Supermarket fire in Nairobi

I see that Wednesday's fire at 'Nakumatt Downtown', one of a chain of a large supermarkets in the Central Business District of Nairobi, has reached the BBC international news pages.

I heard about it when I was at a children's birthday so sent a text message to my husband who I knew was in a meeting in the CBD.
'big fire in town - hope you not too near!'
The fire broke out at 3pm.
'Actually, very near!' came the response at 4pm.

He later told me that he was in his meeting in a high rise office space nearby, when one by one they noticed plumes of black smoke wafting past the windows. Eventually they broke off their meeting and all walked to the window to look.

When the meeting was finished, my husband walked a block or two to check out the source of the commotion. Thousands of others had had the same idea and they were swarming the area, watching as flames that were four stories high licked up into the air. They could hear loud bangs as gas bottles that were housed in the supermarket kept exploding. As numbers of spectators later became unmanageable later (the figure 10,000 was mentioned) Police had to do some serious crowd control. There were cheers as emergency vehicles arrived including police riot vans that usually use high pressure water to disperse crowds. Even though they were on the spot, I don't think that any of the spectators really realised how serious a situation it was.

The fact that the city council fire station was only a block away from the supermarket was not enough to save it. The fire raged on for hours and the supermarket was utterly gutted. The emergency services were dogged by problems such as discovering city fire hydrants were dry and the fact that their hose pipes had holes (local tv footage made the situation look almost comic). A couple of private security firms who own their own fire trucks came and leant a hand but their was little coordination and a lot of frustration. Passers by and pedestrians were all trying to help firefighters.

The Daily Nation today said;
'Traffic congestion, chronic water shortages and lack of coordination by different fire fighting agencies were the major obstacles. The city council's poor equipment, training and inadequate fire stations compounded the problems.'
The fire is rumoured to have started in the supermarket's generator room and might possibly have been caused by an electrical fault. Witnesses who escaped the store watched the lights flicker on and off then heard a huge explosion downstairs. Many rushed to the second floor to escape via upper floor windows.

Initially we believed that everyone had got out, but slowly, tragically, the newspapers are reporting stories of trapped shoppers (including mothers with children) making emergency calls from their mobile phones to loved ones. Apparently the smoke was toxic, thick and the supermarket was plunged into pitch darkness. The Red Cross quickly set up a tent on site to receive missing person enquiries. The total number of those missing has crept from four to forty. At this point no bodies have been recovered due to the instability of the supermarket shell.

Tudor Dress

I have the spectre of a tudor dress hanging over me. My eight year old daughter has 'tudor day' next wednesday and must arrive in full costume. Apparently she would like to have royal status - Anne Boleyn might be a starting point. We had a note from the teacher yesterday that said;

'if you do not have anything suitable for your child to dress up in... we can lend your child something from the Drama Store'

But, in my skewed housewifely opinion, to admit to being unprepared to the teaching staff would be tantamount to admitting to being a neglectful mother.
'Oh' the teachers would say, 'there's the poor little girl/boy who is dressed in Romeo's outfit, but you see nothing else fitted her! We did try our best!'

In Kenya we do have options. There are 'side of the road' tailors where ever you look and they run up things very reasonably, so in truth, no need to make a dress myself. However, I am painfully aware that if you do delegate the making of the garment to somebody else, it could lead to misunderstandings and wasted fabric and possibly not at all what you wanted in the first place.

A friend of mine got a local tailor to come to her house yesterday to begin on her daughter's costume. As she was explaining how a tudor queen or princess would have looked and sketching things out, her confidence progressively waned as the 'fundi' in question kept saying,
'yes fine madam, yes fine, yes fine, yes I understand.'
She was thinking 'why the hell should this chap understand how wealthy English nobles looked in Britain in the 1500s? How on earth is this going to pan out?'

An added pressure is that my mother made me a fabulous tudor dress for my 'tudor day' when I was at primary school. It involved an old velvet bridesmaids dress and wire coat hangers and is deeply embedded in my memory. I am now feeling that 'what goes around comes around' and I had best knuckle down and get on with it. Also, I have three girls so I figure that it'll get some wear - even if it's just rolled out for tudor day three times then it will be worth it.

