The Have's and the Have Not's

Monday was Republic day in which Kenyans celebrate much like Americans might celebrate an independence day. They observe both independence and republic days. I spent a part of the day at a cookout at Mark (Josephine's husbands) bosses house. He works for Microsoft and his boss lived in a modern and beautiful home just outside of the slums in Kisumu, the third largest city in Kenya. On the way to the beautiful gated house we passed slums, bare-foot children, begging cripples on the side of the road, factories that pollute the air and are just steps from people homes, garbage piles, roaming animals that shit where they please, etc...before we arrived at the house and one of the two armed guards opened the gate. The party was held in the guest house where we were served as much food and drink as our bellies could hold. Toward the end of the party, I was recovering from my "itis" when a man sat beside me and decided he wanted to small talk. I really wasn't in the mood. I am not very fond of African men in general, and I knew I wasn't going to like this one.
"So! How do you find Kenya?"
"I love it. It is a beautiful country."
"Say, is this your first time in Africa?"
"No. I visited Ghana earlier this summer"
"Oh, so Kenya is more developed than Ghana. Yes?" (Why is he asking me this?)
"Um. It depends on what you consider development."
"Eh, What do you mean?" (Why is this man pressing me? I am trying to be nice.)
"Well if you consider development tall buildings and paved roads; then yes, Kenya is developing quickly and maybe more so than Ghana. But if you consider development everyone having access to clean water, decent housing situations, low HIV/AIDS rates, and opportunities for employment, then no Kenya is not more developed than Ghana. I see more people here with lots of money, but I also see an over-abundance of impoverished people. I see more poor people than I see people like yourself. So until the masses are living a decent life in which their most basic needs are met, than perhaps a country is not truly developed."
"Eh. I see." (Was that a look of embarrassment on his face? Perhaps he had ignored the slums we passed on the way to this one gated mansion.).
"Well, I have to go now. Nice talking with you"
I could not stand this man another second. I have such mixed feelings about success in the form of wealth in this country. It was great to see Mr. Microsoft-Boss man was a brother and all the people on the team were black as well. Black people doing well in Africa! That did my heart some good. But I am somehow disgusted by their disconnection to all the poor people, who look just like them, who are surrounding them. If you talk to a wealthy African about the poverty of the vast majority of African people, they will respond as if they are talking about a distant stranger, "Oh yes. It is so sad for them". This furthers my belief that race is still an issue in America, and throughout the world; but race is no longer the issue. Socio-economics and class divisions are the civil rights issue of our time. It is not just an American issue, it is global issue...and it just happens that the majority of poor people are people of color. But the focus should no longer be Black people the focus should surely be poor people... Note: I am a big fan of Dr. Martin Luther King's work and 3 years before he died his focus was on class division. He wanted more rights for poor people because he noticed that the civil rights movement had benefited middle-class Blacks...not the Blacks that the movement intended to benefit. Read about it...it is very interesting that he called that so long ago and it reins true today.

Later that day we went back to Josephine's village, Kendu Bay, and I listened to the president's Republic day speech while shucking corn with my bare hands. Josephine's family is a farming family, like most of the people in the Western Province, and they were removing corn from the cob to sell it in the market. At first I was enjoying the novelty of it all: Here I am, in a remote village in Africa, shucking corn, talking with the locals, listening the presidents speech on an old radio, a chicken just walked by me, the dog is asleep at my feet, I am full, I am happy, it's a good life...And then I noticed that my thumbs were starting to get tired, because we were doing this by hand. I wanted to stop but every one else looked so content and peaceful and I didn't want to complain like a weak little privileged American! I worked on. Maybe a conversation would help. "So, how often do you all remove the corn from the cob like this?"
The grandmother smiled. "EVERYDAY!"
"Oh. For how many hours?"
"Some days 8 hours, some days 13 hours. It depends on the sun and on how much money we need to make in the market."
1 more hour passes by. Fuck. I'm screwed. I physically can't do this anymore. My thumbs are going to bleed...or break off.
"Okay. I am tired. I have to stop now. My thumbs are broken."
Laughter.
A boy decides to share something to cheer me up, "Yes. It is hard work. You have to get used to it. You did a good job. There are actually machines to do this work now. We just can't afford that, so we do it this way. Here, drink some water."
I sat down and pretended to drink the water he handed me, because I don't want to show my American-ness again by reminding him that I can only drink bottled water. But while I sat I thought about the conversation that I had with the idiot man at the party earlier that day and his comments disturbed me all the more. Perhaps he had never done this type of work? Maybe no one he knows does this type of work? Or maybe, just maybe, he really didn't care about the people who remove corn from a cob all day so that they can survive in homes with scarcely running electricity, unclean water, inadequate health care and who can't earn enough money to escape it...no matter how hard they work...and believe me....they were working really hard.

