We started back to Nairobi today after breakfast. The ride seemed much quicker; although, I am sure it would have been even faster had we drove on the road and not in the ditch. I guess we paid for a safari so they didn't want to disappoint. I totally am in need of a chiropractor to solve the jarred-spine-in-the-back-of-a-cramped van syndrome that this trip has spurred.
Being an ex-pat here would be a challenge. We saw their homes on the outskirts of Nairobi on the way back into the city. They were mansions looming in the horizon that couldn’t be overlooked. I understand why they were created – cheap labor, land costs next to nothing, incentive to come live here, et cetera. However, I can’t help but think how insensitive that is when people here are literally struggling to survive with next to nothing. I can’t help but think that this blatant extravagance must foster some sense of resentment and anger amongst the locals. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think the ex-pats are to blame, they don’t pick where they live, but I couldn’t do it.
About 10 minutes from home we came across a huge mass of people and vehicles spread all over the main road. It looked like we were about to go past a huge accident. Like normal, we saw some bodies riddled with bullets on the road, cops with guns and people standing staring. Through the grapevine we learned that some known thieves were spotted on a matatu (taxi van) and a police officer was forced to open fire, shooting point blank, while others sat stunned.
At the start of the year thieves and police were working together, allegedly, spotting possible targets in the van at road blocks and alerting thieves to get onboard and work their magic a little further down the road. About a month before we got there the thieves got into a dispute with the police and killed two officers. After that the police have been retaliating without mercy, dragging known thieves off matatus and shooting them execution style on the side of the highway to stand as an example for all who see them.
Kenyans don’t fear death. They talk about it as though it were an everyday occurrence for us as well. I’m not used to seeing death up-close, and I don’t think it’s something I can get used to. I have now seen more dead bodies live and in person than I have in my whole life, including at funeral homes. It’s shocking and disheartening, yet I feel myself growing stronger through these experiences. I certainly won’t forget how fragile life is.
Sally, another volunteer, is spending the day with us at the Cyber Cafe. It takes forever to respond to emails and even more time to blog. You literally have to square away two hours to get anything accomplished. Sorry if I don't get back to you but this is totally why. It is great getting emails from you and I look forward to that. Thanks for your support! On the way here we decided to take a shortcut through the slums. I have no idea why I thought it would be better to walk in human feces versus walking ten extra minutes to bypass it, but I did. We were stopped half way through by a man who claimed that the reason Kenyans love foreigners is because we give great "donations" and he would be willing to take one from us. I look forward to being seen as a person and not as a bank machine anymore. Unfortunately, I have run into that problem with a lady in the program. She will conveniently forget to bring money to the internet cafe or borrow money that she has no intent to pay back. I understand that I have money and that a dollar here and there is not going to break the bank, but the principal of the issue is that you don't treat people like an ATM. I was planning on leaving her a thank you present but I figure she has already received it inadvertently. You really have to be on your guard here with everyone, which is too bad because there really are some wonderful people here.
Everything in Kenya is relative. For example, that hotel is pretty good, for Kenya. This food is awesome, for Kenya. At home both things would be less than desirable, but here they are like heaven. We begin to think in relative terms for nearly everything.
I fear getting my pictures developed because Kenyans take bad photos. I have point-and-click camera so I can’t delete, or see, the pictures they were kind enough to take. Even after 10 this-is-how-you-do-it lessons they still don’t get it. They love to put their fingers over the lens or the flash. They also like to not look through the picture finder, instead holding the camera at arms length away and guessing if we’re in focus and centered. It’s like photo Russian roulette. I fear I’ll lose.
No comments:
Post a Comment