Leaving Kenya tomorrow, hopefully the hippo nightmares will cease

I used to have bad dreams about snakes, now it's hippos--always hippos. I guess somewhere deep inside me the 7th grade science student has always known that hippos are like crazy dangerous, but being in Kenya has really driven the point home. I think it has a lot to do with cartoon images and games like "hungry hungry hippos"--I mean, what American child is scared of something that looks like this:

I can't think of a more misleading portrayal of this animal


Last night I had a dream that hippos were loose in an auditorium and chasing everyone around. Just reading this description of hippos from Wikipedia gives me chills.

AGGGHHH!!!!!


So I'm kind of looking forward to getting back to the cartoon world of hippos where they're safely enclosed in the zoo or providing hours of deafening, obnoxious entertainment for five year-olds.


Other things I won't miss too much about Kenya: language barriers. This shouldn't really be an issue I think, since Kenya is an English-speaking country and so is the U.S., for the most part. But for some reason NO ONE understands me in this country. I've stopped counting how many times I've had a conversation like this: (M=me, K=kenyan)

M: Hi, how much is...

K: FINE THANK YOU

M: Ummm, ok, so how.....

K: 3 o'clock....

Even worse are phone conversations where any pause longer than a half a second apparently implies you've completely abandoned the telephone never to return again. Example:

M: Hi, my name is Tracy...

K: HELLO???? YES??? HELLO????

M: Um, yeah, still here, my name is Tracy, I'm calling from Equality Now...

K: HELLO ARE YOU THERE HELLO HELLO ARE YOU STILL THERE???????

M:I'MCALLINGFROMEQUALITYNOWMAYIPLEASESPEAKTOMS___THANKYOUVERYMUCH

K: I'm sorry can you repeat that?

It's truly maddening. Nothing is more frustrating than not being able to communicate to someone who speaks your language. I started carrying around a pen and paper to write instructions for cab drivers after I was 30 minutes late to work one morning when I told the driver "Bishop Tower near the Israeli Embassy, I'm in a hurry" and we were half way to the U.S. Embassy before I realized he wasn't taking a shortcut.

Another conversation I've had at least 15 times:

M: Hi, I'm Tracy, nice to meet you

K: Oh, 'Tracy,' like 'Tracy Chapman'

M: Um, I guess...


Ok, time to go shop, pack, and avoid the toothless crazy man who still yells at me when he sees me. Who would've thought he'd still remember our "encounter" from like a month ago? Though, like I've said before, no one forgets a mzungu in this city. I'd better be on my best behavior.