Selling Eggs to Buy Bread

I’ve wanted to share a bit about the Development field for awhile – but as it currently represents everything I’m studying, it’s hard to know where to start. I can say that in most ways, my perception and understanding of Development is changing everyday, as it is truly a discipline that carries a multitude of dimensions and perspectives. Unfortunately, or fortunately, it’s also an industry here – so on top of the theoretical and historical aspects I’m studying, there is the practicum I see around me. The sad reality is that what in my perspective is a discipline that should be rooted in sustainability and the external focus of aiding nations in need, is often turned into a for-profit machine that employs loads (many foreigners), while directly contributing to some of the challenges facing local people. I met my friend Attem the other night and he was telling me about the high cost of living in Southern Sudan. After quoting some prices, I asked who was supporting that level of living – who could afford to pay those prices and thus enable the market to keep them that high? “Well, there are a lot of NGO’s there,” he said. So, you’ve got a lot of NGO’s on the ground with a variety of goals that we can assume boil down to HELP SUDAN, and their mere presence is making it hard for local people to afford basic needs.

In one of my first classes here, we were introducing ourselves and a classmate said he worked for a NGO that was focused on poverty alleviation. My professor asked, “So you get a job out of it, what do the people you’re helping get?” I come back to this question over and over as I reflect on my reason for being here and my long-term goals. Development work, in so many ways, can never truly be altruistic – the “developer” needs the country in need to advance for a number of reasons. On an international scale, we all benefit if others advance and become producers of goods we want/need, and consumers of goods we have. There do become reasons why certain countries advancement and development become problematic – it is infinitely easier to exploit natural resources from a country with no infrastructure or stable government. It has also become obvious that whatever developed nations’ goals are for aiding the developing world, the theory and political ideology that guides the assistance offered can have horrendous consequences on the natural course of development that might be taking place.

In post-colonial Kenya, the country was doing quite well in the 60’s and early 70’s – at one point 95% of children were enrolled in school, industrialization was in place and the country had a solid export industry and access to international markets for coffee, tea and other products. Following the oil crisis in ’73, progress was stymied and Kenya got swept up with the rest of Sub Saharan Africa in low-interest borrowing when the commodity market fell apart. When the global economy started to recover and the interest rates started to rise, Kenya and other SSA countries shifted their focus from industrialization and programs focused on bringing equity to their populace, to straight debt management. The U.S. and Britain guided the World Bank and IMF in providing public loans to relieve the private sector of this debt burden, but they came with contingencies that ultimately reversed years of growth in Kenya by requiring the government to pull out of the market and social programs completely in favor of Neo Liberal, market-driven economics. Close to thirty years after these structural adjustment programs were implemented, Kenya is just starting to see the same levels of children enrolled in school, carries somewhere between a 50-60% unemployment rate and as we saw last January, has a long way to go in terms of democracy. What started as a developing sprint has turned into a marathon, with what was intended to be a paved road turned to a fragmented cobblestone street with gaping potholes along the way.

My housemate Megan has been in Kenya for eight years and has worked on a variety of poverty alleviation programs. I trust her work more than many of the ex-pats I come across who know very few Kenyans, live in posh compounds and guide their work based on studies rather than interactions or involvement in the community they’re attempting to aid. After working with street children when she first came, Megan has a network of people who come to her for help, and we never know who we might find washing dishes or cleaning floors in our home in exchange for a day’s wage or some food staples. For the last month a young man named Labon has been here once a week or so, and I always appreciate his big smile and hard work. His family lives in Kibera and Megan has acknowledged that his mother and brother are not trustworthy (his brother’s not allowed in the house), but if Labon comes and works she will send him home with food. When she told me this I acknowledged that Labon just seems to have a good heart – and certainly a good work ethic. Then last week I noticed that a favorite necklace of mine that I “borrowed” from my mom last year wasn’t hanging in the downstairs bathroom where it usually is. It’s the only necklace I’ve kept out of my room because I know Megan likes to borrow it. It’s on a gold chain and it’s a large leaf that’s covered in gold plate. When I asked the staff about it, it became clear at some point that Labon had taken it and given it to his brother to sell. While it’s startling to have something taken from inside your own home, it’s more startling when someone who you’d personally assessed to be a good guy takes it. The whole thing got me thinking – here’s a kid who is at our house working because his family cannot afford food – but the glitter of gold overrode the good relationship he has with us in favor of a quick fix and the need for cold hard cash.