Western Provience: Obama's Tribe

This weekend Josephine invited me to visit her family in the Western region. On the way there we passed the Great Rift Valley! The problem with taking photos in Africa is that you pass so many great places right by. Luckily the driver stopped so that I could take a picture here. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Rift_Valley.

I also saw the most beautiful Kenyan women who were very traditionally dressed. I could not get their pictures though because you already know how the locals feel about people taking their pictures. I guess I understand about no one wanting to be made a display of but i don't think they realize how unique they are to the rest of the world. This is a picture that looks like the lady I saw, actually, there were several villages full of women who dressed in this fashion. They were really captivating and beautiful to see!

We went to Josephine's home village, Kendu Bay, and stayed in her mother's compound. It was very nice and quaint and quiet. I liked it. Josephine's mother has taken in several orphaned children over the years. Now they are teenagers, and they help her out around the house. I felt a little sorry for the people who grow up there and never get out. The teenagers kept asking me if I wanted services from them, "Can I wash your clothes?", "Do you need something from town?" One took another approach altogether, "I want to be your friend. If we are friends, when you go to town will you buy me something". It was so annoying! But I am becoming more and more sympathetic to the mental/emotional/behavioral affects of poverty. These kids just wanted an opportunity to make some extra money. Anyway, since there wasn't much to do. I sat under a tree with Josephine and caught up on some reading for a class.

By the way, Josephine is a member of the Luo tribe, and so is Obama's father. Obama come to Kenya in 2006 to visit his grandmother and to make a speech (Obama and I have traveled to the same African countries, Kenya and Ghana). During this visit he also encouraged Kenyans to get tested for HIV/AIDS, and he and Michelle were publicly tested in order to remove the stigma of testing and encourage others to join them. I love the Obama's.

Back to the blog at hand...where was I...Oh yes! I was stuck on the farm... Eventually, someone decided to take mercy on me and offered to arrange to take me around town. So, a young man named, well I forgot his name, took me around on his motorbike.

Our first stop was at Lake Victoria, the largest lake in Africa and the second largest lake in the world. I don't think it was all that impressive, it was a massive lake, but I did enjoy seeing a place I taught my students about.

There were ladies cleaning the fish that the men caught earlier that day. I asked to take a picture with one of the ladies and she made me buy her a coke for this picture that was ruined by my driver who did not understand that I did not want him in my photos. He actually go on my nerves. He kept talking about how hungry he was and asking me could I buy him lunch. We stopped and got something to eat...yes, I paid for it...but the begging and constantly being asked for stuff gets old. It makes it hard to form relationships with people when you constantly fear that they are going to ask you for something, or even worse, offer you something and then ask you to pay for it later (after you were under the impression someone was being nice to you). Nothing is free in this country. Not even friendship.

When then went to Simbi lake. It was really beautiful. I have two stories about Simbi lake.

Both were told to me by a young man who guided me through the lake, since my driver didn't know anything and his English was iffy unless he was pestering me for something. The first story was told while me and some kids ate the sugar cane he shared with us... A long time ago Simbi was a thriving compound full of life and many people; however the people who lived in Simbi were drunkards. One day it started to rain, and it rained very heavily for many many days. An old lady came upon the compound and she asked the locals for refuge from the rain. Everyone denied her safety and slammed their doors in her face. She knocked on every door, but absolutely no one would help her. When she reached the last door and was again denied entry, a curse was placed upon the village. The rain continued for many more weeks until the village eventually sunk into the ground. It is said that the small village is under the lake, and many people believe that if you throw a rock into the lake it will never reach the bottom. The End. If you asked me this story sounds an awful lot like the biblical story of Sodom and Gomorrah. Actually, the more I travel and read the more I am noticing that stories are repeated and morals are taught using the similar tales; religious, fantasy, tall tale, village stories...they are all relativity the same. So the next story was about the White men that came to Simbi Lake. So, there were some White men who came to Simbi Lake to help people in the village by providing them with more fish. They had big boats and lots of fancy machines. The men dumped hundreds of fish into the lake in hopes of giving the local people more fish (which makes no sense to me considering that this village is on Lake Victoria and they could just to there to get fish...). The village people tried to tell the White men that no fish can live in the lake because of it's mystery, but they continued about their scientific work. Eventually, the White men came to check on their project and found that all the fish had died. The villagers were right!...but the real reason none of the fish lived is because the Lake has an extremely high salt continent, much like the dead sea, and it is not good for anything but producing salt. Oh, and while I am talking about real things...according to Lonely Plant Kenya addition "Simbi Lake sunk into the earth like a bomb crater". However, I think the kids and I were far more entertained by the local story than the one offered in Lonely Planet. So yes, Simbi Lake is a sunken village that reminds us that drunkenness is bad and so is being unkind to strangers.

