So Worth It

To preface this blog that may turn into a novel, I just have to remind you that you can feel free to not read it. My first couple of days in Nairobi included some of the most adventurous experiences and my favorite experience (thus far) on this continent. They may very well be “you had to be there” stories (my apologies), and they are definitely stories that are more easily told than written. That being said, I’m kind of excited about the challenge of trying to do them justice through written word. (English majors, I apologize for the inevitable jumping between tenses- its how I talk, and I’m a math major anyway!) Plus, I have the time, and I need about break from studying Kiswahili. So, here it goes:
First, I should also mention that I had two goals for the vacation. I wanted to see Alex, Simon, and Fr. Francis. Check! It was great to see them! I also wanted to play competitive Ultimate Frisbee since I knew that it was the only chance I’d get until returning home. While we were there, the Nairobi Frisbee crew was going to be playing twice.
I tried to go to both.
This is what unfolded:
After having been in Nairobi for A day (“A” as in “apple”), it was finally the big day- my first shot at joining in on some Ultimate. It was a pretty anticlimactic beginning- I just grabbed my Frisbee stuff (aka a Frisbee) and headed to the matatu stand (“matatu” is the Kenyan city bus). I remembered from the day before how to get to the city center, and I had no problem doing so. Once in the city, I wandered around for a good while searching for the number 6 bus, and finally found it. I was looking for the UN as we drove (under the impression that the UN would be noticeable). I started to wonder after we had gone quite a ways, and I asked the man next to me in Swahili if we had passed it. He had an uncomfortable grin, as if he felt sorry for me, and said that it was a ways back. Just then I realized the matatu was at the end of its line. Someone told the driver I had meant to go the UN, and he replied with, “Why didn’t you tell me?!” I didn’t know it worked that way. He told me to get back in and he’d take me back on his way…Then we pulled into an empty parking lot and sat there…He explained that his last conductor (the guy who collects everyone’s fare) was arrested (apparently I saw it happen, I just thought they were switching conductors at the time). He had gotten a new one for that trip, but apparently he too was afraid of the police, so he needed to wait for another new one. I didn’t find it necessary to ask why, and I actually was really close to offering to be his new conductor (it seems all you do is shout where it is going as you hang out the window, and you bang on the roof when the driver should stop). Anyway, we found our man and we were off. After many more stops, we were at the UN. I thanked my new friend and began wandering.
I finally found an American sounding girl wearing athletic clothing, and she told me Frisbee was just at the back of the UN complex I had just come across. She assured me that even though my matatu adventure had made me late, they were still playing. I approached the front gate of the UN (as in UNITED NATIONS- kind of ridiculous when I look back on it). Security asked to see a badge, and I explained that I didn’t have one; that I was just visiting some friends to play a game. He reluctantly said he would settle for a passport. As I mentioned, I grabbed my Frisbee…that doesn’t count as identification…Yep, this guy forgot his passport and was trying to get into the United Nations with no ID…and no luck.
I wandered outside the UN complex until I came upon what appeared to be the back entrance. Naturally, I slowly entered. I finally saw a security guard putting his shoes on. He asked what I was looking for, and I told him. He said to go to the front gate (the one that didn’t work). I said I was wondering if I could also reach the field this way, and he asked where I was from. His response to me being from the U.S.A. was, “We can’t be friends.”… Gulp.
All I could think to say was, “But Obama’s father was born in Kenya”…trepidation (still doing the big vocab. thing- maybe it’s a New Year’s Resolution)… He smiled, we exchanged some Kiswahili pleasantries, and the next thing I know he’s literally asking to be my friend, and we exchange contact information. If I ever have a Kenyan visitor named Moses, feel free to talk to him about Obama.
Moses goes on to explain that, unfortunately, his gate does not lead to the fields. He says I should try the front one again, so I head back and tell them “Moses sent me”. It’s getting late and a new guard on duty grins and says I should run, because they’ll be done soon! Clutch!
