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Health & Fitness

Journey into Kenya

Journey Into Kenya

 

Stevie, with a bright smile stood with a large contingent of Kenyans just outside baggage claim at the Nairobi International Airport.  Along with his smile a piece of cardboard with my name scribbled across the backside.  I smiled and pointed toward him in a gesture of friendship.  We connected immediately, Gumbo—Gumbo, Hello—Hello, shaking hands we headed to the rain soaked darkness outside the airport.  We made light conversation about the cooler than normal weather in Nairobi and I am not sure if he was happier to make connection with me or me with him but it was a positive first meeting.  

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 We walked together into the dark parking area, which by American standards is little more than a traffic jam but is understood by the Kenyans.  We approached an older light blue Toyota that must have had 300,000-400,000 miles and several mishaps in its life.   Several Kenyans stood talking at the back of the car, one calls out that he likes how I dress.  After 17 hours on an airplane and knowing that he was just being friendly, I responded, “Thanks.”  Then he told Stevie to put my luggage in the back seat, I could see that the trunk wasn’t in any shape to be opened and from their conversation I also understood the man was the car owner—not Stevie. 

 

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I tossed my luggage in the back seat and slumped into the front passenger seat--that would be the driver side in the States.  The car ran relatively well compared to its looks and on occasion the windshield wipers spread evenly the rain beads across the windshield.  Stevie and I took turns wiping condensation from the inside of the windshield, I think he was doing it so I could see and I was so he could.   

 

Driving on the left side of the road will never be comfortable for me.  I am continuously swerving in my seat to miss oncoming cars which I assume are on the wrong side of the road.  This I did frequently as we exited and entered expressways and Stevie drove on the left hand side of the road.

 

We swerved in and out of traffic wiping the inside of the windshield and squinting to see through the rainwater that collected between the occasional swipe of the wiper blades that had long outlived their original intent.  As we made our way to the Hotel Panafric Sarova we talked about where I lived and how Stevie’s hope in life was to visit the States.  Our thoughts regarding black and white people emerged and we both agreed that neither of us asked to be the race or color we were and Stevie added, “All of our blood is red.”   We meandered around traffic circles, swerving to miss wayward vehicles, and into and out of traffic congestion as we solidified our mutual understanding about race.    

 

Stevie led our conversation back to him visiting the States and his interest and emotions peaked.  It would be a dream come true for him!  He was so inquisitive as to where I lived and what part of the States Georgia is located--the weather, the terrain, and the people that live there.  This is typical for how most all of my driver’s conversations end up—how they want to visit the States sometime during their life.  I always tell them that they are most welcome to visit somehow knowing that the resources to do so may never come their way. 

 

The Hotel Panafric Sarova sits on higher terrain above the roadway.  The access to the entrance drive is through an adjacent service station.   It is an entrance one would need a working knowledge of to find.  Up a steep slope to tire slashing spikes imbedded in the roadway, a traffic control arm, and a security station.  Stopping and greeting the guard Stevie is issued a card for entry and exit. 

 

Parking under the portico, we are greeted by five attendants.   A quick scan with the hand held metal detector and in my luggage goes to the hotel lobby.  Before I reach the reception desk I am handed a hot towel and a glass of warm green tea, both of which are refreshing to a weary traveler.  The attendants remember me from my previous visit as I did them.   They all seem to love and cherish their jobs and enjoy the visitors—especially those who tip well.

I have grown to appreciate cultures that differ from my own—I do not judge them better or worse just different.  Acceptance is important and the friendships, although distant, are memorable and lasting.  It is my hope that more Americans will take advantage of the opportunities we are afforded through the ever expanding Global Marketplace. 

 

America is truly a blessed nation!  We have so many advantages over most others that we share this world with, yet, for the most part, these advantages go unrealized.  I am astonished at the missed opportunities and hope to share some of my experiences with others who may form a greater understanding of other parts of the world. 

 

My next post will take you deep into the countryside of Kenya and the many aspects of the people, the land, and the culture that most Americans never get to see.  Hope you join me for this “Journey into Kenya.”

 

 

 

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