Swahili 101

Wamba, the town Ethan and Lex visited for their RC reward safari, is nothing more than a dusty x on a huge map, smack in the middle of nowhere. A trading post for the people who live in that remote area, it is only 30 miles from Shaba. But knowing that it took them three and a half hours to get there, gives you some idea of what the roads are like. A twenty minute trip over those deeply rutted, dirt tracks can bring on, at the very least, a headache, but three and a half hours will jar your kidneys into premature failure.

But once they arrived, it seemed that there were no major problems. I do feel, however, that had they been able to speak a little Swahili, the whole thing might have gone better still.

The best way to learn any language is to be thrown to the linguistic lions. Survival is always a very persuasive motivation for learning. And Swahili is actually very easy. Lex and Ethan would have only needed to know about one hundred words to get by. The repetitive nature of many Swahili words makes them easier to remember: sasa and barabara, kati kati, mimi, wewe, and sisi [now, road, middle, me, you, us.] My favorite, "lala salama," means sleep well, or good night, or sweet dreams. Pole would be handy. Pole indicates sympathy. "I want you and your family to know that you have my very deepest and most profound sympathies for this great misfortune that has befallen you. I cannot tell you how sorry I am." Pole sana. (Very sorry.) But pole pole means slow, or slowly. How one gets from sorry to slowly, I have yet to figure out.

As Swahili is a spoken language and was written down by the people, primarily the British, who later arrived in Kenya, it is written as it is spoken. If you cannot think of the right word in Swahili, you just say it with a British accent and attach an ŒI¹ to the end. Witness the names of the objects that arrived with the first white men: blenketti, texi, footi (tapemeasure), whiti, banki. For variety, there is mota ca (automobile).

Being able to use a few Swahili phrases is important because the minute you blurt out even the most basic sentence, it is assumed you live in Kenya. If you are a local and not a wageni (a visitor), you are thought to be wiser in the way things are done. A tourist knows nothing and is, therefore, a perfect pigeon. Which was clearly the case when our two guys hit town.

We first find our two heroes arriving with their goats (and, we must not forget, a camera crew carrying big, fuzzy microphones and assorted cumbersome gear.) The scene they created must have been nothing short of Barnum and Bailey. They further announced that they were not exactly locals by falling all over themselves and the goats as they tried to get them out of the truck. I can see the words "foreigner" and "sucker" beginning to form over their heads as they start their parade down Main Street. Hawking their goats. There is alot of down time in places like Wamba and with this kind of spectacle happening, everyone in town was going to come out to see what was going on. And everyone with a trinket to sell, and there are always plenty of those in Kenya, was lining up for the chance.

This was our chaps first opportunity to say a few words, starting with a simple "Jambo" (hello), followed quickly by "Habari?" (What's the news?) Had they thrown in a quick "leo" (today) or "yako" (yours) the effect could have been stunning.

When asked in return how they were (and you will always be asked Habari? back, it's only polite) they could have answered "Mzuri sana ." ( Very good.) "Mzuri tu" would have been seriously impressive. Tu indicates emphasis, like "absolutely" or "exactly." It loses abit in the translation, but it might have been a deal turner that day in Wamba.

And so now every man, woman, and child knows these guys didn't have a clue what they were doing: they could be had. Our guys were, after all, strangers in a strange land and this happens to tourists all over the world. Any taxi driver in any city in the world knows a foreign accent when he hears one and the trip from the airport to town gets longer and longer with every mispronounced word that is uttered.

Lex and Ethan may have asked the truck driver what the going rate for a goat was, but had they been really clever, they would have asked him do the bargaining. He would have gotten them a far better price, including his cut. But, then again, it wouldn't have been as much fun.

The price they settled on, all too readily, 1600 shillings, was about half what they should have gotten. And the transaction was a little too slick. I would wager that the guy who bought the goats was the same guy who sold them to MB a few days before. He is probably the second cousin, once removed, of the two Morani, Charles and Isaac, who delivered them to JP. He, the cousin, had been tipped off earlier in the week that some rich guy down in Shaba was shopping for goats. He undoubtedly charged twice what the goats were worth, then raced back to Wamba to be ready to buy them back again for half of the going rate. Having bought them back from Lex and Ethan, he then sauntered over to the butchery and sold them, the goats, for twice what he just paid. He made a killing, no pun intended. Charles and Isaac probably got their cut of the action and I'll bet that a few shillings went to the men planted in the crowd at Wamba instructed to start the bidding low.

Upon hearing the first price offered, Lex and Ethan should have all but burst out laughing. Keeping the atmosphere light is important. Bargaining is entertainment in places like Wamba and it is meant to be fun. Haggling over a few shillings can go on for days and everyone joins in.

