Hiking this week

I was walking through Nakuru town today post-hiking in a tank top, running shorts and sneakers when I heard a Kenyan call out, “Hey Marian Jones!” I realized my attire was not exactly typical, but I needed to run a few errands before leaving for the weekend in Nairobi, so I carried on. About one minute later, I heard another call, “Are you running in the marathon?” I got what I needed and hopped in a matatu home. My legs and feet were aching from our second and more challenging hike of the week.

On Sunday, Cameron, Trevor, Nick, Cliff, Ibu and I all skipped church to go hiking at the Menengai Crater, one of the largest craters in Africa, which is about 25 minutes outside Nakuru. We all met at Top Market and began looking for a matatu. We were 3 muzungu so it was about 10 seconds before we were surrounded by matatu conductors trying to take us to any destination that we could imagine. It turned out that there wasn’t one going directly to Menengai, and the one conductor tried to arrange a matatu to take us for 200ksh each. Balking at the price, we decided that the crater couldn’t be that far away, so we would just walk. We started off, when one of the other conductors ran up and offered to take us in his matatu for 50ksh each. We accepted the offer and set off for the crater. It turned out that it was quite far out of town, so we all were very glad for the ride.

When we arrived, we climbed up the back of the crater. It started out pleasantly, as we passed though some houses to the trail. We came out of a wooded area to the edge of the crater, which was unimaginably enormous and beautiful. We walked along the side looking for the trail when we came upon a big water tank where a family was filling jugs and loading their donkeys to carry the water home. Nick and Cliff asked how to get up the crater, and we were directed to a small footpath that was leading up the mountain. We started up the footpath, and were soon in a swarm of mosquitoes. We ran trying to get out of the swarm, but it was never ending. We walked fast, in the hot sun up the mountain. I waved my arms constantly in front of my face, like mosquito windshield wipers. We got to the top much faster than we anticipated. There were a few curio shops and a large directional sign, indicating the direction and distance to many famous (and some not so famous) destinations around the world. The view was stunning (see Facebook album for photos). We sat for a bit and then ran back down, dodging mosquitoes again. There were mountain goats on the cliff face grazing, and we came across some as we turned back onto the path back to the road. We had a lot of fun, and all went home to Amos’ house for a big pasta lunch afterwards.

On Wednesday, Cameron, Emily (Cam’s cousin who joined us on Tuesday from Canada) and I joined Steve (Executive Director of the Morokoshi Nursery School) to hike up into the mountains near Morokoshi to investigate the impact of deforestation in the areas. Many trees have been cleared and the mountain land is being used for farming. However, the deforestation is leading to significant erosion, which is stopping rivers, and streams that feed into Lake Nakuru. In the past few years, especially during the drought of last year, the drying of Lake Nakuru has had a significant impact on the famous flamingo population. A local tree farmer escorted Cam, Steve and me into the mountains to look for sites for a potential tree-planting program that would operate through SpanAfrica and would also serve as an income generation program for some of our Grassroots Partners.

I think it might be opportune at this point to announce the very exciting news that I have joined the SpanAfrica volunteer staff team as the Operations Support Coordinator. In my new role, I support our Grassroots Partners with organizational management, structuring, operations and strategic planning. I also support any volunteers who come through the SpanAfrica volunteer program who have skills or interests in organizational development.

For those who aren’t as familiar with SpanAfrica, SpanAfrica works with Grassroots Partners, or small NGOs and CBOs around Africa to provide non-financial support such as expertise and volunteers.

Additionally, I have just confirmed that I will be travelling to Zambia in October and November to work with the SpanAfrica partners located there in the Ndola region of the copper belt. This will be a great opportunity for me to become even more familiar with the Grassroots Partners there, as well as gain experience with the microfinance programs operating in Zambia.

But I digress….

We started the steep climb into the mountains just before 11am and from the start we had a stunning view of Lake Nakuru. This time there were no mosquitoes, but the climb was much steeper and longer. It was beautiful walking up the long path to the forest, and the forest path was rocky but shaded and the air was fresh. As we ascended the path, we passed many people coming and going from the mountains. We passed two women who must have been in their 80s carrying huge bundles of wood on their backs, strapped to their heads. This feat became more impressive as we hiked further, realizing the difficulty of the hike. Our guide took us to see his seedlings in this nursery, and then we proceeded up into the mountains. We reached the first peak and saw many young trees that had been planted by an organization as a part of an initial reforestation effort. Reforestation efforts are taking place all across Kenya currently, especially in the Mau mountain range. There is a growing understanding of the impact of deforestation on the lakes. In Nakuru, the shrinking of Lake Nakuru would have a great impact on the economy (especially tourism), yet many of the impoverished local farmers rely on their mountain shambas for survival. There is an effort to encourage the mountain farmers to plant trees among their crops as a way to protect the young trees once they are planted. There are several policy initiatives being investigated to encourage the farmers to protect the trees.

We found several water sources high in the mountains and followed them to see where they all came together to drain to Lake Nakuru. At one point, the path disappeared and out guide used his large machete to chop our way through the brush. We say where seedlings had been accidentally trampled by donkeys. We climbed higher and were a spectacle to the farmers working in their fields. Steve had never even been up to this area, and surmised that we were the first whites to come up to these mountains. We passed two women tending to maize, who had a small baby sleeping in the field under a small tent. We started back down along the stream that we were following, and started singing Disney songs. Along the stream were enormous cactus trees, with completely wooden trunks and large cacti leaves. (Facebook album hopefully coming soon). We had many good ideas about the tree planting program, which will likely be available though SpanAfrica as a way for people to easily offset their carbon footprint.

Gloria is now very good at saying my name, and we have taken to talking in small conversations, although she generally thinks it’s very funny when I speak Kiswahili. Our conversations typically start as follows:

Gloria: “Alex?”

Alex: “Gloria?”

Gloria: “eh?”

Alex: “Eh?”

Gloria: Something I don’t understand in Kiswahili

Alex: Say anything I know how to say in Kiswahili in response

Gloria: makes a funny face.

I just got back from Safari in Masai Mara last night. I have a ton of writing to do on that, and hope to post something soon. I am also knee-deep in MBA Application essays and SpanAfrica reports, but I will do something soon. It was an incredible experience, and I have over 600 photos to sort through. I don't even know where to begin!

Work Updates

Wednesday, June 30, 2010

On a VERY exciting note, Boabab Branch Educational Programmes has a new home!! After many long conversations about how to grow the Baobab program strategically, Amos was able to identify a house just outside the Nakuru CBD (Commercial Business District) that was a good fit for our ideas of an expanded Baobab. We created a project budget requesting initial capital for the expansion, wrote a proposal and submitted it to Transparency in Action, a Ft. Collins, CO based non-profit that has a relationship with Baobab. The immediately agreed to fund the first year of rent, and hold a fundraiser to assist with other initial costs that will become sustainable as Baobab is able to expand its’ programming in the new space and with some additional new resources. A down payment has now been made on the space, and we are making lots of preparations for the upcoming expansion.

We expect a Grand Opening will take place in early August, once we are back from our East Africa exploration trip. I am not going to get into the details of each organization here, but full explanations of each are available on the SpanAfrica website at www.spanafrica.org.

On the trip, we are finalizing our travel plans, and everything is working out very well. We will leave on July 10 with Mama Vicky and Paul to visit their rural home outside Kisumu, near Lake Victoria. From there we will take a bus to Kampala, Uganda, where we will be staying in a homestay hosted by TDMI, a SpanAfrica Grassroots Partner. We will travel with TDMI to many of their program sites in Uganda. We will also visit the Northern region with TDMI and to visit a new potential partner in Gulu. This is an area where the Lord’s Resistance Army is very active, which is notorious for its use of child soldiers. We will also travel to Kasese to visit FEFO another Grassroots Partner.

All along the way, we will also be reintroducing SpanAfrica and the benefits of our partnership and SpanAfrica’s goals in Africa and with our partners. The most exciting part for me, in my role as Operations Support Coordinator, is that we will be delivering and introducing our partner organizations to the Grassroots Manual and Workbook. This is a set of documents that Cam and I have been working on for a few weeks that will help organizations thing through and document all of the processes and elements necessary to help them clearly identify and succeed in achieving their goals.

From Kasese, we hope to travel directly to Kigale, Rwanda. We are still finalizing plans for Rwanda. We will spend a few days there, and then will return to Kigale to spend another day with TDMI. We will then go back East to Iganga, where we will meet with FORDAR. We will travel back into Kenya through Kisumu, where we will depart for Tanzania. We will travel to Arusha, and hopefully to Ngorororo to visit Daphne Murphy, Daphne Rowe and Pinky Rowe, who will be volunteering at the Rift Valley Children’s Village. From there, we go to Dar es Salaam to meet with Wazesha, another Grassroots Partner. We will then drag our travel weary selves to Zanzibar for a few days of recuperation on the white-sand beaches!

