The View Behind the Electric Fence

Jambo and welcome to my Nairobi diaries! My arrival in Kenya has gone very well so far. A driver from my work picked me up at the airport and took me home to my apartment (the ‘electric fence apartment’ as some of you may recall from the brochure). If the pictures in the brochure looked nice, they were nothing compared to real life. The place is gorgeous, with thick Indian rugs, a luxurious bed, and a beautiful bathroom and kitchen. All newly renovated I might add! My favourite feature is the huge wardrobe – the entire contents of both my suitcases fill about 1/3 of the space, which is pretty much every girl’s dream.

The next morning, the same driver picked me up and drove me to work. As we drove down my street, I was shocked to see that almost every house (every gigantic mansion, I should say) is the house of a foreign ambassador. I live next door to the German ambassador. Across the street from us is the Belgian ambassador. The Italian ambassador lives a little up the street from him, and at the corner is the Australian ambassador (the sign for his place is hand-written on a piece of wood though, so I’m really not impressed by him). I am located in a VERY upscale neighbourhood, and it shows. Every house has gates and walls crowned with electric fences and razor wire. Every house also has several guard dogs. This has been an interesting experience as suddenly they will all begin barking like mad, then just as suddenly, stop. Every once in a while to change it up they all howl together. It sounds like a wolf pack on my doorstep and it never fails to make my hair stand on end. We have two guard dogs here at the electric fence apartment – Simba and Coco. Simba is a massive German Sheppard and Coco is a mutt, much smaller. Luckily for me, Simba is a big snuggler. Coco, however, is pretty scary and the guards usually keep him away when I go or come home from work. Oh, did I forget to mention the three 24 hr security guards who staff the compound of the electric fence apartment? I actually am quite fond of the security guards. They all wear navy uniforms with red trim and a small hat. I always make a point of saying good morning or good afternoon and giving them a big smile so now every time I leave or come home they salute me. My landlady tells me one of them is Maasai – ‘the fair one’, she said. Well, they all look pretty dark to me. Maybe I will figure it out in time. I would very much like to talk to him about being Maasai but unfortunately I don’t know the names of any of the servants.

Yes, we have servants here at the electric fence apartment. Ten servants, actually. Three security guards, two gardeners, a cook, a maid, a driver, a maintenance person, and the maid of another person living on the property. Yesterday I had tea with the landlady, who told me this. The landlady took it upon herself to explain ‘how things are’ in Kenya. I can’t say I’m a huge fan of ‘how things are’. Firstly, I simply cannot adjust to the concept of servants. What are you picturing right now – a large black woman in a uniform trimmed with lace coming in to serve us tea, perhaps? You would be completely correct. The servants are not to be addressed and I have been told not to make friends with them as it becomes a huge nuisance (apparently they start asking you for money or neglecting their duties or something). The whole situation is extremely awkward and I hate it. I want to be that person that breaks down the class barrier and makes friends but I am starting to see now that it just doesn’t work like that. It is uncomfortable for both sides because it is ‘unnatural’. So I accept that this is the way things are. I will still attempt to learn everyone’s name though – to me that is the least I can do.

When you come to Kenya for the first time, you learn very quickly about security. All sorts of security – security to keep robbers out of your home, security to keep the servants from stealing your belongings, security when you ride in a vehicle, security when you are walking, security when you go to and from work, credit card security, etc. The first thing I did at work was attend a security briefing. The head of security at ICRAF is a former general in the Kenyan military who did two tours of duty in Darfur, so it's taken pretty seriously here. ICRAF has its own security office staffed 24/7, in addition to a privately contracted security firm on call. I was given 6 different numbers I could call in case of emergency. As you can imagine, it left me slightly uneasy. When I came home that day, my landlord also gave me a security briefing. He showed me how all my windows have bars on them, and how to pull a metal grill over my door which I can padlock when I leave. He showed me how I can lock all my belongings in the desk or wardrobe and recommended I do so as the servants ‘simply cannot be trusted’.

As a Canadian coming from a very safe city with a much smaller income disparity, my first inclination was to take all of this with a grain of salt. Obviously everyone cautions the single white female about security when she first arrives in Kenya, right? I don’t really have to take different routes to work to ensure people don’t follow me..right? I don’t actually have to lock myself into my apartment at night..right? Then the stories started. Horrible, graphic stories exchanged casually over lunch with a group of middle aged expats from Britain and Germany. I don’t want to repeat them here. Suddenly my electric fence apartment looked pretty good to me. Maybe we should add one more guard dog?

I am trying very hard not to become a prisoner in my own house because I know you have to accept some element of risk and continue to live your life. It has become very daunting though. Adding to this is my utter lack of transport (my suggestion to buy a bike was shot down as being too dangerous, what a surprise). There are local ‘buses’ called matatus – essentially speeding, erratically driven minivans crammed with people, but I have been too chicken to try them yet. Although I did see a white person get out of one this morning so perhaps there is hope for me. I have to take the matatu to work next week so expect a blog post devoted to that adventure. Anyway, thanks to a friend in my Masters program I connected with another Canadian girl who lives in town! An aside – I really like that going downtown is referred to here as ‘going into town’. Anyway, most people I worked with told me to avoid the place altogether but she is determined to show me it is safe so we will be meeting there on Saturday (check back for details, I’m sure it will be very exciting).

In short, my first few days in Nairobi have been both intriguing and slightly depressing. There is so much to learn and I feel overwhelmed most of the time, but I hope I will get a feel for things soon. I’m glad I can share these experiences and check back again soon for more!