Intro to Stephanie's Kenya Blog: Life in Nairobi

Hi friends, family, and professors!

I have been in Kenya for a month now, sans blog. My summer in Tanzania last year passed without a single online entry, and I am beginning to realize that the "blogosphere" would be a valuable dimension for relating my experiences abroad and staying in contact with those back home, or in other parts of the world. And thus, my Kenya blog is launched.

I have been in Kenya since September 1 with the University of Minnesota's program "Minnesota Studies in International Development" (MSID). As evident from its name, the program's core focus is on development studies in the global south, emphasizing a variety of sub-fields ranging from public health to sustainable agriculture to social, urban, and women's studies. After seven weeks of classes held in Nairobi, students venture off to their respective, most often rural, internships with grass-roots non-government organizations. Second semester allows students to continue their internships as well as conduct their own research projects and case studies in international development.

Life in Nairobi:

After spending two months in a rural village in Tanzania in 2007, my expectations of life in Kenya proved quite distorted when cast against the reality of Nairobian livelihood. In essence, this urban hub of East Africa is deceivingly Western. The skyscrapers of the city center convey the image of a bustling financial district. Rush hour (better, yet, ALL hours) traffic puts L.A. to shame - the automobile density demonstrates at once that a sizable chunk of Nairobi's population flaunt cars and that the city planners performed poorly in creating road systems to accommodate the swelling urban population. People dress nice here. I'm busting out the hiking boots while at least 65% of the women are showcasing cute shoes. How they manage to detract mud and dust is beyond my comprehension and ability - maybe "mzungo" skin has some uncanny magnetic attraction to dirt, as the brownness of my feet is not a suntan. Just when you think to yourself, "Hey! I feel like I'm in a US city..." you get engulfed in a whirlwind of thick, black, nose-clogging smoke by a KBS bus or a matatu. The street-kids are less numerous (I am told) than in the past, but at least once a day a poorly-clad boy greets you with "How are you. Give me money, I'm hungry." You can't do anything, though, really. The problem is systemic and giving out money only perpetuates it. It's sad, though.

Of course, the best way to be reminded that Nairobi is NOT an African equivalent of L.A. or NYC is by taking the bus #32. I take it to school a few times a week, as per my laziness. It's point of departure: the biggest slum in Africa, Kibera. But to understand the shock of entering Kibera for the first time, I must backtrack and discuss my living arrangments...

Jamhuri Estates, my homestay family's neighborhood, is an eclectic place - ornate houses slam against simpler multi-family housing structures. Intense iron gates cage everyone in at night, loud cling-clanging echoes reverberate at all hours as people leave their fortresses (some much nicer than others, some much worse) and come home. The stray cats and dogs are loudest around 5 am, about the time I wake during the week. My bedroom window is an arms-length-out-the-window distance from the family who lives on the second floor in a flat this is semi-connected to my family's BIG two story house (not home, of course, - that place is in the village. Nairobi is "house," place to make money. Village is "home," place to make community). I feel safest in Jamhuri, although two friends have already been held at gunpoint (was it real or was it a toy gun? Hmm...) in one of Jamhuri's salons. In summation, Jamhuri is a middle class place, all basic needs are met, and many cars litter the unpaved roads like candy spewed during a parade.

I walk through Jamhuri, I don't know if its N,S,E or W, but I walk for about 7 minutes. I come to the train tracks. I step over electric wire, I step over the tracks. Boom. I've been transported to a different world, a different reality. Life's blender pressed "on" and now everything's been shaken up. I'm in Kibera. I'm still on its outskirts, so I don't feel too scared or threatened, but I'm on guard. I walk about 5 minutes and that's where I pick up the 32 bus. Could it be any more movie-like? A nice middle class neighborhood, cross the tracks (why do tracks always separate the rich and poor? I remember learning, but forgot the content, of a theory addressing that question) and you're in the continent's biggest slum. Larger themes of income inequality, emerging class struggles, and the government neglect of rural areas - hence prompting rural-dwellers to move to urban centers for employment, which, may it be said, does not exist - all take on a human shape and a human face.

I'll be in Nairobi until the end of October, at which time I will move to the coastal city of Mombasa to commence my internship. The NGO holds seminars on political finance accountability and land rights. Diverse, ehh? Like so many things in Africa, I do not the details yet, so I will elaborate on that subject when the subject manifests itself to me.

That's all for now. Throughout this blog, please feel free to post any opinions, points of contention, questions, etc. etc. Thanks for reading!!!