Things have changed. Zamani miaka ya 80s na 90s anyone travelling majuu alikuwa anapelekwa na kirindi mwenda.
Buses were hired and banana trees and twigs were installed Kwa side mirrors.
Special choirs also accompanied the family of the supposedly LUCKY person who was about to board a plane since it was a rare feat.
Kulele kijijini wajuaji would speak about aeroplanes and all manner of questions would be tossed around such as where do the shit go when you take a dump huko juu.
Just before the lucky chap was to disappear into the departures lounge, Loooong prayers were conducted to protect the plane from disaster since people had great expectations from this lad akienda UK ama US.
Times have changed siku hizi even 3 people are enough to see you off.
One of my uncle’s went to Australia in 1988, hiyo siku tuliamshwa 5am tukapanda hired bus kwenda tao na watu wengine was Kijiji. That uncle became an alcoholic mbaya sana kule Melbourne and got deported in 1994 with absolutely nothing
lol Wasn’t there even a waving bay? Hahaha. Mi nikienda shule nilienda kisniper. No one knew. Even the chic I had sex with that day had no idea that my suitcases were already packed and ready to go. Hizo siku hakukua na WhatsApp or Facebook Messenger. Watu walijua nimeenda via Yahoo Messenger. Primary communication was email or Yahoo messenger. In Europe those days the inn thing was ICQ messenger.
I think my first shock majuu was realising how Safaricom and Kencell were dicking us back home. I came to realise phone calls out there were ridiculously cheap. Then calling home you’d buy a calling card ya 5 euros and you can call home for 2 hours +. Yet watu wa home kama mtu hana VoiP then they’d have to pay 100 bob per minute to call you.
Then when smartphones first came out. Nikafunzwa kitu inaitwa contract phone. You pay 1 euro and pick a phone of your choice. Then you pay 30 or 40 euros a month, can’t remember well and can make unlimited calls & sms on the same network and 100 minutes and 100 sms on other networks, plus free internet. And after the contract ends in 2 years, you either keep the phone or trade it in for a new one on a new contract. Nikajinyakulia BlackBerry Bold ya Obama. When Steve Jobs released the iPhone my network (02) tried in vain to convince me to pick one and feelthe revolution, but no, I was an Obama admirer (how dumb I was!) and wasn’t letting go of “Obama’s phone” for this gimmicky thing with a touch screen “Why the fuckwould I want a touch screen?”, I thought to myself. Little did I know oh!
If I remember correctly, those days the cheapest safaricom scratch card was 500 /- and it would be over in no time. Calls were 29 bob a minute on safcom and Kencell used to charge calls PER SECOND!
Whoa the good (or bad?) 'ol days.
Calling cards were found at your local corner shop run by a muhindi. You ask him which is the best calling card and the disappointment was real. Call drop, unclear network, alafu inakula credit like nonsense. Europe is a soft landing for Kenyans I believe, North America is where people suffer.
Very true buana. Mimi only 4 people saw me off. Mom, Dad, an Uncle and my younger bro. Na nilitoka KE around 21:10 hapo nikafika Istanbul 4:05 in the morning. Epic journey that I recall to date.
Mimi nilitoka KE juzi juzi when everything had taken off but sikuambia a lot of people natoka, they knew from my insta posts. At the airport, only 4 people saw me off.
Good ol’ times. Back in the day we waz the shit. Nakumbuka nikiondokea nilitoka na ile design ya uzito wazimu. Tulikuwa na sis who was on a return trip, basically came to pick me up … nikamalizie high sch majuu, juu ati I had become a total fuck up according to them.
Nakumbuka ilikuwa Sunday na hio wkend extended family kibao walikuwa mtaa wakichapa tamasha mbaya mbovu. Ile time ya kuondoka, mzae ali- dispatch landrover kaa zote za GK zitu safirisha hadi JKIA. Btwn nikiwa mtoi I used to think landrover zote za GK ni zetu. Just coz we rode them everywhere.Sch, home, ocha, groceries, outting, vacations … everywhere. Tangu enzi ya 109 hadi 110. It was fucking nice man. Anyway, mombasa rd ni convoy ya gk inapepea banae. Kufika airport, kumbe mzae alikuwa na uzito huko pia, entourage mzima hao hadi vip. Tunapata bazenga huko na head of airport security wanameza cognac pole pole.
Mizinga zikaongezwa, sherehe ikaendelea. Ma goodbye hapa pale, aunties na cousin sisters off age wamelewa wanalia upuss… me I just wanna get the fuk out. Time imefika kuondoka, as if the abuse was not enough; my mum, I think two of my aunties n some cousins escorted by some security guys where actually allowed to come with us hadi kwa ndege KQ ndani.
We were last coming in, the plane was near full with most settled in and here we come, a punch of nilotic looking people … some visibly drunk, hugging, crying, making weird blessings gestures in an equally weird dialect n wat not. Security had to rush them out coz it was time to go. Pple where looking at us like wtf. It must have been a fuckin’ shit show. The all trip was unsettling for us esp my sis,she couldn’t wait to get to Heathrow n transit.We could sense people talking bout us … n some looks, were those of total disgust and contempt like it was our fault. They prolly figured we were part of what’s wrong with Kenya and entitled Moi protegee. But hey … Fuck them. We waz the shit back then.
Makes me a bit sad how I always see myself off, my departure has never been celebrated ever… am too secretive, never taken a photo in or with a plane and I don’t plan to, I find it cringy as fuck but I could be the wrong one for not celebrating small wins