Combating the Evil Gastro Aliens

I’m sitting in the Aga Khan University Hospital Endoscopy Unit in Nairobi, Kenya, waiting for colonoscopy and esophagogastroduodenoscopy test results (see prior posts on food poisoning difficulties for what led up to this delightful excursion). I have much to share, so buckle down and hear about Kenya.

Close Encounters of the Turd Kind

{Sorry about that crass choice of words; I simply couldn’t resist. Read on, and you’ll understand why.}

For The first few days of my trip, I stayed at an Airbnb in an upscale residential area of Nairobi. The proprietors were nice, and the apartment was lovely, but there were no towels (!!), I had to request toilet paper, and there was no shower curtain, allowing water to spray all over the bathroom floor. Given that there were no towels, there was no way to mop it up. I like to leave my Airbnbs clean, so this was distressing for me, not to mention that I didn’t like slogging around in cold water every time I went to use the bathroom.

As for drying off after showering, my hostess (in all seriousness), recommended that I use the African Way. This means drip drying, folks. So I contemplated running through the apartment after my shower, naked and wet, saying, “don’t mind me–I’m Africa drying!” Fortunately I controlled myself and used a t-shirt to dry off.

But forget the towel problem: things got most interesting at dinnertime the second night.

We were far from any restaurants, so we opted for the meal that could be purchased for 350 Kenyan shillings (roughly $3.50 American), home cooked by our hosts. Or more likely, our hosts’ house girl. The dinner the previous night had been fine, consisting of pasta and a nice meat sauce, so I figured we were safe. However, it turned out that I was completely unprepared for what I was about to experience.

The first problem was the wait. I requested dinner at about 6:30 PM, and I checked back at 7:30 PM hungry and ready to eat. The hostess snippy, saying, “you’ll get it when it’s done.” Dinner is finally served at 9 pm. She knocks and quickly barges into our room, which surprises us much. I take the tray. Looks good: some kind of red meat stew with ugali and fresh tomatoes, garnished with parsley. Here is the plate after some of the food had been eaten:

Starved, I tell RG3 I am going to forego the normal eating with hands and use the fork. I’m just not in the mood, and there is no napkin. Before he can respond, I take a piece of meat and ugali and stuff it in my mouth.

{Hmmm. Kind of boingy in texture. And a slight essence de digestive tract. Okay, I must’ve gotten a fatty piece. Wow, this is really chewy!}

RG3 stares at the plate with disdain and doesn’t engage the fork or his hands. This behavior surprises me, as I know he is starving. I continue to chew and think, wow, what kind of meat is this?

I vocalize my thought to RG3. “Hii ni nini?” Ng’ombe?” (What is this? Beef?)

RG3 snorts in contempt and smiles in disgust. “Huh.”

“What’s wrong?”

“That is stomach.”

I immediately stop chewing. My eyes get very large.

“No. Stop it. Don’t joke. That’s not funny. How do you know?” (Certain cuss words are omitted from this post)

“I know stomach.”

“No freakin’ way. Seriously? Don’t joke with me.”

“That is stomach.”

“Nooooo!!!! Are you joking? Come on!! Stop it!”

RG3 rolls a piece of meat over to reveal something that looks like it’s not meant for human consumption but rather to move human consumption through the digestive tract.

Oh my God.

I chew the remaining gristly mass and suddenly feel a strong urge to vomit. But i keep my cool, continue to masticate (quickly), and manage to swallow my first and last bite.

RG3: “This is special for dogs. I am not dog.”

At which point the Honey Badger completely loses her composure and starts laughing until she cries. Whilst being completely grossed out.

I then realized that RG3 was using the wrong English word. He was saying tumbo, which means “stomach.” I said, “hapana, do you mean matumbo (intestines)?”

“Ndio.” (Yes)

Oh Lordy Lordy Lordy. I’m eating intestines. How perversely relevant, given that I will be experiencing my first colonoscopy in two days. ?

