We visited Kenya some years ago. We took a tour bus to the Masai Mara and stopped around the mountainside for a meal. It had a breathtaking view and was a stop point for tourists. Next to the restaurant was a shed with this boisterous man selling all kinds of ‘touristy’ stuff. He was trying to convince us to buy beads and carvings I had no use for. They were darn expensive, and considering the Shilling was double the Naira, I wasn’t convinced. Why would I wear a miniature horn necklace? I’m not quite sure I can be more African than I am. I told him we wanted to look around, so he went to attend to the more delighted oyibos who seemed fascinated by everything in the store and were clearly having an ‘African’ adventure.
Dear oyibo people, not all beads are ‘tribal works,’ some may have been put together by the dear seller standing next to you.
After some time, he strolled over and asked if we had seen anything we liked. “Umm… still looking.” “Oh, you must be Africans, where are you from?” “Ahhh, I love Nigerians. I watch your movies, very nice.” “See here,” he continued, “I also have money from Nigeria. I have money from all over the world,” he said, beaming. He brought a pile of notes and showed us the N100 note. He asked if we had any Nigerian money he could see. I put my hand in my handbag just as he said he “wanted more notes to add to his collection.” Who send me message now? My brown wallet was already out, so I handed him a N50 note. He asked what denomination was our highest. “N1,000.” “Yes, I would like that one, do you have it here?” He asked, smiling very broadly. “I do, that’s 500 Shillings,” I said, stretching my hand out for his money. His smile quickly disappeared. Ohhh, he wanted free N1,000 – just like that?! Ole!!! Like he can ask that oyibo woman standing there for $100. I was ready to leave. It was clear he was not getting my money – Naira or Shillings. My husband was in the ‘Kenyan spirit,’ so he bought this weird-looking giraffe which stayed on his desk at work until his last day on the job.
We arrived at our room at the Masai Mara, and it didn’t look remotely close to the exotic pictures the brochure advertised. One of the patrons said the pictures were from tourist sites owned by the company and not necessarily for that particular site. *hiss*
The next morning, I noticed the space above the door, and my mind began to wander. Could a snake slither through? Sure seemed wide enough to take five of them at the same time – cobra, black mamba, python, viper, rattlesnake. I was beginning to scare myself, so I told my husband we should go watch TV in the lounge.
We went to see the lions later – pretty cool seeing these carnivores up close. Being the true Nigerian that I am, I made sure to stay very close to the tour bus even when the tour guides said it was safe to walk around and take pictures. A bus came around, and the people said there were lions some two minutes away. They didn’t seem bothered. These oyibo no dey fear sha. That was all I needed to hear – I stayed inside the bus till it was time to leave.
When we got back to Nairobi the next day, the concierge at the hotel said the Elephant Sanctuary was a nice place to spend the day, so off we went. At the Sanctuary, the attendant’s eyes lit up when we flashed our passports as ID. Tourists. He pointed to a board, and I saw tourists were to pay double the price of an adult Kenyan. “It is the rule,” he said. I was miffed. These elephants better be prepared to do some backflips. After we paid, he said we were lucky to have come at the time the elephants were about to be fed, as that was the only time in the day people were allowed to watch. See this guy o. So, he would have collected our money then told us we came too late? He would have seen ‘Nigerian wonder.’
We watched as the elephants played in the mud, and the attendants fed the baby elephants with massive feeding bottles of milk. They were magnificent creatures, but I became bored quickly. No acrobats nor backflips, no circus-like displays, no biting of the attendants. It was very hot, and the elephants’ play was raising a lot of dust, so we took a walk around the Sanctuary.
“Would you like to adopt an elephant today?” I turned around to see a man standing behind me. “Huh?!” He asked again and pointed to the flyer I had picked up a minute ago. I was utterly confused. “We encourage our guests and visitors to adopt an elephant, or two.” A hundred questions and scenarios began playing in my head. Do I take the elephant back to Nigeria? On the plane? In a crate? Is that allowed? Landlord would not be very pleased.
He explained I could symbolically adopt an elephant. The animal would remain in Kenya, and I would send money for its upkeep. I would be given progress reports and pictures so I could see how my ‘baby’ was growing.
This man thinks I am oyibo o. I am merely fair-skinned, 100% Naija.
I asked him if Kenyans adopted elephants or if it was just a tourist thing. I saw that look of ‘this woman na just bad market’ and a forced smile on his face. Poor guy. I guess he was expected to be courteous to all guests. When we circled back, I saw an elderly oyibo couple signing adoption papers. Oh, good for them!
There were things about our Kenyan trip that still make us laugh. I didn’t adopt an elephant that day, but I bought these three very heavy carved elephants, which became hazards when my toddler started to crawl.
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