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It is true what people say about mountains. You soon learn that once you start mountaineering, you can never run away. Not ever. The only way out is in. It is how Cristina Nord has got Mt Ololokwe, the Alps, and Satima under her thumb.

‘I started hiking in my mid-20s, and I have always loved it madly,’ she says. The Director of Goethe-Institut has the big three in her sights: Mt Kilimanjaro, Mt Kenya, and Mt Elgon.

When she is not climbing mountains, she is scaling the pages of books-the axes she uses to break her mind free.

Recently, she completed a 1,200-page novel by German writer Peter Weiss, The Aesthetics of Resistance.

In our age of short attention spans, she is an ascetic, resisting and renouncing the siren song of convenience.

‘In the present world, there is more the danger of under-intellectualising everything,’ she says. ‘Many people look for very simple answers to very complex questions, which can be misleading.’

What is it like to live your life?

I like being in Kenya, and I study Swahili, but I’m struggling, also because I’m learning the sanifu version of it. Also, when I’m not working, I like being in the mountains. I’ve made a few attempts on Mount Kenya, but failed because of the very bad weather.

There was a lot of snow, so we only managed to reach that pass between the Chogoria route and the Sirimon route, which is at 4,600 metres. I’ll retry it.

Has there been a noticeable change in your life since you started hiking?

I started hiking a long time ago when I was in my mid-20s, and since then I have always loved it madly.

Like this August, I spent a bit of time in the Alps, and I really do enjoy it. However, I realised that I have grown a bit older and no longer have the stamina and the strength I had when I was in my mid-20s. Sometimes I wish I had come to Kenya 15 years earlier, because then by now I would have climbed Kilimanjaro, Mount Kenya, Elgon, and whatnot.

How do you keep yourself going despite the circumstances of climbing the mountain?

Good question, because when I did Elephant Hill for the first time, there was a moment when I was like, “What am I doing here? Come on.” And that was before reaching ‘The Tail’ end, that steep part. I was really struggling; I had difficulty breathing, and my legs felt very weak.

I know that I do have quite a lot of willpower, which makes me push through. However, I also have an assessment for situations that might turn dangerous. Then for me, the decision to not proceed is also not too hard to take. But in a situation like climbing Elephant Hill, it is willpower. I can see that ultimately, I can do it.

What is the most useful thing you’ve learned about life from being outdoors?

That you can do with very little. That being able to limit your focus to an activity that is, on the one hand, very easy-walking-and on the other hand maybe sometimes a bit challenging because you need to scramble, or it’s raining cats and dogs and you still need to go.

I think that you can adapt to that and have the most stunning experiences. That is a lesson learned.

Over New Year’s 2024, we spent four days hiking Loita Hills, camping in tents with Maasai guides, without electricity, running water, or sanitary facilities. I remember crossing a swamp to find fresh water, where we took a quick bath. It was one of the most amazing experiences I’d had in a long time. Those memories help put everyday frustrations into perspective when I’m back at my computer [chuckles].

Where have you gone that surprised you the most?

The Amazon. My colleague was based in Salvador, which is a very beautiful Brazilian city. I had the fortune to visit him quite often while he was there, and we travelled quite a lot together in Brazil.

One time we did a prolonged boat tour for four days on the Amazon River in the northern part of Brazil. We started in the city of Manaus and went upstream from there, but it’s not exactly the Amazon; it’s called Rio Negro. Eventually, we stayed for four days at a place where, in the river, there is an archipelago of islands. That was just the most surprising landscape.

I think the reason why I connected so immensely with that landscape was also that part of my studies were Latin American literature and culture. I had read a lot of novels and cultural theory that deal with the jungle as a topos. I was in a place about which I had read a lot about, and that was something which made me connect.

Where do you still dream of going?

I would love to go to Senegal and spend time in Dakar. I think I would also love to spend more time in Nigeria, going to Ibadan for instance, and more time in Lagos. And one of the islands in Lake Turkana, like South Island or Central Island. Then I also have to admit that I haven’t been to a lot of national parks. I would also love to go to the Mount Elgon area.

You mentioned your intellectual life. What book has most influenced the way you understand people?

[chuckles] That is a very difficult question for someone who’s read countless books. I can say that Latin American literature has influenced me-the way someone like Jorge Luis Borges works with a very interesting sense of alternative realities.

During my time at university, I was very familiar with texts by Walter Benjamin, Theodor Adorno, post-structural thought from France like Jacques Derrida, and feminist theory as well.