This feels like the state of development as a whole – there are entire countries whose populace face food insecurity and lack of basic needs, but their leaders succumb to the draw of wealth and quick fixes offered by exploitative industries or less-than altruistic government assistance. Rather than looking at the security and needs of the nation as a whole, or taking the time to establish policies that ensure all people benefit as growth occurs, Developing nations tend to follow the paths of those of us already industrialized – resulting in a wide gap between the haves and have-nots, and a massive contrast between the luxury car of a big city exec and the blistered feet of a rural farmer. When you think about it, who can blame them? It’s humanity acting as humanity does – so I suppose I come back to, how do we change these trends while we still have the chance? Being in Kenya right now I can see that there are opportunities all around to make choices that will benefit all of Kenya – not just those with the education, resources or connections to advance. I hope I continue to learn, and in someway contribute, to this as a goal.

"Hi, I'm Joe and I'll be your personal thief today."

The past couple of weeks have felt like a real whirlwind. I'm not yet at the end of my semester but we are knee deep in term papers. I'm finding that juggling a variety of topics, tracking down resources, making my other meetings and all in absence of reliable transport or internet can be thoroughly and bone-achingly exhausting. It's been a great time - some productive meetings and introductions, the start of feeling like I'm regaining my academic sea legs and the awe of the stories and opportunity for self-assessment I come across every day. My next post will be some long-overdue thoughts on Development (since prior to coming the biggest question I got was, "what are Development studies anyway?"), but for now I think I'll just share how easy it is for your day to get completely re-worked here before it's even begun, and how with every set back there is somehow an opportunity for humor. In other words, you have to laugh or you'd cry...

My housemate Angeline and I were heading to town yesterday for a Rotary event and various school errands. We hopped on a crowded bus - the first time since I've arrived that the conductor allowed entrance when there weren't enough seats. We both stood for a few moments and then Ang was ushered to the very back and crammed in to the far corner seat in the last row. I was starting to realize that we were on a completley different route than usual, but was more interested in the darling baby making eyes at me while I clung to the overhead railing. The bus paused, a guy squeezed past me and I headed back to take the now empty seat next to Ang. I caught her eye and recognized complete fear as she gasped, "My wallet!" Appropriate chaos ensued as I attempted to get the bus to stop immediately, further aware of how I had no idea where we actually were or where we had stopped to let the guy off, let alone what he looked like. I threw 50 shillings at the conductor and hopped off - followed by Ang and a concerned lady who exclaimed "I knew he was stealing!" Apparently she didn't want to risk being wrong and rudely accusing him.

Wonder of wonders we alighted across from the CID (Kenya pseudo-special police forces) office, and with our good samaritan Mary in tow, quickly gathered a crowd of plain clothes policemen around us. We found ourselves jumping into a taxi and wandering up the street in pursuit of the thief. The fact that I had not seen him, had only just figured out where we were and Ang was in total shock, did not help our meandering around in the hopes of seeing him. We returned to the station and it was recommended we go to the Kilimani police station to file a report. News to us as we thought we were at a police station. Further news to us when we discovered that the group around us was only half policemen, and the others bumming cigarettes from a distraught Angeline were just local business men (I imagine on official "business" meeeting the local police). After exchanging pleasantries and business cards (never a lack of opportunity for networking here) we were escorted by a recommended cab driver, Lanson, to the police station. Ang did her best to share the information of what was stolen, and filled out a police abstract (at a charge of 50 shillings - all sorts of requests were made that failed to reflect the loss of all funds and phone had she been alone) and then we headed off to track down the Irish Consulate and report her passport stolen.

I should note that immediately after the pick pocketing I sent a text to Ang's phone imploring the thief to return the documents - he could keep the money (about $100 U.S. she was carrying for books) and the phone - but could we get her passport and cards back? Well...upon arriving at the Police station I received a text asking me how well I knew town. I responded with some suggested locations, and indicated we could pick docs up anywhere at anytime.

Fastforward through close to an hour sitting in the blistering sun and traffic on Mombasa road (where for all extents and purposes it looks like people basically just wait there turn to run into each other - we passed three accidents at a snails pace) and the journey to the Irish Consulate. Apparently the Kenyan Embassy in Ireland has a prime piece of real estate - the Irish Consulate in Kenya is far flung from town and shares office space with a local tile company. It is also only open from 8:30 to 12:30, and we arrived at close to 3. After threatening to storm through the metal gate to attain her rights as an Irish citizen, the guard finally agreed to let us in (he'd previously suggested we call the staff sitting roughly 20 feet away inside. Again, Ang's cell phone and all resources having just been stolen seeming to escape the situation - and my credit was dwindling to nothing following frantic texts to Ireland to cancel cards).

