Standoff

The mall is empty and the storefronts are still shuttered this early in the morning. I’m trying to find the clinic, which the security guard has advised me is on the second floor. What I don’t realize is that in Kenya, like the UK, the second floor is actually the third floor.

When I comprehend my mistake, I head for the escalator. There is another man also moving toward the escalator. To be polite, I slow down to give him the right-of-way. He slows down too. I slow down some more. So does he. Eventually, we are both face-to-face at the bottom of the escalator, at a dead stop, neither of us willing to go first. I motion for him. He motions for me.

It’s getting ridiculous. I step onto the escalator. He follows me. When I look back at him, he says,”Sorry, in Kenya we are taught to always show respect for someone who is older.” I search his expression for sarcasm, but there is none.

“You callin’ me old?” I exclaim indignantly.

He looks startled. I smile to show I am joking. He knits his brow, uncertain how to respond. I think I’ve offended him. I face forward and hurry down the escalator.