When I was 25, I read that famous book by Judith Butler, Gender Trouble, which was also important, at least back then. There is another French philosopher called Michel Foucault who was also important for me. He wrote a book called (Surveiller et punir: Naissance de la prison), Discipline and Punish.

There, he describes how the prison system was developed in Europe, starting in the 16th century, and how the system of punishment was transformed from a punishment that would try to repeat the offense-like if you steal, someone cuts off your hand-to a different type of system. He would not describe that as a linear progress, but in a more neutral manner.

Do you read differently now as compared to your 20s?

I definitely do read differently, a bit to my dislike. Simply, I no longer have that time. When I was a student, my life consisted of reading. Now my life consists of managing this place, which is a great thing to do, but at the same time it comes with several challenges.

I’m sometimes so tired that when I start reading, I fall asleep.

However, going back to the willpower thing, I still manage to read fewer novels, of course. I just finished, three or four weeks ago, a novel that had been with me for a couple of months, a 1,200-page novel by German writer Peter Weiss called The Aesthetics of Resistance. I was very proud that I managed, even though I have a lot of things on my plate.

I also try to read Kenyan literature or literature about Kenya. Currently, History of the Hanged by David Anderson who wrote about the 50s and the state of emergency in Kenya. Living here and doing the job I do, it’s my positive obligation to learn more about Kenya and get acquainted with Kenyan writers.

Does reading about the world diminish its experience of it?

No, it enriches it, because there’s the saying: the more you know, the more you see.

Is there a danger to over-intellectualising your life?

I don’t know exactly what over-intellectualising would be. I’ve always been someone who enjoyed thinking, and thinking further, and seeing how that enables you to go beyond what you’ve already known.

Currently, in the world we are living in, there is more danger of under-intellectualising everything [chuckles]. A lot of people look for very simple answers to very complex questions on many levels, be it political, societal, or about how people live together. I think that is very misleading.

In which part of your life do you allow yourself to be messy?

[chuckles]

With the books next to my bed haha! On Sundays when I’m at home, and to a certain extent on my desk, which I probably shouldn’t be because we have clean desk policies. At home, my computer is a bit of a mess.

You spent time as a film critic. If your life were a movie, what do you think the audience would be shouting at the screen?

Haha! What would they shout? Well, in Germany nobody shouts when going to the movies! Some might be a bit intimidated, without me wanting to achieve that. Some might be a bit dissatisfied because the way I’m leading my life does not tick too many boxes, and others would maybe applaud precisely because of this.

What is something you believe more strongly now than you did 10 years ago?

The importance of understanding others, especially those who do not share your views. The importance of understanding the world as an interconnected place in which isolation does not lead anywhere.

Before coming to Kenya, I had lived in Central America for a year and travelled a lot in Latin America. But seeing the differences between Kenya and a place like Germany is a very concrete experience which makes me think a lot about different perceptions. At the same time, there are a lot of things people share worldwide; that’s why I say it’s interconnected.

Climate change is one example: Africa bears consequences of industrialisation it did little to drive. What happens in Europe affects Kenya, and vice versa. I’ve learned to appreciate this interconnectedness not just in theory, but in everyday life.

What habit has most improved your life?

Being less strict with myself. I still am, but learning how to be less demanding helped. Do you know this Freudian scheme of the ego, the id, and the superego? Keeping your superego in check is a good idea. It can be a nasty creature, and very gluttonous, as it never gets enough. When I was in my mid-20s, I was not so good about it.

I became a bit better, at least I hope [chuckles]. I don’t work on weekends, except for occasional events we have. I want to be very open towards people, not judgmental, which is one of the things Kenya taught me.

When I go to Germany now, at the beginning I enter a store and say, “Good morning, how are you?” and people look at me as if I were utterly crazy! That illustrates how warm Kenyans come across when you’re coming from a place where that type of friendly, open, welcoming behaviour is not the norm.

Which advice that you got has stood the test of time?

Try to keep your superego in check, in the sense that you need to listen to yourself. You are not a machine. You can’t go on tirelessly all the time; you can’t be alert 24/7. You need your breaks; you need your rest. Maybe that’s something that comes with age.

I’m 57 now, and I realise that I still have a lot of energy, but not the way I had 30 years ago.

What do you splurge on?

I do like food and wine, and exquisite food like strange combinations of tastes. Not particularly luxurious ingredients like lobster, but when I’m in Berlin, for instance, I enjoy going to places where you get locally sourced food cooked innovatively, pairing

it with nice natural wines.

