"Sister, come this way!!!"

Today was quite an adventure. We went to the open market with my new Kenyan friend named Jules. Jules is going to be my new partner in crime and will be a great insight into the culture. The market was in downtown Nairobi; it was my first time in the city. The contrasts simply amaze me. One second you will see beautiful jungle and forest. The next second there is a shanty town with makeshift shops out front. The roads are covered in fresh mud from the rain the day before. Vendors set up shop across the sludge; there is row after row of furniture and potted flowers. Sheep, goats, and cattle wander about looking for a place to graze or rest. Further as you drive you will find an actual structurally sound shopping center, surrounded by a gate and guard.

The contrasts in buildings remind me of the variety of people living here. There are the poorer natives who live on less than a dollar a day. Most of the vendors we encountered at the open market seemed desperate to get our attention and sell us something. Because we are mazungus (white), we have money. Then there are the more middle class workers who have a more steady and reliable income. Lastly there are the upper class, government officials, and of course me, the wealthy westerner. Nairobi is a more international city so I have seen plenty of other whites and some variety of ethnicities. This makes me feel I don’t stand out as much. I asked Jules if people were happy here in Nairobi. She explained that happy is not the word she would use but content instead. She told me that people struggle here to make a living and put food on the table. I hope to look further into this as we get to know each other better.

The market was a buzz of energy and noise. Initially it was very overwhelming, especially since the three of us (Jules, Sue my step mother, and myself) were immediately bombarded with an onslaught of men seeking our attention. “Sister, come this way!” or “Karibu (welcome) sister!” they shouted at us as we walked. We were surrounded by five men thrusting different trinkets in our faces. “Only 100 shillings!” We continued walking and they continued following. As if we didn’t stand out enough, we now had a parade trailing behind us. What a scene!

For the first time since I had arrived I was overtaken with the need to blend in. Why couldn’t my skin just be darker? Had I worn the wrong clothes? Did I look that obviously out of place? I desperately wished I could just fit here and not be hassled. The men I felt were rude and pushy. Why wouldn’t they just let me shop in peace???

As the minutes ticked on and we stopped at our first vendor who had his tee-shirts spread out across a canvas on the ground, the men slowly disappeared. Throughout my time at the market I realized my westernized politeness. I felt a constant need to respond to every person that talked to me or called at me. I quickly understood that this would be impossible and that no one was gravely offended if I just smiled and quietly moved on. I learned to say, “Hapana asanti” or no thank you to the men that waved things in my face.

Although the market was overpowering at first it quickly became an adventure and a game. We bargained and laughed with the vendors. I noticed not one vendor worked alone, they operated in teams. This speaks volumes about the Kenyan culture where community is essential for survival. I also saw what my father lovingly calls “leaning”. Leaning is standing or sitting around which happens a lot. Kenyan time moves much slower; it is very rare that I see someone rushed or hurried. Work happens when it happens.

Overall the day was beautiful and insightful. For the first time since I've been here I feel I have made a real connection with Kenyans.