Nairobi on the Defense?

City Hall was bustling. Polyester suits staggered through the hallways while workers sat at their desks, role-playing “important”. Keeping the city afloat. Apace.

I had a meeting with Defense, quite the name for the woman who was in charge of public records. Defense. When the gentleman at the archives told me to call her, he told me not to be intimidated by her name. Upon meeting here, she gave me a warm smile and a healthy handshake.

“What can I help you with today?” She asked me kindly.

Above her was a sign that read “My positive job values or virtues.” What makes a good public worker, a good bureaucrat. Then the list: Honesty. Trustworthiness. Loyalty. Courage. Firmness. Steadfastness. Impartiality. Principled Behavior. Hardworking. Just like the virtues of a good Athenian citizen or Roman Statesman.

The virtues of a Kenyan bureaucrat.

I told her I was interested in slums, or informal settlements.

She responded plainly, “Sure, we have those here.”

I silently laughed. No official cover up. No reason to pretend that she didn’t understand. In fact, the newspaper reported a fire in a nearby slum just this morning: 100 shacks burned to the ground. The firemen did their best to respond.

Defense then explained to me the way the city was managed. 16 decentralized departments, like Social Services and Housing, City Planning, Education, Legal Affairs. They had the information I needed – she promised – and advised me to write letters to each director. I asked for their names, and she told me that names didn’t matter. Titles did. Make sure to address them as “Director.”

Defense was very interested in my project and eager to help. She told me of how she used to work in the Archives, and about her Master’s degree at a local university. She had an itch for research. Her eyes glowed when I discussed the puzzles of urban politics – why some urban communities are better governed than others. Why some communities could hold their leaders accountable while others fail miserably. I could tell she wanted to help me, and wanted to know the answers herself. Our time was too short.

She walked me to the staircase and stood at the top as I descended back to everyday Nairobi. She walked back to her office and sat back in her chair. She spent the rest of the day stamping the “important” documents that rested on her desk.

~~~

City Hall embodies Nairobi as a city. Organized, but out of date. Educated, but under-utilized. Bustling, but a little bored. A “grasping for more” attitude I haven’t seen in other African cities. A desire for more – a better life – progress, development, and the newest iPhone.

But very cosmopolitan. Wonderful Somali restaurants, full of tall Arab men with their robes, caps, and flashy cell phones. Amazing Ethiopian cuisine that caters to foreigners and Kenyans. Chinese restaurant owned by families that have been doing business in Nairobi for several years. The Westgate Mall could be in Tokyo, and the 3G internet service allows for broadband anywhere in the city.

But behind all of this, Nairobi still has its secrets. The matatus, or minibuses, are still run by the Kikuyu gang called the Mungiki. On our way home from the game reserve last week, we had a shady driver with a huge slash across the back of his head. He harassed every passenger who got on for a ride. And it definitely didn’t help to be white. Every once in a while we get a glimpse of the nasty undertones – how seemingly normal Kenyans could immediately shift into machete haters. There is still a huge fear that the post-election violence of 2007 is brewing under the surface of cosmopolitan life. Each morning the newspaper documents another story of corruption, murders, and sob health stories. Misogynist anti-abortionists still have a healthy voice in the national newspaper.

The paradox of Nairobi is that there is the sense that a better Nairobi awaits, but is still constrained by the past. The big, yellow colonial building still houses City Hall.

Defense comes to work each day and finds her 1950s desk awaiting her. As much as she wants to be on the offensive – create new things, improve her city – she remains “loyal” and “impartial” to the way things are. The way they have always been. Like a good Kenyan bureaucrat.

After all, her name is Defense.