5.0 Pils

What do you do in a country, where almost every supermarket offers a choice of at least 30 beer brands?

Exactly – you change your marketing strategy.

Pils

When I came across these crates of “5.0 Original Pils” beer on Sato afternoon, I first thought these guys are kidding me. A whole crate of 5.0 Pils (@ 0.5l each) costs EUR 5.99! Now that’s cheap!

In a country where the average beer consumption is ~117,5 ltr per person/year, buying beer quickly becomes a matter of the pocket.
There’s one popular brewery in Germany with about 20 different beers on the market. It’s popular because it’s the cheapest brand out there, and they are cheap because the brewery directly sells to consumers & thereby avoiding resellers.

Obviously, the competitors are envious of the success this cheaper brand has, and, more importantly: convincing customers on quality requires special approaches. Hence this new marketing strategy that lacks any further advertisment campaigns. Customers are approached where they actually purchase their beer. Smart.

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The sticker reads: “it’s just a simple label! no expensive golden label! a simple crown cap! no expensive tv advertisment! and everything in a used crate! we’re forwarding these savings to you! we’ve saved on almost everything! except for the quality of this beer!” etc….

So I bought one bottle, opened it, tasted it and smiled. Good choice! :-)

Nindagucookeria ngaatho…

A good way to finish a hectic day is to enjoy a few drinks with one of your colleagues who tells you about the old times – especially if that jamaa has been working all over Kenya during the last 25 years, and has lots of stories to tell.

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And then you head home, meeting this one guy who sells cooked boiled eggs for 10 bob – an artistically peeled fresh egg, served in a small plastic bag with kachumbari and salt. I always wanted to taste those ones, and now I just did. Delicious.
Next time I am waiting for my matatu in Nbo, I’ll opt for a quick snack and buy one those delicacies.

It has been a hectic day, because the Embu town council decided to extend the main road. In the process of cutting all the trees by the roadside, one of the trees feel on the street, so traffic was diverted to go along in front of our office – with the result that a passing lorry cut the telephone wires and we were left without telephone, fax and internet for the rest of the day.
How are you supposed to dial “997” to report a faulty line if your line is faulty?

So I went online via SafCom GPRS and traced the numbers of their Embu office. Upon calling them (twice!), these TerrorkomKirimus told our secretary something like “tomorrow…..maybe”.

And there you go, wondering why so many ppl in Kenya have a mobile phone.

Customer Service? Hmm. Our boss had problems keeping me from fixing the lines myself. And I already had this *ggrrrrrrrr* attitude. TerrorkomKenya – you just suck! Period.

Soooo…any lasting impressions from Kenya that I will take abroad? Many. Too many actually.
But one thing remains, and that’s the diversification of business. Small deals here and there that shall secure my future. I mean, I actually did my apprenticeship and learned how to be a business man, but then: I do too many jobs and small things free of charge. Atereere…..now where’s the Kikuyu influence? There should be a reason why I am called Kikuyumoja, but until now, I just can’t see this mbeca influence.

Anyways. When I grow up Once I have enough money, I’ll return and buy a plot with good soil somewhere upcountry. And I would like to become a chicken farmer. Chicken farming is just great! Harry of AEM recently showed me his small 1-day old chicks that he plans to rear into broilers. You know, you buy them at 30 bob and sell them after 7-8 weeks for 250 bob. Minus the food and other costs, there’s still enough money to be made. Also, this is something that can work without much attendance. Great!

“He just wouldn’t understand it..”, my colleague Francis told me this evening, “this guy had been an Administrative Policeman up there in Moyale where I was working in 1985/86 and just pocketed a small salary of Ksh 4000/=. He was my escort.”

“One day, he just asked to be taken home and then I realized he could be a millionaire! He had 2000 or 3000 goats, 150 milk cows and some other lifestock. All he wanted is to show his neighbours his big herd, but didn’t want to manage it wisely. He could have sold some of the goats – now that would have made about 5M – and also some cows for about 1M, get a nice plot in town, build some houses there, rent them out, and just live on that. But he just wouldn’t understand how to invest and extend his business. All he wanted was to show off his herd…”.

Different places, different people.

But that diversification thing still remains. I’ll need to invest into different smaller things in future, and be more serious about it. Free of charge working (“pls help me with this and that computer problem”) is nice, but it doesn’t secure anything. Damn altruism. Kenya has taught me a few lessons on how to think more about income generating projects and opportunities, and that it actually is a lot of fun and pleasure to think in agricultural and livestock terms. At least, working with my hands has always been more satisfying for me than pure mental work – and as far as I can date back my family, no one ever worked in the field or did chicken, cow, etc. rearing. Time to make a difference? We’ll see…

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Snapshot of the week! SUPERMATCH! :-)

(yes, Steve, I tried to take some pics of Embu, but you know it’s hard to take pics of the town if you’re constantly surrounded by folks – so I chose to use my mobile phone’s cam instead….will upload some of them on Flickr soon!)

