The "Real" Nairobi

On friday I got a chance to experience two contrasting sides of Nairobi - the hub of most things going on in East Africa. In the morning I traveled with Cornel to visit the Kenyan immigration department and the NGO Board, both housed in modern office buildings with plenty of westerners inside and Land Cruisers outside. This is the part of Nairobi that people point to as the future of Africa - modern buildings and hospitals, manicured gardens, internationally-known hotels - but it's definitely not indicative of the entire city. With a few hours to kill before picking up some forms from the NGO board, Cornel offered to take me on a tour through the "real" Nairobi.

We walked about 45 minutes from the city center to an area known as the Kikomba market. The first portion of the market that we reached consisted of vendors set up along the road next to the huge long-distance bus station - most of them were selling clothes or food out of the back of a pick-up truck to people fighting their way onto huge busses stacked high with bags and boxes on the roof. Moving past this area, the streets gave way to paths and all automotive traffic disappeared. Looking from a ways down the street, all you could see was a moving mass of people, and that's just what it felt like while winding between the stacks of clothes and goods laid out on the ground and the rivers of people moving between them, listening to the touts calling out sales and special prices. This portion of the market was a giant open area, but we soon moved further into a section of covered shops with tiny footpaths between them. Each shop consisted of a raised wooden platform piled high with either second-hand clothes brought from western countries or goods made by the sellers, with corrugated tin or clothe roofs overlapping between the shops, cutting out most of the sunlight. Apparently this is the place where you can get cooking utensils, farming needs, or other tools for the best price - directly from those who manufacture them on a small scale. The paths between each shop were only a foot or two wide, and the stones were worn smooth from the crowds of people that pass through the dark maze every day. All of this creates essentially the exact opposite of an American Wal-mart in just about every way!

The final part of the market we visited is knows as the "fish den." The reason for this name became immediately clear as we rounded a corner to see men carrying huge baskets of fish and stacking them in mounds for women to sell. The first thing that hit me was the smell - an overpowering mix of fresh fish, deep-fried fish, and rotting fish - definitely not a smell that would make me want to buy dinner! All around were pots of oil on stoves where sellers fried smaller fish whole or cut larger ones into sections, frying them and laying them out on tables where buyers and flies battled for the choicest pieces. I was confused by the strange look of the ground in this area, until i figured out that the whole place was covered by a layer of dried fish scales - crazy! Undeterred by the smell, the flies, the heat, or the fact that he wouldn't be home for at least 5 hours, Cornel decided to go ahead and buy some fried fish to take home for dinner that night - he put the pieces in his laptop bag and carried them around the rest of the day, including our meeting with the NGO board, during which I couldn't help but notice the distinct smell of fish in the modern office...

I've been to markets in other developing countries around the world, but the Kikomba market was especially overwhelming. I think part of the reason for that was the enormous size - we covered only a tiny section - and part was the extreme minority in which I found myself. We walked for close to three hours through a constant crowd of people, and I didn't see a single other white person. As I grow to understand this culture better through spending more time here and hearing more and more stories, I think I am also growing in my ability to understand the people. Maybe that's another reason why Kikomba had a strong effect on me - when I see the women selling little piles of carrots or the men carrying huge baskets of fish, I can understand a little of the bigger picture - where those goods come from, the expectations on the sellers from their families, the hardships faced by the people in all areas of the country, the challenges that come along with making a living in this way. I've never had this sort of understanding as a tourist or on a mission trip, and I'm thankful for the way it's helping me to see this place every day.