These Four Walls

Gated community (online image)

Clang. Snap. Bang. Click. I listened again. Clang. Snap. Bang. Click. Those were some of the first sounds I heard as we exited Jomo Kenyatta International Airport in Nairobi, Kenya. They echoed in chorus throughout the dark city as we made our way across snaking lanes of traffic and ill-lit highway overpasses, bumping down dusty alleys and back streets. Clang. Snap. Bang. Click. Clang as the metal gates flew open. Snap as guards clicked heels on pavement, investigating newcomers and casual passersby. Bang as doors slid shut after passing. Click on the padlocks, cog wheels tightening. From what I could tell in those first few hours and even subsequently, Nairobi was a fortress. Every house, business, and shopping center on lock down- bars on windows, gates at doors. Like marshal order, but self-imposed and justifiably so with break-ins and petty theft all too common in the absence of such precautions.

The Everywhere Security Guard (online image)

We bounced our way down a pitch black side street, emerging just before the entrance to the villa. Barbed wire fences coiled atop rigid iron bars, a shiny dark paint finish washed over it all. The guard nodded, smiled at the taxi driver he knew well and slid back the gate with a forcible metallic swoosh. I must have stared slack-jawed long enough before the driver, John, chuckled aloud. The imposing iron fortress belied a near tropical interior with giant jacaranda trees dipping low branches over tiled roofs and fragrant flowers stretching eagerly through the gates that encircled each villa. Villa was exactly the right word for the picturesque white and wood homes, almost gleaming even in the darkness. 

Kenyan Villa (online image)

House sitting? This was where I was house sitting? John passed me a heavy set of keys and walked me through the entrance and exiting process. A driveway gate with deadbolt latch. Front door gate with a long silver key that looked more like it belonged in Gulliver’s Travels than in my upturned palm. A near identical one for the actual front door. A second set for the entrance to the living quarters and another for my room itself. Would I be okay for the night? Did I feel safe? he asked. My eyes still soaking in what they could in the lighted corridor,—cool tiled floors, gorgeous wood stairs, plush sofas, and a six-windowed kitchen—I grinned and nodded yes. Welcome to Nairobi.