Posted by Administrator on Apr 7, 2010 in
Kenya Every now and then, when I’m sitting in class, spending time with friends or working on an assignment, it hits me. In a little over a month thirteen fantastic people and myself are flying to Kenya, to Kenya. We are going to Kenya. No matter how many times I say it I still can’t wrap my head around it. It feels like I’m having one of those dreams that are so good you just don’t want to wake up. But I’m awake and this is really happening.
On May 7, 2010 we’ll be sitting on the tarmac of Toronto Pearson International Airport waiting for our plane to take off. We’ll be staring out those little oval windows, with our seat belts fastened tightly, our chairs in an upright position and giant smiles spread across our faces. A voice will come across the speakers, welcome us, give safety instructions and then before we know it the plane will be moving. We’ll take off from the runway and be on our way to Amsterdam where we will catch a flight to Nairobi. And once we land in Kenya our adventure will really begin.
The experiences we have will be ones we won’t forget. The memories we’ll make will be ones that will never fade. And I’m glad I’ll be sharing this adventure with such a great group of peopleJ. Kenya here we come!
Posted by Administrator on Jul 2, 2009 in
Kenya,
Projects International Development or International Developless
I have been back from my little continental adventure for a few weeks now and have had some time to reflect on the experience. I thought today would be an appropriate day to blog (seeing as we are celebrating this great country) about what was able to learn in Kenya through my Canadian perspective. Besides the most recent memories of Turkish immigration and Kenyan police stations I was finally able to contemplate on what it was I went there to do: learn. Kenya is a whole other world, none of which is accurately described by media or tourist brochures. Issues and perceptions of international development are even more skewed which is the biggest lesson I have brought back home.
A little over a month ago, whenever anyone asked me what I want to be “when I grow up” I would always say “I want to be involved in international development.” Did I even know what that meant? Does anybody? Does the term even carry with it a constant definition that reflects what the actual meaning is? The Oxford and Webster Dictionaries both define development as a “gradual unfolding” suggesting that the word is derived from the Latin “de” and “volutus” meaning “to unveil”. So wouldn’t that suggest that whatever is being “developed” was really there the whole time?
At any rate, the method by which “development” goes down on the ground is not always so developmental. Although small community development is small potatoes compared to the billions of dollars handed over to governments via bilateral and multilateral grants and loans, charitable volunteerism can and does affect people on a personal level.
Now for the rant:
Why do we, (as mzungu’s or gringos or whatever other foreign word you wanna use for the word “foreigner”) think that we can build better than locals, farm better than 10th generation farmers, dig wells better than community members and teach English better than locally trained English teachers and in doing this we can in some way “make a difference”? It’s just not logical people! In fact, in the process of actions such as these we can take away jobs from those who need them. For example, when free mosquito nets are brought in under the auspicious of “aid” there is a local somewhere who is losing business.
Among all my research there was one common thread that all successful development projects held. The benefactors of the development must be in complete control of the project. I won’t explain why this is so because it is obvious after my above rant. Only people who live in the area you are working in have complete and total insight to the issues that plague their community.
While on my trip I got answers to questions I didn’t know I had. I had perceptions changed that I didn’t know I held. I re-learnt lessons I thought I knew everything about and understood most importantly that the best way to help a community is to somehow show them their own capabilities. This is the exact opposite of most development projects out there as they almost all assume by virtue of our education or whatever, we can somehow fix problems we know nothing about and build things that a local can build better AND get paid for. I know there are many aspects to aid and clearly emergency aid is not included in this category and is deemed necessary at times. All I would like to do here is open minds up to considering the fact that maybe by what we honestly think is help can actually hurt. There and alternative ways to reach out to developing communities without having negative effects and the word needs to be spread. Learn from them, appreciate their culture, visit their countries respect their people….and DON’T believe everything you read…not even this;)
I recently picked up a book called “Dead Aid: Why Aid is not Working and How there is a Better Way for Africa” by Dambisa Moyo. It challenges perceptions of conventional aid and offers unique solutions to a significant problem. I just started reading it but I will keep you posted on my findings and whether or not the hard cover 2009 best seller is worth the 30 bucks.
Ciao for now
Dani
Posted by Administrator on Jun 18, 2009 in
Kenya What happens when you arrive in Turkey without a proper passport…
I made my 8am flight in the morning and settled in for the six hour flight into Amsterdam where I would transfer to Turkey.
Red Flag The woman at check in at the Amsterdam airport said she had to call Turkey to make sure they would accept my travel document as they normally do not. I assured her that it was issued by the Canadian consulate and there should not be a problem. I should’ve kept my mouth shut.
Lesson number five: Even though the Canadian Consulate is the Canadian Consulate this fact alone does not make them infallible. They can and do make mistakes. Always do your own homework, ask questions, and try not to let your own bias get in the way of staying safe.
