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Published: February 24th 2007
Today is Chelly's 24th birthday, and it also marks the end of our first full month in Kenya. It's hard to believe that we arrived all the way back on January 24th, with a little money in our pockets and a lot of hope. The place looked beautiful then, but a little scary for me. Now I feel like I've been here forever--and the family is really helping me to belong--but most of our hopes have been dashed and we're dead broke. It's still beautiful here, and the future's still scary.
Birthdays I suppose that everyone on Earth will someday have to give in and admit that Chelly and I make an adorable couple. One of the cute little things we've got is birthdays less than a week apart. Mine was on Sunday the 18th, and hers is today, the 24th. Though all the cousins and brothers and sisters are having to tell her "Happy Birthday" again today, they did the real congratulation last week at our party.
It might have been the biggest birthday party I've ever had, but that wasn't what made it so different. It was also the first birthday that I can remember
celebrating during the daylight. On top of that, the place was crawling with adorable little nieces and nephews and cousins (one of whom very sweetly squatted and peed in the middle of the floor--oh well, she's barely two). I was also exposed to some fresh customs, like devoting an
entire day to being told "Happy Birthday", eating a celebratory meal in a seperate room from the kids and ladies, and having to hand-feed nearly everyone at the party a piece of cake. There was also a lot that didn't seem new at all: the women spent all morning packed together in a room preparing huge batches of food, the men sat outside in the shade evading all that estrogen, the kids just ran wild.
Another thing that stands-out about this party was that almost all these people were related. Maybe 50 of them. Family.
Family I heard all the stories in Thailand and I knew I was getting myself into a large family group. But then we showed up and it expanded rapidly. It seems Chelly didn't know about so-and-so's new wife or the other guy's new kid. There were also dozens of uncles and aunts
and all their kids--more than my mind could really catch up with.
But this family is in no way unique in their size. It seems that all the African families are huge. In fact, one of the guys told me that their family of seven siblings was considered small in comparison to the many 10, 13, and even 15-member families runnin' around out here. I always wished for a big, close family--now I've clearly found it.
Eating The family thing is really fantastic too, because everyone helps each other out. What a luxury for a 20-something working stiff to come home and see that his sister or aunt have already fixed dinner. How great to see cousins and younger brothers watching your kids so that you can rest a minute. How wonderful to live just minutes away from your parents, your cousins, and your brothers and sisters with their own families.
My favorite part is the coming home to dinner part. These African ladies always make sure to have a meal ready, for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It isn't the most amazing food in the world, but somehow it always tastes like it is.
I've been getting used to a lot of Kenyan staple foods, like Ugali (similar to Polenta) and Chapati (or "LPs", a type of Indian bread that the Indian's usually call Paratha and is far more popular here than in India). The food is mostly starches, which worried my dietary-sense, but somehow my energy is great and I'm actually getting into better shape. The answer could be in the sheer quantity of cooked greens, or in the excellent lean meats (fish, chicken, and goat) that are occassionally thrown-in. I've had some painful cravings for nachos and bacon-burgers, but that lentil-stew feels just as good going down.
Hopes and Visas So, I've mentioned that we came into Kenya with a lot of hopes. Specifically, those hopes pertained to our original plan to visit Greece and Germany together and then continue to the U.S.A. All this was contingent on a couple of visas.
Our first big project when we got here was getting the visa for Europe. Both Greece and Germany are signees of the Schengen Accord, which allows travel within 15 EU countries on just one visa. We figured Germany would be easy, since Chelly had friends there
inviting us and they had a consulate in Mombasa. When the "friends" refused to send us an invitation letter, we had to drop that idea.
Now all we had was Greece. With only an honorary consulate in Mombasa, we were merely able to pick-up the requirements list and a blank application. The actual interviews would have to be done in Nairobi. We spent a couple weeks researching, typing, and supplementing this application with photocopied passports, airplane and hotel reservations, and some pricey travel insurance.
On top of this, we also had to create an application for the U.S. Sadly, they had no office at all in Mombasa and their web page was crap, with no decent reccomendations for what to bring to the visa interview other than fee-money and a filled-out application. Add to that our inability to get a phone call or a fax through to them--you can see some difficulties building. What we did was research as much as we could online and take a chance on the documents.
