We arrived in Nairobi around 8:45 PM.* I was shocked at the number of passengers on our flight from London to Nairobi – a full 757. The woman sitting next to me was a Kenyan whom I tried to chat-up, but her accent was very thick and her English poor. (Some of the other students said they thought she was fully aware, and just playing dumb because she didn’t want to talk to me…maybe so). The 8 hour flight to Nairobi was definitely a long and grueling one, particularly coming right off a 6 hour trans-Atlantic flight to London from Chicago. On the screen on the headrest in front of me the little avatar of a plane gently glided across the map of Africa – and that was when it truly sunk in that I was actually pursing a dream of mine dating back to my high-school years. As we began our decent into Jomo Kenyatta airport, the surreal that had filled my mind in dreams, visions, and thoughts finally merged with the real. We disembarked the plane, during which the Kenyan woman who had been sitting next to me pushed me and everybody in front of me out of the way and remained completely physically attached to my back pushing and saying “scoot, scoot”). Upon entrance to the airport terminal we went strait to the immigration/customs table where we simply handed over an immigration card and visa application we’d filled out on the plane, along with our passport at $50 (the cost of a single-entry visa). Without hardly examining our documents or asking any questions a man stamped and initialed our passports (documenting our immediate Visa acceptance), and we were on our way. After worrying for weeks about the possibility of losing my bags, as I had been perpetually warned about, I was extremely relieved to see both of my bags scoot my way atop the baggage claim belt. Once we all had our bags we continued out to the lobby of the airport where we were warmly greeted by KJ, our program director, and Victor, a local Kenyan who is an assistant to the our program.

We proceeded outside to a very cool climate and Victor loaded our bags onto a matatu that they had rented for the night so we could immediately get a feel for public-transportation. The law on the Matatus is that every person must be seated, so it was quite the challenge fitting all 20 people with our luggage while ensuring every person was seated. We drove on a very bumpy road from the airport, through downtown, and to the Westlands where our apartment complex is located. We lugged our bags up the stairs (fortunately I am only on the second floor) to our apartments.

Upon entering I was reminded of our farmhouse in Sicily and the somewhat primitive interior design. Through the entrance to the left is a kitchen and laundry room. To the right, rather are three bedrooms and two bathrooms. Of the bathrooms is in the larger bedroom and I share a bathroom with the girls in the room across the hall from me. My room is small, probably about 8×12 feet with a hard twin bed, a very small bedside table, and an ill-equipped wardrobe built into the wall. We have a couch and 2 comfy chairs in our sitting room where there is a small television. The sitting room opens unto a balcony (with chairs and a table!) that overlooks a back ally that runs between our complex and a cornfield. Our entire program met in our sitting room to have formal introductions, receive little goodie-bags with our African cell phones, 3 condoms (I think more to stress a point than to promote promiscuous behavior), a very nice beaded key-chain with our apartment keys, a sticker of the Kenyan national flag and a patch, some note-cards and 2 pens (of which the pen cap serves a double-purpose as a tool to stick into the third socket in the power outlet to get 2-pronged plugs in). We met for about 30 minutes to lay out a game plan for the proceeding day.

After the meeting my roommates and I stayed up until around 2 or 3 in the morning drinking tea we had whipped together and snacking on biscuits. After we decided to get some rest before the long day awaiting us I returned to my room and unpacked my bags, organized my stuff, and entered everybody’s phone numbers into my phone.

I awoke the following morning to a cold shower and a scrambled egg breakfast prepared by one of the apartment-mates. Our day commenced with a group meeting discussing the program and meeting the apartment staff. Afterwards we left the apartment complex for the first time and walked the streets of Nairobi to the station where we got on the matatu to travel downtown for lunch. Walking the streets of Nairobi was quite intimidating in that we first walked on the side of the road on a dirt path to the matatu station, and then once downtown we walked literally in the road in between the parked cars and the chaotic traffic. I have a real fear of getting hit by a car now, particularly since my friend Anthony told me about how he got hit by a car in Egypt. The driving reminded me a lot like Palermo in that drivers stick the noses of their cars in front of merging traffic and play chicken until one succumbs and allows passage. Kenyans take a lot of pride in their appearance and everybody was well dressed in suits or khakis with some kind of pressed shirt. It was actually interesting KJ told us not to feel guilty about having somebody doing our laundry for us and that even people living in the slums send their laundry away to be done. But it was quite a site to see Kenyans wearing suits running up dirt hills.

My first observation at the restaurant was that there was a row of sinks and soap out on the patio where we were sitting for you to wash your hands. Kenyans primarily do not use silverware and they eat with their hands. I ordered a roasted chicken, which came with an excellent tomato and onion salad along with some great white rice. One thing that bugged me a little bit was that we did not have napkins so you go through the entire meal with greasy fingers and then go wash your hands again after the meal. I do not know how common this is throughout Nairobi, but it was a different situation at the restaurant where we later ate dinner.

After lunch we faced our first big challenge. We were given 100 shillings (the equivalent of $1.50) and were instructed to go through the Massai Market and practice our bargaining skills. It ended up being a great way for us to begin to settle in and learn to fend for ourselves. I had a great time! There were men constantly approaching us to try and sell their stuff. But they were so friendly about it! “Hello! What is your name! Where are you from!?” they would ask. Despite how much you said “No, I’m just browsing”, they persisted to cling onto you, but they were very fun to talk to. I was shaking hands with everybody and letting them show me what they have and asking questions about the culture and the Swahili names of their items. I had mentioned I liked some things and the man wrote a number down on his hand and told me to write my price down. He had written down several thousand shillings and I was kind of embarrassed to write down as my opening price 75 shillings, but we all got a good laugh over it. In the end I ended up talking a guy down from several hundred shillings to 80 (which he whispered in my ear to keep it a secret). When I handed him the 100 shilling note I asked if he had change and he just gave me another bracelet. I felt rather successful seeing as 100 shillings was not much. After the transaction I walked around a little bit, with literally no money in my pocket to buy anything else, so it was easier to ward off the vendors with a stern and confident “Hapana, asante” (“No, thank you”). I quickly noticed how when I spoke English they were all over me, but with confident Swahili they move along. Afterwards I felt that I was now prepared to be able to portray the image of a Nairobi resident rather than the “rich white tourist” or “mzungu”.

I’ve had some great conversations with some of the local Kenyans I’ve met and have been learning a lot. Everybody has such interesting insight and are actually very well read into the local politics. So our next mission is to start reading the Kenyan newspapers so that we carry on conversations with the people we meet about the affairs of the day.

*There is a 7 hour time difference between Nairobi and Washington, DC.