“Which tribe are you?”

“Hello Monique, which tribe are you?” During my earlier visits to Kenya I have been greeted this way many times. A greeting with a smile, showing a great sense of humour. Cause there is no question about it: obviously, I am a mzungu (white person).
Like everywhere in Africa, greeting rituals in Kenya are elaborate. When someone’s name does not disclose his or her background immediately, the tribal question is the next to ask. Previously a quite innocent question, solely meant to get acquainted. Nowadays a question that leaves a bitter taste. The tribal question has evolved into a very serious issue.

Ongata Rongai is a town located about twenty kilometres south of Nairobi. Kenyans from all over the county gather here and live together in peace. People who do not want to stay in the capital and who are able to afford a little bit more than a shelter in a slum like Kibera, are drawn to towns like Rongai. With inhabitants descending from all 42 tribes, this town is a successful example of a melting pot. Not without the regular fights or irregularities, but never with a racial undertone. Though sometimes statements like “I do not like the Kikuyu” could be heard in casual conversations in bars. But, in comparison: the Dutch are generally not that fond of the Germans either.

The big unrest did not reach Rongai in the past weeks. Because that is what life is like in this melting pot: the reality of peaceful coexistence prevails. Ongata Rongai turned out to be relatively stable. Hence it became a safe haven for many fellow Kenyans. From Kibera, but also from towns in the Rift Valley, refugees found their way to Rongai.

All of a sudden, the quiet is over. Ongata Rongai is overwhelmed by police. Inhabitants are summoned not to leave their houses. Tension is building.
And all of a sudden the violence is getting very close, leaving an even stronger sense of insecurity, as my love is living in Rongai. He is renting a small house in a local compound that acts as a symbol for the melting pot Rongai: several families living together, with a variety of backgrounds, also Kikuyu.
Everybody is forced to stay indoors, surrounded by policemen who indicate that they will not hesitate to use live bullets. It is unclear whether there is a serious threat of violence, or whether the police are only at their doorsteps to protect hem. One thing is clear: the police seem to be very good at provoking fear and confusion. A sleepless night is the result. And for the first time my love is using those dreaded words in a text message he sends me: “The issue is going into tribal.”