We will then return to Nakuru, where the Baobab branch Grand Opening will be just about ready. All in all, it will be a busy and intense and highly productive trip. For me, it will continue in October when I head to Zambia!

Top Market

Wednesday, June 16, 2010

I have been in hardcore work mode, so I haven't had a ton to write about for the past few days. This morning I had a meeting with Steve, the Director of the Morokoshi School as well as Chair for Top Market, the main market in Nakuru. Steve runs the general operations for Top Market, as well as several fruit stand and a very successful juice stand in the market. He has asked me to assist him with some of the business planning. This morning, we walked through his business operations, and looked for ways to make his processes run more efficiently, and identified ways for him to expand his business.

One thing Steve is fighting for is support from city council to make improvements to the market itself. It is a major financial contributor to Nakuru, and is in may ways falling apart and the conditions contribute to a general sense of uncleanliness. In the 1980s, Nakuru was hailed as the cleanest city in East Africa, and Top Market was the star. It was a clean, modern facility. It is an outdoor market with stalls, and it is "paved". However, now the pavement is full of potholes and none of the drainage works. The gutters on the eaves are rusty or missing. The restrooms are in such a state that Steve wouldn't even tell me where they were, although I imagine they are near the place where stall owners collect their water, because when we went to see that, the smell of urine nearly knocked me over. Steve is also hoping to get some assistance for refrigeration, especially for those selling fish and meat products. As it is, fish are laid on the counter next to headless, naked chicken.

We are also working on starting a tree-planting program on one of the mountains outside Nakuru. This is crucial to the protection of important rivers that feed into Lake Nakuru, and re-forestation has been a hot topic in Kenya lately, so it is a very timely project.

As a part of my work advising his business and the market itself, Steve took me over to see the wholesale produce market, which is amazing! It is bustling and colorful and crowded. It was a little overwhelming, with huge mounds of fresh vegetables, fruits and grains everywhere. It was big, mostly out in open air, but there are large covered garage/hanger type structures on either side. Trucks come in very early in the morning to deliver fruits from all over Kenya as well as other places in Africa, such as oranges from Tanzania and mangoes from Mombassa. The whole way through I was handed pieces of fruit to eat, and Steve told me "Alexandria, you will feast on fruit today!" I did. And I will tomorrow too, because I was given a ton of fruit to take home with me as well.

I will go back soon and take pictures.

Note 1: It’s now Thursday and I just ate one of the mangoes that I got yesterday. It was definitely the best mango I have ever eaten. I was literally sucking the pit trying to get every last bite!

Note 2: For those of you who liked the Akmeni Fukani Choir video (the Tim & Eric one), see if you can find a video for something like “Gachathi Wa Thuo” on youtube. I think that is the name of the producer, but the video I saw was hilarious. There was no volume, so I don’t know what the song was like, but there were men and women dressed up in cowgirl and cowboy outfits doing funny dances through the whole thing. I have less hope that this one will have made it to youtube, but it’s worth a shot if you are bored or loved the other video as much as I did.

Uhuru Park Attacks

I post this only because I want to explain what is happening here to the best of my ability, acknowledging that I have only read some random newspaper articles. I am totally safe.

As many of you have mentioned, there were three grenade explosions in Uhuru Park in Nairobi over the weekend. This is part of an escalating situation here in Kenya, which is not immanently dangerous, but is worth paying attention to. Kenyans are very open to discussing politics, and everyone I know here loves talking about the upcoming August 4th referendum on the proposed constitution. It is fairly popular (not as popular as the World Cup), and even Joe Biden spoke about it when he was in Kenya last week. However, there are two groups campaigning around the August 4th Referendum, the "Yes Camp" and the "No Camp". This is pretty self-explanatory. The Yes Camp wants voters to vote "Yes" to approve the new constitution, and the No Camp doesn't. The no camp tends to be comprised of religious organizations, and is a considerable minority. The government has taken a lot of criticism for using government funds to embark on a "civic education" program, that is essentially a big Yes Camp campaign. There is no such funding for the No Camp, as it is understood that the government shouldn't provide fund for something that is contradictory to government policy (the proposed constitution is considered government policy because it was written by the government).

The grenade explosions took place in a major park in Nairobi, where a group of religious leaders were leading a march, which apparently also was being used to campaign against the proposed constitution. During the protest, several grenades were fired into the crowd, killing 6 people and injuring 104 people.

There is speculation that the government perpetrated the attack, and the government is under considerable pressure to turn up suspects to clear its own name, which it has yet to do. There is concern that this will spark a repeat of the 2008 election violence, when major tribal warfare broke out in Kenya. This is highly unlikely. Kenyans have learned a lot in the time since the election violence. There are still many IDPs living in camps, unable or frightened to return home. I have written about one family that is living on Steve’s farmland near Morokoshi.

The divisions between the Yes Camp and No Camp regarding the proposed constitution are not along strict tribal affiliations, and also most people don't feel incredibly passionate about the proposed constitution. There seems to be a sense that it is largely symbolic, and isn't marred by the tensions left between the ethnic groups that had a great impact on the 2008 general election.

Additionally, 3 Members of Parliament were recently arrested for hate speech and incitiment, which violates the National Cohesion and Integration Act of 2008. This is meant to deter a repeat of the post-election violence. It is unclear to me exactly what the MPs did or said, and it is worth noting that they are members of the No Camp, which is opposing the Kenyan government. There is speculation that the government is trying to keep them quiet. All the same, the memories of the 2008 violence are top of mind, and people are very upset about the explosions. However, I feel completely safe. I am always aware of my surroundings, and have a great group of friends, family and colleagues who are always looking out for me.

The cartoon in the Opinion Section of The Daily Nation Newspaper had a depiction of Bin Laden sitting in front of the TV reading The Daily Nation. The cover of the Daily Nation had the headline “Uhuru Park Attacks” and Bin Laden was saying “This time it wasn’t me! I was busy watching the World Cup!”

A Weekend in Nairobi

Sunday, June 13, 2010

After my day with Milka on Nina business (see previous post), I headed into town to meet Richard, my first Kenyan friend, who I met in Ghana when we were visiting Daphne in November of 2008. We met at the Hilton, which is a central landmark that is easy to find. We headed to Tamasha, a section of Nairobi with some fun pubs with big open windows and patios, to watch the opening of the World Cup.

We caught up on the past year and a half over a Tusker, the most popular beer in Kenya, which is made here. We sat outside at first, but soon moved inside to get a good spot for the start of the opening ceremony. The opening ceremony was amazing, the dancing and music got the crowd excited as the bar became more and more packed with fans. By the time the first game started, the bar was full and the energy in the room was nearly tangible. There were several spectators who came with vuvuzelas, the long horns that you can hear all throughout the games. En masse, they sound like a pack of angry bees, and in a crowded bar they are deafening and get the crowd very riled up. They are challenging to learn to use, and require strength of lungs and some lip-styling to make the sound come out. It was funny watching many people try to play them. When my turn came around, I put my lips to the horn and blew as I had been instructed, and to my great surprise the horn made a huge, loud and kind of ugly squawk. I hadn’t anticipated to be able to play the vuvuzela on my first try, and involuntarily cheered for myself out loud. I had during this process become so focus on the vuvuzela that I hadn’t realized that there was a break in play, and all my loud squawking and cheering had taken place when the rest of the bar was relatively quiet, making my whole awkward scenario stand out even more than I already stick out, as one of only two white people in the bar. Se la vie, it was all in good fun!

On Saturday morning, Richard and I headed into Nairobi center to visit the Masai market, a large outdoor craft market that is held in a parking lot near City Hall. Many Masai tribes people come to sell their handiwork, as well as many other artisans. We strolled around looking at many things, and I did some souvenir gift shopping and Richard helped me barter to get fair prices. It was amazing to see all the colorful clothing and jewelry, elaborate carvings and other pieces that were available, and of course all the various selling methods, which are impossible to avert as a muzungu.

After the market, Richard and I parted ways as I headed to Muthaiga to visit Radhika’s aunt and uncle, Joan and Davinder in their home. Muthaiga is a beautiful part of Nairobi, and Joan and Davinder’s house is breathtaking. The house is warm and breezy, the sun was shining, and the gardens are alluring. As I arrived, the Korea vs. Greece World Cup game was just starting. Joan is Korean, raised in Brooklyn, and was eager for a win from the country of her heritage. As Joan prepared some snacks and Davinder went for a swim, their son and I walked around the gardens and down to the stream at the bottom of the hill behind the house. The path is scenic, and there are big exotic plants and colourful flowers blooming and enveloping me in their fragrances. I was in heaven.

