Living in a Sauna

My pores must be open just about as wide as they can manage. I am dripping all over the place, on the keyboard, on my lap. I have resorted to using a proper mouse instead of the touchpad, because it doesn't work when it's wet!

But I am losing weight, as I always do here. If I lose much more around the middle, I will have to buy new trousers, or a smaller belt.

I popped into the village proper at about midday (what do they say about mad dogs and Englishmen? Oh yes) on a motorbike taxi, a good way to stay cool.

As we went down the main street, a lot of people called out, "Jambo, Mr David!"

I didn't know that I had made such an impression on the only previous occasion I had been here.

Business done, I wandered up the street and was accosted by someone who knew my name and looked vaguely familiar. Oh yes, he was the owner of the Curio Shop. I had wanted to look at his goods and now was a good time.

In fact, he owns three shops, a sandal makers, a carvers and paintings (oil on canvas))

Now I have had this idea for a while, to export crafts from Kenya to Europe and the USA. I even have a website set up for Kisii soapstone, but wanted something else.

This man has it. And he is willing to open up his market to the wide world, or morespecifially, the World Wide Web. So, after a tour, we agreed that I should return with my camera and do my thing.

Mind you, he isn't cheap, by Kenyan curio standards, but his stuff is first-class, and of course, if he gets bulk orders he will offer wholesale prices.

Business done, I wandered back towards the house, passing the supermarket where I popped in to get provisions. I am well-known here and people are very friendly and helpful.

Next door is a little coffee shop, so I thought I would treat myself to a Latté. These are to dream about, creamy with loads of froth, chocolate on top, accommpanied by a little chocolate bar and a glass of water.

As I reached the road again, I expected the usual flotilla of motorbike taxis and tuk-tuks - nothing!

I was just about resigned to start walking when a lone motorbike came into view. Now, I don't know how to tell the difference between a motorbike taxi and a private vehicle, so I nodded towards him and he slammed on the brakes. It wa a motorbike taxi.

50/- got me home. That's the cheapest I have been charged yet.

But, by the time I got to the house, I was dripping wet, my hat, an old felt wide-brimmed affair, was sodden and I needed a drink.

Luckily, I had made up a glass of orange squash and put it in the freezer, and forgot it. It just slipped down my throat like a Tusker lager - beautiful.

So, I have had my daily quota of sun. I am determined to go back a lot darker than when I came, but without peeling, blistering, burning or fainting!

Update - just a little note, when approached by a plethora of taxi drivers, tuk-tuks and the like, all wanting to take me wherever I want to go, but I rathe walk, I now use the line, "My feet is my only carriage ..."

To a man, they ask, "You like Bob Marley?"

Respect, Man. Respect.

When it Rains, it Pours ...

As an Englishman, living in Britain, I am used to rain ... and more rain.

In the UK, when it rains, we just get on with life regardless. When I lived in Paris, it was the same story. We just wore appropriate clothing, or used an umbrella, or both.

And I would have thought that this would be true of anyone living in an area where rain was common.

But in Kisii, SW Kenya, where there is not wet or dry season, (it can rain at any time) life stops when it rains. Mind you, when it rains in Kisii, it does so with vengeance! The roads flood (Kisii is a mountain town where all roads go up or down, never horizontal) forming rivers in a matter of minutes. Everyone dives for shelter in the malls or under canopies in front of shops. Except me.

I don't know about midday sun, but this mad dog did go out in the rain, without a waterproof or umbrella, just my broad-brimmed hat as protection. The rain is warm. It is pleasant - OK, the heaviest rain stings a bit, but I loved it. I wasn't exactly doing a Gene Kelly in the rain. I didn't sing and dance. But I didn't let it stop me from going about my business.

And that enhanced my reputation in this town where a mzungu is an oddity. The local people considered that I was mad, totally bonkers. They are probably right. But I was surprised to see people who are obviously used to heavy downpours let it interfere with their day.

In Nairobi, it was the same. People ducking for cover. Except a few who were armed with umbrellas. But their progrgess was impeded by the throngs gathered under the shelter of shop fronts, blocking the pavements. And this is when Nairobi takes on a London-esque appearance. The people with umbrellas barging and forcing their way through those less fortunate, or with less foresight. It is the only time I have seen Kenyans actually getting annoyed with each other.

I have yet to experience rain at my third "base" in Kenya, Malindi. The last time I was there, it was just before the rains, and it was insufferably hot with not the slightest breath of air. No soothing breeze off the Indian Ocean, just heat. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't work on my computer as the sweat poured off me onto the keyboard - dangerous, not for me, but for the laptop.

But, sitting here, where the temperature has struggled up to 4°C, with the threat of rain sleet and snow within the next 24 hours, I long for Kenya, heat, rain and anything else it can throw at me.