monday monday

Monday was another slow day. I hung out at home, reading and watching TV until about 2:30, when I left to meet Whitney in the city to register for classes. The whole weekend the city has been so empty because everyone goes home (to outer parts of Kenya) for the holiday. It is totally bizarre seeing the streets like this, and being able to ride in a matatu that is almost constantly moving. Registering took over an hour because the internet is so unreliable and computers are slow, etc. But, I am registered for four classes, even though registering does not guarantee me a spot in any of them, so I am not sure why it is so necessary to do this, especially while abroad : )
After being fully frustrated, we went to Java House where Whitney got an amazing sundae, which I helped her eat. Then it started to pour. The rain was only getting harder, so I decided to go catch the matatu home. As I got off the matatu, the sun came out in one corner of the sky and I looked all around for a rainbow, but I didn’t see one anywhere. Then, as I turned the corner onto my street, there it was; a big band of colors cutting across the sky. It looked like if I kept walking all the way down that road, I would eventually come to it. I always see rainbows as a sign of something good. When I got home, Monica’s cousin was there. I told them about the rainbow and she said, laughing, that when it is raining and the sun is out, that means a hyena is having a baby in the river. I told her I would keep my eyes out for hyenas.
I talked to Sarah Sterling briefly online today and she asked me if I liked Nairobi. I told her that I don’t know if I “like” it or if I ever will “like” it, but it is definitely becoming a lot more comfortable being here, as I know my surroundings a little better, and I’ve put some things on my walls in my room, etc. I talked to Whitney today at Java House about how it seems like, even if we get used to being here, we will always be seen as outsiders because we are white. Every single day I have people on the streets saying “Mzungu!, Karibu Kenya!” : “White person! Welcome to Kenya!.” This is often followed by an offer for a safari or to come see their shop to buy souvenirs. So, even as I get used to being here, I feel like I will never be seen as someone who belongs here, or is living here for more than a week or two. It’s a very frustrating and exhausting feeling, and one that is hard to express in words. I don’t know if words could have ever prepared me for this experience, because I think a lot of them would have been brushed off or not fully believed. There is no way to ever know how it feels unless you are in it every day. I cannot leave my house without being glared at, called out to, followed by somebody, or offered something in exchange for money. I am constantly wishing my skin could be just one shade darker, or that I could at least be male, so I could blend in on some level. As challenging as it is, I know it will be helpful in the future, and somehow I will be glad to have experienced it.