They let me on my flight and I settled in for the two hour journey to Istanbul-Turkey with a flood of relief taking over my consciousness. The weather looked beautiful and I was excited to start this new chapter of my journey and experience independent travel. Once I arrived at the airport I took my handy dandy emergency travel document to the visa counter to purchase my oh-so necessary visa for entry into the country. Fun factoid-Did you know that out of all the countries that need a visa to get into Turkey-Canada’s is the most expensive at $60.00 US? Anyways, I got to the front of the counter and the man behind the bullet proof glass looked at me like I had a florescent purple spotted dorsal fin growing out of my ear with an elephant nose trying to escape out of my eye. Apparently my document did not allow me to get a visa. I was directed to the transit desk where they notified me that I was not allowed entry with the document. But I wasn’t really allowed out either because my document was only supposed to let me into Turkey…oh oh…Ever seen the movie Terminal? Yeah…that was me, couldn’t get in, and couldn’t get out. We spent the next couple hours back and forth on the phone with the Canadian Consulate in Ataturk. This all started about 10:00 am Turkey time, meaning that Ottawa was just closing its doors for the day as it was 5:00 pm back at home. I phoned my dad and described the nightmare I was living and he explicitly told me that I needed to stay calm and continue to keep in mind that I am Canadian and it would get itself sorted out. At around noon I was told that I would be put on the next plane home, which was the following morning. At that point, they asked to see my flight itinerary. Because I had booked my flight to Turkey from Kenya, and changed all my connecting flights because I lost my passport, by itinerary was all over the place, and that’s where the trouble began.
Lesson number six: If you do ever find yourself in this situation…which you better not after reading this story…make sure you stay calm so you can effectively communicate everything you need to especially when you’re circumstances can be misunderstood.
After trying to explain my travel arrangements, the nice gentleman who was helping me turned a little…hmmm…suspicious of me. Time was quickly passing and I was becoming increasingly frustrated with the circumstances. The prospect of sleeping in the airport was not pleasant. I was on the phone with my dad when a plain clothed man came to speak to me. I hung up and he asked what was going on and I proceeded to repeat the same story….again. As we spoke more and more people showed up until there was about eight of them all speaking Turkish and periodically asking me the same questions over and over. Then the plain clothed man asked to see my documents and “passport.” I gave it to him, and then he left.
Lesson number seven: We are told over and over and over to NEVER give your passport to anyone and let them leave with it. This was no exception, but I did, they were rather intimidating and they didn’t seem to care that I had “rights”. Sometimes the path of least resistance is the right way to go, always use your best judgment in cases such as these. But I still wouldn’t recommend doing what I did.
I was then taken to the security office where I would spend the rest of the day and evening waiting, and being asked countless questions by a plethora of police and immigration officers…..good fun! They kept asking me the same questions and every fifth question or so they would ask “Why are you here?” I’ll admit I wasn’t exactly Zen and I just kept repeating the same thing with little enthusiasm almost begging to be sent home. They wouldn’t let me call my dad, and they either ignored my requests to use the washroom or really didn’t understand what I was saying. They’re catch-phrase for the event was “lady…five more minutes.” Then perspective came a knockin. Another young lady was ushered into the office, also in tears. Selfishly I was happy she was there as she was the most comforting thing I’d seen all day. She asked if I had a Kleenex, I didn’t but offered her my scarf that I had been using as tissue and she reluctantly blew her nose into my knitted neck warmer-instant bonding! Over hearing her interview I came to learn she was from Poland and forgot her Visa at home. Apparently if you’re from Poland you MUST buy your visa while still there. They made her empty her bag, counted all her money, and when they found more change in her pocket, they looked at her with disapproval. I then realized just how well I was being treated and how lucky I was to be Canadian. They did not make me do any of those things. They even put her in a holding cell and the security officer told me that she would be there for two days. At that point I stopped the internal pity and hoped to continue my vacation, either way I didn’t care; I was a very lucky girl.
Lesson number eight: Never ever in your entire life not even once even for a millisecond forget how lucky you are if you carry a Canadian passport…please!
After a few more interviews and phone calls from the embassy a previously very scary gentlemen came in and he was smiling and said “let’s go.” This was around 10:00pm,I had been there for 12 hours, and they had been questioning me for 8 of those. For a second I thought it was some kind of trick, the idea of leaving that place was so foreign to me it took me a second to realize what was happening. They were going to let me in. I got up to leave and remembered Caroline, the Polish girl, locked up in that room. I could hear her crying. I felt almost guilty about leaving and promised that I would let this be a lesson I would never forget.
Lesson number nine: Even in the most seemingly hopeless circumstances you can find wisdom, you just have to be looking for it. So don’t dwell on all that is going wrong, be perceptive of other people’s struggles and you may just gain some perspective on your own, in turn making your life just a little easier to bear.
I was escorted all the way to my hostel and settled into my giant dorm room. After a nice shower I was ready for bed to finally begin what seemed like a dream…..I couldn’t believe I made it!!!
Now, to make a long story short there was a slight bit more passport drama in Istanbul but nothing compared to the previous. I ended up spending a few days at the consulate sorting everything out. Here’s a short guide to what you need if you lose your passport and you’re on your way to the consulate.
1. Address and phone number of consulate. If you’re in Istanbul it WILL take you a while to find it. But it was like an Amazing Race challenge so I just made it fun and hoped for a clue box to pop up..it didn’t..so I asked people on the street.
2. Two identical passport photos. Make sure they are specified for a Canadian passport. If you’re in a non-English speaking country you may have to go to a few different places to make sure the photographer understands what you need.
3. If you don’t have a guarantor in the country (which if you’re young and traveling you probably don’t) bring with you the Names, addresses, and phone numbers of FOUR people that have known you for at least two years. You may also want to contact them so they can try to be accessible during those 24 hours or so.
4. You’re home addresses of the last 5 years.
5. Places you’ve studied and worked in the last 5 years-including addresses and telephone numbers.
6. Birth Certificate-not absolutely necessary but it sure helps…I almost had to apply for that too. I only had my health card that they eventually accepted.
