seriously... you dont know.
remember that "i will not be offended if..." list that i posted a few days ago?
my committment to not be offended was tested today... and so much so that i buried my head in lauren's shoulder on our matatu ride home today. it was pretty much the most horrible, humiliating, and hysterical kenyan experience for an overweight very tall white girl to have in one day.
today daniel, ina, lauren and i went to the Hope Bright Future children's home where many children who are sponsored through TI are housed. the children were precious, and i laughed and played and hugged and kissed them for hours... it was pretty much perfect... but that was the house.
the traveling there, though? oh dear God.
okay... so for my friends and family reading this, i would just like to say for the record, "i HAD a BAAAAD exPERIENCE!" that's your precursor to my adventures, and the only time i will mention its unpleasantness in the form of my utter humiliation at how my weight almost killed a few kenyan men today.
they might like my booty, but they dont like hauling it up hills, ya'll.
so... oh man. where do i start? okay... so when you get to the village where the children's home is, there is about a mile and a half of very hilly dirt roads that you travel by boda.
yes... i said boda. the bicycle... ME... on the back of a bicycle with kenyan men (yes, i just used the plural form) pedaling my butt up and over hills. does this worry anyone but me? good lord.
so we took a matatu to the village, and walked up the first really steep hill into a lush and green area in the hills of the village. the hills didnt look that big to me, but then again i didnt have to pedal up them with ME on the back. a bunch of boda drivers had followed us up the hill, and stood ready for us to get on each boda. i sized them up and started to worry.
daniel said "hope, take the one in front!" and i thought "seriously? do you need glasses? he's half my size!" but i trusted daniel, and got on. to dan's credit, the guy WAS actually the strongest looking one there... but that didnt change the fact that he was still half my size.
so dan gave my boda driver a not so little push to get him going (it was more like a running start), and we went along for a minute or two until the first hill. the FIRST hill. yeah... it was more like an INCLINE, and my driver definitely gave up.
GAVE UP, people! he tried... i give him that much... but he couldnt do it. all i could think was "alright, i better get to walking" because daniel and ina and lauren werent even in sight. i was all alone in the middle of a forest with a bunch of kenyans laughing at me, and a shrimpy one that couldnt get me where i needed to go. i know... i laughed at myself, too. i walked about 100 feet before a taller and stockier (thank God!) boda driver came from behind and stopped in front of me. it was the relay race i had originally put on that "i will not be offended if.." list.
he mustve been trailing us thinking "theres no way he's gonna make it, so i'll get her business" and there he was... just his luck... or demise... i'll let you decide.
he got me there. he stopped twice, and once a bunch of school girls saw that he was about to DIE i think, and they ran along and gave him some help by pushing us up a steeper hill. i was nonstop laughing at this point, along with EVERY SINGLE KENYAN along the side of the road. it was a spectator sport.
i didnt get mad or embarrassed... not until an older kenyan grandma yelled back at me "you shouldve taken a motorbike!" from her boda (who was passing mine). she looked at me like i was pointing a gun at a helpless child. i wanted to pull the trigger on HER. it was then that all those starbucks frappucchinos felt like dead weight on my thighs and i started to shrivel inside. it was not fun.
when my second boda driver got me to the children's home, he nearly fell over from exhaustion as daniel handed him 20 shillings more than the normal price... if i wouldve had 100 shillings for him, i wouldve given him it.
on the way back, it wasnt so dramatic... but a lady from the children's home saw the shrimpy boda drivers waiting for us, and yelled at them in swahili that they needed to find a driver who was strong enough to carry me. yup... not lying. by that point, i wanted lyposuction.
going back the way we'd come, the spectators who remembered my first two boda drivers and their olympic relay race to get me up the hills actually cheered for me like they were happy i was still alive and my drivers hadnt shot me. oh... and the school girls who helped my boda up that one hill? they followed me for a bit on the way back saying "you give us something!" like i ASKED them to push me.
i was no longer laughing... i wanted to flip them off... i wouldve yelled if we werent whizzing by.
which brings me to the end of my story... i think i broke the boda driver's bike on the way back. i didnt stop to see... i was too mortified. we started skidding when he was happy for the downhill part (or just couldnt move his legs), and when he used his brakes i think the chain of his bicycle rebelled and fell off. either way, i paid him double the normal price and ran to the sympathetic faces of the other mzungus who had been waiting for me for five minutes already.
