To whom shall we turn to when we are in serious problems

Dear Ruhama,

How are you doing? It’s long time since I hear from you? I know letters takes too long to be delivered from Nairobi to Addis Ababa. How is your brother Gizaw? I hope, both of you are in good health.

However I advice you many times to start using email, you’ve refused. But, I do understand you.

You’ve a fear of walking in town. To be refugee in Nairobi is not easy. If you come across with the CID, you’ll be fined. I don’t want you to get into trouble. If situations are not changed yet, there are many problems there. When I was in school in Kenya for 40 months, I faced few problems with the secret police.

Refugees are people who move to other countries. They run away from some kind of trouble in their places. They have political, social or economical problem in their countries. There is no place for anyone like his home. Unless he is forced by some incident, everyone wants to live in his birth place.

Here at home, we’ve refuges from some countries. There are at least five or six nationals from East African countries. Our people pity them and care for them. I don’t know why our refugees were harassed by Kenyan police by then.

Let alone refugees, people who stay in abroad sometimes feel lonely. They can be a highly paid person work in a huge organization. They can be diplomats who represent their government in the country they live in. Some can have business in other country and live far away from their homelands. They’re homesick. However they are materially and socially secured, they want good neighbors. They want good friends. Because they drive big cars and live in a mansion, other people think they’re content.

But that’s not true. I’ve many friends like them. I do my little shopping and pay them a visit. I go with them to shop. I show them different markets where they can buy things in good prices. I negotiate for them with the local business people. I try my best to make them feel at home. I go and help them with their house chores when they have parties. Their children call me ‘aunty’ that makes me feel so great.

I sit next to a Congolese woman on a bus when I went to visit a friend. She was crocheting a beautiful vest. We were going to the same direction again. I asked her to wait for me when I bought bananas to my friend. I saw her smiling. I also bought her a kilo of bananas. She said she stays alone, I thought that’ll be enough for her. I paid the fair on the next root for both of us. She was so thankful. We supposed to be kind for people who are far away from their home. If they got sick, give birth, get married, or anything happen to them, we’re the one to be there for them. If we mistreat them and turn our back to them, we’ll make their lives more miserable.

Let me tell you what happened to me once. I was going to Massai market one day with my two Ethiopian friends, years ago. We were three girls. The police spotted us out from far. One of the girls saw him from far. “The police is going to arrest us. Look at him he’s pointing to us, telling something to his colleague.“ said my friend.

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell the police that we’re from the Ethiopian Embassy. Just pretend that you’re not afraid at all.” I said to my friends. The police came smiling to us.

“Hey girls, you’re from Ethiopia, right?” asked the police. Ignoring his question, “Can you direct us to the Massai market? Last week they drop us here, and today we come walking and we lost our direction.” I said.

“Are you Ethiopians?”

“Yes we’re are.”

“Come and have a sit here.” He prepared three stools for three of us, so that we sit and bargain for our release.

Smiling broadly; “Yes we are Ethiopians. They’re the daughters of the ambassador and I’m their friend. Would you please tell us the direction of the market? We come to buy some curios.” I said.

“You’re from the embassy. Who’s your best runner that beats Paul Tergat?” said the other police.

“Haile Gebre Silasie.” We said in unison.

The police became friendly and escorted us to the market. My friends had never been to town, they’re afraid of the police. If I didn’t try my card that day, we could’ve a bad memory of Nairobi and the police. That day we laughed from afternoon to the evening.

My friends went to USA with IOM. I was lonely after a year. One afternoon, I was chatting Mama Njeri at her shop. She was my land lady. Two civilians came and ask to buy a newborn outfit. They ask the lady why she keeps me in her shop. She told them I was her friend. One of the guy said, he sees me repeatedly at her shop. He started accusing her for employing an Ethiopian while many Kenyans have no jobs. They asked me for my passport. I know if I show the passport or my school ID that will not solve the problem. Once a police meet a foreigner, the solution was only giving him money.

I show’em the copy of my passport as all foreigners do by then. In fact I applied for a new passport at the embassy.“Come with us we’re going to the police station. Then we’ll take you to the refugee camp. You can’t live in Nairobi. Anyone who can’t show his original passport to the police, he’s a refugee.”

I start walking with them. Mama Njeri begged them to leave me. They both refused. Mama Njeri shakes me with 500 KSH. The guys who call themselves CID, walks me to Ring Road. We started walking and pass by Umoja PCEA. The junctions were quite, they keep walking. I was afraid of the rape and more terrorizing stories. I prayed God to change those cruel men’s mind. Then I spoke out. “Please come tomorrow and I’ll show you my new passport after I collect it from the embassy. Take this 500 shillings, that’s the only money I have.

The two guys smile at each other. They discuss something in Kiswahili and went with the money. I was very embarrassed and hated to be in somebody’s land. I thought I was at home, in Africa.

