Maria Knodt

It’s the season of Kumbe Kumbe – when it starts raining, the flying termites are coming out of their mound and filling the streets like moths. With their disproportionally large wings, their contact surface for raindrops is too high. I can see them tumbling and finally drowning in the gush of water rushing down the roadsides. My taxi driver explains to me that they are a delicacy in the western part of the country, close to Kisumu, where he is from. People from the Luhya tribe catch and fry them, making a meal rich in protein and sweet in taste.

I haven’t written in a long time – since I moved from Kigali to Nairobi last year in July for a job as Programme Manager Advisory for a British NGO in the energy access sector. Now I am sitting with a few like-minded writers in one of the hip cafés in Nairobi’s Westlands neighborhood and am finally taking it up again.

Frankly speaking, Nairobi was a shock at first. Everyone had warned me that Kigali was an untypical start into Africa – a city so clean, safe, and ordered that it would make for an easy transition from Europe. After moving to Nairobi, I finally understood the extent to which that was true – Nairobi was the real deal, with all its ugliness at first glance. New buildings are sprouting up everywhere, competing against each other for the prime spot in Nairobi’s skyline – a large proportion of which stay unfinished or whose construction process gets delayed indefinitely. Others are being torn down due to violation of regulations or other reasons, with the rubble often remaining for weeks or months. Waste fills the gutters and open spaces; here and there, the air is filled with smoke and the smell of burned plastic as people set small garbage piles on fire due to the lack of organized waste collection. The roads seem caught in an endless cycle of demolition and reconstruction – as if the city is a constantly unfinished project, a colorful patchwork that, while being repaired on one end, comes apart on the other. Many pothole-filled streets are so congested during rush hour that a twenty-minute ride can take two hours; hawkers target those stuck in traffic by selling everything from snacks to clothing to housewares on the roadside. The congestion is mainly a sign of the population density and increasing middle class being able to afford to buy cars, combined with oversight in accounting for this in urban planning. Not only Toyotas can be seen on the streets, as was mainly the case in Kigali, but various brands including BMWs and Porsches. Those who made it, show it.

Still, most Kenyans use the ubiquitous Matatus to get around the city – outdated public transport minibusses often dented all over, puffing their black gases onto the sidewalks. A conductor is hanging and shouting from the constantly open door, trying to shovel more people into every conceivable space. Painted with colorful artwork depicting musicians, football players, women, or religious themes, they form an integral part of Kenya’s pop culture. The Afrobeats music that often blares from their top-notch music systems reminds more of a club than a means of public transport. At least their appearance and noise make them hard to oversee – giving me a chance to jump away just in time before one of the drivers speeds past me over the sidewalk to escape the stalling traffic. When trying to cross a street, cars would generally slow down, but never expect the same from a Matatu – they are on an uncompromising mission to bring their customers as quickly as possible across the city, knowing well that this will require recklessness and creativity. The difficulty of figuring out which Matatu is driving where and the high chances of getting robbed are preventing me from taking them regularly.

The other option to get around Nairobi is via taxis or so-called Boda Bodas, motorbike taxis that “often fail to observe basic safety precautions and ignore traffic rules” (as the U.S. Department of State’s Travel Advice for Kenya puts it). But unlike Rwanda, apps like Uber, Bolt (Taxify), and SafeBoda are available in Kenya, making it easier and safer to get around town. Even though drivers here understand English better than the drivers in Rwanda, getting them to find me and pick me up can be daunting. The first thing I learned was that even if a driver has accepted my request, it does not mean he (it is mainly men doing this job; since I am living here, I had three drivers who were women) will actually start moving towards me. I often have to call and tell him where to go, or sometimes he would call me. Initially, I was often irritated when the driver only said “hello” on the phone and would expect me to pick up the conversation by giving him directions. Other times, the driver would ask where I want to go and, without further notice, hang up and cancel on me because the location was not far enough or not in his desired direction. Other drivers just don’t pick up at all for minutes or don’t start moving for 5-10 minutes after we talked on the phone – often being completely perplexed why I am so much in a hurry when I call the second time. While on the way to my destination, I keep tabs on which route the drivers take as they would often not communicate if they don’t know the way – vigilance often saves me from long detours. I reframe these sometimes frustrating experiences into an exercise to train my patience and perseverance. In these moments, I try to put myself into their shoes to understand what could be the reasons without judging. Maybe they earn so little (sometimes only around KES 1000 or USD 10 per day) that they need to budget their mobile data usage well and hence don’t like to use maps; maybe they don’t trust the accuracy of maps or people setting pins at the correct locations and therefore prefer personal interactions; perhaps some are struggling to read maps.

