Traveling Vignettes

Here are a few of the more memorable moments from traveling in Kenya:

• Being helped by a friendly airport policeman. When my ride did not show up, he guided me to a phone which didn’t accept my Kenya-purchased calling card; then he took me to a local shop which helped me successfully place the call, and then interrupted when the owner attempted to con me out of my card; then he stayed with me until my ride arrived. He had a quick exchange in Kiswahili with my driver, who then gave the officer some money – apparently the policeman thought his services to me helped preserve the honor of my friend, and my friend agreed.
  
• Kenyan cars. On the way to the guest house from the airport, my friend’s car broke down on a busy street. He went walking to make some phone calls, and returned with some street mechanics. We pushed the car down a side road, where these two guys used rocks and a makeshift jack to lift the car. They then proceeded to wield bent screwdrivers and ill-fitting wrenches to remove tires, axles, and other items I’ve never seen before. After they successfully (yes, successfully!) fixed the problem, my friend forced me into the car while he haggled with them over the price of the repairs. A surprisingly subdued conversation ensued, interspersed with smiles, laughter, angry words, heads shaking in disbelief, occasional gesticulation, and input from another mechanic. Eventually they settled on 1000 Kenyan shillings for repairing the clutch and everyone shook hands and moved on. 1000 Kenyan shillings is roughly $12. The haggling saved us $6. The whole affair took about two hours, during which I made friends with a local soda vendor and turned painfully red from the sun.
  
• The corruption of the uncorrupt. I was walking through a government building trying to find my way to the street to go exchange some money. Signs were posted all around the building saying, “This is a corruption free area.” While I was asking a guard for directions, one of the civil servants came up and offered to “escort” me to my destination. After a long a walk and a couple of sudden quick turns, we ended up in the stall of a woodcarver in a busy market, where I caved in to pressure and exchanged money “locally” (i.e. on the black market). I felt bamboozled, angry, and ashamed.
  
  (I wrote the above yesterday. I had asked my 'escort' to guide me to a cyber cafe as well. The one he took me to yesterday was fine, but run-down, slow, and a long ways from the guest house. This morning I found one at the government building where I originally met this guy...in fact, we were standing right outside it when we met. Grrrr.)
  
• Fresh fruit. For dinner one night, I bought a mango from a woman on the street, and messily devoured it in my hotel room. The only thing I lacked was a good slice of lime.