Do you remember Haimanot, my friend from Sar bet? When her brother came to visit her, he got sick. He stayed at Kenyatta Hospital. Before he returns home, he had to go to the embassy. You know, I know the town in every direction. She asked me to take her brother to the Embassy. We were around GPO when one stout guy held Haimanot’s brother and pace with us. I taught the guy was a thief.

“Leave him alone.” I shouted. The guy smiled at me proudly. He showed a small ID. I told him to leave my uncle alone.

Haimanot’s brother whispered to me he’s a CID. I didn’t know they grab anyone in the middle of the town. “Don’t speak a word, I’ll deal with them.” I told him in Amharic.

The other police was behind us. They walk with us to the state house to the direction of the embassy.

“Leave my uncle alone. He was in a hospital and we’re going to renew his passport. If he doesn’t renew it, he can’t extend his visa.”

“We need to see his passport.”

He showed the passport. It was four days since it has expired. “How dare he stay in Kenya for four days without a valid visa and passport? He’ll be taken to prison.” said the secret police.

I had to go with him. My friend will ask me where her brother is. The police told me; “Lady, we don’t want you. You just go and tell his families he’s jailed.”

“No. I can’t live him. He has just discharged from the hospital.”

My friend’s brother starts vomiting. The police stood close to him. Later, they grabbed him from both sides. They walk him inside. We were under Kenyatta International Conference Centre. We entered an office in the ground floor. I was ready to report the police to the high officer. The man behind the big table had an oily face. He is the tallest and hugest person I ever saw in my life. Before I say a word, the big officer left his office smiling sweetly at the two police who caught my friend’s brother.

The guy was told to remove his belt, shoe laces and everything he has. He gave me his money discreetly with the belt. When they check his pockets, they don’t find any money.

“Where is the money which he supposed to pay at the embassy?”asked the police.

“We were going to ask full information. He doesn’t plan to pay today.”

They said;” We don’t search through a lady’s purse, you open it and show us what you carry.”

I picked my chap stick and coin’s bag, tissue paper, pens…one by one and put it on the table. They took all the money I had. I complained how we can go back to our flats. I told them from which side of town we came. They gave me 100 KSH to go back, and then we were free to go.

I lived fearless in that place. I went to places following maps. I know all the market places. I love the people. I even went to visit my good neighbors twice. I made friends from a small child to old people. When I visit Nairobi, I don’t have to rent a hotel or guest house. I stay at my Kenyan friend’s place. I just email them and they come and collect me from the airport.

When I was living there I only had two problems with the police. But my Rwandese neighbor had it rough. She had a small shop in Kayole. She immigrates with her two sons and her husband. Every evening, the police knock her door. They take their share from the little profit she made. She always curses the police. Unless she works, she can’t feed her family. The bedding she made, the sweaters she knit, I still imagine of it. She was a very talented woman and her work was neat. One night, her family packed and left the country. She doesn’t say bye to any of her friends. Hope the next destination is better place for her.

I think police should protect us when we are harassed by others. Whoever we are and wherever we are, the police should be there for our safety. When we are in danger, we think of calling a police. If the police abuse his power, to whom shall we turn to when we are in serious problems?

Six years ago, I flew to Kenya. There are eleven Ethiopians on the same flight with me. They were flying to Dubai. One of the girls asked me to fill the form to her. The air craft landed. I grab my small back pack and say bye to her at the terminal. She followed me and asks me what time she’ll fly to Dubai.

I went to the information desk. They told me they’ll check in after 14 hrs. One young girl worked from immigration stuff, gathered the passengers who’ll connect to Dubai.

“Are you also going to Dubai?” she asked me.

“No.”I said.

She asked the girl the same question. The girl doesn’t speak English. I answered on behalf of her.

“What is your connection with these people?”

“I don’t know them but we were in same flight.”

“What are you doing with this girl?”

“She asked me to fill the form in the terminal in Addis. I helped her. She also asked me to fill her form here.”

“Why you help her?”

“I was taught to help others. In Ethiopia, we give help for people who need it.”

“This is Kenya, not Ethiopia. You can’t help anyone here.”I got infuriated. “There’s a direct flight from Addis to Dubai. Why they want to stop over here? They must be terrorist. Or they have connection with terrorist. If you want to speak with these people one second more, you’re going to be deported back to Addis. ”

I know my right. I wanted to confront her. I remember I was not home. If I faced this immigration officer, she’d have deported me to show her power. I think the other way. I didn’t want to waste my air ticket not to bring measured justice. I don’t even know what the fate of those eleven Ethiopians was.

So, remembering all this, I don’t encourage you to roam around town to email. Tell me please if there is a change around the refugee’s lives in Nairobi. Please be wise. Unless you know how to interact with those people, you’ll put your life at risk.

I do believe in you. But I’m worried for Gizaw. If things are still going the same for foreigners as before, he might be fighting with the police. You know young boys have no patience. God be with all of you.

All my families and friend are missing you.

Best regards