It actually seemed like only a few days had passed since I had left Tajikistan – and those of you who were with me there, and who saw me immediately afterwards, know how hard it was to say goodbye to Dushanbe – before I was boarding yet another plane back to Kenya, and my feeling was that I hadn’t given myself enough time in between. I was still suffering from some serious reverse culture shock – not to mention severe and extended jet lag – and to be honest, as I sat at the gate at Newark Airport, I didn’t quite feel ready for yet another adventure. Which isn’t to say I wasn’t looking forward to returning to Kenya. It only took me about two days after my last return from Nairobi (almost exactly one year ago) to start searching for a way back. So I took off with pretty mixed emotions about the semester ahead.
My two weeks in the US were a lot rougher than I was expecting. I arrived in DC overwhelmed by everything from the highway to the grocery store, and while I was thrilled to be around my friends again, a lot of me was only wishing to be back in Tajikistan. Central heating blew my mind. When I got home, I had a few of the most hectic ever trying to cram Christmas preparations into the three days left, visited grandparents, and was visited by other grandparents, all while trying to see everyone and do (and eat) everything I’d missed over the past four months. When I was sent out to buy soup and crackers (with no other instructions), the rows and rows and rows and rows of soup left me standing open mouthed in the aisle of the grocery store for a couple minutes, until someone asked what he could help me with. Who knew soup could be so debilitating?
I had kind of assumed that arriving in Kenya would feel a lot like returning to a place I was used to – something more like what I had grown accustomed to in the fall; after all, my first thought upon my arrival in Dushanbe was that it smelled like Nairobi. And as I had already been to Kenya, I wasn’t expecting such a period of adjustment. As it turns out, Kenya’s not as much like Tajikistan as I remember.
For one thing, say what you will about the Soviets, but Dushanbe has paved sidewalks – at least along the two main streets, which is where the majority of walking near cars happens anyway. It’s taking me some time to get used to just hugging the side of the (dirt) road as I walk to school to avoid the cars driving by on any and every side of the road (this Kenya and Tajikistan share). In terms of buildings and houses, most of Dushanbe seems more developed than most of Nairobi (oh those Soviets…). Dushanbe doesn’t have the hastily constructed homes that the majority of Nairobi lives in, nor does it really have the fruit and vegetable stands or tiny wooden stores that sell things like phone cards, soda, chips etc. (with a few exceptions, but even these seem significantly sturdier than Nairobi’s). On the other hand, Kenya also has some huge department stores, malls, and grocery stores that Tajikistan does not. While a lot of shopping in Kenya is from these little stands, and the markets, the country also has Uchumi and Nakumatt, huge Wal-Mart sized grocery stores that are sometimes multiple levels and sell anything you could ever need or want. Vahdat, a small grocery store near my house in Dushanbe, just doesn't compare. Things in Kenya are either tiny stands or huge supermarkets; Dushanbe doesn't really have either of these.
Kenyans are different as well. Apart from the whispers of “mzungu, mzungu!” the people I pass on the street tend to be friendly, warm, and helpful. While some of this might have to do with the fact that they speak English – and assume I do, too – I never really felt like the people on the streets of Dushanbe were ever looking to extend a greeting beyond “devichka!” In my last post I talked about our drop off in Naivasha – when we were left alone in the small town and told to find directions and meet up again in two hours – and again, as nervous as I was beforehand, I found that most people were thrilled to help me find my way, often engaging me in conversation even before I could ask.
On the other hand, Nairobi is the busy city that Dushanbe just is not. There are buildings here that taller than all those in Dushanbe could be if they stood on top of each other. Walking through the city to grab a matatu after getting off the USIU bus in the afternoon is an exercise in agility as we try to wind in and out of the solid wall of people and cars. Crossing the street on the way to the office (Kenya friends, you know what I’m talking about: right before we cross under the bridge) is nearly impossible, at least until the traffic is backed up to the point that all cars must stop, and we can (somewhat) safely weave through them. I won’t pretend that Dushanbe doesn’t have its difficult roads to cross, but the number of cars there is negligible, compared to Nairobi. And while we’re talking about traffic, some days it can take two hours to get across the city on the way home from school. The only traffic jam I ever saw in Dushanbe was when it snowed and trees were falling down all over the city. So getting used to the Nairobi roads is going to take some time. For now, they stress me out.
And then aside from all of that, the programs here and in Tajikistan are completely different. In Tajikistan, living with my wonderful host family, immersing myself in Tajik culture was effortless. I ate Tajik food every night, lived in a Tajik house according to Tajik lifestyle. I learned the language and spoke it whenever I was home. Here, however, immersion is an active process. I am living with a group of American students, in beautiful apartments definitely designed for the wealthy minority of Nairobi (and more likely, for foreign diplomats and expats and their families). Two of my four classes are with only AU students, and while the others are with mostly Kenyans, the classes are taught in English, in what appears (after only a week, so I may be prematurely judging this) to be an American style. I’m not saying I’d rather spend the next three months in Kibera, but I’m not really feeling the integration that was such an important part of the Tajikistan program. Hopefully, this will change once we start our internships in two weeks.
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