Small farms survive

I have decided to withhold my death to small farms agenda until such a time when I am the UN secretary general and can speak without worrying about future employers misinterpreting my good intentions. For this deflowering session, I will be gentle and focus on the Swedish decency juxtaposed with Kenyan hospitality.
Before I start I wish to put a disclaimer. The thoughts below belong to me and can therefore not be taken too seriouslyJ.
The one thing that I notice upon arrival in Sweden is that I have ample time to be alone. Apart from student life, everything seems well ordered and pre-planned. Swedish street decency is a welcome relief though sometimes I miss the order in disorder back home. I love the security, honesty, order and dependability in Sweden. If I knew how to, I could actually do an elaborate mental GIS analysis as I walk to Kamnarsvagen uninterrupted. There are no crowds in the streets, no shouting or heckling or being forced to buy something you don’t need or get into a matatu for 20shillings, con men, city council askaris, greasy food, and teenage wanna-bees Nairobi style.
In Nairobi, I never know who will drop in at the office, home, invitation only ceremony, bus station, anywhere and everywhere. Friends and enemies, relatives, their friends…drop in at a time of their liking. I actually never noticed that was how day to day life was in Kenya until I experienced Swedish decency. Is it bad..no, just different . With the school schedule, I am lucky to be so far from the regular visits.
Nairobi’s randomness may drive some people crazy and some people really hate the hustle but it’s grown on me. There’s no public and private life because it’s all public, so if I come off as blunt sometimes it’s no t me…. It’s the Nairobian in me. We all belong to a community and subscribe to the invisible rules of sharing and caring. There is no Swahili translation for I miss you. We have translations for love, want, need, desire everything but miss. Coincidence? I think not. We never had time to miss each other because when we miss someone we just drop by their home and chat and just stay on for as long as we like.

Now, the village or shags as we call it. (no, not an indecent word in Swahili) Picture this, no electricity, just the sky and the stars family, friends, birds, cows and a pit latrine. Sitting in the smoky kitchen putting firewood into the 3 stone stove, eating roasted sweet potatoes or yams listening to stories and drinking some homemade brew. My modern stories are common and boring in this arena so I just sit and listen. It’s not easy to explain but there is just something about going to visit my grandfamily that makes me peaceful.
And yes I miss the sunshine, but I hear the aint no sunshine since I leftJ