The past four months have been quiet hard for ordinary Kenyans. A recent report released paint Kenya as the saddest place to live on earth. But so what? The economy, the appreciating dollar, the weakening shilling, the high fuel and food prices, constant strikes and demonstrations, the useless politicians et al have pushed families, as the journalist would say, to the edge of despair. How one can remain on that edge for five months without falling off is anyone’s guess.
So fuel prices have gone up? Those who own cars are not complaining. Food prices have skyrocketed? Still commodities literally fly off the shelves. Apparently everyone in Kenya is underpaid. Strikes have become the norm. Still the real hard working Kenyans are not complaining. City residents are not complaining!
I love Kenya. It is a beautiful country with hard working resilient people who despite the economic crunch still manage to survive. They live in gated communities with 24 hour security from the British owned G4S. They hear of insecurity when BBC or CNN reports of a series of carjacking in the country. Their vehicles are protected and satellite-monitored by Track It. They would sometimes read in the Daily Nation of killings and violence. On a normal afternoon, they usually enjoy the monsoon windy breeze from the second floor balcony of their homes sipping a scotch whisky imported from the UK. They are fully subscribed to the full bouquet of DSTV and they pay an annual subscription in dollars. The US presidential debates are never missed. If they are busy, they will have it recorded.
They import top of the range vehicles from Japan and don immaculate Imani suits from Turkey. Their women spot top designer dresses fresh from Milan or New York Fashion shows. They would have Christian Dior Fur coats, Jimmy Choos shoes, Gucci handbags and Channel sunglasses. They still attend high end parties at Cray Fish Camp in Naivasha and the older ones prefer conservative locations like Windsor. They still drink expensive 15 year old vintage drinks straight from Scottish cellars and wineries.
They own companies or are top dogs in the civil service. The titles from their business cards are CEO, CFO or COO. The lowly among the group would be GMs or EDs. Some work for the UN, Care International or World Vision. The flight mileage is impressive. Then there are the wealthy businessmen! They are the only group referred as such in the country. If you own a successful business and you are not of this group the press would refer to you as a city trader or a popular businessman. Never wealthy! That term was for the few
Their children attend international schools in Kenya. They have to be exposed to the international market they would say. Plus it gave them something to talk about and an opportunity to meet during school plays and art galleries. Notable schools would be Braeburn, Brookhouse and possibly Hillcrest. After such exposure they would never send their kids to Nairobi or Maseno University. Between the lecturer’s strike and students’ unrest chances of their children finishing university at the acceptable international age of 21 years are slim. The UK is the only chance of quality and competitive education. Notable institutions include the famous triad: Oxford, Cambridge or LSE where they too attended and are in the convocation team. For a countryside feel, University of Manchester is an option where an old friend is the MP or Leeds University where his brother emigrated immediately after the coup in 1982.
During weekends, especially Saturdays, you will see men in shorts and open shoes, gold chains and rings with Chanel sunglasses and car keys dangling from their hands at Olepolos in Ngong roasting goat meat watching Manchester United devour Arsenal. Along the dusty road an array of heavy machinery would be parked. From Range Rovers to Mark II’s, Mercedes Benz to Audis. An odd Subaru would be spotted but rare is the spectacle. Often times the Subaru would have a number plate without a letter after the numbers: KYY 321. A vintage they would call it. It was gift from the British colonial secretary to the grandfather whose will dictated it remains in the family. The dons would be spotted dropping in with choppers with news reporters in tow. Sometimes they would all troop to the coast and detoxify after a week of hard work building the nation. Of course they would never drive down to the coast. Fuel prices have skyrocketed. They would fly with Fly 540 where they have a stake. They would never fly with Jet Link. They lack a full bar onboard they say. International flights are of course KLM or Qatar Airways. Kenya Airways services are poor.