they dont know.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
TIA (this is africa) #2
tia - this is africa
- while getting on a matatu, if you try to help a little girl up into it, she will hand you her chicken rather than take your hand (not even joking... the whole matatu busted up laughing while a wee one handed me her chicken. i guess the look on my face said it all)
- men who are left without a wife for a day of travel with their toddlers will strap a barstool onto the back of their boda and put the child in the upsidedown barstool. it is the kenyan carseat
- matatu drivers always have pictures of their "relatives" and "very good friends" on the windshields of their vans. everyone is related to, or friends with obama, tyra banks, shakira, akon, 50 cent, and many others
- if a huge group of men on piki pikis (motorcycles) passes you without passengers on their bikes, it's because they dont have licenses to drive, and they are running from the police. there is no such thing as a motorcycle gang here... just the future residents of the kenyan jail cells
- goats, sheep and cows are the pets of choice here... and children dont name them because they could be a pet for a day or a month, but eventually it will be dinner
- if you are white, you are rich... and you dont even need to prove it. kenyans will hand you whatever they're selling, and just stare at you like youre going to pull money out of thin air
- matatu drivers will yank an kenyan woman out of the front seat just to offer you and your white skin the best seat on the vehice... and the closest one to them (all matatu drivers are men)
- kenyan children will grab the flab under your arms and ooooh and aaaaah over it like its gold... because to them, it is. the bigger you are, the higher your dowry when you marry. i wonder how many cows i am worth... i dont think i want to know
- children will commonly shout " 'ow ahre yOU!?" as you pass, because i is the only english they know... and if you respond with "mazuri!" which means "good", they freeze with looks on their faces like "oh, she knows my language... i couldve said something better" but they moment has already passed, so they stare in dumbfounded amazement as you walk or drive on by
- when in town shopping, all kenyans will look you up and down... but if you greet them, they'll stare at the ground and say "mazuri" like theyre a child who has been caught with their hand in the cookie jar
- while getting on a matatu, if you try to help a little girl up into it, she will hand you her chicken rather than take your hand (not even joking... the whole matatu busted up laughing while a wee one handed me her chicken. i guess the look on my face said it all)
- men who are left without a wife for a day of travel with their toddlers will strap a barstool onto the back of their boda and put the child in the upsidedown barstool. it is the kenyan carseat
- matatu drivers always have pictures of their "relatives" and "very good friends" on the windshields of their vans. everyone is related to, or friends with obama, tyra banks, shakira, akon, 50 cent, and many others
- if a huge group of men on piki pikis (motorcycles) passes you without passengers on their bikes, it's because they dont have licenses to drive, and they are running from the police. there is no such thing as a motorcycle gang here... just the future residents of the kenyan jail cells
- goats, sheep and cows are the pets of choice here... and children dont name them because they could be a pet for a day or a month, but eventually it will be dinner
- if you are white, you are rich... and you dont even need to prove it. kenyans will hand you whatever they're selling, and just stare at you like youre going to pull money out of thin air
- matatu drivers will yank an kenyan woman out of the front seat just to offer you and your white skin the best seat on the vehice... and the closest one to them (all matatu drivers are men)
- kenyan children will grab the flab under your arms and ooooh and aaaaah over it like its gold... because to them, it is. the bigger you are, the higher your dowry when you marry. i wonder how many cows i am worth... i dont think i want to know
- children will commonly shout " 'ow ahre yOU!?" as you pass, because i is the only english they know... and if you respond with "mazuri!" which means "good", they freeze with looks on their faces like "oh, she knows my language... i couldve said something better" but they moment has already passed, so they stare in dumbfounded amazement as you walk or drive on by
- when in town shopping, all kenyans will look you up and down... but if you greet them, they'll stare at the ground and say "mazuri" like theyre a child who has been caught with their hand in the cookie jar
Friday, January 16, 2009
you're in trouble now
nyorotisi is a town about an hour and a half outside of kitale. TI was made aware of a grandmother who was trying to support her four grandchildren when they became orphans awhile back, and after evaluating the situation, TI now brings them food and support.
today we brought the grandmother and her kids their food supply.
now, i say this with all the love in my heart... but nyorotisi is seriously located in the buttcrack of nowhere.
