You know you live in Africa when.......

Its an odd time of year in Nairobi just now. This is partly because its turned a bit grey and chilly as it does between mid June and August. Socks and fleeces have appeared from drawers, extra quilts are on beds and porridge is the breakfast food of choice. But its also that the wind down/up towards the end of term heralds lots of departures - some just for the "summer" but many for good as people coincide changing jobs with the school year and so we have all started saying goodbyes and going to farewell parties and farewell sleepovers and exchanging email and Skype addresses. It's an aspect of our lives here that's unlike life in London, where departures were really rare and although there was lots of chat about moving out at some point, people usually meant moving within a hundred miles, not crossing continents.

In a fortnight that has mainly been filled with the normality of life - work, end of season matches, parents evenings and school shows, going out with friends, having kids to stay, having friends for dinner, and weather more like London than living on the equator, I've been wondering what else about our life here reminds me I am in Africa.

There are the obvious things. The real focus on Mandela's condition in all the news and the interest in exactly where Obama is and isnt visiting. We have also had a couple of big power cuts which meant bedtime stories by head torch (and a rude awakening at 1am when the power and lights came back). Then there has been the water rationing which saw our storage tank empty out and a friend run out of water totally just as 10 people turned up for coffee. And the roadworks, which are almost entirely done by hand rather than heavy machinery and which meant it took me an hour and forty minutes to drive 3 miles the other day. Grrrrr.

And of course there are the perks - the laundry that is done almost as soon as the clothes hit the wash basket, the shopping that is bought and put away whilst I'm at work, the washing up that we rarely touch but is always done, the never empty cake tin, the very willing people who pack and carry heavy shopping to the car, the work trips that take us to all sorts of places - Tanzania for me this week, London for Tim last week and jo'burg next.

Then there are the African twists on things - the passion juice and samosa to keep parents going through chaotic parents evenings, the dog food and prawns given equal billing with chicken, mince and goat at the local butcher, the traditional African story of a hare who wanted to be king of animals turned into a musical (of sorts) performance by year 3 and 4 kids, the drive through coffee plants to reach a small fishing lake for a quiet Sunday trip with friends, the kites divebombing our picnic and the camel in the background (not quite near enough to be identifiable in this)

And this appearing as I washed my homegrown salad!

S is for Sevens, Socialising and School fairs

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We are in the midst of rugby season here and both boys had major sevens tournaments in the last couple of weeks. I still cant quite get used to watching rugby in shorts and suncream but they don't really know anything else and seem not to mind the hard ground which they regularly crash down on. I try and watch when i can and am torn between shouting at them to get stuck in and worrying that it looks painful when they do. But so far they have got away with only mild knocks to the head and big grazes on elbows. Matthew is now the proud owner of a winner's medal for his tournament and Jamie's team put in a valiant effort and were runners up in their's - Matthew is clearly (not so) secretly pleased to have a better medal than his big brother. Jamie is consoling himself with making the squad for the biggest local (2hours away) sevens event of the year and so far domestic tackling practice is being kept to a minimum.

As well as a major sporting week, we have had a busy social time since getting back from our half term break. Some good friends lefty Nairobi this week and there has been a stream of farewell parties for them which has been both lots of fun, whilst at the same time knowing that there will be a big hole in my mums net from next week. They are the first of the end of summer term exodus and a reminder of the constantly moving parts of expat life, with friendships sustained through Facebook and emails. I'm not very reliable with either form of electronic communication but I'm hoping we have enough shared experiences for that not to matter. Add to that a major work function, dinner with friends and our turn to host our bi-monthly neighbourhood lunch last Sunday and its been one big social whirl. One great thing about our life here is that the lovely people who help us run the house, keep the kids in cakes and cuddles and in the right place at the right time with kit, are almost always available to babysit and stay over if we will be late in or out early. So I never have that scramble to sort childcare at the last minute. And the kids know who is looking after them, even if that doesn't always stop the debate at bed time about whether it really is bedtime or just time for one more story.

