Sign up with your email address to be the first to know about new products, VIP offers, blog features & more.

Whispers of George Town: Tales and Strangers

Growing up in Africa, you’re always caught between the weight of history and the pull of what’s to come. You learn early that life doesn’t move in straight lines—it twists and shifts, sometimes calmly, sometimes like a storm. And when I left home for Penang, Malaysia, I carried that sense of constant motion with me, unsure of what I’d find, but knowing it would be something new.
It all began with my Grab driver, an Indian woman with a kindness that felt old and familiar, like a warmth you didn’t realize you needed. She didn’t just drop me off and move on. Instead, she chatted with me like she had all the time in the world, and when I mentioned I hadn’t yet eaten, she smiled and gave me a recommendation: Nasi Kandar in George Town. It wasn’t the food itself that struck me—it was how she cared, how in a few minutes of conversation, she offered something from her world to mine, with no rush, no expectations.

George Town’s Gradual Charm

George Town isn’t the kind of place that hits you all at once. It’s subtle, revealing itself in small moments. I noticed that as soon as I boarded the bus. People moved with an easy rhythm, and there was no rush, no pushing, just a gentle pace that invited you to slow down, too. When I helped a woman with her bags, I saw the surprise in people’s faces. They smiled at me, like my offer of help was a small but welcome break in routine.

At the guesthouse—”We Love Guesthouse”—I didn’t even have a chance to settle before a conversation started. A quick chat about Kenya turned into a friendly stereotype about how Kenyans love to run. Before I knew it, I was being invited on a hike up Penang Hill. This is how George Town gets you—through quiet invitations, not grand gestures.

The Pulse of Little India

The next day, I wandered into Little India. The moment you step into this corner of George Town, you know you’re in for something different. The air is thick with the smell of spices, music pours from shops, and the streets are a blur of color. It’s not a place trying to impress—it just is. Life spills out in every direction.

As the sun set, the streets took on a new life. Strings of lights glittered overhead, and food stalls appeared as if summoned by some invisible hand. I couldn’t resist. I wandered from stall to stall, sampling sweets and snacks, pulled along by the sights and smells. Little India wasn’t a tourist attraction; it was life lived out loud.

A City of Layers

George Town’s history doesn’t announce itself—it just sits quietly, waiting for you to notice. You walk down a street, and you’re suddenly surrounded by British colonial buildings, Chinese shophouses, and temples of all shapes and sizes. My host, Jackie Chan (no, not that Jackie Chan), handed me a map, and I set off to explore.

The streets seemed to whisper stories of the people who had passed through, each adding something to the city’s fabric. On one street, a woman on a scooter slowed down as she passed, calling out “negro” in a tone that was more curious than anything else. It was jarring but not hurtful. There are few black travelers in George Town, and in that moment, I felt more like an oddity than an outsider.

Then there was the “Street of Harmony.” Its name sounded grand, but the reality was simple: different communities living side by side, building a life together. The architecture told the story—temples, churches, and mosques standing within blocks of each other. It wasn’t a statement; it was just how things were.

Walls That Speak

The street art in George Town is the kind that catches you by surprise. You turn a corner and there it is—bold, playful, sometimes with objects attached, like an old bike or a swing. The murals tell the story of Penang’s culture, its people, and their quirks. There’s humor in the art, a lightness that makes you stop and smile.

One of the artists, Ernest Zacharevic, has become a local legend, painting scenes that blend so seamlessly into the city that they feel like they’ve always been there. I became a part of it too, without even realizing. People stopped to take pictures of me, the curious black traveler wandering through their streets. It was a strange but warm feeling—like I had, for a moment, been added to the city’s living gallery.

The Flavors of Penang

If George Town’s streets are its heart, then its food is the soul. Penang’s cuisine is legendary, and for good reason. The street vendors here serve food that’s unmatched by most restaurants. Nasi Kandar was just the beginning. I tried everything: Assam Laksa with its tangy fish broth, Char Kway Teow’s smoky noodles, and sweet, refreshing Cendol to cut through the heat. Each bite felt like a story—a piece of Penang’s history on a plate.

New Friendships on the Hill

That hike up Penang Hill? It wasn’t just about the climb. It was about the people I met along the way. I bumped into three Japanese travelers—Sho, Akana, and Shohta—who had been to 28 countries, including my own. We swapped stories of Nairobi, where they’d tried Ugali and fish, and they told me how their travels had been shaped by both adventure and misfortune—like getting stuck in Africa due to Covid. We laughed, traded tips, and promised to meet again somewhere in the world.

I also met a Dutch lady who had long dreamed of visiting Africa but was held back by fears of danger. We talked about the misconceptions people hold about the continent, and how much more there is to see than the stereotypes suggest.

Everyday Moments

Sometimes, it’s the smallest things that make the biggest impression. Like when I splurged on a fruit plate and a can of Fanta, not because I was hungry, but because I couldn’t resist the temptation. A local later explained that in George Town, buying a drink when you sit at a table is almost a tradition. It’s how small restaurants make their money, with drinks often being more profitable than food. It’s a small act, but one that keeps the gears of the city turning.

As I strolled through the city at night, a rather peculiar sight caught my eye—an unassuming figure dressed in modest attire that strangely resembled a Catholic nun. This “prostitute in disguise” seemed to have taken a unique approach to her career. Far from the conventional image of seduction, her comically unsexy appearance left me wondering if she had perhaps misjudged her chosen path.

In a town where temptation hides around every corner, she stood out as something else entirely. It was a reminder that nothing in George Town is ever quite what you expect.

share
4 Responses
  • Gideon
    September 19, 2023

    Amazing

  • Anonymous
    September 21, 2023

    I want to jump out of my skin!

  • Moh
    September 21, 2023

    Good story line.Excellent vocabulary.still waiting on the Catholic nun continuation

  • Anonymous
    August 6, 2024

    I keep coming back, checking to see if there’s a new post
    We love your work, please keep writing (and posting).

What do you think?

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *