Stay Local. Even in an Emergency

 When you go to Rome, please don't do what Romans do. DON'T. In fact, don't see what Romans are doing. Or better yet, don't see Romans! No. Don't go to Rome!

Put your shoes on, tie those laces, and grab your jacket to join me on this journey as I take you through the path that taught me tough lessons.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our descent into O.R. Tambo International Airport in Johannesburg. The local time is 10:35 am, and the current temperature is [I did not get that very well]. For your safety, please return your seats and tray tables to their upright and locked positions, and ensure all carry-on luggage is stowed securely in the overhead bins or under the seat in front of you. Please remain seated until the aircraft has come to a complete stop at the gate and the seatbelt sign has been turned off. On behalf of Kenya Airways and the entire crew, we thank you for flying with us and hope to see you again soon. Welcome to Johannesburg!"

Then the translation in Kiswahili…

This is it, guys. Johannesburg, South Africa! It was my first time on a plane outside of Kenya. Forget the times I cycled to Tarakea, Tanzania border, and the time I sneaked out to see Moyale, Ethiopia. This time I was truly outside of Kenya.

I didn't sleep the previous night. No. Ever since I got the confirmation on August 23rd until October 23rd when I was flying out. Not to mention the excitement that hit me on the plane and the confusion that overwhelmed me at the airport. I will narrate that wild encounter someday.

I was heading to Cape Town, far South of South Africa. I had to catch another flight to Cape Town. Catch. I smiled when writing that. From catching drafts to catching flights. (Drafts are for cyclists). My next flight was scheduled for 5:15 pm. That meant I had a couple of hours to spend at O.R. Tambo before flying out.

This is where my nightmare began.

To avoid looking confused, I hurried off the plane just like everyone else. (Do what Romans do). I grabbed my trolley, a small suitcase with an extra suit that I had brought specifically for this visit, and my toothbrush. Nothing else. It was brief.

In my haste, I spotted a food court and, to seem more like the Romans, I didn't think twice. I went and sat down and ordered coffee. I honestly don't know the different types of coffee;

''Americano or ….'' the attendant asked.

''Yes, that one.'' I answered without waiting for a long list of options that would confuse me.

I was disappointed to find out that it was without milk! A Kalenjin man, staying in Masai Land, drinking coffee without milk? Well, this is what Romans do.

I ordered a piece of cake to smuggle it with the black coffee.

I took my time because the purpose was to buy time.

In the Republic of South Africa, there is no Mpesa. I thought you should know. Or at least to show you how things were starting to get complicated for me.
I gave out my card, and unlike what I was used to here, where I have to input my pin, there was none of it. It was swiped, just like that. My mind was still struggling with converting the Rands to Kenyan Shillings or US dollars to Kenyan shillings. I never figured it out, even after spending a whole week in Kenya trying to convert. I never bothered to pick up my calculator. Besides, my card was loaded, and I was being a roman here.

I picked up my luggage and strolled around.

Romans moving up and down, left and right, brushing shoes, eating, drinking, sleeping, shopping, holding each other, and those. While my mind was still lost on the romans, I was awoken by another roman.

''Hello, my friend! Welcome to South Africa. Is this your first time?''

''I am good. Thank you.'' I never wanted to confirm the obvious.

''Where are you heading to?'' I am heading to Cape Town.

''I see you still have a lot of time until then! Anyway, to board your flight, you will go up, then proceed directly before taking your right. Enjoy your stay in South Africa,'' he said as he pointed to where I was supposed to head to. I thanked him and proceeded.

Without realizing, another roman was listening at the sides and decided to follow me. He was not wearing a reflector jacket like the previous one.

''Aah, my man! Welcome to South Africa. Which direction are you heading? I am heading to the boarding site for Cape Town flights!''

''I am heading there as well.''

Great. This guy, smiling huge and wide, is busy telling me stories while being nice. True to his word, he accompanies me to where I was heading. He gave me the history of South Africa and warned me about the fine, fine ladies of Cape Town, among other things.

We were there. He continued being nice. Then he greeted his friends who were shining shoes at the sides.

One of his friends came and greeted us. He offered to shine shoes for me. Before I even responded, I was sitting on a comfortable chair, and my jacket was removed and hung beside me. Someone else was already working on my shoes. Questions after questions flowing. Before I could respond, another one was on the way. I was just ah… ah… yes ah…like... yes... only. I was being attended to by three people, and my newfound friend beside me was telling stories like a local radio station back home.

They went ahead and asked me if I wanted anything to eat or so. They showed me where the washrooms were in case I needed them. Once they were finished, they asked me to continue sitting as I was not in a hurry and there was no one else in the queue. Constant stories, constant questions. Then all of a sudden, they were in a rush. 

''My friend, we were just helping you out. You can tip us with a thousand rand for my colleague here.'' The Roman 'friend' I came with told them off, saying that I can't be ripped off while he was there. He asked them to be considerate.I swiped 600 rands! Six hundred rand or a little more for shining shoes? I was in awe, but the locals around looked like life was going on for them. I left confused. I told myself not to fall for that trap again.

Oh. He was one of them!

Souvenirs here and there, something nice. A good something. This will look good. This one too. I departed for Cape Town.

While at the hotel, I treated myself to South African wine here and there. Who wouldn't! Beer as well. Then why not a night club? I even met MP Salasya having a good time there. Why not me? South Africans partying like there's no tomorrow.

No SMS notification from my bank? No worries. I have chums.

While in my hotel room, I went to my mobile banking app to see the damage. My ego still over the roof. In fact, I was just confirming that it was still intact.

"Good evening, Jancan. Password?"

I went directly to Sign in with Touch ID.

Chesos!

Chesos!

I adjusted my sitting position on the bed.

No, I moved to the chair so that I can see well. The same.

Chest pains. Misty eyes. Blank stare. I felt the urge to go to the bathroom. While in the bathroom, things were light and moving very fast. I had gained a driving certificate. I woke up from the toilet seat, zipped and buttoned my shorts. It still went down like a flag. 'Brother Bernard' sound echoing as it went down. I pulled it up again only to realize that toilet paper was still sticking in my bottoms. The image of myself in the mirror was mocking me. I was darker than usual and my eyes had turned white. I was frail and weak.

Man, let nothing fool you. Only spend in your local village.