One of those is being able to be less attentive and cautious when leaving the house every day in terms of protecting your possessions. Last week, Mama Cynthia, a woman who runs one of the shops within our compound was in town when a man stopped to ask to use her phone. He explained that he was unable to contact his family up country for a while and really needed to speak with them. Being a kind human being, and a decent person she handed over the phone. As he started to dial he began backing away and eventually broke out into a sprint away from her. Screaming after the thief, several bystanders began chasing him. Later he was found beaten to death by police. Volunteers at the house in Mlolongo had an awful experience of seeing a man accused of stealing have gas poured on him and lit on fire. A couple days ago waiting for a matatu a man would not leave me alone. He insisted he take the matatu with me, squeezing beside me and forcing a little boy to move so he could grab the seat beside me. As we were driving he kept on reaching over me asking several times to open or close the window. Knowing what he was up to I turned quickly to find his hand in my bag. I grabbed his wrist and forcefully removed it from my bag, saying “shame on you” under my breath. I wouldn’t dare scream out theif, not knowing the consequences.
Getting around and being mobile during evening hours will seem much more relaxed too. One day here when I had first arrived, after having been stuck in traffic for over three hours trying to get into Nairobi, I was dropped in a part of the city I was not familiar with. Pouring rain, I just decided to sit and wait, since when it rains it pours, and getting around at night especially is difficult then. A man approached me asking to help me get to where I was going. I have always been amazed at the kindness of some Kenyans, who ask for nothing in return. The man, who I came to know as Steven, spent at least twenty minutes in the pouring rain approaching taxi’s, not only looking for someone to carry me to my destination, but hounding everyone to get the best price. He told me to stay dry and that he would come get me when he found one. Eventually he found a taxi for a very reasonable price and once in the car, before he would let the taxi leave, he had the driver write down his license number, full name, and they exchanged numbers. As I said thank you he leaned over and told me to call him when I had arrived safely and if I didn’t he would have all the taxi drivers’ information just in case something happened to me. And I had just met this man twenty minutes ago.
It will also feel strange being able to go out in the evening freely and without worry. I will get to walk around my neighbourhood without having to sign into the gate when arriving. In my old estate in Mlolongo, armed men wandered the street even during the day time. There was no loitering on street corners at night in Valley View. The compound I live in now, it is a bit more relaxed. It is almost humorous; however, a couple of men with bow and arrows walk around at night. Beck and I would always joke if we couldn’t see them when entering during evening hours that they were off “hunting”. There are even certain roads and common routes in Nairobi that you should never take past sun down unless you want to risk your life. The “overpass” is considered the most dangerous. Drive there past sundown, you are guaranteed to be robbed at gunpoint and it’s very likely your life will end. Traffic lights, traffic stops without police bribes, and having rules of the road enforced will take some time to adjust to. None of this scares me anymore though. I have become quite the confident young woman. I would never put myself in danger in any sort of way, but I have definitely developed more of a voice. To live among Kenyans as a white person and if you are willing to really be a part of everyday life in Nairobi you need to have that kind of confidence. Most of this past month I have been the only white person among everyone I associate with and with Beck gone, I am the only mzungu among my Kenyan family, circle of friends, and boyfriend. And that’s fine by me. I am sad to leave, but I know I will return soon enough. How could I not? I paid Jarvin, the boy my family is sending to school one last visit in Kibera last week. After only one month, he is 9th out of 24 children in his class. He proudly presented his portfolio of school work to me and began addressing me in English, after hardly being able to mutter a word of it before. Kenya is now home to me, a second home of course, but I will always return. Just yesterday while having breakfast near Kawangware, a slum here in Nairobi, I realized how much I will miss this place for the short time I will be forced to be away from it. While having chai and mandazi, surrounded by beautiful playful children, the gorgeous colors of the many fruit stands, and immaculate women carrying their children in colourful laisos, I realized, that it is the simplicity of Africa, the everyday way of life, and most of all the people, is what I’ll be missing most.
Meloy as I was packing thought he would be helpful by taking the clothes already packed in my suitcase and modeling them for everyone. Will miss him!
Last visit to the house in Kibera. Jannes with his sister, and Jarvin.
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