Host Family and Soccer Game

            Yesterday I went to a football cup qualifying game of Kenya versus Togo.  My host dad Maxwell is a huge fan of football and goes to every single Kenya Harambee Star’s game (the National team).  Doesn’t matter what time or what day, Maxwell will always be in the VIP section of every game like the die-hard fan he is.  Football is always playing on the tv- whenever he isn’t blasting Nairobi’s number one hits 100.3 kiss on the radio that is.  When he told me about the game I jumped on it- I have never been to any big sporting event before! I invited my friend Matt who is a soccer player and we went along with Maxwell and a couple of his colleagues from work.  A couple days before the match, Matt and I decided that we couldn’t fully enjoy the football game without going all out- face paint, jerseys, and flags.  We spent the entire day on Tuesday walking around Nairobi in search of the Kenyan team jerseys- which was not an easy thing to do. Every store that usually carries them was sold out because of the upcoming game but we were determined that one store would have them.  After the day was over we were empty handed.  Everyone who tried to help us would always lead us to their shop or their friend’s shop- if you bring a mzungu (white person), you get paid. Every time I ask for directions or where to find something I am never lead in the right direction.  They are always so very eager and excited to help but they don’t actually help- I usually end up in the middle of a market as men and women are pushing necklaces and beaded belts in my face.  I always find it quite difficult to escape the mob of a market, the don’t take no for an answer and will do anything they can to lure you into their shop.  They’d say “looking’s free,” “you are a respectable American girl, I give you good price,” or “you are a student, I know you struggle so I give you student price.” Obviously these discounts are complete rubbish.  I tried to buy four post cards and they offered 1000 kshs or $10 USD.  We are always overpriced and it is very tiring trying to bargain.  Anyway, we gave up looking for jerseys and supplies because we kept on getting turned around in circles and or followed by store owners. 

            The day before the game my dad decided to skip work and help me look for jerseys.  He took me down into the ‘no-go-zone’ part of Nairobi where we easily found a couple stores that had Kenya jerseys.  I am lucky that he went with me otherwise I would have never found them.  Since Maxwell owns his own business on fire protection, he runs his own hours of operation, which I found most convenient during this time. 

            The day of the game Matt and I were set with our jerseys got Tusker flags and bandanas and was ready to go.  We sat in the VIP section with Matt which wasn’t must different from the regular seating but it was higher up and the barbed wire fence wasn’t in the way, and most importantly we were away from the mobbing crowed in the first couple rows.  We counted the mzungus as they came in- and no wonder why white people sometimes receive a bad name as being clueless because this British family was dressed in textbook tourist attire wandering aimlessly trying to find their seats.  Usually Kenyans yell “wazungu!” (white people) when they see any group of white people, and so we yelled it to this family and everybody cracked up.  Usually it’s the Kenyans who yell at mzungus.

            The game was so much fun and such a riot.  Whenever the Kenyan team would touch the ball the crowd would go crazy and run around and lite flares. Everyone was wearing a Kenyan jersey and many painted their whole entire bodies the Kenya- red, black, green, and white. 

         My host family stay has been such a wonderful experience so far, I couldn't have asked for a better family.  One day my host sisters and I made peanut butter and chocolate cookies.  The first batch burnt but then the second batch turned out great and the girls ate them all up.  It has been such a different experience than the rural home stay life. It is hard to imagine that these contrasting life styles exist right next to each other. The rich live right next to the poor.  My only complaint of this stay is the traffic as I've mentioned before.  There is so much of it that when I arrive home, I am so exhausted from sitting in the hot car that I don't want to do anything.  Nothing too exciting happens- after all, I am here to learn and experience the urban lifestyle which entails alot of waiting, and work.  Sometimes my parents don't get home until 12 AM in the morning because of work- and get this, they are not paid overtime.  School has been busy so far.  Since we only have 7 weeks to fit in a semester's worth of classes, each day is filled with school work.  However, I do find time to go out to lunch and go to markets.  A couple days ago I found these awesome cheetah skinny leg jeans that have a gold shimmer haha.  I wore them out the clubs in Westlands and fit right in! The outfits that girls wear out in Nairobi...boy...if only your bother saw you.  The clubs are not much different than the ones in America...(like I'd know..). There is a bar area and a dance floor area, and many have outside seating areas or white tents to smoke hooka in.  The only difference is the dancing.  They like to do what is called the "bend over" which is exactly how it sounds. They bend over and put their arms up by their shoulders and kinda slowly shake their butt and arms. Sounds silly. I haven't been able to post alot since the internet here is very bad but I will keep all updated. I return back to the compound on Friday and will have more free time to write!