Kristin's Kisumu

So my new roommate took me to Kisumu recently. She visited Kisumu as a student several times, meaning that she knows the town. This one was my third time in Kisumu. It's Kenya's third largest city, resting laguidly on the banks of Lake Victoria. Apparently there's hippos out in the lake. I keep promising myself that someday I will actually pay the money to go out in a boat for a quick looksie. So far, no dice.

Instead, I spent my weekend in Kisumu fulfilling my need for rest and relaxation. The Friday night, Kristin took me out for kuku choma (roasted chicken). It's a tradition that's taken off all over Kenya. Tribes used to eat it at celebrations, but now you can find various types of choma all over the country. This particular choma restaurant catered to your average kenyan. And Kristin and I paired our kuku choma with some ugali so we could call ourselves truly Kenyan. Ugali is the principal plate of Kenya. It's a thick, white paste that can be rolled into balls made out of corn flour. Usually people eat ugali with meat stew and vegetables. Kenyans adore ugali. One Kenyan told me that he hadn't eaten unless he had eaten some ugali. This stance means that pasta, pizza, meat and potatoes or any other type of Western food counts as a snack for your average Kenyan. Also, every Kenyan is absolutely shocked that Canadians do not include ugali in their daily diets. In the night air of Kisumu, ugali and kuku choma were perfect.

My second cultural experience of the night was an outting to the local African nightclub called "Sunspot." I loved this nightclub. It played only african music from various countries. Music from the Congo in Lingala is quite popular. In general, African music is quite chill with beats akin to reggae (another music style most Kenyans enjoy). And, of course, people dance. I found the Kenyan club experience to be really chill. I didn't feel any pressure to dress in a particular way either. I went in a t-shirt and pants and had a ton of fun. Most of the Kenyan women were more dressed up than I, admittedly. I felt so little pressure to look, act or dance a certain way at the Kenyan club that I couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't my exemption as a foreigner from the culture's pressures. Obviously, it doesn't mean the same thing for me to go to the club as it does for a Kenyan woman.

After a chat with my co-worker, I think I have a better idea of what a club would be like for a Kenyan girl. For starters, Kenyan women don't want to pick up at the club. It's only going to be a one night stand. The most popular pick up joint in Kenya is actually church. Not surprising I suppose considering the number of people that go to church. Also, there's stories about how men go to church pretending to be faithful until they find a nice girl, and then completely abandoning their faith. Back to the club experience though. Going to a club, as a Kenyan woman, connotes some liberality because generally nice girls don't frequent clubs or at least not often. Also, clubs host many prostitutes. I suppose it's best as a guy to be wary at the club of being picked up by a prostitute.

As for me, I had a blast dancing and watching the locals dance. It was also the first time that a guy danced to impress me. He shook his hips and moved his shoulders beside me. I have to admit that the effect he wanted was somewhat lost on me because it just made me laugh. Still had a blast.

The next day was spent chillaxin' by the pool at the Kisumu Hotel. Most of the people in the pool were white foreigners because most Kenyans do not know how to swim. As a general rule, Kenyans are terrified of water. In Webuye, I had the pleasure of watching a little Kennyan boy learn how to swim. I have to admit that it was quite amusing. The boy wouldn't put his face in the water. Imagine a front crawl without your face in the water while your arms windmill into the water creating big splashes as your head awkwardly turns to try and keep pace with your arms. It made my neck sore just watching the boy's head shake back and forth to match his spinning arms. Of course, the amount of chlorine in the pool kept me from putting my head in for any length of time, but serious swimming requires a good pair of goggles.

After the pool, we went to the mall for a good cup of coffee and piece of cake. It was the weirdest thing to see a mall with a parking lot in the middle of Kenya. This one looked and felt just like a mall in Canada. Of course, the iced coffee and chocolate cake were a welcome treat. Not sure why I miss coffee shops so much when abroad, but it's a place that I miss.

Finally, we went to a concert. I'm not even sure what the name of the artist was now. It was at a little bar. The stage was quite far back from the crowd and the performers weren't really paying that much attention to the audience. Weirdest was that to one side of the "stage" a tailor worked presumably on showing costumes. Perhaps we were just too early, but it was the strangest concert I've ever been to.

The neatest part of the concert was the dancing. They had employed one dancer, although half way through he was joined by a street kid. Man, could these boys dance. To this day, I don't understand how they isolated their hips to make that movement. The street kid started getting cheers from the crowd. Coolest though was that he motioned me to come dance with him. So me and Kristin went out to show him some mzungu (white person) moves. The white people dances basically invovle lots of big arms and some of the classics, such as the shopping cart, swim, skiier, bus driver etc. He copied us and we tried to copy him. This kid had such sass about him. Quite gutsy really to barge into a concert and start dancing. I was sad to see him sniffing glue because I thought he had such talent. Another example of how poverty causes lots of wasted potential.

Anyhoo, that was my weekend in Kristin's Kisumu. I think we managed to hit all her favourite spots including the nice hotel with free wifi. Oh and we went out for kick-ass indian food. For a place with a fairly substantial indian population, I'm not sure why indian restaurants aren't more common, but such is life.

Here's a quick recipe for Ugali

Corn flour
Water

Boil the water. Pour in the flour. Stir until you have a thick paste or dough. Some Kenyans say that it should burn a little at the bottom to be properly cooked.