Being a cheap skate, I rooted through my collection of fabrics that I already have in a huge brown cardboard box and found some old but not too bad bits that could do the job. Sadly I cut out the pattern sort of 'free hand' and got it all wrong. The bodice was a slapdash disaster and much too small. Fortunately I have just enough heavy brown (watermarked) satin to try again, but there will be no room for more mistakes.

Am I a glutten for punishment or what? An eventful weekend at the sewing machine lies ahead but oh, it's so easy to think of 101 things I would rather do....like tap away on my computer for instance...

Unseasonal rain

The fact that it rained heavily on Monday night made the hourly radio news - sandwiched between the food/maize crisis and the teacher's strike that has been continuing for more than a week. The rain was very welcome 'but not due to last' the newscaster warned. He also said that the downpour was only taking place in and around Nairobi - not countrywide. (i.e. drought continues elsewhere).

Our city council water supply has dried up completely over the past couple of weeks, so we have been buying trucks/water bowsers from a neighbour who has a borehole. It's the same situation pretty much all over town. Others are compelled to buy small containers of water from those who have boreholes and ferry them back to their homes. However, it rained again heavily last night and you can almost hear the garden breathing a sigh of relief.

My husband and I are figuring out (for the millionth time) how best to do some effective rain water harvesting. Let's hope we come to a decision this time, watching rain fall with nothing saved is nothing short of a tragedy.

This time last year...

This time last year Kenya was still in chaos after the flawed December 27th 2007 election. Kofi Annan had arrived by now to mediate in the crisis (much awaited - almost a month after the actual election took place) and it would take yet another month for an agreement to be reached - 28th Feb 2008).

In the run up to the 2007 election, we all got swept up with enthusiasm – it would be Kenya’s truly democratic election with a record turnout of voters – people believed that Kenya would be blazing a trail for other troubled African nations. The crowd were in an ebullient mood with voters who were dressed in blue (PNU) t-shirts standing amicably alongside those in orange (ODM) t-shirts, patiently waiting to cast their votes for three to six hours in mile long queues. As in the recent United States election, many were voting for ‘change’.

Three days later when the vote tallying was delayed there was some unrest – pockets of violence, a few demonstrators causing problems. Those days between Christmas and New Year are strange wherever you are in the world, a hiatus between the old and New Year. There is a sense that time is standing still. Many had extended Christmas leave to encompass the vote and they planned to return to work in January. There was a lot of hanging about and pent up emotion over these days. Shops and offices were closed. It was windy, dusty and hot.

The TV and radio networks were broadcasting live results as and when they came in. Raila Odinga’s opposition party, ODM, had a clear lead with only a few more constituencies left to report results – then overnight the incumbent President’s party, PNU, somehow magically overtook the opposition by a wide margin. There was outrage and disbelief followed by street riots and looting. The Opposition party appealed to ECK (Electoral Commission Kenya) to recount. Two days later The ECK Chairman Samuel Kivuitu announced that PNU were the overall winners – President Kibaki was hurriedly sworn in at State House one hour later, at about 6pm. Behind him you could see journalists carrying equipment running past to catch the action, it was all happening too fast.

After this point all hell broke loose.

The middle classes hunkered down in their apartments to wait it out. In the ensuing days, very few were able to get back to work even if they wanted to. The poor were trapped in the slums with police forming a ring around, preventing them to leave in order to prevent violent demonstrations spilling onto the city streets. The television crews headed down there to shoot footage of burning tyres and frustrated youth. Atrocities were being committed inside. Raila and his ODM party called for peaceful demonstration but no one was really in the mood for peace. People were furious. Murders took place. The terrible story that more than 30 men, women and children who were sheltering in a church outside Eldoret were brutally burned alive because they were outsiders in the area, came to us via Nation Media text message. Three weeks later others were burned in a house in Naivasha in revenge attacks. Law and order broke down. Thugs created roadblocks and demanded to see the identity cards of travellers because then they would have proof of tribe. Many were brutally murdered for being outside their ancestral lands, in the wrong place at the wrong time. The country ground to a terrifying standstill while international mediators did their best to intervene.