I run across the United Nation compound (yep, it happened!), and I reach the field just in time to see a catch in the end zone and hear “That’s game”. Yep, I had left early in the afternoon (3:45) on my adventure, and here it was, 7:00, game over. The guys told me I could come on Sunday, and, if I wanted, I could help them teach some kids from Kibera (biggest slum in Africa if not the world) how to play earlier on Sunday. This was a sweet offer, and I had enjoyed my attempt, so I wasn’t too bummed.
I caught a ride back partway with a Frisbee guy named Anderson. The only problem was he was from Nairobi and apparently misunderstood where I was trying to get to, so he didn’t drive me to the most helpful spot to catch a matatu. He let me off and kindly explained how I would get to the church, and I thanked him.
This is where I should pause to explain that Nairobi is known as a not-that-safe-city, but it’s said to be getting much better. Plus, they say the city center isn’t that bad. After all, it kind of just has the same dangers as any big city. In general, people advise that if you don’t travel alone at night, you have nothing to worry about. So what was I doing on my second day there?...Traveling alone…at night.
I can honestly say that I never felt the least bit scared. I tend to trust people unless I’m given a good reason not to, so I was walking the streets assuming that nothing would happen. Maybe it’s not healthy, but that’s just how I work I guess. I just stayed friendly and didn’t give anyone a reason to think I didn’t know what I was doing.
Anyway, I wandered for a while (a common theme when searching for busses while learning the lay of the land), and when I found the right one, the driver told me to take a different one. I took the one I was told. We started driving toward my stop, but we veered and kept going for quite a ways. I ask the driver what’s up, and he said he would normally go to that stop, but there’s a traffic jam on the way, so he didn’t…Of course. I should have known. ;)
He was kind enough to say he’d bring me there on his way back. This driver ends up switching with a different driver, but he luckily tells that driver where I need to go. After the new driver cackles (reason unknown) about my destination, he promises to take me there. We go on to have a great chat, and he explains that he is a missionary too (bus driving temporarily?), and he says that if I am ever in the city with no place to stay, I can stay on his property for 2 days with no charge. This is quite a change from the much more common requests for money from me.
Short story long, he dropped me off at the right stop, and I had one heck of a story to tell when I got back. (My cell phone wasn’t working, so the gang wasn’t necessarily sure that I knew what I was doing, although I had contacted them once with Anderson’s phone to let them know I was fine.)

That was Friday. When Sunday rolled around, I was all rested up and ready for round two. After Mike, Simon, Alex, and Reza left for a volunteer appreciation thing, I realized I was all alone at the church, and I did not know how to get to the new field to help teach the children. I asked some workers and got a whole mess of different answers (ranging from “You can walk there” to strings of bus connections I’d need to make.) Finally, someone called his brother who would know, and I got the most trustworthy advice I felt I was going to get.
I left for the city center (an easy connection at this point) in mid-morning in order to get to the fields for the afternoon session even if I had another adventure. This time I searched for the city center for probably about 2 hours until I finally found a bus I thought might work. It did, indeed, work, and I got to the junction I was supposed to get to with a few minutes to spare! “Perfect”, I thought, “I am not late, but I’m just on time, so they should already be setting up.”…False.
I found the fields I that I assumed would be used, but it was at the University of Nairobi, and the guards wouldn’t let me in (come on, if the UN will do it…) and said they didn’t think the kids were coming for Frisbee today. After more aimless wandering, I convinced the guards to let me check to see if anyone was there. I checked the fields, and, as I could see from the road, no one was there, but at least I was in. I wandered for a while (aimlessly, of course), and then fate took its course.
I saw a Kenyan student wearing a t-shirt with a picture of a plate on it, but it said “Si Sahani” (meaning basically “not a plate”), as he passed I caught a glance of the back of his shirt, and I joyfully read “It’s NOT A PLATE” First Annual Nairobi Frisbee Tournament”! Hizzah!