this is how our traveling to nyorotisi went:
- anne, michele and i got on a matatu van with our food and supplies, and after 30 minutes our matatu was stopped by the police. from what i could figure out, our driver had pulled off into a part of the road that he wasn't supposed to stop on
- after the police officer took out his handcuffs, we knew we wouldnt be going anywhere on that matatu, so we got on another one with 20 other people (insert big ::sigh:: here)
- another 20 minutes of driving, and we were at the junction to get in the truck bed that would take us down another dirt road further from... uh... well, "civilization"
- we got to the junction, but the toyota truck's camper shell wasnt filled yet, so we waited for a half hour for the driver and another guy to find more passengers
- after finally leaving the junction with 14 passengers in the truck's camper shell, we drove to the place where we would catch bodas... and there was only one boda. yeah. only one
- the lone boda driver cruised along behind anne and i and michele, and we trudged down a dirt road for two miles in 90 degree heat... and no shade, mind you
after being greeted by the grandmother and her grandchildren, we started the walk back.
my favorite part of the day was traveling back... the kids in the area had all gotten out of school, and it must've been a school for younger children. mind you, most little kids have seen a mzungu (white person) like once or twice in their life... and NEVER a big tall mzungu.
THEY WERE TERRIFIED OF ME.
it was tragic. i was talking to them in swahili and holding my hand of sweets out to them, and they wouldnt let me get within 20 feet of them without BOOKING IT another 200 feet down the road before stopping and staring again. i really wanted to play with them, but they wouldnt even get near me. some older ones finally took a piece of candy, but i wanted to play with the little wee ones. aww. it was so sad.
finally i gave up and put my candy away, and a short while later michele said "i wonder what they'd do if you ran at them" and i was intrigued. i had to try it.
when i got as close as theyd let me, i screamed like a banshee and took maybe three huge lunges towards them, and they froze for a millisecond with mortified looks on their faces, and then FLEW down the road and into the nearest bushes they could find.
for the rest of the 2 mile walk, i walked by giggling bushes that got really quiet as i passed.
today we brought the grandmother and her kids their food supply.
now, i say this with all the love in my heart... but nyorotisi is seriously located in the buttcrack of nowhere.
this is how our traveling to nyorotisi went:
- anne, michele and i got on a matatu van with our food and supplies, and after 30 minutes our matatu was stopped by the police. from what i could figure out, our driver had pulled off into a part of the road that he wasn't supposed to stop on
- after the police officer took out his handcuffs, we knew we wouldnt be going anywhere on that matatu, so we got on another one with 20 other people (insert big ::sigh:: here)
- another 20 minutes of driving, and we were at the junction to get in the truck bed that would take us down another dirt road further from... uh... well, "civilization"
- we got to the junction, but the toyota truck's camper shell wasnt filled yet, so we waited for a half hour for the driver and another guy to find more passengers
- after finally leaving the junction with 14 passengers in the truck's camper shell, we drove to the place where we would catch bodas... and there was only one boda. yeah. only one
- the lone boda driver cruised along behind anne and i and michele, and we trudged down a dirt road for two miles in 90 degree heat... and no shade, mind you
after being greeted by the grandmother and her grandchildren, we started the walk back.
my favorite part of the day was traveling back... the kids in the area had all gotten out of school, and it must've been a school for younger children. mind you, most little kids have seen a mzungu (white person) like once or twice in their life... and NEVER a big tall mzungu.
THEY WERE TERRIFIED OF ME.
it was tragic. i was talking to them in swahili and holding my hand of sweets out to them, and they wouldnt let me get within 20 feet of them without BOOKING IT another 200 feet down the road before stopping and staring again. i really wanted to play with them, but they wouldnt even get near me. some older ones finally took a piece of candy, but i wanted to play with the little wee ones. aww. it was so sad.
finally i gave up and put my candy away, and a short while later michele said "i wonder what they'd do if you ran at them" and i was intrigued. i had to try it.
when i got as close as theyd let me, i screamed like a banshee and took maybe three huge lunges towards them, and they froze for a millisecond with mortified looks on their faces, and then FLEW down the road and into the nearest bushes they could find.
for the rest of the 2 mile walk, i walked by giggling bushes that got really quiet as i passed.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
what smells... good?
it smells here.
the smells are so bad - and so normal - that the body odor from 95% of the population around me doesn't even shock me anymore... it's commonplace, and you really cant do anything about it... so you just deal and chalk it up as part of the experience.
