Week in review

I went to a ridiculous party on Friday night at the home of one of the other American correspondents here. The theme was "New York City blackout" and stringently observed. Everyone dressed in black, candles provided light (cleverly saving the hosts untold amounts on electricity), laminated New Yorker covers served as placemats, there was a martini bar and Statue of Liberty pinata, and the music was provided by -- naturally -- a reggae band. This sort of party is par for the course among Nairobi's expats, but you couldn't pull it off in the U.S. unless you were owner of a small hockey franchise.

Because I had to drive home in the pitch-dark of suburban Nairobi, I abstained from the martini bar, but still got hopelessly lost on the way home, turning a 10-km trip into a harrowing hourlong deathride. The clock had struck 3 am and the gas gauge had dipped past E by the time I got home. Looking at the map now, I see that I basically drove in a near-perfect circle around my house. The highlight was stopping at a gas station (desperation move) about 2 km from home, where a turbaned Indian man pointed me in the right direction before saying, "You should really be careful where you drive at night." Indeed.

Earlier in the week, I was walking through downtown when I heard somone yell, Kem chho, bhaisaheb? This is Gujarati for "How's it going, man?" There are thousands of Gujus in Nairobi but the man yelling at me was a Kenyan eager to show off his linguistic prowess. We made eye contact and he grinned like an idiot. But I liked the fact that, at least from across a busy street, I could pass for an Indian -- and therefore a local.

I've hired a broker to handle the transfer of ownership of the company car, aka The Beast, to my name. This is complicated because I don't have all the paperwork in order, but Tom said he could do it. Tom is a pro. He came to my office every day this week with an update, and when I asked him how he got around certain obstacles (such as not having The Beast's previous owner's signature on the transfer form), Tom would say things like, "You don't need to worry about it." I like the feeling of being somewhere outside the law, so Tom and I get along. On Friday I finally asked him what he'd like as payment. He said not to worry, we'll work it out, and then he added, "I think on Monday I will bring my sister. She is looking for a man." Um, OK.