An average day

Now that we have arrived in Kenya, we are now falling into a routine as life becomes a bit more normal. I (Nate) am forging ahead in Swahili while Jill began teaching the little ones this morning. Let me try to give you a glimpse into a typical day for the Milton household at the moment (at least from Nate's perspective)...

Just around 7am (that's 1 in the morning Swahili time), Jill's alarm on the safaricom cell phone stirs us awake. Jill heads to the shower and I make a b-line for the hammock on the front porch, Bible in hand, ready to meet Jesus. Unfortunately, after I open the curtains in the kitchen, and begin to open the large, metal door that separates the kitchen from the porch, the cold "winter" air of Nairobi hits me, and I realize that shorts and a t-shirt will not do in 50 degree weather. I close the door, head back to our room, and put on jeans and a wool sweater so that I can read without shivering. Once I return to the hammock, I decide to open my Bible and review the life of Jacob found in Genesis, because the elders of the SF Church have asked me to teach this coming Saturday, and I've decided to pull out some lessons from this account. While I sit on the hammock, I notice our temporary guard, Kevin, mulling about the lawn. He's gardening a bit, making sure that the mango, banana, and avocado trees stay strong and bear a ton of fruit. He also wanders over to the fire pit that burns all of our trash and pokes around. The two guard dogs, German-shepherd mutts, look on.

After I finish reading, I join Jill to eat some baked oatmeal, while she enjoys a small bowl of corn flakes. Amber, a friend of ours from home who is staying with us until this Friday, joins us at the table, and we enjoy a quiet breakfast. Around 7:45 (that 1:45 Swahili time), Jill finishes preparing for work, grabs the keys to the toyota carolla found in a beaded basket above the water heater, unlocks the padlock that protects our house at night, and heads out the door. I hear the echo of the door reverberate through the tile-laden hallway. Soon afterward, Amber's taxi pulls up and Kevin, the guard, ascends the stairs in the hallway to let our guest know about the arrival. Amber rushes out the door, so she can arrive in the city by 8:30am or 9, depending on traffic.

After this rush of activity, I head for the computer in order to catch up on email and practice Swahili before my 9am lesson. I run through the various noun classes, and review vocabulary until I hear a soft knock at the door, always at the stroke of 9. I greet Mualimu (teacher) Kiplimu with a hearty "Habari? Habari safari? Habari watoto? . . .", until I know that all news regarding him, his trip and his children are all just "nzuri." He takes off his shoes, and we head to the kitchen for the latest installment of Kiswahili. While Kiplimu gathers his thoughts and organizes his things, I ask, "unataka kunywa chai?" and, after he responds affirmatively, I begin to make some tea--one cup for each of us. We review the lesson, and, for the next two hours, plunge into some new material. The time moves quickly, because Kiplimu teaches very well.

After the lesson, I take a much-needed break from Swahili. I pull down some of the two dozen avocados that we picked last week and have stored to ripen, and make myself a light lunch. After eating, I decide to do something special; after all, today is our first anniversary. After I send a 16 cent (10 shilling) text to Jill wishing her "happy anniversary," I pick up the keys to the station wagon, and head out for Westlands. After Kevin opens the large black metal gate to the street, I pull out onto the left hand side of the road, and cautiously weave in and out, trying to avoid hitting the many people walking to work. I pass Jill's workplace, the US Embassy, and the United Nations complex all in a matter of minutes, and reach the main road called, "Limuru." I turn right and head west, and then south towards Westlands, a hilly 10 km ride that takes about 15 or 20 minutes by car. Right before I enter this section of Nairobi, I pass a large, Western-looking mall with fountains, escalators and a movie theater on my left, and reach my destination: a flower market. In time, I approach each of the vendors and utilize the vocabulary that Kiplimu has provided: I want (ninataka), to buy (kununua), flowers(maua). The vendors give me a strange look, and each respond in English. I press on. After I choke out these few words to each individual, I systematically buy ten roses of each of the seven colors that they have for Jill. I also throw in some sunflowers to remind us of Jill's flowers on our wedding day. The bill comes to $12. Not everything in Nairobi is expensive. I head home, begin preparing dinner, and review the Swahili lesson.

After I pick up Jill from school and we eat dinner, the last bits of sun fade away soon after the clock strikes 7pm, and I coax Jill into giving me a haircut. Fortunately, we can use the hair clippers that we purchased at Nakumatt, Kenya's version of Target, for this task. Jill nervously gives this new skill a try, as Amber documents the event with pictures. I'm satisfied with the end result, and feel much more kempt in the end.To finish the day, Jill prepares lesson plans for the next day, and I set a pot of water on to make chai that I can share with the guard. I use a standard Kenyan tea bag, and add sugar and milk, and gingerly transport two steaming cups out the clanging door, down the echoey stairs, through the courtyard and to the guard's meter by meter quarters. I chat with Josefat, the night guard, in broken Swahili as he chuckles and answers in English. Still, I keep chatting until the downstairs neighbor calls Josefat away to wash a very tacky car with silver rims, neon blue lights, a massive spoiler, and large dollar-bill stickers placed in the tinted windows with the neighbor's face replacing that of George Washington. Truly, Kenya is a unique place.

I return upstairs and finish reviewing vocab, and soon after the Milton household heads to bed to await another day.