Kapuscinski

Now what’s this? My dad isn’t even buried yet, and another man I really valued died earlier this week: polish author Ryszard Kapuscinski, famous for his travel stories from the 1960s Africa among many other interesting books. He was one of those authors where you just wish the book never ends. My most favourite book is his “The Shadow of the Sun“, which I usually recommend to most of my Mal d’Afrique-infected friends.
Also, he is one of those interesting personalities out there that show how much Poland is part of Europe, and has always been.

Rest in peace, Ryszard, and thanks for all the good stories.

Embu nightlife

Last night my Safaricom air time finished and I still needed to do some things online. So I went over to the bar / night club next door here at Mugo Shopping Complex and….had the laugh of my life:

Grown up men, all drunken beyond this particular state when you would want them to meet their wife’s rolling pin (think of WM’s Thatcher character & u get the picture) were dancing to obscene Mughithi songs and the whole scenery looked so funny. Just like we know these dudes with their big Dorry Parrtonn hats and the pick-up parked outside.
Upon seeing me, one of the men pulled out his mobile phone and begged for a beer. “Look my mfriend”, he said while smelling like he had taken a longer bath in Changaa, “I mhave mtwo mshistassh in USA and Gaamany”. “Oh?”, I replied, “…alafu?”. He then showed me their telephone numbers and tried to impress me with that. “Yes my ffrrrriend, schoo juu mmbuyy mrree a mbiiiaaar?”.

Kirimu gitindagia andu njira – the fool makes other people stop on the road.

After telling him this (my favourite :-) proverb, he quickly disappeared.

And then I spotted this jamaa from Ujerumani sitting in front of his Tusker and grinning like Jack Nicholson in “the shining”. Now that’s another extreme: he arrived in Nairobi three weeks ago, took a Matatu upcountry and ended up in Embu. His plans actually included going to Mombasa, but then….he just stayed here. He told me about his job in Germany – a lorry driver who once studied political sciences but then skipped that university life for the real world out there. He isn’t rich and saved his last mbeca just to enjoy a few weeks of Tusker, Nyama Choma and hanging in boring places. Alone. Just one of those easy-going guys you can unload at any bar in the world – all he needs are a few beers, a packet of Sportsman cigarettes and someone to talk to. Nice.

You are standing there, looking at all these strange characters and thinking to yourself: Kenya believe it? Just like in a movie…

I am going to miss this place. *sigh*

pick one

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“The most beautiful women on earth, the beauty that no amount of money can buy, the most powerful hair in Africa, the most wanted hair styles now in Africa, our business is to make ladies look beautiful. If you want to look beautiful, come to us now. The magic in weaving styles for beautiful women.”

I just had to buy this poster on River Road today. That is, where else do you get African beauty for 60 bob? :-)

the message

“If blogging is your strength, then do that”, sista Kui told me some minutes ago. I told her about a message I had received this morning at 6 am which really disturbed me, and also relieved me to some extend. And that I would want to blog on it no matter what.

It’s about my father. My mum informed me this morning that my father had peacefully stopped breathing at about 3 am after a long illness we call Alzheimer’s disease.

“How are you feeling?”, people started asking me. Well, how am I supposed to feel? I don’t know. I know there is something inside that wants to break free and cry, and I feel this urge inside to put these emotions into words because that’s my way of expressing my feelings. It feels like there are a thousand words that describe the situation, and at the same time there is nothing left to say.

But I didn’t come here to tell you about my grief. I came here to tell you about a wonderful and positive experience I had this evening.

Right now I am staying at a friend’s place who’s running a children orphanage. Since everyone was kinda busy tonight, I was asked to take care of a little boy for a few hours. His 16year old mother had tried to abort him 2,5 years ago, and together with her mother and grandmother, they tried to get rid of him in a pit latrine after he had refused to die right after the abortion.

This very same boy is now very healthy and very smart. His joyful smile and vital way of learning new things showed me once again what life is all about. And it helped me a lot to let go and welcome new life. For me, meeting this young man showed me that I am the adult now, the 31year old dude who needs to get his own family and keep that life thing going. And I liked it. I am ready for it.

These days when life does strange things with you while you’re busy making other plans, it is good to close each day with a smile on your face and accept those things you can not change with some easiness that is driven by content from within.

Also, the older I become, I realize how much I resemble my father: his passion for arts, music, literature, antiques and other things. Heck, some of his older friends even tell me how much I look like him!
You see, he was about my age when he took up his first assignment in India in the mid 1960s as a German language teacher. Moving from Germany down to a chaotic New Delhi meant a lot during those days, but he somehow managed it, and it also shaped him in many ways. Some of his students are still keeping contact with us after all these years!

