Hujambo!

snake-sugar
Living and working in Nairobi, Kenya

No, I don’t want a f*cking taxi

I don’t want to go see the lions in Masai Mara. And while we’re at it, no, you can’t shine my sandals. I’ve said it before and I can’t reiterate it enough, being white in Nairobi is annoying. I don’t know what’s wrong with white people in Kenya, they’re either too rich or too lazy so they zip around in taxis. Well I’m not rich or lazy, so it annoys the hell out of me when I’m walking in Nairobi and taxi drivers relentlessly ask if I need a taxi. I’ve been good lately, but I know enough Swahili to be pretty rude to those guys.

I guess it varies with my mood. For instance, yesterday was Friday so I wore jeans to work and everyone was a bit relaxed. I was meeting my friend in Nairobi for coffee after work, so I was feeling good. I had just been laughing and enjoying the evening when some guy offered me a taxi. I simply told him, “Si endi mbali” ( “I’m not going far” ), and I guess he liked that because he responded, “Poa, asante sana, ndugu. Karibu.” ( “Cool, thanks alot, brother. You’re welcome” ). That’s how it’s supposed to be, and I always feel bad when I diss ‘em.
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White people in Nairobi

It’s one thing to be white living in a rural area, but it’s another thing to be white and live in a rich suburb of Nairobi. I spent the last nearly two years living in Tala, where I was one of the only white people. It wasn’t hard for me to make myself at home, my current roommate was even teasing me the other day because I behave like someone from the shamba ( “farm” ), shopping at the budget stores, eating boiled beans and chapati on the side of the road, speaking Swahili, etc. I guess I spent a lot of time learning to be mwenyeji ( “a local” ); becoming an expert at local trivia, food, language, geography, you name it. Now that I’ve come to Nairobi I realize the black/white dynamics are different than in Tala, mainly because there are more white people here. White people (Kenyan or foreign) don’t interact with the blacks as much, and they tend to zip around in taxis or private cars, go to separate dinner parties, clubs, etc.
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Being White In Tala

Being white in Nairobi is mostly harmless and can be pretty funny, but being white in Tala is annoying. There are a few things that really annoy me about being non-black in Tala. It’s not that Tala is particularly a bad place; I assume you’d have the same experience if you traveled to a rural area in any country. If you stand out like a sore thumb you’re bound to attract attention (good and bad).

First, people feel so sweet when they’re with their buddies (see: Herd Behavior). They’ll say things when they’re in a group that they’d never say if they were alone. I’m used to that by now, so my heart always starts racing when I see a group of teenagers approaching. It seems like they always have to say as they pass, and it’s usually something provocative (otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this). Go live somewhere where you are different and see how it feels to walk the streets day in and day out by yourself.

Second, some people just never get used to me. For example: the girls at Tala Girls high school. The college’s compound is fenced, and I usually enter through a gate near the high school’s perimeter. The girls usually see me leaving my house through that gate and I’m used to the silly things they say (you know high school girls). I am surprised every once in a while, like last weekend some girls shouted, “Mzungu! Mzungu!” Uhh… these girls are in high school. Have they never seen a white person before? I’m not even sure that’s an excuse, because I’ve lived here for close to TWO YEARS.

Depending on my mood, these range from really pissing me off to being just slightly annoying.

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The Crappy Tala-Kangundo Road

The Tala-Kangundo highway from Nairobi is terrible. It seems as if the road is in a constant state of decline. I find myself often commenting to strangers, “Hii bara bara ni mbaya sana” (“this road is very bad”), it’s a great ice breaker. We laugh and speculate about whether someone will tengeneza (“repair”) it any time soon, and then my Swahili vocabulary is just about extinguished. Side note: it’s hard to be funny when using a language which you have only mastered up to the level of the local toddler.

Kangundo highway as it reaches TalaCertain sections of the road are worse than others. One spot in particular, between Kantafu and Koma Hill, is pretty consistently hideous. I was returning to Tala today and noticed a throng of young men with shovels crowding around one of the rough areas just before Koma Hill. As we got closer I saw them start jumping and shouting. I heard the driver yell something about kumi (“ten”) to the conductor, who then stuck his head out the window, presumably to toss the boys a ten shilling coin (ten shillings can buy a cup of tea, and for reference, we pay 100-150 shillings fare from Nairobi to Tala). The driver then commented, “Wamefanya vizuri” (“they’ve done it well”). It’s true, the pot holes had been filled in with sand and rocks and leveled out, making that section much more pleasant, at least for a little while. The pay is far from flattering, but those dudes on the road side are entrepreneurs; they alone are responsible for the few “repairs” I’ve ever seen made to that road in the two years I’ve lived in Tala.

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Lawn Mowing in Kenya

First, there is no such thing as “lawn mowing” in Kenya (gotcha!). Second, unless you’re the the President of Kenya or the US Ambassador (they live in mansions with big lawns), there aren’t even any lawns to speak of. That’s not to say we don’t have grass. My goodness, there is grass for days and days! Forget Southern California, where strip malls and concrete effectively form one huge, 200-mile-long city; This is Kenya, bwana (“man”)! We have plenty of open space and it’s allllll grass (and sand, but that’s for another time)!

A cartoon lawn mowerI had an epiphany the other day while walking home through an empty field. It had rained a bit so there was mud all over the place. I remember thinking it was good the grass was low because it allowed me to avoid the mud. The funny thing is, I’ve never seen one lawn mower in Kenya. I don’t even think the two words “lawn mower” have entered my brain once at the same time in the last two years… The only place I’ve ever seen anyone cutting grass is in my backyard and on the college compound, and they do it by hand.
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