3 days in Nairobi

by Jacqueline Malombe (Malawi)

I didn't expect to find Kenya

What does a gathering of 9,500 people look like? What does it sound like? What does it feel like? As I walked through security and up the pathway flanked by national flags, I could feel the build-up of something great. The light pounding of my heart and the scuttling of my feet echoed in my ears. My thoughts flowed like a narration until they were replaced by a chorus of several incomprehensible dialogues. I knew I’d arrived. Many foreign words bounced around the courtyard, different with each turn of the ear, West African in one corner and Arabic in the next. I tore my eyes from my newly purchased mauve shoes quickly enough to snap my neck. Behold! Asea of differently complexioned bodies decorated in a full spectrum of attire. It might have looked like a mosaic to the birds flying above. Bright and dull colours painted the landscape. There were men in grass skirts and others in fitted suits; women with flowers in their hair and others wearing kaftans and head scarves. If diversity could be captured in one scene it would be the spectacle before my eyes. That was my first day in Nairobi and the pain of jetlag was quickly forgotten. I was instantly moved into my most receptive aura, ready to absorb the hundred-something experiences and feelings a three-day international conference can offer. The days were inevitably long and filled with complicated discussions that I did not always understand.I was completely out of my comfort zone, feeling young and naive but thrilled to be in a place where almost nobody knew my first name. However, I grew quickly accustomed to the hustle and bustle of conferencing. It became as natural as sunshine. After three mornings spent in the same fashion, I learned how to gather enough energy to make it to sunset. I’d wake up to evidence of rain that went unnoticed in my deep sleep. ‘Petrichor’ is what they call it - the smell of wet earth. Each morning I sat by an open window with a steaming cup of Kericho tea and inhaled each ration of air with intention, for it tasted like independence. Then I was ready to step out into the cool morning. It was a dangerous ten-minute walk to the venue. Getting by the narrow pavements of the highway involved more hopping and skipping than walking, in fact. It was a battle to avoid having your feet trampled by motorcyclists called ‘boda bodas’ and heading into a lamppost as you evaded one – no feat for the slow paced and claustrophobic. We went by so quickly that the plush forest beneath us looked like green blurry lines and the four lanes of traffic to my right made me dizzy. The journey was hectic but upon arrival time slowed down once again. The second and third times, going through security felt like stepping through a portal to a world of limitless adventure. There was always someone new to bump into to tell me about their national delicacy or the tribal kings and queens of their country. By sundown, my eyes were droopy and my legs were tired. I watched the sky with wonder and smiled. I caught a cab back to my little hotel room just before dark. It was my final night. I had found the answers to my questions. It feels like the world has travelled to you and not the other way around.