In my opinion, the tragedy was that the Kenyan politicians, for a year or more in the run up to the election chose a cheap, low down way to win easy votes and that was to use ‘tribe’. In truth, Kenya’s people have largely become one large melting pot with tribes mixing together, intertribal marriages and free movement around the country, but having said that, stirring up tribal sentiment was not difficult. The existence of poverty made it easy to manipulate many. Rallying cries of; ‘it is our time to eat!’ gave many a campaign wings. As the leaders in the race gained momentum, so did the level of vitriol poured on their opposition. Slurs became personal and increasingly tribal. Vernacular radio stations were used to stoke the flames. Many Kenyan voters were whipped up into fervour; money was splashed around by political parties. The reaction when the vote was ‘robbed’ from the Kenyan people was probably inevitable but in addition a lot of it was masterminded by powerful men (as has been attested to in the Waki Report). Two ODM MPs were murdered at around that time. Further revenge attacks took place. There was an air of mistrust and conspiracy. Kenya’s reputation as a peace loving, friendly nation was destroyed with CNN pictures of machete wielding demonstrators. Western media used the expression 'fiercely tribal' to describe Kenya, but this was not the Kenya that anyone living here really recognised.

A year later, Kenya is clawing its way back onto the international map by making much of her ties with Barack Obama. His election to President in the USA has brought Kenyans together again and given a lot of hope. Kenya is once again the cohesive, friendly nation ready to celebrate when a countryman or 'son' has made it into the White House.

Since last January, the people in Kenya seem to have reacted in a way that people in shock react. For the most part post election atrocities have been swept under the carpet as people try to move on with their lives. The coalition government is dogged by as many corruption scandals as any Kenyan government before it, but to expose the guilty parties would be dangerous. Everyone is wary of rocking the boat. Past events are not dwelt upon much but the remotest possibility of a return to violence is universally feared.

Writing Assignment no 2 - Return to Nairobi National Museum

Today, as part of my correspondance course in writing (assignment 2), I went off to the Nairobi National Museum again in the guise of 'roving reporter'.

First I stopped off at a big shopping centre on the way (Junction) and got totally distracted by finding myself a suitably priced reporter's note book. I found one eventually that was the right price (the Moleskine ones were more than 3,000 Kshillings/£30 and I resisted).

When I finally got to the museum I was dying for a coffee, so went straight to the Savanna Cafe to get a Latte 'to go'. (It drives everyone nuts that I can't begin any kind of an excursion before stopping for coffee as soon as we arrive.) I realised then that I probably couldn't go into the museum with a 'beverage', plus it was a bit awkward juggling my handbag, a scalding coffee plus paper napkin, my large camera with even larger padded case and my A5 hardback note book... and pen. Effortless it wasn't!

Taking photographs of the outside of the building meant setting down my handbag and coffee and leaving them dangerously abandonned as I tried to get good shots. I also realised that I couldn't go into either of the two gift shops (with a coffee) to scope them out for my article. Plus it was almost midday, the sun was hot and I was sweltering.

When I finally entered the Museum I asked hopefully if I was banned from taking photographs inside.
'No' said the lady in black robes behind the desk, 'it's fine, you can take photos if you like.'
I had planned to be rebuffed then go back to the car to unload some of my things. I looked at the luggage deposit desk but it was shuttered up, unmanned and obviously never been used before.
'Thanks' I said. Too lazy to go back to the car I strode, still cluttered, inside.

'Would you like a guide?' asked Tony, a Moi University student on a three month placement at the museum.
'Um.. yes great' I said thinking that taking a guide would be a sure fire way of learning something.
'I hope you don't mind if I take notes?' I asked trying to shove the bulky camera case into my handbag without success and then take the top off my pen. My shoulders were already aching.

I did learn loads from Tony, but having said that I couldn't help it as we stopped at each and every exhibit. I was glad that the large museum comprises quite a lot of empty/unused space at the moment - there are only really 5 bigs rooms with exhibits inside which meant that there was a possibility that my tour would not take all day. The museum are working on more permanent exhibitions as we speak, so no doubt one day it will be full to bursting.