We managed to meet with the local, non-Irish consulate staff, who was thoroughly unhelpful in her attempts to help Ang (we did learn a new passport would cost her close to a hundred euros), and then headed back home where we both passed out, entirely defeated by the day. I awoke about 30 minutes later to a text from the thief, indicating he would drop the documents in a waste bin at a cinema in town. I quickly called Lanson who'd indicated he'd be happy to help, and he headed to the cinema. The thief then began texting me the exact location of the docs, along with requests for a formal "thank you" over text for his returning of the documents. Over the next hour I text, talk and respond to the thief, and then put Lanson in touch with him when he finds the documents have been removed by someone who saw the thief drop them. It takes a 1000 shillings to get them back, and I am getting nararation from the thief, who is clearly watching, by text message the entire time.

Lanson comes to our house with the passport, credit cards and online banking info, and in the meantime the thief sends me a text asking if we need any important phone numbers from the phone. Seriously - this is full service robbery! Ang and I practically die laughing at the absurdity of it all, then send him some names and he sends the numbers back promptly. I then receive the following, "Ur taxi man is greedy. He didnt part with 1000 i was there but he didnt saw me he just took the doc. Otherwise we are not same its only that i got some feelin 4 u but i stole from u that mean i could not face you n say something good 2 u. Gudnite." (We decided to trust Lanson over the guy who pickpocketed Ang). I also received another request for a thank you text.

A few minutes later, I receive the following from him, "R u manchester united fan if u r ROY KEANE is our man."

Still later, "Is their any pickpockets at your country i can make alot of money i'm sure of that."

Then, "You want a black guy maybe we can have another obama."

YOU JUST STOLE HUNDREDS OF DOLLARS WORTH OF MY FRIEND'S STUFF JACK*&S!!!

Finally, "Do u take kenya beer kesho (tomorrow) I buy u one n if yes say where."

So there you have it, we managed to get Ang's documents returned, I befriended a thief and if I want I could have a date with him tonight. If we didn't stick out here so much I'd bring a policeman along with me, but I think I'll just leave the situation as it is - our luck at getting the docs back is fairly incredible and I just have to believe that the whole thing could only happen here.*

*FYI, I KID YOU NOT I just received the following text from him: "Hey baby gal i have missed u can we meet somewhere in town or what you say" He is also asking me what kind of jobs I came to create as I had sent a message yesterday (after he'd told us we should watch after our stuff better - imagine!) saying I was here to create jobs so people didn't have to steal to support themselves. Good grief.

Week in numbers and photo links :)

6: Mosquitos I counted INSIDE my mosquito net this morning
80: Gifts delivered to Red Rose elementary kids on Friday
1.23 million (ok I don't know but a lot): Bacteria residing in my stomach following traditional goat boil last Wednesday
3: Papers I need to finish by Friday in order to go camping in Naivasha this weekend!!! (following unproductive weekend due to above-mentioned bacterial condition...)

So ya, apparently two months is a pretty standard time in which some local bug gets you. My friend Sufia says she thinks it's the adrenaline you have when you first arrive that helps boost your immune system, because everyone she knows has succumbed to something or other right around the two month mark. My guardian angels intervened and let me get through the week (there were minor indicators starting Wednesday night) so I could attend a really neat meeting in Buru Buru with a local fair trade group who has registered on World of Good already (I presented the marketplace at a meeting about three weeks ago) and needed some guidance getting their inventory and shipping issues worked out. I also got to attend and play Santa Claus at the Red Rose Elementary Christmas party on Friday - which in true Red Rose fashion was a seriously wonderful and fun experience. I was joined by one of the few international students I've met at U of Nairobi, Lars (he's an undergrad taking six courses of some sort from Germany) and some Kenyan Rotoract friends Rosemary and Evans, who also helped me wrap the goodie bags we brought for the kids. I still haven't sorted out internet so I'll direct you to the Red Rose site to see the albums and I'm sure many unflattering pictures - but hopefully you can tell what a treat it was that my food poisoning held off until approximately two hours after the party concluded. See the blog post and links to the photo albums here. Talk about the Christmas spirit - these kids just might carry me through my first Christmas away from home.

After the party I came and laid down for a nap, thinking four hours of dancing with 3-9 year olds had taken its toll. I woke up achey from head to toe, and with a fever that would grow through the night. The stomach problems didn't really start until the next day, but suffice it to say I didn't really leave my bed (let alone the house) until this morning when I went to the doctor for a rehydrating IV drip. Wow - talk about feeling better - I wish I could keep one of those in my closet! So I've survived my first Kenyan food poisoning and while the heat in this cyber cafe is threatening to undo all the good of this morning's drip I should be back in class tomorrow or Wednesday. The truly tragic thing about this all is that I appear to have lost any desire for goat meat, which I really, really liked.