men walking by... the woman sitting next to me... the boda driver hauling my butt down a kenyan road... they just smell. i noticed it everyday, and at every moment for my first few days in kenya. now i only do on rare occasions when its just RAUNCHY and overly inconvenient for my nostrils to try and ignore someone's stench.
i didnt realize how used to the bad smells i'd become until i was at the internet cafe a couple days ago. i was typing away on my blog, and then was pleasantly surprised as i thought "that smells so good... what is it?" just in time for daniel to walk up behind me. a breeze had blown his cologne towards me as he walked in the door.
arent breezes amazing? i really loved that breeze. it had a special place in my heart that day.
it was so ironic... there i was, sitting among six men around me who probably hadnt showered in days or worn deodorant (ever), and what i was shocked by wasnt their stench but rather the amazing smell of dan's cologne. thats the way it is here though... you dont notice the bad smells after a few days... just the pleasant ones.
as dan left, i silently dreaded the next breath id have to take. i knew it would bring with it the common stench, and the knowledge that kenyan body odor had overpowered the good smelling italian (stallion. daniel requested i put that at the end of his new nickname).
god bless the italian stallion's cologne... it reminds my nose that this suffering will not last forever.
the smells are so bad - and so normal - that the body odor from 95% of the population around me doesn't even shock me anymore... it's commonplace, and you really cant do anything about it... so you just deal and chalk it up as part of the experience.
men walking by... the woman sitting next to me... the boda driver hauling my butt down a kenyan road... they just smell. i noticed it everyday, and at every moment for my first few days in kenya. now i only do on rare occasions when its just RAUNCHY and overly inconvenient for my nostrils to try and ignore someone's stench.
i didnt realize how used to the bad smells i'd become until i was at the internet cafe a couple days ago. i was typing away on my blog, and then was pleasantly surprised as i thought "that smells so good... what is it?" just in time for daniel to walk up behind me. a breeze had blown his cologne towards me as he walked in the door.
arent breezes amazing? i really loved that breeze. it had a special place in my heart that day.
it was so ironic... there i was, sitting among six men around me who probably hadnt showered in days or worn deodorant (ever), and what i was shocked by wasnt their stench but rather the amazing smell of dan's cologne. thats the way it is here though... you dont notice the bad smells after a few days... just the pleasant ones.
as dan left, i silently dreaded the next breath id have to take. i knew it would bring with it the common stench, and the knowledge that kenyan body odor had overpowered the good smelling italian (stallion. daniel requested i put that at the end of his new nickname).
god bless the italian stallion's cologne... it reminds my nose that this suffering will not last forever.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
satan's koolaid
so... within a couple days of being in kenya, i noticed i had a scratchy throat and a bit of a headache. i wasn't alarmed, as i usually get a cold during or after traveling, so i thought i'd be fine. well, a couple days went by and although i was getting used to functioning on very little sleep and being a bit run down, i realized i'd better take something for my cold. i had been taking emergen-c packets everyday since before leaving america, so i knew i had enough vitamins, but i think my body was just in rebellion from traveling and jetlag, etc. so it didnt help.
for you to understand the remainder of this story, i feel the need to state a well-known fact about my sleeping habits.
i snore.
yes, it's true... i do. in fact, i snore loudly... and when i am sick and my nose is stuffed up, i am not offended when people use the phrase "freight train" when describing the sound of my nasal cavities. what am i gonna do? i cant help it. so... with that little precursor to my story, i will tell you that lauren and michele and ina, my roommates here in kenya, have not gotten a good night's sleep with me in the room. i've had a head cold since i arrived.
on day 3 of hope not being able to breathe properly at night, michele volunteered a bit of her vitamin supplement she brought with her to kenya, to see if she could cure me and help everyone get a good night of sleep. now, keep in mind that i am (and i say this lightly) NOT a morning person... so when michelle says "i'll go make you some vitamins," i barely have the ability to put together a "thank you" and brush my teeth, let alone ask what it tastes like.
i shouldve known from the look on her face when she came in the room stirring what looked like a weak milkshake, that it was gonna be bad... but i had no idea. she handed me the cup and said "plug your nose and just swallow".
i am so stupid... i listened to her.
