Silicon Dreams of Nairobi

New Beginnings

Amani

Nairobi is buzzing with its usual chaotic energy as I step off the matatu and onto the busy streets of the Central Business District. My first day as an intern at Tech Horizon, one of Kenya’s most prestigious tech firms, is finally here. I am feeling a mix of excitement and anxiety, and my heart is racing with every step I take toward the towering glass building ahead.

I walk through the entrance of Tech Horizon, greeted by the cool air of the lobby. The walls are adorned with abstract art, and the floors gleam with a pristine shine. I am trying to stay calm as I approach the receptionist, who barely looks up from her computer.

“Can I help you?” she asks in a polite but distant tone.

“I’m Amani Nyambura, the new intern,” I reply, striving to keep my voice steady.

The receptionist picks up the phone and has a brief conversation. She then motions for me to sit down. I take a seat in a plush chair, my mind racing as I think about what the day will bring.

“Amani?” A sharp, businesslike voice calls out.

I look up to see a tall woman with a commanding presence approaching me. “I’m Mwikali, your supervisor,” she says, extending a firm handshake that feels almost too firm.

“Welcome to Tech Horizon,” she adds, though her tone is more professional than warm.

“Thank you,” I respond, trying to mask my nervousness.

Mwikali leads me through a maze of glass-walled offices and workstations, introducing me to various team members along the way. Everyone seems preoccupied, their glances fleeting before they return to their screens. I am just another intern, blending into the background.

“And here,” Mwikali says, stopping in front of an imposing glass door, “is our CEO’s office. You’ll be meeting him now.”

My stomach tightens. Meeting the CEO on my first day feels both daunting and significant. Mwikali knocks briskly before opening the door and stepping inside.

The office is sleek and minimalist—modern furniture, a large desk, and floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city. But what catches my attention is the man standing by the window, staring out with an expression of deep thought.

“Brian, this is Amani Nyambura, our new intern,” Mwikali introduces.

Brian turns to face us, and I notice the intensity in his gaze. He is tall, with a sharp, chiseled face that seems to carry a permanent hint of irritation. His eyes flick over me briefly before he walks over.

“Amani, welcome,” he says, extending his hand. His tone is polite but lacks warmth.

“Thank you, sir,” I reply, shaking his hand. His grip is firm, almost too firm, as if he is testing me.

“Brian,” he corrects, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looks at me. “We don’t do formalities here.”

“Right… Brian,” I say, trying to keep my composure despite feeling uncomfortable. There is something about him that sets me on edge, but I cannot quite pinpoint it.

Mwikali wraps up the introduction quickly, and we leave the office. As we walk away, I feel a sense of relief. Brian might be the CEO, but I sense a tension that makes our first meeting less than pleasant. I push the thought aside, focusing instead on the tasks ahead.

The rest of the day unfolds in a whirlwind of introductions and orientations. By the time I leave the office, I am exhausted. As I sit on the matatu heading home, my thoughts drift back to my brief encounter with Brian. I am finding it difficult to shake the feeling that he is not particularly thrilled to meet me. Well, that is fine by me—I am not exactly thrilled to meet him either.

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