In Christchurch, New Zealand, a sign outside an old building declares it “slightly haunted but manageable.” Elsewhere, pedestrians are jokingly warned to maintain a walking speed of exactly 2.83km/h. These aren't new city by-laws, but a public art installation designed to make people laugh.

This playful disruption, far from being a niche story from halfway across the world, opens a conversation right here at home. It forces us to ask: How do Nairobians interact with their own public spaces? And in a city teeming with official notices and commercial billboards, is there room for art that simply wants to create a moment of joy?

The signs are the work of artist Cameron Hunt, part of the Little Street Art Festival. His goal, he noted, was to create “moments of confusion, followed by little bursts of joy” by mimicking official signage with absurd messages. The Christchurch city council has embraced the humour, with one official calling the signs “truly delightful.”

The public reaction has been overwhelmingly positive, with residents sharing photos online and turning the signs into a city-wide treasure hunt. Some were initially confused, with one person posting on Reddit to ask if the walking speed limit was real, only to have others point out the satirical “Christchurch City Confusion” logo.

A Different Canvas: Nairobi's Streets

Here in Nairobi, the city's walls tell a different story. Our streets are a vibrant canvas for artists who often mix creativity with activism. Collectives like Graffiti Girls Kenya use murals to address serious issues like gender-based violence, while projects in Kibera and Korogocho have focused on promoting peace and community cohesion. This art is powerful and necessary, transforming neglected spaces and giving voice to the voiceless.

Yet, the relationship between street artists and authorities has historically been tense, with the work often viewed as vandalism rather than culture. While initiatives like #ALAAA!, supported by the Nairobi Metropolitan Services, aim to beautify the city with murals, the playful absurdity seen in Christchurch feels a world away. Our public art often carries the weight of social messaging, from demanding political accountability to celebrating cultural identity.

The Christchurch experiment highlights the potential for a different kind of public engagement. It’s not about solving a problem, but about sparking a shared moment of humour. It begs the question for Nairobi's urban planners and artists:

• Could playful art co-exist with activist murals?
• How can public spaces be used not just for instruction and commerce, but for connection and delight?
• What would a “Nairobi City Confusion” sign even say? Perhaps “Matatu ETA: Inshallah” or “Beware of Falling Campaign Promises.”

While details remain scarce on the long-term impact of a few funny signs in New Zealand, the conversation they've started is universal. As Nairobi continues to grow, finding space for creativity, humour, and simple joy on our streets might be just as important as building the next skyscraper.