[lavidanor]

It is a long story, I'll give an outline:

My first time at the airport in Nairobi. Checked in and crossed into the lounge thinking that I would come back to bid by to those who escorted me to the airport. Sorry, no reverse!

In the plane, we were served fish and some greens. The problem, the greens looked like leaves and they were raw. I had to check aside to see that people were eating them. The fish also looked raw.

At one time, we were in a lift at the students’ hostels with a fellow Kenyan (a lady). Two Norwegians--a man and a lady--started kissing--intimately. I thought these things were preserved for a bedroom or a strictly private environment somewhere! Embarrassed we tried behaving as if nothing had happened but it was not possible. The fact that I am a man of God and the lady was also saved made things even worse.

One morning I woke up and it was snowing. On a 8th floor, I couldn't see the ground at once. I wondered what manner of insects are these. They are flying everywhere. If one went out, one would inhale insects into the nose--it was scary.

The first slippery ground in winter: Was riding a bicycle to the university--about 5km away. I never knew that the ground could be so slippery. I came to a sharp bend. I tried to mix four things that are sworn enemies--they don't go together whatsoever: 1. high speed, 2. icy (slippery) ground, 3. applying breaks, and 4. a bend. When I tried to apply the breaks to get good grip on the ground in order to take the bend, I fell so fast and hard that I never knew what had happened.

I never ate meat for a year. Reason: I never knew the true value of Norwegian Krones until I translated it into Kshs. And when I did this, a Kilo of meat was costing an equivalent of 600 Kshs. That was ten times what meat cost in Kenya. This was damn expensive.

At one time, we went evangelising in the neighbourhood (In the Students hostels). We knocked at a door. A young man, a Norwegian, opened the door, with a knife in his hand. We thought he had been preparing food or cutting bread. He was reluctant to allow us in. After he found us naive foreigners and harmless, he confessed that he took the knife into his hand when he heard the knock. That he didn't have an appointment with anyone to visit him and he had to be prepared to ward off the intruder(s). In other words, the knife was meant for us--to fight us away.

About language, I was lucky to be guided around by a friend who told me how for him, when he was a new arrival he bought cat food, prepared it and was about to eat when incidentally someone came by and asked him what he was preparing. He didn't know what it was called a result of which he showed him the wrap. "But that is cat food!" the man said. Not knowing what things are called in Norwegian was always a challenge when buying especially foodstuffs.