My name is not John

(Written on Monday night, but I never got to use internet on this trip)

Well, as always, Nairobi is an adventure. I'm only halfway done, but here goes.

The last time I was in Nairobi, a few people in different areas of Nairobi greeted me as John. I was somewhat perplexed, but I didn't put much thought into it until the third time that it happened. Well, three weeks later, people still think I'm John. Now, John seems like he's a friendly guy, and he apparently has friends stretching from Kangemi (the western end of Nairobi) to the Industrial Area (in eastern Nairobi, though not nearly the extremity), but I have enough trouble being Daniel that I just don't think I can handle this second identity.

I got in on Sunday afternoon, and took my time walking around and stretching my legs after the long bus-ride. I got to Upper Hill (a backpacker's lodge) in the afternoon and caught up with Rich and Jessie (they run the place and are really great to just hang out with). Then I caught up with Fiki, Bibi, Luki and Puppy. As you might guess, they're the dogs at the site, and they're one of my favorite parts of coming to Nairobi.

Monday, I was supposed to have a morning meeting, but then it was scheduled for earlier due to a last minute meeting arising, then it was delayed because I forgot how draining travel is, then it was postponed because of flooding. Interesting chain of events.

Instead, I went to the supermarket and bought some rechargeable batteries for my camera. I went to the dealer here in Nairobi who I set up last time I was here, and found that they couldn't get the machine to work. I can tell the source of the crookedness (the rear rack is way out of line), but I couldn't figure out how to fix the alignment, or make it work in spite of that. I went to get a bolt re-threaded, and wound up having to pay 100 shillings ($1.25 for it), which seemed incredibly steep compared to the cost of just buying a bolt (but I knew better than to spend hours searching for the correct size). Still didn't work. I figured I'd return to the technical team with some shots of the set up, but it turns out the batteries were discharged.

I went off in search of a restaurant where I could eat lunch slowly and charge the batteries, and wound up striking out at several places before finally finding a place with outlets in the seating area. I ate lunch as slowly as possible. Then, a woman named Wanjiku had the same idea as I did, so she came and sat at my table and we talked for a while. She's a Kenyan who has lived in the states for a while and she thinks I have a British accent (I checked with Jessie and Rich who agreed that I sound 0% British). I left her to watch my batteries and tried to take care of some errands. Unfortunately, my experience with the currency exchanges were complete failures. There were several in the area, but some closed at 3 PM, others wouldn't exchange Tanzanian currency (that seemed rather ridiculous) and then there was the one offering horrible rates, and as I walked out disgusted, the security guard encouraged me to try to negotiate the rates a bit. That seemed kinda sketchy. During all this time, I had this nagging desire to buy some non-rechargeable batteries so I could get on with my day, but I couldn't bring myself to create battery waste, since there really isn't a good way to dispose of used batteries here. My environmentalist side wouldn't let me but a couple of Duracells and move on.

After that, I ran to FabLab at the University of Nairobi (with enough charge on my batteries for four minutes of use) and took some pictures of their facilities and talked for a while with the director. He was defintiely impressed with our device and business plan and we talked a lot about ways to work together moving forward. I was really excited by the conversation and forgot about all my issues from earlier in the day. Better still, one of the workers in the FabLab was super-excited about the maize sheller and wants to buy some for his home area in Western Kenya. He was excited about the possibility for job creation, but joked that he might be chased out of town by some of the casual laborers who currently shell people's corn. It was really nice to have people excited about the prospect of using the machine for the community, as opposed to personal use.

Then I ran back to the bike shop and used up the last of my battery to document everything there. Then the owner invited me to come back on Wednesday morning and try the set-up on a different bike. I thanked him and headed back to grab a matatu back to Upper Hill.

I knew that I could take the number 46 or the number 48, and since I was closer to the 46, I hopped on. After a couple of minutes, I discovered that the 46 matatu does not go to the same place as the 46 bus (typically buses and matatus with the same number run the same route). In fact, the 46 matatu runs in the exact opposite direction. I got to see one of the slums in eastern Nairobi and everyone on the matatu was giving me looks to remind me that I didn't belong there. I just stayed there and rode the circuit back to town. Everyone sitting around me kept telling me that I was going to get robbed by unknown assailants reaching in through the window (I've been to that part of Nairobi before, and while I don't recommend walking around at night, I was being plenty cautious and never left the vehicle). One gentleman in the vehicle even tried to grab my phone to protect it from thieves (I was too quick for him and had too strong of a grip). Anyway, I made it back to City Centre without event (I read The Economist on my phone most of the time), though I did appreciate the perspective that comes from seeing a different side of the city.

It feels like I had a busy day, but I still have a long to do list, and Nairobi is always more complicated than I'd like.