Soft power on safari

Being American in Africa usually comes with plenty of baggage. Elders and politicians blame their troubles on your trade policy. In the Islamic north, Americans are seen as blasphemous bullies; almost everywhere, they are seen as unapologetic polluters.

In Kenya, things are different. Americans are welcomed into hotels, into capital markets and, as Dick Morris recently proved, into presidential campaigns. Whether the credit goes more to the State Department's skills or to Kenya's natural affinity, the alliance should be studied for lessons the US could apply elsewhere as it vies for influence in a difficult region.

Big jeeps with diplomatic plates are partly to thank. The (American) President's Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR) has been putting $200 million into Kenyan hospitals and clinics. Awareness of the plan is spreading, helped by nifty signage. The US has also increased its commitment to help the UN and the Kenyan government deal with half a million refugees from Congo, Somalia, Sudan and northern provinces.

In a country where things seldom change, the past counts for a lot. A middle-class Kenyan tells me that "our British and American brothers gave us a lot" in the cold war. It's open to argument whether the kind of militarised help given in cold war did all that much for the economy, but most Kenyans aren't economists. And in any case, the effect was to help keep Kenya broadly onside. "We are capitalists, even though our neighbors are not", as my acquaintance says.

A majority supports the war in Iraq: memories of the bombing of the US embassy in Nairobi nine years ago remain fresh. There is a mostly warm welcome, too, for the US Africa Command (AFRICOM), a new military (and civilian) operation announced this year by George W. Bush. Mr. Bush is seen from here as a man of faith and vision: it helps that Kenya is 80% Christian. Those less keen on Mr Bush can idealise Barack Obama, whose father was Kenyan. A local beer, once called "Senator", has been re-named "Obama" in the candidate's honour; his grandmother, Sarah Hussein, has become a political voice and a media figure.

Kenyans see America as the land of opportunity. More of them work and study there than in England, the former colonial ruler. They send back remittances. Those returning from exchange visits show an unusually strong desire to maintain connections. I'm forever bumping into people who want to move to America. A man in Kibera says to me that the only anti-Americanism he encounters locally is among people denied green cards.

For those who stay home, Americans come to them, and they are not at all bad ambassadors. With more than 86,000 visitors in 2006, the Americans surpassed Germans as Kenya's top shoppers and safari trotters. Hotels, flower vendors and hair-braiders line the roads with rates and specials and the odd Whitney Houston poster. You want it? No problem, Bwana. Americans, whether tourists or soldiers, mean jobs.

Of course there are anti-American voices. Columnists in The Daily Nation, Kenya's top newspaper, say AFRICOM is an economic and military invasion. They blame the US for gridlock in the Doha trade negotiations, and for slippage on human rights. Kenya's labour minister recently said publicly to the US Ambassador that "the greatest violators of human rights, democracy and transparency are not in Africa, but are in the US."

Some Americans, fearing extremism, may also look nervously at the rising proportion of Muslims in Kenya's population, currently around 10%. In December's general election the Muslim vote is being courted specifically by candidates for the first time: the release of Kenyan terror suspects at Guantanamo Bay is becoming a campaign issue.

You can sometimes catch in the air of Kenya a whiff of the 19th century revisited—with Americans wearing the explorer-cap, and Asian investors and immigrants taking the place of Arab traders. Chinese firms are undertaking infrastructure projects with far fewer preconditions than their Western rivals. Indians already own some of Kenya's largest companies. But Americans still own the aspirational high ground. My Kibera acquaintance, talking of development aid, says: "Americans I trust; I know they are honest ... Kenyans I don't." Which I would categorise as far too harsh on Kenyans; but a welcome change from what you usually hear abroad about Americans.