We sat in the airy family room and ate arrowroot chips with homemade hummus and cheered Korea onto a win in the World Cup! Riding high on the victory, we moved out onto the veranda under an ivy awning overlooking the yard. We had a long lazy lunch beginning with Joan’s homemade onion soup, then sandwiches, salad and finished with Kenyan coffee and seeded bread with fresh honey. Conversation covered everything from our individual upbringings to many questions about Ryan and Radhika and the family back in the states. By the time we finished our lunch the sun had set and I had found a new Korean mom in Kenya! Joan and Davinder dropped me off at the Hilton to meet Vicky, and we plan to meet again on July 1^st, when I will spend the night with them before I leave for safari in Masai Mara on July 2nd.

Vicky and I met at the Hilton, and headed back to her apartment in Lang’ata, and up and coming section of Nairobi where many young professionals live. We changed our clothes and headed out to Rafikiz, a club about 5 minutes away from the apartments (Rafiki means friend in Kiswahili). We sat out on the patio and watched a tense World Cup game between the USA and England. Many Kenyans are huge fans of the British football teams, so the club was full of rowdy fans. At one point, I went into the club to use the bathroom, and ran straight into a huge man, easily over 6 foot 5 inches, wearing a plaid cloth tied around his waist. Before I even knew what was happening, I was in the air, wrapped in his big sweaty arms while he jumped up and down cheering and yelling in Kiswahili. My arms were pinned to my sides, so I wasn’t really able to behave in any way engaged in this celebratory dance other than by just randomly yelling and trying to match his pitch. I found PJ in Nairobi, kilt and all!

After the game, the club was bumping and we went inside where we met up with a few of Vicky’s friends and started dancing. Those of you who know me well know that dancing is not my strong suit. I am the epitome of the awkward white girl, and next to Vicky, I just looked like a lost little kid bouncing around uneasily to a wide variety of African music. Vicky was appropriately encouraging, expressing concern any time my enthusiasm level dropped. It took all my concentration to try to hear the beat of the music, move to it and think of things to do all at the same time! I was an amateur among professionals.

After a bit we were hungry, so we ran across the street to a small grill and grabbed two sausages and ate them quickly on our way to a second club. The second club was playing mostly American music, so I at least knew what to expect of many of the beats and tempos here. We met another group of Vicky’s friends, and they were happy to offer me all sorts of dancing pointers. We danced and danced and danced until we were so tired we couldn’t dance anymore! At 3 am, Vicky and I left the club to find a cab home. When we got to the taxi line, the first cab driver was wearing a Phillies baseball cap!

On Sunday I woke up absurdly early (thanks, Greg) and realized we had no boiled or bottled water for drinking and I was thirsty! I spent about 45 minutes trying to boil water in an electric kettle, because I wasn’t sure how to use the gas stove (which is a gas can with a mechanism on top that you open and then light it with a match, like a camping stove but much bigger). The electric kettle had an automatic shut off valve, so I could only boil the water for about one minute at a time. I wasn’t sure how long to boil it but was pretty sure one minute wasn’t enough, so each time I got it boiling, I then had to let it cool, set it to boil again, and so on. Finally, I was able to sit down to a big glass of hot water. Mmmmm.

When Vicky got up, we walked over to the supermarket to get breakfast, and checked out a small airfield that is next door. Lots of small private planes use the Wilson Airport, and it was interesting to see them fly in. The clouds were very low, so it seemed like they were coming out of nowhere, dropping through the clouds and onto the runway. We passed Carnivore, a famous restaurant in Nairobi that is known for serving a wide variety of exotic meats in the style of a Brazilian steakhouse. On our way home we passed Kibera, the largest slum in all of Africa. I am not sure what I expected it to be like, but on that morning it was quiet and seemed barren.

I set off for Nakuru around noon, and found my way not only back to Nairobi town, but also to the matatu station! I slept part of the way, but still saw two herds of zebras on the roadside grazing. I always wish I could take a picture, but the matatus drive too fast. It is nice to be back in Nakuru. Nairobi is fun and exciting, but Nakuru is home.

Sidenote: I had my address wrong in the earlier post. My actual mailing address is:

Alexandra Mack

c/o Jeniffer Gamba

Box 1252

Nakuru, Kenya

Feel free to send me things that you wouldn't mind if they get stolen. Especially photos, etc.

Nina's Visit to Nairobi

Friday, June 11, 2010

I woke up at 5 am on Friday to meet Milka at the Mololine matatu station to go to Nairobi. We had an appointment to meet with the Jacaranda Workshop, a workshop that employs mentally handicapped graduates of the nearby Jacaranda Special School. Milka met Tina, the Operations Director of Jacaranda earlier this year at the European Union conference in Nairobi, and Tina had expressed an interest in helping to sell the Nina bags. We arrived with a large supply of both the recycled bags as well as a few leather bags and some jewelry that Milka and the women have started making as well.

Jacaranda has a serene campus in Nairobi, and we took a tour of the facilities, which included four buildings that serve as workshops and a gallery. Jacaranda focuses its efforts on creating jewelry, and the employees do everything from making the beads out of clay, glazing them, firing them in the kiln, designing brass ornaments and assembling full jewelry designs. The beads are beautiful and the designs are simple and interesting. After our tour, we met with Tina in her office in the main design studio. She explained that while Jacaranda sells some of its products directly from it’s gallery, most of the pieces are sold in the states through Ten Thousand Villages, one of the top US based fair trade organizations. (It is actually based in Pennsylvania). We discussed pricing options, and decided to leave ten recycled bags and one leather bag with Tina on consignment to see if she could sell them through her Ten Thousand Villages connection. She seemed confident that the bags would sell well, and we agreed on prices that would give her some flexibility to earn a small income for Jacaranda as well as a fair payment price to Nina.

I was interested to learn about the Ten Thousand Villages connection, as Ten Thousand Villages has been a very helpful resource for me before I came to Kenya when I was investigating possible US sales methods for Nina. Ten Thousand Villages was very helpful, but strict about the fact that they did not want to add any new artisan groups in Kenya. Tina explained that this is because they have a very difficult time getting the artisan groups to deliver their goods on time for their scheduled shipments in Kenya. While it is worth investigating further, perhaps working through Jacaranda now will serve as an introduction for Nina to become a partner in the future.

Milka and I had planned our next stop to the office of Cooperation for Fair Trade in Africa (COFTA). I had the address in my notebook, and we asked Tina if she could direct us. After some significant debate between Tina and a few of her staffers, we were given some directions that has the interesting ability to be bother elaborate and completely vague at the same time. Milka and I packed up the remaining bags into large sacks and set off to catch a matatu. We took two matatus and as Tina’s directions indicated, ended up in Yaya, an upscale shopping district of Nairobi (my interpretation). We started asking around to see if anyone could direct us to the COFTA office. We received lots of answers, none of them were the same. “Go back that way for two kilometers and then find such-and-such road and then go further…” As Milka and I stood with our heavy sacks full of bags, we decided to get a second opinion before walking several kilometers in any direction. We asked a security guard, who didn’t know. We asked a passerby who looked like a businessman, who told us to walk in the opposite direction from the first man, and then ask someone else for directions somewhere along that way. This process repeated and we walked in every direction without finding the office. We called Tina and still couldn’t find it. We called COFTA, and there was no answer. We finally reached a street where Milka realized she could easily catch a matatu to her brother’s home, where she was staying, so we decided we would get better directions and try again another day.

While it might have been a disappointing end to our day, Milka and I agreed that although we hadn’t made it to COFTA, we had a better understanding of what steps we need to take to get Nina connected with a fair trade organization. We are getting on the radar of one of the most recognizable organizations (Ten Thousand Villages) and have a great resource in Tina and Jacaranda Workshop. We can take some time to do more work and set up the fair trade status, so that we are ready for any opportunity.

Your Twinkles are Twinkling

Assorted dates in the past week. Compiled on Monday, June 7, 2010.

Several people have commented to me that my blog posts have become to blog-y. I apologize that my writing has slumped and it might sometimes seem like I am rattling off a laundry list of things I have done lately. It is hard to keep up, and often there are little nuanced occurences that really make everything that I am doing in Kenya amazing. This is my attempt to capture a few of those moments.

You might want to start with a chicken…

I have been making a list in my head of things I want to do in Kenya, and decided that I want to cook a chicken that I have killed myself (thanks, Daphie). The others in the house think this is hilarious, because it is something that is entirely not novel (un-novel?) here. The other day as we were sitting upstairs, Nick comes up and tells me that we are having chicken for dinner, and that now’s my chance. I run (full sprint) downstairs about out the back door to find a chicken. I realize that I am alone and that everyone else is in the kitchen. I come back inside to realize to find Vicky (the only innocent party) seasoning some chicken parts and preparing to cook them. Yes, we were having chicken for dinner. Alas, I was not to pick the chicken.

