Football (that’s soccer for you Americans who are out of touch with the rest of the planet), Barack Obama, Angry Giraffes, and other things you find in Kenya

My first big treat of the trip came on Saturday when Junior and Flo casually asked me if I'd want to go see an LG Cup match between Kenya and Sudan. They seemed a little bit caught off guard by my enthusiasm at this opportunity (I'll admit I was like a kid who had just been offered a shopping spree at a candy store), which surprised me. If the situation was reversed I would be stoked to see the American national team play anybody, and would want them to come along too. I went down to the store to get groceries with Miriam and Flo and get tickets. I think I'm starting to feel comfortable with the short route from the estate to the grocery store they go to, but I'm still shaky on if I could pull it off on my own, mostly because the matatu system still seems like such a mystery to me. The tickets were 500 schillings, so a little over $5, which really just seemed too good to believe to me. Before we left I walked around the neighborhood a little bit with Lois, a young girl who spends a lot of time at the Otienos' house. In walking and jogging half a lap around the estate I had gathered a crowd of about 20 kids who were delightedly squealing and jabbering at me. I headed back home with my posse and sat in the driveway for the next 15 minutes or so talking with them, and mostly answering their questions about America. There were a couple of bold little girls that were the main spokespeople, either because they were the bravest or the spoke the best English, I would guess some combination of both. There were more interesting insights gained, like their fascination with leg hair, and their uncontrollable giggling when I took my hat off and they insisted I looked like Jesus. There's a wonderful picture of me with the whole group that's on Miriam's camera, hopefully I'll be able to get a hold of it and post it, but it appears to me that pictures like that won't be hard to come by. When it was time to go Flo, Lois, Mama Patrick and the visitors came out and Mama Patrick kicked into school teacher mode and seemed to simultaneously quiz the kids on what I had told them and shoo them away so we could leave. I was a little worried about the match just because I knew it would be a pretty crazy atmosphere, and I wondered if it would be slightly dangerous as a mzungu. I couldn't shake from my mind all the crazy stories I'd heard about people being killed or trampled after soccer games in South America. It turned out when we got there that the atmosphere was not so different from that of an American sporting event, though the crowd was definitely boisterous. I was surprised at how many other white people I saw. In fact, I probably saw more at that game than I've seen the rest of the trip combined. The stadium held what I would guess to be in the neighborhood of 8,000 people, and looked like it didn't have more than one or two boxes for more comfortable seating. We sat on some of the concrete benches that made up most of the stadium. The atmosphere was very festive, with flags waving, whistles blowing, vuvuselas buzzing, and much of the crowd jumping around with enthusiasm as the stadium filled up. I got a couple of shouts directed at me for being a mzungu, including one man who came over and put his arm around me and implored me to vote for Obama in the next election. If Obama ever wanted to run for president in Kenya, I think he would take just about every vote from what I've seen so far. Adding to the festive atmosphere, a marching band made their way around the stadium just before kickoff belting out an upbeat tune. A downpour broke out just before the start of the game, and watching people run for the exits was pretty entertaining in itself. We also ran for cover, and emerged about 10 minutes into the game when the rain subsided. Flo explained to me that the Kenyan team was dependent on two talented players who played for high-powered European teams. One of the funniest things that has happened so far on the trip was some of the heckling we heard during the game, which I enjoyed a lot better than American sports heckling (which I also usually enjoy, by the way). First of all, heckling is much better when it's in a rapid fire mix of at least two languages, with people presumably alternating depending on which they felt would better harass the other team and show their support for their national team. Second, you have a lot more significant ammunition for heckling when the side you're facing is the national team of a country that has dealt with years of political strife and civil war and is now about to split. We had one of the crazies sitting (and by sitting I mean standing the entire game) near us who kept yelling something along the lines of, "Which one Sudan? Which one? North or South? I don't know! Which one? Kenya is not divided! Kenya is one!" The game was a very entertaining one, which both sides getting early goals and Sudan going up 2-1 before halftime. I got a couple of weird looks from people around us, I think because they weren't sure why a white person was yelling and cheering for the Kenyan side. Late in the game a fan lit a flare and started running around the stadium with it just outside the barbed wire fence that separated the playing field from the spectator area. I expected him to be apprehended by security, but he made several laps around the stadium, and it was pretty smoky by the time he was done. Kenya got a lot of good chances in the second half, particularly in the last couple minutes, but weren't able to convert and 2-1 was the final score. Despite the loss, an impressive barrage of fireworks began as we left the stadium. The post-game traffic somewhat resembled the grid lock that often accompanies American sporting events, except with the usual lack of regard for traffic laws/other vehicles/where the road is. We walked a couple block away to catch a matatu, because with the crowd waiting outside the stadium you would have probably had to gouge someone's eyes out to make it into one of the matatus. Think competitive bus riding with no rules. We caught one several blocks away that circled back around toward the stadium, but when we hit the traffic jam, our driver, with no hesitation, hopped the curb and begin driving down the rutted, dirt shoulder in a terrorizing manner that rivaled anything I've ever pulled off playing Crazy Taxi. At one point he gunned it to get through a puddle of water that was probably pushing a foot deep, and you could hear the chassis grinding on the curb for a couple seconds. As we came past the stadium, scattering pedestrians, a police officer jumped on the side of the matatu and ordered everyone out. I wish I was making some of this up, but maybe this is just your typical overly entertaining Saturday night in Nairobi. After the matatu had cleared out the police officer jumped in with the matatu and directed him away, maybe to be fined or punished, but this isn't a country where you can take that for granted. We had to walk maybe half a mile along the road past the stadium before we found another matatu. I wasn't a huge fan of being out with the post-soccer match crowd after dark on a Saturday night, but we didn't have any trouble and Flo seemed more annoyed by the inconvenience of the situation than worried, so I guess maybe I'll just try to stop being such a worry wart. We ran into Miriam and Junior downtown, which seemed to me to happen completely by accident, but I'm never sure about that anymore. Miriam's birthday had been on Thursday so we went out to one of her favorite restaurants, a classy Ethiopian place on the other side of town. We had a great time; it was really good to be able to hang out with all of them. Between Miriam working and Junior being in school I don't have as many opportunities to hang out with them as I'd like. This place was also interesting because there was a table of white people, I think Americans if I caught their accents correctly, near us and it was a little bit of a shock to see that many white people in one place. All of a sudden I realized how much I had been off the typical tourist path, and I was very grateful for that.