Traffic rules seem to apply differently to Matatus and Bodas – while the police are very strict with private cars trying to turn around on the street or not respecting a traffic light, it often seems to turn a blind eye to these other vehicles. For Matatus, the SACCOs (Savings and Credit Cooperative Organisations, similar to German saving banks or Sparkassen) that own the Matatus are powerful and often have unofficial agreements with the police. In general, rules can be hard to grasp here. At times, they are laxly enforced. Other times, the officials try to crack down on certain things so harshly that it feels like a pendulum purposefully swung in the opposite direction to find a balance eventually. Recently, police checkpoints started to control whether people use their seat belts in cars and Matatus. Apparently, they are pulling people out to take them to police stations to pay a hefty fine or even spend a night there if they can’t pay immediately. You might be able to prevent going to a police station if you give the police officer a bit of “chai” (the word for tea in Swahili, a colloquial term for paying a bribe). Every now and then, while I walk to work, I see one of the buses with “Kenya Prison Services” written across them driving by, bringing all of those who could not pay to the next prison.

On the other hand, the police often seem to struggle to keep the city safe for its inhabitants. Most Kenyans avoid certain areas in downtown Nairobi during the dark as they would quickly become victims of organized mugging schemes in the streets or on Matatus – not without reason is Nairobi affectionately called Nairobery. As a Mzungu (literally translated from Swahili, it means “someone who roams around” or “wanderer” and is used to refer to people of European descent), walking anywhere at night in Nairobi is not advisable.

Most of this I got used to over time. However, I will hardly ever get used to people who do not admit issues or lack of knowledge, maybe due to a preference for conflict avoidance. So far, I have mainly encountered this among men, and I wonder whether male pride contributes to it. Obviously, this cannot be generalized to every man and is not specific to this country. Still, it has, unfortunately, influenced my experience here quite a bit. For example, at work, we had an incident where I requested a computer with high RAM from our IT person. He organized the installation after a few weeks of discussing the options. Our data analyst started to work on it and, after two weeks, casually mentioned that running scripts on the computer was relatively slow. This surprised me and I checked the settings myself, just to find out that the computer did not have the RAM requested. Confronting our IT person with it, he told me that the upgrade had not worked as planned due to technical issues – but he did not see any problem in not communicating this with me. Explaining that something like this needs to be mentioned is difficult since even constructive criticism is often taken personally, especially from a less senior or female person. Additionally, as a foreigner, it is crucial to not awake the notion of being patronizing.

Initially, all of this made me prefer Rwanda and feel that it was the more developed, democratic, and open country – but this is far from the truth. Key development indicators show that Kenya is the only country in East Africa that can be regarded as a middle-income nation, with a GDP per capita of around USD 1,500 in 2017. In contrast, Rwanda’s GDP was half of that at the same time. In addition, Kenyans living below the international poverty line (USD 1.90 per day in 2011 PPP) was only 36.8% of the total population in 2015 compared to 55.5% in Rwanda in 2016. Kigali is so safe and clean because of its rigorous police presence and strict political ruling. Increased order is paid with less freedom of speech. Nairobi, on the other hand, has a reasonably well-functioning democracy where people are not afraid to lament about politicians or discuss problems like weak institutions or corruption. This makes Rwandans more close-lipped and reserved than Kenyans, who are often more loquacious. Most Kenyans I have met so far are very warm and welcoming; I have joined a book club, philosophy group, Rotaract Club, and French course as the only foreigner – and never felt even for a second that I don’t belong.

Since I realized this, I see the country with different eyes. Where Nairobi can be hard to love with its roughness and mercilessness, it is also the bustling economic and creative capital of East Africa. Its inhabitants are known as hard-working and entrepreneurial – often having several jobs or businesses in parallel to make ends meet or support family members. It offers excellent educational and professional possibilities for a diverse set of Kenyans and foreigners – and many recreation options. It is a place that largely peacefully combines people from 44 different tribes (forcefully put together in one country by colonial rule, with the 44th tribe being Kenyans of Asian descent) and numerous foreigners from all over the world. Rwanda seems to have dealt with divides between Hutu and Tutsi perfunctorily (acknowledging here that these differences were formalized initially by the colonialists), but people would often tell me that, under the surface, it is well known that, for example, specific government positions could never be filled by a Hutu and political opponents are still being detained or threatened. In Kenya, elections and political power struggles often play out along tribal lines as well, but parties represent people from more diverse ethnicities, as is the case in Rwanda.

Besides the evident influence from the British colonialists, Kenya is strongly influenced by the Swahili, Indian, and increasingly Chinese culture, besides the cultures from neighboring countries.

Swahili culture has a longer-term impact and hence a more naturalized effect on Kenya than others. It developed in the ninth century in the coastal regions of Kenya and Tanzania with a heavy touch of Arabic and Islamic influence and affected mainly linguistic and culinary aspects. Don’t let me get carried away by praising the deliciousness and uniqueness of their cuisine, which is so much more complex and full of flavor than typical East African dishes (which is similar to what I wrote about food in Rwanda). Think fried Tilapia fillet with coconut rice or Mandazis (deep-fried pastries with cardamom and coconut milk).

