My First Visit To The U.S.

Growing up as a child, I dreamt of going to study (and work) in America. Even with adulting, this child didn’t outgrow his dream. This child recently came alive as I made my maiden trip to the U.S. Here is my version of the Nigerian movie, Osuofia in London.

Give or take. Every Kenyan child, must have fantasized with the American dream. Blame it on the American-authored books that we read. Or the American movies or TV programs splashed on our screens. All about the grandeur in the USA.

America was the paragon of our careers, pleasure, success and vanity.

Shared spaces on Airbnb are not for the faint hearted. It’s like the Big Brother Show, on CBS. Or The Real Housegirls Of Kawangware, on KTN. Ni ma drama mob.

Our abode was the typical American house you see on movies. With a patio, a laundry space with nicely-connected double washing machines. It’s only a perfectionist host who could ensure it had a well lit and organized kitchen space. Neatly arranged bar stools. And a double door fridge and freezer.

Its dining and living area were modest, with a green colored wooden piano. Decorated with Halloween stuff, considering it’s October. Facing Pennsylvania street and overlooking Methodist University Hospital’s parking.

It was the American dream. Albeit short-lived and sweet!

Taking in this view, I remembered my high school friend, Ng’etich. He lent me a copy of ‘Think Big: Unleashing Your Potential For Excellence‘. An inspirational book by Dr. Ben Carson, written to those with shattered dreams. He is the famed American retired neurosurgeon, academic, author, and politician.

As an impressionable teenager, I was dazzled by his academic and career fete. Defying the ravages of poverty, an illiterate mother and a deadbeat dad, Ben rose to the future of his fully unleashed potential. All I wanted was to become a doctor, just like him.

With his brain and scalpel in hand, Ben cut through the noises of naysayers.

I knew it! My 15-year career path was cut out. I aimed to study Medicine, General Surgery and Neurosurgery. Each for five years, and in that order.

Fast forward, more than two decades later, my career path took a totally different tangent. When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade.

I cut through people’s lives. Not with a scalpel, but with a writer’s pen.

Dejected, I missed the entry grade to study Medicine (locally). My father’s U.S. connections weren’t as forthcoming in putting me on a flight to the land of plenty.

My dreams were shattered. At my father’s behest I joined a Kenyan public university and studied Biomedical Science and Technology. This was going to be the closest I would get to becoming a doctor. My unyielding passion to study Medicine drove me to work at the Chiromo mortuary. For a fee, I dissected cadavers for postmortem and dressed dead bodies for burial!

Let bygones be bygones. I vividly remember Pastor Muniu preaching on Campus Freshers’ Orientation Day. With exuberant banter, he reminded us that Life doesn’t give you what you deserve, but what you negotiate for. I needed to hear that. God blesssh yah!

Those who got ‘As’ (Government sponsored) were huddled in the same lecture halls with those who got ‘Bs’ and ‘Cs’ (Self-sponsored). This was 8-4-4’s experiment that mindlessly churned out thousands of graduates into a flooded job market.

The race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong. Neither bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding. Nor yet favor to men of skill. But time and chance happens to them all.

Ecclesiastes 9:11

Many moons later, after graduating and working for more than a decade, I unexpectedly got this opportunity to attend a two-week conference in Indianapolis, U.S. Woolah, I was super excited. Going to America is all I could think or dream of in the weeks preceding the trip.

Shortly, I contacted my few U.S. friends. Telling them of my upcoming tour.

Then I realized, U.S. has 50 plus one States. This means, when someone says they are in the U.S., it’s not one country as we think in Africa. Rather they are in one of the compact, elongated or fragmented 50+1 States. History says that these State maps were shaped by rail and canal construction, besides the 18th century slavery issue.

Arguably, the U.S. is a half-continent in its own right. Considering its over 9 million km² land mass, compared to Kenya’s 580 thousand km². As of 2021, U.S. had a bulging population of over 331 million, unlike Kenya’s approximately 51 million people.

In my excitement, I thought I would get the chance to meet all my U.S. contacts. But whoa, the country-cum-continent is massive! I was only travelling to Indiana State, which I further learnt is on the Midwest.

I started hearing U.S. geo-coded terminology, like East and West Coast.

The three people on my U.S. meet-the-people Wishlist were Collins, a high school friend who resides in Los Angeles, California, in the West Coast. Korry, a family friend living in Dallas, Texas, in the West South Coast. And Sue, a former colleague who settled in Minneapolis, Minnesota, in the North Central.

With my trip schedule and physical distances between these States, I accepted the fate of not being able to break bread or fellowship with them. I settled to travelling and coming back with my own version of the U.S. experience.

Given a chance I would have negotiated to meet my childhood American WWF heroes.