7. Emergency funds. Most consulates only take cash. So have extra or make sure you are set up for internet banking so someone from home can easily email transfer you money.
8. Put on your best SMILE. Nothing’s worse than dealing with stressed out Canadians all day. So, be polite, patient and try to make the best of it I promise you everything will go a lot smoother if you follow this rule! I actually had some pretty good memories from hangin’ out at the consulates and made some friends along the way.
Losing your passport SUCKS big time. It can be stressful and cost a lot of money. However, always remember that many worse things can happen and you shouldn’t let it completely ruin your trip.
Rule number ten: Be happy to be alive. So many things can go wrong while you’re traveling and losing your passport is defiantly not the worst of circumstances….not the best…but not the worst.
I finally got my temporary passport…It’s white and pretty. I proceeded to go back to my hostel, lock it up and then drank copious amounts of alcohol…it was well deserved.
Ahhhh relief at last…and then………………………………………………………………………………..just kidding!
Posted by Administrator on Jun 18, 2009 in
Kenya What happens when you loose your passport in Kenya…
First of all, I have no idea how the passport went missing. I had it when I boarded a bus, went to sleep, and the next day I realized it was gone. Lost, stolen, I’ll never know, but the lessons I learned from the experience are priceless….even though the whole ordeal cost me over $1500.00!
Lesson number one: always carry your passport on your person; never leave it in your bag, it’s worth a lot of money, time, and sanity.
We had planned on spending our last night in Nairobi having a nice dinner and taking a few drinks, but instead, we would get to know the inside of Nairobi’s Central Police Station intimately. When we realized it was missing, we had two options (keeping in mind we were less than 12 hours away from our departure time). We could either backtrack by going through the bus company etcetera, or, we could begin the process of reporting it lost in order to replace it. We opted for the latter. Richard, Andrew and I headed over to the Central Police Station; it was dark and slightly scary. I phoned my dad to tell him what was going on. Being a veteran traveler himself, and well versed in missing passports (he had his pick-pocketed in Vietnam) he stayed calm and recited a list of procedures he would take care of at his end and told me to phone him back after I had filed a police report.
Lesson number two: Be good to your parents. They will always be there for you, even when you make the stupidest mistakes thousands of miles away from home. Love you daddy!
The police station was a very interesting place….Insert imagination here. Kenya’s police force has a very notorious reputation and I began to feel as if losing my passport would afford me an opportunity of a life time-kind of ironic huh??? When it came time to filing the report I told the officer it had been lost. I refused to assume that it was stolen just because I was in Kenya-I lose stuff ALL the time. However, he had a hard time believing this and asked me “Who stole it?” more than a few times. He also made an interesting comment after asking me where I was from. This is how the conversation went. “You’re from Canada huh? Hmm…you guys don’t have thieves there do you?” I replied, “Of course we do!” He then said, “No, no, no you didn’t understand what I said. You guys don’t have people that steal in Canada.” I replied, “Of course we do! There are people who steal everywhere, even Canada.” He seemed perplexed and we moved from the subject, however I think that our short conversation proved that misconceptions and preconceptions are not only prevalent in regards to developing countries like Kenya but also about western countries and the utopia like image that it obviously portrays. While leaving the police station I was faced with a sight I had not been either expecting or prepared for. Huddled on the ground outside the station guarded by a rather large man holding a machine gun was a sizeable group of mostly women and children. I asked Richard where they came from and what they were doing. They were refugees and/or illegal immigrants apparently caught by the authorities. I had no idea what would become of them or what circumstances had brought them there but their presence made me reflect on my own Canadian citizenship that we all take for granted all too often. I couldn’t imagine what life must be like for them and all of a sudden my missing passport seemed like more of a hiccup than the giant issue I was making it out to be.
Lesson number three: Never forget to put things in perspective, especially when traveling. Many people in this world are not even allowed to leave their own country, we are privileged by the sheer fact we can get on a plane and visit other destinations. Being Canadian affords a person many opportunities and rights so even when your circumstances seem hopeless, they are not, just take life one step at a time and be thankful you live in this amazing country we all call home. And whatever you do, DON’T’ PANIC-things WILL get sorted out…eventually!
After leaving the police station I called my dad to update him on what was happening. He gave me the address, phone number, and hours of the Canadian consulate in Nairobi and told me that he was on his way to his local MP to try and get some kind of letter from the Canadian government that would help me deal with the situation. He also scanned and emailed me a copy of my passport I had left with him prior to my departure. Even though I too had a copy, I had been so frazzled at first that I couldn’t find it. He also phoned the airline and told them what was going on and got me an open ticket by where I would be able to change my flight depending on when I would get my passport.
Lesson number four: Leave copies of ALL your documents at home with someone you trust. Get your passport notarized by a lawyer before you leave, and always have the contact information for the consulate in the countries you’re visiting. Now, even if you’ve done all that when you discover you’re passport is missing your brain goes into overdrive and it’s hard to find anything from that point on. So it’s always a good idea to have someone at home with the same info. And if you do end up having to call them, it’s good to send them a fruit basket or copious amounts of alcohol afterwards.
