Nick Wadhams

British Airways - Yay!

We are now in the U.S. for an extended holiday just having experienced two eight-hour legs on British Airways, to London and then to Washington.

As much as it galls me, I must say that the experience was wonderful. The flight attendant made sure that we got the one bassinet on the entire 747, and Kid slept the whole way from Nairobi to Heathrow. The inflight meal was positively tasty and the movie options were numerous. From Heathrow to Washington we again got the bassinet and plenty of room. When our stroller didn't make it, we got a $50 debit card from BA for our troubles.

So though I am still peeved at having had to pay more than $500 for a child that is still no larger than the Penguin Classics edition of "War and Peace," overall, the flight experience was great.

I must say that my mood may be swayed somewhat by the fact that I am writing this from the home of a friend who lives about 100 feet from Venice Beach in California. The weather is perfect, the surf is crashing, and it is so nice to be home for a little while. Thanks, British Airways, for getting us here.

One of many things I've noticed so far: the California freeways! I'd lived in Los Angeles during my college years, so I knew about them. But for the first many miles after I arrived, I was still in Nairobi-driving mode, driving with trepidation and looking out for potholes big enough to destroy your vehicle. Finally, I realized I could just floor it. Such a thrill.

HBD

Having a May 9 birthday gave me lots of cache when I lived in Russia because May 9 is Victory Day, the day the Soviet Union officially won World War II. Given the significance that Russians (rightly) give their WWII victory, being born on May 9 (the 30th anniversary, no less!) was like having a birthday on Christmas, the Fourth of July, Labor Day, Easter, Memorial Day and Thanksgiving all rolled into one. It was about as blessed as you could get in a once officially atheist nation.

From a brief Wikipedia perusal, I learn that I share a birthday with John Ashcroft, Rosario Dawson, Tony Gwynn and many other semi-famous people. I also learn that those unfortunate enough to die on May 9 include Tenzing Norgay and Chechen President Akhmad Kadyrov. I interviewed Kadyrov at the Waldorf in New York a few weeks before he was killed in a bomb blast. The explosives blew up the stadium seating in Grozny where he was watching a Victory Day parade. I'm unsure of the significance of this, but even though Kadyrov struck me as a bit of a thug, it's still kind of sad.

Hey Mr. Rhino

One of the surprising things about 10-week-old babies is that they're highly portable, as we found out when we went to Lake Nakuru last weekend. Nakuru itself is neat but slightly depressing. The park is fenced off and bordered by a major city and a highway, so it feels more like an oversized zoo than untrammeled wilderness. I suppose that's Kenya these days (though the Mara, the Tsavos and the northern two-thirds of the country are different).

At first I was worried that we wouldn't see any rhinos, but by the end it was like, whoopdee-doo, there's another one, keep driving. We saw lots of pelicans but the flamingoes had departed for greener-algaed waters. I tried in the most minimally invasive way possible (whistles, cat-calls, insults) to get a buffalo to charge our vehicle, but no luck.

The best part by far was subjecting our daughter to only the mildest form of torture as we took her picture with as many beasts as possible. Here's the best one, taken along the southern shore of Lake Nakuru shortly before 7 p.m. The bars are the roof rack of our trusty 1989 Mitsubishi Pajero.

More pictures after the jump.

Why The West Wing? (UPDATED)

A quick follow-up to the last post (and subsequent comment): Why do British people love The West Wing so much?

The thing I forgot to mention previously is that pretty much every person who has said The West Wing is his favorite show is a Brit. Few Americans feel such ardor for Martin Sheen and Rob Lowe. I personally choked on all the saccharine, rah-rah, "THIS is the America we want" baloney, so I would have thought that two of the Nairobi press corps' most wisecracking and Amero-skeptical Brits would surely have despised it.

Yet it is these very gents who love it so! Are they so disappointed with the U.S. in real life that they can't help but be hypnotized by such an absurd fantasy? Fish and chips for thought, I guess.

UPDATE: It turns out I'm not the only one to notice this. See this from The Washington Post in 2006.

TV Watching

Every expat around here seems to have his favorite television series. Some might say The Shield; others prefer Lost. At least several chums suggest The West Wing, which I, in my limited viewing experience, have had trouble abiding because it's just too reasonable, too earnest, too well-scripted for its own good. Seven seasons of so many bon-mots, so many sorrowful looks and such poignancy would be insufferable.

Along with the rest of humanity, I've been entranced by The Wire. We're through season four, with season five awaiting us at the local (pirated) DVD store. Season four had the best individual plot line in the tale of four schoolkids, but overall could not compare with the epic Barksdale family story arc from the first three seasons.