My lowest intellectual point was at the 'Mammals' room which has lifesize Kenyan animals. No need to go on safari, here you can see the big five close up. My mobile rang inside my bag and it took me half an hour to find it amongst the rest of my stuff. When I hung up Tony's mobile rang and then he went off for a chat.

The heavy weights around my shoulders and neck were distracting me from the exhibits.
I said,
'I notice that there are lots of child friendly information points with questions. That's great.'
he said,
'Do come and have a look at this one, this is especially for school parties.'
It was entitled 'Am I a mammal?'
'I'll test you' Tony said, 'can you answer this,'
'I have feathers, I lay eggs,I have a backbone, what am I?'
My mind was swimming,
'Are you asking is it a mammal? - um, yes it is. Oh sorry, maybe it isn't'
What do you think it is? asked Tony
'An ostrich?' I ventured
He shrugged,
'a bird' he said and swung back a disc to show a small, stuffed bird in a lit recess in the wall.
'Oh' I said enthusiastically. 'yes it is, how clever. Kids will love it.'
Next:
'I have a backbone, I lay eggs, I have scales, am I a mammal?'
'Um,' I said, 'yes, um err, no er, is it a snake?'
'it's a fish.'
'Oh' I said. And there it was, a stuffed fish.
'But we do also have a snake here.' he said helpfully skipping along a bit to the fifth question/exhibit in the row.
When I got no. 3 one wrong we gave up on the game. I clearly had no idea what a mammal was.
'It doesn't matter' said Tony kindly.

We spent a good couple of hours going around the museum and I learned tons of interesting facts. Tony said that female initiation rights no longer take place in Kenya on three seperate occasions and I didn't argue - I guess he was giving out the party line. The truth that in some places in Kenya it does still take place might shock the UK and American tourists. He also told me that in Nairobi witch doctors wear business suits, carry briefcases and hire expensive office space which was an interesting fact.

When Tony's cool looking mates came over and whispered something in his ear I said,
'It's OK. Do go now if you need to?'
Tony was off like a shot. 'Ok then.' he said and disappeared.
'Don't forget to look at the African Rock Art exhibition' he said over his shoulder.

To be honest, juggling heavy bags, standing for ages and the fact that it was now two o'clock meant that I was feeling a little bit low blood sugar level.

When I staggered back to the car to do the school run, greasy chicken pie in hand I wondered if I am cut out to be a roving reporter. It seems to be harder work than I once thought. The museum had no information leaflets or handouts at all, so I guess I'll have to telephone and try and talk to the curator to get some final information on who made the beautiful sculptures outside the museum etc. I wonder how the photos will come out?

Post inauguration day in Kogelo

I wonder how the residents of the once unknown Kogelo village in Kenya are feeling today?

The huge TV screens that were temporarily donated and set up for Kogelo resident's benefit yesterday so that they could watch the US ceremony live, will have now been packed away. The jamboree that is the international media will have rolled out in their 4x4s, no longer interested in what villagers have to say about their 'brother' or 'son' becoming President of the United States. No more microphones, television cameras broadcasting live feeds, no more foreigners or exotic gifts from strangers.

Now the two bulls have been slaughtered for yesterday's celebration, meat consumed, villagers must face reverting back to their old life of poverty and hardship.

Dreams of cash rich American tourists flocking to Kogelo to pay hommage to their President's ancestral home may have been exaggerated in some minds. A brief taste of fame, excess and good fortune, 5 days of partying and today possibly back down to earth with a bump? I wonder how those Kogelo people are feeling now?

NB
after writing this I hear that Kogelo now (almost) has a water supply for the first time ever. Standard 21/01/09;
'Lake Victoria South Water Serivces Board Chief exec said; "We have sunk two giant bore holes and we are planning to extend the pipes to the nearest river to increase output. There is no more thirst in Kogelo'''
plus - they have already connected Obama's grandmother, two schools (both named after President Obama) a local dispensary and a health centre...
So that's good...

Obama Day again...

Everybody is so excited about Barack Obama's swearing in today. Two bulls have already been slaughtered in Kogelo village. Somebody even suggested another national holiday tomorrow as Kenyans will be so tired from celebrating and staying up late tonight to watch the ceremony on tv. Lets hope that common sense prevails.

