Say what you need to say, and don't be on time

One thing I have always found so interesting about Kenyans is their honesty. Kenyans almost always say it as it is. They speak the truth and are not afraid to tell you what they think about something, no matter what it is. I have learnt to develop a tough skin here to take some comments that I would almost always used to think of as very rude. When I went home everyone seemed so nice.

I have been emailing back and forth with my friend who just returned home after a year here in Africa. It’s not just the food, luxuries, and Canadian lifestyle she has been struggling to become reacquainted with, but surprisingly it’s been how she has had to adjust how she interacts with her friends. Brutal honesty and unguarded opinions are not so welcomed at home as they are here. Canadian culture seems much more relaxed to her now, after living in a society where she has witnessed public exorcisms every now and then and has been encouraged to believe in witchcraft. When our kitten Sami, who happens to be a black in colour, got sick, our house mama Salima refused to take it on the matatu to a vet. She truly believed other Kenyans would believe her to be practicing witchcraft. I don’t blame her.

 Some things about Kenyan culture I have grown to be acquainted with… like how not to rest your head in the palm of your hand in public since that means you are inviting death to someone you love. I have gotten in trouble for that several times with my Kenyan friends.  Or how during meal times, if you are in the presence of Kenyans, you are probably guaranteed to be denied most conversation. My house sister Beauty once commented to me during meal time with other volunteers in Mlolongo: “I don’t get you white children, all you do is talk talk talk while eating, and you are supposed to focus”.

Daily activities and the general lifestyle in Kenya also happens to move a lot slower. I have had to adjust to running on Kenyan time. My punctual self took a while to understand that if they say a meeting is at 12 noon sharp, you probably shouldn’t arrive till one, but even then you might be early. Most of everything here happens at much slower pace. “Twende pole, pole”, (let’s go slowly), is a phrase commonly used here. If you are late to meet a friend in town, (well, you can never really be “late”), you will have a hard time not growing frustrated attempting to shuffle through the crowds of people moving at a snail’s pace in downtown Nairobi streets. However, nothing really about this completely different culture dismays me. I have become accustomed to and have grown to love the brutal honesty of Kenyans and slower pace of life here. “Twende pole, pole.”