tandoori turkey

okay. so we've still got no government. but that's not really interfering with nothing get accomplished anyway.

so i've been shamefully delinquent (or so i've been told) about updating my blog.

first, let's bring it back to a little election day madness. got to go out to maasai land and talk to some of those who were voting. most were illiterate and had to let the presiding officer know how you wanted to cast your ballot (although, i thought that was why they had oranges "no" and bananas "yes" on the ballot - to distinguish who you were voting for if you were, indeed, illiterate). afterwards, you had to stick your pinky in ink - that's the brilliant way of ensuring that you're not going to vote again (i guess they don't think that turpentine is readily available). but it was really interesting - it's kenya's first ever-referendum. and you've got to remember that a mere three years ago, this country was run by a lunatic dictator who'd been in office for more than a quarter of a century. there was even a law on the books that you could be sentenced to death for treason if you IMAGINED the death of the president. so it's incredibly moving to see kenyans so politically engaged and voting (better turnout here than in the grand old us of a but that's not hard to imagine, right?).

when ballot counting started (they did it by hand and honestly - the results were official the next day at noon - just as fast as our own computerized method), i was witness to a riot in the slums. a man with a lorry full of chairs for all the ballot counters came into the precinct area (where hundreds were peering through windows, watching polling agents count votes by kerosene lamp - very enchanting in an emerging democracy kind of way) but onlookers thought that he was bringing in ballot boxes and trying to rig the vote. they went ballistic -- tore the door right off the truck and began pelting stones every which way. the driver scrambled to safety -- a huge gash in his head, limbs swollen with bruises and cut by barbed wire - which encased the precinct area - which is actually an elementary school. when a red cross ambulance tried to take this man away to get treatment at a hospital before he bled to death, they refused to allow it admittance. i don't know how long he ended up being a prisoner in one of the polling stations. i couldn't stay - had to file.

since then all the drama that i mentioned in the last post has ensued.

so a few people have asked me with thanksgiving was like in kenya - non-existent. i mean, these people have enough genocide on their continent to worry about instead of celebrating our own. but had a nice dinner with a group of ex-pats -- all seven tolerable ones in kenya. we ate indian food - tandoori turkey. actually, there was no turkey, and no tandoori (i hate it, i think it's the corny/lame way to eat indian food, if i'm honest). afterwards went out for drinks with dreamy/hunky radio correspondent from north carolina. he's too young - makes me feel like a pedophile, but i enjoy his company.

this weekend went to a rally -- celebrators were throwing stones at the press because we were standing beneath the stage and they couldn't see through us. always a good time. my friend got cut on the forehead - blood pouring down her face - but we soon scrambled up onto the stage. it kills me how accessible everyone is here -- politico-wise. i was literally five feet away from the opposition leaders - the equivalent of kenya's tom cruise and katie holmes - and they were smiling and joking with me. you can call the vice president on his cell phone and he'll talk to you. i mean, it's unreal. wish politics were this open in the states.

so here's the best news - and then i've got to get out of here for a haircut (where's raven?) and a press conference about ivory poachers - i've got grant money to stay in kenya through the end of january. and money to fund reporting expenses on whatever stories i want to do (pending professorial approval, of course) about migration across borders in africa! i'm trying to get myself over to somalia and eastern Congo and down to South Africa. and of course, i'll be heading to Cairo to see my dear friend andrew and visit my sister who'll be on a dig there in january.

anybody want to find out if they know it's xmas-time at all here?

elections, rejections, ejections

i've been quite busy this week covering kenya's referendum:

basically, kenyans rejected a proposed draft of the constitution in the first change to the country's charter since the brits magnaminously decided to return the country to the kenyans. the prez was humiliated since he backed the referendum (while it only lost by a million votes, he only carried one of the country's eight provinces) and the results have been interpreted as a vote of no confidence in his ability to rule the country. so yesterday, less than 24 hours after the official results were announced, he sacked his entire cabinet. and today, the leaders of the opposition called for the dissolution of parliament. and he just, as i write this, suspended parliament. i'm living in a country with no functional government. i might as well be in somalia.

duty calls.

going postal

so i've finally found myself a local.

bar, that is. it's actually at the ethiopian restaurant. i should qualify that by saying that there have been times when i've found myself there and nothing terrible has ensued. but yes, outdoor tables with canopies, bonfires all around, cuddly kittens prowling the premises, and the most delicious food and alcohol -- all for mere pennies. not to mention, the guys that work there have become quite fond of me but i haven't hard to ward off any marriage proposals yet (though, i'm pretty sure i can count on one or two before december 11).