I asked him if he played, and he said yes. We chatted for a while, and he said he didn’t think the Kibera kids were coming, but he said, “We” have a practice at 3:30. I didn’t know who “we” was, but I was down for waiting a couple of hours. He let me use his phone, and I tried to get a hold of a friends’ sister who attends the university, but I hung up not knowing for sure if she’d make it in time to meet up, so I sat on a bench waiting for her and/or 3:30.
As a cool break from my idle sitting (not wanting to be seen by the guards that let me “look for my friends”, I began watching a guy shooting some hoops. I decided to head over to him and see if I could rebound. After some shooting around, he asked, “Do you know 3-pointers?” I thought about telling him that 3-pointers and I are pretty good friends, but instead I smiled and said that I used to play quite a bit, and I got to spend some time teaching him proper shooting form and a couple of dribbling drills. It was great! Unfortunately, some guy that apparently has the authority to do so came and demanded that we give him the ball.
After a little more sitting, some people began to congregate on the field. That’s when stuff got real.
It turns out that this practice was being run by a Swedish gym teacher named Ole. After we established that I know very little about Sweden (“Where in Sweden are you from?”—“Do you know anything other than Stockholm?”—“No…”—“It’s nowhere near Stockholm.”), Ole explained that he really didn’t know much about the game of Ultimate, but he thought it was a great game for people that don’t have much, because you just need a field and a piece of plastic, and it teaches some great lessons. Cool.
What I thought was going to be just a college Ultimate practice turned out to be a “coaches’ practice”. You see, Ole and some others have been teaching young people from many of Nairobi’s slums how to play Ultimate, and each slum has one or two coaches. These coaches were at the university that beautiful Sunday for extra, advanced practice so that they could go back to their respective slums and help their teams develop further.
We scrimmaged for quite a while, and even though it wasn’t at the level of the game of Western players I was apparently missing, it was so cool! It was great to run around and play a pretty competitive game, and it was amazing to see how good some of these guys and girls (most probably about my age, some younger, some older) were after learning the game only 2 months ago! I got to be on the “slums” team, and they definitely played with a chip on their shoulder as we narrowly beat the team from the university.
I was beaming, but little did I know, the best was yet to come. After the scrimmage everyone gathered, and Ole asked if I would answer some questions since he only knew basics about the game.
They had all sorts of questions, and I was able to give a lot of random tips and clarifications. Then someone asked about what happens when someone thinks they caught a disc while the other team thinks it hits the ground first. I got to explain the Spirit of the Game (it’s trademarked- check it out), and we talked about what it means to be honest and fair, even in such a competitive situation. At first they laughed at the idea of admitting you didn’t catch it if you know you didn’t, but we kept talking about what that says about the kind of person you are and what that means about the way you will live your life outside of the game, and they really started to take it seriously and get it. Afterward they were thanking me and explaining that they were excited to go back to their slums and try to teach their kids about the life lessons of the game! It made my entire vacation! It was so powerful to see these people that have just about nothing, walking long distances to come play the game we love and learn how to better spread the message and the game to those around them in order to help keep them on a good life path! It really made my entire vacation, and I was honored to have accidentally gotten to be a tiny part of it!

Of course, I still had to get myself back to the church one more time… I caught the first matatu I could back into the city center, and from there I kept walking up and down the same street looking for the cross street I knew I wanted. By the time it got dark I finally learned that the street I was looking for ran parallel and was one block over (the security guards around are really friendly and helpful, but they don’t necessarily communicate things like that too clearly…). I caught the right matatu back and made sure he would go to my stop regardless of traffic. Of course, he passed my stop and I had to yell at him in Swahili to stop, and he eventually did a ways past where I needed to be. I got out and walked back, ecstatic about my great adventure and experience, thinking that the excitement was done…
Well, let’s just say it was plenty dark, and a certain Crystal, MN native who had just had a phenomenal day managed to top it all off by falling into a ditch right before arriving at his final destination. I found it pretty funny as I climbed out, and I could not wipe the smile from my face.
So, moral of the story- more time than I ever expected to spend on/searching for Nairobi matatus and not playing any seriously competitive Ultimate was SO. INCREDIBLY. WORTH IT!