Kenya- Beautiful on the Inside

So
I have been here for almost a week and I feel like I can make a fair judgment of my current home city of Nairobi. I'll be frank. When I was driven to my hotel from the airport I was thinking to myself- what the f*** have I gotten myself into?

I just gave up a nice cozy life in Korea to come to this industry laden dust land with not a tree in sight. There were people, hundreds of people, migrating next to the road, a sight that was quite shocking because as opposed to the 4 ft ajumas that lined the streets of Daegu most of these people were 6ft tall and able bodied men. The ditches next to the road look like they could swallow you whole if you misplace your footing and the cow manure is a nice touch of texture and smell that will forever plague your shoe.

The hotel though was nice, my room has a fully functioning bathroom with hot water and I have always dreamed of having a mosquito net hanging over my bed ever since I spotted some many years back at IKEA so here’s to childhood wishes coming true.

Next, when I arose at the ungodly hour of 4 am thanks to jetlag I was able to indulge myself in a few hours of Kindle before heading to breakfast at 6 am where I dined on boiled eggs and toast with a few of my colleagues. I did not expect that the next 20 minutes would entail crossing the highway by running before oncoming traffic got to us, flagging down a van crammed with strangers that was going in our direction, jumping in and then paying a man a few shillings. Then after about 10 minutes on the matatu I was to be dropped off once again on the side of the road and run for my life before a semi made me into a pancake across 6 lanes of highway. Both in theory and in practice this approach of getting to work is ridiculous.

Though, I have to say now that I have ridden the matatu everyday for a week I come to realize that the other passengers are also hard working citizens on their way to work and that the matatus have certain routes that they take that actually makes them somewhat predictable.

I have also found that no matter how grungy, dilapidated and insanely dusty the outside of something is, the inside is undoubtedly going to exceed your expectation on cleanliness, atmosphere and service. This is why I think of Kenya as a book that you cannot judge by the cover. You cannot even judge it by the smell, because there is a certain oily, musky, dusty essence to most things and people here. You can only judge by the insides. The insides of matatus are clean compared to the dented and chipped paint exterior that they sport. The insides of mall and restaurants are right up there with an American Starbucks. The most important insides though, as those of the people that I have met in Kenya. There is something of a parental nature that I have felt from the people who I interact with. Anyone from the workers at my job to the man who guards my hotel and keeps me safe at night is welcoming and always ready for a conversation. Not so much a conversation as an exchange of stories. Also to be noted is that the tones most people speak with are the same as those used when telling a lullaby. So as this story of Kenya unfolds, told by the mother tongues of the people who I interact with and kindly translated for my inept ears I come to think of Kenya as a book that needs to be read for the quality and beauty of the content and not so much the illustrations on the cover.