I still remember the first time I stepped into Nairobi. The moment I got off the matatu, everything hit me at once the honking, the shouting, the rush of bodies moving in every direction. The city felt alive and overwhelming, a far cry from the quiet I was used to. But even in that chaos, something inside me stirred, curiosity, maybe even excitement.

The smell of roasted maize lingered in the air as I made my way toward the Giraffe Centre. I had seen giraffes in books and on TV, but standing that close to one, with its long eyelashes and gentle eyes, was something else. I stretched out my hand, a pellet between my fingers, and watched in awe as a giraffe leaned in to eat. There was a quiet calm in that place, so unlike the city’s loud energy, and yet it made me feel like both belonged to the same Kenya.

Later, I visited Nairobi National Park. It still amazes me that just a short distance from tall buildings and busy roads, there’s this vast space where lions, zebras, and buffaloes roam free. I stood there, watching a herd of zebras move slowly across the plains, and behind them, the city skyline stood tall. It was like two worlds meeting, nature and concrete, without clashing.

I stopped by the Karen Blixen Museum, where I felt like the old house was holding onto stories. The wide veranda, the tall trees, the view of Ngong Hills it all felt deeply rooted, like the kind of place that remembers everything. Walking through those rooms, I thought of the people who had passed through, the voices, the dreams.

By the time hunger crept in, I found myself at Carnivore, the famous nyama choma spot along Langata Road. The scent of sizzling meat filled the air as waiters brought endless skewers to the table. That first bite smoky, hot, and perfectly charred tasted like something familiar and festive all at once. It wasn’t just about the food. It was the atmosphere, the laughter around me, the music in the background it all made me feel like I had stumbled into a celebration.

Before sunset, I wandered into Karura Forest. The city noise faded behind me as I followed the trails, listening to birds and the crunch of leaves underfoot. There was peace there, the kind that reminded me of childhood, the simplicity, the stillness, the air untouched by smoke and noise.

That day, Nairobi surprised me. It wasn't just tall buildings and busy roads. It was giraffes and forests, nyama choma and stories in old homes. It was wild and tender at the same time. A city that, in its own way, quietly pulls you in and says you belong here too. 

 

Agnes Irungu