Breakfast the Most Important Meal of the day!

I know I already uploaded several pictures of the work that I do at the center...but my favorite part of the day is serving the children breakfast. The center usually serves the children from the slums both breakfast and lunch, but since school is out and many of them are away visiting their families in the countryside, they are only serving breakfast. Breakfast usually consist of bread and tea or porridge. On this particular day, porridge was served.

The kids grab a cup and wait and line. Many come back for seconds, sometimes thirds.

This kid couldn't get enough. I think this was visit number three or four for him. Everyone else had already turned in their cups.

For the record, working in a center like this makes me very critical of the evil commercials we see on television about he hungry little African children. First of all, the commercials are correct in that many children and Africa, Kenya, do not have enough to eat. This is true. However, the way the children are made to look unkept, and uncared for is cruel and intentional. It makes me sick. Many of these children are orphaned by HIV/AIDS and they live in slums; however, they are often being cared for by a family member or other people in the community. These children are washed and lotioned and brushed daily. Of course there are a couple of snotty noses and ripped pants because these are CHILDREN and even more so because they are poor children.

Much like it seems that the newscasters find the most ignorant, illiterate, Black person to tell the story, the Feed-the-Children organizations target the outliers: the poorest, snottiest, nakedest, pitifullest, and try to make them seem like the norm. Don't give money to those organizations. Of a dollar, I bet 30 cents of it makes it to the children...and of that 30 cent, 20 cent is likely stolen by the African organizations that are full of corruption. If you really want to help children in Africa, or in any developing nation, get on a plane and come over. Buy the food when you get there...don't give money. See to it that the food is cooked and the children are served. Sadly, it is the only way to really know that your money really went to the children
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She Washed My Dirty Drawers

I have been wanting to post about the work I am doing but I am hoping to post with pictures and I am having a problem getting pictures uploaded. So I will post about that later...

Today, I have almost burned a bridge with my favorite person in the house, Emily (the HIV positive househelp). I have been planning to do my laundry for the past few days but now that I am volunteering everyday, I have not been able to do my laundry while the sun is up (cause I need to hang it on the line when it is done) so I have not done it. Joesphine told me her maid, Emily does the laundry and I should just give my laundry to her. I bundled up my clothes, took them to Emily and went off for another day of volunteering. A few hours later, I was delighted when I came home to find my clothes clothes washed, ironed and neatly folded on my bed. Great!

A few hours later...
"Knock, Knock". Came the knock on my bedroom door.
"Adrianne we need to talk", Josephine said with a stern look on her face.
I immediately begin to wonder what did I do wrong, because I know I am the type of person who just messes up in her sheer existence. I couldn't think of anything so I braced myself for the worst, "Emily is very upset about the laundry. You left your underwear in the laundry and that is a sign of great disrespect in Kenya."
My heart sank. Is that why there are always underwear hanging in the bathroom? I just thought they didn't have enough to wait til laundry day! I was supposed to wash my own drawers!
"Oh my God! I am so sorry. I had no idea!" and I really didn't considering that is something that they failed to mention in Lonely Planet Kenya addition. Dammit!
"Why did she wash them?! She could have left them out. I would have washed them myself." I asked with genuine concern.
"She was being nice to you because she knows you are a foreigner. But your actions have made her think that you think of her as low. She is really hurt." Had I seriously accidentally told Emily to kiss my ass...or wash my ass. That's horrible! I am a horrible person! Josephine goes on, "when a women starts menstruation she doesn't allow others to clean her panties. Only men and children have their underwear washed by others". (Men and children? Are these the helpless people of the society?)
"Oh. Well just so you know, I hadn't menstruated in any of those panties." yes, I felt the need to say that, "but I get the point. Should I go apologize?"
"It would be nice but the language barrier is a problem," Josephine reminded me that Emily does not speak any English and I speak no Swahili.
I sat on the edge of the bed and thought about what I should do. AH HA!
Quick as a flash I grabbed some of the panties Emily washed and ran down the stairs. I found Emily in the kitchen washing dishes. I turned her around and showed her the panties. Then I got the most pitiful look on my face, which wasn't hard cause I really felt bad, and said I am so sorry over and over. I gave her hugs and kisses and kept saying I am sorry. She understood. She hugged me back and laughed at my ridiculous display. Josephine laughed too.
I think we might be friends again.
I am now going to bed...but before I sleep, I must respectfully take the time to hang my hand washed drawers amongst the others in the bathroom.
Goodnight!

