"How much?" I asked.
Zoe two weeks old
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Nairobi Struck my
senses like a bugle call, arresting and vibrant but incomprehensible.
The great tree-lined avenues; the agglomeration of stores, hotels,
mosques and garages; the mixture of ancient and modern; the flow of
varied races, costumes, and languages; tough English ladies in khaki
shorts, African women with shaven skulls; all seemed bewildering and
enchanting. I noticed particularly the sellers of flowers. At every
street corner a boy stood waist-deep in color and fragrance. As it
happened, my car was stopped by a traffic block within a few feet of a
huge bunch of carnations proffered by a sturdy black hand. The flowers
were perfect, some frilled, some plain, in every brilliant and subtle
shade, and without the split calyxes so common in Europe. "How much?" I asked. Zoe two weeks old
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