On the Bench at Jogoo House

February 2004 - Nairobi, Kenya

"Take a Seat". Sounded at first like a welcome to a "mzungu" visiting Kenya for the first time. At least I would have a few minutes to rehearse what I wished to share. After all, I had just spent three months in a comprehensive national research project on the topic of the effects of HIV/Aids on the Kenyan school system. With support from the Commonwealth Secretariat Gender Affairs Branch in London UK I had managed an appointment that morning at Jogoo House in Nairobi.  The Minister of Education would be happy to receive me, at least that's what I thought. 

An hour went by, I was ushered into a second waiting room and again, "take a seat."  Getting closer, couldn't be long now. A cup of Kericho gold tea would helped ease the pain of sitting on the wooden bench. Two hours later, I had had enough.  As I was leaving, there appeared from my right a young man in his early twenties, impeccably dressed. He smiled, offered his hand and greeted me with the familiar swahili welcome, "karibu." The Minister was still in Mombassa and was unavailable to see me. He had no idea when he was returning or whether another interview could be arranged. He would however leave my research report with the Minister's secretary. I did so reluctantly, never hearing back. Such a waste of time and effort.

Only in Kenya have I been so welcomed and ignored at the same time. “Take a Seat” is as common in East Africa as “may I help you”, except the help part is missing. Annoying, unsettling and dismissive, it's difficult for me to reconcile the words with a chance to rest, sit back and chill out.  A welcome pause in a busy day for most, why not? 

A cultural misunderstanding at best, one must realize that the meaning may differ between the one sitting and the one offering the seat. There may or may not be a meeting, wait and see. Another exercise in futility or a waste of precious time? Or is time irrelevant in East Africa and is it really fair to equate "take a seat" as a sign of disrespect? 

The Irish avant-garde playwright Samuel Becket wrote about two men who were waiting for a man named Godot. While Vladimir and his friend are hanging out, a boy shows up and tells him he is a messenger from Godot. He says that Godot will not be coming that evening but that he surely will come the next day. The next day the same, the boy enters and once again tells Vladimir that Godot will not be coming. He insists that he did not speak to Vladimir the day before. In this theatre of the absurd they wait in vain, nothing ever changes.

“Take a seat” is a concept I continue to struggle with. It’s a phrase synonymous with “you confuse me with someone who cares.” I feel angry because I have not been served. There’s the rub…I wait and no one shows up. Like the characters in “Waiting for Godot” I try to make sense of it all by reflecting on my own personal experiences. That includes waiting, waiting and then waiting some more. 

Kenyans understand the realities of poverty and powerlessness and inherently know that their only chance of survival is to embrace the long term. They live in hope of a better life. So to take a seat is not a problem. For them, waiting is a good thing because things might just improve as a result.

“Take a Seat” is the story of exhilarating days enjoyed in Kenya. The highs and lows, the pain and the pathos all point to the value of patience and letting go of that which is out of our control. It is also a reminder for me that our feelings do not always accurately describe our reality. Perhaps too, there is merit in seeing the world as Kenyans do, with humour and a sense that when life is most out of control it will then de facto improve.

Take a Seat…enjoy!