The Un-Plan

Be careful what you wish for.

After retiring and going on the trip I'd planned out for a year I suddenly found myself without a place to go. I wanted to go to New Orleans but my internet searches weren't going anywhere ('Volunteer Opps New Oreans' yielded tutoring and 'Habitat' yielded solicitations for money and job openings in the main office).

I mentioned this to my brother Jim and he told me about a flier he saw next to his ATM in Belfast, Maine. It advertised a work trip to Kenya through a group called Expanding Opportunities and that's where it all began.

Arriving in Kenya

For some strange reason, I always have an image in my mind of whatever place I'm going...and it's always wildly wrong. In this case I had a images of Nairobi and the orphanage that were both wildly off base. Nairobi airport was fairly small considering the size of the city. Customs didn't even look at any of my stuff but just waved me through. Outside in the meeting area was a clump of about a hundred people meeting people or hawking services to new arrivals. The person meeting me was far too kind and nice to stand out so I missed him completely even after two passes. We got connected when a taxi service hustled me off to their office and called my ride's cell phone. I was soon to learn why I needed an escort.

Nairobi itself was not the gleaming alabaster city that capitalism and corruption should produce but a smoggy dirty half-fallen-down kind of a place. The first two things I noticed were the exhaust fumes from all the run-down cars and low pollution standards and all the people along the highway walking or occasionally biking since that was all the transportation they could afford. When we stopped for breakfast I was all set to drink from a pitcher of water on the table when David, my escort, stopped me saying it would make me sick. From there is was in to a Matatu or van to take me from Nairobi to Nakuru which is the town closest to the orphanage. They're basically 10 passenger vans that ply the roads everywhere in Kenya. The roads themselves can be pretty rough. Crowded, bumpy, dusty, no lines and slow trucks to try and get around constantly. It can occasionally look like a complete free for all.

The orphanage itself is a wonderful place and not just because I was finally off of those crazy roads. There's a definite feeling of refuge as soon as you walk through the gate. Overall, it's a compound of about half a dozen buildings up on a hill well outside of town. There's very little wood so most of the buildings are made of stone bricks. The children, all boys except for a grand-daughter of the couple who run it, are very sweet. There's a little troop of four year olds who have adopted me and take me around when I don't know my way. Almost all of them have been orphaned by AIDS. Some have even had to bury their own parents.

During the day I've been helping with construction of a very organic two-story outhouse for which I've dubbed the 'Poo Palace' which is what the Fernwood girls call an outhouse when they're faced with doing their business in the woods. I work with three men who hack and the bricks, mix the cement and get everything into place. They're quite skilled and have been lots of fun to work with and have included me quickly conducting much of their conversation in English even though it's not their first language. All Kenyans learn English since there aren't as many textbooks in Swahili but it's a second language for all of them.

I have my own room (which I did not expect) and the bed has a mosquito net for us paranoid foreigners. The food is close enough to what I'm used to that it hasn't been a problem; corn, beans, oatmeal, eggs and lots of tea. It's not paradise. It's not hell. The people are very sweet. The poverty drives people to do some bad stuff occasionally but I find it hard to blame them when something as small as a colored pencil is a treasure. There are no toys, no dessert but every adult (in the orphanage at least) has a cell phone. Karibu (Welcome)

The Orphanage

I guess it just goes with the territory when different cultures try to work together. But I can't help but be amused by some of what goes on at the orphanage. For example, the stick-it-to-the-man through self-sufficiency thing works pretty well. Set up a solar panel and you've got free lights for the grown-ups and 24-7 radio for the teenagers and you've got a lot of happy Africans. Organic gardening, on the other hand, gets mixed reviews. It's always fun to have some new plants but putting poopie on the food gets a mixed reception.
As for fleeing corporate America, this doesn't go over at all. For most Kenyans America is the dream to which they aspir. Strived for, longed for and the destination of pilgrimage. They were even part of the oft-ridiculed 'coalition of the willing' in Iraq. Fleeing evil agri-business? Forget it. Businesses that employ lots of people with good working conditions. Bring it on.

