Kenyan PS

Dear All,

In Buea Janice and I had a large golf umbrella ("room and parlor size,"
as the Camerroonians would say) which had sentimental value, because it
symbolized our time there in some ways.  It reminded us of the 130 inches
of rain that fell annually in Buea.  Its blue, red, and yellow panels
marked it as the standard umbrella of Nigerian manufacture, reminding us
of the important role that Nigerians played as the merchants of that
region of Africa.  When Janice left for the US, she cautioned me not to
forget to bring the umbrella home when I followed six weeks later.  When
I packed for my own return, I carefully set the umbrella at the door jamb
of the corridor leading back to the bedrooms of our house so that I would
be sure to remember to take it.  At the door jamb is where it stayed in
my excitement to leave for the airport in Douala.  I sent a note to
Sarah Christiansen, who rented our house after I left, to hold on to the
umbrella, because I would somehow arrange its transportation to the US,
but I never succeeded.

Toward the end of my stay with Muchai, I noticed two umbrellas at the
end of a corridor.  One of the them was identical to my umbrella from
Buea.  The Nigerians' commercial reach was quite long, stretching 2000
miles across the middle of Africa!  I knew I had to buy one.  I asked
Muchai the going rate for the umbrella (about 200 shillings) to arm
myself for the necessary bargaining.  In Lamu I bought the umbrella, and
for the rest of the trip lugged it with me.

At the airport in Nairobi I checked in at the ticket counter, went through
passport control, and then went up an escalator to the departure area,
remarking as I went that the escalator was the fastest I had ever used.
Shortly thereafter I realized I had left the umbrella at the ticket counter
but technically could not return, because I had already gone through
passport control.  Still, I followed the corridors back downstairs through
the arrival area to passport control to see what to do.  They stated that
I had to go through the departure area, which I had avoided because of the
escalator.  I returned to the escalator, blanched, and sought another way,
soon finding an elevator.  After negotiating my way through the passport
control, thanks to a sympathetic immigration officer, I saw Helen Lakatos
with my umbrella.  For the remainder of the trip I guarded the umbrella
closely, although I reluctantly lent it to Tom Schultz in Amsterdam so that
he could avoid the rain in a brief trip downtown between flights.  Janice
was thrilled to see my gift for her.

Last week, when I told this story to Miranda Teboh and Julius Ewungkem,
who are Buea graduates in graduate school at Lehigh, Julius told me that
everyone in Buea knew me as the white man with the large umbrella.