A lot like home
June 5, 2011
Filming: Day 10
There are BMWs in Nairobi. Lots of them. Nooks and corners of the city are swankier than many American cities I’ve visited. And while it makes me happy to see globalization at work, something about becoming too comfortable with global convergence is tragic to me—it seems that as the world gradually starts to look like itself everywhere, we are losing much of cultural heterogeneity. We found ourselves in a very upscale neighborhood near Westlands last night for a small barbeque. In Steve’s words, “if you’d told me one month ago that I’d be sitting at a barbeque in Nairobi in a month, I’d never have believed you.” It was familiar, the house was beautiful and lush and almost disturbingly quiet and secluded. It was no different from home. The potato salad was the same, the chicken was the same, the wine was the same, the company was the same. I listened to a young couple talk about their wedding: a combination of old tribal tradition (Kikuyu) and modern adjustments and accommodations. From what they described, it seemed that time had eroded some of the practicality of clinging onto ceremonial tradition. In a way, I began to feel like my experience of Nairobi was—in that respect—less authentic. It was less Nairobian, less Kenyan.
Today we were invited to Sylva’s church to hear a sermon; it was the most musical sermon I had ever heard (also the only one). The sound of the choir with the echo of the congregation was breathtaking—I could literally feel my skeleton dancing. As Steve so aptly put it, “I think I just found religion again.” Really, it was magical. And I realized in the company of these good country people, singing in unison in praise of something greater than themselves, that in the same way that we must accept change and progress as a function of time, we must also accept that certain elements of humanity will always remain untouched. That something like faith, like music, can unite a multitude of anonymous individuals inspires hope and promise. A forever kind of promise. And these truths will transcend time because they are true everywhere—because they are the fossils of global convergence, the fossils of humanity, really. Sharing commonalities across the globe—in certain timeless ways—can be a very good thing.
So as I witness Nairobi as a burgeoning technology hub—home to the biggest slum in Africa against the backdrop of a remarkable city skyline—I will appreciate its growth and progress not despite tradition, but rather as facilitated by it. Behind every development, I will redirect my energy to search for the custom or tradition that caused it. After all, even the progress of Nairobi must have been driven by a prayer.
Neha
