20 Hilarious Truths About Being a Foreign Doctor in Nairobi
- Scrubs, Scalpels & High Heels
- Sep 29
- 4 min read
Happy 4th Nairo-versary to me!
Four years ago, I moved to Nairobi for postgraduate training. Moving to a new city is one thing, but if you live or have lived in Nairobi, then you know this is an experience on a whole other level. It's a beautiful, chaotic, and unforgettable collision of worlds. One minute I'm deep in medical jargons, the next I'm stuck in traffic on Ngong Road trying to remember the Swahili word for 'I'm tired'- a feeling only this city's traffic can truly induce.
It’s a unique journey, and you start to notice the signs that you’re not just surviving anymore; you're adapting. Here are 20 signs you’ve officially arrived.😆
You know you're a foreign doctor in Nairobi when…
Your Swahili is a constant adventure. One minute you’re confidently saying “sema,” the next, you’re nodding earnestly to a patient's 10-minute story with zero clue what was said.
You can fix a floating knee but still don’t understand Nairobi’s weather. Cold mornings, blazing sun by 11 am, and a full-blown winter by 4 pm? 🤦🏾♀️
You’re constantly confirming that you are, in fact, a doctor. You could be in scrubs, with a name tag that literally says "Dr." on it, and someone will still ask. Mzee, but go off.
Once upon a time, someone told me I have to 'blend in'. So I showed up with my white coat...I don't do that no more. My white coats only make appearances for exams or TikToks 😆 You've learned that loyalty in this city is a subscription service, and you forgot to check the renewal date. You quickly discover that "we're a team" can have the same shelf-life as a carton of milk. It's the city’s crash course in becoming your own hype-person, lawyer, and bodyguard, all rolled into one.
You’ve survived your first rush-hour matatu ride to town. You held on for dear life while the makanga hung out the door and music blasted, and you emerged feeling like you had officially earned your Nairobi stripes.
I love these matatu graffiti art You’ve been surprised that "auntie" and "uncle" aren't default honorifics for every older person. You've had to restrain yourself from calling your ward nurse "auntie" out of pure West African respect.
You've gone from a culture where every auntie is your designated (and unsolicited) life coach, to a city where your neighbors don't know your name. You truly appreciate the privacy... right up until you get a nasty flu and realize no 'work auntie' is calling you to ask if they can bring you pepper soup. You find yourself weirdly homesick for the 'nosiness'.
Hapa na pale! 😍 (Here and there) You've finally understood the city's unspoken currency. You've learned that many interactions feel transactional, and you can now navigate the delicate dance of favors, expectations, and the inevitable "send something for lunch" text. It's not personal; it's just the Nairobi OS.
You've started using Kenyan-English phrases without thinking. You now say "me I think..." or ask "are we together?" in serious conversations or roll your 'rrrrrs' until you struggle to pronounce 'three'.😂 Because if your accent gives you away at the market, you’re dead meat. LOL.
A girl must shop!😀 You hear an Afrobeats track in a cafe and it feels like a hug from home. A Burna Boy or Asake song can provide enough emotional fuel to get you through a 6-day work week.
You've become a low-key pepper sauce smuggler. You've learned that the Kenyan definition of "spicy" is... polite. Too polite for the West African in me!
Nairobi jam can really teach you patience You've had to patiently explain what Jollof Rice actually is. You’ve given a calm, TED Talk-style breakdown on the fundamental differences between it and pilau, trying not to start an international incident. But anyway rice is rice, abi?
You've developed 'traffic-jam reflexes.' Without thinking, you move your handbag off the passenger seat and know exactly when to roll up your window. It's a silent choreography taught by the city's streets.
You've unconsciously dropped a Krio phrase like "Ar nor know?" and received a polite, confused silence.
Unpacking a package from home has become a sacred ritual. You carefully ration the smuggled spices and hometown snacks, because you know each taste has to last you for months.
You've looked at a plate of ugali and felt a deep, spiritual longing for garri. You respect ugali. But your West African soul just needs a different kind of swallow.
Well well well..... You've mastered the strategic consultant-joke laugh. It's a finely tuned art: just enough to show respect, but not enough to encourage a second one.
A girl and a hammer😍 You've mostly stopped the constant mental currency conversion... until you pay a big bill. Then for a brief, terrifying moment, you do the math back to your home currency and have a minor existential crisis. You’ve learned that for your own peace of mind, it's better to live in a blissful state of Shilling-only awareness.
Kenya has my heart for its endless outdoor activities. You've learned that "I'm on my way" can mean anything from "I'm just leaving now" to "I'm still in my pajamas." Your internal clock has been completely recalibrated. You now understand that "20 minutes away" can mean anything from 15 minutes to two hours.
You've had to recalibrate your expectations for social connections and romance. Coming from a land of communal warmth and grand gestures, you're navigating a different rhythm here. You realize Kenya has a subtle, ‘practical’ dating style. And after hearing everyone warn you to “run for your life” from Luo men, you’ve come to know that the infamous “Yoruba demons” have East African cousins.😝😂
It’s been some four years... still learning, still growing. But I can say without a doubt that I have done the most profound personal growth of my life in Nairobi- mentally, emotionally, spiritually. Nairobi has truly trained me... in surgery, in patience, and in the art of becoming my most authentic myself. For this beautiful, chaotic, and unforgettable chapter, I will always be grateful.
Until next time,
XOXO
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