Visiting Kenya

January 15, 2006
I’m in Kenya now, or as Ms. Jones likes to call it, “the motherland.” Not that Egypt isn’t technically on the African continent (the African Cup soccer tournament is Egypt this year), but it certainly doesn’t feel like it. Many Egyptians don’t even really think their country is in Africa. I think it’s a racial distinction. There’s an Arab superiority complex. So, for example, the majority of Muslims worldwide is not in the Middle East and is not Arab, but Arab Muslims in general do not regard other Muslims in the same fashion that they do of themselves. This, of course, is entirely contradictory to the Islamic notion of the intrinsic equality of all Muslims. Regardless, the race complex runs deep into Arab culture. For example, Sudan, the country directly south of Egypt, comes from the Arabic word for “black.” So “Sudan” translates to the “land of black people.” There was a time when the entire subcontinent, or rather any part with predominantly dark-skinned people was referred to as sudan and Egypt helped the British rule the land to its south.
Anyway, Karen visited me from Kenya last week. She went through some kind of reverse culture shock, where she was surprised at and unaccustomed to not seeing black people. Of course there are black people in Cairo, and most of the people are brown-skinned, but there’s a definite difference between Arab and African cultures.
However, I didn’t go through the same type of shock in Kenya. It’s not exactly how I expected it. I assumed it would not be built up at all and that it would be really crowded. It’s neither. First of all, it’s absolutely beautiful. Trees and foliage dominate the landscape, whether driving through the suburban-like neighborhoods of Nairobi or the wide expanses of the country.
But also, globalization has somewhat taken hold of the more populated areas of Nairobi. Thankfully there are no McDonald’s, but I saw lots of ex-pats (westerners, mostly) hanging out at nice coffee shops and sterile shopping malls. Apparently there really isn’t much else to do for the mazungu (white people). And it’s not safe to walk the streets at night. You have to stay in your car, which is pretty dangerous in itself because there are no street lights. It’s very strange; you don’t realize how important overhead lights are until you are without them. You can only see about 15 feet ahead except for the high beams from incoming traffic.
But you’re also constantly reminded of how dangerous it is at night because all of the buildings have gates and guards. All of the structures in the residential neighborhoods (excluding the most impoverished) have large rock walls with barbed wire surrounding them. Apparently there are bandits that roam the streets at night. I didn’t see them, but I did see lots of guys selling crap you don’t want weaving through the cars stuck in traffic. Some of them are dangerous and will rob you, as per the example of Karen getting scratched in the face as some guy grabbed her cell phone out of hand while she was having a conversation. Karen was therefore a bit nervous when we were in traffic and would raise the windows and lock the doors every time we slowed down.
It’s strange because it didn’t feel unsafe, and the people definitely are not hostile, but you need constant security. In many ways it’s confining, because spontaneity isn’t exactly possible since you have to coordinate everything. The city is also spread out, so you have to take cars everywhere. Taxis are pretty expensive too. Despite this, I could live there. It’s beautiful, the people are beautiful, and the lifestyle is very laid-back. It lacks the certain urgency that is so annoying about the states. The weather is also very nice. It’s hot, but not humid, so it’s bearable. And when it rains, it’s amazing…there’s so many trees and plants, so during rainfall the air smells lovely.
So that’s my observations. I’ll post some more about what I did while I was there.