Jambo, Kenya
Recently I took my family back to my home country of Kenya for a much-anticipated return to my home, my roots, and my memories. It had been so long since I had been there that it felt like a lifetime ago...in fact, it was two lifetimes ago as I had had two more children since my last visit.
Much had changed in Nairobi since then: the Chinese had come with grand infrastructure ventures, there were new buildings and shopping centers on every corner, new highways and byways and flyovers and the like, new swanky restaurants and bars, and a new sense of energy and enthusiasm about the city. And, yet, there were many things that remained the same, despite the passage of time: the roads remained in disrepair; the throngs of people about the streets at rush hour continued walking purposefully to work or to their homes in the shanties; the same Mama Makai (Mama who sells grilled corn) remained fixedly on her preferred street corner; the bustling frenzy of car horns sounded in (endless) traffic jams; the hum of human sounds filled the warm air; and the vibrancy of the city with it’s multiculturalism and multilingualism continued to fill my soul.
There is so much about this country that I love. Like so many “developing” countries, it is the juxtaposition of the myriad layers of substance that creates the complexity of the experience: the street stalls lined up in thickets in front of brightly lit modern buildings; highways buzzing with both fancy, new cars and sputtering, overly full public transport vehicles; people everywhere clad in suits and plain clothes but also those wearing their traditional garments and herding their flocks among the pedestrians and cyclist; modern shops with modern items for sale layered among the masses of street businesses selling plants, furniture, clothing, and household wares; people of every shade, creed, and story co-existing in layered strata of varying degrees of privilege and well-being.
Everywhere you look, you will find diversity and inequity. My country is not without it’s inconceivable suffering and challenges, as is true of so many places in the world. Some people thrive while others struggle to meet their most basic needs, and the starkness of this contrast is in your face at all times. It isn’t an “easy” place to visit or live. But, it is my home. And, while the contrasts are disconcerting, it offers me the opportunity to feel deeply into the privilege I was born into, to consider the conditions that allow for people to either thrive or struggle, and to broaden my capacity for empathy and good-will. This living between two worlds has made me who I am today.
