Shopping with Mama

Tues. July 21
Today we made our way back to the city. The capital. The busyness of the country. Oh man! It’s crazy how quickly I get tired from the constant commotion, movement and quickness of big cities especially Nairobi. We have been warned on several occasions that this is a “mean” city by natives, other Africans, and muzungus who have visited.

Anyway, Nairobi here we are here and the benefits come in the package. We are staying in the same hotel that we stayed before going to the country. A nice bed, pillows, and even a hot shower tonight on the docket. It’s too good to be true. The only thing left is a slice of pizza and I would be in heaven. But alas, I am still on earth and enjoying a PBJ and Pepsi Light.

Such is the life after a crazy day in the market. Imagine if you will a parking lot that has been left to rot and collect trash, mud and weeds. On top of that put 1000 people in random rows, sitting on tarps, blankets, small stumps. On top of that are wares from all over the city and village and China probably, waiting to be bought for that “really special price” that only Muzungus can get. But in case you were afraid of getting lost or overwhelmed by the choice, you could have 5 of your very own tour guides to lead you through the market. “Touch is free.” “For you a good price.” “Where are you from?” “Come see my shop.” “I haven’t sold anything-be my first customer.” (@ 1:30pm) These guides will help you navigate between the guy with carved encklaces to another guy selling seemingly the same necklaces. But don’t forget that bowls, purses, scarves, shields, masks, utensils, batiks, drums, hats, dresses, baskets, chess boards, note cards, bracelets, and “laptop” bags are all available…essentially on every row. “Just look.” “Support me.” “It is yours for a very nice deal.”

Thankfully, we took Mama Monica with us. She shows no mercy and no white skin so our money and pride was saved and well spent. Jami and I decided to look around first, just to confirm that most plots sold the same items or very similar. And we were certainly accompanied. Brokers were on the two blondes like bears on honey. But we walked slowly, remained calm, looked with our eyes, and kept our few possessions in tight grip. Eventually, they disappeared, their efforts fruitless. One of the guys who left early told the remnant following to leave us alone. “They hate you.” I’m not sure if he thought we showed animosity or if he was doing us a favor. Either way, we looked freely from then on, only confronted every once in a while be a very persistent man selling copper bracelets. I could get 10 for 100 SH to 1000 SH ($.80-$13). I declined all the offers, sorry friends. After perusing for a good while and finding just the right things for those special folks in our lives, we called upon Mama to make the deal. She did not fail us, not once, and even made sure the quality was up to standard.

These exchanges between vendor and muzungu, Mama and her white kids, and money hand to hand reminded me of my shopping with my mom when I was seven. I had saved my allowance and birthday money for a very special something, or until it started burning a hole in my piggy bank. I had spotted a very small furry pink chair at Kmart that was meant for me. It looked like just the throne for a princess. So here is the kid, giving the mom her money to make a deal for this unique item. Well, just as Mama Monica helped us find just the right thing and avoid the rest, so did mine way back when. I was better off without the pink chair in the end (seven year olds grow pretty quickly) and I am better off without the overpriced necklace and scarf.