My Nairobi: Remembering the people who made Westgate special

by Jayapriya Vasudevan I’ve lived in many places. Moved often. And finally found a happy home in Singapore. Or so I thought. About a year ago, I was told that we were moving to Africa. To Kenya. Nairobi. I was terrified at the mere thought of the move. And could only think of muggings and car jackings. What I found instead was a warm and welcoming country. With friendly people who love music, laugh a lot and take pleasure in the simplest of things. I found home. Yes, there are security issues. Just as they are pretty much anywhere. We were away for the weekend. In a remote place with very limited phone signals. A chance SMS from a friend alerted me to the fact that something terrible had happened in Nairobi. [caption id=“attachment_1132695” align=“alignleft” width=“380”] Reuters[/caption] Nothing prepared me for what it really is. The utterly senseless act of terrorism in a place that is familiar to almost anyone who lives in Nairobi. As details unfold of what really happened. And what continues to happen. I feel bereft. Not in a large look-at-the-number-of-people-who-died sense. But I think of the individuals whose lives touched mine. Every time I went to Westgate. The security guys at the main gate. Always trying to get us to put a Westgate sticker on the car. In return, umbrellas and car fresheners would be offered. I enjoyed our little conversations. The lady at the entrance of the mall who checked my handbag. Always respectful. And always ready with a “jambo, how are you today…” The guard at the bank. He wore a plastic helmet. And I often wondered how that would protect him. It probably made him feel better and probably didn’t protect him at all. The girls at Dormans café. They knew that I hated takeaway cups and would allow me to take a ceramic cup which I return on the way out. The ever smiling man at Nakumatt. Who would put away my groceries meticulously. So that the eggs wouldn’t break. And the milk wouldn’t spill. The people at the parking ticket counter. Laughing because I never got it right. Either my money would roll out without the ticket or the ticket would be stuck inside. They would smile and help. These are all people who made ME feel protected. Made my life better. Made me smile. These are also probably the first people to have been killed. I think about them. I cry for their lost lives and worry for their families. But they will be remembered. Always. Jayapriya Vasudevan is founder and managing partner of Jacaranda Literary Agency. She lives in Nairobi with her husband and daughter.