Well, there was nothing else we could do that night so we went back to the hotel, Andrew packed his things…and I pathetically called my mummy. I was originally supposed to be on this trip by myself and I felt as if there was some kind of force that really wanted me to experience Nairobi on my own. 5am came early and Andrew left for his flight. As soon as he closed the door I contemplated my aloneness. I had never traveled by myself before and I knew I was about to get a taste of it in a very intense way. In the morning I packed my things hoping for the best and took a cab to the consulate. I was there early, and even the sight of the Canadian flag made me smile inside and out. I spent all day there, and I mean that. I was there until they closed. I was given an emergency travel document and it was issued the same day because I had flights booked. The document should’ve only taken me home, however, I had my trip to turkey all booked and paid for and the nice lady at the consulate told me that I would be able to travel to Turkey with the document and then get a temporary passport once I was there to get me home. “Cool! No biggie, I got this!” …I thought… I even took a matatu home, a public mode of transportation that is basically a minivan with blaring music filled to the brink with locals that costs significantly less than cabs. We had been scared of these thus far but after my crazy day I was feeling quite independent and able to deal with Nairobi’s street culture on my own. It was a good feeling. I was ALMOST glad I lost my passport because I had such a great feeling of accomplishment and experience. I went back to a hotel, booked a room, repacked my bag, ate some dinner, arranged a cab for the morning, called my family, and got some sleep before my early morning flight. Things were going to be just fine! And then………
Posted by Administrator on Jun 9, 2009 in
Kenya,
Uncategorized Kenya Research-Final Days – “Karibu Kibera”
Arriving back in Nairobi was shocking once again, however necessary as we desperately wanted to visit Kibera once more, as half of the project would be happening within the urban slum. Life in Kenya had become so normal by this point that walking through the alleys of Kibera seemed natural. Richard took us to his house, which consisted of just one room where eating, chilling and sleeping all take place. His wife Evelyn was there to greet us and made us an awesome lunch. We also met his daughter Sonya who is almost two. I then realized how hard it must be for Richard to leave his family for such extended periods of time. After leaving Richards house we went on a tour of his village – yup, that’s right, Kibera isn’t just a slum, it’s a community with different neighbourhoods, community organizations, cafe’s bars and everything else we have in our own neighbourhoods at home. There were children playing games on the streets, mom’s walking with their babies, boys being boys and people greeting us as we manoeuvred our way through the narrow streets. Children were always particularly excited by our presence, all repeating in the same tonation “Hello, how are you?” We would say, “I’m good, how are you?” They would respond, “I’m fine.” It wasn’t so much that the all said the exact same thing but that they all said it in the exact same tone and then giggled when they got a response. It made us smile every time without fail. At one point we walked past a school, there must have been fifty kids on their tippy-toes trying to look over the gate all exclaiming the token greeting-it was a chorus of children’s voices all shouting at us with excitement. I wanted to get out my video camera but decided to just relish in the moment-one of the best decisions I made the whole trip! These are the memories I take away from Kibera – which is a hudge departure from EVERYTHING you read in the media. Kibera is full of wonderful and amazing people. There are youth all over the place wearing t-shirts representing change, hope and peace. There are even local volunteers shovelling waste off the streets. Kibera may technically be one of the largest slums in the world -yet its personality and spirit surpass any western suburb I’ve been to! Richard soon received a phone call at which point he advised me that Solo 7 was waiting at the office for us! WHAT! Ok, let me make an analogy. Getting to meet Solo7 was like a twelve year old girl getting to meet Miley Cyrus!!! Solo 7 is a man with a mission, and that is peace in Kenya. After the election last year a mass violent reaction by the Luhya tribe took place. Solo 7 decided to take action but instead of violence he used art. Solo risked his life and tagged buildings that were not yet burned or destroyed and wrote messages like “Peace Wanted Alive” and “Keep Peace Fellow Kenyans.” Solo 7 is truly an inspiration to us all and getting to talk to him was a honour. He described what he saw and why he did what he did and continues to do. He started a group called “Art for Peace” where children can use painting as therapy to deal with what they saw during the post election violence (there is a link on this web page-check it out!) After meeting Solo, Andrew and I followed Richard’s youth group to where they would be performing a skit similar to what ASB will be doing on project. We walked a long way and began the process of uniting the two groups-Canadians and Kiberans. We have more in common than you would expect. We got to the location, which was basically just a street. Then, a few of the members started to “crowd pull”. They basically started a fake fight and soon there were at least one hundred spectators, at which point they began their skit on the importance of being tested for HIV. It was entertaining and people looked as if they were actually considering the message. We eventually got rained out, and when it rains in Kibera …..you hide! The streets become un-manoeuvrable and there is all kinds of waste flowing in the water. By the time we finally got out, we were covered in filth and dripping wet, but there was one interesting side effect. Kenyans HATE rain, so for the first time Andrew and I melted into the background and didn’t get any attention. As we manoeuvred through the alleys we almost felt like locals as we had joined them on their crusade to escape the flooding street, it was very cool. We got on a bus and headed back to our hotel knowing that it would be our last day in Kenya . We were planning on getting some dinner and then heading out with Richard for one last beer. And then it happend ….. ….. .My passport was gone!!! This single act of fate would alter the course of the trip teaching me among many things patience. Stay tuned……the saga continues…….
Posted by Administrator on Jun 7, 2009 in
Kenya,
Uncategorized Kenya Research-Days 7-10 Back in Bakura
Caribu Bakura
If you have been following my blogs you may have noticed that I have been MIA for a while. So before I go into detail about what to do when you loose your passport in Kenya…..let me tell you about our adventures in a little village called Bakura in Western Kenya. Our first step was just getting there which involved a 9 hour bus ride through rural Kenya. The following is a list of comments, questions, and observations we made along the way.
