So far I've discovered that Nairobi has at least one thing in common with Uppsala.
In neither one of them does it matter what you are wearing.
In Uppsala one could walk around in a chicken suit, and no-one would even look twice.
In Nairobi you can wear your dullest, most unprovoking everyday outfit, and you feel like a walking circus.
Our first encounter with the vibrant Eastern-African country of Kenya was a rather intense one. Even though the flight was quite undramatic and routine, intercontinental flying can have quite the effect on the mind and perception. So in a rather dazed and confused state myself and my loyal compadre; Nils took our first steps on the African continent. After having cleared the border control with freshly stamped passports we strolled confidently towards the exit, like one would normally do when one doesn't have goods to declare, ignoring the uniformed customs officers. Just as we passed them we were reached by a very loud and unmistakable "HELLO! YOU THERE! STOP!". Rather surprised and a little bit startled we walked up to the very strict-looking woman now staring at us.
"Do you have any electronics in the bag?" - she inquired in a very authoritarian way.
"Well, we have our computers in our backpacks, but not really anything apart from that..."
"What do you have in the big bags? Are you trying to smuggle electronics?" - she continued.
I've been accused of a variety of things in my life, but this was the first time someone had me as an electronics smuggler. As we explained that our bags were only containing the clothes that we intended to wear during our stay in Kenya she changed the focus of the interrogation.
"How long are you staying in Kenya?"
"For just under three months."
"THAT'S TOO LONG!" - She shouted and gave us a look that could kill. And then she waved as for us to go away.
A bit shocked and at the same time very relieved to be off the hook we could now enter into Nairobi and the quickly warming Kenyan day. Prior to the flight we had arranged for a dedicated taxi driver to wait for us outside the arrivals. After scanning the lot of eager chauffeurs and random bystanders outside the airport we could conclude that our man was not there. Not a huge issue since I had his cell phone number. It turned out though, that making conversation over the phone proved to be a bit difficult, mainly because the reception was like talking to someone in outer earth orbit. After repeating "excuse me" about 20 times I finally managed to make out that he was just nearby and trying to find a parking spot. So we stationed ourselves in the gazing sunlight by the sidewalk and waited. After waiting for some time without results I sent a text asking how he was doing. "Just wait a short while" was his answer. After waiting for 45 minutes I thought that a short while had probably passed, and by this time both me and Nils were starting to feel the previous 16 hours of traveling and lack of sleep, so I again enquired as to how things were progressing.
It turned out that he had been taken by the police. Not really for any particular reason more than "being in the wrong place at the wrong time". So they brought him to the nearby police station where he had to wait until he "payed up". After that he hasted back to the area outside the arrivals and we were able to meet and install ourselves and our luggage in his car. He was indeed a very friendly and chatty fellow, giving us a full lecture of Nairobi’s dos and don’ts as we pushed our way along the crowded highway leading into the city. The highway carried us just a couple of thousand meters before we were brought to an almost complete stand-still. In my mind an early Saturday morning in any city should mean an at least relatively smooth traffic situation. But it obviously turned out that my thoughts and perceptions of the concept of traffic did little to dissolve the clogged-up highway. So although we were just a tad too tired to engulf in all of the wisdom that he shared upon us, at least one thing did stick:
“In Nairobi you can NEVER predict the traffic!”
