It's a walking nation!

For the ones that have been reading my blog for some time, you have earlier read about how matatus, nissans and busses of all shapes, colours and decibel-levels crowd the streets and highways of Nairobi. Traffic jam is part of everyday life, just as are matatu accidents.

This past Monday and Tuesday, however, the situation was quite different. As some of you might have read in VG (http://mobil.vg.no/artikkel.php?artId=581371), all public transport-workers in Kenya decided to strike for these two days. The reason was that corrupt police officers keep forcing the drivers to bribe them, in order not to be arrested or taken off the road.

As most Kenyans cannot afford owning a private car or travelling by taxi, the result of the strike was that people took to their feet, leaving Nairobi resembling a giant anthill with people running up and down trying to keep on with their daily bussiness.

Two of these Nairobian-ants turned out to be Audhild and I. We had spent the night in Eastleigh, one of the estates neighbouring Mathare, and woke up to a full blown migrational movement outside the front door. As we needed to be back in Kasarani by 4 in the afternoon, we decided to join the masses of Kenyans on their apostle's horse journey to town, a walking distance of about one and a half hours, to get a taxi from there.

We were soon to realize that most wazungu in Kenya do NOT usually walk through the Eastlands by foot on a Monday afternoon. As we walk confidently down the crowded streets, people turned their heads, pointed and even laughed shamelessly at these walking whites: "Imagine, even the wazungu have to walk because of the strike!".

A friend of ours that was also going to town explained the situation: "People expect white people like you to be driven by private cars or safari busses. Wazungu never WALK in Kenya." According to him, we might even have ended up on the news if a camera crew had spotted us.

In some way or another, it always feels great when we defy the stereotypes of the wazungu and do things the way their are normally done in Kenya. Just by taking a matatu, buying mandazi at the local shop or taking a walk to town I feel  like I am changing the way Kenyans view us outsiders, slowly by slowly. The saddest part of it all is that there are way too many wazungu who actually contribute to the stereotypes that are there, travelling only by private cars, fearing any person they might meet on the streets and keeping to themselves in their safe expat-bubble.

I want to be different. I want to demonstrate by walk and talk that people are people no matter where they are from, and that wazungu by no means require special treatment.
When we finally arrived in town; tired, sweating and covered by urban dust, we got into a cab and paid way too much to be driven back to safe old Kasarani. I felt like a giant hypocrite, but at least we had taken part in the "walking nation".