Shots vs Totes

Remind me to never order a shot at the bar! NEVER EVER AGAIN!

So last night, while having a few drinks with my new friends from Bor, Sudan, they explained to me why it was important that I request a “tote” of liquor at the bar, as opposed to a “shot”.

As I’ve already said, there are a lot of Ugandans and Kenyans in south Sudan. Most of them came about two years ago when the region began rebuilding and there was a great deal of business opportunities. You can come across Kenyans or Ugandans working in restaurants that mainly cater to foreigners. They are mechanics, drivers, hair dressers, selling produce in the markets. You name it, they’re there.
Unfortunately, many Kenyan and Ugandan women have also taken on some of the “older professions” in our society. Prostitution here is as common as anywhere and apparently in order to be more “tactful” or less forthright about their “services” some women would approach men or vice versa and ask if they’d like a “short time” or how much it would cost for a “short time”. As with most slang terms, “short time” was soon shortened to “short” for short.

So when I approached the bar and asked for a “shot”, I was a bit confused when the bartender looked at me questioningly and proposed 35 Sudanese Pounds (SDP)- roughly $18. Things around here are quite expensive, but $18 for a shot is just ridiculous! So I asked him again, pointing at my rum of choice. (I had bought a liter of mango juice for breakfast it and it was delish and would pair perfectly with a shot of rum as a night cap.) Though a bit confused at my gesture, he repeated 35 SDP again and opened his hands as if to say he didn’t have anymore than that.

At this point, I was becoming slightly annoyed because I refused to believe it cost that much. So I asked him if “Grande” was the only type of rum he had and if there were any that were any cheaper. At that question he said, “Ohhhh, the rum? A tote of that is 7SDP (roughly $4).” And then hurriedly gave me my order.

It wasn’t until later in the night that I found out that the whole time, the bartender thought I was a Kenyan prostitute! I’m glad that we cleared that up before I retreated back to my room, however, I’m still a bit offended that he only offered me 35 SDP…surely I’m worth more than that!

Bor is not so "Bor"-ing

I am in Bor now and I like it a lot better than I did Juba! It really proves how important it is to keep cities clean! Bor may have a few less concrete buildings, turn abouts, and no paved roads, but it’s clean! Dust and all!

The other thing I have thoroughly enjoyed about Bor is the overwhelming hospitality that I’ve experienced. I am sure that the town doesn’t get too many out of town visitors, but they sure do know how to treat them when they come. Due to a bit of “miscommunication”, we had no where to stay once we arrived, but a new friend at the World Food Program pulled some strings and got my colleague and I nice rooms at the Freedom Hotel. (As someone else pointed out, the Freedom Hotel and the Liberty Hotel are both clear odes to the impending referendum in Sudan).

The Freedom Hotel is a great hotel with wonderful staff. I also got my first fully authentic Sudanese meal and I loved every bit of it. I’m not sure what they called everything, but in a nutshell is was fufu and okra prepared differently. But it tasted almost as good as my mother’s and I was very happy and satisfied! Another night, I also had some beans that were absolutely delicious and didn’t enter into combat with my bowels.

My other new friend, the hotel manager, said that the next time I come he’d have pizza and ice cream and I begged him to reconsider… Hopefully he realizes that I’m very serious! Dinners here have been one of the highlights of my trip!

My Little Plastic Container

A lot of you have asked about my lodging in Sudan- with good reason!

Here are a few pics of my "little plastic container" in Juba. It actually reminds me more of a trailer.

Here are shots that I stole from their website.





And these I took of the inside myself.

Runny Eggs- YUCK!

It seems like every post is about food. Sorry, but it’s one of the main things that I look forward to when I travel. I love trying different foods and learning new ways of preparing things. I’ve realized that with many African, Caribbean, and Latin American cultures, we use all of the same ingredients, just prepared differently.