Having said that, it is such a momentous time. The Kiss FM radio presenter today said;
'people think we are kidding ourselves about Obama saying that he's not coming to help Kenya, but that is not the point, we are not stupid! We know he is not coming here, but what he is doing is giving us all hope.'

I keep feeling like I need to pinch myself. I keep getting goose bumps. My worst fear is that Obama will be assasinated or some horrendous tragedy will befall him making him into a sainted icon of what could have been. I shouldn't be so negative but at the moment there is so much emotion that it seems almost too good to be true. One almost daren't believe that the momentous 'change' that has taken so long in coming will actually take place.

The House is very quiet

The house is very quiet. My parents left last night to go back to England armed with belated xmas thank you letters. We just clocked up five straight weeks of visitors and frankly we all got used to the company.

Now I have to begin 2009 properly, start a to get into a routine, get on with tackling new years resolutions, write more, achieve something, get going, no excuses and no 'what shall we do for lunch today?' or 'shall we all sit down and have a coffee?'

I kicked off by going to the gym. The class was packed with people like me trying to shift excess christmas pounds, high kicking, sweating and groaning all at the same time.

We are still basking in the sun here in Nairobi after a couple of unexpected but much needed days of rain. It had been impossibly dusty. My friend in UK said that she couldn't face reading my blog with tales what we have been up to as England was so depressing at the moment. I tried to explain to my Mum that this lovely weather is because it is summer here and that she has only ever been here when Nairobi is at its best. When it's summer in England, Nairobi is chilly, overcast and grey.

Things aren't so rosey here really. People are actually starving in some parts of Kenya due to the drought at the moment, and the shortage of food has been overshadowed by the MPs/local businessmen's maize scandal where individuals have been doing dodgy trading to line their own pockets, without any care of devastating repercussions on poor Kenyans. There is now not enough food in reserve for emergencies such as now. State school teachers are striking today over poor pay. Secondary school fees have gone up enormously. The news headlines remain depressing as they uncover one, then another, then yet another case of corruption. There is no opposition party to the current coalition government so the media do their best to compensate for this.

AIG has recently rounded down figures for expected economic growth in Kenya this year. One reason is that the tourist market has all but dried up due to the global economic crisis.

Our house helper is depressed about Kenya today. There was so much hope at election time in Dec 2007. She feels that things will never change or get better, powerful Kenyans will always steal from the poor. They don't care about Kenya, they only care for themselves. No one can see that changing any time soon. I wish Obama was being sworn in here instead of in the States!

The Nairobi National Museum

It wasn’t until I went back with the children that I noticed the dinosaur; a great monolith but partly hidden by a young tree, evil red eyes, a Tyrannosaurus Rex. The three girls danced about between its moulded metal legs; ‘he’s looking at me!’ they shrieked before running on.
They then twirled and tripped up the steps beneath the shade of the giant archway of the recently renovated Nairobi National Museum and past the twelve foot high recycled glass and wrought iron sculpture.
‘Please can we go in now? Please?’
said two, but my youngest daughter had begun to cry about a blister on her foot and was already begging to be carried. I sighed. The harsh sun was at its highest point. We squinted at one another.
‘Lunch first’
Grandpa announced sensibly so we filed into the Savanna Cafe and found a table on the terrace. Granny enquired about the availability of a plaster at the reception desk but without any luck.

One hour later, fed and watered, we waited in agonised anticipation inside a hot, sun filled room for Grandpa to organise the tickets. The lady behind the desk smiled but took much too long to work out how many residents and non residents were in the party.

‘One non resident,’
‘No, two’
‘And two resident children?’
‘No, three.’

To distract the girls, I pointed out the glass mural set into the wall illuminated by bright sunshine behind. It depicted a baobab tree with rivers, snakes, impala and buffalo around its base. There was a place to sit down underneath. We glimpsed a life size elephant, zebra and giraffe through closed, tinted glass doors inside the cool of the museum.