The Slums

Note: Due to my problem loading photo's I had to wait to post this blog. This was written on Tuesday, December 6th.

Today was my first day volunteering. But before I get to that I will start with last night. I have been having a really hard time going to sleep. First of all, the bed that I am currently sleeping in is in a little girls room and has a terrible mattress. The mattress is actually caved in the middle so that it does not support my body at all. Every morning I wake up and my back is killing me. I have started to stuff blankets under the center of the bed in hopes of getting a flat service to sleep upon. I am not sure if I am accomplishing this goal. Also, there are a lot of starving dogs that bark and cry through the night. It is miserable. And, I keep worrying about mosquito's so I don't leave the window's open (because they don't have screens) and there is also no fan in the room so it gets quite stuffy as the night goes on. Not to mention the 8 hour time difference that has me totally out of wack. I think I managed to get about 2 hours of sleep last night. I woke up at 6 a.m. this morning and prepared for my first day of work. The name of the children's center is...well I forgot the name, but it is run by local women who are mostly retired and seeking to help improve the community. The center is located in the slums and serves poor school children lunch everyday.They also provide free childcare services for 3-6 year-olds. Many of the children that they serve are abandoned by the effects of HIV/AIDS...either both of their parents have died or one died and the other left in order to hide the shame of their sickness. Some children live with their grandparents; however most of the children who come here are on their own and are somehow raising each other. DsSome of them are HIV/AIDS positive themselves. Since the children are currently out of school many of them come to the center during the day to hang out with other children and to get a hot meal. The government periodically sends programs to help teach the children; according to Ms. Mary they NEVER send money. I came in during a government health program to teach children about safe sex...actually, that is not what they did at all. They taught the children about abstinence and the teacher told the class, "Just forget about sex until you are married." One boy raised his hand and asked "What about masturbation?" The teacher looks shocked and said, "You should engage yourself in other activities that will expend your energy. Go for jogging. Go play football. Go to church. These things will help you forget about sex." In a country where HIV/AIDS has become such an epidemic that economic growth has been effected, I think masturbation would be a dear friend to young adults, especially those who have already lost a loved one to the disease. This disturbed me so much, that I had to talk to the teacher after class. After lying and telling him how much I enjoyed his lesson, I went in for the kill, "Sooo....Is this a religious program or a government program?".
"Oh, it is a government program that was sponsored by the Catholic church".
"So what would be the problem with young people, with God-given sexual desires, masturbating?".
"God doesn't want that," pause, "and they might become addicted to it!"
My experience in Ghana taught me to leave it there. When someone is so culturally different it is impossible to argue. I guess I just want to make friends while here so everyone won't hate me. It made my heart hurt a lot though. The more I talk to locals the more I understand the HIV/AIDS epidemic is so deep, it is more than just a health issue, it arises from so many social issues. One of them being the lack of education. The other is, the lack of education by internal people who are best fit to solve their own problems. Why in the world would Catholics not acknowledge that they need to alter their message for the unique circumstance of the African people. They should! Especially considering that they, and other White Christians, caused half of Africa's problems when they arrived on the continent hundreds of years ago. Sadly, they are still a great contributor to African's problems today. So I decided I did not want to continue to sit in on the sex-mis-education class...

I went to the kitchen to see if they needed any help. They put me work immediately! I love working in the kitchen with the women and girls. They teach me Swahili. We laugh. We work. Back breaking work. The hardest work I've ever done in a kitchen in my life. I sweat. I choke on the air. I chop. I chop some more. I take a break. I chop some more. I wash dishes. My back hurts. I take a break. I was more dishes. I sweep. I mop. I stir. Only for a minute. They take the spoon away in disgust with my stirring. We laugh. I love the kitchen. Check me out:


The first thing I do every morning is cut and clean vegetables. These potatoes were covered in dirt when I first started (farmers don't wash certain vegetables in the market...usually the ones that people are going to peel the skin off of). All the leaf vegetables are cut really fine. This bowl of cabbage is huge and took forever.

Then we serve the children breakfast. Sorry, I didn't get any pictures of that.


Then I help wash dishes. This is truly back breaking work, but the girls help me. Water is really important, so there is no running water used to wash dishes. We make one huge pot of water and wash a million dishes in it.


Then I take a break and read a book for about an hour while drinking a cup of tea. Everyone loves to offer a cup of tea in Kenya...and the tea is pretty good...if only they didn't put so much milk in it...



