Nairobi

Most of the guidebooks warn about the high crime rate, which is why Nairobi is also called Nairobbery. Don’t wear jewellery! Don’t carry a handbag! Don’t take photos! Don’t walk down certain streets alone if you’re a woman! But! Careful! These! Streets! Change!

The Kenyans laugh about it, but take me by the hand as gently and lovingly as young parents. Pick me up at the hotel, accompany me to lunch, take me back to the hotel and the entire time I am trying hard to listen in English, to answer in English, to not look like a tourist and not look like a stupid white woman a black man smiled at, as if I cannot remember my way. And think to myself: oh, my, it’s about time I learn to do that on my own. A baby!

It is, however, also not easy. The Kenyans say: of course you can drive to the Ngong Hills, it’s no problem, while whites tell about a friend who was there with her husband and were robbed. The Kenyans say: you can walk down the streets of Nairobi alone, maybe not at night, though. Whites say: I’ve had a knife held to my throat here in broad daylight. The baby swallows and hopes to grow up soon.

On the second day of my life – in Nairobi – at least my confidence that I will grows. The Kenyans are the best parents for the job; full of humour and warm heartedness.

Swahili of the Day: Asante means thank you.