is always willing to tell me how to cook a particular cut of meat. A while back, I got a cut that was “solo per bolito” only for boiling or a stew. I paid for my cut of vitello-veal, and off I went to make a stew.  When I returned about a week later the singora asked how my stew turned out. I replied, with recently acquired knowledge of the use of the past tense lo stufato era buono- the stew was good.

At the moment I think the busiest shopkeepers are from the gelaterie- ice cream shops. With the heat of summer gracing us here in Northern Italy, there is a constant demand for cool, refreshing and sometimes comforting gelato in all flavours. I’m partial to the fruit flavours especially, fragola, lampone e frutta di bosco- strawberry, raspberry and berries. After my friend’s persuasion; because of her love for the flavours, pistachio e nocciola- pistachio and hazelnut are growing on me. The safest option is always fior di latte, I would describe it as vanilla, but so but better and creamier!

So here I am writing and throwing in the odd Italian word and thinking in Italian, not to mention listening to some Italian music in an attempt to make sure that by the time I leave Italy sometime in the near future I'll have understood the Italian people as well as their food. But for now, arrivederci.