I waited for at least 90 minutes behind a very large Chinese family that did not have proper documentation. I was in new territory, and worried my arrival pickup would leave without me, though there was very little I could do other than sweat and fan myself with my passport and customs card.
When it was finally my turn to face the very tired and annoyed official I greeted him and asked about his day, in the hopes that an ounce of courtesy would make any flaws in my paperwork vanish. He was beautifully friendly until it came time to pay.
I handed him the 50 note that Mandy had been so gracious to let me borrow, and he handed it back to me, unflinching while my heart palpitated in my throat. If he rejected my USD I wasn't getting into Kenya. I didn't panic. I considered a bribe. At the last moment the British couple behind me offered a new 10 and two crisp 20s just to avoid waiting in line any longer. I squeaked into the country, thanking them and running past baggage claim into East Africa.
Because NBO had recently lost much of their terminal to the fire, the exit was a nondescript traffic island. There were no cabs or people with signs waiting to pick up tourists as you would expect. Luckily for me, I walked around the corner to a parking lot and ran right into the hustle and bustle I was looking for. Signs, shouts, whistles, cab drivers hawking the drive into Nairobi. Ah, familiar chaos.
I found my driver and met up with an extraordinarily tall Australian who was also waiting for a pickup, and we talked as our driver and his friend drove us into the capital, battling rush hour traffic in the most African way. After an hour or so, he pulled up in front of a hotel and informed us this is where we ought to check in. I glanced at my itinerary. Then back at the hotel. The names didn't match.
I worried for another moment that perhaps I had gotten in the wrong car with the wrong people. Not wanting to make a scene, I apologized profusely as I let them know it wasn't my hotel. Mine started with a j. Jacaranda. I had remembered the oddity of the name.
The next 2 hours we spent fighting rush hour traffic the opposite direction and I had a private tour of many of the backstreet neighborhoods of Nairobi.
My first thoughts were of the dust. It was inescapable fine red powder that had coated everything. Everything. It gave the appearance of old paint and dilapidation even in areas where there was new construction.
Nairobi feels like one of the capitals of South East Asia, construction on every building of every block, big trenches dug for massive foundations, rebar and concrete blocks piling up alongside the narrow streets, and money from Chinese investors driving all of it. In school we had learned about the impact of China's new interest in farming the wealth from the dark continent but it never ceased to surprise me just how obvious and omnipresent their influence is.
Every hotel, camp, game lodge and tourist center catered to Asian tourists. Signs in mandarin and lo mien at dinner? If it weren't for the lions you might just forget you're in Africa all together.
I became less and less aware of the dust as the days wore on, and, I too, became covered in the fine, red powder. Kenya is like that, it grows on you, clings to you, becomes part of you. It's hard not to absorb the incredible hospitality and infectious good nature of Kenyans; they'll teach you lessons on how to live happily with what you have, to enjoy the company of those around you. They'll remind you to laugh freely, and often. This joviality will stick to you, much like the dust, and all of a sudden they've shown you how to simply be happy because the sun has risen.
To live like this is the envy of every man in the western world. Often, however, they don't know it. Many balk at the idea of living in poverty on a dollar a day or sleeping in mud huts, dealing with flies and meals cooked over open flames.
To describe life in Africa as just that is a lie, though one that has been told for centuries. No one relays the humor, kindness and openness that, to me, has defined my time on the continent. No one mentions how Africans live with their eyes wide, seeing the people around them and reaching for them. The western world teaches you to protect yourself from those around you. To isolate.
Yes, many communities on the continent face the repercussions of poverty when it comes to disease. Modern medicine will keep you safe from malaria, sleeping sickness and many of the viruses, bacteria and other parasites that I've spent my college years pouring over. Though, when I spoke to our guide about the prevalence of disease in Maasai communities she adamantly stated they are very rarely sick, even less often hospitalized.
This is a trend observed in many areas where disease is rampant, and often, because we don't understand the ways in which they fight infection, we tend to discredit it. However, it's hard to imagine the average Maasai, who's people kill a lion with just a spear and short shield as their introduction to manhood, succumbing to the bite of a mosquito.
Because the British obliterated the barter system in Kenya and introduced currency while forcing residents to work for pennies on their land (that they simply stole), many farmers, who were once equals among their countrymen, became peasants.
Tradition in east Africa (and many places on the continent) dictates that any visitor is a blessing, and what you provide to them during their travels or time of need will be returned to you twice over in time. In this spirit, they opened their arms, their homes, their country, wide to the British, white men with no custom of respect or equality. No, instead a history of exploitation and subjugation. Just as many other places, Kenya fell under British colonial rule. Same story as before: rape, rinse, repeat.
They regained their independence in 1965, and since then have capitalized in their ties to their former colonizer, the money from tourism and the ease of Westerners traveling where English is widely spoken helping to ameliorate the bitterness of the colonial era. Kenyans are a proud people, and they remain tied to their great grasslands and mountainous countryside. Their wildlife is unique among the world, and their dedication to protecting it is apparent, as well as admirable. South Africa could perhaps take a lesson from their very strict laws prohibiting any kind of hunting, and their no tolerance policy for guns in national parks. When I explained the phenomenon of "canned lions" (lions kept in cages that are released for a specific hunter to shoot) that has become common in Southern Africa, the Kenyans I was talking to were beyond horrified. It was nice to see their commitment wasn't just to the money that this wildlife generated, but to the welfare of the animals as well.
This attitude is reflected in the health of their national parks. Biodiversity abounds. The sheer numbers of game is staggering, and in lake Nakuru they even have a problem with over population of buffalo - though there is no cull or action planned to decrease their number, the philosophy being to let nature sort herself out (as she should). Lake Nakuru also boasts relatively large numbers of black rhinoceros, and just as in many other areas, Kenya works tirelessly to deter poaching, which is a crippling problem over the whole continent. The government and private reserves have undertaken a large initiative to sedate rhinos and poison the horn, a fantastic way to keep poachers from collecting it, as it would prove fatal to any Chinese medicine practitioner who used it. Will this be the way of the future? I hope so.
More to come soon, currently a big rain storm in Cape Town is keeping me off the Internet! Up next: Kenyan wives beating their husbands and matriarchal hyenas who rule the Savannah!
No comments:
Post a Comment