Ask a Nairobian about their favorite food, and you will often hear chapati, samosa, or biryani (the first two can be bought at almost every corner and are eaten daily by most Kenyans). It is debated whether these staples of the Kenyan cuisine were introduced by the first Indian merchants through the Indian Ocean trade centuries ago or by Indians that came to Kenya under the British East Africa Protectorate at the end of the 19th century – most of them to support with administrative work or the construction of the Uganda railway. Nowadays, the Indian community mainly resides in certain neighborhoods of large cities like Nairobi or Mombasa, where they live largely amongst themselves.

Like in most parts of Africa, Chinese investment (mainly into infrastructure) has brought workers and managers of large Chinese companies into the main cities. Nairobi’s Kilimani neighborhood (where I live) is a hub for many Chinese people in Kenya, with entire food courts and shopping malls filled with Chinese restaurants, shops, and casinos. The most expensive Kenyan infrastructure project since independence (with a price tag of USD 3.6 billion), the Mombasa – Nairobi Standard Gauge Railway, was funded by the Chinese government and mainly carried out by the China Road and Bridge Corporation. Since then, discussions have sprung up about the benefits and risks of Chinese debt and the preferential treatment of Chinese companies in these projects.

Besides these three cultures, there are large communities of Somalis, Sudanese, and Ethiopians living in Nairobi. This makes the city a melting pot of different cultures and cuisines. Nevertheless, it has also developed its own identity and culture through its slang language Sheng (a combination of Swahili, English, and various tribal languages, and one of the most dynamic languages in the world), its art and poetry movements, literature magazines, musicians, movies, and street style – creating a form of national unity.

Still, many Kenyans struggle with this shared national identity beyond their tribal one. Belonging to the Kikuyu, Luhya, or Kalenjin (the three largest tribes in Kenya based on the 2009 census, but in the meantime, the Luo tribe seems to have overtaken the Kalenjin) has priority for the majority of Kenyans. Kalenjin are the tribe famed for producing the world’s best runners. The internationally famous Maasai tribe only makes up a tiny proportion. During a discussion about society and culture at a philosophy club meeting, I learned that many regard it as critical for their national identity to preserve their tribal mother tongue and customs and that the traditions of other tribes are as foreign to them as those of other countries. Even though English and Swahili are the two official languages, almost no Kenyan calls either their mother tongue. Many view them as externally imposed and not making up the authentic cultural identity.

Another unifying factor across tribes is the strong religiousness of the majority of the population. Based on the 2009 census, 85% of the population are Christians, and 11% are Muslims. What keeps surprising me is the devotion of even young people to attend church or mosque and regular Bible or Quran studies. Among my Kenyan friends, I only know one or two who do not regularly go to church on Sundays or mosque on Fridays. It is completely normal that someone of my age writes in a WhatsApp group, “may you be guided by God’s grace and mercies,” to wish others a safe journey – in Germany, you would be laughed at among most young people since religiousness is not regarded as ‘cool’. The astonishment and incomprehension, however, are mutual when I try to explain why most young people do not go to church or do not even believe in God in Europe. Having repeatedly been confronted by these questions, I increasingly struggle to find good answers. It is not even a topic many of my European friends would talk about; hence I wouldn’t know their reasons.

Church on Sundays is not the only reason why leisure time for Kenyans can look slightly different from those of expats. Even though many young Kenyans love to go out to dance and drink, they also place high importance on visiting their family regularly and often take Matatus on the weekend to get to the cities and villages where they come from. Furthermore, most young professionals live alone in small apartments on the outskirts of Nairobi, resulting in them spending hours each day getting to and from work. In the expat community, shared apartments in central Nairobi are more common. Favorite pastime activities for many foreigners include outdoor sports, weekend trips, and parties (unfortunately including drugs for many) – and Kenya has a lot to offer in these three categories. Hiking and climbing opportunities in the Aberdare mountain range, at Hell’s Gate or Lukenya, are plentiful – and enjoy increasing popularity, also among Kenyans. Mount Kenya is another must for any alpinist who wants to escape the overcrowded slopes of Mount Kilimanjaro and try a more challenging trek. Besides stunning mountain ranges and expansive views over the Rift Valley, a one-hour flight brings you to the coast, a different world. On the white sand beaches, hawkers walk around with camels to offer tourists rides. Local markets exhibit colorful spices of Arab and Indian origin. The naval trade brought Portuguese, Omani, and British rule over Mombasa and its surrounding, creating a unique and vibrant mix of architecture and design. Finally, Kenya is obviously a prime spot for safaris, with the great wildebeest migration in the Maasai Mara, the red elephants of Trafo East, and the views of Kilimanjaro in the background from Amboseli National Park. Compared to Rwanda, these options give enough to do to not quickly get bored of exploring the country.

The torrential rain has morphed Nairobi into a juggernaut of mud and dampness. It is nice to watch from the dryness of my home or work, but less so if it surprises me on the street. The risks of falling into one of the huge potholes filled with water or being splashed from head to toe by a Matatu are high. I wait for the downpour to stop, so I can go out again and continue exploring and understanding this country and its people with all the complexities and contrasts.