Hard to believe it, but today marks the halfway point of my study abroad program in Kenya. Looking back across October and September, the time has flown by. Seems like just yesterday I was smooching a giraffe and marveling at the fact that I was in Africa.
They (they being the authorities on study abroad?) say that adjusting to a new culture involves an initial period of excitement: the honeymoon stage. I think that’s where I was during the giraffe visit and on my initial tours of the city.
The next stage of adjustment is where culture shock strikes with full force. It brings a lot of frustration and confusion. I certainly didn’t skip this stage. After the initial couple weeks where Nairobi was new and exciting, Nairobi became...well, dirty and dangerous. I walked to school with a scowl on my face, resenting the calls of “mzungu”, wrinkling my nose at the trash littering the sidewalks, and sullenly swallowing mounds of rice. I dreaded the long-winded, seemingly pointless lectures that native Kenyans were keen to deliver.
Thankfully, this stage was not permanent. I eventually moved on to what is considered the understanding stage. I began to understand the fact that I was a visitor in another culture. I'm in a culture where it’s perfectly normal to single someone out for his or her skin color, and it’s a culture facing problems a lot bigger than dirty streets. Kenyan culture includes a lot of white rice, and Kenyan people don’t always deliver short, to-the-point messages.
They say that the final stage of adjustment is acclimation. I think I’m currently in this stage; while I still get frustrated, I have learned to laugh at many situations that would have angered me earlier.
To illustrate, I'll share an experience I had this past Saturday. I visited the local Maasai market, where vendors sell African bags, scarves, carvings, jewelry…everything African you can imagine, really. And at Maasai Marker, white skin=high prices. No worries though; I had fun haggling with the aggressive venders in broken Kiswahili, and I managed to snag some goods for decent prices.
Anyway, on to the part that would have horrified me earlier in my stages of cultural adjustment. I was carrying a backpack with me and had stuffed a banana in the sidepocket for later. As I tried to convince a persuasive salesman that no, in fact, I did not want to buy a tribal mask for 5000 shillings, he noticed the bruised banana in my backpack. “Ndizi?” he said (banana in Kiswahili).
Eyeing the sad banana that I knew I would throw away, I perked up at the chance of a trade. I took it from my bag; he grabbed it from me. I held my hand out for the mask; he handed me…a keychain. And asked for 100 shillings to supplement the banana. I couldn’t help but laugh at the entire interaction. In the end, I declined the keychain and walked away with my 100 shillings…but I left behind my banana and a little of my pride. Ah, the culture of Kenya.
