DAY 7: The Market and my little friend…

I had to go buy souvenirs today. 

Which feels awkward after a day in Kibera, but in a weird way, it helps the city. I’m “supporting” the people who live in the slums, they are the merchants at market. At least that is what every vendor told me.

The Maasai Market.
This is one of the weekly open air flea market style operations in the city. Tuesday is the day to go if you want the most “authentic” experience. You know I’m nothing if not “authentic” so I blocked today off last week to go see the experience. I got the driver, Ignatius, I mentioned again. He is such a great guy. He will talk when I want to talk and allow silence when I’m trying to process what’s going on. He told me the story of the violence that rocked Kenya in the early months of the year. He said that the violence had stopped, but the tribal friction remained under a thin veneer of politics. It was weird to have a conversation about civil violence in the same city that seemed so calm today.

We parked downtown and went in search of the meter-maid. They wear bright yellow trench-coats. There are no meters. You park, go find the maid, buy a ticket with cash, return to your car, and display it on the dash. This isn’t like the lot system where the attendant is looking for you…you have to go FIND her. We walked two blocks. I love this part. I look into the windows of the shops and see how they organized and sell products. My favorite is hardware stores. Don’t think Home Depot. Check this out: You walk into a store. There is a small waiting area and a counter with five or six clerks. It’s like an auto parts store without aisles. You tell them you want: a toilet seat, plumbing part, or whatever. Then they disappear into the shelves behind the counter and return with whatever version of that item they have in stock. And you don’t want to know the prices.

Back to the market.
We turn the corner and there it is. Colors and people in vibrant, rich saturation. I’m not going to detail individual experiences as don’t wish to reveal what gifts I may (or may not) have picked up for you dear reader, but I’ll tell you about the big picture. Every four feet is a blanket laid out with African beads, crafts, or clothing. This isn’t shopping. It is relational. Every blanket-keeper greets you. Not the half-hearted American “Welcome to Mooby Burger.” This is enthusiastic you-are-a-celebrity. I am so happy to see you. Remember, this is Kenya with the friendliest people in the world. They want to say “hello” AND they want you to buy something. Every four feet, on both sides of a two foot aisle packed with people. I greeted and talked to more people in four hours than in a week back home. It was draining.

I returned home after missing lunch. I ate a snack and went to chat with D before dinner. After we finished our talk I went for a walk. (Yes outside. I do that a lot here thank you very much) Then I saw it.

A chameleon.

You know the ones with the curly tails and weird eyes? Yes that one. Totally just sitting on a branch. I was by myself, but I knew what would happen if I was with D and the girls. They would spend fifteen minutes looking at him. And  maybe, just maybe D would pick him up. So I did. Only for the joy of the how excited they would be to see him.  I can’t fathom how much a child would enjoy the beauty of Africa. I wonder how much of it I miss being insensitive to nature.

I held him in my hand for five minutes taking pictures of him like I was L.A. paparazzi. I miss my girls. Seeing so many things alone is kind of melancholy when you have no one to share the experience with. This week has been so busy, so eventful, so relational. Sometimes I wonder if any of it really happened.

I think that is why I write to you.