Love Others1 as Yourself2
“Hey! Let’s get the bus downtown this afternoon!” suggested Julia.
I had nothing better to do so I agreed.
We brushed our teeth in the boiled water provided, wrapped our swatch of brightly coloured cloth around our waists and tucked the end in firmly. We were not used to wearing Kangas, so we secured ours with safety pins, just to be sure. We grabbed sun hats, hid our wallets in our clothing and walked out of the guesthouse.
“Downtown Nairobi, here we come!” we giggled.
We stood and waited at the stop outside the gates to the guesthouse.
The bus soon came along and, fortunately, we found seats together. We were very quiet. We felt out of place amongst these easygoing people who were chatting and laughing as they went their accustomed ways. We returned curious stares with a sweet smile and looked out the window.
The bus lurched and lunged its way through busy thoroughfares and filled rapidly in the next twenty minutes. The stops were abrupt but seasoned standing passengers expertly kept their balance, swaying in unison with the bus.
We whispered our conversation, aware that our white skin and Julia’s platinum blond hair were glaringly obvious. Feeling exposed, we shrank into our seats. Even so, as more people crammed into the aisle, bodies of smiling, chatty Kenyans pressed close upon us.
We chose a likely place to get off, where the shops looked more like the ones we were used to at home, and spent a couple or three hours choosing a few gifts for family and friends.
It was getting late and time to get back to our lodgings for supper. We found a bus stop for the return trip.
A mass of workers and shoppers thronged the bus stop. We went to the back and waited our turn to board the next bus. When the bus pulled up, a surge of determined people funneled through the doorway. The bus pulled away. We were left behind in a crowd waiting for the next one which soon pulled up. Another swarm of people eager to get home pushed ahead of us.
We thought we had a place in a queue. We were wrong. The third bus came and people pushed their way to the door and disappeared inside. We were still left behind.
Then we came to our senses. There was no queue. If you wanted to go home you just pushed forward and boarded. People were content. They were used to this. It was normal.
It was the culture.
We began to panic. We were Canadians, used to lining up for our needs.
“We’ve got to get on the next bus,” I said to Julia. “When it comes, I’ll go first. Just hang onto me!”
As soon as the next bus slowed at the curb, I began to use my hands and body, just like everyone else. I shoved and pushed through the mass of humanity, Julia hung onto my Kanga (I was grateful for the safety pin) and we boarded the bus. It was standing room only. All our sweaty bodies were pressed tightly together; no need to grip the pole! Julia and I leaned into each other in an effort to draw back from the men, one of whom especially seemed to appreciate the intimacy. A mixture of triumph, vulnerability and shame for our forwardness swirled in our minds – triumphant to be on the bus, vulnerable in our proximity to strangers and shame for our ‘rude’ behavior.
As we approached our stop near the hostel we began to worry. How would we be able to get off? The truth was evident. There was no other way. We would have to get off the same way we got on.
And so we did! Again, we used our bodies as bulldozers and hands as shovels. At the curbside we breathed a sigh of relief, straightened our Kangas, wiped the sweat off our faces and tried to look cool, calm and collected as we joined the rest of our group for supper.
Like everyone at that bus stop in Nairobi, Julia and I had needs. Every one of us needed to get home and our needs were just as worthy as any else’s. No one at the bus stop was being rude. It was the culture and we needed to adapt to it. It was important for us to love ourselves as much as we loved these Africans.
- to the same extent or degree; equally (Houghton Mifflin Canadian Dictionary)
- See Matthew 22:37-39
by Andrea Kidd
If you enjoy my High Country News submissions, please see my substack for more: andreakidd.substack.com
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