Every profession has its fair share of greenhorns, that category of fellows who remind you rather harshly that you can remove a man from the bush but not the bush from the man.
The greenhorns will present themselves in various forms, from their amusingly comical sense of fashion, to some gastronomic preference, or rather, lack of it. In matters of apparel, you can spot him from a mile away, as his outfit stands out like a neon light, with colours mismatched and looking for all the world like he belongs to an acrobatic troupe.
Others succeed quite well in looking like they just landed a job in a circus. You have seen the fellow who dons a shirt with collars that remind you of elephant ears, then proceeds to do a tie that has loud patterns, or even cartoon characters such as the Simpsons, or Donald Duck.
Why anyone expects to be taken seriously dressed to his workplace like he heads a Zangalewa troupe is beyond me. During my early years as a reporter, I had the unfortunate experience of having a few of such guys as colleagues, and it took quite some time to coach them how to dress and behave, especially during formal occasions such as cocktails, receptions, dinners and luncheons.
Nakuru journalists were frequent visitors to the Lake Nakuru Lodge, a prestigious, tourist-style facility that hosts guests from all over the world. During one such occasion, the mouthwatering meals would be a buffet affair, with dazzling displays of fruits, salads, creams, jellies, soups and actual solid foods, such as chicken, beef, mutton, fish fillet and lamb chops.
As journalists joined the queue for food, a reporter who had recently been transferred from a rural outpost to Nakuru, then a bubbling metropolis, was seen bringing to the table a big, yellow, succulent orange that had been placed on the buffet table for display.
It did not occur to him that no one else had done this, so, he sat and made himself comfortable but just as he looked for a knife to slice the fruit, colleague Raphael Munge thought this joke was being taken too far. He told him (informed is more like it!) that the orange was for display and that what was meant for eating was already sliced and on the fruits table.
Other journalists breathed a sigh of relief as the young man, smarting from this embarrassing moment, returned the orange to the fruits table, as waiters looked curiously at him and smiled at each other. I would have wanted to hear what they said to each other but remained with them.
On another occasion, we accompanied a former Agriculture minister, Maina Wanjigi to the headquarters of the Pyrethrum Board of Kenya for a tour. After covering the event, we were all invited for a sumptuous lunch. A television cameraman was not amused when he saw what was indicated on the menu: Rosemary potatoes and chicken in a basket.
To this day, I am not sure whether what followed was the result of a knack for drama or pure innocence. The guy called a waiter and asked why we were eating potatoes named after a woman. He also asked why the chicken was served in a basket and whether the caterers had run out of plates!
Of course, the waiters explained patiently, as only waiters can do, and our mutual friend proceeded to enjoy the meal with relish. As he was doing this, the driver of the agency that the cameraman worked for had made himself a laughing stock, filling his plate to overflowing!
It did not help matters that he also covered his array of meats (he unknowingly mixed red and white meat, oblivious of the fact that you opt for either) with jelly and creams!
He was a spectacle to watch as he sat down to eat, not knowing whether to start with the sugary stuff on top or the pieces of beef and mutton jutting from all the soggy mixture. But eventually, we all pass through our greenhorn moments and learn, even if we do this by just observing what the connoisseurs do with their stuff. But the hilarity! It forms memories...
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