March 8th

Experienced two typical Nairobian firsts in the past two days: theft and traveler’s diarrhea. Actually it was the third time I was a victim of theft. The first was when the monkey stole the toast. The second was when a hawk took a chicken wing right off a plate I was holding in one hand [I’m so used to the surreal now I didn’t even think it was blog-worthy at the time; I was just pissed about my diminished dinner]. Yesterday I was pickpocketed. I’m not exactly sure when or how, but at least only my cheap phone was taken [my new number is +254 721 638 046].
Today I woke up feeling fine and went with some volunteers to see some acrobats [one of whom is our house manager’s cousin … more on him next time].
Around mid-performance I felt the rumblings. Plans for the rest of the day were aborted, but I was still a long way from home. It took about 2 hours to get back. Had it taken 2 hours and thirty seconds I would have owned my first pair of brown underwear … EWWWW. It took two months, but I eventually had to break out the bottles of Imodium and cipro. Spent the rest of the day watching Brad Pitt films [“I am not gay … I am not gay”].



So back to the cousin of the house manager, David. He’s been courting one of the volunteers here like crazy. Whenever I meet any African guy they ask the same two questions: “How do I go to America” and “How can I get a Muzungu [white] girlfriend.” It’s like shiksappeal but way stronger and way more upfront. It’s across the board and with no shame whatsoever.

Their method of courting, however, is well, odd. The volunteer, Carla, has had over 10 guys profess their love for her although only three were more than just random guys in the street [“I love you” is the pickup line of choice here]. One is David, the other works at her orphanage and I don’t know how she knows the third, but he has already proposed despite not having been on a date. The one at the orphanage has invited her to meet his parents. And then there’s David, who has sent the most hilarious text messages I have ever read. One read, “My love. You visited me in a dream last night and showed me around your hidden treasures. I woke up but still dreaming of you. Where did you take me?” The other texts are even more ridiculous. When I get access to them I’ll post them.

The appeal for the other gender [African girls to white guys] is noticeable, but not nearly as strong. I’ve only had one girl proclaim her love for me, to which I replied (solely for the irony of it), “What was your name again.” She actually got the joke and laughed, before reminding me of her name. My host brother asked me if I wanted him to get rid of her. I said “yes,” so she’s probably floating in the Nairobi River right now. Actually I did feel a little bad for having her escorted off, but I know she was either a grifter or a “hustler” so I don’t feel that bad.
We do get harassed by African men a lot, but in a non-sexual way. It’s really annoying because a dude or two will just walk with you for long stretches of time. It’s hard to get rid of them, because how do you stop someone from walking next to you?
The other day these two guys walked with me for 30 minutes. I couldn’t tell them to piss off, because I preferred them annoying to belligerent. And they just said they wanted to be friends and exchange numbers blah blah, but I know their idea of being friends is me buying them stuff. I have a lot of African friends now who I do buy meals and drinks for, but I know if I told them to pay for themselves they would. These two guys were just wankers, but they had no shame about bluntly declaring they were walking me into the house (and thus, by default, staying awhile). So when we got to the gate I had no choice but to say, “I’m not giving you my number, we’re not friends, you have to leave now.” If you’re anything less than direct, they’ll push their way into your life. Of course when I said this they played the race card as I walked off. Whatever.
It is annoying, but it doesn’t bother me after-the-fact, but a couple other volunteers have said it’s the one reason they wouldn’t want to come back. For me it’s way not enough of a reason [although I understand why its much more threatening for girls].

A couple of weeks ago this random guy started walking with me and the GVN rep, Sara, like 40 minutes from our destination. I livened things up a bit by telling him I was a helicopter pilot and manufacturer from Montana in Kenya looking to build propellers here. I kept it up for the 40 minutes while Sara fought off cover-blowing laughter. I was proud of myself until a few hours later when the guy found us at lunch and sat down with us uninvited with a list of emails and numbers of skilled workmen who he was sure could build helicopter propellers. Wasn’t so proud of myself anymore … DAMMIT.

Another volunteer and I have discussed the Muzungu Pass and Muzungu Tax system. Basically we can go wherever we want and do whatever we want on the pass, but get charged a little bit extra on the tax. The average white southerner is not 5% as racist against black people as African black people are against black people. It’s kind of sad.

Back to the African girls opinion of white guys. It’s kind of fun being the popular, sexy guy in the room when we go out here. Actually the muzungu’s whole existence here is sort of like celebrity status (with kids pointing and staring and everyone wanting to meet you). I haven’t had any relationships here whatsoever, although for once it wouldn’t be hard at all [the disease thing really scares me along with the disingenuous nature it would have to take … not that this is a philosophy post haha]. But when we went clubbing the other night I had no trouble finding dance partners, and mind you, I’m sporting a pair of legit mutton chops ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Beardindex.jpg ) at the moment; I look like a half-retarded West Virginian (is that redundant?) farmer. But a white half-retarded West Virginian farmer still rocks the muzungu pass haha.