After a late night arrival, I woke up feeling relatively refreshed in the inner city of Nairobi. I had a few hours before I was taking another, short flight to go on safari. When I travel, I’m always eager to get away from the places that are over-visited by other travelers. To pass the time, I decided to go to the local market. From my hotel window, I could see the streets below were abuzz with people and I longed to go check it out. I stopped at the concierge desk to ask for directions to the nearest market. “The local market,” I specified. I had no interest in going to a tourist trap that catered to foreigners. The pleasant gentleman replied, “Let me call you a cab,” and he began to reach for the phone.
“No,” I said, “I’d rather walk.” After a long 18-hour flight to Nairobi the day before, I was eager to get out and about, stretch my legs, and get a sense of the city. This was my first trip to Kenya. I was traveling solo, but I was fearless at this point (not to mention quite a bit younger than I am now!). The concierge frowned. “It’s really not safe for you to walk, and it’s quite a long distance. A 20-25 minute walk. I’ll get you a cab.” Frustrated, I said that I’d just go for a walk on my own. A 25-minute walk was not how I defined a “long” walk and I just wanted to go exploring.
“Don’t leave the hotel block,” he sternly said. I looked through the lobby window and saw the hundreds of people milling about and thought he was certainly over-reacting. I mumbled an unconvincing, “Okay” and walked outside.
Let me pause here to mention that my dad was an airline pilot. He traveled all over the world. Over the years, he had shared countless stories of other pilots who went for a run and came back wearing only their underwear – because they had been robbed. I was well aware of these “urban legends,” and I was convinced that they were embellished stories that were shared in the cockpit to make the time go by faster.
I stepped outside and walked around the city block. The hotel itself took up the entire block, so the only shops I saw were those that were associated with the hotel. They all felt very touristy. I decided to expand my walk to the next block. And so it went: I kept walking in circles and at the start of every new circle, I would expand to the next block. There were still people out and about and I never felt unsafe.
I was at a corner waiting for the streetlight to change so I could cross to the next block when a man approached me. “You are American?” he asked. I cautiously affirmed that I was, indeed, from the States. “Oh, yes!” he exclaimed. “I am a teacher! Can I treat you to a cup of tea so I can learn more about America and share it with my students?” We happened to be standing in front of a tea house and the middle-aged gentleman was very friendly. I was probably about 6 blocks from my hotel, and there were still a lot of people around. I accepted his offer and we went inside.
Let me again pause to say that, as I look back at this decision, I want to yell at my younger self, “What are you thinking?! Don’t go with him!” But hindsight is always 20/20. And I am so much wiser now!
We sat at a small table towards the far end of the tea house. My back was to the front door, which generally makes me uncomfortable, regardless of what country I am in. We each ordered a cuppa. He proceeded to tell me that he was originally from Zimbabwe and that his family was still there and he needed money to bring them to Kenya. He wanted to know if I could help. All of the alarm bells in my head immediately began ringing very loudly. I had read about this scam on the plane when I was enroute to Kenya and I knew immediately it was a ploy. I kindly said that I didn’t have any money that I could give him. In an instant, his whole demeanor changed. Gone was the friendly teacher who wanted to get to know the American. He signaled to someone behind me. I panicked. We hadn’t even gotten our tea yet, but I pulled a few dollars out of my shirt sleeve (because I had money hidden all over me, on the off chance that I did get robbed) and threw it on the table and wished him the best. I high-tailed it out of there and hoofed it back to the hotel. I never did see who he was signaling behind me, and I have no idea if I was followed back to the hotel, but I was scared enough to just stay in my room until it was time to leave. Thankfully, I had already made arrangements to safely get to the domestic airport for my next flight.
So when the concierge tells you not to leave the city block, believe them. Know that there might be some kernels of truth to those urban legends. Be thoughtful about the risks you take – personally and professionally. People who give you advice often have a good reason for it. They know from experience. And don’t enter a tea house with a stranger!