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my father somewhere in India, 1966

And just like him, I decided to give up all these securities in Germany and move to Kenya with an uncertain future, taking into account that my father might die when I am abroad. It is this place here at this distance which allowed me to eventually think about a lot of things that happened in the past, how we used to take care of him and how he loved me and my sister, and especially my mum.

It is the distance between him and us due to this shitty Alzheimer’s disease that taught us a lot of things about family, love and being there for each other.

How am I supposed to feel grief inside if I keep on being remembered of the good things that came along with all this? Instead, it is this happiness inside that gives me the strength to keep on doing my thing in a way which somehow resembles his.

Talking about death, there’s one more thing I would like to mention: I told you about this funeral I’d been attending late last year somewhere in Mwingi district. During those 3 hours of a funeral service in a language I didn’t understand, where me and my colleagues where the guests of honour, I eventually realized the role death plays and how a funeral is regarded to be part of the culture here. At times when lots of people are dying before their age due to AIDS and other diseases, people have started to accept it being a part of their life. Contrary to a funeral in Germany, where everyone is dressed in dark clothes and just silent, this funeral in Mwingi included a choir singing warm songs and thus giving me, the outsider, an understanding of what this is all about. It made me realize that I am very much ready to accept these things and that I may just trust in my faith.

When I am going back to Germany now to attend his funeral and eventually finish my studies soon, I will try to export some of these spirits and remember how I was welcomed to this place I always considered my second home.

And to be honest, I have no idea when I will able to return and what this new year which has just started will have to offer. But at least I am not afraid anymore, and that’s a damn good feeling.

Sunday workers

The real reason why fundis are working on Sunday afternoons is because most customers have worn out cars that require lots of tender/loving/care (TLC) on weekends. :-)

Like mine. Well, “ours”. Ok, Mbuzimoja’s. But I got it for the weekend and took the chance to apply some magic hands on its sexy curves. The car, that is.

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The passenger seat had a problem and needed some welding. Since the last repair in October, the interior of this Suzuki Samurai SJ413 has become very familiar, so removing the chair took about 5 minutes. We ended up fixing some other small things as well which required some attention – all these small things you realize once you need them (like the windscreen washer system when it is raining buckets).

Being able to get your car repaired on a Sunday afternoon is just very very convenient, and if you know what you want and need, this is a fast job. Also, it’s just a nice way of getting around and seeing some things that don’t meet the eyes of those who never pay attention to the small things in life.

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Pls note those Renaults being serviced. These KXGs & Co (~1986) are now used as Taxis as they are quite durable and still cheap. I saw about six Renault 4 today.

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Old but good. Check the gear changer stick going from the middle of the dashboard to the very front of the motor. French cars!

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Anyone needs some Kerosene? Get it directly pumped to your plastic bag from the petrol pump INSIDE the buildng!

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And this is my favourite. Here in Gachie, there is something like “Pop-In 2.0″. Get your round of Football, GrandPrix, Ninja, Rally, Soldier, GrandTheftAuto, etc. games for Ksh. 10 – 20/= on either on the Playstation or on an XBOX. That map on the wall left to the TV sets actually is from GrandTheftAuto San Andreas. Yeah!

And how did you spend your sunday afternoon?

Embu’s little pleasures…

Ok so I started the morning by sorting some TOP 1:50.000 maps of Kenya which had been published in the 1970s. Due to the chronic lacking of a decent storage concept, these maps had been exposed to direct sunshine, rain (~ the obligatory leaky roof) and lots of dust during the last 30 years. They had been torn apart, written on and stuffed into some overcrowded drawers somewhere in the office.

The other day we had a delegation from the World Bank coming over from Nbo for a meeting and my colleague frantically searched for a specific map and – of course – couldn’t find it at all. Quite embarassing.

Upon arrrival in Embu, I suggested that we install something called “the data office”: a room where we’d keep maps and other data. After all, these guys here are “supposed to” have their own Graphical Information System (GIS) runing within the next two years – and right now we don’t even have a decent map with all boreholes within our catchment area, nor do we have any further data.

So I was fed up with the situation and started by pulling out some older drawers which I prepared to store these maps. My colleague, the guy who is supposed to be in charge of all data, did like the idea, but prefered to enjoy his morning in a rather Nyayo-style: reading the Daily Nation and sipping on his 10 a.m. tea. I asked him to join me on this job, but he kept on having this “Ati?, me I am not even getting paid to do this manual work….”-look on his face.

We see 5 p.m. approaching and a friend of mine awaits me with a towel outside the offices. Off we are to enjoy some rounds in the pool @ Izaak Walton Inn!

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Swiming is Ksh. 200 /= for non-residents, the pool opens from 8am-6.30pm.

I shall return more often (ati, Mugo Holdings Ltd. – is there any discount for tenants?) and enjoy this little oasis of pleasure. Especially after such days when you’re just 2inches away from adopting the sometimes Nyayoesque lethargy of your colleagues…