I sit at a table on the patio at Simmers. It is a Friday evening and the place is becoming packed with the after work crowd. The host places two South Africans and two Kenyans at my table because there is no seating anywhere else. They are on contract with a building firm to renovate the smoking section in the Nairobi airport. The white South African is a big talker and unfiltered. You get the sense that he is one of those who carries all the colorful prejudices in the world but directs none of them at anyone personally.
'With some, they won't without a condom,’ he explains. ‘They won’t have one. So if you don't have one, then you won't get a fuck. But, of course, but you will have to pay anyway.'
He reaches into a bulging pocket withdraws a stack of condoms from his jeans. He smiles and slaps a strip of three down emphatically on the table in front of me.
'Here,' he says. 'So that it doesn't happen to you.'