1600 shillings? Ha! "Hapana, bwana. Iko pesa kidogo." ( Oh no, bwana. That is little money.) If they had dragged out the kidogo, pronouncing it kidoooooooogo, they would have gotten a huge laugh and they would have been well on their way to a better deal. Ha ha ha. "Mbuzi hapa mzuri sana. Kubwa sana... na nguvu." (This goat here is very good. He is very big and strong.) Hand gestures, especially ones that referred to the size of the goat, or any of the goats parts, would have been a big crowd pleaser. Price goes up again. Then they should have shaken their heads, smiled in a condescendingly bewildered way and started to walk away. That always works.

I am not saying I could do this, I am a terrible bargainer, but I have watched others do it and the really successful ones exude this air of total confidence and nonchalance. They are not in a hurry to part with whatever it is they have and they are always willing to walk away.

Ofcourse it can be argued - what's a few bucks to Ethan and Lex? Especially since they didn't pay for the goats to start with. And we could take this argument further to add that those folks up in Wamba need that money far more than Lex and Ethan, hopefully, ever will. Certainly more than Mark Burnett does! But, on the other hand, "when in Rome..." and no one wants to be taken for a sucker.

But they settled for 1600 shillings, which Lex calculated to be 25 dollars. He must have had some reason to give the shilling that value ( I would have said it was lower) and so I will go along with that. The value of the shilling against the dollar changes so often, usually falling, and it doesn't really matter.

Then on to their lunch of a very expensive plate of greasy fries, called "chips" in Kenya. 1000 shillings? According to that same calculation, that would be about 15 dollars. How much can a few chopped up potatoes, fried up in a vat of days old grease, run you? $1.50? And that nice big White Cap beer should have cost all of about 60 cents. (Tusker is a better beer, but White Cap is cheaper and comes in a bigger bottle. It rarely has a label on it as the bottles are endlessly recycled and the labels rarely make it all the way to the dinner table, but the size of the bottle was a give away. ) 15 dollars? That's a weeks salary for someone up there. Oh well. (We can atleast feel better knowing than Domingo got a few bob for the service he rendered the restaurant owner when directing our two lads to his establishment.)

Passing up the chance to try chapatis and meat was a wise move. I think it would probably have been goat meat, not their goat, but someone's goat, rather then cat, but a dicey proposition either way. Then they sat down to have their meal, Ethan actually only rented his, and to be stared at by an ever growing number of onlookers.

Being stared at in Kenya takes getting used to. It never stops and there is almost nothing you can do about it. Ofcourse the further away from the large cities you venture and the more of a spectacle you present, the more intense it gets. These two (and camera crew) were quite a sight. Just imagine if little, blonde haired Kelly had been there!

Lunch was followed very quickly by Ethan's hasty retreat to that public "choo'" (rhymes with know.) He obviously found what he was looking for without too much trouble, but "Iko wapi choo?" (" Where is the toilet?") is the first Swahili phrase anyone should learn. Well, actually "Lette pombe ingine, baradi sana, tafadalhi" (Please bring me another very cold beer) is the first phrase to learn, but directions to the choo are also handy.

Then onto their shopping opportunity, where they did quite well. The beads that are used to make those ubiquitous bracelets that everyone in Kenya, no matter what race, creed, age or sexual orientation wears are fairly pricey. And it takes alot of time to string them onto bracelets. A dollar and some old T shirts was a decent trade. (Ofcourse that Reebok T shirt sells for about 30 dollars in the health clubs of NYC, but for Ethan it was cheap.) I personally would have taken that rungu, the beaded night stick Domingo had in his hand. Those are harder to find, require far more work, and will last longer on your shelf back home than the beaded bracelet that will draw a lot of unwanted attention from your non bracelet-wearing male friends. But never mind, they were happy with their purchases and had a box of cookies to take back to the kids in camp.

And then the game of hacky sack. For children who grow up never owning a toy other then things that can be made out of available scrap materials, as those children have, it was a lovely treat. I am sure Ethan's leaving that little toy behind made them nearly ecstatic. I don't know how long that hacky sack will last with twenty children kicking it around from dusk 'til dawn, but it was a nice gesture. And far wiser than giving them the usual tourist mistake of candy.

Waving good bye and saying kwa heri, (Lex knew that one) our two intrepid travelers got back in the truck. (With their camera crew in tow.) It was late, the shadows were already long, and they were still in for another three and a half hours of bone crunching drive back to Shaba. But it had been a great day.

And they are not the only ones who had had a good time. I am sure that day is still being talked about up there in Wamba.

" Remember the time those two wazungus came in that big lorry? The one with all the maridadi (decorations)? And the goats? And their askaris? (The camera men probably looked like body guards.) "Remember that game they played with the totos (children)?"

"Indio, mzee, mimi na kukumbuka. (Yes, old man, I remember.) I still have the T-shirt."

"Indio. It was a great day."

"But did we ever say asante (thank you) to the cousin of Charles and Isaac for that great goat scam?"

"Sijui." (I don't know.)

"Well, we must do that."