Oh Kenya, you make me laugh when you dont intend to...

I’ve been back in Kenya since the end of May, co-teaching a field course for 14 undergraduates from our college at Colorado State University who are learning about ecological and social research methods (the intended content) as well as their respective breaking points or abilities to cope with the same group of people for two consecutive weeks (secondary content that presents itself. No facilitation needed).  It’s one part classroom, one part adventure, one part profound challenges to one’s worldview, and just a hint of middle school.  College students, overall, crack me up. As I get older, I increasingly feel like they are aliens that I share a planet with but not much else. They’ve never heard of the movie Out of Africa but can talk and debate ad nauseum about whether Taylor Swift is actually a country singer or not. These sort of crystal clear moments of generation gap are more frequent in my life with each passing year.  Earlier this year a student remarked that it'd be cool if I married his mom so that I could be his step-dad. 

Kenya never fails to amuse me when I least expect it, which means I rarely have a camera handy when those moments occur.  These moments are some blend of a translation-gone-bad, unfortunate typo or mistake, creative ingenuity, and in some cases, I have no idea what the thinking or mishap might have been.  Here is my laundry list of examples from my current and recent trips.

Yesterday while traveling up to Nairobi from the heart of the Rift Valley we passed a vehicle that had absolutely no windows.  I don’t just mean it lacked side windows. There was also no rear window and no windshield.  Instead of insects hitting his windshield, some undoubtedly were hitting him in the face. This car was similar to what I’ve seen at the conclusion of the Stearns County demolition derby in Sauk Centre, Minnesota. 

Last Thursday there was 20km walk in Samburu to raise awareness about the impacts of poaching. It was a peaceful march that included old and young, girls and boys, highly education and less educated.  Many had something to carry, such as a sign with a message about an intolerance to poaching.  Others carried large posters of photos with elephants, a beautiful animal indeed.  Those that ran out of time or failed to plan ahead held magazine covers with elephants on the front.  And some took the magazine cue to carry, well, just any magazine.  One person carried a magazine high above his head, with a cover story about the former prime minister’s wife titled “Balancing the High Life with Being a Woman.”   I love these instances in which someone has essentially imported an idea from elsewhere but wasn’t able to decipher all of the important details and took it primarily at face value.  In this scenario, I assume the person thought “it’s a peaceful protest, and you have to carry something.”  

Most secondary schools have a motto; that’s pretty customary here.  The motto is usually a mix of borrowed positive words and phrases centered around achievement, discipline and high expectations.  Many times these mottos use words that may sound correct in a phonetic sense but are a letter or two from accurate.  A few days ago we drove past a school with its name painted along a cinder block wall, and underneath was the motto “Starving for Pefection.” And yes, “Perfection” was misspelled, as though they needed to provide evidence of their motto.  It’s also possible they meant “Striving for Perfection.”  This sign may have been completed by the same painter who designed the nearby shop sign for “Buttery Charging." Another school had a motto suited for those aspiring for mediocrity, as it claims to be "A Place for Reasonable Education."

We drove past a sign for a bank that included a message of “We won’t lose your money.”  I usually assume such a thing by virtue of being a bank, but I suppose it’s nice to have that commitment stated explicitly.  I also appreciated a butchery that proudly announced on its sign “Our meat isn’t old, especially the goat meat.”  I'm not sure if maybe that ends up calling the quality of the goat meat into question afterall, or everything they sell that isn’t goat meat.  But something in that name makes me suspicious.  And just today I passed a small pick-up with an enclosed topper and the word/question "Meat?" written on it in big block letters.  

My all-time favorite billboard which extended over the entire side of a 8-10 story building was "It's a great day for sausages," written below a 3-story high picture of a sausage on a fork. I'm not sure what characteristics of a day make it great for meat products exactly, but if you trust the sign, today is a great day for it. 

I recently drove by a church, and following the name on its sign was the phrase "Because Jesus was a winner." We all like a winner, afterall.

Another reliable source of entertainment on a long drive is reading names of the the many little shops ("dukas") and roadside cafes that we pass while en route.  I started writing down the more humorous ones during my last two trips.  This includes the “Gender Equity Restaurant,” “Small but Cool Kiosk,” and the “Free to Leave Anytime” restaurant. I appreciate the honesty of the "Slow but Sure Cafe,” though I have learned over the years never to assume that a local Kenyan restaurant has your first three choices, or to plan on waiting while someone from the cafe leaves to go buy the products necessary to make the meal you just ordered. 

 A few additional laughs can be had by the seemingly insensible combination of products or services provided by a single business. I have passed “Karibu Beauty Salon and Butchery” which works out well for the busy patron who needs both a haircut and a few kilos of goat meat.  Another roadside vendor didn’t have a sign but its two primary products were wooden coffins and wheelbarrows, which makes some good business sense if you think about it for a moment.  Another shop sold school uniforms and cement; I can’t come up with a scenario where those two products are logically connected in any sort of ethical way.  

At JK Bookstore, you can, of course, buy a cow (look closely).

And older Kenyans seeking to hone their driving skills can pick up some miracle chicken while waiting, and after their lesson is over they can pick up a propane tank from the Driving School. Incidentally, yesterday I saw a massive truck (called a "lorry" around here) with the "Senior Driving" sign on it, and everything about the vehicle's waywardness supported that it was being driven by someone new to the world of operating a vehicle, and a truck in particular.  Picture your grandmother learning to drive for the first time in the biggest U-Haul truck available for rent.  Now you've got the picture. 

On your way to Nanyuki, you can stop at "Mama's Dress Shop" where a promise on the door is made to "Make you look like a movie star" and when you're done, you can step outside and buy a headstone.

On a stop on my way back to Nairobi earlier in the week, I was solicited by a vendor to the vehicle and asked to buy a bunch of bananas which she held in her hand. I declined, and then she reached into her dress, pulled out a set of AAs (batteries, not breasts), and asked if I would like to buy batteries. Again, I declined. She reached down to the ground, grabbed a chicken, held it by its neck as she put her arm into my car, and insisted I at least buy her poultry that was now dangling above my lap.

A Kenyan bread company advertises on its bread bag that the bread is a great source of protein, and that eating a loaf – an entire loaf! – is good for your muscles.  A fastfood pizza company extols the merits of its product as “One half pizza provides the fat you need in a day.”  I’m sure that’s an accurate statement, though probably more accurate to say “exceeds” rather than “provides.” 

Yesterday while waiting outside a market, I leaned up against a wall that I soon discovered had been very recently painted. The entire now-white right side of my jacket is proof.  No sign. No warning.  Just a large white stripe now on my black jacket. The painter, who was further down the wall, smiled innocently and said it looked like a zebra.   

That’s the latest, albeit brief, blog of the entertaining moments while again traveling in Kenya.