Now I know for sure that I am back in Kenya. In the past 72 hours I have breathed in heavy smoke during my runs, used the horn several times while driving, and had a close call with Immigration and Customs. I am glad that I have been re-baptized into the culture again.
I forgot how many small cooking and trash piles burn around here. It makes running a bit more challenging, but it does have somewhat of a soothing quality as it reminds me where I am at.
I mentioned in a post right after our return that I missed honking the horn. Well, not exactly. When I am honking the horn it means that some idiot just came within inches of running into my car. It means that someone is not paying attention. It means that a pedistrian is crossing the road dangerously. Or it means that someone in the oncoming lane is swerving into my lane to avoid a pothole. I miss NOT having to honk my horn.
Customs and Immigration. As our flight was delayed in Chicago to London, our baggage arrived in Kenya over three days. The first two visits I cleared the bags just fine. On day number 3 my luck ran out. Apparently toy guns are not appreciated here. One of the bags scanned in Kenya showed Sam's cap gun. This caused Customs to confiscate the bag. When I arrived they had me go through the bag and pull out the wooden and plastic "weapon." They had three police officers inspect the gun who all agreed it was a toy (whew!) Unfortunately they would not release it until I went downtown to the Central Bureau for Firearms and get a PERMIT for the toy gun. I AM NOT KIDDING!!! If I do this, then Sam can have his cap gun.
To add insult to injury, they noticed other toys in the bag and decided to levy duty on them. So...I was assessed duty on these toys. After going through all the paperwork and standing at three different counters, I collected my other 9 bags. I decided that I did not want to pay duty on these as well. So I looked for a Customs agent who hadn't seen me yet. I moved into that line, but unfortunately the lady who saw me originally came over to "help." When she saw my other bags she got annoyed and called over her supervisor who said "go through the bags and see what you can charge." This did not sound good.
So...while she helped the lady in front of me, I spied another agent I hadn't seen and quickly jumped over to his line with all my bags (no easy task). He asked me what I was doing and I told him with a sad face that I was collecting my lost bags from the other night. He asked where I worked and I told him then he just waived me through the door. I nearly ran out the door with my bags; I strongly exhorted the sky-caps to move along quickly before the other Customs agent figured out what was amiss.
So...I am definitely back in Kenya. Inconsistency is the norm. I have learned to go with it. And maybe that will be the secret of success this time around. Who knows....
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