For once, we were on the same area code (+1). In our childhood, we couldn’t wait for Tuesday nights after the 7 p.m. Habari to watch Hulk Hogan, Yokozuna, the Undertaker and my all-time-favorite, Shawn Michaels, fighting in Wrestle mania or Smack down!

Some dreams are just that, dreams.

Getting the U.S. visa was a miracle. It deserves a standalone story. Wueh!

For now, journey with me to the airports, skies, connecting flights, hotels, Airbnb and Uber rides.

My Qatar Airways flight (#QR1336) ascended the JKIA (Nairobi) skies on Saturday, October 7 at 6pm. A long and torturous 24-hour journey to Indy with two layovers, in Doha (Qatar) and JKF (New York). We descended into the vibrant IND (Indianapolis) on Republic American Airways flight (#AA4504)) on Sunday, October 8 at 1:30pm.

For a moment, I imagined myself as a 20 year-old on an education scholarship traversing the continents, with large swathes of land across the Atlantic Ocean. Besides the imposing airports that one can easily get lost in the human traffic.

I salute the young people who braved the American dream @20.

On the flight, food, drinks and media were plenty. There were striking differences between the Qatar and American Airlines. Flight attendants on the American Airlines appeared to be in their 40 or 50s, while those on Qatar Airways appeared to be in their 20 or 30s. Bundled in that difference is the diversity of cultures, systems and stories.

Then there is the difference of travelling premium, business or economy class. For such long flights, the extra space, drinks and pampering is no luxury.

Thank you for asking, I travelled in the economy, a.k.a. cattle class.

Arriving in IND. I braved the biting cold. This was some kinda chilly weather, between Fall and Winter seasons. My face and hands were desperately exposed. My communication to the hotel was through WhatsApp, riding on IND_PUBLIC_WiFi. I imagined how a 20 year-old African maneuvered, without such technology in the 90s.

No welcome party. Nobody to tell me karibu America. It all felt like a hoax.

I first noticed that cars were left-hand drive and being driven on the right side of the road. Pedestrians too walked on the right side when walking past each other.

With my Kenyan pedestrian default settings, I severally bumped into people’s faces and feet. I found myself saying ‘excuse me‘ a thousand times. It was a whole new world!

U.S. hotels offer bed only. Breakfast is a complimentary. Let’s talk food for a minute. Their dietary options were strangely new. For me, eating sandwiches, burgers and tacos sounded like having a breakfast meal all day. My typical meal is chapati with ndengu.

Alas! Eating from plastic plates, using plastic cutlery felt very strange!

If you stopped and asked anyone for directions, it was very confusing. You won’t get your typical Kenya directions of, ‘after you cross the road you will see a mabati church then a noisy pub….‘ Your classic American description was, ‘about two to three-3 blocks from here, turn left then right. You will cross the alley, then see the foyer…blah blah‘.

For directions, Google Maps was your friend. American English is different. Not difficult.

Trying to settle in my hotel room, I asked the Receptionist where to hang my clothes. She couldn’t understand my accent, so I rephrased, “Where can I keep my clothes?” She pointed me to the laundry bag. Feeling frustrated, I resorted to using my loosely translated mother-tongue. I asked, “Where I can I store my clothes?”

This time striking the pose of a clothes’ hanger with my hands and upper body. Like in the game of charades. She said, “Oh, you mean the closet?” Yeah, man! It was a clash of her Mexican and my Kenyan English.

Shucks! Could this be what they call culture shock?

Besides, everything was automated. The kitchen (induction cooker, toaster, microwave), water taps (sensor), laundry (machine), lighting (sensor), traffic (lights), room temperature (AC), airport security. Plus a host of other systems I wasn’t exposed to in my two-week sojourn.

America’s heavy reliance on technology is no secret. It is the developed world. Yo!

The few hotel staff I interacted with were Spanish-speaking, from Mexico, Haiti and the Dominican Republic. All were hustling 2-3 jobs.

America is a boiling pot of different nationalities and race groups.

Enough said. If you don’t see or hear from me in a while, please know that I am shedding off the 500+ calories I consumed from the U.S. foods and discarding my newly acquired American accent. You know what I’m saying?

All said and done, dreams are valid. In every adult is a child with a dream. What do you dream of? Do you speak about your dreams? Do you think about them?

What you speak influences what you think. Or is it what you think that influences what you speak? Either way, your speech becomes your thoughts, which in turn become your reality. Awaken the dreams of your child!

Joseph Ngaara is inspired by people’s life experiences. This is a true story. Views and opinions expressed are mine. Do you have an intriguing life story and need to share your triumph or tragedy? Email: j.mungai@hotmail.co.uk