even with my nose plugged, i felt like the taste buds on my tongue would never recover. the putrid odor of what i have not so affectionately dubbed "satan's koolaid" was enough to turn my stomach, but i chugged it. when that last swallow was gone, i gasped for air (which made it SOO much worse) and all i could think to say was "MOTHER TRUCKER!" as i leaned over the sink in our room waiting for the puking to start... it was THAT bad.
there was no puking... but if it wouldve, i guarantee the first time it went down couldn't be worse than the first time it came up.
so, there you go... the worst thing i've put in my mouth while in kenya was actually from america.
for you to understand the remainder of this story, i feel the need to state a well-known fact about my sleeping habits.
i snore.
yes, it's true... i do. in fact, i snore loudly... and when i am sick and my nose is stuffed up, i am not offended when people use the phrase "freight train" when describing the sound of my nasal cavities. what am i gonna do? i cant help it. so... with that little precursor to my story, i will tell you that lauren and michele and ina, my roommates here in kenya, have not gotten a good night's sleep with me in the room. i've had a head cold since i arrived.
on day 3 of hope not being able to breathe properly at night, michele volunteered a bit of her vitamin supplement she brought with her to kenya, to see if she could cure me and help everyone get a good night of sleep. now, keep in mind that i am (and i say this lightly) NOT a morning person... so when michelle says "i'll go make you some vitamins," i barely have the ability to put together a "thank you" and brush my teeth, let alone ask what it tastes like.
i shouldve known from the look on her face when she came in the room stirring what looked like a weak milkshake, that it was gonna be bad... but i had no idea. she handed me the cup and said "plug your nose and just swallow".
i am so stupid... i listened to her.
even with my nose plugged, i felt like the taste buds on my tongue would never recover. the putrid odor of what i have not so affectionately dubbed "satan's koolaid" was enough to turn my stomach, but i chugged it. when that last swallow was gone, i gasped for air (which made it SOO much worse) and all i could think to say was "MOTHER TRUCKER!" as i leaned over the sink in our room waiting for the puking to start... it was THAT bad.
there was no puking... but if it wouldve, i guarantee the first time it went down couldn't be worse than the first time it came up.
so, there you go... the worst thing i've put in my mouth while in kenya was actually from america.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
babies and a birthday party
we have a couple families staying here with us at the TI compound.
katherine and her two little ones, anna (5), and joseph (3), are darling. the kids just love being here. they run around the compound dragging the guard dogs with them, along with any extra mud or dust they can find. its adorable, and quite the exciting adventure in even the smallest little things that only wee ones their age would notice... like following the ants to their hill, or the storks swooping over the backyard. it's all so exciting for them... and anna is currently reading over my shoulder as i write this blog. haha... hi anna.
she just read that and said "heeeey! why did you write that to meeee?!" as she tossed her head of curls that make her look like tarzan's child. oh she's a cutie.
the young couple we have staying here with us, mike and manon (man-oh), are amazing. we just adore them and their wee one, aliyah. its been a rough trip for them having to adjust to the time change along with life overseas with a one year old in tow. i dont know how they survive on so little sleep and still doing all they do during the day with their different projects in town. i love that manon's mother tongue is french. she speaks to aliyah in it... so, naturally, she also sings her french songs. it isnt uncommon to hear a soothing french lullaby wafting down the hall as she tries to get aliyah to bed. its so beautiful and surreal.
that said, manon wanted to have a surprise birthday party for mike... so on friday morning she got him out of the house to go meet with people at some projects they and a group of people from canada support. success! he was gone, and dan and lauren had covertly hired a few kenyan women to come and cook a feast for the 40 or so children that would be arriving around noon at the house.
at 9am, ina, michele, lauren and i went out to the side of the house where mark and derek (the newest TI staff members), had built 3 traditional kenyan firepits the day before. basically, just imagine three huge rocks in a triangle with space between them to build a medium sized campfire. on top of each of those, an army sized pot to hold cabbage (that we cut), tomatoes (that we boiled and then sliced), and a huge amount of meat and potatoes. most of the time michele and i didnt know what the crap we were doing, and the cooks corrected us, but we had a successful experience. along with all that was enough chapati (really thick flour tortillas) for the 40+ people.
it was alot of food.
the food was prepared and cooked for 3 hours and then the kids arrived. shortly afterwards, mike came back to the house and was thrilled that most of the kids from their projects had come to surprise him. he had no clue, so manon was pleased that the party was a success. the rest of the day was filled with laughter and games and pictures... and of course the eating of the food.