1. Road kill in Kenya is generally very large, and is usually white with black stripes .
2.Kenyans don’t like open windows on bus rides, regardless of how hot it is.
3. You never know when you’re going to meet a African who’s lived in Winnipeg
4. Why are all the Butchers hotels as well????
5.I will never complain about Toronto roads ever again…ever!!!
6. If you wanna try the best fried chicken in the entire world…Nakura is your town!
The bus dropped us off in Kakamega which is the closest city to Bakura. We wanted to make sure that we arrived with plenty of food to bring as gifts, and to also keep our bellies full during our stay. The following was our shopping list:
• sacks of maise flour
• 2 sacks of sugar
• 2 sacks of chapati flour
• 2 gallons of water
• Cooking oil
• and one very alive chicken
We stayed with Ben and Sarah who are the power couple of Bakura. Ben is an M-PESA agent and runs a whole wack of community organizations. Sarah runs a store and fixes mobile phones. Their home was much bigger than I expected. In fact, they have three different houses on their property which all belong to different family members. In Kenya, it is customary to take care of your elders; something our society is defiantly lacking and it astonished Sarah when I told her about retirement homes. Ben and Sarah, like the rest of rural Kenya rely on their shamba for food and income (cash crops). Besides maize (an absolute staple) they grow greens, bananas, coffee, veggies, avocados, and I’m sure I’m forgetting something. They used to have a dog named Lucy…..then Lucy killed upwards of 30 chickens one day…..funny…..she passed away a short time later. Their water comes from a well that they dug and the family lets other members of the village collect water from it. Upon our arrival we were received with open arms. The word for welcome in Swahili is caribu, a word we heard repeated over and over again during our stay. We immediately felt like family and promptly sat down to a home cooked meal. A young girl appeared and I know their daughter was away at school…so her presence perplexed me. The young girls helped serve dinner. It consisted of ugali greens, and meat in a yummy tomato broth. After dinner we had masala tea…now THAT’S chai!!! Ben and Richard than shared stories with us about family life in Kenya. Ben’s family actually have meetings to discuss important family matters as well as evaluate each members life path. They also shared stories about the post election violence and exposed us to first hand knowledge of what actually went down on the ground. Every time I get to hear stories straight from an actual person and not from an article or journal I have a sense of deeper understanding and appreciation for the unique and privileged information I receive. There are just some angles that will never be reported, for various reasons and if you ever really want the whole story, you must go and talk to the people that were there as witnesses. I felt for the first time that I was getting a true glimpse into what life in Kenya is really like, from an urban and rural perspective. I went to bed that night wondering about the young girl, amazed at the yummy food that came out of such a rustic kitchen, all while contemplating the far away place I was at considering the new and unique information that was shared with me that night. If I hadn’t had been so tiered I would’ve spent more time reflecting but we had to be up very early to work on the shamba…so lights out. Morning came quickly. In Kenya, it is not unusual to get to work before having breakfast. I guess this is where culture shock comes in for me. Work with no caffeine….ok….bring it on!!! Ritter thoroughly impressed Ben with his machete skills and I picked up the path of debris that trailed behind him. Then, we had breakfast. Funny enough, I hadn’t really noticed that I hadn’t had coffee for 2 day! The masala is a great replacement. For breakfast we had a traditional combination of maise and beans. Fried dough, jam, very fresh honey, and popcorn. Different and very yummy! Ben decided he would take the day off work to show us around the village. Little did we know what he had in store for us. Here’s an account of what we did…in less than 5 hours:
Went to the office talked about the project….nauched on sugar cane. Went to the market, bought meat that was hanging from a hook in 100 degree heat…mmm…..bargained for veggies….walked away….got a lower price….bought the veggies. Back to the office….found a bathroom…..tried to pee in a hole…missed….got my foot….washed the pee off my foot….got back on the hole. Went to the school. Met the school master, learned about the school and toured the school. Visited the schools service learning program…go figure! Visited all of Ben’s family….I think he’s related to the whole village! Wait! He is! That’s why you’re not allowed to marry anyone in your own village. Had lunch…spaghetti and meat….note I never specify what type of meat it is…. Met Ben’s cows…there are 5…..I like them…didn’t name them. Washed lunch dishes…harder than you’d think. And then we started dinner.
