Being among ‘the minority’ in Kenya has its quirks and perks.
I was thinking today about some of the ways I have grown accustomed to this, and how odd it will be to go back home, and suddenly just blend back into the crowd again.
On one hand, being a minority here is sometimes difficult.
1) In grocery stores, I typically only see three to five American brands. Talk about losing all sense of “brand loyalty!” I’ve had to completely start from scratch by way of trial and error. After 7 months of being here, I think I’ve finally developed a sense of which brands are the best, and which ones to stay away from…
2) I habitually forget to veer towards the LEFT side of the road when a car is passing on MY left-hand side! Just the other day, I was out running, and a car whipped around the corner on the left side of the road, and instinctively, I started to head towards my right. I suppose I just expected that the car would head towards their right-hand side. But, they didn’t! And, I had to quickly act, to avoid getting hit! This is true of all pedestrians in Nairobi as well. Because there are so few stop signs, misc cross-walks, and no traffic lights, it’s up to you to be watchful. Cars are rather reckless, and if you would prefer not to be squashed, you just have to be on your guard at all times.
3) Even the animals take dominance on the road sometimes. Nope, it’s not like ducks in Maryland. It’s goats, cows, a few stray donkeys, or sheep. And, sometimes, it’s a pack of scary baboons that you DON’T want to mess with. Hence, I ‘naturally’ picked up a small rock on my trail run today, because we are trained to be wary of aggressive baboons coming down from the trees and gracing you with their presence on the road. So far, it hasn’t happened to me, but…I really don’t want to take a chance.
4) Almost-car accidents have become quite normal to me. In all the trips that I’ve taken into Nairobi with fellow missionaries for groceries or what-not, I’ve grown used to the fact that NO Kenyan driver really cares about what sort of highway rules us Americans are used to obeying. They see a pot hole? They veer into your part of the lane; they want to pass you? They risk their life AND yours by cutting it as close as possible; They want to sell you something? No personal boundaries. They just come right up to your window and start knocking. So, I must admit, driving is always an opportunity to entrust my life and body to the Lord for protection and safety.
5) It’s frustrating that Kenyans and local missionaries constantly recycle, but I know that upon returning to the States, the value to recycle won’t be the same. Zip-lock bags, glass jars, plastic party cups and plates…? Don’t even think about throwing them away! We SAVE and re-USE 🙂 You want to go buy a diet coke at the local gas station? Guess what? You’re going to get it in an old, glass Coke bottle that was probably made 30 years ago. You think you need paper towels? Well, most people here live without them. Wonder what people do with that shiny, thick cover that office paper comes in? Well, children in orphanages use them to design and roll Paper Bead necklaces. So, if you’re reading this back in the States, don’t feel guilty! Ziplock bags, and diapers, and plastic wrap, and foil are BLESSINGS without a doubt in my mind 🙂 I’m just bringing this point up because I wonder if all that extra pocket money that gets spent on “disposable” items, could be re-directed towards REAL needs and causes in the world?
On the other hand, being a minority has some benefits.
1) You feel like a celebrity every time you walk through town. Whenever I go out running or walking or down to the veggie ladies to get fresh produce, little Kenyan schoolchildren in adorable uniforms eagerly practice their English by shouting, “Muzungu! Muzungu!” Then, they smile and wave. When you say, “How are you?” they respond, “Sooo fine.” Being white, with blue eyes, and light skin and hair certainly makes one stand out. And, it always sort of intrigues me, because Kijabe has been a missionary community for quite some time now. One would think the kids wouldn’t be so tickled by seeing us day after day. But, they are! And, it’s just a part of normal life now.
2) When ‘on the town,’ it’s easier to recognize when you see someone you know that is also a missionary, white, or American. A bunch of us were talking about this just a couple nights ago. It’s so bazaar how SMALL the world has become since moving to Kenya! Just the other day, I met a lady who attended Montgomery College in Rockville, MD (where I spent my Freshman and Sophmore years in college) decades ago. A couple months back, I spontaneously saw my second cousin, Emily Pierce, at a restaurant. If there were dozens of other people that looked JUST like me around, I don’t know that Emily would have caught my eye in the distance. And, especially when we are doing groceries, it’s funny to me how various artifacts automatically register a stranger as a “fellow missionary.” For example, Chaco sandals. Missionaries wear comfortable shoes…and we all know it 🙂
3) Because I am a missionary, I get a special 10% discount at a local grocery store in Nairobi for all of my produce! How awesome is that? It does feel strange, though, walking up to the register, and saying the magic sentence (I’m from RVA), and the Kenyan person at the register simply nods and smiles, and gives you the discount. I must admit, it feels a bit foolish. I am nowhere NEAR to being destitute, or “poor.” Shouldn’t my local community members be getting the discount instead?
4) I am not the one having difficulty understanding language and pronunciation, which has taught me the value of patience. Isn’t it true that at least ONE time in the past two months, you’ve grown frustrated because you couldn’t understand another person’s accent? For example, you go through the fast food drive-thru, and simply can’t catch a WORD that the check-out person on the other line is speaking, right?! 🙂 Here, a Kenyan and I are talking on the phone, or over e-mail, and they are the ones with puzzled looks on their faces when I talk too fast, or with strange vocabulary that they’ve never heard, or use my natural accent which is often considered too curt in tone. One thing that has awakened this awareness is the fact that when you greet a Kenyan, “Habari yako?” (meaning, Greetings, how are you?), they respond in a high-pitched, cheerful tone and say, “Mizuru, sana!” (Well, thank you!) If I responded in a drab, dull tone, “Mizuru, sana,” it probably doesn’t go over as well. So, whatever culture you are putting yourself into, I think I’ve learned how important it is to be wise with words, temperate with tone, and as much as possible, patient with processing pronunciation that is different than yours.
5) I’ve learned that American brands, styles, habits, and ways are really not “all that,” which is pretty freeing. Among my dorm girls, I’ve got 3 that are Korean, 1 that is Swedish, 1 that is Kenyan, 1 that is Korean-Ugandan, 1 from Burundi, and the rest are Americans that have primarily grown up in the bush in a variety of other African countries, such as Mozambique and Rwanda and Ethiopia. They don’t know what the “Gap” is. They’re still listening to Christian pop songs from the early 2000’s, and don’t care. They know the true taste of good coffee! They know the real names for passion fruit, and their taste buds are more mature than many here. They know how to pack light. They are expert travelers, and don’t flinch when an issue comes up with their passport. They share their clothes freely, and leave them behind easily. They speak other languages, and can pull out multiple African accents in the blink of an eye. They have had more experiences in their young adult lives with security issues than I have ever even imagined – and believe me, it goes well beyond simply having a little can of pepper spray on their key chain! Their drawers are filled with chocolates from all over the world that taste better than any American brand I’ve tried. And, they cut their own hair, and do their own pedicures and manicures, and re-invent the wheel every day with their outfits. They can draw more beautifully than many professional pieces of artwork I’ve seen being sold in American stores. They don’t need as much sleep as I do, because they are used to working hard, studying long hours, and going for long amounts of time without sleep, from their childhood years of long car trips across miles of African terrain. They are, quite simply, amazing human beings!
What makes being a minority so interesting? I suppose it’s mentally refreshing. It’s envigorating to not know all the answers. And, more than anything, it’s humbling. It has taught me that the “American way” is not the only way, or the best, or even the most logical. And, while I’ll always be a proud American, it’s been such an eye-opening experience to allow what’s “normal” to be totally redefined.