We all often hang out in the kitchen and talk while Agatha is cooking. We play with Gloria, dance to no music or the music from a cell phone, and generally tell stories and laugh. On this particular occasion, I was sitting on the floor next to Vicky, and Edward and Nick were standing. I reiterated my list for the group, “While I am here, I want to kill a chicken and milk a cow.” Vicky responds, “You want to kill a cow???” Edward says flatly, “You might want to start with a chicken…” We all burst out laughing. Edward has a way with sarcasm that I simply cannot deliver in Kenya. My sarcasm is almost always met with stern responses. I think I am improving, but I can’t be sure.

Walking with Edward

I finally got around to getting a new camera! I will include a link to the facebook album at the end of this post, and will upload new pictures as best I can. On Saturday, I had planned to leave for town with Edward (my Kenyan cousin) at 9:30am to look for a new camera. At 8:30, Edward starts hollering at me that I am late and he is mad. I think I must have read my clock wrong, or something, and start running after him in my pajamas apologizing and trying to get my brain together as fast as possible. When he turns to me I immediately recognize his cunning smile and know I have been tricked.

We go into town with Mama Vicky, who has to work because things are so busy. She accompanies us to the first shop, where the store owners know her, and they all call each other “my darling”. On the way, Mama Vicky has to stop to greet at least 10 different people. Edward and I don’t wait, as it could take all day to walk the few blocks if we do. This is a good explanation of “Kenyan time”, which is always late… nothing ever happens at the time you plan it.

Edward and I go to several different shops, and I am under strict orders not to talk. I don’t say a word, and we end up leaving the Sony store with a great camera, and Edward negotiated a very good deal. We walk back to Mama Vicky’s office, and are sent on an errand to find a duplicate key to the car. We walk over to the mechanic’s district, called shabab. Edward tells me that shabab used to be an affluent white area during colonial times, and used to be called “suburbs”. The Kenyans had trouble pronouncing “suburbs”, and so the name changed to shabab. We go into a few places, which decline to make us the key, so we just keep wandering. We are a bit outside Nakuru proper, and everything is interesting. This is not the side of Nakuru you see on purpose, but it was the real Nakuru in many ways. We talked about the election violence, language, growing up, and everything else. We were passed several times by a massive motorcycle caravan, all carrying some kind of tree or large shrub branch to signify that it was a funeral procession, but it was obvious to any onlooker that it had gotten a bit out of hand. Eventually we saw the police catch up with them, and while it didn’t appear to have any significant impact, we didn’t see them again.

We walked out of shabab and past Mama Ruth’s neighborhood. We went over to the neighborhood where Paul and Mama Vicky used to live before they moved to our house now. We passed an old tailor, sitting outside sewing on a sewing machine, and Edward told me that he was the one who used to make the kids’ school uniforms for Mama Vicky. I airily commented that the only pair of pants I brought to Kenya are much too big, and wondered aloud if he might be able to take them in for me. I felt Edward’s bemused look on my skin before I even saw it. He looked confused rather disgusted and like he might burst out laughing all at the same time. I paused, and then remembered that “pants”in Kenya refers to your underwear, not your trousers. I started laughing first, and Edward joined in immediately. I tried to correct myself, but Edward already understood. We just walked on giggling.

When we arrived at Mama Vicky’s old house, we went to visit an old neighbor, Mama Angela. We sat down, and Edward introduced me as his fiancée. Mama Angela raised an eyebrow, but played along for a bit. At first feigning an appropriate amount of surprise, “Do you mean it? How did you meet? Wow, how exciting!” I moved closer to Edward and he put his arm over my shoulders and we somehow dodged the questions and just kept pushing the envelope, “Yes, we are moving to the United States soon! Didn’t you receive the invitation? The wedding is next week!” Mama Angela is still playing along, but pushing harder with the true qualifications for marrying a Kenyan man, asks Edward, “I see, but can she cook ugali for 10 people?” I don’t appear in any way that I would be able to do so, as cooking ugali is a highly physically demanding process. Finally, Mama Angela bursts out, “Oh stop it! I know exactly who Alex is, Mama Vicky has been telling me about her for weeks!” She proceeds to tell us that I am Grace’s sister from America. Not exactly… but I guess she was onto us the whole time. Edward has a running list of all the reasons I am not a suitable mate for a Kenyan man. My inability to cook ugali at all is number one.

Walking home in the rain

Edward soon has to head home to finish marking term papers for Paul (Edward is also a Statistics and Economics lecturer in Nairobi). I meet up with Cameron, Amos and Ruth at Tusky’s, the supermarket in town. They are picking out plastic chairs, which is a highly involved process. Cameron and I decide that office chairs are far more comfortable, and go sit to wait for them to finish their shopping as if we are restless children accompanying their parents on a shopping trip.

We finish, and Amos, Cam and I load everything into a tuk-tuk and brace ourselves for a bumpy ride back to Amos’ home in Naka. A tuk tuk is sor of like a 3-wheeled morotcycle that is enclosed in a metal frame. If there are shock absorbers, you can’t tell. They aren’t supposed to go on the highway, so we take the dirt road home. We get there and prepare some lunch, and Cam and I introduce Amos to Arrested Development. Live is good.

I decide to walk back to town, and although it is getting dark, I assume it’s fairly safe. I walk briskly, saying hi to everyone I pass along the way. Just as I approach the edge of town, the clouds begin to spit. As I enter town, they open completely and being dumping water. I am wearing a t-shirt and thin wrap skirt, and am instantly soaked. For some reason, all the Kenyans look totally normal, and I stand out even more than usual. I try to blink the water from my eyes, but misjudge a turn and end up in the market – the absolute worst place in Nakuru for a muzungu in a hurry. Despite my obvious discomfort, everyone wants to sell me something. I walk as fast as I can, through the crowd, and finally reach the lot where I can get into my matatu home to Kiamunyi. I have been trying to shelter myself as best I can under the eaves of the market stalls, but now I have to cross the parking lot. I sprint, splashing through filthy puddles. I make it to the matatu and climb aboard. People are staring at me. I am soaking wet, I have no way to dry the water streaming down my face from my hair. The whole scene is so ridiculous that it is comical. I text Sydney to tell her about a man I saw walking 5 goats on leashes like a Rittenhouse dog walker on my way to town. The rain is streaming down my forehead and dripping off my nose, shoulders, arms, and chest so fast I am nervous to touch my phone because the water is so unavoidable.

As soon as the matatu fills, we start off towards home. The matatu steams up with condensation and I can’t see outside, so I accidentally get off about 3 stops too early. I had kind of thrown a fuss about it, so I was too embarrassed to admit my error, and decide just to walk the rest of the way home. The rain has almost stopped, and it wasn’t very far. I start up the hill toward Olive Inn, the corner with a few shops that is near my house. Suddenly, I hear shrieks and see two boys donning full winter parkas running towards me. They are both about 6 years old. They each grasp a hand, without saying a word to me, and hop and yell excitedly along with me as we ascend the hill. I felt like I had fallen into a movie scene: soaking wet white girl is escorted by two giddy little Kenyan boys to town. It was the perfect end to my journey. I couldn’t help but smile the rest of the way home.

You are my daughter!

On Monday I took my still unfinished woven basket to the Nina Initiative meeting. For some reason it had gotten all crooked and misshapen while I was working on it this past week. I took it out and showed the women what I had done, half proud of myself for having done so much, but half nervous that it looked so demented. Milka held it up and says, “You made a nice flower, but it isn’t a basket!!” Everyone in the room starts laughing hysterically and coming up with new ideas of what my creation could be. Cam and I decide that it is a nice bonnet (see facebook album for photos of me wearing my bonnet).

Later, I undo all my weeks work to correct the error in my stitching. I start again, but get mixed up about the direction of my basket’s growth. I sit down on the ground next to Rebecca and ask her to help set me straight. The skirt I am wearing has a little eyelet that sometimes pops open because it ties around my waist (Carley, your brown skirt) and if it gets mis-adjusted, you can see my hip and underwear in the side. This must have happened when I sat down, and Rebecca aggressively rearranges my skirt, pulls my shirt down over it, and whispers to me “you are my daughter!” and then goes on to repair my basket. I have about 10 moms in Kenya, and counting.

“if you’d ever had a grown-up daughter you’d know that by comparison a bucking steer is easy to manage” – W.S. Maugham

Work Update

Monday, June 7, 2010

Work has been moving along quickly, and I am not sure where to begin. Since Cameron arrived (the Director of African Operations for SpanAfrica) we have set up lots of plans to move forward on projects with many of the Grassroots partners (Baobab Branch, Nina Initiative, Morokishi Nursery School, etc.) as well as several large projects for SpanAfrica itself.

