I started writing a story.
Carve a thin strip out of the jungle and throw down some tarmac. Add traffic: trucks, people, cars, animals. Cows, goats, donkeys. Monkeys who refuse to use the crosswalks and do not look both ways before crossing.
Toss four million people into houses on either side of the road. This is Nairobi.
There are four things I love unequivocally in this city. One is the giraffe center, where you can feed giraffe and stand right up next to their heads. They are peaceful, and beautiful.
Two: an American coffee house, complete with flushing toilets, drinkable water, wireless internet and polite wait staff. You can read there for hours undisturbed.
The third thing is the Ngong market when it is not market day. It is quiet and you can buy almost anything. Avocados the size of softballs. Papaya and mango. Flip flops and kitchen utensils. Fabric, used sweaters, pashminas and sugar cane. Eleven different kinds of beans.
Number four is the ten acres of land south of Kiserian registered under the name of Visible Grace.
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