i love apple. well, not the computers. but i-pods. more specifically, the warranty. my i-pod died as soon as i boarded the plane to kenya (very convenient, no?) after i fried the battery futzing with adapters and converters in the whirlwind two weeks of booze that was paris. so i sent it to my parents who sent it back to apple and they sent me a new one - on the house.

actually retrieving it from the post office, however, was another story. the kenyan post office is responsible for the deforestation of many many forests, i'm sure. you go to retrieve your package, which you have to open in front of the postal employees so they can write the contents down on your package notice. afterwards, you approach the customs window, where you pay duty tariffs. then you approach another window, where you pay local handling tariffs. then you go back to retrieve your package and stop at yet another window where they write down all of your information and issue you about three different slips. this should only take 45 minutes if it is all running smoothly. however, most of the time, the postal employee observing what you've received doesn't actually know the correct customs fee and you're sent wandering through a maze of corridors and offices to find a customs officer who will make up a figure on the spot, but only after they've finished their half-hour phone conversation with their mother.

this was, however, not the case with the illustrious, shiny new i-pod. since i sent it out of the country for repairs, they insisted that i must have a receipt before i actually could take it home with me or that i pay some ridiculous tax of more than 10,000 shillings (that's over 100 bucks, folks, and as much as i love my ipod, i sure don't love it that much).

i said to the infamous customs officer after he finally extracted himself from a phone call with his tractor mechanic that i refused to pay such a fee, that i didn't know that i needed to keep the receipt from mailing the damn thing home (i threw it out as soon as i heard it had arrived safely) and that if that was going to be the case they could send it back and pay for the return shipping.

the postal customs officer literally looks at the woman in the international receiving department and said, no joke, "she's been in the country too long. we're not going to be able to get any money out of this one."

this morning, get a frenzied call from my boss. his gardener had called and said that his dog, pasca, was sick and could i go over and see what's wrong with him because he couldn't really understand what moses was trying to tell him. i arrive at his home and find the dog dehydrated, starving and whimpering.

i take pasca to the vet where i'm informed that the poor canine has the african equivalent of lyme's disease. i've got to go and pick up this beast tonight, and here's the kicker: it has to come home with me because i need to be giving it iron injections to boost its appetite and make sure that it doesn't start vomiting up whatever food it's taken (if i can find some damn dog food at the supermarket -- shouldn't be hard: they sell grass seed, patio furniture, pineapples and lawnmowers there too).

and then, some more laundry in the bathtub. did i ever mention that laundry detergent here is actually all-purpose cleaner? on the label, it actually recommends that you mop your floors with the remaining suds after you've scoured your fingers to blistering trying to get this red dirt out of your clothes.

maybe tomorrow i'll get some reporting done.

steve-o and the jackass

just back from a long weekend jam-packed with wildlife, whiskey and wheeling around the countryside.

began with the ostrich breeders. unfortunately, it was pouring (it is the rainy season after all) so we weren't allowed to ride the ostrich b/c the ground was too slippery (boy, was it -- my first foray down a muddy dirt path behind the wheel. quite fun. especially in a sedan that's quite low to the ground). but saw some ostriches in heat. they're awful ugly to begin with but when they're red and swollen, they're fully grotesque. you've heard of blue balls - well, this was red vulva.

saturday we spent at lake nakuru before having dinner at one of my kenyan friend's homes. lake nakuru is two and a half hours drive - only 180 km but the road is the worst road in all of kenya. steve had a true introduction to african infrastructure. we saw miles and miles of flamingos along the lakeshores and lots of other wildlife. at one point, steve barrelled out of the car to grab a closer look/picture of the flamingos and peter and i were in the car screaming after him to come back before the nearby buffalo started charging him.

dinner that evening was lovely - we supped at a former christian science monitor correspondent's house. he lives in karen south with all the MPs. at one point, i started talking poorly of the country's information minister and he told me to speak quieter because he lived next door. they put out this incredible spread and i reluctantly ate matumbo - goat entrails sausage. it was edible, but a little strong for my taste.

sunday we went to nairobi national park and while we didn't see lions (too late in the day) or hippos, we saw tons else. we had lunch and drinks with my coworkers the rest of the afternoon before heading to carnivore -- literally the finest restaurant in sub-saharan africa. we feasted on ostrich meatballs, camel, crocodile, and other various game meats. they come to your table all evening with various grilled meats until you turn your white flag over in surrender.

yesterday... ah yesterday. started the day at the giraffe center where we fed and frolicked with the creatures before heading across the street to hike a nature trail. where, of course, we got lost. under the midday equatorial sun. i thought i was going to die, either of thirst or heatstroke.

