It was called the City in the Sun for good reason. I took for granted the landscaped boulevards, parks, and gardens lush with subtropical vegetation. The sun shone reliably, never enough to need fans or heating. Each evening, downtown streets were washed clean of the red soil that stained white sneakers. Nairobi was among the first cities in the world to synchronise traffic lights to ease congestion. Planners from across Asia came to learn from it.

This city on the equator was a true crossroads — expatriates from everywhere, over 100 indigenous languages. It felt normal to be invited to a home where I understood only the host. Conversation was sparse, but food and hospitality created connection.

At every turn, school, street, friend’s house, I heard a language I didn’t understand.

I grew up sensing deep political and social shifts. Born in a colony, I watched independence emerge — unpredictable, nonlinear. My parents had lived under segregation. I was first denied entry to the neighbourhood school because it was for whites only; the following year, I was allowed in. Meanwhile, I regularly swam in the pool of the Queen’s last Governor to the colony. As a child, this felt unremarkable.

Our dining room hosted sworn political rivals sharing bread and wine. Serving tea to grown-ups, I overheard the tensions of maintaining non-alignment as the US exerted its will. I had known the laughter of men later assassinated after finding themselves in the crosshairs of political intrigue. I watched brilliant minds unravel, seeking refuge in alcohol, caught between the old order and the new.

As the grandchild of two interracial marriages, I belonged nowhere — yet was never excluded.

I navigated ambiguity and contradictions.

I didn’t yet know the language of complexity, emergence, or systems in flux, but I lived inside them. Nairobi was my first teacher. It showed me that order and chaos often hold hands. Belonging isn’t inherited; it is claimed in the in-between: between languages, loyalties, and the fading echoes of one world and the uncertain rhythm of the next.