We are nearly finished setting the curriculum for the Baobab Branch’s Business Development Course, which began last week. There are several students, including Felix, who also helped on the Bright New Ideas solar lighting project when I first arrived in Kenya. Cameron and I facilitated a class on CV development, but haven’t been available for several of the other classes, but it is going very well.

On Friday evening, Cam and I did a major clean-up of the Baobab Branch office, and were able to create a lot more space in the room. I am still working with Amos on an operating budget, which I will use to create several budget projections to forecast outcomes of various expansion strategies for Baobab Branch. Baobab is already bursting at the seams in the current space, and it is exciting to examine all of the ways that Baobab can grow from here.

On Saturday, Cam came over to my house and we spent the afternoon on the porch next to my room (the porch where people go to find themselves) planning our goals for the next few weeks. We have a lot to do! We are setting projects for incoming volunteers, and establishing goals for our local grassroots partners and scheduling visits for some of the other partners as well as a few potential partners in Kenya.

Cam and I are working on putting together a complete package for all the Grassroots Partners to help them understand the role of SpanAfrica, and all of the services that Span has to offer. We are also creating a manual (that Cam calls our Colouring Book) that will serve as a simple informational guide to organizational management for all our grassroots partners. We hope to have both of these packages done ASAP so that they are ready and printed by the time we start meeting with the grassroots partners in about 3 weeks.

One very exciting development is that Cam and I have planned an extensive trip to visit with many of the East African Grassroots partners, and will depart for about 2 ½ to 3 week tour beginning on July 20. We will travel from Nairobi to Tanzania, where we will visit Daphne Murphy, Daphne Rowe and Pinky Rowe at the Rift Valley Children's Village for about 2 nights. We then will go on to Dar es Salaam and Zanzibar, where we will spend a few days. There is one partner organization that we will meet with in Zanzibar, but then we feel it is absolutely necessary to spend a day or two on the white sand beaches. Work is rough.

From Zanzibar we return to Dar es Salam, and travel across Tanzania to Uganda and Rwanda, where we will meet with additional Grassroots Partners. Finally, we will cross back over into Kenya from the Northwest and back to Nakuru. While we have a lot of preparations to do, such as contacting all of the Grassroots Partners to set up meetings along the way, finalizing all our documents and creating a solid presentation for each, there isn’t a lot we can do as far as travel preparations. Paul (my Kenyan dad) is in Dar es Salam today on business, and is checking out the overland transportation options for us to travel from Dar to Uganda. Otherwise, we will be catching cheap busses and sleeping in the least expensive places we can find!

Today Cam and I went to the weekly meeting for the Nina Initiative. We toured the new greenhouse, constructed recently by a member of the TAWA Group, another women’s group in the area. We attended the Nina Initiative meeting, and then walked up to the local Agriculture Officer’s office to inquire about local grant and support programs. He wasn’t as informative as I hoped, but did provide us with some information on a hunger prevention initiative called Njaw Marufuku Kenya (NMK) that I am going to write a proposal for Nina to apply for funding. The funds support a variety of programs and award project and administrative awards ranging from 80,000ksh to 2.4million ksh. The Agriculture Officer indicated that it is a competitive process, but it can’t hurt to try. In the meantime, there is much work to be done to get Nina prepared to submit such a rigorous application. Nina has experiences a great deal of administrative difficulty over the past year, and after much discussion, it makes sense to really start from scratch in creating new goals and establish a timeline of objectives and strategy for achieving them. This will be a good exercise for the Nina women, and will also help me and I work with Cam in creating a workbook on organizational management for all of the SpanAfrica Grassroots Partners.

We met this afternoon with Steve at Morokoshi Nursery School and discussed the plans for Morokoshi, especially in relation to the upcoming arrival of Emily and Trevor, two new volunteers who will be dedicated primarily to Morokoshi. It was a great meeting, and ended with a great game with a bunch of brightly colored bouncy balls in the yard.

I am also starting to work with some local businesses on strategic planning and business plan development. Amos is connecting me with a Baobab Branch graduate who is currently operating a hair salon in Nakuru. I also spoke at length with Steve from Morokoshi today about his business in the Top Market, and using the various branches to maximize his profit. We are planning to meet later this week or early next to go over his current model and identify any areas for improvement.

All in all, work is insanely busy, but I love all my projects and all the people who I am working with. It’s hard to keep up with everything, and sometimes it’s hard to roll this into my more descriptive blog posts, but there will be a lot more to come in the next few weeks!

Jina lako nani Akinyi.

Thursday, June 3, 2010

There are a lot of new people here, so before I begin, I will introduce them briefly so make it easier:

Cameron – The Director of African Operations for SpanAfrica (thus, technically my boss, which he loves). He is also a co-founder of Baobab Branch and the Morokoski School, 2 organizations I am working with here in Nakuru. Cameron has been living on-and-off in Nakuru for about a year in total, beginning in 2005. He was living with Amos during the post-election violence, and experienced it firsthand.

Steve – Steve is the Director of the Morokoshi Nursery School, a dynamic and successful rural nursery school that has grown with great success in the past 5 years, and has a food program, solar energy program and does many other income generation and sustainability activities. The Nina Initiative was born at the Morokoshi School. Steve is a very generous and kind man, and also manages the Top Market, a major market for food and other goods in Nakuru. He donates a portion of his proceeds to his various projects, especially Morokoshi.

Mary – Mary is a nurse at the PCEA Church Clinic in Nakuru

Catherine – Catherine is a nursing student from Mississippi and is spending 2 months working at the PCEA Church Clinic with Mary. She also lives with Mary. She was the third muzungu (white person) on our trip, after Cameron and me.

The title of this post means “My name is Akinyi” and has nothing to do with the content of the writing. Mama Vicky determined this week that my Luo name is Akinyi, meaning “born in the morning”. As Mama Vicky was also born in the morning, she is also Akinyi, and considers herself my namesake. She absolutely cannoy wait for mom to call again so that she can share the great news! Mama Vicky loves talking to mom, and has already told her that she intends to keep me on as her firstborn, even if she has to give Vicky (her firstborn) to my mom in exchange.

Today I went into the office as usual, but soon Amos received a phone call from Steve, and then I was told to go to Top Market to meet Steve in 20 minutes to accompany him on several visits in the rural area, and that Cameron would be meeting me there as well. Cameron received this information while still at home in Naka, so I stopped at Tusky’s (the supermarket) to pick up a loaf of bread so he wouldn’t go hungry. We met up and found that our party was not quite ready to depart. We went with Steve back to Tusky’s to purchase a blender that he planned to use later in a nutrition demonstration and donate to one of the groups we would visit. We then went to Stagematt, another grocery store, to purchase a bunch of porridge mix for the feeding program at Morokoshi.

We went back to Top Market, and as we waited for everyone else to get ready to go, Cameron and I sat on a bench to have a piece of bread. The rest of the loaf was sitting in Cameron’s lap as two street children who couldn’t have been older than 11 approached, asking for money, and then, eyeing the bread, asked for bread. It is generally a bad idea to give things to street children in Nakuru, as it establishes a system of dependence instead of self-reliance. The street children are one of the most difficult parts about living in Nakuru – they are many, they can be aggressive, and they break your heart. In such a setting, with a whole loaf of bread on our laps, we couldn’t say no. Cameron handed each of the boys a piece of bread with the strict instructions not to tell anyone about it. As they walked off, I asked Cameron about a strange brandy bottle full of thick yellow goo that one of the boys was holding. I thought that maybe it was honey, but Cameron explained that it was glue. The street kids sniff the glue to suppress their hunger and to alleviate the stress of their lives with the high. When the kids get really hungry, they eat marijuana seeds and head to the dump, able to eat anything they can find due to the effects of the marijuana. It is an awful life that too many kids in Africa have to lead.

We were called back to the street, where we met the rest of our group for the day, most of whom are listed above. We went first to Morokoshi, where we took a quick tour after being greeted by all of the students singing songs of welcome. We gave each of them some biscuits and headed off to see the new dairy cows at Steve’s new shamba (farm) nearby (the same one I visited with Milka, where Nina used to farm). The cows were out, and this time the whole family who is living on the small shack on the property. They are an IDP family, still too afraid from the post-election violence to return to their original home. We went into the house, and saw that there is no furniture at all, and that the kids sleep on folded sheets and some sparse straw in a dark room. None of the kids attend school, as there is no money for uniforms or desk fees. The oldest is probably about 10, and the youngest just a toddler.

