I love staying in a hotel. You wake up, grab a shower and go down stairs for a buffet breakfast…fresh fruits….bacon.. the works. Off you go for the day and you come to a neat room with fresh smelling laundry. While you were away they spread your bed and did your laundry. They vacuumed and they changed the sheets. And the towels. And you don’t even have to remember where you
tossed put your shower cap….because there is another brand new shower cap in place of the one you used in the morning.
Soon I will be back to reality. You know…bringing the bacon to the table (literally 🙂 ) and actually washing and chopping the fruits!
But for now, I am enjoying it, every bit of it.
The food in this hotel is just great. But….DUH! It’s a HOTEL. That’s what they do. That’s their core business.
I am My Country
I cringe when I see someone eating with their hands without washing them first. You might think after all those home science lessons the “wash your hands before you eat” mantra sank in.
It happens all the time. People eat their snacks with the same hands by which they have paid for them. Money IS dirty.
I do not eat with dirty hands. Ever. My conscience will not let me. But it is hubbz that is the fanatic when it comes to such matters. He is one person I know who will not drink untreated water if you held a gun on his head.
Together, we have cultivated this hand-washing culture in the house, that every house help who comes on board has to adhere to.
My children know they must wash their hands before handling anything that is gonna get into their mouth. At their young age -6 and 5- they have the word “bacteria” in their vocabulary. And if I could have a super-power then I’d like to be able to see them even when in school and ensure that they do wash their hands before eating their break time snack.
Last week at the cafeteria, over tea break I asked for a sandwich. There was nowhere I could wash my hands and because I didn’t have my handbag there, I didn’t have my antibacterial wipes. So, I used some serviettes to hold my sandwich.
My SA colleague ordered hers too. They were scrumptious. We ate as we chatted about this and that. She held hers with her hands. I didn’t realize that it caught her attention that I was using a serviette to hold my sandwiches the whole time.
“So, how is Kenya?”
After all the bla bla about the population and athletes and the big five, she asked me how come I was holding my sandwich using a serviette.
“My hands were not clean, that’s all”.
She told me she had thought that…”Kenyans don’t touch their food.”
I was amused. But not as as amused as when she asked if I am an athlete myself. Pahaha. Then it occurred to me, that as long as I am here in another country, I am my country.
I don’t know about you but it irks me sometimes when people generalize. It annoys me when people loosely use the term ‘Kenyans’.
“……Oh, Kenyans will never learn. Kenyans like scooping oil off overturned lorries….” I go like REALLY? what about Malawians? Or Chileans?
It becomes most annoying when someone uses the term Kenyans to highlight what is normal human behaviour. “Si you know Kenyans love free things?” Tell me one person who doesn’t listen up, when they hear the phrase ‘while stocks last’.
But some generalizations are acceptable. I have been in a few places now and I can confidently say Kenyans are very hard working. It’s our culture I think. We do stuff. We work late. We hustle. We get things done. Faster.
Unfoshunatery 😛 the same cannot be said of Mzansians. They take their time. They are not hurried. You might think they don’t care. But it’s their culture. Here, they don’t work late
There I go, generalizing. And you can tell. I am biased.
Week two, in Mzansi.
PS: I did have a great weekend, with my friend and her family. So much for (my)raised eyebrows.