Meet The Neighbors

I spent a better part of today unpacking. I was a machine…ripping open boxes, plowing through paper, and quickly storing most of our things in their new spot. It was exhausting but rewarding to see 90% of the boxes empty and lined up in the driveway. Late in the afternoon I decided to break and take some time to acknowledge the holiday. I called Shorty out to the porch and had a manhood training session. He helped me assemble the Smokey Joe grill I’d bought but never used for the potential post-Katrina power outage I’d anticipated.

Next, I fumbled my way through grilling turkey burgers and hot dogs for our dinner. I was quite a sight, awkwardly handling the long metal spatula and trying to simultaneously avoid the flames that were nearly licking the hair on my knuckles while turning the not so cooked burgers & charring the hot dogs. I went into the kitchen for fresh air from the smoke and thought, “I didn’t realize Joe was going to be quite so smokey but should’ve known since I haven’t had to play the man’s role in such a Y-chromosome way in such a long time!” Then I heard it…{Ding dong!}

Shorty & I looked at each other with the same “Huh?!” look on our faces. Who could be calling on us when we know no one in town? I swiftly made my way to the front door and opened it without asking the usual, “Who is it?” For God’s sake, this is {insert IA town name here}. It’s not likely to be a crack head or an axe murderer. Maybe a Jehovah’s Witness, but not a crack head or an axe murderer.

“Hi, my name is Alice! I live across the street from you. Heather {the previous owner} told me you were moving in and have the same name as my daughter,” the woman said in a heavy Kenyan accent.

“Yes!” I replied. “She & I spoke about that last Friday while I was doing the walk through. So you are Kikuyu also?” I asked, already knowing the answer. The funny thing about Kikuyus is we always manage to find each other, no matter where we are.

After chatting for a bit, Alice invited Shorty & I to dinner at their spot…a traditional Kikuyu dinner, including chappati (my favorite!). I accepted and promised we’d be over as soon as I could get it together. We arrived 30-45 minutes late (typical for a Kikuyu dinner) and walked into a dinner in progress. I scanned the table and felt as if I’d walked into a home I’d been to before (oh yeah…all the condos have the same layout), and was reminded of the dinners I’d attended with my parents at their friends’ homes during my childhood.

We took our places at the table and even though we’d just eaten, accepted the obligatory plates of food. We nibbled as I conversed with the other couples at the table. On the way over, I’d already briefed Shorty on traditional Kikuyu etiquette…children are to be seen and not heard at the dinner table, then to be shuffled off to another room so grown folks could talk. I enjoyed my grown up position in the conversation, sharing my family’s origins in Kenya…laughing about the lack of excitement in IA…discussing the latest book penned by a Kenyan author about the Mau Mau rebellion. In the midst of it all, a young man let himself in and was promptly introduced.

“This is Chris! He’s Kenyan too!” Alice declared.

I recognized him. I’d seen him on the front page of the town newspaper when I’d come to IA to househunt at the end of May. I already knew he was Masaai. I already knew he was in his 20s. I already knew he was a chemical engineer. I’d thought of him often after I’d seen his picture in the paper and had anticipated meeting him.

He was seated next to me so naturally, we started talking. We have some things in common, but I made a concerted effort not to get too caught up in this guy. “He’s just another Kenyan,” I told myself, trying not to be so obvious while sizing him up. He seemed intrigued when I started talking about my career…4 years of chemical process engineering, 4 years of environmental engineering (he’s just been summoned into environmental engineering). He seemed even more interested when I told him I speak more than one language (sooo not American). He asked me if I’d heard of the Big Brothers/Big Sisters program, & I told him I had. He said he had just sent an email to the town coordinator today expressing his interest in being a Big. He asked if I was going to enroll Shorty, which I told him I am after today’s manhood training fiasco with the grill. He told me he’d like to be Shorty’s Big…if I’m interested.

By that time it was dark and the children were straining to see the fireworks from the porch so Chris offered to take us all downtown. I agreed to accompany them and we made our way there. I’m not really big on fireworks, but I thought it would be a nice cap to the day for Shorty. Chris provided chairs for the children and found some for us later. He planted himself right next to me just as the big finale started. Once it was over, we were stuck in a parking lot behind an old couple who were scared to back into the street. Chris got out of his car and stopped the flow of pedestrians so the couple could back out. He then inquired as to whether I knew how to get back to the condo, which I assured him I did.

Shorty & I made it back a while before they did, so I got the sparklers I bought for him and tried unsuccessfully to ignite one with a match from the 1-800-NOT-GUILTY matchbook I’d found earlier in the day packed with things from my old junk drawer (damn it Carlos!). My neighbor to the right came over to introduce herself and quickly ran into her home to grab a power lighter. She & I chatted while Shorty enjoyed a pack of the sparklers. Chris showed up a short time later and I waved him over. My neighbor Kathy immediately recognized him and asked if we’d met.

“Yes! We just met today at dinner at Alice’s!” I affirmed.

“She’s half-Kenyan!” Chris said proudly.

“What a small world!” Kathy said. “My daughter just got on a plane 4 hours ago to go to Kenya! In fact, she’s spending the first 3 days at Chris’ mom’s house! She’s a teacher and won a trip there as part of a diversity foundation prize for educators! What a small world!” Interesting…

Chris reaffirmed his interest in being Shorty’s Big. Kathy offered any help she could be to us as we get settled (how neighborly) and welcomed us to the community. Everyone went home with a warm fuzzy feeling. I’m already liking the neighborhood.