Helping us with all this research and document-gathering was a friend of Chelly's named Steve; he'd had some experience with this stuff in the past.
Exercise Steve is a Rastafarian and an Acrobat. He was in Thailand with the girls for their first 9 months, while his sister Christine was living with Chelly and he was working in a show at a different zoo near Chonburi. His acrobatic work and his acrobat family have also taken him all around Europe for jobs and visits. That much travel and that many visas in the passport have made him a local expert on visa apps, and all the close friends and family are using his help when they do them.
Steve's acrobatic career has also made him an expert on fitness. In fact, I was surprised and excited to find out, his real focus is holistic-fitness. He's even got a home-made gym in the backyard where he mixes gymnastics with freeweights and calisthenic work. The first time I went over there to spend hours trying new exercises and discussing fitness/training skills, I felt I'd found a kindred spirit.
Steve isn't the only one into fitness, though--he's just got the best ideas. Actually, most of the men in Chelly's family-and-friends circle are into athletics. They've got some home-made bar bells on the roof, they
like to exercise on the beach around dawn, and they even have a football club that practices in the evenings.
I've seen the beach workouts more than a few times, played around with the football club, thrown those weights up in the air. I've done training sessions with grade-school kids and been nearly swept-away swimming the channel. I've used pretty much every piece of scratch-built gear that Steve has--and taught his guys a few new exercises to do with it. Long story short, I've had no trouble keeping in shape.
Broke and Borrowing If only I could be getting paid for all that hard work.
Chelly and I knew times would be tight when we left Thailand. We managed to spend only $300 in nearly a month of touring India. But then the shit hit the fan and we dropped our last grand on tickets to Kenya. Our very last dollar disappeared on a hunk of BBQ meat in Nairobi minutes after purchasing the bus ticket to Mombasa on our first day in the country.
Yes, that means we've had exactly one month without any money of our own. We have survived by borrowing.
The daily spending cash for Matatu rides, phone calls, and snacks have come from Chelly's Mom. The extra money for occassional browsing time and long-distance calls has come from her Auntie. The money for travel insurance and visa application fees has come from my parents. Our two expensive field trips to Nairobi to deal with embassies have been financed by scraping together loans from all these resources, and asking friends in the capitol for help.
People here struggle to make $150 a month at work, and a lot of them don't even have jobs. Clearly, this financial predicament cannot last.
Racism and Tribalism The worst thing about being broke is being treated like you're rich. For me, this treatment is based solely on race. I don't know anywhere other than Africa where a man can go out without shoes or shirt, with bad tattoos and shaggy hair hanging in his face, no shave, a wicked sunburn, tattered shorts, and still be treated like he's got money to burn--just because he's white.
The worst one happened just today. I went down to the end of the street to buy a pineapple from the street vendor. Pineapples
are in season now and it should have only cost me 30 shillings (about 50 cents). When I asked for the price the guy told me, "100". I handed the money to Chelly's cousin Patience and they even gave her the same price. I asked the guys why they would charge this girl so much and one of them said, "this lady is very wealthy". I live with her, so trust me: she's not. She's 17, living on child support with her Mom and two sisters. The other 3 roommates pay the rent. Finally he came down to 80 for her, but smiled cruelly when I asked him why he charges a different price for whites than he does for locals.
I can complain a lot about that, but it's life. I am forced to hear the word, "Mzungo!" shouted everywhere I go (it means 'whitey'), but the Europeans have called them worse words. They don't even feel it to be offensive really--it's just part of the Kenyan notion of race.
In Kenya, people come in different colors and shapes, and they are always judged based on that, though usually not that alone. Kenyans ascribe certain attitudes and
behaviors to the Arabs (remnants of medieval conquerors and slave-traders), others to the Indians (leftover from the British Empire), or to the Mzungo (mostly British-descended or Euro tourists). They even use powerful stereotypes and profiles when judging one another. There are 46 tribes here in Kenya, plus loads of Somalian refugees, Ugandan and Tanzanian immigrants, and others here for business or pleasure. The Kenyans can tell all these people apart on skin tone, facial features, and accent, and for every one of these people, there is a powerful stereotype.