when we finally emerged, we headed to kibera. quite a sobering experience. interesting to see the way the people there reacted to steve and me. they were much friendlier and open to me. we were talking to my friend about it and he basically said that the color of steve's skin trumped his american heritage.

afterwards steve headed to the UN to visit greg - quite a contrast. africa's largest slum compared to africa's greatest excess (no, no, no -- i'll never stop slamming these pompous fucks).

so, i'm driving back on my way from dropping steve off and managed to get into a bit of a fender bender - yes, again. mind you, neither of these incidents has been my fault even if i have only been driving a stick for less than a month.

a matatu literally backed up into me while i'm getting ready to merge into traffic. sigh. the cop was on the scene already -- trying to ease the flow of traffic (HA!) -- and confiscated the matatu driver's keys until we could come to an understanding. and that was the end of the police officer's involvement until he returned twenty minutes later to ask if the driver had accepted responsibility, which he did, and returned his keys. remind me never to buy insurance if i live here. seems like a waste of money.

so i go with my friend to sign the agreement (literally a sheet of paper in my reporter's notebook that will hold up in court) where the matatu owner (who is, in actuality, an incredibly nice man from central province who wants me to come to his home for dinner next week) agrees to pay for the damages -- not that it would have mattered if i'd had to pay out of pocket. To take this massive dent out of the car and get it repainted good as new would have run me about thirty bucks? i got my lights adjusted for a big fat four dollars while i was there today... but i digress.

as we're driving to meet the matatu owner to make the contract and for him to assess the damage, we're driving through the worst part of town. the worst place i've ever been in my life, and i've been to some projects in my time. my friend literally told me to lay down in the backseat and hide because if they saw a mzungu (white person) in the car, they'd swarm around it... we made arrangements to meet today and have the car repaired. the matatu tout -who accompanied me and my friend to meet the matatu owner - turned around in the middle of the ride there and said, "man, you're good. you haven't panicked at all and you're just taking it easy. i like you." sigh. it made the whole experience worthwhile.

(that deserves a whole post - how i spent a whole day at a mechanic in jua kali - the hot sun -- called that because all kinds of metal work go on there and make the place an oven -- getting my car repaired as the first mzungu customer they've ever had.)

after i get back to town in one piece yesterday, i decide to head home. i'm talking on the phone in my car to bosire, my dear colleague, telling him i'm not coming in after this adventure. literally, as i'm on the phone stalled in traffic, some guy reaches through my minimally cracked window (how his hand fit, i'm unclear) and grabs my cell phone while i'm on it - scratching my face (i've got a nice deep long cut running the length of my cheek-but it wasn't intentional on his part - just part of getting the goods).

i scream, go to the office, break into hysterics. not because i'm a baby or scared or want to go home.

but because literally within AN HOUR AND A HALF i'd gotten into a car accident with my boss's car, went to the scariest neighborhood on earth and been wounded in a phone theft. no exaggeration. was not the best afternoon.

but my colleagues were wonderful as usual. they've given me a phone temporarily and are going to buy me a replacement. everyone wanted me to spend the night at their home (they were honest to god arguing over me). and they didn't want me to get back in the car, but when i put my foot down they knew they couldn't stop me. so i drove to where i was meeting greg and steve for dinner (the notorious ethiopian restaurant where i went before the gun-toting mob came after me -- i should have known the day was going to involve some kind of life and death adventure if i had plans to go there) and calmed myself with a lot of red label.

and then i was fine. and when i got home that evening, the monkeys were waiting for me outside my balcony and when i fed them groundnuts, it made the whole day disappear.

still love that ethiopian food,

karen

karen. and no, i don't mean me.

life has been relatively peaceful in these parts - no car accidents, angry mobs of drunken children, no petrol-bombs - so i wonder what to write about...

steve arrives tomorrow after a week spent touring cairo's nightspots and fighting with the tech guy at andrew's bureau to let him access his email. am so excited for his arrival - will be good to see someone that is familiar. although greg's actually in the same place as i am, we rarely see one another.

i'm finally completing all my reporting on the ostrich racing tomorrow (yes, that was two weeks ago - but folks, it takes FOREVER and a day to get anything reported around here - it takes a mere 6-8 months before they'll even add your name to the waitlist for a landline here...) - i'm dragging steve along with me to an ostrich breeding farm where we'll lunch on big fat ostrich filets before heading back to nairobi. i'm hoping they'll let me ride one of them.

i'm dragging him off to lake nakuru (i should become a safari planner, honestly - the money's much better than journalism) where we'll stand alongside the lake gazing out onto miles and miles of flaming pink flamingos and other various wildlife (which, strangely, don't even phase me anymore).