What is your most Kenyan habit?

Nyama choma! And when someone says “Good morning,” I automatically say “Good morning,” even though I’m elsewhere. In Germany, if a moderator comes to a panel and greets the audience, people wouldn’t greet back, which is totally normal here, and I tend to do it everywhere now.

What’s your idea of a great weekend?

Hiking an Aberdare mountain peak on Saturday and doing nothing on Sunday. Or a regular weekend: going to yoga on Saturday morning, reading a bit, meeting friends in the evening, and the next day doing a relaxed hike somewhere in Kiambu, or swimming because I like swimming a lot.

Who do you know that I should know?

Suhaib Ibrahim, a Sudanese filmmaker based in Nairobi. He was one of the co-directors of a beautiful film about the outbreak of the civil war in Sudan called Khartoum.

He’s really cool and nice, knows a lot about filmmaking, and also about making ends meet and thriving when circumstances are dire.

There was a time when a farmer in Kenya could expect a visit from an extension officer who knew their livestock, crop and animal diseases, management regimes, soil types and environmental degradation. In some cases the trained extension officers would advise on weather patterns for a specific commodity.

That relationship between the farmer and the person carrying out research in the laboratory and the field was one of the quiet strengths of Kenyan agriculture. It is a strength we have allowed to erode, and I believe it is time we admitted that plainly and did something about it.

I was recently part of a delegation of a few Kenyan university Vice Chancellors who met with a visiting team from the United States’ National Association of State Departments of Agriculture (NASDA). The conversation was candid, and it left me thinking hard about where our extension system went wrong, and where our universities fit into fixing it.

I remember with nostalgia the vibrant departments of Agricultural Economics and Extension Services across many universities whose enrolment capacities was always full.

The facts are not in dispute. Agriculture remains the backbone of our economy, yet the machinery that once moved knowledge from research institutions to the farm has fallen apart.

When agriculture was devolved in 2013, the intention was to bring services closer to the people. In practice, it fragmented what used to be a coordinated national effort. Counties inherited responsibility for extension without always inheriting the capacity, the budgets or the technical partnerships needed to deliver it.

Extension officers’ where available today are too few, too stretched, and too often without the transport or tools to reach the farmers who need them. Essentially, their roles are not visible.

What struck me in our discussions with the American delegation was not any new suggestion that Kenya starts from zero.

We have a history of extension work, decades of institutional memory, and universities with genuine research depth in crop science, animal health, soil management, environmental degradation, and agribusiness.

What we lack is the connective tissue – the deliberate architecture that gets that knowledge out of the seminar room and onto the farm. We have enough research extension materials to serve our country credibly.

The team from the US praised, understandably, their own land-grant university tradition, where teaching, research and extension are treated as a single continuous function rather than three separate activities competing for attention and funding.

I do not think we should import that model wholesale. Kenya’s counties, our university system, and our farming communities have their own character, and any solution must be built with that in mind, not simply borrowed.

But the underlying principle is sound and worth taking seriously: universities should not be islands of research divorced from the communities whose problems that research is meant to solve.

The few Vice Chancellors who attended the meeting noted with concern the vital role that extension services could play in food security in Kenya. This would also enhance employability of our graduates from universities.

This is why I believe the proposal now on the table – a partnership linking county governments, universities and industry in what has been called a “triple-helix” approach – deserves serious consideration.

Counties bring local coordination and policy authority. Universities bring research and training capacity. Industry brings resources and practical, market-tested expertise. None of these three can rebuild extension alone. Together, there is a real chance of building something durable.

It also matters that this conversation is happening at a moment when Parliament has just passed the Agricultural and Livestock Extension Services Bill, aimed precisely at giving the country a more coordinated, technology-driven and farmer-centred extension system.

Legislation alone does not train a single extension officer or reach a single farmer, but it gives us a framework to build on, and it signals that the political will Mr Ted McKinney, the group team leader, of NASDA rightly noted would be necessary is beginning to gather.

Partnership, at its best, is a two-way exchange. Kenya’s extension system will be shaped by Kenyan farmers, counties and institutions, and it is because ownership rests here that international collaboration can be so valuable.

Partners like NASDA bring practical experience from their own context, and their willingness to learn alongside us, as much as to share what has worked elsewhere, is what makes this a partnership of equals.

Set alongside our own local knowledge, those insights can help us build a system that truly serves our farmers. This approach is one of the low hanging panacea in food security.