I've been told never to trust a Nigerian or a Somali. I've also heard that the Lua women are ugly and the Taita women beautiful. The Masai are widely respected. The ones who get the worst rap are the Kikuyu. Kikuyu live in Nairobi and the Capitol province. They run Kenyan politics. They are spoken of as theives and money-grubbers. I even had guys in Cambodia tell me to stay away from those gold-digging Kikuyu women.
I don't know about all that judging. I've so far made friends from Nigeria, had great times with the Somalis, and met a man who claims to have a lovely Lua wife. I
even made a good friend in Nairobi who is Kikuyu, but the guys who tried to rip me off today at the fruit stand were Kikuyu also...
Embassies Maybe the strongest feelings of racism have come from the embassies. I don't have time to write all the stories now, but they were mostly frustrating and sad and even soul-crushing.
After over two weeks of repeated phone calls and visits to the Embassy of Greece, we were finally given the brush-off on Thursday by a high-pants-wearing, silly ponytail, lispy Greek. He stood in the doorway like Alice's White Rabbit, ready to run. I told him that we'd spent a lot of money planning a very big trip to Greece and we would really appreciate a conclusive answer about Chelly's visa and some advice on securing it. He said, "that's all very well, but..." and pointed at her as if to indicate that an African was really the wrong person to try bringing to Greece. Then he ducked inside and left us standing in awe.
The American Embassy was the worst, though. We made three visits to their assembly-line visa office and witnessed hundreds of Kenyans denied
visas quickly and rudely and for little apparent reason. We learned that under American law it is the responsibility of the visa applicant to prove beyond reasonable doubt that they are not an illegal immigrant, before being allowed even a week's visit to the country (this law does not apply to Canadians, Japanese, or Europeans of course). I actually got into a fight with an embassy officer on our first visit because they turned Chelly away for a problem with her
picture. It was two weeks before we had the money to return and have that same officer deny Chelly's visa without even giving her a chance to hand him the packet of evidence we'd spent a month preparing.
It took three visits to have our evidence looked at and to get more than a minute-long interview. This time we were lucky to speak to someone froim management (sent downstairs to help because of a personnell shortage). He straightened us out on why it would be impossible for Chelly to ever get a tourist visa to the U.S., and he gave us some advice on how to proceed. He told us conclusively that she would never get to the
U.S. as a tourist, but that we had a very good chance of recieving a K-1 Fiance Visa if we would apply for one.
Engagements And I suppose that brings me to the biggest news of this blog: Chelly and I are engaged.
It's nothing formal now. I asked her to marry me a couple weeks ago and she said yes. We've told our parents and left hints for our friends. We owned-up to the embassy officer when he pried. He says we should make it formal--and do it right.
I want to marry this girl, and I've never felt that--even remotely--about any girl I've ever met. She has an amazing soul. She's beautiful (some have called her "stunning"). She's practical and independent and resourceful. We agree on how we should live, how the world should be, how to care for one another, even how to raise kids.
For the last few days I've been telling her the same thing everytime I see her face, "I love you and want to make you my wife."
The Future So I guess the next step is to arrange a formal engagement and apply
for that Fiance Visa. We'll also have to find jobs. I will be going to Greece for a couple weeks to see my parents, but I will come back to Kenya after that and stay here as long as it takes.
Engagement rings are cheap here and the family would love to throw us another big party. There is a lot of paperwork for getting a fiance into the U.S., but it's supposed to be a lot easier than bringing a girlfriend or even a wife. It will take time, and so we've got to be earning money. Chelly's heard some things about secretary positions and posts at the national parks. I've had an offer from a safari company and our family friend Ty Clark knows a guy here with a seed company.
But the biggest job for both of us will be figuring out how to be good husband and a good wife. I guess that's the scary part.
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Edmund
non-member comment
Congrats!!
Congrats on the engagement. Chelly seems to be a wonderfull soul. Keep your head up on the money and visa situations...things will come around. Your writing contiunes to keep me interested in your long journey.. Cheers!