Kiswahili!

Hamjambo!

My classmates and I have just finished 7 hours of Swahili training, and though I would love to show you all what I have learned, my mind is so crammed with new sounds and meanings that I think my native tongue, one in which I don't have to consciously think about what I am saying, is the only one I will be able to use for the rest of the day. Other than perhaps the standard phrases of Hujambo and Sijambo, Asante sana (which is what rafiki sing in his squash banana song... which means "thank you"...), and habari gani (what's up, roughly), and nzuri (good) which I am using routinely with people. It's incredible though to be stepping out into the streets today, after our lessons in the Guest House we are staying in, and be able to pick up on some of what people are saying, and are a bit able to join in. I am really looking forward to speaking it more conversationally in the days to come.

Feeling very jet-lagged, and most of us were in bed by 7pm last night. Dinner was dining with zombies.

Waking up this morning was spectaclar thogh; the realization that I am halfway around the world, in a completely foreign culture and place, is damn exciting.

I think I mentioned it in my blog post from yesterday, but the traffic here is out of control. I'd say the thing that most endangers my life everyday are the street crossings. No stop signs. Anywhere. No signs to speak other, other than some standard intersection street signs. Right of way, yielding... ha! Doesn't exist. You have to have some serious gusto to brave these streets in a car. And there are these huge vans, decked out with decals and handpainted mantras and logos, that cruise up and down the streets with a guy hanging out of the side yelling in loud swahili, stopping occasionally to pick up someone that hails them from the side. If I'm ever in dire straights, I think I'll reclaim the totaled mini-van from home and convert it into one of these (can't remember the swahili name for them right now...) and make a little side income. Would certainly be a ride to tell stories about.

It's a cool feeling to have converted some of my US dollars into Kenyan Shillings (exchange is about 75 Ksh to 1 USD), and to now be walking around with them. When I pull them out of my pocket, I have to think about how much they are worth, and it's strange to not immidiately know what you could buy with that money. Just reaffrims the fact that currency is indeed simply paper, and it's the cultural context in which you are in that actually gives that paper any leverage or meaning. Plus, like all other currency, Kenyan shillings are infinitely cooler to look at that bland American dollars. The 1000 Ksh note has elephants on the back. Always a sweet deal. We should have mountain lions on the back of ours. Or bears. Yeah. Something to think about.

I must start my walk back to the guest house -- our group is headed out to an Indian dinner tonight, which will be amazing, no doubt, and then off to do Swahili homework. Heck yes.

More soon from the plains of Africa.

Love,

Zach