Jomo Kenyatta International Airport - Nairobi's international airport - has been the site of some heady emotions for me. Arriving with excitement, leaving with excitement, welcoming with excitement, keeping hold of handfuls of passports and email travel tickets, or of trying to maneouvre in suitcase after suitcase of Essentials (aka branston pickle, brandy butter and mincemeat.) And when emotions run high, my glasses steam up.
Scientists have demonstrated that specific details learned during heightened emotions are less likely to be remembered. That's my case, and I'm sticking to it. And it was proved conclusively today, one of my least successful during my time in Kenya.... Reader, read on.
I'd arranged to meet up with my start-up business's accountant at his offices, out at the airport. I've been with this accountancy firm for 18 months, and they are marvellous. Can explain tricky concepts so that, even if I don't understand them now, its clear from my notes I did understand them when we were face to face. Set up my company with no hassle. Took me through the Kenyan tax system. Explained the procedures for getting work permits (more than once) and lent support to my case. Most importantly, do it all without paying bribes, without ever paying bribes, a major major accomplishment for Kenyan fixers.
Over the 18 months I've only once been to their offices, right at the beginning. Out at the airport is a long way from home for me, and for most things they send the papers in to be signed with a staff member to a handy central Java cafe, and you do your business there. But today I wanted to copy a spreadsheet, discuss procedures, hand over a shoeboxful of receipts, get firm guidance. Take reliable notes. Needed to make my way back to their offices.
The road to the airport is tortuous. It runs through the industrial area and some major roadworks. It's the main road from the freight port at the coast through to Uganda and Rwanda. It's busy, with petrol tankers and freight lorries and shipping crates. Busier still when (as today) the rains are here. So I set off early. Allowed an hour and a half for a trip that, early morning, takes 20 minutes. And the monsoon rains started - great plump drops, heavy heavy rain.
I'm not a confident book-keeper. I know others do it better, consistently put the same article in the same column, log items chronologically. So when I look at my shoebox full of receipts, I get that hot flush under my collar, much as I would if someone were leafing through my knicker drawer. Private, and should stay that way. So I'm already rather flustered about the journey.
But off I drive, through the rain and the massive potholes, and much later am nearing the airport. There's the fence. There's the sign. But which way is it? In a very Kenyan way, the sign for the airport is in the middle of the road and doesn't point out which way the airport itself lies. I know I should know. Have been here often before. But remember the heightened emotions. And usually, if we are travelling, a driver brings us as there's no airport parking. So I took the righthand lane, and whizzed over a flyover, through a post-industrial landscape reminiscent of scenes from the Sopranos, and far far away from the airport. NOT that way, go off road to turn round and zip between carriageways, back we go again.
THERE'S the airport, some 20 minutes later, still in the driving rain. Fumble with the map. Take the first turning before the airport barrier. Oh no here's the barrier. Here are the police bombchecks. Here's the bit you can't reverse out through.
'Please can you tell me how to get to this bit?'
'But Madam, that's at Wilson airport not here....'
Oh my. So it is. Quite another airport, quite another bit of town. Probably an hour away in the torrential rain. And I've been there before too. It's just, when you're paralysed by receipts and directions, when your glasses are steamed up, well it's hard being efficient and effective.
Phoned the accountant to apologise. He said he could hold on for me. And this is why you want him to be your accountant too, when I said,
'Well actually, I've just been to the wrong airport, am stuck in traffic in the rain and am now am too flustered to listen carefully when you explain, if I did reach you', he guffawed down the line, and gave me another appointment.
What a darling. Erastus CPA. Moving next week to a more central location!
Scientists have demonstrated that specific details learned during heightened emotions are less likely to be remembered. That's my case, and I'm sticking to it. And it was proved conclusively today, one of my least successful during my time in Kenya.... Reader, read on.
I'd arranged to meet up with my start-up business's accountant at his offices, out at the airport. I've been with this accountancy firm for 18 months, and they are marvellous. Can explain tricky concepts so that, even if I don't understand them now, its clear from my notes I did understand them when we were face to face. Set up my company with no hassle. Took me through the Kenyan tax system. Explained the procedures for getting work permits (more than once) and lent support to my case. Most importantly, do it all without paying bribes, without ever paying bribes, a major major accomplishment for Kenyan fixers.
Over the 18 months I've only once been to their offices, right at the beginning. Out at the airport is a long way from home for me, and for most things they send the papers in to be signed with a staff member to a handy central Java cafe, and you do your business there. But today I wanted to copy a spreadsheet, discuss procedures, hand over a shoeboxful of receipts, get firm guidance. Take reliable notes. Needed to make my way back to their offices.
The road to the airport is tortuous. It runs through the industrial area and some major roadworks. It's the main road from the freight port at the coast through to Uganda and Rwanda. It's busy, with petrol tankers and freight lorries and shipping crates. Busier still when (as today) the rains are here. So I set off early. Allowed an hour and a half for a trip that, early morning, takes 20 minutes. And the monsoon rains started - great plump drops, heavy heavy rain.
I'm not a confident book-keeper. I know others do it better, consistently put the same article in the same column, log items chronologically. So when I look at my shoebox full of receipts, I get that hot flush under my collar, much as I would if someone were leafing through my knicker drawer. Private, and should stay that way. So I'm already rather flustered about the journey.
But off I drive, through the rain and the massive potholes, and much later am nearing the airport. There's the fence. There's the sign. But which way is it? In a very Kenyan way, the sign for the airport is in the middle of the road and doesn't point out which way the airport itself lies. I know I should know. Have been here often before. But remember the heightened emotions. And usually, if we are travelling, a driver brings us as there's no airport parking. So I took the righthand lane, and whizzed over a flyover, through a post-industrial landscape reminiscent of scenes from the Sopranos, and far far away from the airport. NOT that way, go off road to turn round and zip between carriageways, back we go again.
THERE'S the airport, some 20 minutes later, still in the driving rain. Fumble with the map. Take the first turning before the airport barrier. Oh no here's the barrier. Here are the police bombchecks. Here's the bit you can't reverse out through.
'Please can you tell me how to get to this bit?'
'But Madam, that's at Wilson airport not here....'
Oh my. So it is. Quite another airport, quite another bit of town. Probably an hour away in the torrential rain. And I've been there before too. It's just, when you're paralysed by receipts and directions, when your glasses are steamed up, well it's hard being efficient and effective.
Phoned the accountant to apologise. He said he could hold on for me. And this is why you want him to be your accountant too, when I said,
'Well actually, I've just been to the wrong airport, am stuck in traffic in the rain and am now am too flustered to listen carefully when you explain, if I did reach you', he guffawed down the line, and gave me another appointment.
What a darling. Erastus CPA. Moving next week to a more central location!
I'm thinking GPS wouldn't even help under these circumstances. What an adventure you had!
ReplyDeletebetty
Thanks Betty. Well yes, can't help thinking GPS would be a good start
ReplyDeleteBest wishes, ThresholdMum