Wait….before clean up began; the boys took off to the bar, which was fine with me. It’s hard to hold your own hanging out with three boys all day in a very patriarchal village. But, I held my own. However, it was now girl time, and girl time we had. I came to learn about the young girl. Her name is Paris and her father passed away leaving her mother to raise 5 children. So, she helps Sarah with the housework and gets room and board. She had been very quiet but now I needed her to show me how to make chapatti, my favourite Kenyan dish. We rolled dough, laughed and carried on like girls do. I showed her how to use my digital camera and we took pictures of us giggling and me screwing up the chapatti dough. Sarah soon joined us and I had another one of those amazing moments collecting information about a culture that you just can’t get from books. Then….dinner got away. The chicken got loose from its leash and Paris had to trap it and catch it. Then she tied it to Sarah’s chair and it became a port of our little hen party…….AHA! It took us about two hours to make all the chapatti, there are multiple steps, and here they are:
Make the dough separate into manageable chunks roll flat each chunk slice into even pieces do the pull and wrap manoeuvre thingy…hard to explain. Then….the boys came home rearing to slaughter some dinner. The gender roles become so defined in a very short time. But honestly it was so natural and I felt much better in the kitchen with the girls than outside hunting dinner. However, when Ritter grabbed hold of the machete and our chicken friend was taken outside I decided it would be a character building experience if I watched what happens in order for me to have fried chicken. I’d never seen anything die before and it was a surreal moment. I hid behind Richard peeking over his shoulder trying to look but at the same time trying not to look. The head was off, but it was still moving, it was so very strange. Ritter on the other hand looked right at home. We were all in the kitchen cooking, de-feathering the chicken and having a great time. Everyone was learning something; it was truly amazing and spirited. Note, I didn’t name the chicken either. It later becomes known as Yummy. Dinner was again amazing, and my chapatti held up well. Another day in the bush complete and we were dead tiered. A few stories later we were off to bed. Day three in Bakura was filled with excitement as Ben’s mom, sisters, nieces and nephews would be arriving later that night. But before the festivities began Ritter Richard and I had a surprise in store for Sarah and Ben. First, we told them that we were in need of a goat as we would be bringing it back to the city with us. They bought it, kind of. You never know with these city people eh?! This is how the goat purchase went down.
Found the guy with the goat. It was a healthy goat. Bought the goat for 2500 shillings (45$can). Leashed the goat, goat got loose, released the goat, I took the goat, lost the goat, caught the goat, walked the goat all the way home while begging it to stop making the sound a traumatized goat makes. Got the goat home, convinced Ben and Sarah we were taking it home on the bus…again….tied up the goat and listened to it complain about being removed from its familiar surroundings. Named the goat George. Moved the goat to the front, he seemed happier. Commented on the size of the goats………..you get the picture.
I had never bought a goat before, probably never will again, and I’m very happy I got a chance to. I was even happier to see the expression on Ben and Sarah’s faces when we told them that the goat was for them and we had been fooling them the whole time. Now they love the goat and even his name.
p.s. Sorry about the different fonts with the text but I’m using a Turkish keyboard and apparently I asked it to make all my type italic and I have no idea how to change it back.
Posted by Administrator on May 28, 2009 in
Kenya Kenya Research Day-4 and 5- Nairobi-Kenyan School of Monetary Studies
“kujifunza”
It took about ten minutes of staring down my stilettos this morning before I came to reconcile with the fact that I would be in dress clothes for the next two days. This whole trip began with the opportunity to attend a conference called “M-Banking 2009-Balancing Innovation and Regulation.” There is a phenomenon happening in Kenya right now that is being compared to the micro-credit explosion in the late 90’s. Put simply there are systems in place here that allow people to deposit, take out, store, and transfer money. It’s as easy as sending a text message and agents are literally EVERYWHERE! There are many benefits to this system and have been proven successful in Brazil and India. M-Pesa in particular is very popular here. Olga has been researching its impact on rural communities in Kenya as her PhD thesis. Here’s the scenario: A family member needs to send money from the city where they are working to his or her family back in the village. Before there were a few options all of which not only cost a lot but quite often money would go missing. Then, the family member who was receiving the money would not only have to take time away from the farm and family, but would end up spending upwards of 30% of the money being received just on transportation to the location of pick up. Now with M-Pesa not only is money cheaply, securely, and easily transferred but research shows that more money is being sent back into the poorer populations residing in rural areas. So, what’s the problem you may ask? Banks! They are loosing customers and people are starting to realize the benefit of storing money in their M-Pesa account, but M-Pesa is not a bank and has no regulations that are necessary if people are going to treat it like one.
The conference was organized by a very talented group of Master students from the Fletcher School located in Boston U.S.A. Their aim was to gather policy makers, banks, and mobile agents to try and find a compromise to the problem at hand. M-Pesa is GIANT and is not going anywhere, and people are going to continue to take full advantage of its abilities and it is clearly in the banks interests to partner up with Safaricom (the biggest mobile company in Kenya) and M-Pesa. Banks would not only hold onto their current customers, but also reach those un-banked customers that turn to M-Pesa because of its accessibility and ease of use.
Creating unique partnerships between these forces would also reach the people at the bottom of the economic pyramid because there would be a chance to earn interest on money that they hold in their accounts. This is crucial for the rural communities as opening a bank account where you can earn interest is riddled with obstacles like minimum balances and even access to the bank itself. In addition to creating new partnerships within the financial sector the conference also brought up the need for financial education. Rural community members and M-Pesa agents must ensure proper use of the mechanism and maintain consumer protection if the system is going to continue its successful assent within the economic environment here in Kenya.
Conferences are so intimidating (for me anyways) and this one was especially interesting due to my minority status. However, everyone was very welcoming and the educational benefits were priceless! When I first began reading about M-Pesa I wasn’t sure I understood exactly what it was. However, this conference has made me realize just how significant it is-especially for the poorest rural communities. ASB may want to consider engaging in financial education to help facilitate savings and responsible/safe use of the M-Pesa system. It has been an eye opening few days and I am so happy to have been a part of such a unique and noteworthy event.
P.S. I also learned just how tight knit Kenyan political circles are. After parting with Olga at the conference centre as she had a meeting I received a phone call from her. Olga had the honor of meeting the President of Kenya- Mr. Kibaki!!! Poa san! Very cool!