From there we drove to meet an AIDS support group that was started by a group of women 7 years ago called Fuhara, which means “happy” in Kiswahili. The founder and secretary of the group, Elizabeth, welcomed us warmly into the home of one of the members. In the tradition of Kenyan hospitality, we were served a large lunch of beans, rice and cabbage. It was more than any of us munzungus could eat, but we did our best! The home had a large enough living room for the approximately 25 attendees of the meeting. It was decorated much like other rural Kenyan homes, with lace draped along the walls and odd posters and calendars on the walls. The one very unique point was a twin-sized sheet that hung in one corner where there was no lace. It was blue, with a full-sized print of Michael Jackson from his “Bad” album. It ended up (inadvertently, of course) in the backgroup of many photos, so keep an eye on facbook for those. Cameron has been great to let me at his camera whenever I want to take photos. Although he only arrived on Tuesday, we have become fast friends, and I feel as if I have known him far longer than I have.

Fuhara is a group of 42 people who are HIV positive, or whose lives have been greatly impacted by HIV/AIDS. There are 35 women and 7 men in the group at this time. We went around the room and everyone introduced themselves and told if they were married, single or widowed and how many children they had. Most of those who were single had with either been kicked out of their home or abandoned because of AIDS. One woman had had three children die of aids, and was then kicked out of her house by her husband with their final child, who is negative. The boy was with her, and is the happiest baby I have ever seen. He sat with me, Cameron and Catherine for about half an hour and just climbed all over us and babbled and cooed the whole time. It is sad to think of the circumstances that he cannot possibly understand, but that will impact his life greatly.

An elderly woman, probably in her 80s, was present who had lost 3 of her grown children to AIDS, and was now left to look after the 7 children that they had left behind. Another woman had 6 children of her own, and was also caring for 2 children left behind after the death of a grown child of her own. A middle-aged man had been left with 3 children to care for after his wife ran away. Many married couples are also part of the group. After each person finished, we all applauded. Despite many of the distressing stories, there was much laughter and spirits were very high. The group was very open about circumstances and emotions, which is unusual in Kenya, especially around the topic of HIV/AIDS. It is highly stigmatized, and Fuhara has done a great job of helping people cope with their situation in a safe environment. During this exercise, I learned how to say “Jina langu ni Alexandria” (My name is Alexandria).

Fuhara does many income-generating activities to help the members support one another, pay for transport to the clinic and hospital, etc. It is highly successful, and Cameron and I plan to meet with the Fuhara leadership in early July to discuss their potential as a SpanAfrica partner in some capacity.

After we spent some time talking about all of our circumstances, Steve got out a bunch of fruit and vegetables that he brought from Top Market. He is a trained nutritionist, and spoke at length to the group about the benefits of the many items that he brought with him. He talked about how paw paw helps with digestion, how garlic is good for the blood and immune system, and on and on (mostly in Kikuyu) about other items such as mango, pineapple, bitter gourd, tumeric, avocado and more. As he discussed each item he expertly peeled them and chopped them into a large pot. Once he was finished, he produced the blender, which had been hidden under then table. IT was clear that most of the group had never seen a blender before, and they all applauded more, and when Steve told them it was his intention to donate the blender to Elizabeth, they cheered even louder.

Steve proceeded to blend the fruits and vegetables into juice, explaining that when blended, the body is able to absorb even more of the nutrients. Proper nutrition is essential when a patient is taking ARVs (anti-retrovirals, used to treat HIV/AIDS), and many of them are ignorant of where to get proper nutritious foods. The group listened carefully to Steve, and all were grateful for his counsel. As we wrapped up the presentation, Elizabeth thanked us repeatedly. She explained that had Steve come in and handed them each 1,000KSH, it would not have been as valuable as their experience with us this afternoon. Many of the fruits and vegetables that Steve brought are readily available of the local shambas, but that they were unaware of how to use them. Catherine and Mary plan to return in late June to do a health presentation to the whole group, and Cameron and I will meet with the leadership in early June.

Before we left, Mary led the group in an empassioned prayer in Kikuyu. Even though I couldn’t understand the words, it was clear that she and the other members felt a strong connection to them. Mary’s words were punctuated with “mhmm”s and “yeah”s and “thanks dear God”s as she spoke on for several minutes. At the end, Elizabeth began singing tentatively, as if she weren’t sure of she should go on. Within seconds, the rest of the group chimed in, and they all were singing in Kikuyu. Then, the elderly woman in he 80s jumped excitedly to her feet and started clapping and dancing! She hadn’t stood since we had arrived, and I was surprised at how tiny she was. She was very thin, and couldn’t have stood taller than my shoulder. She was quiet most of the time, but now danced, clapped and sang with an energy that was immediately contagious. She waved her arms like the conductor of an orchestra, and urged the rest of us up with the enthusiasm of a football player who has just scored a touchdown and wants to make the crowd go wild. We all stood and clapped and danced, and the 3 munzungus all grinned as we danced and clapped right along with them.

We stopped briefly at a huge, beautiful school on our way home that was being built by the United Methodist Church. It is by far the most impressive school I have seen in Kenya. Cameron commented that to do anything in Kenya, you much have the church behind you. At this point our driver had left us, and we waited a bit for a matatu to come along to take us home. We had gone in a large loop, and were now along the road that I take when I go to Milka’s house, so it was a familiar ride. By some miracle, we managed to catch a matatu home all together.

When I got home, I found Mama Vicky and Mama Paul in Mama Paul’s room. Mama Paul speaks very little English, but absolutely loves it when I come home and rattle off random Kiswahili or Luo words to her, even if they make no sense at all. I went into the room and proudly announced, “Jina langu ni Akinyi!” The woman burst out laughing and clapping. Mama Vicky gave me a high five, and repeated back to me, “Juna langu ni Akinyi”, as she was also born in the morning.

Gloria!

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Today, Gloria and I became friends! I don’t know how it happened, but tonight we are thick as thieves.

Today is the national holiday marking the date of Kenya’s independence, so there was no work. I left the house at about 10 to go to the gym, but while I was on the matatu, Ruth called and asked if I could meet her to go somewhere. I wasn’t feeling particularly motivated anyway, so we agreed to meet at Café Guava, where I frequently set up shop with my laptop for long periods of time to use their free wireless internet. Ruth and Amos were heading to Nakuru to meet Cameron, the African Director of SpanAfrica, who arrived today.

I arrived at Café Guava and spent a few minutes talking to Dixon, the manager who is quickly becoming a friend. He told me that he is an artist, and is working on creating something just for me. He asks Ali, the waiter, to bring out my usual Americano coffee. I take a seat outside and presently a parade began down Moi Avenue, adjacent to Guava, towards the Afraha Stadium. Everyone came out to watch, and Dixon stood with me to tell me the significance of all the uniforms. Afterwards, I sat reading my book and sipping my coffee. I became aware of the fact that I was still in my gym clothes, and quickly ran into Guava to change into my regular clothes. Ruth arrived, and we left to go to visit her furniture maker. To get to the office, it is necessary to take a boda boda (a bicycle). It is 20ksh to go anywhere in Nakuru Town on a boda boda. The boda bodas are ridden along certain roads, and are not permitted downtown. They have cushioned seats behind the rider, where you sit and then you hold onto mini-handlebars that are attached just below the seat. I was nervous for a second, but it was surprisingly comfortable and stable. I recall nights of riding home on the handlebars in Philly, terrified of falling and wobbling all over, but the boda bodas don’t feel unsafe, even on bumpy, partially paved roads. It was fun, and the breeze felt great on my sunburn.

Later, we met Amos and Cameron in town and went back to the house. Ruth and I prepared lunch and we watched a hilarious made-for-TV movie while it poured and thundered outside. Cameron and I had time to catch up and talk about SpanAfrica and many of the partner organizations. We talked about the challenges and plans and will certainly be talking more throughout the next few months. When the rain let up, I was determined to try to get some exercise after skipping the gym this morning, and decided to walk back to town. I slathered bug repellent all over my arms and left and headed out. As soon as I hit the footpath, I was violently attacked by enormous mosquitoes in the only places I hadn’t applied repellent – my face and neck. I ran like a crazy person, swatting at my face, towards the road as fast as I could to catch a matatu. I guess I will just have to exercise extra hard tomorrow.

When I arrived home, I went to the family room to hang out with Nick and his brother Edward, who is visiting this week. Edward is 28 and a statistics and economics professor at Kenyatta University. He is spending some time here to help Paul with grading his exams. Gloria came in to sit with Cliff, easily her favorite member of the household. As usual, she shied away from me, and even cried a little when Edward, who was sitting beside me on the couch, asked her to come to him, which required passing very close to me. I was working on some writing on the computer, and as Gloria sat with Edward next to me, she inched closer and closer until she even worked up the courage to reach out and try pushing a key, but still kept a wary distance. Then we were called downstairs, so we all left the room. I stopped to drop off my computer, but when I arrived in the kitchen, Gloria turned around, and reached her arms up to me. I picked her up and she laughed. We sat together with her in my lap and shared a mango. We danced around the kitchen, and all had a good time teasing her about not being scared anymore. Shortly before dinner was ready, there was a blackout (fairly standard occurance) and Gloria and I sat together in the pitch-black kitchen while Agatha and Cliff found the kerosene lamp. After dinner, she came up to my room and kicked around an empty toilet paper roll while I worked on writing.