Before delving into season five, we've decided for a little, um, lighter fare: season four of 24. So far, it's the best season yet. No cougar traps, no brothers named Hector and Ramon with horrible accents, fewer plot lines that bubble up and pop in the course of one or two episodes, their only purpose, seemingly, to stall for time.

Customer Care Insanity -- the wrapup

After nearly six weeks, our Internet service has been restored. In the end, our provider, Swift Global, switched its ur-provider from Kenya Data Networks to Access Kenya, a process which took about five minutes.

The reason things got fixed so suddenly is pretty simple. We share internet with Mario, an insane older Italian guy who lives upstairs. He'd been away for most of the first month of our Internet blackout, and when he returned, he called Swift Global and blew his stack. When they failed to correct the problem, he blew his stack about 50 more times.Then they corrected the problem, probably just to keep him from blowing his stack again.

I have long resisted using the shouting tactic because it strikes me as brutish and disrespectful. But my approach -- lots of cajolery, efforts to make Swift Global feel guilty, trying to build friendships and foster sympathy -- just relegated me to the low-priority list.

"They always end in doom when such concerns are ignored"

Sometimes the newspapers here are just great -- for example, this story in the Daily Nation today about Kenya's new water and irrigation minister, Charity Ngilu.

"Tears accompanied her sacking from  the Ministry of Health in December 2007, but instead of being overwhelmed by the emotions shown by her staff, she made a more prophetic statement and took the dismissal in her stride.

The staff wept but she uttered the words “I will be back” as tears rolled down the cheeks of her close allies after being relieved of her duties  by President Kibaki.

Mrs Charity Kaluki Ngilu kept the faith of not fearing authority that only threatened her body but could not kill her spirit, by uttering the  words known to have tied  Christians to be apostles of Jesus Christ. It was clear to her the side she supported would win.

Jesus also said; “I will be back” and this act of faith keeps Christianity burning the flame of resurrection from the dead and life after death for those who have kept the word."

Power of women

The powerful words she uttered with a smile and drove her vehicle out of Afya House today confirm her faith. Looked at differently, the words reinforce the belief in the power of women, who use words and action to mobilise success.

Although the Presidential results were disputed, Mrs Ngilu is now the minister for Water and Irrigation, thanks to Mr Kofi Annan, who brokered the National Accord and Reconciliation Act, which midwifed the power sharing deal between ODM and PNU.

In  some communities, it is believed  that a woman’s warning always comes true.

It is conventional wisdom among many Africans that when one’s wife warns her man against travelling or getting into a deal, they always end in doom when such concerns are ignored.

All hail the flag

Odd moment: I'm walking out of the Kibera slum a few days ago in the middle of a crowd of several hundred people. Suddenly, a whistle blows faintly and everyone for about 100 yards in every direction comes to a halt and stops talking.

I look around in puzzlement and notice, in the courtyard of a police station to my right, a tattered Kenyan flag being lowered from a flagpole that's only about 10 feet high. Once it's down, a policeman blows a whistle and everyone starts up again.

What a strange and affecting moment of ceremony. Ironic, too, since this patriotism is on display in Kibera, where anti-government sentiment runs high. I ask someone next to me what would happen if people kept walking during the flag-lowering. "You'd be arrested for failing to show sufficient respect for the national flag," he says. So much for patriotism.

In some Nairobi movie theaters, they play the national anthem (accompanied by footage of a Kenyan flag waving in the wind) before every showing. Presumably no one is watching to report you if you don't stop slurping your Coke, stand up and take off your hat. No different, I suppose, than the U.S. national anthem being played before sporting events back home, but strange that patriotism goes on display in a darkened movie theater.

Paying for Protests

Some of the most widely disseminated images of protesters from Kenya's post-election crisis were filmed along a road that runs down a hill and into Nairobi's Kibera slum. It was a convenient spot for lots of us reporters to go and get our daily dose of demonstrations. Some stoned-looking kid was sure to bring out a car tire and set it alight. Angry chants would begin. The police would then oblige us by firing tear gas (and sometimes, it was claimed, live bullets) and then charge the crowds with made-for-TV whoops.

After a while, the demonstrations began to feel a little bit canned, and some of us felt sheepish about watching. Sometimes it seemed that the protests would only reach a fevered pitch once a critical mass of television crews and photographers had arrived.

Yesterday, I came across a guy in Kibera named Yusuf who claimed that while some of the earliest protests in Kibera were spontaneous, it was little mor e than show from the very start. According to Yusuf, agents of both parties told people in Kibera to gather groups willing to protest for money. The names would be written down. On days when the party agents wanted protesters out on the streets, they would call the group leaders and pay them 300 shillings per demonstrator if everyone appeared at the appointed place and time. Yusuf said that he himself saw agents from opposition leader Raila Odinga's party drawing up these lists and paying out the cash.