Edward grabbed my hand and pulled me in off the wraparound balcony into the classroom where he and twenty or so students were studying for their next exam. His hands were comfortable and soft, heavily cushioned in their firm grasp. I envisioned they looked and felt just like his big cheeks as he smiled and welcomed me to the university. Rumours were spreading among the students that we were from Sweden and he wanted to know why we were here. Explaining the who’s and what’s of our visit excited him and furthered his curiosity. He may have released his firm yet comfortable grasp of my hand, but as he adjusted his light purple dress shirt into his well-pressed pinstriped business pants, you could tell this conversation was about to become impossible to release.
“Are you Muslim or Christian? But how can you be born one and now not be either? Do they get along in Canada? Are you afraid of my dark colour? Then why are other people in Canada afraid to come here? Are the girls in Canada pretty? You mean you have been dating your girl for that long? Have you not made up your mind? Ha ha! Are you sure that here mother feels that way? You better visit the markets and find them some nice souvenirs to be sure. I don’t believe you that London Ontario is hotter today than Mombasa, I thought Canada was cold. So if your education system is based on the British system, as is the Kenyan system, why is my degree not recognized in Canada or in Brittan? Is our education inferior?”
The eyes of the other students had moved from their study notes to the conversation being held in the doorway. How do you respond to curiosity with honesty that uplifts? I recall how I told them their county is beautiful, negating the fact I keep my mouth closed while showering, fearing another bout of travelers sickness; how my first world problem of wanting hot water leads to mild electrocution from the overlooked installation of the on-demand-showerhead-waterheater combo; or how I never fully rinse off, as I would rather have bodywash film then smell like the lasting sharpness of the hotels water. All of these things represent another side I did not expect and have come to know as Mombasa, a side that I negate sharing when I speak of the beauty of this place.
There are no simple answers on either side of our understanding each other. I cannot wait to start teaching to have the kind of open academic discussion that generates answers – or at least more questions