The family finally told me what had frightened her so much in the first place. On the day I arrived, Gloria had told the whole family that she was certain that I would try to eat her. Furahieni chakula chenu!

Meeting the Women of Nina

Monday, May 31, 2010

I left the house at about 7 to head to my first day with the whole group of women in the Nina Initiative. They meet at Milka’s house, and I didn’t have any trouble finding it on my own. When I alighted the matatu at her stop, I was excited to walk up the long path in the brisk morning air (ok, it was freezing and I was totally underdressed because I wanted to wear a tank top to see if I could get some sun). I came upon a woman with a child who was probably about 2 years old. I greeted her, “Haburi?” She laughed and responded, “Mzuri, tu?” and before I could even respond, nudged the small child and said something in Kiswahili that I didn’t understand, but after the child ran up to me, offered his hand and said in a tiny voice “Habari yako, muzungu?” (How are you, whitey?). I responded, “Mzuri, tu?” (I am well, you?) and he beamed with a smile and answered, “Mzuri.” Then he ran back to his mother, who appeared proud. I am not sure if there was some larger significance, but in some way I felt like they had considered me to be a good luck charm. It was a good start to my morning, as sometimes these things can make me feel more like a circus freak than anything else.

I walked further up the path behind a small girl who couldn’t have been more than 4 years old on her way to school. She wore a bright orange dress and watching her swinging her arms and swaying under the weight of her lunchbox under the trees that arched over the path was picturesque. I didn’t want to pass her, should I ruin the moment. As we approached the gate to the nursery school, I couldn’t dawdle anymore and walked up beside her. She gasped, and smiled, and then ran ahead to catch friends on their way in the gate. She nodded in my direction, and they all turned and chorused “How are you? How are you?” I responded in the typical fashion, “I am fine. How are you?” Giggles all around as they rushed into school.

I arrived at Milka’s door at 8, an hour early. The trip was much shorter than I anticipated. She was just sending her daughters off to school, and I was quickly served chai (tea) while she got them out the door. We then took large sacks over to the shamba (farm) to pick weeds for the rabbits. I was doing pretty well until I accidentally picked a potato plant. Milka kindly corrected me, and teased, “You don’t do much agriculture in America, do you?” We both laughed and went back to feed the rabbits.

When the women arrived they all came to sit in the living room of Milka’s house. Just after 9, the door is closed and the women say a prayer to start the day. Any woman who arrives after that time must pay a fee of 10ksh for being late. Each woman pays 20ksh each Monday for materials, and 10ksh for tea later that day. The finances are tallied, attendance taken, and then we all exit to the yard between Milka’s house and her mother’s to begin work. Huge plastic sacks of tangled plastic strips of packaging material are emptied onto the ground. The woman fluff them up, and grap a piece, cut an end and start unraveling. The piles are waist high, and I think we will never get out of this mess. Slowly but surely the strips are untangled and wrapped into sensible rolls. It turns out I am totally incapable of untangling and wrapping the plastic at the same time, so Sara untangles as I wrap up the cords.

Once the women feel they have enough, they begin weaving the bags. Milka starts one for me, and shows me quickly how to do the weaving. About 2 minutes later, Jeniffer, the vice-chair of Nina, stops me and shows me again how to do it. I think I am finally doing it right, when they both stop me again. I have been so focused on my weaving that I hadn’t been paying attention to the outcome. I have begun creating a tube instead of a bag, as my bag has started growing upwards instead of outwards to form a bottom. They both laugh, attracting the attention of the other women, who all laugh too. Milka pulls out my stitches and shows me again how to do it. I finally think I understand, and get back to work. The woman all talk rapidly in Kiswahili and I just listen quietly and focus on my weaving, The plastic is difficult to maneuver, and I have trouble keeping track of my stitches, which is difficult because I am so slow (there is a specific ordering to the stitches so you have to remember where you are in the rotation).

We rotate to stay out of the sun. I am excited to be getting some color, but suddenly worry that I am starting to burn. I move into the shade, but the damage is done. I am very red. We stop for tea, and then keep working. I realize that my tiny little disk is fairly pathetic, as many of the women practically have full bags. Ruth, the treasurer, suggests I might take mine home to work on throughout the week. I agree. She looks at my lopsided disk, takes it from me, and with a few stitches and other mysterious maneuvers, makes it much more pleasant looking. Some women also make necklaces, and I am given one. I am told that I look smart, which I now realize means that I look stylish or pretty. I have been told that several times by passersby and often my young girls, and have been a little bemused by it. At least in the US, blondes are rarely given such a compliment without justification.

Milka insists that I say for lunch, and we have a long talk over the rice, kale and potatoes that she has cooked. We always have good conversation. We talk about Nina’s potential, and brainstorm about the best action plans to raise the funds we need to achieve Nina’s goals. We talk about the idea situations, and how we can get there from where we are now. Nina wants to have a smoothly operating shamba and greenhouse, and it will take a lot to make that happen. We decide to meet with the local Agricultural Officer as soon as possible to get as much information as possible. We are also going to explore new methods of income generation through sales of the bags, jewelry and other goods the woman can make. We think about new venues for sales, and the feasibility of various methods. It is clear that The Nina Initiative is not short on talent or ideas. In the coming months, we just need to figure out how to execute on the tremendous potential that these remarkable women have to offer.

I head home and when I am walking back through Nakuru, I notice a bump on the inside of my finger. I have a blister from crocheting bags. I am oddly proud. It suits me to get a blister from doing the girliest thing I have done in a long time!

A Roadtrip to Kisumu

Saturday, May 29, 2010

On Friday night we celebrated Paul’s birthday with sponge cake and tiny cordial glasses of apple juice. I even shared a tiny piece of cake, because as usual when I decline to eat something, I am strongly urged to eat it anyway and do. After a very very long prayer and some songs in Luo from Paul’s mother, it was suggested that I accompany Mama Vicky on her journey to Kisumu the following day to attend the funeral of one of Paul’s in-laws. Paul was to travel to Tanzania on business and wouldn’t be attending.

On Saturday morning, Mama Vicky, Dan Gamba, Paul’s brother, and I went to the funeral of Dan’s wife’s aunt outside Kisumu, near Lake Victoria in Western Kenya. It was about a 4 hour drive away, across the Western side of the Rift Valley, over the Mau Mountain Range and down past the tea region and the sugar region.

At about 7:30am, Mama Vicky, Dan and I pulled out of the driveway in the Gamba’s large silver Land Cruiser. We headed over to a small community to pick up our driver for the trip, a very pleasant man named Omondi, who is a taxi driver in town and a friend to the Gambas. We drove in several circles looking for various ingredients for our trip, such as gas, air for the tires, but we had a very difficult time finding coolant. After some time, we returned to the house to get some coolant that was in the garage, and as we were about to finally about to leave, Mama Vicky’s sister-in-law and nephew pulled in the driveway, at which we all got back out of the car to greet them. At long last, we hit the road at about 9:30 am. Omondi was a fast but safe driver, and at first the roads were well paved and the ride was comfortable.

I sat in the back seat with Mama Vicky, and heard stories about all the places as we passed. I brought my book, but the scenery was so beautiful I never ever thought of it. In the way that Colorado has big sky, Kenya has big land. Scattered clouds cast moving shadows over the shambas and plains, making it appear even more vast. As we ascended the Mau Mountain Range, leaving the Rift Valley, the trees became larger and Mama Vicky’s stories increased. We passed a clearing where builders were working on an odd looking structure. Mama Vicky tells me that an oil tanker turned over at a roadside village in that location and created a spill. The villagers came to the site of the accident and began filling containers with the oil. One person thoughtlessly lit a cigarette, and the whole scene went up in flames. Hundreds of people were burnt beyond recognition. The structure that was being built was a mass grave, marking the site of the accident. As we continued on our trip, we passed many tractor-trailer accidents, several of them involving oil trucks. At each, we witnessed people walking away from the scene carrying containers of stolen oil. Each time a hush fell over the car, which was finally broken by someone pointing out the desperation that exists in some parts of Kenya, causing people to continue this practice despite the obvious dangers.