Tired of travelling out of town, they would all troop to the private members clubs or the golf resorts in the city. Never would you see them tee off at the greens, they would be in the study discussing a matter of national importance. Of course the appreciating shilling and how to mitigate that. The top bankers would be invited to shed light on the same: How to beat the system, how to make a kill and things like that. The banker is not part of the group, he is simply an invited guest and he would be too eager to please after being served drinks worth his suit. When spotted at the lawns, either the sun is beautiful and they need to bask or there is a championship organized by one of their companies and they had to make an appearance.
Women would be in more serene and peaceful suburbia like Karen or Muthaiga either attending a chama meeting or in spas and beauty parlors getting pimped for the week. Massage, manicures, pedicures, facials and scrubbing would be the norm of course with wine tasting. They would take time to update themselves on their social circle. Like who flew to Dubai for shopping, who went to China on the Barclays Bank business trip, who was it who is having an affair with his gardener. Precious times they call it. It was a ritual actually. No one misses such gatherings at the spa which was owned by one of them. Even if they did not need a facial, they still came. Little children were left at the day care that charged 2, 500 an hour. The meetings at the spa took no less than 6 hours.
Their children, who had either finished masters in Cambridge or are awaiting admission, would be spotted in high end restaurants with top of the range vehicles. Mostly it would be a convertible sports car or a Hummer with loud music blaring. During the night, they would hang out in groups of course drinking either a Malibu or a J & B. The conservatives among them, those still in school, would be seen with a Blue Label or in the extreme cases a Scotch and Soda. At dawn, they would race back home. With no traffic, the need to practice rally driving become strong. Normally the city does not provide such opportunities and going upcountry is out of the question. There is school and yes the city. Sometimes they would cause an accident but normally it would be reported as a minor incident. In very rare cases they would get into a fight and maybe shoot each other. Daring acts can be drawing of a Persian sword 2,000 years old whose brightness alone can make you go blind.
Sometimes the boys would go out of town. In Malindi or Naivasha. They would go as usual in a group. In the middle of the night in Lake Naivasha, they would form a circle with their loud music blaring cars with the headlights on and dance while drinking. Normally they would be in the company of ladies beneath their social status. You will hear of a Shiro, Wamboi or Njeri. You will never see their sisters in that group. The girls are of course abroad studying or holidaying. Their families know each other; they can never date themselves unless it is marriage bound which is arranged of course.
On Sunday husband and wife will get into matching gears with small kids in tow, often a boy and girl, troop into the car and head to church. The older kids would not be in the company. They are either nursing hangovers or injuries or both. Normally the service would be along Valley Road. Conservatives would go to conservative churches. The Baptist Church along Ngong Road or the ACK. The message that day would be about spoiling yourself, because you deserve it, they would say. They never carry bibles, what for and iPads have bible applications. It was faster and efficient. With an iPad in hand, and for those who cannot afford, the projector would be live with bible verses, your work is to listen to the word. Thank God for the iPad, how would we have known where Habakkuk was in the bible? Is it in the New or Old Testament they would ask. Who cares, iPad rule.
In the afternoon they would visit each other to check on the family. Normally a calendar is drawn for that. One would know 2 months in advance that he would be hosting a Sunday get together. Chances are there are no relatives among the clan. Just friends who met in London while studying or in the civil service where they worked their way up. The younger generation present would be those who married within the clan because he was an Oxford surgeon and she was Harvard economist. Chances are they do not live in the country but just flew in for the afternoon meeting. The clan is important.
The conversation would be about the prime property in Kiambu that needs to be developed, the economic prospects of Uchumi supermarket and the court case surrounding the coastal land that a rogue Italian wants to erect a multibillion hotel. They would never allow it. Apparently the hotel would block the sun from accessing the Villa Park Resort that they own as a clan. They also claim it would block the view of the ocean from the balcony of the resort. The sitting judge for the case is the current chairperson for the clan and has a major stake in the resort through his companies of course.
After the meeting, they would troop back home for another week of nation building after promising to meet the next weekend.
Forget the striking doctors or lecturers who earn peanuts, these are the real hard working Kenyans who work tirelessly work for the nation and they never complain!
