After three days in Nairobi I’ve realized that the hardest part of writing this blog will not be finding interesting information, but filtering that information into a few stories and experiences that can convey a meaningful lesson or story. I’ve never been to Africa before, and I’m sure that is true for many people reading this blog. Therefore, to me even mundane daily experiences seem like exotic adventures. I wrote in a personal journal after my first full day in Nairobi, and I found myself writing down almost every single activity of the day. Simple things such as my first shower in Africa, driving around Nairobi, eating lunch with Holy Cross Priests, and even watching the news at night with the Holy Cross Brothers and Seminarians all seem like groundbreaking events. Instead boring you with these details, I’ll try to talk about things that have really had an impact in my first two days in Africa.
The Brotherhood of Villa Maria Alive in Africa
Arriving at the Holy Cross dormitory in Nairobi on Saturday night reminded me very much of arriving at the University of Portland as a freshman. I did not know any of the people whom I would be living with, I was in an unfamiliar environment, and I wasn’t sure how to move forward and make friends. And, just like at UP, it was the kind and welcoming spirit of the community that made me feel a sense of belonging. The first night every person in the common room made a point of shaking my hand and welcoming me to their home. I was overwhelmed with twenty names to learn and unsure about how to behave socially, but I felt like my presence in the community was welcomed and appreciated.
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| The Holy Cross Compound outside Nairobi. |
Since that first night, my experience with the brothers of the Holy Cross has been nothing less than spectacular. Each night I have stayed up late talking with a brother or seminarian about Africa, America, or other random conversation topics that arise. The first night I talked to Agga, a boisterous man from Kakamega whose nickname is “Voo Voo Zella,” after the annoying horns that played constantly during the World Cup in South Africa. True to his name, Agga is loud, loves to talk and tell stories, and is laughing and loving life at almost every moment. He told me stories about Kakamega, his home, and about his experience as a child in primary school. Later in the evening I talked to Vincent, a Holy Cross seminarian, about why people from the West want to come to Africa. He challenged me, asking why I came and what my purpose was here in Africa. We both agreed that many people come with false ideas of what Africa will be like, and they are unprepared for the reality and the culture shock. Again and again, members of the Holy Cross community here in Nairobi have reached out to make me feel welcome and at home as a member of their community. They are Ugandan, Tanzanian, Ghanaian, Kenyan, and from many other countries, but they share the belief that guest should be welcome and appreciated.
A Sunday In Dandora
Seldom in my life do I feel like I have had such a productive and formative Sunday morning. I had my first experience in an African slum, my first Catholic mass in Africa, and my first time speaking in front of a group of Africans, all before noon.
It started the night before, when Father Pasquel invited me to Sunday mass at the Holy Cross Parish in the Dandora Slum of Nairobi. After a quick 7:00am breakfast of tea and toast, we left for Dandora, about an hour away. In Nairobi, it seems that the quality of the road is very strong indicator of the quality of the surroundings. Driving through the developed areas of Nairobi, the roads were well maintained and clean. As we got closer to Dandora, pot-holes of varying sizes started to appear in the roads, and we had to weave through crowds of pedistrians, bus-taxis, and other commuters along the side of the road. Instead of the tall hotels and office buildings of downtown Nairobi, the road was lined with small booths made of wood and metal sheets whose owners were selling various types of goods and apparel.
For the most part, the conditions in the Dandora slum were better than I expected. Because it was Sunday, most people walking were very well dressed to attend mass at one of the churches in the area. This gave Dandora a clear and refined look, even though the roads and the buildings were in poor shape. After driving through Dandora for five minutes, we came to a sharp right turn, and the roadway because impassable to the point where we had to drive up on the sidewalk to continue our journey. These conditions were caused by a huge landfill stretching from the left side of the road as far as I could see. At first it appeared only to be a large pile of plastic and other debris adjacent to the road. As we got closer, I noticed that a narrow string of piles stretched into the distance. Both local birds and individuals were scattered throughout various piles, picking through the trash in search of valuable or edible items. The stench near the landfill was quite intense, and the air seemed to be so thick that taking a breath became am exercise of will. A haze hung over these piles of waste and garbage, and I was amazed that people could live and function so close to such a site. As quick as it has come, we were past the landfill and driving deeper into Dandora.
(I'm sorry, but I did not take any pictures in Dandora. It was my first full day in Africa, and I did not feel comfortable taking pictures and looking like even more of an outsider).
Catholic Mass At Dandora
Two things left a deep impression in my mind while visiting Dandora, and both were evident in the Mass that I attended at the Holy Cross Parish. The first was the sharp discrepancy between rich, well-maintained areas and poor, neglected parts of Dandora. Adjacent to the gleaming church and it’s manicured grounds were derelict shanties and other signs of deep poverty. I am still struggling to grasp how to things in such contrast to one another can coexist in such close proximity. At the same time, the people who made homes of these shacks were immaculately dressed in their Sunday best. I saw button-down dress shirts, dress pants, suits, beautiful dresses, and many other kinds of dress clothing that would easily out-class the average Sunday mass crowd in the United States. Yet these were people who were living in areas poorer than almost anything that exists in the United States. I have noticed since that this kind of discrepancy between rich and poor is common in Nairobi, and it leaves me feeling quite unsettled. I wonder how individuals can reconcile such a difference and continue to go about their daily lives.
The other main thing that impressed me about Dandora was the beauty and passion of the mass and the inhabitants of the area. There was a noticeable lack of despair in the slum. Instead of complaining or giving up hope, the people of Dandora seemed to embrace their life and smile and laugh through their poverty. The mass itself was a spectacle of beauty and spirit. The choir, comprised of 20 men and 20 women, left me and the 400 mass-goers no choice but to accompany them in singing (when possible), clapping and dancing as they filled the large hall of the church with hypnotic harmonies and rhythms. I’ve never heard singing of such force and passion. Through the song I felt the strong community of the Dandora area, and of the Kenyan people.I don't really know how to explain it, but it was the strongest harmony I have ever heard. I wish that I knew Swahili and could accompany them in their praise and worship, but instead I simply clapped and swayed slightly to the rhythm of the songs, singing only to song where the words were repeated often enough for me to pick up the tune.
Also, the Catholic Mass was an example of the difficulties of trying to fit in as the only white person in a community. Near the end of the mass nine other visitors and I were called up to introduce ourselves to the parish and say where we were visiting from and why we were in Dandora. I couldn’t help but feeling foolish at the only white person surrounded by over 400 Africans. I managed a feeble “Habari Zenu” (Hello Everyone), and gave my name and explained that I was a student from the US and would be working for an NGO (Non-government organization) in Kakemega. I’ve never felt like such an outsider. I’ve also never experienced being a minority before I came to Africa, and certainly not to such an extreme degree.
So, After Three Days…
... I’m unsettled and confused about the disparity between poor and rich in Nairobi, thrilled to discover that Nairobi and the Holy Cross community is welcoming, excited for the chance to talk to more people and learn more about Kenya and Africa, and looking forward to my time here in Africa more than ever.
Tomorrow I am traveling to Kibera, the second largest slum in Africa. I give my reflection on that experience in my next post.