I probably read about 5 pages a day because the kids interrupt my reading with their games and questions. "How do you say Kenya in your language?" a girl asked. "Kenya", I respond. The crack up laughing. "How do you say rice in your language?" "Rice." They laugh again. "You all realize that we both speak English? Most of the words are going to be the exact same". Yet, the continue to ask these questions for another hour or so...I don't mind one bit.


Finally, I help cook lunch in these huge firewood burning stoves. In this picture I was cooking ugali, which is the Kenyan version of grits. It is eaten for breakfast and lunch and served in a harder more solid form than American grits. You eat it with your hands with stew. I like it. But it was hard to make. It is impossible to stir, so my arms were getting tired. Notice all the smoke in this picture. I would run outside every 10 stirs and go get some fresh air. I was coughing and my eyes were turning red. The old lady in the kitchen was crying laughing of me. None of the Kenyan women left the kitchen even once...

Important Conversations

Kenya is not Ghana. I now understand a why many people refer to Ghana as "Africa for Beginners" as it is consistently cited as the safest country on the continent and maintains one of the lowest HIV/AIDS rates in sub-Saharan Africa. All that said, Josephine picked me up late today so I was unable to start volunteering; however she did take me to meet Ms. Mary who is the director of the center where I will volunteer. Ms. Mary informed me that they are currently hosting a seminar for children between the ages of 9-15 about health, but mostly about safe sex. She said, "children are doing it earlier and earlier and we have to get them before it is too late". I am to help with the session. She also told me not to pack a lunch, and to plan to eat whatever is served at the center. I am down, although I have to admit a slight bit of concern with my personal health. Not to be a jerk, but I have to give my stomach some time to adjust (all of my fellow developing nation travelers would support me on this). Anyway, the center is not the same place as the orphanage that I originally thought I would work in. The orphanage is located in the center of Kibera and I cannot go there because it has been raining a lot, and that means that the sewage has come up; therefore, the roads that lead deep into the slum, where orphanage is, are literally shit. I cannot say that I am disappointed about my inability to volunteer there because today Ms. Josephine had a talk with me in the car that let me know I might not be ready for Kibera, at least not on my own. "Adrianne," Josephine warned, "you need to lock up your things when you leave my house tomorrow. My housemaid, Emily is very sweet and I trust her completely. She found out she had HIV/AIDS in 2001, she contracted it from her husband, and she has had a hard time finding work. She works for my family and she is so glad to be here with us. She is in very good health and has not needed to start ATV's, but she might need them soon...Well, my brother's sister is also working for our family and I do not trust her at all. You need to lock your things in your bag. Also, when you go into town tomorrow don't take a lot of money or important things because crime is very high in Nairobi in December." I asked why, "I really don't know why but it just is". Since that conversation I have gotten online and looked up some information about Kenya. Yes, yes, I probably should have done this before I got here, but those who know me well know that it just not how I do things. So forgive, love me, and move on to the next sentence. Kenya is one of the poorer countries in Africa with a very high percentage of its population living in poverty. High poverty results in high crime. Hell, people have to meet their basic needs. Also, the HIV/AIDS rates in this country are a bit high. Finally, the political situation in the country is not that great; there are some issues with Sudan and along the Ethiopian boarder. So with that said, I plan to continue my journey using the caution that I had to use on this mornings walk with Furaha, Josephine’s nine-year-old daughter:
"Furaha, I am going out for a run. Do you know a path that I could take to circle the neighborhood?"
"Yes, come I will show you. It is muddy because of the rain. You might not be able to run."
"Well, show many anyway, because I need to go for a run eventually."
"Okay."
"Wow, you are right, it is really muddy out here. I cannot run like this. I can barely even walk. I will walk on the grass because that it easier."
"Okay." Five minutes pass "Adrianne, you are very brave"
"What? What would make you say that?"
"Because you are not afraid of the frogs and snakes in the grass."

Another Former British Colony

I arrived in Kenya at 1:30 a.m last night. I am staying with a very nice family, the Matunga's. So far I have learned 2 words and 1 commonly asked question in Swahili. I have gone to the market and to the mall. I have exchanged my dollars for shillings and I got a SIM card for my phone. I have noticed a lot of similarities and a lot of differences from Ghana but I am hesitant to make any blatant statements, as I have just arrived. Do know, however, that once I get my bearings my opinions are well on their way! Tonight, I am tired. I will rest now. Tomorrow I will begin volunteering in Kibera, Kenya's largest slum and the second largest slum in Africa. I will be feeding children at an orphanage that takes in children with or orphaned by HIV/AIDS. I can't wait!