Ah, but to wander aimlessly

Lane by our house where even a wandering muzungu is welcome to walk

One of my favorite ways to discover and enjoy a city is on foot. I love to walk. And it’s nice to mingle with the crowds and city activity at a strolling pace.

Unfortunately, as a white person in Nairobi, walking about is pretty much out of the question. It is considered far too unsafe.  To walk about as a white person is seen to be setting yourself up as a target for theft or further troubles.

This is in spite of the fact that you see Kenyans walking everywhere. Cars are prohibitively expensive for the vast majority. There’s no public transportation. There are small private buses, called matatus, which many people use to get around. They are generally very crowded and infamous for their dangerous driving habits. This is not unlike many other parts of the world – certainly it was our experience with “combi” drivers in Peru. But even the matatus are too pricey for lots of people.

So they walk.

Some walk hours each day to get to work and back. Even small children walk long distances to go to school. They walk rain or shine – both of which are highly common here. They put up with the dust and mud and passing vehicles that rarely cede the right of way.

Other than in the downtown area, known as the central business district (or CBD), there aren’t many sidewalks. So, people walk along the side of the roads. The paths are uneven, and frequently treacherous – with holes in unexpected places, various obstacles, and sometimes very little space separating the pedestrians from the passing traffic.

In our part of the city, the roads are windy and narrow. They make their way through lovely hills and valleys, across a surprising patchwork of residential constructions and urban agriculture. The median strips, the edges of roads, and the creek valleys are lined with small patches of corn, potato, beans, and cabbage. Garden plants are displayed for sale, and people will tell you that the area used to be covered with coffee plantations.

It’s very pretty and lush. But unless I am driving, it is considered out of bounds, because I am a mzungu. Mzungu is the term used here for white people. It is said to be derived from the Swahili word “zungu” meaning to wander aimlessly – or confusedly, according to some definitions.

So, you’ll note the ironic discrepancy between being named for being an aimless wanderer yet  prohibited from wandering aimlessly because of being a mzungu.

I talked about this with our housekeeper and day guard the other afternoon. I was sharing with them the fact that I regret not being able to walk places. They both looked at me incredulously. One of them voiced what they were both thinking: “Why would you want to walk when you can go anywhere you want with your car?” 

That was sobering.

It’s hard to justify to someone who cannot even dream of every having a car, why as a car owner there are times when you’d really rather walk. 

I didn’t try.  It seemed that any explanation I might offer could come out as trite, disrespectful, or just utterly naïve.

Have I completely given up on my penchant for aimless wandering? Not quite.  I’ve folded to local ways, finding and using the spots that are considered okay for walking: our immediate neighborhood, the well-patrolled Karura Forest, and places outside of town, where hiking is allowed and the threat of robbers, brigands, or large carnivores is minimal.