Tomorrow is a very exciting day as we get to go to Kibera to meet the youth group we hope to work with on the project and get a tour of the notorious slum-I’m hoping to change people’s perceptions of the area as the people I’ve met who live there are beautiful, sweet, and honest!
Looking forward to flip-flops!
Dani
Posted by Administrator on May 27, 2009 in
Kenya Kenya Research Day 3
Bakura, Matoli and back to Nairobi
“Asante san Nyanya”
I was especially excited to be up at stupid o’clock this early morning because today we went back to Bakura to sit in on Olga’s follow up M-Pesa research. The market was quiet as its Sunday – the seventh day where most of the non-western world goes to church and spends time with family. It felt like the village was getting used to our presence as the curiosity surrounding us has dissipated. While listening to Olga conduct her interviews I came to see how important M-Pesa is to rural communities in Kenya. M-Pesa is a money transfer system that eases the flow of funds between urban workers and their families in rural villages. It is hunger season right now so instead of a family member having to travel two days loosing two days pay and then using 30% of the money just to purchase transportation the money can be sent using their mobile phones. This technology is being compared to the micro credit phenomenon that began in the late 90’s.
After finishing up in Bakura we drove through the narrow winding dirt roads until we reached Matoli, the village where Olga lived when she conducted her ethnographic research. Richard, our…EVERYTHING…took us on a walk around the area. We traveled the same route the women walk to collect fresh water. It amazed me (kind of) to know that the women would rather take the long walk than have running water in there homes. Why you ask? Isn’t it obvious??? They need to get away from the home, their kids, and their husbands…some things never change. Along our little journey heated by a very hot Kenyan mid day sun we passed a school full of young Kenya boys. As we passed we said jambo-hello in Swaheli. They replied with “We love America!!! We want to see Barack!!!” We chuckled and actually apologized for being Canadian…how Canadian of us…lol!!! The few fellows we were talking to soon turned into a giant crowd of Kenyan youth overcome with excitement with our presence. We shook so many hands and even learned a few new hand shakes (handshakes are very popular in Kenya-ask me to teach you some when I get home.) The energy was palpable, it was amazing! They all seemed like really close friends and immediately made us feel welcomed. They asked us to take a picture to remember them by. You know how they say a picture speaks a thousand words???…well…you gotta’ see this picture. If the internet here would allow me to I would post it but it is very slow.
Back at the home of Jennifer and Robert (the home Olga stayed at) we got a real taste of rural Kenyan life. The land was divided by huts; one for the parents, one for cooking, one for the girls, one for the boys, one for the cows and a mini one for the chickens. It is interesting to note that in Kenya it is inappropriate for a boy to stay in the same hut as his father after he is circumcised. The family owns a large Shamba (meaning farm) where they grow Maize, which is like corn. But the harvest isn’t until August and they will live very sparingly until that time. Robert, the father of the home handed me a piece of fruit. I had no idea what it was but I ate it anyways. It was a little bitter and crunchy but still pretty good. Jennifer (mom) invited us into the kitchen that was a hut with a dirt floor that had a tiny window, a fire going with a pot simmering that smelled AMAZING and a table with some pots and pans on top. A sense of ironic humor came over me as a live chicken came waltzing into the kitchen to check out his buddy who was simmering in the pot. Then Nyanya (grandma) came out. The woman is 98 years young and gave me a handshake and hug that I would expect to come from a 21 year old street thug…AWESOME!!! We sat beside her and picked kow peas (looks like basil tastes like spinach). Ritter played drums with the kids, and the family looked on as the mzungus (white people) soaked up what to them is just normal life. We were then called for lunch. They proudly served very fresh chicken, chapatti (like flat bread) and ugali-which is a staple in the Kenyan diet. It’s like a cross between mashed potatoes and rice and comes from maize. After lunch I asked Jennifer if she could show me how to do the dishes…Kenyan style. I’ve never been so happy to scrub dirty lunch plates. I even think she understood my desire as she walked me through her ways and sat with me and asked about my life back in Canada-which is becoming more and more distant every moment I am here. By the end she had adopted me as her white daughter and she is now forever my Luhya mum. Just as Richard was making our bonding session permanent with a photo it was time to go, but not before I would unexpectedly experience the single most surreal and precious moment of my entire life….seriously!
Grandma sat us in a line and we were told she was going to pray for us as we are on an important journey. Although I could not understand her Swaheli the essence and melody behind her spoken words echoed within my soul. I tried with all my might to keep my eyes closed but the overwhelming emotion of the moment made my eyes well up with tears as I felt privileged to be blessed with her beautiful gesture and infinite wisdom. I will never forget it and would have traveled this entire way just for that single momentwhich is now a precious memory. After only one afternoon saying good bye was hard to do, but I know I’ll be back.
On the way out of the village we made a stop at the local church where we were introduced to the community. In Kenya no matter where we go it’s another experience like no other that so often makes us feel like we are living in a dream. Simply Amazing!
Sadly, it’s time to go back to Nairobi. We arrived back at Kakamega’s tiny airport consisting of one way in, one way out, a metal detector, a luggage cart, two planes and a watch tower. Our plane took of at 6:10pm and as we flew over Lake Victoria we watched the sunset over the African horizon that turned the sky a magnificent colour. We sat in silence and contemplated all that we had just done, saw, felt, tasted and lived.
