Spent last Saturday hanging out at a rally for former Kenyan Prime Minister "Baba" Raila Odinga to celebrate his return back to Kenya after almost three months on sabbatical overseas.
The event was crafted as a celebratory affair, something to commemorate the return of Odinga, but in action was more taken as an opportunity to rail against the current administration.
While that's not surprising, what I wasn't expecting was the degree of anger seething beneath the surface and how quick it was to surface.
Kenya's new to me. I probably don't understand tons of the politics, the dynamics between tribes, or grasp the level of distrust that web has entrenched over generations.
The fact that mismanagement and vote rigging allegations in the country's 2007 elections resulted in the deaths of some 1,300+ people always seemed a bit surreal.
So it was new to stand amid the mercurial crowd on Saturday and watch as multiple fights exploded, seemingly over nothing. To walk around and photograph as people manically swung between cheers of joy - the return of their Baba, their man, their father Odinga - and then descend into apoplectic fits over Uhuru, the current president, "the devil". Yelling and screaming and cheering and screaming. The joy, the rage, the pride, the resentment. And swirling and swirling as people swayed, kinetically like some giant wave across the field.
I guess I just wasn't expecting it.