Merry Christmas! This isn't a festive post by any means, but I've not had chance to catch up on my blog all week and suddenly the 25th is upon us. I'll do my best to fill you all in with the family/Christmas happenings before the end of the weekend!
I realised that we have less than 10 days before we jet home to Australia, this month has really flown (pun intended!).
This post is going to be very honest, and it's not my intention to be negative or bring down the country and peoples that have entertained and astonished me over the past three weeks, but I feel it is important to have that one post which highlights the difference between where I am right now and where I have come from. Bear with me, please read this with objective eyes and an open mind.
I'm first to admit that I have had a pretty good life. We didn't grow up with lots of money and fancy cars, houses and lots of treats but we had a great childhood and I've always had a roof over my head and food on the table. I have never gone without, and never felt like I was missing out on the everyday essentials to make life comfortable. I've also never really experienced poverty, even from a bystanders viewpoint. I've never known what it is like to walk down a road that's so unstable and damaged that ankle injuries are almost a given and I've never had neighbours whose houses have been made of scrap materials and makeshift fences to keep the criminals out. In fact, I've never lived in a house that was surrounded by a fence or a wall.
I remember one of the thoughts that went through my head when I first saw the streets of suburban Nairobi as we headed to my inlaws house. "Wow, this place is a lot poorer than I thought."
I was under the impression that the 'burbs were somewhat like ours back home, with bituminised roads, street signs and shops and services within 5 minutes of home...after all, Nairobi is a developing city!
In actuality, the suburbs of Nairobi are mostly like this, but also not.
There are bituminised roads, some are beautifully smooth and well maintained- especially where government buildings are. But there's a lot of areas where the bitumen has been poured and flattened once...with unfinished rough edges, then left to diminish into a combination of giant potholes and loose rubble. One minute you're driving on a smooth surface at 60kph, and the next left or right turn sees the speed reduce to about 10kph as you navigate your way over very uneven roads.
Most suburban streets have no signage. There are a few places in Nairobi that we drove past where houses were actually given a number and a designated address, but most places don't. It makes it hard using a GPS when there isn't actually a street name, or a house number. People rely on memory, routine and landmarks to get them to their destination. Majority of homes are part of apartment blocks, where space is maximised to host the most amount of housing in the smallest of spaces. More on that later...
The shops and services are there, heaps of them. Butchers, salons, groceries, milk bars, hotels, hot food, cold food, car washes, repair shops, technology shops...you name it. They just don't look anything like ours back home. Anything.
I'm not talking about the big indoor shopping malls, they are pretty standard across both countries, I'm focusing on those little sets of shops that you pop into on your way home, the local deli, pizza bar and chemist type shops.
In the suburbs of Nairobi, and further out into the rural areas, these shops are made from wood and tin, they look like homemade garden sheds and line the roads along with open air fruit/veg stalls. The butcheries have giant carcasses hanging in the front window where patrons can select their chunk of meat to roast later - nyama choma. The salons have poor lighting and plastic chairs where people come to get their hair done, or a manicure/pedicure treatment. The "everything" shops: the ones where you can buy soft drinks and lollies, bread, milk, Internet data and phone credit (airtime) etc, keep their shopkeepers safe by way of metal bars to form a barrier/cage so that you can only ask for what you want and the shopkeeper will pass it to you via a gap in the bars. Very occasionally I saw one where you could go "in" and browse the shelves, but this isn't common.
There are also places along the roads, usually in areas where the matatus stop, where people just set up their own stalls or ground spaces to sell their wares. Be those shoes, clothing, furniture, gas bottles, chapatis, grilled corn, pretty much anything they can tempt the crowds with. It's hectic, messy, fascinating and overwhelming.
Housing is interesting and it's only been today that I finally was able to see past the exterior and first impressions and really understand the issues going on here. People that live in houses/bungalows on their own piece of land vary from basic two-room places with evidence of man-made extensions to fit their growing families, or a central house not unlike our older homes, with one-bedroom "granny-flats" scattered around the property. Mostly constructed like a garage that's been lined and compartmentalised to include a kitchenette and shower/toilet room. I can't quite find the right word to describe them. They are so small, but practical and functional. They also have huge walls with either barbed wire or broken glass cemented into the top of the wall to deter thieves. They are situated behind giant iron gates so that from "street view" you have no indication of what sort of house lies within those walls. It surprised me a few times when the roads leading to the house we were visiting were so bumpy and neglected, with shanty housing neighbouring either side, only to lead to an oasis of personal space behind those gates.
There are also many many apartment blocks as I mentioned earlier. They can range from 3 storeys high to 7, and usually are one-bedroom or a maximum of two (I've seen "3-bed apartment for rent" signs but haven't met anyone who lives in one). They are solid stone walls that have been rendered and plastered on the inside (and painted), the bathroom usually has an instant hot water shower and toilet in close proximity to each other plus a sink, and then there is a small kitchen and a living room which doubles as a dining space. I've not seen a dining table in any apartment so far, everyone eats on their lap or at a coffee table in the middle of the room. I often wondered if I could ever live in a one-bedroom unit or apartment back home and usually came to the conclusion that my answer is a resounding "no". Too small to really make it into a home. However, I also now can see how I'm so used to having "stuff" and "space" that if I were to strip my belongings back to the bare necessities and get rid of the "stuff", I could actually live minimally. I'm not sure for how long, but seeing how it's done here, where its not about how much you have but how well you make what you have work.
Kenya, in particular Nairobi, is a city of extremes. I've seen mansions, and shanty towns...I've seen well kept streets, and neglected roads, I've seen manicured gardens and rubbish piles on the side of the street. I've seen wealth, and I've seen poverty. All in the space of a 20km radius.
I'm very fortunate, blessed even. Our little 3-bedroom house back in Adelaide is what I would call a small house, bigger than a unit, but suitable for no more than three people...but in reality, I live in a spacious home that is secure and safe without the walls and barbed wire. My street is smooth and wide, the shops are air conditioned in summer and protected from the rain and wind in winter. I can't actually compare. The two places are not comparable. Not dissimilar, but not comparable. Does that even make sense? It really is a different world here. A developing world.
I'm very aware now of what that means.
And yet, for some reason...I feel at home. In both cities.
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