On my way to Africa and my first day in Africa (Nairobi)
The 14 hours that I spend in the air from Chicago to New York and then to Dubai together with 7 hours whiled away in three airports was too much but not terrible. The only real down point of the trip was the 4-hour delay in taking off from Dubai, which was due to technical problems with the first aircraft that was to take me to Nairobi.
What have left a slight unpleasant taste in my mouth were the two rather thorough body and baggage searches that I went through after I got randomly selected for extra security measures. No, I am being unfair! This time there was nothing random about it. They were quite open about the fact that I was going through what I was going through strictly due to the four letters spelled out on my passport: IRAN. And it is not because Iranians are often being caught plotting a “terrorist activity” or during or after a hijacking attempt or even that any one of those who did the heinous act of directing the planes into the twin towers in New York were Iranians. Rather it was because George W. Bush decided—based on the evidence he found under his cowboy hat on his ranch in Texas—that Iran, along with Saddam Hussain’s Iraq and Kim’s North Korea, are the axis of evil. So in American logic, it seems, hard facts are less valuable than what one’s dad (or any one in control, for that matter) says. If Bob’s father once decided that George the carpenter is a bully while Bob has repeatedly seen Jimmy the financier beating people up on the street, poor George will be the first person who goes to jail if Bob ever becomes the Sheriff. And Obama, with all the nice gestures and some good that he is doing, is not willing to revert this policy. I say this as opposed to saying he has not had the time to do it because if he does revert this policy and then an Iranian does get involved in a “terrorist act,” he is politically dead. And of course a first time president is understandably more concerned with his reelection than with what is wrong and what is right.
All said, I could have avoided the first insulting body search at the Chicago airport if I would have presented my “American driver’s license,” which I have mistakenly left in my sister’s car. So if, like all the other times that I traveled in and out of O’Hare airport in Chicago, I could have tricked the sophisticated security apparatus into thinking that I am one of them (merely by using an American driver’s license), I would not have been a natural suspect: one point taken off my “terrorist” credentials!
The trip, however, had two climactic moments. One was when we were flying over Iran. It was a strange feeling. I could not get my eyes off the mountainous terrain that started close to Tabriz and then the flatter desert-like terrain that was stretching before my eyes from approximately where Shiraz lies (altitudinally), all the way to the Persian Gulf. After all, I have not been back in 3 year. The second thrilling moment was when after nearly 3 days with less than 9 hours of sleep, I slept all the way from Dubai to Nairobi (for those who don’t know much about my sleeping habits, this is an unheard of record for me: 5 hours of sleep on a plane!).
I loved Nairobi from the moment I set foot on its soil. The smell was strangely familiar: a combination of smoke from cars, garbage burning pits and wood ovens (I am guessing based on my nasal signals!). The traffic was brutal but moving. Not many drivers seemed fed up with the craziness. They rather participated in it in their own ways. They would push the limits up to the point that the puzzling traffic would not get completely locked. From an outside point of view, this traffic would translate into impossibility, but for Nairobi drivers, it was just a routine challenge that would keep them from falling asleep behind the wheel. I have seen this before many times in my country, in Egypt and in India.
There is something about Nairobi that makes me think of my time in India. Wait a second, I know what it is: the most obvious British colonial heritage (i.e. driving on the left side of the street). I know that it will take me a while before I manage to look the right direction when passing the streets. (I hope I don’t get hit by a car while here!) But something else that did not grab my attention in India is the fact that the same logic works on the sidewalks (maybe it is different here). It took me a little frustration (and a slight shiver down my spine) before I realized this fact. I was walking from the office to my hotel and I kept bumping into people on the sidewalk. Not seeing any one else who had the same problem, I started fearing that people were intentionally running into me (typical non-native geocentricism!). Having heard that Nairobi streets can be unsafe for foreigners, I felt threatened by this. It didn’t take long before I realized that it was not them—running into me—but it was me running into them. They were pursuing their own paths. It was me who was blocking their way by walking on the right side of the sidewalk. Thus, I corrected my way of strolling on the streets.
This incident kept me thinking about the centuries during which Africa has suffered from outsiders’ intrusion in its affairs and its peoples’ way of life. Only if we would learn from history: the problem is not they, it is we. It is the mere fact that we justify our presence here in a way or another. The outsider has always claimed superiority over the native: civilizing, proselytizing, democratizing, and developmental missions are all emblematic of this sense of ascendency. The only thing that has changed over the centuries is the way we justify it. But we never let the right question to be asked: why are we so concerned with being here to begin with? Is it about their problems that we are trying to solve, or is it our own interests that we are trying to satisfy?
I was reading a humanitarian program’s funding document today. The fund comes from an anonymous donor (nearly everyone in the development world knows who “the anonymous donor” is). The donor is one of the most prominent flag-bearers of free-market capitalism and economic liberalization. Before reading this program document, I have always had my doubts about this donor’s motives being purely market based (don’t get me wrong. I am not claiming that I can read his mind. I just found an interesting new piece of information). This funding is dependent on how the stock market does. If the stock market sucks (as it did in 2008) the program gets less or no funding. On the contrary, if the stock market does well, people in need of the services provided by this program will get what they need. What this donor is doing is very straightforward: he is trying to tie the provision of basic human necessities of some poor Congolese population to the benefits of the richest people on earth. In other words, if those capital-owners—who find stock market an easy way of earning undeserved interest—win, the poor get primary health care. Loss of outrageous profit by the rich (and when I talk about loss, most of the time it means less profit. For example $50 million/year as compared to $70 million/year that they made a couple of years ago), will translate into the death of millions of African children due to simple diarrhea and other preventable diseases. What a nice strategy! Now even the poor should see his/her life as dependent on the stock market.
How far down this abyss does the world need to go for us to open our eyes and realize that indefinite growth on a finite planet is nothing but an imperial myth? A myth that has ensured an ever-increasing gap between the rich and the poor. A myth that has gotten us to the point where a single human-shaped being spends millions of dollars on changing his skin-tone while millions of human beings are deprived from a single dollar per day to pay for nutritious food or life-saving medical care. And when this human-shaped being dies, the corporate media wastes millions of dollars, recouped through advertising beauty products, on covering his life and death stories and broadcast rumors about his love affairs and personal habits and perversions. Where do we live and how did we manage to turn our world to such perdition?
Hani--Nairobi--July 22
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