I haven’t traveled much, but Nairobi, seen here at night, is perhaps the greatest of all the cities I’d been to.
Though I grew up in Kenya, I came to Nairobi only much later, when I was old enough to discover the world on my own. Initially, the city resisted me, as I imagine all cities do first—it was scary, it was overwhelming. I stayed on and as my memories of the city piled up, it slowly opened up to me and I eventually fell in love.
I clearly recall the moment I felt at home in Nairobi. It happened in Ramadan, Islam’s holiest month. One night, my friends and I were walking to a mosque at the heart of the city, and as happens sooner or later in every city, we got mugged. Later in the month, while walking from the mosque, we got mugged again. But one of the robbers recognized us at the last minute and returned our items. And it hit me just then: this was home and even the robbers knew us.
And now I miss home dearly.