Contact Details

So I can't figure out how to post this permanently on my blog - but for those who have asked and lovingly suggested they will send letters/small packages upon receipt of this information, here's my PO Box:

Megan MacDonald c/o Margaret White
PO Box 73405-00200
Nairobi, Kenya

My phone number is: +254(0)734 715 780 - if you're in Nairobi start with the zero, if you're in the states, leave the zero out.

Unfortunately, nothing of "value" should be sent by mail as it can be assessed a random tax amount based on the perceived value according to the customs agent that opens it (ya, it gets opened). My roommate once had to pay tax on a bar of soap. But a friend who studied here last year said small packages (the size of a VHS or smaller) don't tend to cause much upset - and things like burned CDs/DVDs, small food stuff/goodies etc. shouldn't be a problem. Or, anything that looks previously owned/used tends to get by. Fortunately for me - there's nothing more valuable than a hand-written note from home!

I'll post this on the blog permanently when I figure out how - but in the meantime, there ya go!

Also - since this post is in response to the general awesomeness of friends and family requesting it, I need to acknowledge how wonderful my friends have been in supporting my mom post-surgery since I can't be there. From sending cards and emails to visiting in person - it means the world to me and I am SO lucky to have you guys.

xo,

megs

TGIF

Par for the course in a constant stream of amazement, today was more or less like any other day in my life here. In some ways, it was totally exhausting – I was going to the UN Environmental Program library (UNEP) to try and find materials for my upcoming term papers, and needed to take two matatus to get there. For those who are still unclear about the matatu system, this blog has included Lonely Planet's "Guide to surviving a matatu." I was thinking the other day of how to convey just how rattling it is relying on a public transport system that’s based on independent contractors whose take-home pay depends on how many passengers and routes they can get in during the course of the day (rather than a scheduled time table). Every time you go to catch a bus or matatu, it is at a frantic pace in which any baggy clothing or hanging bags/jewelry can be a downright threat to your safety (or it’s own existence if God forbid you drop something) as you scramble into extremely cramped seats. My book bag has likely done more damage to others than it’s experienced itself as I make my way down narrow rows that barely accommodate my curves, let alone whatever books I am carting around on a given day.

After two sets of directions and a walk across the part of town where I am the only muzungu* I see (and where in my second week I had a guy punch me in the neck trying to grab the gold cross I’d stupidly worn for my first day of school), I found my second matatu. I should note that matatu conductors are notorious for tricking passengers as matatus won’t leave a stage until they are full, but they are highly skilled at getting people into an empty one with promises of “leaving right now right now right now boss/madam. Rrrrrrright now.” Today, however, both of the collectors I had went out of their way to get me to where I needed to be as I’d never been to either place before. One actually got me out of the matatu while we were stopped in a traffic jam and tried to get me into another that would take me to the next stage, but it didn’t work out so we hopped back into the first one as everyone started to move. I finally arrived at the UNEP stage and after passing through security found myself in one of the most pristine complexes I’ve been in since arriving. I guess if you’re interested in international anything, the UN just has an aura of magic around it, and I was a bit giddy as I wandered the complex, passing foreign dignitaries in their national dress (the Nigerians are just stunning) and an incredible diversity of staff. I spent a couple of hours at the library, very excited about the… BOOKS!...and an online database that directed me to…BOOKS!...that were actually on the shelves…in order! And then, as if the heavens wanted to smile on me, a photocopier that I get to use for FREE. Seriously – this is a grad student in a developing country’s dream. Oh, and fast internet, that I wasn’t supposed to use for email, but that let me get some pictures sent home before I found out the rules.

After checking out some books under a friend’s name (she is running the UN Billion Tree campaign – check it out!) we headed for lunch in a lovely dining area with four different vendors that felt like I was back at eBay or in the midst of any major American corporate campus. Part of why today was so fun was because I heard from a number of random friends I’ve met in town, on the bus or out and about and I ended up having two lunches (second lunch being second only to second breakfast). I was invited for Nyama Choma by a guy I’ve bought kangas from, for Ethiopian by a native son that I met on the bus last week, for coffee by the Sudanese friend I mentioned in a previous post, for lunch by my friend Esteban who I met my first week here when I realized he spoke Spanish (he’s an attaché for the Mexican embassy - when you're surrounded by a language you don't speak it's very gratifying finding someone who speaks the second language you keep attempting to communicate with) and finally, for pizza (it’s 2x1 Friday!) by Sanjay, my trustee mobile phone dealer. I decided to visit Sanjay as he was closest to my bus home and after enjoying some veggie pizza (ham and pineapple) I finally had the chance to visit his house and meet his 28 day daughter and his first born daughter who is about 15 months. This entailed yet another walk across town, this time in a different direction that gave me my first view of one of the dumps right outside of city center. It’s amazing how a few blocks in any direction can place you in a completely new arena. When we got to Sanjay’s apartment the courtyard was filled with Indian women in saris, seated on the ground sifting what looked like corn. I was amazed to have touched down in the midst of such a different community than I’ve been exposed to here.

