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We have our old phone numbers. And we are moving back to Austin. I hope to see all of you soon.

So I had to put together a new set and, just as importantly, find a new style. For example, I wrote a joke about how a Kenyan peddler tried to sell me a wooden, carved elephant for 10,000 shillings (USD 120). The punch line was American and along the lines of… “If that’s how much a wooden elephant is worth, then poachers are targeting the wrong elephants.” I thought it was okay, but not surprisingly, it didn’t land and the jokes I liked the least were the ones that worked the best.

I learned of Churchill (and his show Churchill Live) before I came to Kenya. When I got to Kenya, I realized what a huge show it was. Everyone in my office watches it and thinks it’s hilarious. He’s a megastar here and the comics he features on his show are recognizable because of the show. The audience for the show is 10,000,000 strong. Somewhere around 5,000,000 in Kenya and 5,000,000 in surrounding countries and around the world for Diaspora. It really is the Kenyan version of the Tonight Show – but the Johnny Carson version before late-night viewership was splintered.

The audition process is much different. The show has open auditions in Nairobi. Any given Monday about 60 comics show up and about 8 are chosen to perform for the audience. From there, 2 comics will get airtime. From what I understand, it’s generally the same comics that make air, with an occasional new face thrown in.

The audition went well and the producers laughed sincerely… I think. They gave me the go-ahead to perform for the live audience. If I had to guess I’d say the set was pretty funny (although I still have no idea) and the fact that I was white added novelty that made it more interesting than it would have been.  My skin color put me in the “diverse comic” category.

On the day of filming, I had to show up at 2PM for pre-show business. We worked on my set, tweaking it and clarifying it, but largely it would remain the same. I had plenty of time to practice…

In Nairobi, most venues are open air – the weather is awesome and there’s no A/C.  So, to keep everyone comfortable there’s generally a roof only, tent-like structure for concerts, etc.  But I did not get on stage until close to 10. The weather was nice, but not that nice. By the time I got on stage, my hair and face were sweaty and greasy and I was largely uncomfortable. I really hope I didn’t complain because…

While I was waiting backstage, I hung out a bit with the musical guest, Emmanuel Jal. Jal is from [now I should say, the newly-free] South Sudan. He was a child soldier, having fought in two civil wars by the time he was 13. You can find more about him through his music and TED talk, but it is an intense, intense life he’s led. They did not do him justice in his introduction because they focused solely on the fact that he just completed a music video featuring Alicia Keys (it also has Jimmie Carter, George Clooney, Kofi Annan and others) and neglected to adequately explain his movement, history or his performance at Nelson Mandela’s 90th birthday. He gave a griping performance that I pretty much think comes from being so fully alive (“I got a reason to be on this Earth / because I know more than most what a life is worth”).

Afterwards though, he was self-conscious about his performance, which kind of baffled me – not only because it was awesome, but because of the life he’s lived and what he’s accomplished – like, who cares about one show?  But another lesson learned – artists, no matter what trauma they’ve escaped, still want people to appreciate their art.  Especially Jal because his music is his message and hope.  I didn’t know then what I know about him now.  When I found out more, I just kind of panicked in the way you panic when you realize you just met someone that’s so awesome: “I hope I didn’t say something that made me look like I thought I was cool. And I hope I didn’t complain about anything.”

The show was about 5 hours long (even though only about 45 minutes go to air). After 8 comics, a film crew and cast, a member of parliament, 2 musical guests, 7 house band numbers, in-house videos, and jokes and crowd interviews from the host, I stepped on stage. I actually came immediately after the member of parliament sang Elvis’ “Can’t Help Falling in Love” upwards of 3 times. In America, coming on stage after those 4 hours would really hurt your chances of success, but the crowd was completely alert and ready for whatever.

I wasn’t nervous at all. Nerves come from worrying about possible outcomes. I had no idea what to expect. And I didn’t have thoughts of, “I hope this gets the laugh it should” because I had no definitive knowledge of what exactly would be funny. Plus, bombing would create it’s own story – so much so that I wasn’t sure if I wanted to succeed or not.  I had already written the joke: “I’m the only comedian to bomb big in America and Kenya.  I guess that makes me the Al Qaeda of comedy.”

If you judge the set based on the content, then you’ll likely find it lame.  It’s the spectacle that’s interesting.  And, quite honestly, despite the fact that I don’t personally think it’s funny, it’s probably the set I’m most proud of.   I enjoy thinking about how crazy it is that it happened at all.  Here in Africa, I got to be a part of some awesome things in way I did not anticipate.  Most of the things had to do with seeing innocent men walk out of prison.  But performing a weird, part-Swahili comedy set for 10,000,00 Africans is on the list, too.   In any event, here’s the tape:

After this, there was another comedian, more music and then, of course, a party. The set actually aired on television. I asked another comedian if I should prepare to be recognized on the streets. And he assured me that I didn’t need to worry because “All while people look alike.” And he was right, out of the 1,000,000 or more Nairobians that saw the show, only the waitresses at the restaurant I go to for lunch recognized me.