‘Lets just go in’ I said vaguely exasperated.
The main hall did not disappoint.
‘He’s looking at me!’
The eldest said for the second time, this time referring to the buffalo scowling from behind the heavy fringe of his horns. The stuffed cheetah looked melancholy and noticeably afflicted by mange. My middle daughter leapt on a weighing scale that lit up and announced ‘20kgs’. Soon we were all jumping on and off, even Granny. I was momentarily delighted to find I had lost weight but then discovered that the scale was only accurate to the nearest ten. ‘We should have these scales in the gym!’

There were the African animals first, next a room devoted to the evolution of mankind with life size models of ape like men and women, paintings depicting Stone Age life and fossils that you were allowed to hold.

We climbed a spiral staircase housed in a 1930s style round tower with a tall window. Upstairs on the balcony we learned of various Kenyan tribes, the girls banged away on the xylophone. My favourite item on display was the football made of plastic bags bunched together and bound with string, marked; ‘Child’s toy. Football. Contemporary’. You see boys playing with these on the street sometimes.

The absence of any reference to the colonial era spoke volumes.

Expat Stereotype - The Upcountry Expats

Belinda and Simon are having breakfast on the veranda of their Laikipia ranch and taking stock of the day ahead. Belinda has already fed the chickens and walked the dogs while Simon was out on an early morning foray to have a look at the faulty water pump down at the river below the house. He was put out of sorts by the water supply spluttering out while he was in the shower earlier. Belinda’s hair is scrunched into a pony tail and her cheeks are rough and red. Simon has cast aside his leather bush hat (belonged to his father) and is dressed in short khaki shorts and a sleeveless fleece in a similar muted shade.

‘We have to collect the Jones’s from the airstrip at lunchtime but there is no fuel in the Landrover’ says Belinda,
‘Damn,’ says Simon,
‘I really don’t want to have to go all the way IN (i.e. to the nearest one horse town) today,’ then his expression lightens as he sees a way out,
‘but hang on a mo. I have half a jerry can next to the generator, we could chuck that in to the Landy for now.’

Belinda and Simon have an almost constant stream of visitors which can be tiresome.
‘Oh’ Belinda looks worried, ‘But will there be enough for the generator then? I really did want to catch up on emails this morning,’ she lied. In fact she had heard it was the first day of the Boden sale and was keen on doing some online surfing.
‘Plenty, plenty’ Simon replied distractedly while fiddling with his crackling vhf radio.
Belinda sighs then starts on a fresh tack:
‘Geoff the lion tracker is coming over for coffee this morning, along with some new American student who out here for six months to do some project on silver backed jackals.’
‘Well, I’m too busy to see them’ says Simon,
'I have to look into Mwangi’s report of an orphaned elephant over in the West corner’ (Mwangi is one of the rangers). And with that, Simon is up and out of the door.

Belinda wanders over to the kuni booster located outside her rondavel kitchen and discusses with the two gardeners what she wants done with the vegetable patch. Martha meanwhile has started on doing the days hand washing at an outside sink. The sight of the brown river water depresses Belinda and she wishes for the millionth time that she had a washing machine like 'normal' people. The smell of wood smoke cuts through the chill of the morning air.

By lunchtime Belinda has collected the Jones’s from the airstrip with their two small children. Fresh from the UK, they emerged from the small plane looking somewhat out of place with blue/white English winter complexions and frightened expressions. Later, the visitors lounge self consciously on the veranda furniture making polite conversation as their two children chase chickens and scare away the exotic birds from the bird feeder. Belinda winces and once again feels relieved that her two are at boarding school.

Simon arrives back at the house in a fury.
‘By the time I got to where the orphaned elephant was supposed to be, Mwangi told me that the Elephant Orphanage helicopter from Nairobi had already swooped in and taken it away!'
He then stomped off to have lunch in his study alone forgetting to greet the Jones’s.

For want of a better idea and to break the ice, Belinda suggests taking the Jones’ on a game drive and they seem delighted but inwardly she is worried about the lack of fuel in the car.
As they drive across and out of the ranch they spot zebra, impala, giraffe and dik dik. The visitors are sitting up on the roof, wind in their hair, unaware that Belinda is coasting down hills in neutral and turning off the engine each time the Jones’s ask to stop and take a photograph.

