Throughout our stay in Kenya, I was thinking of what to do in the extra day I had before returning home (after separating from the rest of the group since they were all returning earlier). I had seen a lot of rural Kenya and was really curious about downtown Nairobi. However, every time I commented the idea to Kinnari, I got a discouraging response. It usually started with her expressive eyes opening wide, basically saying: "Are you sure you want to do that?". But then this would be followed with advice on how to stay safe. I also asked a few other locals, and even though their responses didn't show the same level of concern, they didn't encourage it either. So of course, I grew more and more curious...
The day had arrived. I went down to the hotel lobby to get some last minute advice from the clerk at the front desk. Her response was perhaps the funniest of all. In her cute Kenyan accent, with some concern in her voice: "Walk straight, just keep going and don't stop, don't talk to anyone (except for police officers and security guards), walk like you know where you are going, don't wander, if you feel like you are starting to get lost, go back the way you came; when crossing the street... go, don't be afraid, be brave... if you are slow, people will know you are not from here". In the morning I was thinking of just staying in, but after her advice I got even more curious and excited. I thought: "C'mon, I was trained on the streets of Honduras (where there are no rules and drivers don't respect pedestrians); besides, I'm a six-foot Hispanic guy with a beard and hairy arms, it doesn't matter how I walk or cross the street, they'll know I'm not from around here, HAHA!". And so I took off... Want to know what was going on in downtown Nairobi on Wednesday October 28th, around noon?
I was about two miles away from the downtown area and I started walking down Ngong Rd, which leads to Uhuru Park (separated from downtown by Uhuru highway). I first passed by the Ministry of Mining, then by the Ministry of Health. People were out and about and there was a bit of traffic (mostly Matatus, kicking up some dust and leaving their usual trail of smoke). There were also some street vendors on the sidewalk, some selling fruits and vegetables and others offering a shoe shine. Most people were dressed in either formal or business casual attire. Some of the younger men and women favored a more modern look with more fitted clothing. However, some women donned a more traditional look, with full dresses, some simple and elegant while others more colorful (with traditional colors and patterns). Interestingly, I also noticed some women wearing a chador (the traditional garment worn by Muslim or Hindu women that covers their face and body). Finally, I also encountered a few school kids wearing their school uniforms.
As I was getting closer to Uhuru Park, I passed by a bus stop. Multiple Matatus were lined up, almost starting to go, with the driver's copilot at the doorstep calling out to people, trying to get the last couple of passengers before departing. One of them even called out to me, but I waved him off and kept walking. Entering Uhuru Park there were many different vendors on the side of the pathway, most of them selling clothes. Once inside the park, most vendors were selling food. The menu: hard-boiled eggs, sausages, candy and sodas. The park itself had some nice attractions: a lake with small pedal boats people could ride and a few typical carnival rides. The park was busy, mostly with people walking by, but some people were taking the time to relax by resting on the grass. I finished crossing the park, reached Uhuru highway, with traffic at a complete standstill, which made it really easy to cross all four lanes without even having to look both ways.
The downtown area was pretty busy as well, with fewer cars and more pedestrian traffic. I noticed quite a few tall buildings, some commercial and some government buildings. Among them, the Kenyatta International Conference Center stood out with its cylindrical shape and Samsung banner at the top. The entrance was gated and heavily guarded, while the building itself was at least two or three city blocks away from the entrance. Photographers were standing near the entrance, offering tourists an opportunity to take a picture with the building in the background. Among the local businesses, I could find quite a few local restaurants, computer shops, a Nakumatt and other small supermarkets, souvenir shops, a barber shop, and clothing and cosmetics shops. Once I reached what seemed like a central point, which included a bus stop and a few street vendors, I decided to stop for a bit. At the bus stop there was a preacher with a bible in his hand, preaching passionately to the people that were waiting for the next bus or Matatu. He seemed to be trying quite hard to engage the crowd, to the point some people nodded along with a smile, perhaps to appease him a bit.
I noticed the time was 12:47pm, so I decided to look for a place to sit down and eat. As I was looking, even though I was walking fast and with the crowd, all of a sudden a man appeared right next to me: "Excuse, where from?", he asked in his Kenyan accent. He was well-dressed and had a folder in his hand, however, for some reason I knew he was not coming from or going to work. To not be rude, I answered I was from Honduras and answered briefly to a few of his follow-up questions without encouraging conversation, while still walking, seeming like I was late for something. It was all fine until he said: "I am doing work about Honduras, so I want to ask few questions about Honduras", while stopping and hinting to walk with him. That's when I thought: "Ha! Don't think so...". But I politely declined and told him I was late for an appointment. Shortly after I found the Java House, which seemed perfect for a quick bite and a refreshment.
The Java House was pretty small and packed with business men and women, formally dressed, most likely having lunch before returning to work. It was also pretty boisterous and lively, with active conversations at most tables. Fortunately, I didn't have to wait very long to be seated. Judging by its modern look and the menu (which included a grilled chicken sandwich with tomato basil), it seemed like the Java House was meant for tourists or a more international crowd in general. While having my meal, a young businessman, very formally dressed, approached my table and asked if he could sit down (as it was too full and there were no other tables available): "Want to grab a bite before traffic". So I said: "Sure", while nodding.
Wilfred was his name, a Kenyan banker focused on agriculture (helping farmers get loans, as I understood him). I shared a little bit about the work we did and the towns we visited, and also shared that I was from Honduras. As many Kenyans I've encountered, he asked enthusiastically what I thought about Kenya. I mentioned how much I had enjoyed my stay, the warmth and hospitality of the people, and explained how I had been comparing Kenya to my country, since I found so many similarities, but at the same time various differences which I hadn't quite been able to articulate. He was intrigued and interested in this comparison, to the point we compared notes and he explained that one of Kenya's keys to success has been that they've been able to unify the tribes. He did include the caveat that it hasn't been easy and that tribes still influence politics a bit, but overall I could tell he was passionate about the topic, was proud to be a Kenyan and was happy with the progress being made. I also asked him about Kenya's main economic drivers, and as expected, he mentioned agriculture as one of the main ones. He went on to explain how important agriculture and farming are to the people, both formal and informal (as many people that don't own a farm still own chicken, sheep and/or cows). Finally, after discussing the topic of agriculture and the future of Kenya's economy for a bit, he shared something that I found quite fascinating: once he retires, he plans to go back to his home town in eastern Kenya and go back to farming. Shortly after that I had to leave, but before leaving we exchanged emails and he said: "Karibu tena sana", so that I return soon.
As I was walking back, looking at the people, from the very formally dressed to the more casually dressed, it struck me that everyone was sharing the same broken sidewalks, along the dusty and smokey streets. Then I started reflecting on how most people were wearing some sort of formal attire, with the differences being mostly in the quality of the clothing or fabric. Perhaps the formal wear serves to mark the position people have achieved in life, like the fact of having a job and perhaps the type of job. Then I looked at my dusty tennis shoes, jeans and Ninja Turtles t-shirt, and realized: "People probably wouldn't believe I'm a Software Engineer, hehe".
