72 Hours

It is Monday afternoon and I feel like I am finally recooperating from the last 4 days. This weekend was crazy!

Let’s start from the beginning, Fourth Of July. We started planning our Fourth of July party on Monday. The residents of the #7 (Sedona, Zach, & I) were all equally excited and equally nervous, as this was the first house party we had ever thrown. On Tuesday we sent out a few mass texts to all of our groups of friends inviting people over and reminding them to sport some red, white and blue for America. 

On Thursday afternoon we had a very American dinner downstairs with just the residents of the #5#7. It was very peaceful. We enjoyed some burgers, fries, and watermelon in an attempt at making our holiday as homey as possible. After dinner we came upstairs and people started arriving shortly after.

Our home went from empty to all seats full in about 20 minutes and people kept pouring in the doors. Nearly everyone was rockin’ some type of red or blue and all of our Kenyan friends had a ton of “Happy Independence Day” shout-outs.

After dark we rallied the group and headed outside for the main event of the night; fireworks in the football field behind our home. We were met by a handful of police to monitor the execution of the process and everyone was giddy with anticipation.  Many of our best friends had never seen fireworks before and when the first explosions lit of the sky the “ohhhs” and “awwws” were audible for miles. The whole process only lasted about four minutes and was unimpressive by American standards, however the thrill of sharing such an awesome experience made it so much more special. After things were done we re-grouped and watched and re-watched the event on several different cell phones. Everyone was so pumped up! 

In the aftermath of the fireworks display I got a phone call from the social worker at Faraja and he just said to me “Happy Fourth of July! At first we thought there were gunshots then I realized it was your Independence Day and rushed all the kids outside to watch!” I was so happy he was so intuitive and grateful my babies got to see such a magical thing.

We continued partying until about 3am when people started trickling out and we went to bed exhausted but happy with the turn out. When we woke up the next day and surveyed our home there was no doubts about it; Operation Kenyan Fourth of July had been a success.

The next day (Friday) brought about my first day of work at Reloaded. Reloaded is a place I have become very familiar with over the last seven months. It is so far from a place I would hang out at home, let alone work at, but it’s been my go-to spot on Saturday nights for a long time now. It is a bar/restaurant/night club combination. It has a few different areas for relaxing, eating, listening to a live band, or dancing while some of the hottest DJs in town lay down tracks. As I walked up the stairs I definitely thought to myself, “am I really working in a night club in Africa for $2 a night?” but it was too late to back out and as I met my boss she instructed me to start wiping down the tables for the night.

The first few hours consisted of wiping tables and stocking the bars for the evening. The staff and I walked around making ourselves look busy every time a manager came by. Since it was a Friday evening the beginning was so and I think I cornered all the tables in the main lounge about 20x each. It was about this point in the night that I realized some things are universal.  The service industry doesn’t change much even from 8000 miles away in a third world country. 

My first night was rough… the staff was not very welcoming. I was the new weird white girl who took up a 250 Ksh a night serving job and they could not figure me out. I had never worked overnight, and working off my hangover from Thursday’s event was still wearing me out. I was getting used to the prices of things and being as clutzy as I am was showing in all of my actions. I remember sitting at the well and thinking to myself, "I am completely weeded and there is no one who speaks enough English to bail me out right now." Come 2am (mid-rush) I was certain that I would not return the next day. However, as the night went on, and I’d had a Red Bull, the place slowly calmed down a bit and the staff saw that I had made it through my first shift, they started to warm up. One of the servers walked up to me and said, “that was your warm up, I hope you are ready for tomorrow night,” and before I could stop to think about it I told him “I’ll be here, I’m sure it can’t be harder than my job at home.” Several people around laughed out loud at the fact that an mzungu girl could possibly be a simple waitress in America and I knew then and there that Saturday night would be heaps better.

On Friday night I left the club at 4:30am and sat in my bed thinking “what the hell just happened?” I was absolutely beat I left a note for my roommates not to wake me up in the morning and passed out till 1pm the next day. When I finally got up I was so tired. I only had a few hours to sit and relax before it was time for Round 2.

On Saturday I showed up appropriately Kenyan Late. We started the shift out the same way, but people were much friendlier this time. At one point we were hanging out in the back of the bar and I got drug into a conversation talking trash about our boss. At that point I realized I was accepted in the group and I was so excited. Saturday’s shift went MUCH more smoothly, it was busier, I was more knowledgeable, and the staff was more helpful.  My friends came in and hung out for a while and I served up plenty of tequila shots and it was so fun to see faces I knew in the midst of all the chaos. By the time I was finally able to leave on Saturday, at 5:30am, the club was still in full swing I snuck past my manager and got into a taxi. I came home and cooked myself breakfast and my head finally hit the pillow just as the sun was coming up.

All-in-all it is an experience I am SO grateful that I had. Most people called me crazy, and I am not denying it. It was tough, but a cool thing to do for a weekend, at least. And thankfully I earned my $5 and about $1.50 in tips!

The following are comparison notes I made to myself while I worked about serving in Kenya that I feel like most of my service industry friends would appreciate:

• On average I consume 1-2 Red Bulls a week here, but as soon I was at work I realized my consumption went up to 3 per day. 
• Lots of people told me, "you walk so fast, you always look like you are in a rush," and I've been accused of the same thing at Reata countless times. I don't think the majority of people here could wrap their heads around the concept of 'prompt service.'
• Even in giant Kenyan nightclubs the servers still stand around the well and yell at the bartender to go faster, even though they are obviously trying their very best and the harassment does no good. 
• Wearing a name tag in the club two nights in a row may have sealed my fate of all the creepy men in the metroplex knowing my name from now on. 
• While the other servers were able to steal a break every now and again by hiding in dark corners, my skin glowed like neon in the dark room and I was constantly being called on. 
• I am grateful I don't have to "hustle" for tips in America, E.G. hiking prices on certain drinks to pocket the extra cash, telling customers we are out of change, ect. It was not something I was comfortable doing, but it was at least interesting to know how the servers earn their bread each night. 
• The staff will always stand around and complain about management and assume that they know how to fix all the problems in the restaurant. 
• The level of harassment for a white girl in uniform working at club full of skeezy drunk men isn't quite as bad as you would imagine it.... it is so much worse.

I really just can't put into proper words how similar it was to working in any place in America. It was one of the strangest experiences of my life, honestly. I decided I really quite enjoyed most of the staff, and I really enjoyed getting to work with dancehall, reggae, trance, and East African music alternately blaring in the background. However, having said all of that I have to admit it was very hard to be away from the Ngong Crew for 48 full hours. When I finally woke up on Sunday at two in the afternoon I felt like I had not seen them in a month. I still haven't decided if I will work again, but regardless I am sure to be back at Reloaded, either as a patron or server within the next month!