Life as a white person in Kenya has been interesting. The people I see every day are fine with it since white people turn up at the orphanage with some frequency. Among strangers though it can cause a bit of a scene. I was doing work near the fence next to the nursery school next door. Within five minutes I had about 20 pre-schoolers looking up in wonder at the Misunga doing some work. Many of the locals are shocked that Misunga will actually do some work and get his clothes dirty. There's a lot of foot and bicycle traffic on the dirt road that goes by so there's quite a bit of chatter back and forth. Seeing other white people is kind of weird. It takes away your monopoly and I find myself wanting to avoid them. But then again I'm not the most forward about introducing myself so maybe that's not such a big change. It is what it is.

Money Changes Everything

No matter how well prepared you think you are nothing can really prepare you for poverty on this scale and all of the ways it spreads its tentacles into every corner of a society. The quality of facilities, goods and services all get dragged down. People get more aggressive. Theft goes up. If you build up something nice, you have to guard it more jealously making you even more of a target for resentment and theft.

There's little point in getting medical advice when you won't be able to afford
treatment so many don't bother. All forms of abuse go up; spousal abuse, child abuse, substance abuse as people take out their anger and despair on the closest available target. Government officials focus only on making sure they're set for life once their term in office ends making it difficult to make any substantial improvements.

As for assigning blame, there's plenty to go around. Corruption, at all levels of government is the most obvious target. Western countries who have tied loans to lowering trade protections with markets that can't possibly compete is another.

If fixing it were easy, someone would have done it by now. And yet there is hope. Kenya has taken some encouraging steps  over the last few years. Education has always been a high priority and one can't help but get the feeling that the place isn't all that far away from really getting it together. In terms of human capital, Kenya is a wealthy place. If we could only translate it into financial capital, then we'd really be getting places.

Politics Kenyan Style

There's nothing like a third world election.

Trucks with blaring speakers going down the street, complete with running commentary coming from the front seat and a male dancer or two on the back of the truck alongside the speakers.

It's quite a sight.

But at a deeper level, elections reveal a lot about a country. Its recent history, its political maturity, the problems that most need to be solved, the trust or mistrust that the different candidates inspire. It's been interesting to watch both at the local and national level.

The two leading contenders are Kibaki, the sitting president and Raila Odinga. Kibaki is likable but plodding, methodical bureaucratic and not particularly inspiring. Raila is inspiring but often for the wrong reasons pitting poor against rich and doing everything he can to frighten away any kind of investment or capital. Calling all stock traders drug dealers is not exactly Reagonomics.

The other more disturbing tendency is tribalism. Kibaki's tribe is by far the most westernized and prosperous. This has led to resentment and more than a little racism among the other tribes. In a continent with limited resources, taking care of your own is a matter of survival. The downside is that it has often led to violence. Raila is promising decentralization which unfortunately could highlight the tribal tensions as each group fights for greater autonomy and control of their own region. Fortunately, this will require a change in the constitution which is a lengthy process.

The Bush administration is supporting the wrong people, in my opinion, snubbing Kibaki for normalizing relations with Libya and trying to work with the Muslim population which accounts for about 30% of the country. Politics, man.  If it doesn't work at home, try it somewhere else.

Church

There's church...



...and then there's church in Africa.

It's very easy to see from the beginning that it's heartfelt from people who really depend on it for encouragement, solace and just plain keeping it together.  It's also clear that it's pretty much the only entertainment option on Sunday so why rush.  Church members usually start filtering in around 7:00 in the morning for a 10:00 am service and it goes on until 1:00 or so in the afternoon.  The starting point isn't always distinct.  There's lots of singing and loud spontaneous praying and eventually the bigwigs take over and do the readings and commentary.

The Church run by the Pastor who ran the orphanage was a Full Gospel Church.  Knowing nothing about the denomination I just wanted to see what it was like and hopefully get off the hook if it was in another language.  Language was a curious topic in the Full Gospel denomination since the US branch insisted all its members speak in tongues.  The Kenyans basically passed muster since more often than not conducted services in three languages anyway to accommodate their listeners.


The sermon topic the day I went was a scriptural basis for the Last Supper.  Having been raised Catholic it was quite a relief.  They even had a communion service.  For all my trepidations it was all very fun and friendly.  Children would go freely from one lap to the next.  There were enough processions around the church so no one had to sit too long.  It all worked out quite nicely.


