rain rain go away

I keep trying to make friends with this city called Nairobi, but it just isn’t working out. Although I try to see the good in it, I can’t seem to stop hating it. And I know that hate is a strong word, and I try to be careful about using it, but I think it is appropriate for my current feelings. And if there is anything worse than trying to walk through the streets of Nairobi on a week day, it is trying to walk through these streets in the rain.
On Wednesday our class was cancelled and Wairimu wanted to meet us for lunch. She wanted to meet at a place about a mile from where I get off the matatu and it had already been pouring all night and hadn’t let up by 11am. So my wonderful host mother Monica called me a cab that was going to drive me, and I was very grateful. When I got in the cab though, I realized that he did not have windshield wipers that were functioning, so it was pretty terrifying being in the passenger’s seat of a car that you could not see through the windshield of and knowing that brakes were not working well since the roads were so wet. So I told the driver I needed to get dropped off at the post office, which is about where the matatu would have dropped me off anyway, and I was glad to get out of that car and walk the mile despite the rain.
So we had lunch with Wairimu, which was nice, and then she dropped me off about a mile from the matatu (although she did lend me her umbrella which made the walk a lot better). Anyway, the problem with Nairobi is that there are thousands of people on every street and none of them are watching where they are going. And when you put umbrellas in these people’s hands, it makes it that much worse unless you are wearing safety glasses to protect your eyes from being poked out by the umbrellas. Then there are the cars that, when you try to cross the street between them, will pull up a few inches and then stop so you cannot pass. Here I am soaking wet in the pouring rain and these people sitting in cars need to pull up a few inches just to stop! Aahh! Also, the matatus charge extra when it is raining because they know people are desperate for a dry ride. So I get on a matatu, squeeze into the very last seat with two men on either side of me while “I’m slippin’, I’m fallin’, I can’t get up” is blasting out my eardrums on the giant speakers they have installed.
Anyway, that is my venting session of a blog about my constant dispute with the largest city in East Africa. I don’t know if we will ever make amends. I am liking my home in Kariokor more and more though and realizing that I would rather be here than the YWCA or in Karen, for various reasons. I like my little family and my room and the markets outside of the flats. So those things compensate for my hatred of the central city : )