the kids loved the nailpolish i brought with me. ina and i painted toes and fingers for a good hour before the two bottles of polish id brought out were gone. they were such a hit. even some of the adult women asked for me to paint their nails... i hear the nailpolish will be an equally fantastic hit with the older kids as well as the young ones we saw at the party.
katherine and her two little ones, anna (5), and joseph (3), are darling. the kids just love being here. they run around the compound dragging the guard dogs with them, along with any extra mud or dust they can find. its adorable, and quite the exciting adventure in even the smallest little things that only wee ones their age would notice... like following the ants to their hill, or the storks swooping over the backyard. it's all so exciting for them... and anna is currently reading over my shoulder as i write this blog. haha... hi anna.
she just read that and said "heeeey! why did you write that to meeee?!" as she tossed her head of curls that make her look like tarzan's child. oh she's a cutie.
the young couple we have staying here with us, mike and manon (man-oh), are amazing. we just adore them and their wee one, aliyah. its been a rough trip for them having to adjust to the time change along with life overseas with a one year old in tow. i dont know how they survive on so little sleep and still doing all they do during the day with their different projects in town. i love that manon's mother tongue is french. she speaks to aliyah in it... so, naturally, she also sings her french songs. it isnt uncommon to hear a soothing french lullaby wafting down the hall as she tries to get aliyah to bed. its so beautiful and surreal.
that said, manon wanted to have a surprise birthday party for mike... so on friday morning she got him out of the house to go meet with people at some projects they and a group of people from canada support. success! he was gone, and dan and lauren had covertly hired a few kenyan women to come and cook a feast for the 40 or so children that would be arriving around noon at the house.
at 9am, ina, michele, lauren and i went out to the side of the house where mark and derek (the newest TI staff members), had built 3 traditional kenyan firepits the day before. basically, just imagine three huge rocks in a triangle with space between them to build a medium sized campfire. on top of each of those, an army sized pot to hold cabbage (that we cut), tomatoes (that we boiled and then sliced), and a huge amount of meat and potatoes. most of the time michele and i didnt know what the crap we were doing, and the cooks corrected us, but we had a successful experience. along with all that was enough chapati (really thick flour tortillas) for the 40+ people.
it was alot of food.
the food was prepared and cooked for 3 hours and then the kids arrived. shortly afterwards, mike came back to the house and was thrilled that most of the kids from their projects had come to surprise him. he had no clue, so manon was pleased that the party was a success. the rest of the day was filled with laughter and games and pictures... and of course the eating of the food.
the kids loved the nailpolish i brought with me. ina and i painted toes and fingers for a good hour before the two bottles of polish id brought out were gone. they were such a hit. even some of the adult women asked for me to paint their nails... i hear the nailpolish will be an equally fantastic hit with the older kids as well as the young ones we saw at the party.
Monday, January 12, 2009
boda boda
on the way back to town from the neema girls' project, i had my first boda boda ride.
a boda boda is a bicycle taxi... basically in the states it'd be the equivalent of an older schwinn bicycle with a metal rack on the back... only these metal racks are about 20 inches long (if that), and are welded onto the bicycle so they can hold the weight of a human being.
the bikes are seriously so funny... most of them have what i can only describe as little padded skirts coming off the back of their passenger seat racks, and normally a saying like "god loves" or something religiously cheesy is scrawled in permanent marker on the sides of the seat skirt.
seriously, they need all the Jesus they can get when driving on these roads... good LORD it's chaotic and dangerous.
before i left the states, i was telling my sisters and daniel's family that as id heard the stories from here, there were a few things i would not be offended by in africa, and was going to prepare myself for. most were about the boda rides.
my "i will not be offended IF..." list was as follows:
- if... kenyans call me fat... because i am, and because to them, it is a compliment
- if... a boda driver tells me he wants double the shillings to ride my butt two miles across unsmooth dirt and hilly ground... cuz seriously, i'd demand double to carry an amazonian white girl on the back of my bicycle, too
- if... after receiving double the payment for riding me on his bike, the kenyan man half my size decides to make me walk up a hill rather than attempt to ride me... cuz thats just being smart, and i admire good sense in a man
- if... after watching me trudge up the hill after him and his bicycle, he changes his mind about riding me the rest of the way and just runs away with my money... nope. i wont mind.