The place we’re staying at in Juba, tries it’s darndest to cater to the varied pallets of each of its guests. I haven’t really spoken to anyone else who is staying at my hotel, but I can tell that they’re from all over the world by their style of dress, language, and accents. Unfortunately, my hotel is trying a bit too hard and the food is disgusting. It’s as if the cook has tried to hard to learn how to cook an item from everywhere, that they haven’t mastered anything. Would you rather get straight Cs or two As and a bunch of Ds? I personally like As…

So despite their being curried chicken, goat stew, ugali and fresh vegetables, fried rice, and pastas with all types of sauce- it’s all gross.

This morning when I actually work up and got ready leaving enough time for breakfast, I was ecstatic to see that there was an omelet bar. It took me back to my college days. When I ordered my eggs, I specifically told the cook that I wanted them fried hard because that previous week, I had been given runny eggs in Nairobi and had to send them back when I realized that they were runny. But of course, despite my clear request, what I was I given, runny eggs! YUCK!

I gave them back to the chef and while he was refrying them, I asked him why he insisted on giving me runny eggs. (Some of you may know how inquisitive and slightly confrontational I can be). He proceeded to tell me that since most of their guests are White Europeans, they tend to runny eggs. Well, I’m clearly not White, so why give them to me even when I requested they be friend hard? And he said that that’s just how they’re trained to do it. Huh?!?!?

Long story, not so short, it seems as though in an effort to please everyone or assumably please everyone, tings are actually made worse… and taste as gross as runny eggs. Sorry if I offended any of you runny egg lovers.

I Was Raised AFRICAN

I think what many people fail to realize about me, is that I was raised African, Cameroonian to be exact. I grew up eating plantain and eggs for breakfast, jellof rice and roasted chicken for lunch, and fufu or gari with okra for dinner. I crave oko obong, eru, achu, ekwang, egussi pudding, koki corn, and nkwi. At 20+ years, I have no qualms about begging my mother to cook for me, because it tastes so much better when she prepares it. As a child, puff puff, chin chin, and coconut sweet were given to me as treats. As I child, I also hated the smell of miondo, but now I love it so much, that I buy bundles of it each time I go home, freeze it and devour it for months!
So when I tell you that I want African food and you tell me that I’ll get “enough of it later”, you are either punishing me or insulting a part of me. For the sake of peace, I’ll just ignore you while I go looking for roasted corn on the side of the road.

Is this really going to be the capital city?

Today, I flew to Juba, the capital of the southern part of Sudan. In a nutshell… this is not Nairobi… and sadly not even comparable with Bangui….
Some may think Im being a bit extreme based on the way I described Bangui, but after all is said and done, the government of the Central African Republic was very centralized, so Bangui was "La Coquette" in relation to the rest of the country. I am optimistically hoping that since southern Sudan operates under a federal system with distinct states, the conditions in Juba won’t be reflective of those throughout the south, but then again, it is supposed to be the capital of the south… I’m very concerned.

Expat Lifestyle Might Don’t Make It…

During the last few days in Nairobi it has become painfully clear to me that if I decide to live in any city for an extended period of time, I absolutely can not live the “expatriate lifestyle”. Almost every part of every day has felt manufactured and surreal. Hamburgers, hummus and pita bread, cinnamon rolls, and a whole bunch of other crap that was obviously imported and that I would almost never touch at home. So why am I eating it here?!?!? Why is it “so difficult” to find a restaurant that prepares Kenyan food??? Though I will admit that during Havanna night, I thoroughly enjoyed the prawns and tostones! =)

But it is extremely frustrating when the wait staff is a caught off guard when I request Kenya tea or coffee and insist that I do not want Lipton, Tetley, or an Americano. I pay $2 every morning for Mayorga coffee, which is in my opinion the absolute best Kenyan coffee in DC and it doesn’t hurt that their “African” blend is a mixture of beans from Kenya, Ethiopia, Cameroon, and Uganda. But since I’ve been in Kenya, it’s been almost impossible to get “local” coffee! This doesn’t make sense…

Oh, but it does. While on my way to Java House, a popular spot in expat central, I asked my driver to recommend a good Kenyan restaurant for my last night in town. He immediately told me that I wouldn’t like Kenyan food, if I didn’t like meat. Who told him that I didn’t like meat?!?!? In his defense, this is what he assumed. I’m sure he’s come across quite a few vegetarians from abroad.