Arriving back in the city was shocking as it smelled and felt so different. Our favorite taxi driver Simon brought us to our new home for the next while. It is a hotel in downtown Nairobi. After receiving a friendly lecture from Olga about being very careful about leaving the hotel after dark we quickly went across the street to the 24 hour shopping center to explore a Kenyan grocery store-what fun! We decided on sandwiches, yogurt, coconut cookies, a few apples and a new kind of Cadbury’s chocolate. Going grocery shopping is one of my favorite things to do when traveling as foreign grocery store are always full of new items, flavors, combinations and sometimes throw back to an old favorite you havien’t seen in years…or decades in my case. We made it back to our hotel room alive and immediately called our mother hen to notify her of our aliveness. A couple cold showers later (not by choice) we had clean bodies and full bellies then settled into our first night in downtown Nairobi. The buzz of the florescent lights, the constant flutter of male voices outside and the flickering neon hotel sign right outside our window all added to the experience. Conference tomorrow, I have to wear stupid shoes? and by that I mean stilettos. So, right now I think I will spend sometime enjoying this moment and prepare for some serious networking tomorrow- I will let you know how that goes…..
Alive in Nairobi
Dani
Posted by Administrator on May 26, 2009 in
Kenya Kenya Research-Day 2
Bakura and Kakamega- “Amkua mama”
It feels as if we have been travelling for days, wait, we have! Today the plane ride landed us in Kisimu just an hour west of Nairobi. Richard, Olga’s research assistant and Kibera resident picked us up at the airport and drove us to Bukura, a small rural village. If you think Toronto has bad pot holes in the spring, you should try driving on Kenyan roads.
Today I learnt a new word: mzungu, meaning white person. This word has come to be very familiar as it was shouted as we drove to the village where tourists rarely (if ever) go. I find it entertaining and fun though as no one in Canada is ever THIS excited to see me. Children line the road ways and women look on curiously as I wonder just how they carry such large and oddly shaped packages on their heads. When we arrived in Bukura and the market was flooded with stalls filled with produce, clothes and house wares as it is market day in the village. The smells are AMAZING and unique, the people wonderfully different and curious about our presence.
The purpose of the visit was to interview successful women entrepreneurs who are willing to share with us their experiences. They shared with us their reasons for success, methods of savings, and barriers to becoming successfull business women in Bukura. They told us about a method of savings that is very popular in Kenya called a marry-go-round (ROSCA), which is an informal group cooperative that allows any group to save money without the downfalls of institutional banking. It is not easy for the women to open a bank account for a variety of reasons including accessibility and high banking fees which defeats the whole purpose of saving. Most importantly though they revealed a fire within each of them that made us realize how capable and driven these women actually are.
We also spoke with a small group of young girls to discover their current life roles, future plans and goals. This opened my eyes to something very simple: no matter where you go in the world some things never change and girls still just want to be girls and have makeup and beautiful hair and clothes. They did however reveal a desire to open something, anything and they all seemed to have the knowledge that they would have to work together to accomplish what they see their elders doing. There seems to be a underlying commrodary among the women of Bukura, again, some things transcend culture resting on a more fundamental human instinct, making relating to these women all the more easier and fulfilling.
Leaving the village left me with a sense of accomplishment laced with an uneasiness of leaving them without just chatting-as women so often do.
Our next stop took us to an NGO called SAPHIA which I cannot report on at this time as my opinion has not been solidified yet. However I will say this-sometimes a gut feeling is worth listening to.
Back at our hotel we had a traditional Swahili dinner of goat, kale, and chapati-a type of flat bread. It is now very late and I am reflecting on this adventure of discovery and awe. I love Kenya and can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings! The sounds, the smells, the people-there’s nothing more exhilarating than submersing yourself in a culture you’re constantly trying to understand.
Dani-
Posted by Administrator on May 25, 2009 in
Kenya ASB-Kenya Research-Day 1
Hakuna Matata
Arriving in Kenya is a surreal experience. Your mind is full off preconceptions and nerves but mostly bewilderment. Between news, friends, family, travel warnings and pre departure sessions at the Office of International Affairs you prepare yourself for the worst. However, I am here (alive) to tell you, this is just not the case. So far, Nairobi has been a beautiful city with lovely people, keeping in mind we are constantly being watched because we represent wealth. We arrived very early to an abnormally chilly day in Nairobi. Olga, our in country support took on a drive through Kibera, one of the largest slums in Africa. At first I was prepared for the urge to roll up my window and lock the car door however, I found myself desiring to get out of the car and meet the people lining the streets who were selling their chickens, fixing their cars and just hanging out. Youth groups were scattered around listening to elders talk and people were smiling….everywhere! The post election violence that had once destroyed the area is still evident, yet everything was rebuilt very quickly. The most amazing part of the drive was seeing Solo 7’s graffiti peace art. During the post election violence Solo 7 risked his life to create graffiti art that was begging Kenyan’s for peace. Solo 7 made headlines across the world showing how sometimes the simplest ideas can get the most attention.(Check out link in references) The vibrant colours of Solo’s work juxtaposed to extreme poverty is insightful, inspiring, and uplifting. I guess the lesson I took today was that you can find whatever it is you’re looking for, good or bad. Kenya is not by any means stable or completely safe, but if you remain aware of your surroundings it can be a beautiful place to visit and study in. Off to Kakamega tomorrow, will write again soon.
Dani
