This is under 200 words on my first moments in Kenya, the third country on the Solving Africa itinerary. You can expect short anecdotes like this from now on until I’ve exhausted all my stories from Kenya.

Kenya started off with a bang. After the ordeal of getting a Kenyan visa, I thought I’d have a hard time getting through customs. But, as soon as the immigration officer saw my green passport, he instantly broke into a smile and said, “My broda how far?” Thoroughly impressed with his rendition of Nigerian pidgin and a little shocked to hear pidgin in Kenya, I asked him why he was speaking pidgin, didn’t Kenya want to keep Nigerians out at all costs? I should have known better than to ask that question because I could have predicted his answer: It’s just a few giving you a bad name, he said. Earlier this year, a Nigerian man was being deported for drug trafficking. When he was brought to the airport, he threw a tantrum, even stripped down until he was stark naked and had to be sent back to jail. Of course he only succeded in showing the world his family jewels because he was still deported. With that, I was handed my passport and called Oga Sir!