My only complaint was with all the wonderful unaccompanied singing, they still insisted on playing a cheesy Casio keyboard complete with cheesy beats.  When the congregation started singing in one key Chege kept playing in a totally different one...for the whole song.  When he told me their keyboard had been stolen he hoped I would pray they got another.  As far as I was concerned, my prayers had been answered.

 

The Matatu

Nothing captures the experience of East Africa quite like
the Matatu. When I first heard Bev refer to it, I thought
she was just showing off her Swahili, weird pronunciation
and all. When I first rode in one I though I had gone to
hell. It was all part of that great smack in the face known
as 'welcome to the third world...you're not in Kansas anymore.'

Let me see if I can describe it for you.
Take a passenger van in the style of a VW bus and built only
slightly more recently. Beat it to death so that it's held
together with chewing gum and duct tape. Smush as many people
into it as you can. Re-wire everything. Give it a driver
who ought to be a bike messenger in NYC. Put it on a two way
road with three lanes and no lines and add a cloud of dust so
that no one can tell whether there's any oncoming traffic or not
but tries to pass anyway and you have the true Matatu experience.
Oh, and this was after the government crackdown!!
I did come to love it after a while and since only a small
percentage of people own cars, it's the transportation method of
choice for most Kenyans.

Not that I was avoiding the whole thing but I did give some time
before taking part. Anything with Full Gospel in front of it I
tend to approach with some caution. It turned out to be kind of
fun.

As a member of Willie Bernstein I learned to embrace musical
disasters. When the singers were warming up the crowd (OK about
50 of us) things went pretty well. When the preacher felt moved
to sing a song in one key and the keyboardist felt moved to play
in another...well, Charles Ives would have been proud.
One of my favorite co-workers is a deacon there. He was also part
of the warm-up section of the service. He managed to keep things
going when the heavy hitters were out back talking to the Lord or
more likely each other on strategy.

Now, to say it was disorganized wouldn't be fair. It's more like
an organized middle and people doing a lot of whatever before and
after. Everything from praying loudly to kids running around,
people wandering in and out at will. Not terribly threatening
especially since most of it was in Swahili. Apparently people
start showing up at 6:00 in the morning for a 10:30 service whose
starting time is approximate at best. We stayed for about three
and a half hours and felt like we were getting of easy. And if
nothing else it was a nicer way to let local kids see a white
person and play with our hair without it getting out of hand.

Menengai Crater Hike

One Sunday, some of the Poo Palace crew and I went for a hike into
the Menengai Crater. Mwangi grew up on the south rim and knew
the territory well. There's a well worn path along the bottom leading
to some caves once used to hike fighters resisting the British and
more recently by bootleggers. On the way out we saw a group of
monkeys looking down at us from the rocks above.

We knew going in that the weather was going to be iffy. The day
started out well with an easy walk up to the road along the south
rim and a bushwack down to the bottom. After lunch the weather
got bad so we bushwacked up to a gap in the headwall and circled
back to Mwangi's house. Unfortunately the rain got quite heavy on
the way out and we had to seek shelter a couple of times to wait out
the rain. One home had to cover its windows to prevent the rain from
coming in so we had to wait in the dark. It was still a nice way to see
a different part of the neighborhood and meet some of Mwangi's childhood neighbors.

Western Kenya

The roads in Kenya are enough of trial. Making a road trip can make you love or hate the place forever...or both. There were a couple of things on the agenda on this trip. First was to check up on a feeding program for street kids in Kericho. Second was to buy some art for resale in the US to help cover administrative expenses for the orphanage. And third was to give me a chance to walk in the woods.

Our choice for a hotel in Kericho was about $10 a night. No TV but for that price and as little as there is to watch I couldn't complain. What did take a little getting used to was a toilet with no toilet seat. Sure enough nature called and I had to perch as best I could. I guess as long as you know what's coming it's not so bad.

Breakfast included inviting 20 or so homeless boys to join us. The place actually came through with enough food quite efficiently which would have to qualify as a miracle in these parts. Something very biblical about the poor being invited to feast. It was Bev, my hostess, at her best.