And of course its also that time of year for school fairs and end of year shows and general winding down/up for long school holidays - not quite summer holidays here as its the coolest, greyest time of year but still long! Having played my part in many school fairs I took a back seat at he kids' one last week, baking meringues with Matthew and otherwise just providing a source of cash. The set up was pretty much like all school fairs I've been too - lots of sugar to eat and drink, buns to ice, wet sponges to throw, tattoos to apply and kids generally running round noisily. Jamie's class's addition of a car wash appeared to leave kids wetter than cars and the fact that the usual parking chaos (which school is far from immune to) limited his customers didn't seem to matter.

Each class had chosen a local good cause - elephants for Katie, a local slum school for Matthew and an orphanage for Jamie - and designed a stall to try and make the most money for their charity. They raised nearly half a million shillings (about £4000) which wasnt bad for an afternoon in the sun. Some of the charities came along to join in - one of our friends is a sports teacher and physio by training and now works with disabled children for an NGO in Nairobi and Dadaab, a huge IDP camp in NE kenya. His daughter's class had chosen this as their cause and the wheelchair bound kids with so little opportunity in life and lots of smiles as their wheelchairs were raced round a specially designed track were a very real reminder for us all of the range of lives here.


Anne

Self catering, Kenyan style

Like friends and family in other parts of the world, we headed to the beach this week to make the most of the kids' two day half term. I thought it was time to try something different from our favourite (and so far the kids only) beach place and booked a small self catering house on Diani beach, south of Mombasa. There was some suspicion of this decision as we definitely have three kids who know what they like and like what they know. But we all agreed that with access to the sea, a pool and our own mini plunge pool it wouldn't be too bad and there were no complaints as we boarded the small 18 seater plane for our flight here - and even the 6am start that is so much part of our routine now didn't cause the usual school day complaints of being too tired to get up, get dressed and get out.

I knew that the house came with people to look after it - pool guy, gardener, cleaner, night guard. But I had assumed they looked after all 8 houses on the compound. Turns out I was wrong. We have a cleaner all day, a chef and another man who generally helps the first 2, sorts taxis when we want to go off adventuring and makes coffee at just the right moment. Then there is the head chef for the compound who pops in to see what we would like the local fishermen to catch for dinner and to collect the cash for any other shopping we need. Plus of course the communal pool guy and gardener, who has been picking fresh coconuts for the kids to drink and then turn into toys for pool games.

On occasion it does feel a bit like Piccadilly Circus and I'm glad a packed lots of sarongs to wear over my swimwear - which is definitely in need of a major overhaul after a mix of high use, extreme laundry and strong chemicals have tested it to its limits. But it does mean we are all very relaxed and have plenty of time to go rockpooling, looking for crabs, snorkelling, swimming, reading and generally hanging out in the water.

And if that's not relaxing enough, the house comes with a massage bed in the garden and a lady called Rose who comes over to do nails, massage and a range of other beauty treatments. Tough life!

Katie has rarely been out of her new bikini, which she bought at H&M in london in the Easter snow and which Jamie and I deemed far too bling to be seen carrying round the shop until it was safely hidden in a plastic bag. Walking to the beach yesterday she wondered out loud why such things were sold in a country that is soooooo cold that she could never wear it there. I fear a lengthy process of rehab will be needed to ease her back to picnics and fish and chips on windy pebbly beaches in Sussex and Cornwall. She may not be the only one who needs it.



Jamie has had fun learning how to prepare crabs, reading and just relaxing.





Matthew has been torn between his Harry Potter book and the pool and has immersed himself in both in equal measure

And Tim and I have read lots, done a bit of running (Tim) and swimming (me) and just generally unwound. We are all agreed we love the beach. I'm already being asked when we will be back at the seaside, and fun as the "self catering" has been the consensus is that next time we will return to our usual haunt.

Anne