NAIROBI, Kenya - "Jambo?"
Perhaps you recognize the word as a Swahili greeting. You may have learned it in a song or seen it on a list of greetings from around the world. More than just a greeting, it's a word that has brought to life for me the reality of my stay here in Nairobi, Kenya.
Prior to my arrival here, I had taken just one short semester of Swahili at AU, and I had not studied the language at all for more than a year and a half. But I knew enough to know that "jambo?" was the simplified version of one of many Swahili greetings and that it was often taught to tourists, though some native speakers use it as well.
In Nairobi, however, locals use other words to greet one another. Words like "habari?," "hasa?" and "sema?" are used amongst Swahili speakers throughout the city. The only cases in which I've heard "jambo?" are those in which a local is addressing someone they perceive as a tourist - usually people with white skin.
People have said "jambo" to me many times, mostly in markets or in areas that tourists frequent. At first, I found it truly insulting. I felt like people were treating me like a moron; it seemed that they thought by greeting me with falsified authenticity, I would be more likely to do whatever it is they'd hoped I'd do, be it buying their wares or getting in their taxi.
The more I thought about it, though, my hostile reaction was unwarranted. There are few people of European descent in Nairobi, and many of those who are, in fact, are tourists.
In their desire to have an authentic experience, tourists are most likely to respond positively to the friendly Kenyans who greet them in their native language. Therefore, if nothing else, the Kenyan merchants or taxi drivers who greet me in that way are just doing something they feel will bring them more business.
My recognition of this has not necessarily alleviated my annoyance with the greeting. But in analyzing it, I realize that my annoyance is more a result of my expectations than of the actions of others.
Unconsciously, I had made the decision that I did not want to be regarded as a tourist while I was here, and unconsciously, I felt a deep desire to blend in as much as possible. What I did not consider, however, was that when people looked at me, my skin would say much more about me than where my ancestors are from.
I never considered that I might be looked at as a source of tourism revenue or an NGO's donor. I never considered that I maybe looked at as a manifestation of American promiscuity or hegemony.
I had not foreseen that I would need to learn to negotiate those things as part of my identity, learning to feel like I fit in, even when I cannot blend in. But they are realities of my time here, and confronting them will be a necessity of living in Kenya.
You can reach this columnist at thescene@theeagleonline.com.
