Overseas Briefing

NAIROBI — In Kenya, staring is okay. Actually, it is welcomed. In the U.S., if you rest your eyes on a stranger for longer than the duration of a flash of lightening you risk being identified as a psychopath. You have to be stealth: sneak a glance, wait a second, steal another glimpse. But Kenyans have no qualms with tunnel vision. As I adjust to Kenya, I am learning to accept this staring policy.

I have a fascination with dreadlocks and here I have been able to stare at many entangled dreads. I now know that each dread is ripe with style - it has its own width, texture and angle. No two dreads are the same. I have also stared while full conversations unfolded. I now know that men in Kenya will openly embrace when they laugh or touch each other’s hand mid-conversation. There is no stigma associated with male-to-male touching.

Life feels more whimsical, free, and natural when eyes can linger. Imagine if you could sit in Proctor and just stare at people as they walked by … life would be a whole lot easier. You wouldn’t have to exhaust your eyeballs as you study the color of someone’s cool Keds, the tone of their voice and the intricate stitching of their retro-70’s hat. Now, when I say your eyeballs I don’t mean to be accusatory because I, too, am a major culprit of dancing eyes. I love people watching. And, in Kenya, the open staring policy allows me to notice and digest details of the culture.

Staring isn’t the only thing that is different in Kenya. So here are a few other Kenyan trends I’ve noticed:

It seems like all Kenyans have white teeth. I kid you not. Apparently the tooth fairy has cast a spell of whiteness on this population because everywhere I look, smiles glisten. Or, perhaps Kenyans just brush their teeth a lot. After all, in the same way that Americans value turkey sandwiches with mayo, Kenyans value scrubbing with soap and water. Even in Meru, a rural Western province of Kenya, the family I lived with had me wash my feet every time I entered the home. Sanitation is highly valued, so glistening smiles are all around. I envy them. Maybe I’ll start brushing my teeth more often.

Pedestrians don’t have right of way. I am used to nonchalantly crossing Main Street in downtown Middlebury. But here, the number of times that I have almost been slammed by a matatu (taxi) driver parallels to the number of times I have been called Kelly instead of Kylie – Kenyans have a lot of trouble pronouncing my name. The concept of speeding drivers is ironic though because “Kenya time” is very relaxed. So it is surprising that drivers are so aggressive. I’m still trying to figure out this clash.

The men carrying security firearms in Nairobi are likely to crack a smile. Anxiety isn’t married to security. In the US the sight of a gun makes people feel as if the blood in their veins is beginning to freeze. And I had that frozen feeling the first time I saw the Nairobi security guards grasping huge guns. But, now, the cameo-dressed men smile at me and I smile back.

I’m adjusting to the idiosyncrasies of Kenya’s culture. But, simultaneously, I am learning that you can’t brand people. My assumptions and general assumptions about Kenya don’t apply to all Kenyans. For instance, my home-stay father in Meru was an avid Catholic. The international media deemed that all Kenyan Catholics were against the promulgation of the new Kenyan constitution but he fully supported it. And today, a small white Toyota in downtown Nairobi stopped and let me cross the road. Maybe tomorrow I will see a Kenyan with yellowing teeth.