Belinda’s heart sinks as they pass the Richardson’s ranch that has recently been carved up into twenty acre plots and is being sold off to dreadful townies from Nairobi who will come and go at weekends only.
‘It’ll be like Piccadilly Circus up here soon’ she sighs to herself, 'full of grockles.'
But for now the sunset and the views of Mount Kenya are breathtaking.

Daily dramas

Just in case I'm giving the impression of it all being plain sailing out here in sunny Nairobi, I'll give a short update on what has been happening around our house in the last few weeks;

1) The gardener got sick. He went to the local clinic and was told he had Typhoid and Malaria and was given treatment. When we phoned him a couple of days later he said he still had headaches. We took him to our doctor then to hospital to run 'proper' malaria and typhoid tests. They came back completely clear. Our doctor helpfully prescribed headache pills and vitamins and I'm glad to say that he is now fully recovered (after 10 days).

2) Our housekeeper told me that she was being stalked by (from what I could make out) an old boyfriend. Apparently he has been troublesome since August but his threats were recently getting more frightening;
'I will pay my friends to spoil you...' he had said.
We offered to help if we could but she courageously took the matter alone to the police. They called both our housekeeper and the stalker together and thrashed the matter out at a pre arranged meeting, giving each side a chance to give their side of the story. The police then decreed that if the man were to threaten Florence again, or if anyone else reported seeing this then it would become a police matter and he would be arrested. Miraculously this seems to have resolved the matter (fingers crossed).

It seems that even in Nairobi police are being called in to mediate over domestic matters in much the same way a village elder might have done.

3) Our ex-nightwatchman came and did some Christmas day guard cover as the gardener was off sick. It was good to see him, but he said he was just recovering from a nasty illness where his stomach blew up and made him look like he was pregnant. I was a little bemused by the appearance of a shiny new bicycle as (if you have read a few of these previous posts) he texts us each month and we duly pay him an allowance for; 'rent and food'. He lives in Kibera slum with his wife and son and campaigns for HIV and Aids awareness (you don't get paid for this).

4) A local mechanic friend of my husband was hijacked on a bus (matatu) on his way home just before Christmas on Thika Road. Armed bandits threw the bus driver out then took the vehicle into the bush with all the innocent passengers on board. They were all asked to hand over money and mobile phones. Sadly John had some money on him (it being Christmas). He tried to conceal it behind his back but then was banged on the head when one of the thugs spotted him. Sadly hijacking minibuses and mugging the passengers is a fairly common crime in Nairobi.

5) Another employee's brother was suddenly taken ill, so he had to take urgent leave and another loan just after we had paid him his 13th month salary.

6) Returning from the recently reopened Nairobi Museum (I would recommend anyone visit - it is well worth it) - and just around the corner from our house, my Mum and Dad (from UK) and I witnessed a man being knocked off his bike by a speeding public bus. The impact was so strong that I am fairly certain he was killed.

Fortunately the three children did not see the accident. I drove on when I saw the Kenya Bus stop quickly and the uniformed driver dash out to try to help the victim. I felt so sorry for everyone both the cyclist and the driver, but not sorry enough to try to help I'm afraid. I did try calling the local police when I got home but all the phone numbers I had for them were out of order.

7) the plug on my very overworked but brand new dishwasher burnt out.

The Dishwasher

The winds of change are blowing through Nairobi. I am not talking about the coalition government this time (on the verge of collapse this week it seems – slightly worrying), but in this instance; kitchens!

Many of us have inherited 1920s/30s kitchens in old Nairobi houses which are dark, badly ventilated pokey little places tucked around the back. Formerly a hive of industry where the lady of the house would rarely be spotted darkening the door. Today however, Nairobi housewives are looking for change, downsizing on staff and upping the anti on mod cons.

I met a lady before Christmas who has lived and run her own business in Nairobi for more than ten years and is mother to teenaged children. She recently moved into a city apartment as she felt bogged down by the trappings of a big house, large garden and scores of employees to help her manage it all. She has downsized and streamlined her life and says she is now much happier and in control. Friends we stayed with after Christmas up country had 18 staff in and around their house, no mains power, no freezer, no fridge, no washing machine and numerous man management issues. On one hand it is a great service to provide would be unemployed people with precious jobs (however menial), but on the other hand simplifying matters has definitely become popular recently, especially here in the big smoke.

