Day 10: They call me Wanjiku.... or Wanjiru

It was a good thing I went to breakfast early this morning because Patrick arrived at my door early. He said we had a busy day so we had to start early. A half or quarter days work in the states is a full days work in Kenya.

Mishoki drove us to Nanyuki just so that we could access an atm and then we were to take the matatu back. My classmates were making summit that morning so I snapped a picture of Mt Kenya on the way so they could see the view from the bottom while they were at the top.

In Nanyuki was maybe my first experience of feeling slightly uncomfortable. The transit area was packed and a ton of people were staring at me. Not the inquisitive, "what's this tourist doing here" look I normally got, this look was different and I wasn't sure why. I did laugh and say asante when some random guy shouted, "Hey! I like your hair!" from the crowd.

Patrick seemed a little confused and lost and this is probably why I felt a little uncomfortable, you always know when Patrick's stress levels are up. In America time is money, in Kenya time is all you have. The matatu stopped on the side of the road to pick up a bag, they then stopped for gas and to put air in the tires. Things like this would not fly at home. Nobody seems to care when they get to their destination, they only care that they get there. The roads may be at first seemingly crazy and chaotic but I'm not sure I still feel this is the case. Pedestrians, bikers, cars, trucks, buses, wagons, animals all share the road and at extremely varying speeds. Nobody honks at people to get out of the way, they just go around and pass when they can. If you're passing and there is another oncoming car they will go slow and wait for you to finish passing. They don't honk or get mad, they just let off the gas.

It's the roads themselves that are nuts, if I did change two things in Kenya the first one would be providing waste management and the second would be infrastructure. Most things then could remain the same. I think I would feel safer walking through Naro Moru by myself at night then I would certain parts of Minneapolis.

We arrived at Naro Maru and met up with Amos and Njoroge. We went to the local supermarket and loaded up three carts with goods for the families hosting us during our homestays. The food on the shelf was mostly familiar but every once and a while I would see something that would cause me to make a face and Amos would laugh.

The manager of the store heard me speaking a little Kiswahili and come over to talk more. Like others he was impressed with how much I knew and said in one month I would be fluent. I wish that I could stay here for a month, maybe more.

Njoroge was playing music on my phone and Amos asked to see the iPod that Patrick had been using the day before. Shortly thereafter other staff members were gathering around Amos and sharing the headphones. They asked me how much they could buy it for, I said mine was a gift and they could buy one at Nakkumatt.

Jack the driver arrived and greeted me like an old friend, which was kind of cool. We loaded everything into and on top of the car. Njoroge, Amos and I squeezed into the back seat and we headed down one of the bumpiest roads I've ever seen on our way to Kambi.

We arrived at Patrick's home, unloaded and sorted the goods. We then walked over to the school and on the way a few kids were walking home. Amos told me to "gota" with them so I did to one child and then every child within eyesight wanted to. After that was finally through we continued on our way. Amos lit up a cigarette and curiosity got the best of me, I asked him if I could try it. It tasted the same as at home but maybe burned slower. They thought it was hilarious that I tried it.

We approached the school and Patrick told me to say "muriega" when I arrived, I did and again everyone laughed. The head teacher had me sit in front of everyone and she introduced everyone one at a time. Patrick sat up front with me while Amos and Njoroge sat in the back. The head teacher talked to me about the school a little bit and then we were off again.

We headed back to Patrick's home. Njoroge and I joked around about this and that along the way which helped me ignore the fact that my knees were killing me. The homestay families had arrived to pick up the supplies they needed and join us for lunch. It was a lot of people and I fell shy which I think Amos noticed because he made sure to sit next to me at the table. Patrick made a point to tell me that we would eat with our hands, he must have noticed I eat nothing with my hands, especially in Kenya. He offered to get me silverware if I wasn't okay with it but I told him it was fine. I ate with my hands and sat fairly quietly while everyone either talked or starred at me. We finished eating and took some pictures before we were headed back to town.

We walked down to one of the main roads. A car was there and Patrick told me to get it. There were already people in the car and I asked if we were all going to fit, he claimed we would. The car was much like an old hatchback ford escort, there were already three people in the two front seats and two in the back seat. Luckily Amos was skinny enough and squeezed into the back seat with me while Patrick and Njoroge sat in the trunk. The ride was cozy to say the least but I still spent most of the ride looking out the window at the beautiful scenery.

We finally arrived in Naro Maru and we quickly jumped out of the overloaded taxi. As we did someone on the street yelled out a phrase that ended with Wanjiku. Amos got a grin on his face and I asked him what that was. He said I had been given a Kikuyu name because I was taking the public transit and I'm not officially a Kenyan. At Bantu they had already given me the Kikuyu name Wanjiru which I was told meant 'black beauty' so I asked Amos what Wanjiku meant. He said it was just a Kikuyu common name that didn't really have a meaning. I loved it!

Amos's wife worked at a beauty salon and wanted to braid my hair so we were on our way to do that. It felt funny having guys take me to get my hair done but I figured it had to be somewhat normal. I went in and you could see the excitement on their faces, they had never done a white person's hair before. I went into the back room and sat in a patio chair in front of a mirror. Njoroge and Patrick sat to watch and I'm guessing Amos was out for some "fresh air."

She asked me how I wanted my hair and I really didn't know. She decided to do "lines" which meant multiple tiny french braids. She started and at first the pulling was kind of hard but I got used to it quickly. After a few were done I realized she was planning on doing my entire head. I freaked out a little and told her I couldn't do that because of sunburn in addition to the fact that I would like to be able to put my hair in a ponytail. So she put three on the right side and a fancy one on the left side. She then wanted to blow dry my hair also. Patrick said something to her in Kiswahili and she replied with the word soft. I'm thinking he asked what my hair felt like. A little girl also showed up and felt my hair for about two minutes. She thought it was funny. Patrick and Njoroge took pictures and then Amos showed up again.
We finished up and I paid and tipped her, which she seemed surprised about. (I later found out it's not common to tip your hair stylist in Kenya.) All the guys said it looked good and we headed back to the office. It seemed like everyone was tired so I took everyone out for coffee. My tummy, which had been missing home a little, was very happy to see pancakes on the menu. Patrick quickly ordered me one and it was good!! Another porter who had been around the day I got off the mountain joined us, we sat, laughed and took a few pictures.
After coffee I hopped into a taxi and went back to the lodge which was a fairly typical night except two ladies joined me at my dinner table asking me questions about the states and what I thought of Kenya. After dinner I made s'mores with Steven, Evling and Cargo (another chef) who wanted to learn how they were made.