By Vuyanzi Rodman
“What’s it like living in Africa?”
“I don’t know because Africa has 50+ countries and I live in one.”
Before moving to Kenya, unlike many other African Americans I met here, I was not internationally well traveled. Living here was more of a fluke. I came for the burial of a good friend’s loved one and simply fell in love with the place…The possibility of living on the African continent had, many years ago, been a bit of an interest, but I knew nothing of any of the countries except for the names — credit to KRS-One’s song entitled “Africa.”
And here I find myself in the most technologically developed country in East Africa: Kenya. I think there is a statement that sums up my experience and perception living here…
“You are a black-white American.”
This was said to me by someone who barely knew me, and I’m not sure he understood the depth of what that meant for my experience in Kenya. To understand it, allow me to provide some context. It began when I stepped off the plane into my new home country in August 2020, during the global pandemic, just as the government of Kenya announced the national curfew was moving from 7pm to 9pm. I was an American who had lived in the United States for over four decades, having only ever stayed within a 13-mile radius between New York and New Jersey.
But how does that relate to being a “black-white American”?
As an American — “Black American,” as I am called here — I, or shall I say we, bring so much with us that we do not realize. And it has created a view of us that I find interesting. When people find out I am American, as are generations of both sides of my family, I have been told time and time again, “Welcome home!” There is an understanding that I was lost and now I have been found. While I don’t hear it as often these days, I used to hear it often, and there are few words that can express the balm that greeting became to my soul.
One of the perceptions I encountered was that Americans have U.S. dollars — lots of them. This becomes quite evident when prices for things go up the moment people hear your accent. I’ve experienced this with motorbike riders I use for transportation to secondhand clothing vendors. Whether or not they know you’re American doesn’t matter — you’re a foreigner, and the perception of being someone from the outside is that you have money to burn. And that perception brings you closer to whiteness, or the idea of whiteness, and its equation with having money.
My American-ness overpowered the self-awareness I thought I had so much of in the States. There isn’t an inherent duality between the two, but one emerged anyway. I was excited because I had just moved to a brand-new country. Unbeknownst to me, I was loud, unaware — somehow I found myself unintentionally “announcing” that I was American, which put me in situations that were potentially dangerous, around people who were toxic. I eventually realized I could acclimate and still be exactly who I am. I simply decided to become more self-aware and discerning, and that changed everything.
Five years and many failures later, I still love this country. I live in Nairobi, Kenya’s capital city. For all her imperfections, she still brings me joy. She’s a city that doesn’t sleep — she teems with nightlife Monday through Sunday, in places where the spirits flow with ease. As a Gen X-er, you’ll get more than your fill of old-school R&B from the 80s, 90s, and 2000s, intertwined with popular British hits that, although 30+ years old, were new to me. You can hang with the younger crowd and hear Afrobeats, Amapiano, rock, and country music — yes, country music is quite popular here.
During the day you’ll find plenty of coffee houses and restaurants full of people working on their laptops while sipping lattes. You can shop the huge secondhand market or the small shops in the Central Business District, where you won’t want to carry your phone or wear jewelry.
I live in an area with a lot of expatriates and immigrants like me. It’s in places like these that unassuming Americans call things “cheap,” run up the streets, and go home broke. I was told by a Kenyan economist to “stop calling things cheap,” or else I’d pay more for everything. There are hardworking people who sometimes can’t afford what we casually call cheap — because here, it isn’t.
This is a city, so you’ll find crime, congestion, and another “C” word I’ll leave to your imagination. There are marches and demonstrations when there is injustice and corruption (sound familiar?). The extremely wealthy live in this city with slums (yes, that’s the word used here) just around the corner. But it’s the city that I love, in which I’ve found connections and community. It’s the city where I began to breathe better — perhaps because, for the first time in my life, I wasn’t “the only,” and I no longer carried the unrealized burden that came with that.
My experience has been shaped by my own thoughts, words, and actions. I’ve met other African Americans who absolutely hate it here. I’ve seen numerous people come and go. I’ve chosen to stay.
Now, the question: Should you come to Kenya? Should you move to Kenya?
Maybe. Maybe not.
But if you do, understand that you won’t simply be moving to another country. You will be meeting another version of yourself. Bring curiosity. Bring humility. Bring discernment. And perhaps most importantly, understand that you are not arriving as a blank slate. You are arriving with your own history, assumptions, privileges, fears, and lens.
Mine happened to be that of a Black-white American. Kenya didn’t erase that. It simply helped me see it.
Thinking About Moving to Kenya?
A few things to know:
Nairobi offers everything from luxury apartments to modest accommodations.
Mobile money (M-PESA) is woven into everyday life.
Internet is fast and reliable in most urban areas.
English and Swahili are both widely spoken. Like any major city, where you live matters.
Come curious rather than comparing everything to home.
Coach Vuyanzi Rodman is an American living in Nairobi, Kenya, where she continues her life’s work of helping people become more fully who they are. Today, she serves as an Executive Presence & Speech Advisor, working with leaders who want to command rooms and communicate with greater presence, power, and conviction.
An American’s Journey to Living in Kenya