Odds and Ends 3
• Today I watched Judge Hatchett, that fantastic American court show featuring some of the craziest of our society’s crazies, in a Swahili canteen along with a group of equally engrossed Kenyans. I couldn’t help but notice the time—3PM—which was around the same time I would watch that exact show, or other court shows like it, with my grandmother in America when I was in high school. Small world.
• Yesterday, Matteo ordered a hamburger for lunch. When his meal arrived, he was puzzled by the unrecognizable food on his plate and asked the waiter, “What is this?” The waiter pointed to the food’s pink portion and replied, “That’s the ham.”
(I’ll give you a moment to let that one sink in.)
Then, pointing to the gray-yellow-orange patty underneath, Matteo asked, “And this?” “The burger,” said the waiter. Silence. “We use minced meat,” he added helpfully. (Note he didn’t say “minced beef.” Which, considering its fishy aftertaste, it definitely wasn’t.) And that “hamburger” tasted exactly how you imagine it would—terrible.
• As in India, I continue to have communication problems in Kenya because of my accent. A while ago, over the course of two days, Matteo and I visited the Mnarani and Gede ruins, which feature the remains of ancient Swahili settlements. (Mnarani was overpriced and not so interesting; Gede, with its many mosques and “palace” set in a forest, was much more enjoyable.) We couldn’t ask directions for the ruins by asking for them by that name, though. Rather, people met our inquiries with blank stares until Matteo wisely began asking for the location of the “rrrueEnzz.”
• There is a street in Watamu named “New Bla Bla Bla Road 2000.” It was originally an informal name that someone had graffiti’d across a street wall, but now it’s been officially recognized with a carved plaque.
• Since we’ve been traveling, Matteo and I have been “husband” and “wife” to avoid the endless misunderstandings about what our years-long “dating” relationship means. But maybe there continue to be more misunderstandings about our status than what I thought. The other day, while Matteo was out, I struck up a conversation with a Kenyan man. We discussed very platonic topics – sports, traveling in Africa— and I peppered my speech with “My husband…” He, in turn, asked a few questions about Matteo— “Your husband is…?” etc.
Then the man asked, “Do you have any kids?” So many Kenyans (and Indians and Malaysians before them) asked me that question that I had a ready response: “No—not yet.” Then: “Does your husband have any kids?” I laughed at his question and said, “I certainly hope not!” The man looked confused by my answer and asked “Why not?” I gave him a look. Understanding slowly crept across his face. “Wait,” he said, “you’re married?”
Tags: Kenya, Odds and Ends
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