Kenya - Nairobi

"Kairibu Kenya!" exclaimed the driver who collected me from Jomo Kenyatta International Airport, "That means welcome to Kenya."

When he pointed to the car, I immediately stepped around to the front right side and plopped myself down into... the driver's seat. Oops! Former British colony, wrong-side drive. On the drive to Melissa & Tim's house, navigating some fairly heavy traffic populated by drivers who steer their car in the same winding, fast-stop-slow-fast-slow way they might walk down a country lane while chatting with friends, I wondered a couple of times why the driver was shouting, "Use your head!" to passengers in the other cars. Then I remembered, right-hand drive - those are the drivers.

"Hakuna Matata," laughed the driver, "do you know what that means?" I hesitated. I do in fact know what that means, but wouldn't it sound condescending, or maybe just plain silly, to say, "Sure, I know your language because I heard it in a Disney movie?" So I responded in the negative, to which the driver replied, surprised, "Oh! Really? Most Americans who come to Kenya know that Kiswahili word already. It means 'no problem'."

The traffic in Nairobi's city center was pretty terrible. Beyond to the aforementioned liberal interpretation of speed and lanes, the car exhaust was overwhelming, even more so than in Beijing. As we crept past Uhuru (Freedom) Park, it occurred to me that implementing any kind of emissions limits in third-world African countries like Kenya would mean completely halting any economic progress. Not many people can afford their own automobiles, and even fewer can afford cars that are less than a decade or have any functioning emissions control system. Most people get where they need to go in old, beat-up matatus (we called them bush taxis in The Gambia), 6- to 10- passenger vans into which they cram as many people as possible. Since the drivers don't spring for seat belts, or often even new seats, it unrealistic to expect them to purchase an ecologically responsible exhaust system, the cost of which would price their taxi out of the market.

The other horrific aspect of driving safety in Nairobi is not the drivers, but the carjackers. The State Department Travel Warning for Kenya reads:

"Violent criminal attacks, including armed carjacking and home invasions/burglary, can occur at any time and in any location, and are becoming increasingly frequent, brazen, vicious, and often fatal."

I knew that, but somehow I hadn't imagined what the reality of living in such a city would be like. My first evening there, as we drove home from a friend's house - a friend who had recently convinced the men who carjacked him not to drive to his house, fearing a lethal gunfight between the carjackers and his security guards - my hosts schooled me in the best protocol for surviving such an attack. (Arms over head and shout very loud, "Whatever you want you can have. I'm unbuckling my seatbelt." Don't resist.) Another colleague was carjacked during my stay in Kenya. Even people with SUVs who live in safe neighborhoods don't visit their friends in other safe neighborhoods after dark because they aren't sure of their safety on the road between.

The effect of this stress on a diplomat's well-being and, I believe, judgment on the job, is one of those costs of Foreign Service life that are extremely difficult to calculate. US diplomatic housing compounds and many other places Westerners frequent here are certainly safe, there are many relatively safe (but not carjack-immune) places outside the capital, and a US diplomat's statistical chances of getting carjacked in Kenya still stand at less than 2%. Moreover, most carjackings are not fatal. But I can just imagine my mother's state of mind if I were living in a place where I had a 2% (and rising, unfortunately) chance of being even a not-fatal carjacking victim. I don't know how people who have spouses and children can possibly concentrate on work in such an environment. Even more amazing to me is the fact that officers remain at post, including with families, after being carjacked. This kind of threat is one thing at a danger pay or unaccompanied post, but I wonder how many Americans are aware that USG bureaucrats and their families serve under such conditions in places other than the well-known war zones and high terrorism threat countries.

One sad result of the safety situation, in my opinion, is that foreigners miss out on the local culture. My tour in The Gambia was unbelievably rewarding in large part because there was no escaping the fact of where I was. I lived in a luxurious, huge, pink house with tile floors, three balconies, a pool, a kitchen that would make any cook drool, and plenty of other amenities. As soon as I walked out of my compound, though, I was on a dirt road next door to a half-built cement house full of squatters, chickens, and trash. Gambians were highly curious about foreigners in their community and equally willing to include us in local gossip and stories, if we had the interest - which I did. It was both safe and socially acceptable to go to a "local" bar, attend a gathering at a Gambian's home, or just hang out for a long while a market stall if I happened to be there when the lunch time food bowl appeared. Without that connection to the community and constant cultural education (often more properly termed "entertainment!"), it might have been a long two years in an isolated place with only a few friends. It saddens me that some US diplomats will serve somewhere like Nairobi, where they experience a high degree of inconvenience and danger paired with very little interaction with locals, and they will likely decide not to return to Africa at all.

I do not mean to imply that my experience in Nairobi was entirely negative, nor do I want to whine on behalf of my very professional colleagues there. This introspection is completely peronsal: my tour in The Gambia was so rich and left me with such a strong desire to return to Africa, that I can't help comparing the two experiences and considering how they both will affect any future plans to work there.

As I mentioned earlier, there are safe places to go in Nairobi, and I saw a number of them. Before going to the elephant orphanage at David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust, which I mentioned in my earlier post, we stopped by the Langata Giraffe Centre. Since we had not yet been on safari, this was my first up-close experience with giraffes - and boy did we get close! Not only can you feed the giraffes, but staff encourage visitors to rest a food pellet on their upper lip and allow a giraffe "kiss" you by taking it from you with his or her tongue. On top of pictures I know she has of some of my less elegant behavior in Shanghai, Melissa now owns photographic
evidence of a female named Daisy giving me tongue. It's a good 4 years until my security clearance needs renewing...

The giraffe center had Rothschild giraffes, a different breed from the Reticulated Giraffes we would see on safari. They have different markings, but they are all beautiful creatures. For more pictures, follow the photo link below:

Nairobi 4/27- 5/4