Culture Shock in Africa: What a Difference 24 Hours Makes
Monday, December 26th, 2005Between Lonely Planet, travel urban legends and my co-worker Donovan, I had a healthy dose of paranoia upon arriving in Nairobi, Kenya. True fear, however, set in when I stepped out of the sanctuary known as the baggage terminal and into the chaos of ‘arrivals’. Touts immediately descended upon me, crowing about rides, phones and the ubiquitous African boyfriend.
I powered by way through them, swinging my bag, eyes anxiously scanning for a sign that read Nairobi International Youth Hostel. Unfortunately, there was no sign and no relief from my ‘new friends’. In order to fend off the wolves for a little while longer, I worked my way toward the ATM. Panic began to set in when I discovered my bankcard didn’t work at the only ATM at the airport – and the most popular chain in Africa.
Ok, I rationalized. You can worry about the money later. Just get to the hostel. As I was steeling myself for the upcoming taxi fare negotiation, I noticed a man with a rolled up piece of paper with the name of the hostel. Yeah!
The taxi ride was uneventful, but the hostel reminded me of those 1950s government buildings with plain, austere designs. It boasted few bathrooms, crammed rooms and a kitchen that consisted of a hot plate and a well-worn refrigerator. I was not impressed.
My room contained around 16 beds, and was single sex. This was a relief, especially when I learned that travelers don’t stay at the Nairobi International Youth Hostel – residents do. Those from Kenya (90%) were traditional dancers who went to work at a cultural center every day. The rest were long-term volunteers.
Unfortunately, hostels tend of have a division between residents and those passing through. Although the Kenyans were polite and made extraordinary efforts to introduce themselves (probably thinking I was soon to be another resident), in my hyper-sensitive state, the last thing I wanted was a 20-year-old asking if he could have my phone number to call me.
The bathrooms were another challenge. Water at the hostel is hit and miss – and definitely more ‘miss’. It’s only on for a few hours a day, which means that you can only flush a toilet a few times as well. After a few hours have passed, the heat makes the stench gag-worthy. Additionally, the light did not work in the women’s bathroom – which meant either hauling up buckets of water from the kitchen for a scrub down in the dark, or passing on my much-desired shower. I decided that bed would be better option.
Of course, sleep tends to be elusive when residents talk freely, their friends wander in and out, and the lights aren’t turned off until well past one. I also received my first mosquito bite. Wonderful.
You could say I was something of a mess when I staggered out of bed.
However, after shaking out the cobwebs, getting my bearings and spending a day exploring the city in the custody of two very friendly and knowledgeable Kenyans, my fears subsided. I realized that not everyone in the city was out to scam me, that Nairobi was not a bad place to spend a day or two, and that I was beginning to enjoy Kenya.
Arriving in any city halfway around the world is a big shock to the system. However, one day can make a world of difference. For those arriving in Africa, keep your head, get your bearings, and prepare to take in an amazing culture.