Saying goodbye to Nairobi

This is my last post from Nairobi, at least for this stay. After eight months, I leave on Saturday for a long trip back to the U.S. – home for the holidays, as they say.

I will really miss being here. There was a time when I would have never said that; I once considered Nairobi to be a pit-stop on the road to hell. But over the past eight months, I have come to enjoy the city, with its constant congestion, pollution, election campaigning, idiotic drivers, and all of the vibrant life that is associated a growing sub-Saharan African city. And the crime that everyone talks about is really not all that bad. Of course, you have to be careful, especially at night. However, if you are smart, and conscious about what you are doing, the crime is manageable—just like any other big city. In fact, I have had more problems in Tanzania (a country not known for its crime) than in Kenya (which have been none).

The weather has changed recently; we are now in the middle of the short rains—the mornings are usually cold and wet, and by mid-afternoon the sun is out again. Presidential elections are being held here on December 27th, so the campaigning is really heating up. The incumbent (Kibaki) and his main rival (Odinga) are very close in the polls, and the tension is increasing by the day. As a side note, someone told me there were 21,000 candidates registered to run for various positions on Election Day—21,000! Oh, democracy.

I recently had a co-worker drive me around Nairobi. He wanted to show me the outskirts, and said we would get real nyama choma for lunch—a local meal of roasted meet (usually goat meet). When you are able to get good nyama choma, it is really good. But bad nyama choma terrible. He promised it would be good.

After driving around for a while, we approached the Ngong Hills, a series of hills that signal the edge of the great Rift Valley. Well, to my amazement, we went through the hills and down the slopes into the valley. The change of landscape is immediate, from lush green to dry savannah. We were going to a town called Olepolos, south-west of Nairobi. I was doubtful; we appeared to be in a desolate place, in the middle of nowhere.

We kept driving for a bit. I was just enjoying the scenery, amazed at how dry the area was. Then, all of the sudden, we made a left at a sign that said “Olepolos County Club.” Country Club? Here?

We climbed a steep hill, and to my complete amazement, there was a nyama choma restaurant perched at the top of this hill, with terraces built into the side of the mountain where guest would sit and eat. The view south over the Rift Valley was unobstructed, and incredible.

To give you a flavor of what nyama choma is, let me explain the ordering process. We walked up to what looked like a butchery. You don’t order your meal from any sort of menu; you pick out your raw slab of meet. The man behind the counter simply asks you how many kilos you want. One? Two? One and a half?

We ordered the meat, with some sides (some pili-pili, which is a hot chili sauce, and a Kikuyu concoction of mashed potatoes, corn, onions, and some greens). When the food was finally ready, a waiter brought a the big slap of roasted goat on a cutting board, and proceeded to hack this piece of meat to little bit-sized bits, right in front of us. And just to prove that the meat was ok, he helped himself to a piece…

The process: take some meat, dip it in a bit of salt, then dip in pili-pili, and eat. Heaven…

I surely will miss living here.

Happy holidays to all. See you soon.