RG3’s face was dark, though, as apparently feeding intestines to a guest is very rude in his culture. In a grave voice, he pronounced, “I heard there is a devil but that it is something you can’t see. Today I see devil in person.” (Referring to the host that fed us matumbo.).

He continues, “Kenya is fucked up.”

Now I’ve completely lost my mind and am rolling around on the floor crying. So sick and so wrong!

{So now do you understand my crass reference in the heading for this section?).

Judge Not That Ye Be Not Judged

On the day we left Nairobi, we stopped in at a local eatery to have some quick lunch before departing. Lordy be, but look what is on the menu (second item down):

So apparently matumbo is perfectly legit in Kenya. And I read that often goat intestines are used. So who knows exactly what I ate. The lesson learned is to not judge when you’re in another culture. For all I know, our hosts may have considered their culinary offering to be very respectful. And I know many other cultures eat such parts of the animal, such as the Mexican culture. And really, it’s more responsible because nothing is wasted. However, my American upbringing did not give me the intestinal fortitude to eat entrails. (Nyuk nyuk. ?). I’m with RG3 on this one.

Message to self: In the future, be sure to ask what they’ll be serving before ordering blindly.

Landscapes

We took a chartered shuttle bus from Arusha to Nairobi (no air-conditioning though it was promised). Here are some pictures on the way, mostly from the Tanzanian countryside on the route through Namanga:

Isn’t it beautiful? I love Africa.

English Spoken Here…

One nice thing about Kenya (for those of us who do not yet speak Swahili well) is the fact that English is an official language. You see English everywhere in Kenya, and almost everyone speaks it. They also speak Swahili, however, so you can get some opportunities to practice that as well. However, I did notice a slightly different accent, making it a little more difficult to understand. RG3 also commented that they sometimes mix native languages with Swahili in Kenya, resulting in something that can be half understood even by a native Swahili speaker. Kind of like Spanglish. Here’s some signage not far from Namanga, with a cool windmill in the background:

Being a lifelong student and admirer of language, I was highly amused by some of the English usage I saw, this one from a City Hoppa bus (look at the upper left):

Honey Badger spotted on said bus:

Not to criticize, but one thing I noticed about Kenya is that smiles were few and far between. You can see that evidenced in the photo above. In fact the guy on the left looks like he’s hiding from the camera! And there I sit with my goofy grin. I tried it with most people on the street, but almost nobody smiled back. I think only one child returned the favor during my entire trip. I don’t know why this is, but I’ll just chalk it up to cultural differences. When in Rome…

Other hilarious examples (at least to me):

Which Doctor

My favorite sign was the “hooting” one above, which I saw in many places. A close second is this one:

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, that is an advertisement by a WITCH doctor. For real. Man power does not refer to labor force. Think Viagara… I pondered whether I should consult him about a portion of “love portion” but thought it would be wise to leave that one alone. ?

Hookah Anyone?

There is a huge Indian population in Kenya and hence a lot of Indian influence. My favorite is the Indian food, but we also saw tons of hookahs in the bar at our hotel:

I didn’t try it, but I was intrigued.

‘Murica

Besides the lack of facial happy expressions, by far the thing I disliked the most was the American influence in Nairobi. It didn’t take long after we arrived when I started to see American fast food chains: KFC, Subway, Pizza Hut, and Burger King. I really could do without those things and don’t miss them living in Tanzania.

I also saw upscale brands like Gucci, Lancome-Paris, and Clinique. Although there were very poor parts, there is clearly a lot of wealth in Kenya, but I don’t think a lot of it belongs to Kenyans. All of this made me miss the comfort of simple Tanzania.

Home Sweet Home

Last night I arrived in Arusha late evening after about seven hours on the bus. After we crossed the border into Tanzania, I felt I was home. Furaha!!!

Oh, and the results of my testing were good. I need some drug treatment, but all should be back to normal soon. The Badger will live to post again.

Have a great day!

Badger out!!!