Back to Justina Again Chatty Chatty Chatty

December 23, 2005. 5:03pm.

Whew, what happened to me? It�s like an alien abducted me for two weeks. I
was miserable. Doing much better now, thanks. Am in Eldoret using FREE
wireless internet at Indiana University again, woo-hoo! Of course it�s down,
but the computer time is free. There are three PCVs baking Christmas cookies
downstairs and I�m keeping them busy by eating them as fast as I can.

Earlier this afternoon I was crossing the highway and ran into my doctor
friend, the one named after the late, exiled president of Uganda. He was
sprung free from boot camp in the Kenyan army just today (the living Milton
Obote, that is), and has been posted to Mombasa to do whatever people do
when they are doctors serving in the army. The point: I now have a friend
who lives steps away from the beach in Mombasa, so all you travel-happy
peeps back home, karibu Kenya! We have a place to stay on the beach!

Kenyan Mystery #3052. Today I asked a guy, in English, �Do you know where
the post office is?�

�Yes,� he said, and continued reading his newspaper. I waited for him to
start giving me directions, but he didn�t.

�Um, where is it?� I said after a minute had passed.

�Oh!� he said. �It is just down the road. Come, I will show you the way.�

Later I was trying to find my way to IU, so I flagged down a bodaboda (bike
taxi).

�Unajua Indiana University?� I said. Which means, Do you know where Indiana
University is?

�Go down this way, you�ll see a junction after all the bodabodas. Turn right
and follow the road,� he said in Kiswahili.

Why is it that if I ask a question in Kiswahili people know what I�m talking
about, but if I ask the same question in English they don�t?
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During IST someone pointed out that one of the keys to building trust and
friendships with Kenyans is to give them credit for being able to understand
cultural differences, by being honest when they do something that bothers
you, instead of keeping quiet. I thought it was insightful advice and I�ve
been trying to apply it more often in my interactions with Kenyans. I�m
still learning to be tactful.

�Justina, you look fat!� one of the counselors at my VCT told me last week
with a big smile on her face. She tells me I look fat at least once a week,
and I always just say, �Great, thanks a lot,� and stalk off.

This time I said, �God, that�s so rude. Don�t say that to me anymore.�

�But you do look fat,� she said, visibly hurt.

�Okay, look,� I said. �In the U.S. it�s impolite to tell someone they look
fat. People like to look thin. I know it�s the opposite here, but Americans
don�t like it when you tell them they look fat.�

�Oh, I see now,� she said, looking relieved. �In Kenya it is healthy to be
fat. It is not good to tell someone they are thin. It�s so funny how
opposite!�

I declared a small, clumsy victory. Yesterday was not so graceful. I was
walking in the forest on my compound, and ran into my neighbor�s brother
(the hottie), who is visiting for the holidays.

�What are you reading?� I said, then saw the book and immediately regretted
asking.

�Oh, it�s a book on spirituality,� he said. �Let me ask you, are you a
Christian?�

I spent the next five minutes trying to dodge the question of why I used to
go to church and no longer do. How do I explain to a devout Christian that
it disgusts me the way Christian (and other religious) teachings are
perverted in order to control the way people think and act?

�I think you should reconsider your decision,� he said. �You need to revive
your spiritual life again.�

�My spirit is doing just fine, thanks. It didn�t die,� I said. �I have to go
make a phone call now I�ll see you later bye.�

Later I wondered why I didn�t try to explain it to him. Christianity is the
one topic that instantly puts me on the defensive with Kenyans. But I sensed
that he wasn�t trying to judge me or shame me into repentance for my heathen
ways. At one point he said, �I really just don�t understand how someone
cannot follow a religion.� And he meant it in the purely objective sense.

But because I was feeling really defensive I said, �Well, it�s pretty common
in the U.S. not to follow any organized religion. It�s just a choice; it�s
not because we�re immoral or something.�

�I know, I understand,� he said, perplexed as to why I was getting so worked
up.

I�m off to Mt. Kenya for a week, but I�ve decided that if he�s still in town
when I get back to my village that I�ll try to explain it to him. If nothing
else it will expand the boundaries of my composure. Can a mzungu get a
Kenyan to understand her views on religion without flying into a defensive
fury?

I find that many Kenyans also don�t give mzungus any credit for being able
to integrate into Kenyan culture, and I blame it on all the mzungus who
refuse to eat ugali. Every Kenyan is blown away that I can say a single
greeting in Kiswahili after being here for six months, that I wash my
clothes myself, and that I eat beans. BEANS. I ran into my neighbors, two
teachers at the school, on my way to the shamba last week.

�Oh, you have a shamba?� they said, visibly impressed. �Who�s digging it for
you?�

Why would they assume that someone else would dig it for me? Mzungus have
hands, too.