As we reached the Mau summit, we passed a small Kikuyu village called Molo, a place that was hard-hit by the 2007-2008 post-election violence in Kenya. Small homes dotted the landscape with no roofs and a cluster of houses in the village center stood bare and with black soot streaking the outer walls, a vivid reminder of the fires that left them so bare. In the time following the election, the Molo community was systemically hacked to death and their town burnt because they were Kikuyu. A bit further down the road we passed a small village of white tents, a camp for the displaced. Scenes like this can be found throughout Kenya, a stern reminder of the strong tribal allegiances that can pull this country apart. Later in the week, as Mama Vicky and I sat watching the news, we spoke about the scene in Molo, and the effect on the community where I live, called Olive Inn. As violence escalated around the country, stories poured in about bodies left along the roads and a strict curfew was enforced by military officers with shoot-to-kill orders for violators. Mama Vicky told me how the residents of Kiamunyi, the neighborhood in which Olive Inn is located, held a meeting to disuss the violence. It is a mixed community, primarily Kikuyu and Luo, which happen to be the two tribes most warring at the time. They agreed to maintain peace, and it was so maintained while chaos erupted all around the country. Many displaced people were sheltered in the Showgrounds, a large meeting site in Kiamunyi, which I pass daily on my way to and from town. As Kenyans look forward, it seems that peace among the tribes is stable but tenous. There is a lot of history that I do not understand completely, and may not ever understand completely. Tribal affiliation is spoken about openly, and it is not rude to ask about what tribe someone it, although usually Kenyans can tell amongst each other.

Kenya is holding a referendum on a new constitution on August 4th, the first real voting since the terrible violence broke out in 2007. The new constitution is very interesting to learn about, and I love talking to Vicky and Nick (two of the 20-somethings that I live with) about controversial stuff. It's a huge topic of conversation, and everyone has something to say about it. The population is so diverse, and the whole process is completely marred in controversy for a bunch of reasons. Nick, Vicky and I get into these conversations about abortion and gay rights (both are illegal now and under the new constitution) and about the role of laws vs. the constitution.

We stopped to pick up food to give to the family of the deceased at the funeral at a roadside hut. When I exited the car, a boy of about 15 was helping to load the goods into the back. He started giggling uncontrollably when he saw me. I am not sure if it was humorous or nervousness, but it was friendly in nature. I just smiled. When we got back in the car, Dan told me that we were approaching “tea land”. I got very excited, as I have developed a strong addiction to Kenyan tea. It is served 2-3 times daily. The water is boiled with the milk, and then the tea is added with masala (spices, often including ginger, which is my favorite) and it is cooked until it is ready. I haven’t figured out the trick to is, but apparently when it is cooked sufficiently, you cannot taste the tea leaves anymore.

As we approached the tea region, I would point out unfamiliar plants, asking, “Is that tea?” Finally Dan turned around from the front seat and said, “you will know when we are there.” And I did. The landscape of the tea region is breathtaking and beautiful and utterly different from any part of Kenya I have seen yet. The fields are impeccably groomed by hand and I imagine you could putt a golf ball perfectly along the tops of the low bushes. There are perfectly straight pathways between the fields for the workers to walk so as not to disrupt the plants. Young trees are interspersed in the fields, the fuel for the furnace of the neighboring tea processing plants. The tea plants grow on the mountainsides, so from the road you look down on these perfect fields, and in many can see colorfully dressed workers diligently picking leaves and tossing them over their heads into sacks on their backs. Further below there are small tic-tac houses that are all identical – the lodging for the tea workers. It is idyllic and I wanted to stop to take a photo, but I thought it might be inappropriate as we were already running late to the funeral. I will definitely request a stop next time.

Shortly after this we passed through Kisumu City, which was big and I didn’t see much of it. I saw Lake Victoria from a distance, and the mountains of Uganda beyond that. We passed out of Kisumu City and bit poorly paved roads, and eventually turned onto a very bumpy dirt road. Cars and tour busses lined the path, and more were parked in clearings along the way. We pulled into the family’s compound, and I could hear voices coming from large speakers, speaking in Luo. There were hundreds of people in the lawn, sitting on plastic chairs. Paul, Mama Vicky and I stood for a moment, and someone came and took our picture, without asking, and I assumed it was because a muzungu had arrived. I thought it was a little rude, but ignored it. Shortly, Dan’s wife, Pauline, came to fetch us and walked us up the main isle, in front of the bishop who was just beginning his sermon to a seat under one of the several large white tents that would have been befitting any large wedding.

It was fascinating to see the whole ceremony. The local Bishop delivered the service in Kiswahili, Luo (a tribal language that I only understand minimally) and English, but he was very good. In the car on the way home, Pauline told me that he knew he was speaking to a very diverse audience, so he had intentionally focused his speech on how being a good person is the most important thing, and less on the particularities of Catholicism. I thought that was really progressive, as here people tend to fall out of their chairs with shock when I say that I don't attend church at home. Some people are more open-minded than others.

Once the Catholic service was over, the service was taken over by the many present politicians. It seems Mama Sara, the woman who passed, was very influential and wealthy. Her 9 children included 2 District Chiefs, several professors and the Vice Chancellor of Nairobi University. The politicians went on and on about the upcoming referendum vote on the proposed constitution. There is endless discussion about the new constitution, and I enjoy learning about it, and everyone has an opinion that they are willing to share. Still, I thought it improper to use a funeral as a way to reach a large influential constituency. Pauline must have agreed, and we got up from our prominent seats, crossed directly behind the speaker and went to have some lunch.

Dan, Mama Vicky, Pauline and I left shortly thereafter to return to Nakuru. The ride back took about 6 hours on account of several more accidents and some rain. I think all-in-all we passed about 8 overturned tractor-trailers on our trip. It was remarkable. The only really notable part of our ride home was when we were flagged over by some police. Dan and Omondi seemed initially nervous, but when they began speaking to the officer, their tone lightened. The officer shone his light in our car and was surprised to find 3 women in the backseat. When he seemed satisfied, we carried on and I asked what had happened as everyone in the car burst out laughing. Apparently the officers were overtaken by another car in the dark, which proceeded to drive them off the road, rob them of everything including their guns. They were embarrassed and only looking for tips.

When we arrived home, everyone was here, including much extended family. I was about to fall asleep, when we were called to an enormous dinner. I slept like a rock, in bed with Vicky to accommodate all the extra people in the house.

Kenyan Conversation

Friday, May 28, 2010

I have been going over and over in my head to find a good way to explain the Kenyan manner of speaking, and I am struggling to pinpoint it exactly. The best I can say is that it is incredibly vague, and everything exists in superlative. For example, I came downstairs today and Mama Vicky handed me an avocado from her tree that she has been saving for me for days and told me that tomorrow I must eat is (again, MUST eat it). I said I was very excited, and she whips around and says, “You are excited? Avocados are your favorite?” I have learned by now that favorite is not an exclusive term, and can be applied to anything you like at all. If it is not your favorite, you will probably never see it again, so I just say that everything is my favorite. About 3 minutes later, Mama Vicky is setting the food on the table, which includes chapati, a fried bread/pancake that I hadn’t had yet. I hear her call from the dining room with an unusually nervous tone, “Alex, suppose that chapati isn’t your favorite???”, I laugh, and respond, “Mama Vicky, suppose it isn’t? Will you kick me out of the house?” She storms back into the kitchen and takes me strongly by the shoulder, “Alex, No! I will make you ugali instead. I know you love ugali!” End of conversation. She transitions swiftly into Kiswahili with Paul’s mother, who is staying with us because she has a swollen foot. For the record, I don’t LOVE ugali, I think it’s just fine, so I am compelled to say that I LOVE it. In Kenya, you either love something or you hate it. There is no middle ground.

Everything is also completely vague. When you ask how far away someplace is, it is either very very near, or very very far. And these things are compared to a sliding reference point for distance. Asking for more detail never helps., for example:

Me: “Is it very far like Kisumu, or very near like Naka?” (translation: is it an 8 hour drive, or a 15 minute drive away?).

Kenyan: “OK, OK, it is kind of far like Isiolo.”

Me: “Where is Isiolo?”

Kenyan: “OK, sawa, I will take you some fine weekend.”

Me: “I would like that.” (I have no idea where I just agreed to go.)

My student Antony and I usually bicker most of the day about little things in life. We get into a discussion about femininity and masculinity because I am a girl, and I randomly use a piece of pink scrap paper to sketch something and Antony turns it into a full-scale debate about gender roles based on pink being a girl’s color, and blue being a boy’s color. I say that I like pink, so Antony exclaims, “so you LOVE pink!” I say I don’t know if I would say I LOVE pink, but I like it Antony responds, “so you HATE pink!” I say I think pink is good, but I also like blue. Antony gets angry, “so you LOVE blue?!?!” I am now just annoyed by the total lack of use of descriptive words other than LOVE and HATE. I retort that I don’t think I have the capacity to truly LOVE or HATE a color anyway. Vienna and Amos burst out laughing and Antony changes the subject. I am not sure who won this debate, but I feel good about it.