Aliyetota, hajui kutota.

 » I was chat­ting with a street kid in the East­lands area of Nai­ro­bi when he asked me for money. He had asked me the day befo­re, and I had bought him lunch. But on this day, I told him that I had no money. He took away the bot­t­le of glue he was hol­ding in his mouth and loo­ked at me for a moment. Then he gave me 40 shil­lings, shou­t­ed “Jah Rasta­fa­ri,” and wal­ked off. «
Natio­nal Geo­gra­phic’s aut­hor Bin­ya­van­ga Wai­nai­na on his best Nai­ro­bi expe­ri­ence.

And he con­ti­nues: » In order to nego­tia­te our com­plex lives, Nai­ro­bi peop­le have lear­ned to have dual per­so­na­li­ties. We move from one lan­guage to ano­t­her, from one iden­ti­ty to ano­t­her, navi­ga­ting dif­fe­rent worlds, some of which never meet. « Ich fin­de die­ser Satz hat etwas.

Now, whe­re’s tearoom? :-)

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