Mombasa

Week five

How odd, yet unusually gratifying - I have established myself as a mazungu resident, comfortably recognized not only by my white skin, but also as a patron, friend, and transitory citizen of the established community (pockets).  No longer am I cast conspicuous glares, or warming embraces underscored by potential profits of white exploitation, but genuine expressions and friendly exchanges.  Having spent nearly one and half months here, and ventured into a fair number of local greasy spoons, pubs, and shops, I have distanced myself from the passing, naïve and self- involved tourist. Moreover, I find myself living a routine in a life comparable to that of the local community, and again, in stark contrast to the beach-preoccupied European holidaymakers. Curiously, I find myself resenting their lavish garments and haughty demeanors, disconnected and arrogant as they are.

Dangling from the side of a matatu door at 50 km/ph, settling into the evening with a game of menkella, and joining in local football matches - played about goats and garbage alike, I am living, talking, and smelling as the Kenyans do.  Patterns of life are defined by the Swahili Bantu "poa poa", translated as "slow slow".  Therefore, one is to take life easy, not worry, and enjoy good friends during these short lives of ours.  Than again, that "poa poa" mentality can be unbearably frustrating, given that a simple flat tire, or any rudimentary task can take hours, and is seemingly a community undertaking, completed by upwards to fifteen people. (When they get around to it)       

However, a westerner ought to tread on some familiar soil now and then, and so I did this past Wednesday, when a few friends and I (I-to-I NGOs), set foot in the culturally misplaced and wholly stereotyped Murphy's pub: a faux Irish drinking spot, complete with faded green clovers and non-functioning beer taps, managed by a pair of Kenyans practicing broken English. The irony was sublime and the environment so inviting that not before long, we "Irished" up the setting with copious consumption of beer, boisterous and vulgar diatribe, and ale splashed about the pub, which culminated in a sticky and chaotic mess, likely to have contributed to the Kenyan mass exodus and rowdy mazungu takeover. Aside from this insensitive performance and cultural transgression on my part, I have been doing well in my new environment, fitting in comfortably and contently.