Parking, Kashata and why Nairobi is a Dead City

On Kimathi Street and Banda Street in Nairobi's CBD, there is a group of young people who spend most of their day and a significant part of the evening there. There are similar groups all over the city, but these are the ones I know best. We know each other by name. Their job, such as it is, is to help you park your vehicle. They'll show you to empty parking spots and keep an eye on your car (and even phone you in the office if you've forgotten to pay and are about to get clamped). Off Banda Street, behind Jamia Mosque, is Play House Avenue (really - that's its official name). There, there's a bunch of buibui-clad women who are the most reliable source of coasterian snacks in Nairobi - kashata, mabuyu and the like. We share stories - all of us; some often ask me for career, sartorial and financial advice, and generally get along as any neighbours would in a busy city.

These people are a fixture of the cityscape. They are a tiny cog in the wheel that is Nairobi, even when that wheel is often greased with corrupt lubricant. They serve a purpose, and they take that purpose quite seriously.

The issue to me, then, is why our rules and laws continue to pretend that they don't exist. I've had to bail out several of these guys when they're being harassed by the City Council, often for little more than just existing. County askaris will swoop in, confiscate the wares of some poor lady selling cassava chips, and throw her in the back of a filthy van (which is itself unroadworthy). The most galling thing about this is that the askaris are fully backed by some archaic law prohibiting 'loitering' or 'hawking'. Yet these parking guys, and food vendors, wake up in the morning, perform their ablutions and come to 'work', same as you and I. The only difference is that they work on the street and have to constantly look over their shoulders and have a loose 500 bob ready should they need it to secure their freedom. The most heartbreaking thing I came across is a group of younger parking guys who had banded together to acquire a shoeshine shed, to supplement their tips from car drivers. One night, City Council thugs swooped in and gratuitously destroyed those sheds, simply for kicks. It made me so angry that I tried to even call the Governor (luckily the call didn't go through, otherwise I'd have used some rather choice language).

It's unbelievably stupid, and it's remarkably cruel. Worst, it leads to a greater disrespect for the law. This is because, like it or not, these people will continue doing what they do, whatever a City Hall by-law says.

So why don't we simply break this nonsensical pattern? Licence the parking guys, and issue them with recognisable gear (such as hi-viz jackets). In return, give them the responsibility to monitor their area of work for crime, cleanliness etc. They themselves will weed out their less well-behaved colleagues (the crowd around City Market is not the best).

As Mohammed Hersi once said - many cities around the world take pride in their street food, highlighting it in tourism brochures and getting it featured on international television. For us, our street life is something to be ashamed of. Something to keep hidden away in the pursuit of an idealistic picture of a Nairobi that never existed, except when it was a segregated city.

Let's get a bit clever, and accept that Nairobi belongs to all of us - from those who wear three-piece suits to those who help them park their cars and sell them a mid-morning snack.