Early in October 2002, accompanied by two men and a woman, and donning a self-effacing black pants and red rubber sandals, white vest and a scarf, Angelina Jolie ambled into the City Market in Nairobi. You could hardly tell who she was. Not even the burly blond bodyguard, close by her side, gave her away. They appeared like colleagues engaged in conversation. Another gentleman and lady followed closely behind.
I had watched Tomb Raider but I still did not realise who she was when she came to Shop 11 on the balcony where I worked. Her easy disposition and kindness concealed her celebrity status totally. Yet, my gut feeling told that this was someone prominent I had seen or read about somewhere.
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