It is a well-known fact, and sometimes documented fact that Africans are bad time keepers. I disagree, they are good time keepers because they are neither late for work nor for flights, or is it because they are all too aware of the consequences. Yet there’s a very disturbing trend where they never keep time to meetings with friends, or to parties. A few weeks ago, I asked my closest and dearest friends and family what their thoughts were on the issue of time keeping. Majority echoed the fact that it is important to keep time and be conscientious, yet when it came to the question of why we are always late to meeting friends or to attending parties they said, among many responses, “it’s a cultural thing passed from generation to generation” or “it’s rude to turn up on time because the host will most certainly not be ready” or “extenuating circumstances may prevail e.g. traffic, weather, unexpected guest (no surprises) or “poor planning and juggling too many balls” etc.
I once worked in an office where there were more white English people than black Africans. That year we had to attend an annual event in Manchester. Usually the chosen delegation would meet in a coffee shop at the train station at least half hour before train departures for coffee and head count. I was among the chosen delegation; the plan was to meet at Euston train station at 8.30am then board the 9.00am train to Manchester. Then I overheard something truly disturbing – one of the organisers told another that they should tell Phúi that the meeting would be at 8.00. I couldn’t understand why they want one person to arrive so early and wait 30 minutes for the others. I did on the day. We (apart from Phúi) met at a café in Euston at 8.30 (I was 5 minutes late and thoroughly embarrassed). We had coffee, a small debrief and head count as we waited for Phúi. She didn’t show up, so at 8.40 we decided to head to the departure platform and board the train. I could see the annoyance on the organiser’s face: apparently this happened every time Phúi made plans with colleagues. I was beginning to understand why they said 8.00am for her and the rest 8.30; I have done that trick many times to the most notorious late comers (secretly hoping that they don’t actually arrive on time, because if they do, I’d never hear the end of it – it’s amazing how late comers get most offended if they are kept waiting!)
At 8.50, as most people boarded the train, Phúi screeched to a stop on the platform as if she’d ran all the way from her house. She couldn’t speak for lack of breath. She was sweating profusely, and unlucky for her it was beginning of summer. We were already on the train relaxed and well seated, she on the other hand was panting and holding her chest like she was about to pass out. People rolled their eyes and continued their chit chats, paying zero attention to her excuses, because it’s happened so many times they were by now immune. And to think she was given the wrong time in a bid to give her more time to be late, beggars belief. It got me thinking – are we late on purpose because we have no respect for other people’s time, or are we so selfish that only we matter and have zero regard for anyone else? I’ll probably ask these questions to the end of time and still have no answer.
I recall, once upon a time, my uncle and I were to attend a wedding. He was the designated driver, and we agreed he’d pick me up from a bus stop near my rented digs. The wedding was scheduled for 11 am start and we wanted to attend from beginning to end. We agreed that I would be at the bus stop at 10.00 because the journey would take at least an hour. I was at the bus stop at 0955 because I suffer from time-keeping-syndrome. At 1015 my uncle had not arrived but I did not panic because he suffers from African-time-syndrome. At 1030 I panicked a little, I thought of calling him but decided not to. At 1115 he still hadn’t arrived or even called. At this point I was having a hard time concentrating on the book I was reading. I reckoned there could be a million reasons as to why he was that late, so I gave him the benefit of the doubt, and waited for him to call me. That reasoning didn’t last long so I called him just before 1130. Before I could speak and ask if he had been involved in a fatal accident, he nonchalantly said “my sister’s daughter, don’t worry, am just around the corner!” and the phone went dead. From where I stood, there was no corner in sight, just an endless road on either side. Still I waited. At midday, I called him again while wondering where ‘around the corner’ was. Again, before I could speak he said, “I’m here, just here, wait 5 minutes”. Five minutes turned out to be 50 minutes.
It was 1 o’clock when he showed up. He didn’t apologise. He expected me to get in the car and we continue the journey. I was too angry anyway to talk. So, I got in the car and sat in silence. I pretended to read my book, but I was seething and thinking of several ways to punish him. He decided to break the silence by justifying his lateness, “It’s not polite to arrive too early at wedding ceremonies. We will now be right on time for the happier part of the celebrations.” I didn’t understand what he was on about and had no strength to ask. I had too many questions I needed answers to, but I also knew he’d be, absolutely, the wrong person to ask. Needlessly to say we were late to the wedding. Not surprisingly, we were not the only late comers. In fact, the officiating pastor/priest had arrived late too. “See” my uncle smirked as if that would justify why I had to wait for 3 hours. As I listened to a sermon that made little sense, I wondered if this African time keeping problem is a problem or part of our genetic make-up. I looked at the programme and knew without a doubt that the reception would start late. I must have been the only one concerned, so I relaxed.
Later that night as we drove home in silence, my uncle told me in no uncertain terms that I needed to reset my clocks back to African time now that I was in Kenya to stay and “save yourself heartaches!”
They say we’ve been westernised hahahaha. Being kept waiting is one of my pet peeves too.
Oh how I dislike people who keep you waiting, or as you call it African-time-syndrome. I remember once I was supposed to meet my mum at a shop in town in Nairobi. I was traveling from Satellite and she from Nairobi West. I dint want to keep her waiting so I skipped breakfast only to arrive and waited for two hours and she still hadn’t turned up. By then I was super hungry and angry. I took a matata to Nairobi West to see what was keeping her. When I arrived my aunt told me that mum had just left. Not wanting to talk much, I decided to have breakfast. Scrambled eggs on toast, and took my time. By the time I got back into town, mum was fuming like an angry buffalo.i was too fun to care actually, then after she had used up all her words in vernacular. I quietly told her that I had been there and had waited for her earlier. Let’s just say, these days she has been known to tell people , ” my daughter, no not that one, the one who is strict with time”