Packing Advice for the Africa-Bound

So, as some of you may know, my family is coming out to visit me in Kenya in less than a month. Well, they are more coming to visit Kenya than visit me. Or maybe they are coming to pick me up. Because they know that I might not come back to the United States unless they come to take me away. Either way, I am excited to have my family come join me in Africa. When they come, we will go on safari to all the major Kenyan National Parks, including Masaii Mara, Tsavo and Amboseli. Their arrival will be accompanied by a transformation of my own. I will transform from the savvy practically-Kenyan working girl I’ve been for the past month and a half, proudly saying “Mimi si mtalii,” (I’m not a tourist) “I work here. With Mombasa Water Company” to the clearly-a-tourist-riding-around-in-a-safari-van-wearing-a-big-floppy-safari-hat mzungu. So it goes.

My whole family is coming out, which means a Sajewski-clan family trip the likes of which we haven’t had in a year or two. It is hard when we start growing up. Our summers and school breaks used to be filled with road trips across the United States (taken eight or ten at a time), exploring the wild, wild West, or flying away to find food and fine art in Italy. Now, with my older brother working and my college breaks that don’t coincide with anyone else’s breaks and the “little kids,” as I have always called them, growing up, it gets more tricky to find all six super Sajewskis together. I guess that’s life. But it will make me appreciate our safari this summer even more.

I’m sure that they are excited to come and see me too. In fact, my older brother, Danny, even asked me for packing advice. So here it is, although, warning, this might not apply to non-interning-in-Mombasa-with-Seureca college girls.

Do bring:

A good knife. Your apartment will have a very nice kitchen, but the knives will be terribly dull. And you need something sharp to cut your not-quite-ripe mangos.

Sunglasses, even though most of the times when you are squinting in the bright sunlight and really need sunglasses, you will have left them in your room.

Nutella. Sure, they sell Nutella and peanut butter and all other sorts of wonderful bread spreads in the Nakumatt, but it is nice to arrive late on a Tuesday night and gleefully pull out that jar of Nutella for a bedtime snack.

Multiple notebooks. Because, knowing you, you will want to take notes about everything. And Luisa from IIP will tell you to keep a journal, which you will faithfully keep for about 2 weeks and then sporadically write that you should be writing more. And you will need a notebook for writing all the Swahili you are learning. And another notebook to take into the field and take notes with.

Lots and Lots of Pens. Every day, when you go to the office, you will lose pens. They seem to walk off to your co-workers’ desks or simply disappear. And eventually, you will be down to only two pens, which you will desperately hold on to because, without them, you would be stranded in a sea of inkless-ness with a strong urge to write in all those notebooks you brought and an inability to do so.

A Sewing Kit. Not because you will sew on buttons, because that would be too practical. But because you will accidentally stumble into the Old Town fashion district and find beautiful sequined medallions and want to sew them onto that simple, boring black dress you bought at the market for 350 Kshs (about $3.75). And then, when it is complete, you will feel like a fashion designer and be really proud of yourself, even proud of the needle pricks in several of your fingers.

Vitamins, of the chewy gummy variety. You will be cooking for yourself. At the beginning of the week, after your weekend shopping, you will eat very well, with all sorts of fruits and vegetables and milk and healthy things to balance your meals. But by the end of the week, you will always run out of anything fresh and be left with just flour and rice. And you will eat ugali and rice and be very happy that you brought along a tub of vitamins to keep you healthy.

Fun Going-Out Clothes. Even if you don’t go searching for Mombasa nightlife, it will come and find you. And you should be prepared in a fun dress and sparkly shoes when it does.

Friends’ Phone Numbers. Because you will discover that it is almost as cheap to call home to the United States as to call other Safaricom numbers in Kenya. And you will want to talk to your parents sometimes. And your friends. And you will lose all the addresses they gave you to send them postcards, so you will have to call them or write in your blog post that you need their addresses again (hint: Give me your addresses. Even if you already did, I can’t find any of them I want to send you postcards.)

Do Not Bring:

Shoes you cannot walk around on dirt roads with. Otherwise, on your first day at the office, when you choose to wear your tortoise-shell pumps to look classy, you will have to walk a few kilometers over bumpy, rough, muddy dirt roads to go to lunch and get terrible blisters and have to smile through your teeth when your co-worker asks you if you are okay in those shoes, because you know she thinks you are ridiculous. And then you will never wear those shoes again.

That floppy hat which your mom stole from your little brother so you could wear it out in the field. You will never wear it because it is a little too small and makes you feel silly. Plus, it doesn’t match your business clothes which are what you happen to wear into the field. And your co-workers will ask you “Where is your kip?” which you will eventually realize means “hat” and you will just reply that you didn’t bring a kip because you don’t want to break out the floppy safari hat.

Clothes that get wrinkled. Because, even though you were advised to hang up your business clothes as soon as you get back from work, you will inevitably fall back on your old ways and end up with a bed covered with a heap of clothes. And they will all get wrinkled. And your wearable-wardrobe will gradually decrease as clothes get too wrinkly for even you to wear, despite the fact you always promise to iron your clothes tomorrow.

Take Caution When Bringing:

A Ukulele. You will really enjoy having your ukulele with you. You will learn all sorts of new songs and finally get down the whole strumming-pattern-changing-chords-humming/singing-a-melody thing. But everyone who sees you carrying around your ukulele case will assume that you are a “musician.” And despite your protests that you are just learning and you can’t really sing, they will make you take it out and play them a song. And you will have no choice but to comply with their demands. And your face will turn bright red as you pick out the notes to “Here Comes the Sun” and then sheepishly put away your ukulele and run away. 

So that is my packing advice. I warned you it may not be very useful to everyone. But if you ever find yourself in my dusty (and wisely not high-heeled) shoes, this advice will come in very handy.