Any Excuse to Ditch the Perpetually Stormy Ocean of Dirt and Petrol That is Nairobi

12/6/08
Historians Association of Kenya Annual Conference
Egerton University – Nakuru, Kenya - Day 1

The Vice Chancellor of the association began his opening remarks four hours after the itinerary suggested. Reminding his fellow historians that Kenya’s history dates back further than anyone else’s, he laughed at a couple of his own unfunny jokes before letting the Keynote speaker give his self-described “facts and speculations” concerning the history of the land that “forged human existence”. Paying word-for-word attention to United States International University Professor Macharia Menune proved untenable. Macharia, like the majority of the presenters, spoke long, slow and circular. A trifecta of longwindedness factors: 1. Oldness 2. Africaness 3. Percieved encouragement from fellow historians that the speaker has something worthwhile to say and that the longer it takes to say it, the more worthwhile it is.
Macharia, and no less than a few others, did have wise words concerning the relevance of history in places where governments stands to benefit from folks forgetting the past. Using pro-historian themes laden with examples, allegories, and parallels involving pangas, bellies, and hyenas, Macharia spurred admitted anger throughout the room at the Kenyan government, and the world, for not giving history its due. The association chancellor suggested demonstrations as a means of getting respect. Then he looked at the size of his and other conference leaders’ guts before joining them in laughter.
Surrounded by other unabashed nerdlingers who love to talk, I found the conference helpful to my own research. On the opening night of the conference, Prof Macharia learned of my research game and, furthering his reputation as a class act, gave me two articles he remarkably had on his person.
I was the youngest registered attendee at the conference. But a few volunteer loiterers hung out around the conference room who attended Egerton as undergrads. Nick accredited their presence with a university desire to foster a community feel for the affair. Since the students found everything I did to be hilarious regardless of my intentions, I decided to behave comedically in order to give them the most bang for their mzungu buck. I’d greet them with whistles, peace signs, or exaggerated knuckle bumps. Busted mad slang, which confused more than amused. The best humor lay in imitating Kenyan accents in either Kiswahili or, more dynamically, in English. I speculate they cracked up from this because although I think I am nailing the impression, I in truth sound nothing like them. When E. Africans imitate American tongue, they sound like a TV anchor who has a badly congested nose, and who is mentally retarded.