The art part consisted of visiting a home where teen moms are put to work making crafts and clothes where they can take care of their kids. Infants can hang out. Young children have a nursery school next door. The crafts themselves were quite impressive. If transporting things wasn't such a nuisance there were many more things I thought worth bringing back. We also visited a place that combined physical therapy and craft making for Cerebral Palsy patients. Only one patient so far as I could tell and it was way out in the sticks.

After a much nicer stay in Kakamega I took a foray into a forest park with Chris, a Princeton student who speaks very good swahili. (My swahili only produces laughter and confusion). Although both of us are used to hiking independently, having a guide was the way to go and we took a 2-hour loop through the park. Mostly it was all about the trees and some local education programs but we saw some cool monkeys around the main compound. Altogether, it was interesting but I was quite happy to return to the orphanage, my home away from home.

Mombasa & The Coast

Just so that my visit wouldn't consist entirely of outhouses and concrete, I took a 10-day hiatus with
Chris Simpson to see some of the Indian Ocean coast. To get there we had to go through Nairobi and this time I really got to see the city at its best, a world city and regional capitol and not just 'Nai-robbery'.

Mombasa was very different from all the other cities and towns that I had been in. The city is mostly Muslim, much older and has a substantial Indian population. We visited two different Hindu temples,
tried to visit a Hare Krishna temple and sat down for some Q&A with a local Imam.

Trade in Mombasa goes back to the middle ages. The Portuguese occupied it several times only to have it revert back to the Swahili once their back was turned.
Oman was the other colonizing force prior to that and later the British.

One day while we were in Mombasa we were just trying to get a good view of the city from the tallest building we could find. Chris was trapped in an elevator once so now he avoids them in favor of climbing the stairs. When we got the 12th floor we happened to spot the Tanzanian consulate. They asked if we were there for our visas. We weren't but since we planned to go we said "...yes we are" The Trade Attache spent a whole hour helping us plan our trip. What we didn't know at the time was that the price of a visa had doubled and the Attache charged us the old price. For the time being anyway we were very pleased with our good fortune.


Probably the most welcome sights in Mombasa, apart from the lovely old buildings and the various places of worship was the ocean. I don't think of myself as much of a beach person since I never tan and don't like to sit still. But there was something wonderful and relaxing about the coast. Nairobi has all the stress of being a major city. The countryside has all the stresses of poverty. The ocean has a way of helping everyone relax

Tanzania & Zanzibar

It's just wouldn't be East Africa without something strange and unforeseen happening. Some of the troubles were of our own making. Some were clearly the fault of others. And some were just plain unclassifiable.

Our first hint that things were amiss came at the Tanzanian border when they said we owed another $50 US. We told them that we had dealt directly with the Trade Attache and after a phone call they let us through. However, when we got to Zanzibar two days later, it all hit the fan with their border
people. This despite Zanzibar being part of Tanzania. It took all of Chris' negotiating skills, knowledge of Swahili and more than a little arm waving to get us in at a discount. The bus out of Mombasa couldn't make up their mind whether we were supposed to get out of the bus to ride the ferry across the harbor. The ferry to Zanzibar was a little on the choppy side. And our flight out wouldn't take payment in anything but dollars at the airport. Wouldn't take payment at all the day before at the agent in Zanzibar. Chris had to once again pull out all the stops just to get us on a flight that had both our names on it.

Despite all of that, Tanzania was great. Once we got past the street hawkers, the people in Tanga were just as nice as could be. Dar was every bit the world class city without the rampant theft of Nairobi. A bustling downtown, lots of traffic and stores full of interesting stuff.

Zanzibar was even more amazing. After the fiasco at the border, the main village, Stone Town, was an absolute delight. Most of the streets are very narrow, only permitting bicycles and scooters. But there are all kinds of cool little shops tucked away in all sorts of tight places. What really blew both of us away about Zanzibar was the art. Some of it was museum quality work and even the stuff that wasn't was darn good. There's enough tourist traffic that the prices are higher than elsewhere. Even so, Zanzibar is one good shipping company away from being a major place to get good art.

The final treat was getting to see Kilimanjaro from the air, poking through the cirrus clouds at over 20,000 feet.  It was a majestic sight. And almost enough to make us forget about the hassle of making sure we got on the flight at all.