Cultural difference, power and privilege (May 12, 2011)

            I woke up this morning to find myself in my very first full day in Kenya.  Another student, Megan, and I are staying with Dr. O and her son in their townhouse in Nairobi.  Dr. A Obeen nothing but accommodating since I arrived.  For dinner last night we had rice, chicken and carrots – and the carrots had far more flavor than anything I’ve ever made.  I’ve decided that I’ve got a thing or two to learn from Kenya cooking!  After chatting for a while, largely about Dr. O’s career as a lawyer and passion for gender equality issues (fascinating!), we called it a night.

        When I woke up this morning, I was the last one out of bed.  Megan was dressed and on her way out the door for a meeting with a contact in one of Nairobi’s slums.  Her goal is find out learn what type of NGO presence is currently there and to find out about volunteer opportunities.  Her invite to go with her brought to what is sure to be my first of many debates about learning experience vs safety.  I would have absolutely loved to have tagged along.  I am sure that it would have been an experience unlike anything I have ever experienced, however, I recognize that I am still completely naïve about the risks and safety precautions in my new environment – and let’s be honest, I’m pretty naïve in general!  I could see Warren and my parents in my mind and I could hear my promise to choose safety over adventure if the two were ever in conflict.  I decided to stay behind.  Instead, I had my first shower in several days and talked to Dr. O until her friend arrived to pick her and her son up at 11am.  This brings me to the discovery of my first interesting cultural difference: perception of time.

            Kenyan’s don’t make a habit of wearing wrist watches.  From what I can tell, an appointment time is a rough guideline, to be achieved within plus or minus two hours.  Dr. O’s friend was scheduled to pick her up at 9am, but rolled in shortly after 11.  When she called to find out where he was, she promptly informed him that through his tardiness, he had proven himself to be truly African.  When she hung up, she explained to me that when someone in Africa “keeps time” for their appointments, people jokingly refer to them as “Muzungus” (white people), but when you don’t keep time, you must be African.  Based on this, I feel that I should have been born African and my lack of ability to keep time should fit in just nicely here.

This picture was taken in Naivasha Town, the formal settlement on the lake.  It's not my crummy photography skills that make it blurry - this is a very dusty place!  It's a good thing we're analyzing what's in the dust, huh?

            On a completely unrelated note, something that I have found even more interesting than perceptions of time is my hesitation to discuss power and privilege.  I have always felt somewhat uncomfortable and guilty for the privilege that I was born into.  When I do talk about privilege and power, it’s usually with people who were born into the same privileged situation as me, so we’re like two guilty people discussing a crime, but without judging one another because we both share the same guilt (a little melodramatic perhaps, but that’s pretty close to how I feel!).  I’ve noticed over the past two days, however, that I am no longer as comfortable talking about this subject.  Yesterday, I was asked in front of a group of Kenyans if I had started to see the signs of a developing country.  The honest answer would have been that I did see differences.  Things I have seen in Kenya that I don’t often see in my own back yard include burnt out street lights, guarded neighbourhoods, broken glass on top of the clay walls that surround peoples’ homes to protect from intruders, potholes that make some of the larger potholes in London seem modest and overcrowding of cars and parking lots.  But I don’t yet feel comfortable admitting to the world that I haven’t seen most of this in my own country.  I’m a bit embarrassed by my privilege.  So, when people ask me about the signs of a developing country, I avoid the question.  This has led to my new personal goal for this trip: figure out a way to deal with my privilege, without simply pretending that it doesn’t exist.

            On a brighter note, I have noticed that there other differences that I am perfectly comfortable discussing, including the fact people are so friendly!  They smile at and engage in meaningful conversation with strangers.  This is so very refreshing.  What I have seen of Nairobi is also much greener than any of the big cities in Canada.  The trees and greenery are gorgeous.  I am told by Vincent’s cousin that these are not actually real trees.  If I want to see real trees, I will have to come and visit their home, where I will see what real Kenyan trees look like.  Vincent’s home looks beautiful in the pictures and his family seems absolutely charming.  I can hardly wait to visit!