The Eagle has Landed

+ =
Packed up and ready as I'll ever be. It's been a long journey and it's not quite done yet.

We were welcomed to the equator with a blue, orange and yellow sunrise unlike anything I've seen before. As we touched down and walked out on the tarmac to the flat empty land, dotted with trees around the airport, it hit me: "Okay, I'm finally here. So now it begins."

My first day in Nairobi started with a writing test. At the Voice of America offices, I got some quick basic lessons in radio writing style, voiced a mock report, and met a handful of my colleagues at the East African Bureau. As the bureau chief sat in her office, smoking a cigarette, telling me about war zone after war zone she's covered, I realized how different this experience could be. Reporting in Tanzania is not quite like producing from my comfortable air conditioned office in Chicago.

Barack Obama's father is from Kenya so I asked my cab driver about what he thought of the presidential candidate. He immediately responded with a question of his own, "Do you really think he will win?" He told me that a country of white people would not stand behind or under a black man. When I told him that his chances may be better than he thinks, he brushed it aside. He explained that an African American in office would only mean exploiting Africa's resources, driving up costs for locals. So even if he was an American, he wouldn't vote for Obama.

What I've seen of the city (which isn't much) is strangely modern yet outdated. There are tall glass buildings and short clunky cement ones. Cars drive on the "wrong" side of the road, dodging other cars and weaving through pedestrians. Nokia and Coca Cola billboards are prominently plastered on the sides of buildings. The air is terrible because the cars here are the ones that don't pass emissions test in Asia and America. But the food is good, the people are friendly, and my Swahili is terrible. I opted to stick with English for the time being. Still, when I asked what time the internet cafe closed, the clerk told me how much a donut was.

The YMCA Hostel is wonderful, especially for the price. For about $30 a night, I get my own room, bathroom, and TV (although YMCA didn't pay the bills so there are no channels). It may not seem like much. But after meeting a 23-year-old from Kibera, one of the worst slums in Africa, and hearing about the unimaginable conditions there, I can hardly complain. Meeting him and hearing his story is what this whole experience is about. And I'm glad I was reminded of that on my very first day here.

Tomorrow I will be going to Tanzania, my home away from home.