COURTNEY: An excerpt from Courtney’s journal: Day 6

I am currently sitting in the middle of a busy roundabout in Nairobi, Kenya- cars whizzing on both sides honking loudly and glaring at us as if we can actually miraculously will our stalled taxi to move. Our taxi driver Robert, a shorter man with a stockier build than most Kenyans and wide expressive features, is sighing and clutching the steering wheel exclaiming, “I can’t believe this. She has NEVER let me down.” I am slightly smiling now at how attached he seems to be to this ancient grey beaten up car with more dents than I can count. I was in this thought when I realized that despite the look of the exterior, Robert has clearly taken care of what counts- the interior. Actually, I think to myself, the car seats are very clean and the fabric looks fairly new for Kenyan standards. Perhaps I like the car because it fits Robert- nothing fancy on the exterior but eyes that show the honesty and a smile that shows the kindness of his interior.

Yesterday Matt and I sat at our kitchen table and scribbled out a handwritten contract to hire Robert as our driver all summer. This is what Robert said he needed, a contract. Bless his soul that he believes that strongly in Kenyan courts. Robert looked at us from across the table and blushed, immediately dropping his head and nervously squirming in his seat as Matt and I looked at him with our best poker faces and proposed a summer salary. Kenyans don’t like to talk money, at least not with White people. Matt proposed 70,000 shillings. Robert blushed again and mumbled, “yes, I mean, I guess..yes..i guess that will be fine.” He looked at me with big eyes. I nudged Matt and suggested 75. So much for my ability to bargain. As soon as we signed the deal I knew he’d won by the joyful smile that spread across his face. Oh well. We trust him and that’s what matters.

Now there is a mechanic filling our tank with gas- a mechanic that just happened to be on the side of the road holding tools and came running to our rescue when the car started whining and slowed to a stop. Robert looks at us with a smirk and says, “they are always there- praying that bad things will happen to you so that they get some business.” Apparently, this is not a rare occurrence, and I guess OnStar hasn’t reached Kenya yet. The gas didn’t do the trick, and they are back to fiddling with the engine.

It is now close to 7pm. We were supposed to be picked up from our office at 5pm. We stood on the front steps for nearly an hour waiting for Robert to arrive- he was late because they shut down the roads while the President and Prime Minister drove through. This is exactly the kind of thing that would usually irritate me- being picked up an hour late and now sitting for 45 minutes in a stalled car. Pollution was sticking to my skin and stinging my eyes. Normally I would be sitting in despair just waiting to take a hot shower and rinse the day off. Instead, I am energized. I have a warm feeling that surrounds my heart- I think I am actually starting to love this backwards city. I wonder what brought this on, and I know the answer. Today Matt (for those of you who know him will know that this is typical) learned Swahili. I am not kidding. The IT guy that sits next to us in the workspace KCA University has kindly lent us, a tall lanky younger man with a great smile and a trademark giggle named Dan, took Matt on as disciple of the Swahili language. Now Matt, in one day, probably knows more Swahili than I do Spanish despite my 3 month run in Costa Rica several years ago. Some things are just not fair.

Anyway, its not just that Matt learned some Swahili that warmed my heart, it was the reaction I saw from the Kenyans Matt attempted to speak Swahili with. I saw it first in the elevator. She was probably about my age- a dainty Kenyan woman huddled against the back of the elevator eyeing us suspiciously. It was this look, the one she gave us, that always made me feel like going home…like they wanted us to go home. And then Matt spoke. He looked at the woman pulling out his pad of chicken scratch from the lessons Dan had given him and concocted some sentence with large gestures..something probably as simple as, “We learn Swahili. We are going home. Perfect.” Then her face changed- shyness and suspicion disappeared and a huge beautiful smile took its place. I mean really beautiful. She laughed out loud, corrected a few of Matt’s mistakes, and walked out with an extra bounce in her walk looking back at us and waving goodbye as she exited the elevator. Is that all it takes I wondered? Matt proceeded to chat it up with the doormen, the secretaries, and then random strangers on the street with the same produced effect every time, a huge smile and even sometimes a high five or a pat on the back followed by that addictive Kenyan giggle. And that was it. It was like I’d seen Kenya for the first time even though this was my second trip to the country. I’d finally seen the real face of the people walking by me every day.

I just heard the engine purr to life. Robert is back in his seat apologizing profusely to us and handing the mechanic some cash for his services. The mechanic doesn’t move and keeps his hand wide open. Robert looks at him sternly and the mechanic gives his best angelic smile saying, “I am a good Samaritan. I came to help you.” I realized I was watching an authentic Kenyan business transaction take place. Robert laughs and hands him some more change. We are off again and Robert looks nervous about how we will react to the incident. Matt says something in Swahili, and Robert smiles widely. He helps Matt with his Swahili until we reach our apartment, giggling with delight the whole way.