Making Friends in Nairobi

I had arranged to include a few days on my own before and after the  itinerary planned through VICDA. To start, I would spend a few nights in Nairobi at the same accommodations that VICDA planned for its volunteers, The Shalom House.

This was the perfect place to ease into the new and unfamiliar world where I had landed. The Shalom House is a quiet and safe compound which caters to volunteers and NGOs (Non-Government Organizations). There is a beautifully landscaped courtyard in the middle of several well maintained buildings. The hotel offers dorm style or private rooms. I had a private room with single bed, small table, private bathroom, mosquito net and breakfast included for 2,000 Ksh (about $26) per night. Although the shower was not hot and the water only on sporadically, I was very happy to have these luxuries. The Shalom House offers meeting space and workshops and I felt very comfortable among what appeared to be other volunteers and a occassional group of Kenyan clergymen gathered with Bibles in hand. I was happy to feel safe without being in the typical tourist locations.

There is also an internet cafe on site, which allowed me to touch base with those back home and led me to my first friend in Africa, Jack, who worked there. As with most other Kenyans in Nairobi, he spoke eloquent English and greeted me with a friendly smile. I asked if he could point me in the direction of walking to the nearest Chemist shop, which is a pharmacy where you can buy just about any medicine ‘over the counter’. My missionary clients from Sudan had given me advice on some medicines that might be good to carry and I wanted to add to the supplies I planned to carry to the IDP camp. He recommended I hire a driver, but when he saw that I was not going to take his advice, he insisted on escorting me.

Outside of the quiet compound, I found my senses overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of Nairobi. Matatus and other vehicles honked and wove around each other down the busy Ngong road. We made our way along the dirt foot path highway that accompanies every paved road in Kenya. Really, the amount of foot traffic was like nothing I had ever seen. A short distance and few turns later and we were passing storefronts made of tin and wood.

We conducted the usual questions for getting to know each other a bit and by the time we were back at Shalom, I felt a strong instinct that Jack was someone I could trust. He had to return to work, but offered to call a friend of his who was a taxi driver to assist me in the sight-seeing activities that I had planned for the rest of the day. Later I would meet two volunteers who had everything, including their passports, stolen from them while walking from Shalom House in the middle of the day. I learned more and more how dangerous Nairobi can be.

And so I met Albert. Although he gave me no special treatment in fees (it is very expensive to hire a private taxi driver in Nairobi, around $50 for the day), he was the most excellent tour guide and really a life saver at times. I insisted he join me on my excursions to the National Museum and authentic Kenyan lunch in City Center. He had an amazing ability to convince street guards to provide us with parking spots and without his guidance, I would have been much to afraid to try to navigate around the large capital city.

That evening Albert also introduced me to Nairobi nightlife. I saw the westernized side of Kenya as we hopped around restaurants, bars and dance clubs. With Djs playing old American classics, TVs on the wall, a very diverse crowd and women dressed in heels; I could have forgotten I was on the other side of the world. We swapped stories and inquiries. I shared my favorite music by ipod and they marveled at the device. They took me to hear a very popular singer, Kidum, perform his beautiful love songs in Swahili.

At one stop, I shared the tragedy, grief and pain that almost led me to ending my life in 2010 but eventually led me to Africa. Then Albert shared his story of surviving the Rwandan genocide as a small child. He watched many of his family members tortured and killed and barely escaped alive after being beaten and left for dead. He urged me to never give up and to remember that life is worth living, even when the pain seems more than you can bear. I cried and thanked him for giving me this perspective. I knew this trip would help me to heal. I now consider Jack and Albert my good friends and look forward to the day I can see them again.