- if... it's like a relay race to get me where i need to go. i wont mind... itll be more adventurous and the stories will be better
so these are all the things i'd thought about my boda boda ride BEFORE coming to africa... and i was quite intrigued to see if any would come true.
none did. it was so much better than i couldve dreamed up.
i got on the boda with the biggest beefiest driver (probably 170 lbs... if that), and i hiked my skirt up between and around my legs, as we took off and daniel told his boda "follow her" (bodas have tried to run off with white girls who didnt know where they were going, before). i still didnt know the middle of a forest from the road to the compound at that point... so dan made sure i got where i was going.
staying on the bike was fine... ive got good balance. i just wanted to laugh so hard, though. the following story shouldve been embarrassing, but it wasnt. it's just part of the experience here.
other bodas would be passing us, and my driver was huffing and puffing like his life depended on it. the comments (which i'm sure were ones of pity) from the other drivers and their passengers, as well as the kenyans who stopped on the side of the road to watch him ride me by, were enough to keep him going i guess. i felt sorry for him on some uphill parts, so i said "sawa.. sawa" in swahili with means "good... good". it was all i could do to apologize for the fact that he probably wouldnt be able to ride anyone for like a day. i'm sure i broke his legs.
he was a celebrity for that 5 minute one mile bike ride... though what can i say? i live to promote the kenyan celebrity of those who taxi me around when its too far for me to walk, or too hot to make the effort.
oh... and in case youre wondering, i paid him 20 shillings... which is like 25 cents.
a boda boda is a bicycle taxi... basically in the states it'd be the equivalent of an older schwinn bicycle with a metal rack on the back... only these metal racks are about 20 inches long (if that), and are welded onto the bicycle so they can hold the weight of a human being.
the bikes are seriously so funny... most of them have what i can only describe as little padded skirts coming off the back of their passenger seat racks, and normally a saying like "god loves" or something religiously cheesy is scrawled in permanent marker on the sides of the seat skirt.
seriously, they need all the Jesus they can get when driving on these roads... good LORD it's chaotic and dangerous.
before i left the states, i was telling my sisters and daniel's family that as id heard the stories from here, there were a few things i would not be offended by in africa, and was going to prepare myself for. most were about the boda rides.
my "i will not be offended IF..." list was as follows:
- if... kenyans call me fat... because i am, and because to them, it is a compliment
- if... a boda driver tells me he wants double the shillings to ride my butt two miles across unsmooth dirt and hilly ground... cuz seriously, i'd demand double to carry an amazonian white girl on the back of my bicycle, too
- if... after receiving double the payment for riding me on his bike, the kenyan man half my size decides to make me walk up a hill rather than attempt to ride me... cuz thats just being smart, and i admire good sense in a man
- if... after watching me trudge up the hill after him and his bicycle, he changes his mind about riding me the rest of the way and just runs away with my money... nope. i wont mind.
- if... it's like a relay race to get me where i need to go. i wont mind... itll be more adventurous and the stories will be better
so these are all the things i'd thought about my boda boda ride BEFORE coming to africa... and i was quite intrigued to see if any would come true.
none did. it was so much better than i couldve dreamed up.
i got on the boda with the biggest beefiest driver (probably 170 lbs... if that), and i hiked my skirt up between and around my legs, as we took off and daniel told his boda "follow her" (bodas have tried to run off with white girls who didnt know where they were going, before). i still didnt know the middle of a forest from the road to the compound at that point... so dan made sure i got where i was going.
staying on the bike was fine... ive got good balance. i just wanted to laugh so hard, though. the following story shouldve been embarrassing, but it wasnt. it's just part of the experience here.
other bodas would be passing us, and my driver was huffing and puffing like his life depended on it. the comments (which i'm sure were ones of pity) from the other drivers and their passengers, as well as the kenyans who stopped on the side of the road to watch him ride me by, were enough to keep him going i guess. i felt sorry for him on some uphill parts, so i said "sawa.. sawa" in swahili with means "good... good". it was all i could do to apologize for the fact that he probably wouldnt be able to ride anyone for like a day. i'm sure i broke his legs.
he was a celebrity for that 5 minute one mile bike ride... though what can i say? i live to promote the kenyan celebrity of those who taxi me around when its too far for me to walk, or too hot to make the effort.
oh... and in case youre wondering, i paid him 20 shillings... which is like 25 cents.
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