Gothenburg is a very small city. So small, that I know when a beggar’s spot has been taken over. So small, that I have met the same global warming propagandist (and they are many) fifteen times in the seventy something days I have lived here.
Living in a small city means that everyone is involved in each others business in one way or another. It means that if I fry my food with coconut oil the neighbours will know. And you wonder why I cook my Ugali at 3am? I bought a 2kg packet for 70 kroner (sh 770). I will use it sparingly.
See, a week after I got here I found met a Kenyan friend from Facebook in a shopping mall and he called out my name. Of course I was excited to meet someone from my home country.We agreed to meet but that is yet to happen. A few days later, while attending the Social Democrats press conference, I texted a friend in Italy and shared how lonely it could get sometimes.
Swedish journalists, unlike other journalists I have met elsewhere, are a bit antisocial. So, my friend in Italy immediately recommended that I meet her friend who had lived in Gothenburg longer. Everything happened so fast and in a few minutes we were going to meet outside Gothia Towers. Well, until a phone call came in and I had to cancel the meet up to go and check out somethings on the other side of the city. So I cancelled the meet up. Then I got distracted by group of refugee’s demonstrating and decided to take pictures. Guess who is right infront of me as I walk out of the demo point? Yeap, the lady I had just cancelled with. I knew it was a small town indeed!
A few days later, I mentioned that I was Kenyan to a group of Swedes that I had just met and they laughed out loud. Turns out a Kenyan woman once lived in their neighborhood did not leave a reputation to be desired. She shared bed sheets with everyone. Infact, one night at a house party, she got too farmiliar with almost all the men in attendance. It hit me, people talk!
A friend recently invited me for an event in the city center and I really enjoyed myself. Nice reggae music, that got me feeling bomboclat and tings. it felt like a little Jamaica in Europe. It was like the UN. We had Zimbabwe, Uganda, Tanzania and few hyper Swedes who love reggae. I was so excited and while trying to find out when the next event would take place my new friend cautioned me not to get too attached to the group. Turns out African men have attached their DNA on each other’s faces over the ‘blonde’ Swedish girls while the women have lost a strand of hair or two fighting over these ‘tall, dark and handsome’ men.
In a few days, I will be three months old in this city of the Rain forest. I have a lot to learn in this Country of the vikings but the most important lesson for me is to be discreet and selfish with my activities!