I hope that I’ll get the chance to visit again soon because don’t feel like I’ve experienced Kenya at all. I haven’t seen anything that distinguishes it from any other city in the world. But then again, I am off to Juba shortly, so I may be in store for quite a treat... be it good or bad...

Majority/Minority… Huh?

I’m still a bit confused… Why do I, a black girl, feel like a minority in East Africa??? But on the other hand, I’ve been around so many Americans, that I kind of feel like Im in the majority, and haven’t even left DC.

The night at Havanna was fun, but as I said, made me feel like I never left home in so many ways. Oddly enough, the bathroom was one of the most alarming points. As I was waiting in line for the bathroom (because it makes sense to have only one ladies’ stall in a restaurant/bar with over 100 people drinking profusely), I couldn’t help but notice that everyone sounded just like me! My “American” accent didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. But what was most odd, was that no one was surprised that I was American. Usually when I travel, I’m used to people being taken aback once I start speaking because they assume that I am a local. Nope, not here.

Nairobi Nights

Apparently, in Nairobi’s expat community, the weekend starts on Thursday night. I could have sworn that I was telecast to Marshall Street or College Park or Adams Morgan (or any other college town for those of you who are unfamiliar with those locales). My colleague and I went to a Cuban restaurant for dinner and drinks for her friend. When we walked in, the scene was quite overwhelming. The bar was packed and people were literally hovering over each other talking, drinking, and having a good time. I was actually taken aback because I wasn’t expecting any of this- at all. I don’t know if it’s because it was only my second night in the cit or the clientele, which I wasn’t expecting, but it was all a lot to take in, especially at once. Luckily, we were able to retreat to the back of the restaurant and found a table in the corner, where the scene was a bit less “overwhelming”.

The food was DELICIOUS! It was Cuban and I had prawns with tostones (fried green plaintains). I thoroughly enjoyed my meal along with a bottle of wine and great conversation. I almost forgot where I was until it was time to leave our little nook in the corner of the restaurant.

Walking back out and through the bar centered party that had literally tripled in size was quite an experience. In addition to the young professional expats who were by this time fairly drunk, some Kenyan prostitutes joined the party. Under normal circumstances, I would have been a tad bit self-conscious that someone might mistaken me for a prostitute, but luckily I was fully dressed. Them, not so much… But they were having a great time, gyrating against smitten European men, while onlookers got sneak peaks of their “goodies”.

As I meandered through the crowd, one decided to greet me with a head butt to the forehead. For a split second I wondered if she thought I had encroached into her territory and was fighting me for her “track”, but then she profusely apologized and I acknowledged that she was drunk and in an effort to impress her potential john, she exaggerated her laugh, throwing her head back and right into my forehead. Great.
But I was able to escape and without any knots on my head in the morning.

Rediscovering My Youth- Africa’s Infatuation with 90s Music

I’ve noticed that many Africans (I hate to generalize the whole continent, but it’s true) have a deep appreciation of 90s RnB and Contemporary Pop music. And I love every minute of it!!! Today while doing work in a local coffee shop, my colleague and I were crooned to the sounds of Boyz to Men, Brandy’s entire Full Moon album, Aaliyah, and I almost jumped for joy when Shania Twain and Celine Dione came on. She thinks that I am completely cheesy for enjoying it so much, especially Celine Dione- my colleague is also Canadian, but I can’t help myself! There’s something about hearing “Water Runs Dry”, “Full Moon”, “At Your Best You Are Loved”, “From This Moment”, and “It’s All Coming Back to Me” consecutively that just soothes my soul!
Some of the best music was put out in the 90s and I wish there were public radio stations that were dedicated to it. It was probably the last period in music where I appreciated music from every genre. Aerosmith, Tanya Tucker, Alanis Morrisette, Nirvana, Greenday, Hanson, Total, LL Cool J, Jodeci, Wu Tang Clan, Brandy, Whitney Houston, and of course Mariah Carey- you name it, I liked it! And they play it allll here!