Another Glimpse of Life in Kenya

A Hotel Attendant and a Cup of Coffee

On the same trip to the Coast, I got a room at the usual hotel I use; it’s operated by Muslims. As I entered the rather run-down building, I noticed a lethargic, young man sitting on a plastic chair. Inquiring from him if he had a room available, he unenthusiastically replied, “Yes, I have a room.” However, he did not move from his position. Instead, offering me a chair, he announced that I could wait while he finished his tea. I politely obliged him.

Eventually, I paid him for the room and he handed me the key. “I’ve given you a room on the second floor, because you’re old. You’re strong, but you’re old.”

I climbed the steps and entered my room. As per usual, there was no soap or tissue (toilet paper). Soon, I heard a knock at my door; I assumed it was the attendant with the necessary items.

Instead, I found him standing there empty-handed. “I forgot to tell you the rules,” he stated rather matter-of-factly.

Assuming he wanted to inform me of the check-out time, I told him I’d stayed there many times in the past. “But maybe you don’t know our rules. There’s no intercourse allowed.”

With a smile, I assured him that I wouldn’t be having intercourse. “It’s not bad if I tell you the rules, is it?”

I interjected that I needed soap and tissue. “You mean you don’t use water, like we do?

[Note: Readers, I’ll let you use your imagination on that comment. Surely... cultures all over the world are different!]

I walked around town for a while. As I normally do whenever I’m in Mombasa, I purchased half a kilo of dates from one of the many vendors on the street. I also bought some halwa (a sweet gelatin) for a friend in Nairobi.

I stepped into a tiny watch repair shop. The friendly gentleman that owns the place keeps a pot of Arabian coffee brewing throughout the day. He’s always glad to have anyone stop by for a free cup and some chitchat. While I sipped mine, he rattled off the same conversation he does every time I stop by.

“Some people say caffeine is bad for you. But my 75-year old papa drinks 35 cups every day!”

Suddenly, he said goodbye and closed up his shop. It was, after all, time for afternoon prayers at the mosque.

Later on, back at the New Daba City Hotel, I couldn’t get my door unlocked. Virtually all interior doors in Kenya use the old-fashioned skeleton keys. I had jiggled and jostled the key in the well-worn keyhole, but it was all to no avail. So, as much as I would have liked to avoid the young male attendant, I was forced to go ask for his assistance.

He deftly had it open in a matter of seconds. I know you couldn’t unlock it, because you’re old. How old are you? You’ve reached fifty, right?”

Ha! Just another day in Kenya!