Our Vice-Chancellors, especially those who have Faculties or Schools of Agriculture, have a responsibility here that goes beyond hosting delegations and signing communiqués.

If our universities are to be genuine partners in reviving extension services, we must be prepared to send our researchers into the counties, to design curricula that will produce graduates who understand extension work as a vocation and not an afterthought, to open up real job opportunities for fresh graduates in extension, agribusiness and agri-enterprise, so that young people leave our campuses with prospects while farmers gain the support they need, and to measure our own success not only in publications but in whether a smallholder farmer in Tharaka, Nyamira, Bungoma or Kwale can access the knowledge our institutions generate.

We used to get this right, and I believe we can get it right again.

Let us draw the best lessons from friends and partners abroad, adapt them to Kenya’s own realities, and build on the strengths we already have, so that we finally achieve the coordinated interaction between research and the farm that we have needed for a generation. This approach will be part of food security assurances.

Africa’s next monetary policy challenge may not originate in a domestic banking crisis or a sudden shift in global interest rates. It could emerge from the growing use of digital dollars that allow households and businesses to hold and transfer value outside conventional banking channels.

The adoption of dollar-denominated stablecoins, cryptocurrencies engineered to minimise price volatility, is increasingly being promoted as a solution to Africa’s expensive, slow and fragmented cross-border payment systems.

However, beneath these benefits lies a more consequential development. Stablecoins could change where African savings are held, how domestic banks finance lending and how effectively central banks influence monetary conditions. They could also deepen the reach of the US dollar into economies whose monetary authorities are working to strengthen domestic currencies and financial resilience.

The question for African policymakers is therefore not simply whether stablecoins make payments more efficient. It is whether the risks associated with their adoption are being transferred beyond the reach of national regulators and whether Africa is prepared for the consequences.

Stablecoins are digital tokens designed to maintain a relatively stable value against an underlying asset, most commonly the US dollar.

Their issuers typically hold reserve assets, which may include cash, bank deposits and short-term US Treasury securities, to support redemption at the promised value.

As the market grows, stablecoins can create an additional channel for international demand for dollar-denominated assets. For the US, a larger stablecoin market can strengthen the international reach of the dollar and potentially support demand for US government securities.

The scale of any additional demand depends, however, on where stablecoin funding originates and how issuers manage their reserves.

For African economies, the more immediate concern is the possibility that digital access to dollars could accelerate currency substitution. Where confidence in domestic currencies is weak, stablecoins may offer households and businesses a convenient means of holding dollar-denominated value without relying exclusively on traditional foreign-currency accounts.

This is not merely a technological shift. It could gradually change the relationship between domestic money, savings and economic activity.

So, what should African central banks watch out for?

The first question is whether stablecoins are primarily being used for payments or increasingly as a store of value. A business receiving digital dollars and immediately converting them into local currency creates a different monetary exposure from one retaining its revenues, savings and working capital in dollar stablecoins.

As access becomes easier, currency substitution could accelerate, particularly in economies already experiencing inflation or exchange rate instability.

The second concern is the potential impact on domestic banking systems. If businesses and households increasingly hold dollar stablecoins instead of local bank deposits, this could affect deposit funding, credit availability and monetary policy transmission. The impact depends on where the underlying funds ultimately sit, but central banks need to understand whether financial activity is migrating away from domestic institutions and how this changes their capacity to influence liquidity and lending conditions.

Third, stablecoins introduce dependencies on foreign issuers, reserve custodians and banking partners. Domestic regulators may supervise local payment providers without having direct oversight of the institutions holding the underlying reserves.

In a period of financial stress, the ability to redeem stablecoins depends on those institutions and their access to dollar liquidity. African central banks cannot create the foreign currency required to meet those obligations. Finally, regulatory frameworks need to account for these cross-border dependencies.

Supervising domestic intermediaries is insufficient without understanding reserve structures, redemption arrangements, concentration risks and the legal rights of stablecoin holders. Cooperation with foreign regulators will become increasingly relevant as adoption grows.

Stablecoins offer opportunities to improve payments, facilitate trade and expand access to international financial services.

However, their growing adoption also has implications for the distribution of savings, the funding of domestic banks and the effectiveness of monetary policy.

For African central banks, the priority should be to understand where financial risk and liquidity are being reallocated, and whether the efficiency gains from stablecoins come at the expense of greater dependence on foreign monetary systems. The question is not simply how to regulate a new payment instrument, but how its adoption could reshape the structure of African financial markets.