last weekend i had a very brooklyn experience - the finnish doc and i headed to city park with a bunch of our friends and played frisbee (while everyone around looked at us as if we were completely bonkers) and drank many six-packs of beer -- it reminded me of hanging out on sunny afternoons in prospect park. except there were no monkeys nearby to frolick with back in park slope. they're so tame here - they feed from your hands and jump on your shoulders. but they're quite fond of tusker, the national brew, so you've got to be careful of your beer unless you want a small little monkey to take off with it.

also drove to karen. yes, there's a town here named karen. think isak denisien, aka karen blixen, of out of africa fame. quite strange to be in a place where your name is plastered all over the signs and stores. lush green hills towered over the valleys, peppered with victorian style farmhouses. wooden furniture craftsman lined the sides of the road, awaiting westerners to custom order cheap, expertly made pieces.

i love driving through hills, especially with a stick shift. it makes driving more adventurous (not that it really needs to be). driving has made me feel so empowered, independent. i feel like i've conquered a little bit of something while i'm waiting for my reporting legs to land solidly on the ground for more than a few moments at a time.

back on the desk, back in the driver's seat

a polio-crippled driver. a matatu full of angry commuters. a truck carrying a bunch of chickens (en route to be tested for avian flu). me.

it wasn't pretty folks. let's just say that all of us saved the government a bunch of money euthanising some of those chickens. luckily, i'm fine. my boss's car is fine. i got back in the driver's seat afterward and drove myself to work. police report, schmolice report. no one even blinked.

boss is on holiday. back on the desk. slightly relieved after yesterday's drama (not to be confused with this morning's drama mentioned above).

went to a referendum rally while political party leaders were meeting to discuss and pledge the end of violent activism (four people died in western kenya last weekend at a rally). so i'm here, throngs of people are shouting at the top of their lungs, hoisting bananas up in the air.

here's a little background: oranges mean no and bananas mean yes. people are voting on november 21 on revisions to the country's constitution and everyone's up in arms about something. it's like an anti-war protest in nyc. kenya's gonna blow up in about two weeks time and i plan to be on assignment somewhere, anywhere.

some thugs come tossing homemade petrol bombs. and no one blinks (i thought i was getting immune to the craziness here, but evidently, not so). apparently, it's normal protocol at these rallies. i scrambled out of there pretty quickly.

let's just say that i'm not eager to continue my career as a political reporter in the third world.

i'd rather camp out on the ethiopia/eritrea border and wait for war to break out there than go back to one of these silly rallies. at least with war, unless it's waged by the us, there's the pretense that you're fighting for something. i mean, christ, these people are campaigning.

ostrich racing

spent last weekend at the ngong racetrack, located at the base of kenya's glorious ngong hills, reporting the latest fad to hit kenya: ostrich racing. i can't really give this phenomenon its due credit in words (tho i'd better learn quickly as i've got to write a story about it after a trip to the ostrich breeder's tomorrow), but here's a go:

"neck to neck," "longlegs" and "beaky," the three best (only?) trained participants, seemed to be the only ostriches that weren't too ruffled by a troop of grown men chasing after them and trying to hurdle onto their backsides (which were, sadly, shaved and made them look like were saddled with genetically modified chicken skin). the rest of the pack just zig-zagged back and forth over the same three feet of race course, constantly bumping into one another and bucking off the "jockeys." the whole spectacle took much longer than the race director had intended - turning the ten minute show into a long half hour, most of which was spent shepherding the birds off the field back into their pens.

this sport has a long way to go.

i also tried to hang out with some ex-pats, too. it didn't go very well.

seems that most ex-pats hang out in their garden (b/c they're too afraid to leave the confines of their security fence), go to the mall (no, i'm not kidding) or book it out of town. or they play doubles, which was probably the most fun i've had with westerners yet because i got to zing them with tennis balls repeatedly at high speed and blame it on poor aim and lack of practice.

generally, they go to boring bars, which are exclusively ex-pat hangouts with kenyan servers (hello, neocolonialism much?), talk about the "savagery" they've witnessed (not sure whether this refers to living conditions or the people who live in these conditions), and bitch about their rival aid organizations. all the while pretending they're well adjusted and know their way around.

there are people who have been here for years who haven't spent much time with the locals or even been to a bar frequented by locals. i've been here a month and have done the lion's share of both. i just wonder how they're supposed to get to know the people and the culture that they're supposedly here to help and reform?

and let's not talk about the supposed progress i've been making on driving a manual car. it's been interesting, to say the least, and i alone am responsible for some of the worst traffic jams in the city because i still can't figure out how to not stall when i go from a full stop to accelarating...

off to eat yet more meat,
k