G-SPOT: Why Nairobi and I are a love story gone awry

By the time you read this, I will be back in the land of balmy sea breezes and lovingly hand-rolled chapatis, leaving you, our nation’s capital, to wrestle with those new-fangled machine-made ones. Progress, they call it. I call it culinary betrayal, but do carry on.

Let me cut straight to the chase. I suspect I may have finally fallen out of love with Nairobi. Before you start clutching your pearls or drafting patriotic rebuttals, allow me to explain.

Born, raised and a lifelong resident of the accidental city, I never truly understood the people who claimed to be overwhelmed by its noise and energy. I would nod politely as they lamented the dust, chaos and relentless honking, secretly wondering if they simply lacked stamina or an iron constitution. Nairobi, after all, rewards those with quick feet, quick minds and, occasionally, quick exits.

Then came nine months of peace and tranquillity in Malindi. One short visit back to County 047 and suddenly, I understood everything. When your ears adjust to waves and birdsong, the soundtrack of revving engines and matatus feels less like vibrant urban life and more like living inside a particularly enthusiastic metal factory.

To be fair, age may play a role. The older I get, the less tolerance I have for unnecessary busyness or environments, where crossing the road feels like a high-stakes game show. The heroic willingness to run 12 errands before lunchtime has quietly retired to the Coast, where errands involve nothing more urgent than buying mangoes and remembering where one left the flip-flops.

Whenever I return, friends and the occasional frenemy demand to know whether I miss the city of cool waters. Incidentally, if we are being literal, Cape Town fits that description rather well, too, as the Atlantic is cold enough to trigger existential reflection in under three seconds. But I digress, and we all know I mean Kenya’s capital.

I will always acknowledge my Nairobi roots. I loved the city once. Yet something in our relationship has shifted. We have both changed and, like any long-term partnership, sometimes you wake up and realise the spark has dimmed, replaced by a mutual sense of, “It’s not you, it’s… well, actually, it might be you.”

These days, if you blindfolded me and dropped me somewhere in the city, I would likely need Google Maps and a support group before identifying my location. Neighbourhoods I once knew intimately now resemble futuristic film sets, only instead of flying cars, we have boda bodas with remarkable confidence and questionable brakes.

I am guilty of nostalgia, certainly. Change and I have an uneasy relationship, rather like a cat confronted with a cucumber. Yet cities must evolve. I am not opposed to progress, I simply prefer it when it does not appear overnight as a 30-storey apartment block wedged into a plot that once housed a single family, two chickens and a jacaranda tree.

The transformation is not just structural. Entire neighbourhoods have shifted demographically, with new communities moving in and long-time residents relocating to quieter pastures, often where parking exists without prayer. 

Some newcomers integrate seamlessly. Others seem to arrive convinced that pavements are optional and car alarms are a decorative feature.

In an ideal world, such change would be matched by better roads, parks and public transport. Instead, we often get a flurry of petrol stations, strip malls and apartment towers in what can only be described as architectural improvisation.

Urban planners speak of neighbourhood life-cycle theory, where areas rise, mature and reinvent themselves. Nairobi, however, follows its own script, influenced by ambition, opportunity and a national belief that traffic solutions will one day be achieved via vibes and determination. The result is a city constantly in flux, full of excitement, noise, possibility and mild panic.

Perhaps one day, Nairobi and I will rekindle our romance. For now, though, we are on a break. I have retreated to palm trees, sea breezes and chapatis rolled by human hands, while the city hurtles ahead in its relentless pursuit of modernity.

Do not worry, Nairobi. You will be fine without me. And I will be fine without your traffic.

Probably.