A bit more about the podcast. Each episode is about 25 minutes long and generally involves a light-hearted discussion about reasons Kenya is bothering me or America is bothering Doug. Mostly, those conversations are just meant to highlight the differences in our current environments. Faith comes up, but isn’t a centerpiece of the discussion. And the podcast, right now, has a humorous slant, but we don’t necessarily try to pump it full of comedy. Truthfully, we are still finding our way and the Skype recording adds a layer of difficulty, but if you are interested in an honest, humorous discussion about travel, faith and family from a Christian perspective, you might find it interesting.

In this episode, Doug talks about how he thinks America makes him weak, particularly with regard to his fear of germs. And I counter with how Kenya has made me weak, particularly with regard to how the germs here have made me really sick, often. If you want, you can read more about one of my experiences with the hospital.

In any event, Episode 5 can be found here: Where I’m Not. I hope you will take the time to listen, subscribe, and rate the podcast on iTunes. Or, you can listen without iTunes, by clicking on the photo below.

Trying to perform in a country where no one has heard of my favorite comedians has made me appreciate how much our comedy history informs our comedy now. It’s hardly worth saying, really – but I’ve noticed it anew and more dramatically. It’s not that you get your style from other comedians – you get your entire notion of comedy. Comedy in America followed such a different trajectory than comedy in Kenya that the gulf between the two seems really wide now.

Standup is a new art form here; Kenyans are just now breaking ground in late night comedy shows; and their comedy (generally speaking) is more slapstick and blatant than ours. But it would oversimplify the matter greatly to say that comedy here is more primitive. I want to get that out of the way. And It’s worth noting that it’s not that I get Kenyan jokes and don’t like them (like primitive humor) – I just don’t get most of them at all.

And that signals to me that comedy is something much more malleable and entrenched than I can really understand. Maybe a culture’s sense of humor is similar to its sense of style. Designing clothes involves art and innovation – but it is also grounded in cultural practicalities. Someone on the equator might think the Mongolian fur wardrobe makes no sense: not until they understand the weather in Mongolia do they “get” it. It’s the same with comedy – except, its driving forces are not as tangible and easily noticeable as the weather. It’s a complicated and mysterious cocktail that directs a culture’s humor – it is wars, legends, religions, plagues, history and landmarks. It’s an endless number of things. It all started thousands of years ago. It constantly evolves.

Of course, one thing that pushes it along is other cultures, especially Western ones. But the process is not quick and easy… and, in those places most steeped in tradition, the influence is unnoticeable. Even in modernized parts of the Kenya, the influence has its limits. If I put on a show here and advertise it as an American show, the Kenyans who came would probably enjoy it. But success becomes much more difficult in a comedy club full of unsuspecting Kenyans. Because people often go to comedy shows specifically to relate to their culture and revel in it.

The same dynamic happens in America on a smaller scale. When I opened for Freddy Soto, the crowds were largely Hispanic and they gave me a great response. However – I was once booked for Latino Comedy Night in San Antonio (without being told it was a theme), and it still goes down as the absolute worst gig I’ve ever had. Culture dictates comedy and then, in return, comedy helps us identify with our culture. Food (I’ve really come to realize) also helps us connect to our culture. And if I showed up to an American style restaurant here that served Kenyan food, I’d be very disappointed and totally uninterested – especially when I am looking for something familiar. I’m also constantly disappointed in American food here – it may technically be a hamburger, but it’s done in Kenyan style. Similarly, I came to realize I couldn’t just joke about Kenyan things, I had to joke about them in a Kenyan way.

And that was one of the most interesting and intellectually challenging things I have done in a long time. Sometimes I wrote jokes with only a vague notion that they were funny – and certainly they were not funny to me. It was more like pattern recognition than joke writing. But one of the most rewarding things about succeeding (and I believe I did) was that just as much as my “American” jokes clearly made me an outsider – my ability to tell Kenyan jokes (with a heavy American flare, albeit) earned me some acceptance. And so there is at least one principal of comedy that transcends cultural boundaries and its precisely what makes cross-cultural humor so difficult: a comic has to relate to the audience.

Next time, I’ll share with you the end result of my efforts. But for now (and to make this slightly less self-important), I’ll provide a different example of a joke bombing due to cultural barriers.

I almost didn’t post this episode because my segment does not put me in good light. It’s a hard balance — understanding that so many people around you have dire needs, but also growing tired of being seen as a quick fix. I’m not sure if I have found the right balance on that.  I have strong feelings about the way I am sometimes viewed as a white person in Kenya, but I’m really not able to describe them.

Doug just talks about wanting to wrestle a coyote.

In any event, Episode 4 can be found here: Where I’m Not. I hope you will take the time to listen, subscribe, and rate the podcast on iTunes. Or, you can listen without iTunes, by clicking on the photo below.