Poetic Nairobi

Loads of churches and church related schools and unis

Loads of armed security men at every entrance 

Roads are like a motor-museum, as entertaining as polluting: Classic english models from the fifties to modern art graffitied glow in the dark busses 

Red earth and scattered clouds contrasting the the blue on top there 

Down here trees stand relaxed, secure of themselves , this is THEIR place

Massive woman heeling up and down, their femininity dressed up in as many colours as possible

And how do walking men keep their shoes shiny and their suits clean will forever remain a mystery

Kindness

Surprise

Sadness

Distrust 

Are some of the feelings their eyes show, from the littlest ones to the most senior ones 

Attentive and happy is what they are despite all 

Proud is how they stand 

Africa is Africa and you can feel it in its beat , a rhythm of its own 

Elephants inside the supermarket , giraffes directing traffic from atop the roundabout and the feeling that all those things that would be oh so inconvenient at home, are what give this place an air of romance, a sight of when in Africa ... 

ITS SUNDAY MORNING

   
FUCK STYLE
Stylish as we think they are, Romans have a fétiche with the tracksuits, I guarantee you. I used to think that they wore them for flights scarifying style in name of comfort, since they are confined to (or in?) a tin tube and no one can see them. But spending a Sunday morning (and a few more days) wandering around the cafés and parks and streets of the roman hoods, I scientifically proved that they just adore them! Fuck style: Wear tracksuits! Yells Rome, to my horror, in my face, this not too chilly February Sunday morning.
Ding dong go the bells, men run or ride, families and older couples pop in and out cafés for espressos and walks. And everyone seems to have a dog. And dogs seem to be frisky and friendly with each other and any other thing they can rub themselves on. People say dogs are like their owners. Maybe they get a kick from the ding dongs... Who knows?