Newly built, sizeable town house compounds all have ‘first world’ big, family room style kitchens with mod cons included. Friends of mine, whether they have built a house themselves or bought property now have kitchens with central islands, butcher’s blocks, even automatically shutting drawers. The sort of kitchens that are actually conducive to sharing a cup of coffee and a chat.

I am finally at my wits end with my washing machine being a short walk across the garden, with my lack of hot water in the kitchen (the plumbing situation has gone from bad to disastrous), squinting to see what I am stirring in my soup due to lack of natural light, cupboard doors falling off their hinges as I open them – but this is not simply a whinge – I wanted you to know that I have actually taken my first step in doing something about it. I’ve had my new super slim line (read: tiny) dishwasher plumbed in!! It’s only taken 6 months to get around to it. Hooray!

I must admit that there was a certain amount of stress when I realised that it was impossible to buy dishwasher salt or rinse aid in Kenya. There was a lot of telephoning around supermarkets on the day after our xmas visitors arrived from England. I think they thought I was crazy but I was driven by the prospect of multiple public holidays, no help and ten sitting down for every meal. After quite some investigation and hair pulling I discovered that you can use rock salt instead of dishwasher salt and white wine vinegar instead of rinse aid. Phew. Since then the dishwasher has come into its own (even though the plates do smell of vinegar). We all love it; in spite of the fact that it’s tricky shoehorn our plates into the tiny thing. I was worried that with a big machine we would constantly be running out of crockery and cutlery. I'm beginning to think that might have been a mistake.

I did hear of somebody in Africa who used to keep her dishwasher hidden under a blanket for use only at the weekends when her house staff were off duty. Its existence remained as closely guarded secret from her employees. In our household the dishwasher has become a labour saving device for all (provided I can get a regular supply of the powder to go in it) but it hasn’t yet put anyone out of a job yet (though I haven't had the electricity bill yet).

Roll on the 21st century kitchen to go with the shiny dishwasher. I can always dream can't I...

Back to the Grindstone

The Christmas tree is down. I don't know how many times I have booted up my computer over the past couple of weeks, got distracted by things going on in the house, come back a couple of hours later and just shut it down without tapping out a word.

My brother in law's wife says she looks forward to my online analysis of her Xmas visit to Kenya with their three children. To be honest it was great fun and passed in a blur of beach, bush and back again with lots of girls playing 'lets pretend' games in between. We attempted to defy the credit crunch by lounging in beach houses and visiting friends, sitting on the roof of four wheel drive cars spotting game all compressed into the space of two weeks.

I was proud to have come up with some good credit crunch Christmas presents though. My eldest daughter got my old ipod nano, put back in its original box and loaded with her favourite tunes. She was thrilled but did ask why the face was a bit scratched. I still haven't come clean on that one. I did feel a bit guilty when she asked where my ipod had got to and I told her an outright lie,
'Oh.... I think it's in the car....'
(I'm blushing at the thought of it).

For our three year old daughter, I washed the long since outgrown dressing gown of the eldest (that was hanging on the back of her door) then wrapped it, gave it to her and bought new ones for the older two. Now all three are 'dressing gowned' up for their early morning tv watching sessions and pleased as punch.

I guess as they get older it will all get a lot less simple. My husband and I gave each other nothing - but we had just splashed out on some new furniture so decided that was enough.

I've worried a bit about the media bill being passed by Kibaki. I hoped that the numerous Kenyan MPs who returned to their constituencies over Christmas were duly heckled by villagers and told off for being greedy or persuaded to change their ways for 2009 and put personal ambitions aside. (ie perhaps to agree to pay tax and stop thinking up money making schemes of their own).

My parents have arrived and are trying to explain how bad things are in England economically at the moment. They say that everyone is frightened of losing their jobs. We look back at them a little bemused behind sunglasses to cut out the African summer glare.
'Is it really that bad? I can't imagine it?'