China Man

The China man is all over Africa. Wait, let me try that again. The China man is all over the world. He is slowly creeping his way into world superpower or dare I say domination? Mark my words, in my lifetime or in my children's lifetime, we will likely see East Asian nations (China, Japan, South Korea) emerging as the most powerful nations in the world. I mean seriously, America is already BILLIONS of dollars in debt to China. Shouldn't that be a red flag? Well today my focus is not the China man in America cause we can look at our clothes, household items, and damn near everything we use and find his domination there. Today, my focus is the China Man in Africa. Kenya and Ghana to be precise. Many African nations depend on foreign aid, especially those that are in the beginning stages of "developing nation". In order to receive that aid, that is largely from the U.S. and other Western nations, they must adhere to some of the desires of these European countries. For example, today I was reading in the paper that Kenya is unable to sign a human rights document because it is in violation in a few areas. They must met this requirement to continue to receive aid from/ do business with the U.S. Well China is not like that at all. They don't care about human rights violations and corruption. They want business. They are doing all the business all over Africa. They building the roads, the buildings, all the cars are Asian, etc...The China man is literally building just about every African nation. Kenya currently has a plan to increase the quality of life for all Kenyans by 2030. They are first starting with improving the roads. There are road building projects all over the country. It looks great! It feels nice to ride down a smooth road without fearing the upcoming pothole. The problem with all this quick development is that it is causing the cost of living to increase. The food, gas, market prices are all on the rise. However there is not an increase in employment opportunities or wages. So far this 2030 plan will result in further isolation of the poor. All of this development is financially beneficial to other countries. 50% of the people building the roads, especially those in the high paying/skilled-labor positions, are imported from China. There are a lot of Indian and Europeans here taking advantage of the developing economy, especially in the technology sector....many Kenyan's don't even have the skills to do the work. All this growth is not benefiting the locals as much as I think it should. Since I have arrived in Kenya there have already been 2 major strikes. The first was when the doctors went on strike, yes the doctors went on strike?! for about a week and a half due to under-payment. The nurses struggled to keep the patients alive until the government finally promised the doctors an increase in wages in the coming year. Then the matutu drives went on strike. The cost of gas has gotten so high that they no longer are earning enough profit to make the rides worth anything but a few cent. So why don't they increase the price of the ride? Well, that was my first question too. But the people don't have enough money to pay the increased fare. They will refuse to pay. What to do? What to do?

She's Your Queen to Be!

Angela is here! A big part of the reason she came to Kenya is to be in her cousins wedding. Today was the big day! I have always wanted to attend an African Wedding and Saturday I was able to do just that. So, I will admit I am a bit critical of weddings because I think they totally objectify women and display them as property to be "given away", they assume this idea of purity as desirable and all other realities as deviant (wearing white and being unveiled), in Kenya they still pay dowry's, and overall the whole thing can be a bit overdone/expensive/silly. I mean it is a ceremony, so when I think about most ceremony's parts of them are laughable. It is hilarious to watch people become so unnatural and so deliberate and intentional about their actions and words. All and all, it is a big scene....Now that I have totally criticized the entire wedding, I will say that the bride and groom looked very happy and it felt good to participate in the celebration of the love between two people. The bride was just beautiful. She looked like a doll baby under her snow mountain of a dress.
The couple live in Seattle, Washington and are both nurses. They have dated for over 8 years and finally decided to get married.Angela was a bridesmaid.And I was able to take a picture with the bride and groom because the photographer called for "all people from America" for a photo and I was forced by friends get up there.So the couple decided to have their wedding in Kenya because it is drastically cheaper to have a HUGE wedding. This was by far the longest wedding I have ever been to. Everyone had to introduce themselves (what the hell?), and present their gifts to the bride and groom (long presentations in the form of song, dance or money and all), Pray over the bride and groom (and boy did we pray!) and do a whole lot of other things that made the wedding and reception last a total of 10 HOURS.Salma and I were bored so we talked about other things, like the other guest were doing because all of us were delirious, and we harassed the flower girl for pictures and for her veil. Salma has wedding and baby fever, which is not surprising considering that she just got married herself, and she can't wait to have a big "church wedding". We danced a bit. Ate dry cake. And went home just as it started to pour down raining.

Overall, it was a good day but I will declare that as my first, and last, African wedding. It is a bit too much for me.

Going to the Mosque

Friday I went to the mosque for the first time ever. I recently made a friend named Salma and she invited me and another American, Brandi, to attend mosque with her. I have studied, and taught, a lot about Islam and I find it to be a very respectable religion; however I have never entered a mosque during service and had a first hand experience of the order of service. First things first, I had to cover myself before going to mosque. Which meant I needed to cover my hair, and all my skin down to my ankles and my wrist. It wasn't so bad except that I had to cover in this way in Kenya on what I felt was the hottest day of my visit so far. Then I performed wudu, which is the process of washing the hands, feet and face, before entering the mosque. Cleaniness is a very important aspect of Islam,"For Allah loves those who turn to Him constantly and He loves those who keep themselves pure and clean." (Quran 2:222) and then we crowded into 3 matatu's and went to mosque. The service was nice. Men and women were in separated so I didn't see any men in until we were dismissed. The service was in Swahili so I didn't understand anything. I prayed. I looked at people...a lot. I asked Salma a lot of questions. It all sounded really good...very positive (like most religions aim to be) but I also found it inherently sexist (like most religions are) and dogmatic (like all religions are)...so, of course I had some major disagreements with some of the things I saw and heard (as translated by Salma). But hey, no need for churches or mosques or temples for me. God is Love! The rest is unnecessary.

It's my man's birthday!

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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