Guest Post 2

This marks my second guest blog post from Africa. I'm thrilled that Mollie invited me back!

I've been in Kenya for a week, and so far we've had many great experiences with a lot of interesting people. As Mollie has already gone in great detail about these (see below), I will use this opportunity to share two general observations I've had since being here.

After just a few days walking around the city (following Mollie and Kyla around), the first thing I noticed was how noticeable we are. Everyone stares, some people shout – especially at the girls – and we spend a lot of time bargaining whenever we buy something because apparently there are special prices for “mzungus” like us. It took me awhile to get comfortable with walking around outside of our hostel because I frankly didn't feel safe sticking out so much.

The second thing I noticed was how slow the pace of living here is. Whether we're trying to catch a mutatu to go up the street, order food at a restaurant, or just walking around town, it seems like nobody needs to do anything in a hurry. I have two theories as to why that is: 1. people just enjoy taking their time here, or 2. they just understand that some things will break down, some timetables will change, and some things are so unreliable that they see it as useless to try and be efficient with their time.

Those are my two observations, and here are examples of each.

After a couple of days in Nairobi, we came to Kisumu to stay with one of Mollie's friends from school, Andrew. Everything she said about his beautiful family is absolutely true. What she didn't mention was that during our bike ride through the different parts of the city, we really encountered the full spectrum of people living here. On one side, Andrew's mother-in-law invited us out to her house on Saturday afternoon. Over lunch I experienced the many similarities between the Kenyan and Hispanic cultures, most notably that family seems to be the main focal point in their lives. Andrew's mother-in-law was so welcoming and seemed genuinely excited to cook a wonderful meal for us. We talked about the different students that had come to her home for study abroad programs and what she thought about her recent trip to the U.S. She's definitely someone that will stick out in my mind once this trip is over.

After we left, we rode through one of the slums here in Kisumu and I experienced the other side of the spectrum. It's hard to explain the feeling I had during our 30-minute ride back to Andrew's house. Mollie was riding her bike in front of me and I was very cognizant about some of the looks and comments she got from people as we rode past them. I imagine it would be very hard for anyone to understand what it's like if they've never been in a place where they look so different from everyone else. Everyone won't stop starring at you. The kids we passed would come out of their homes and start laughing at us from the side of the street. People who passed us on bikes would turn their heads to stare at Mollie. Men who were just hanging out on the street would whistle, say something I couldn't understand, and then laugh as we passed them. When we got home, I told Mollie how uncomfortable it made me feel, and she explained to me that it's just a part of being here when you look like we do and you have to just ignore it. Easier said than done for me.

The most illustrative example of how slow the general pace of life is here occurred during our mutatu trip from Nakuru to Kisumu. After getting dropped off at our original bus stop to try and catch a ride to Kisumu, we were directed to the opposite side of town to ask for man named “Mike.” With ALL of our luggage in hand (keep in mind Mollie is staying here for two months and has a general tendency to pack a lot of clothes), we took a very circuitous route through town to find a mutatu park that reminded me of the places in the US where all of the school buses park at night. We were quickly approached by many different men who asked us where we were going and of course told us that they operated the next bus to Kisumu. It was a small miracle that we were able to finally identify “Mike” (after about half an hour) amongst a swarm of different mutatu-crews. The next challenge was loading all of our luggage into the mutatu, which again set us back about half an hour. We finally took our seats (hand baggage in laps), and were ready to take off. The only challenge was that about 50 other mutatus were ready as well, resulting in a major traffic jam that took us another half hour to navigate before we were on the road to Kisumu.

To put things into perspective, Andrew (Mollie's friend who has been living in Kenya for the last four years) told me that he gave up riding mutatus after just a few months because he thought they were too dangerous and weren't worth the hassle and discomfort they came with. This mutatu took us on a 7-hour ride through the Rift Valley along unpaved streets. Mollie describes the experience as being similar to getting a back massage (see below). If that's true, everyone should ask her where she gets her massages from and be sure to never waste your money there.

Despite all of these un-pleasantries, I'm starting to come around to Mollie's all-encompassing, nonchalant mentality that this is Africa and that's just how things are here. Sure, you can never plan things more than a day in advance because you can never be sure if your schedule will hold up; but then again, it has added an exciting element of unpredictability and flexibility to our trip. Yes, always trying to be taken advantage of is very annoying, but there is some satisfaction when you're able to negotiate down from mzungu prices and the locals still tell you asante (thanks) as you jump in their mutatu. As far as sticking out like a sore thumb, and always being yelled and starred at, I don't think I'll ever be fully comfortable with that. But then again, this is Africa and that's just how things are.

Until next time, thanks for reading (as Mollie says).

Jacob