The Social Network

It's not a gripping box-office-busting movie about people using technology to waste time make innovative connections (much like blogging...).

It's a Mode of Survival. I can't believe I haven't mentioned it before now.

It is the second most important reason that you are always nice and smiley with your neighbors, colleagues, and acquaintances. (The first most important being that, despite being scattered literally from wherever you are to Timbuktu, the foreign service community is eensy weensy and it's just nicer if everyone is nice).

Here is an excerpt from the classified section of this week's school newsletter:

Anisa Flowers, under the green umbrella, (next to the clay pots and garden chimneys), on the side of the Limuru Road, between Redhill Rd and the Shell petrol station before Village Market, is one of the most reliable, and reasonable suppliers of excellent quality flowers in Kenya!

Yes, that is how you find a run-of the-mill business. Without The Social Network, how would you know the lady under the green umbrella is so much better than the guy with the wooden awning on the corner of Redhill and Thigiri at the sign for the turn to New Muthaiga? Just try looking it up on the yellow pages.

Yet another benefit of sending your kid to the missionary school: Missionaries actually spend time living here, and in addition to providing hilarious or horrifying tales of the crazy things they have endured because "the government" does not see to their comfort, the Missionary School Social Network has a memory that is easily 10 or even 20 years old.

From barber to ballet instructors, if you ask around you will find someone who knows someone who can give you a phone number, and soon enough you and your family are set. Just be prepared for the phone calls, because word gets around. Soon enough someone will give your number to someone else so they can find that ballet instructor too.

The "stay bag"

Everyone in Kenya is joyous this week because of the post-election peace. In the wee hours of Saturday morning, the final votes were tallied, revealing a Kenyatta victory by a margin of 0.07%.

A little later in the wee hours, we became aware that a victor had been declared.

Here's how we found out. Imagine it's 4AM, and our sleeping household is, well, sleeping.

Then, some kind of noise starts niggling on our subconscious. Now I have the mom-radar, so it doesn't take much for me to wake in the night, but the noise that resolved into masses of people yelling, shouting, singing, and honking in the street.... that even got Andrew's attention. Experience has taught me that when there are even a few people yelling passionately, it is not good, and if it's masses of people, it has potential to be Really Not Good. However, coming out of the grogginess, I realized that these voices sounded happy. Who is happy when they are awake at 4AM?

     Me (looking outside to make sure people aren't in our yard): They must've decided on a president.
     Andrew (face in pillow): Unh.
     Child (yelling much louder than necessary from her room across the hall): Mama! Can you close the window? I can't sleep with all that noise out there.

In the jittery pre-election period we were strongly advised to keep a "go bag". This would be the bag you can grab so that you can run out of the house in your curlers and robe and go catch a plane in the case of a Really Bad Event. It should contain travel essentials like passports and money, important documents, a change of clothes, and your great grandmother's lace tablecloth or whatever other small but vital items you would absolutely want. (Which is funny, because people in the foreign service don't keep anything...).

Since the weekend passed without a violent hitch, the only jitters really left this week are the early afternoon caffeine jitters. So I guess it's time to unpack the go bag (which we never finished packing in the first place).

However, now we actually have approved dates for departure from Kenya this summer. The go-bag still seems like a good spot to keep those important documents and great grandma's lace. So maybe we will just keep it there, under the chair. It can be the "stay bag".... or at least a "get ready" bag. A constant reminder that, while my kid is homesick but can't really tell me where she's homesick for, we are going to go on a really rockin' vacation soon.

Waiting

Two days ago, Kenyans exercised their right to vote in overwhelming numbers. Over 14 million voters (+70%) cast ballots in national and provincial elections on Monday. The patriotism involved in standing up in such masses is moving. With the violence of the last election fresh and traumatizing in everyone's minds, poll lines were quiet, and long. Our housekeeper waited in line 11 hours to vote and, like many others, arrived to queue hours before the sun even rose. Now... everyone is waiting.

Waiting to see what will happen with more than 300,000 "invalid" votes.
Waiting for the official result to be called.
Waiting to see if schools will reopen.
Waiting to go back to work, just in case.
Waiting for their neighbors, colleagues, and fellow citizens to nod acceptance.
Waiting in case the result can't be accepted.

Extra guards patrol the grounds of most places that can afford them. Extra soldiers patrol the streets. Public transportation moves quickly but infrequently through quiet streets. "How are things there?" people keep asking me over email and Facebook. They seem calm - for Nairobi - but I just can't tell.

The whole country is holding its breath.