After, I trekked back through the city, passing two traditionally dressed samburu (I think!) men, their colorful red fabric, beads and leather gladiator-like sandals snapping me out of grays and browns of the dirt, dust and exhaust that I tend to notice only when I’m tired and walking on sore feet. I had to walk a long way to a bus stop as it was too late to catch my bus where I normally do (all full) but I enjoyed the walk accompanied by the sounds of the new ipod shuffle my parents sent me (thanks guys!) as an early Christmas present. My days here rarely turn out as I plan (I was supposed to spend all afternoon at a coffee shop doing reading) but I find great joy in letting go of expectations, even if it’s challenging to juggle all the opportunities that present themselves socially, educationally, Rotary-related and work wise with matatu commutes and navigating down town by foot. But of course, it's half the fun!

*Muzungu means ‘white person,’ though not in a derogatory way. You’d be surprised at how friendly it sounds when someone exclaims “muzungu!” when you walk by and catch them by surprise ☺

Overdue

I've been waiting to blog until my internet at home was up, which was supposed to happen a week ago today. As of today, still no word on whether the problem that delayed it has been fixed. When you depend on internet for all your communications (phone calls are quite expensive here - so not only am I trying to keep in good touch with home, but all the various projects I'm working on are heavily conducted via emails and outreach), it's very challenging not having easy access to it. Anyway - all complaints aside, let me offer a few updates as things have been very busy and exciting. School is definitely picking up, but I'm also making some great progress on craft-group outreach and linkages with the U.S. (transport challenges second only to lack of internet!) and have started my Rotary presentations which have been great experiences as well. In a nutshell:

• Two weeks ago I attended my roommate's (Megan White) official launch for the non-profit she's started called Zanna. Zanna means "tools" in Kiswahili and the organization is focused on coordinating the effort to provide sanitary pads to school girls throughout Kenya. Would you believe that 3.5 million school days are missed PER MONTH because girls cannot afford pads? The mildest result is staying home from school, the more extreme is literal prostitution in order to pay for something that I know most of us take for complete granted. Zanna is working with the Ministry of Education to coordinate outreach efforts and a comprehensive program to ensure girls can stay in school - translating to higher graduation rates, lower pregnancy rates and all around brighter futures. Zanna is also working on designing and manufacturing eco-friendly and locally produced pads - responding to the need for both feminine products and jobs.
• I was introduced to Hannington Odame, Executive Director of CABE, which is a newish non-profit focused on technology advancements in agriculture in the hopes of creating jobs for youth who are looking to use their education and desire to innovate in one of Kenya's most important industries. Hannington and I have met a few times in the past couple of weeks and I am now officially a Research Associate in charge of Global Partnerships, helping the organization to find partners and funding to build on their expertise and program ideas. I'll share more about this soon as I have a feeling that some of you will have ideas or suggestions for this organization.
• I'm trying to keep my ears and mind open as I go about day to day life, and this often results in meeting fascinating people. I recently took a short bus ride with a young man from Sudan, who later shared his life story with me over email, offering insight into Sudanese history (this too I'll have to elaborate on in the future). I am fascinated with Sudan right now as they have many untapped natural resources that they are aggressively looking for foreign investment in. How this investment is sought and acquired is likely to determine whether Sudan follows the brutal process that so many other resource-rich African countries have (especially evident in Congo right now). I feel like I am watching history.
• I spoke to my first Rotary club (I've attended a number of meetings but this was my first speech) two Thursdays ago. I wasn't sure if my story about cultural sensitivity would go over well (it was about a time when I was 13 staying with a family in Taiwan and the father passed gas excessively throughout the duration of our first dinner there, and we had to try not to laugh) but it was a big hit. Of course the following week when I attended the meeting as a guest, I was asked by nearly everyone if I've managed to shake the habits I picked up in Taiwan.
• I was supposed to visit a women's group in Nanyuki this past weekend to work on exploring product creation for Rising International, but my ride fell through. I'm going to attempt to get there this week on public transport - more news about that in future updates.

I'd like to thank everyone who continues to write and encourage me. This week was tough as my mom had her (successful!) back surgery and all I could do was sit and pray and wait for the phone to ring. I am sorry for those who are awaiting emails from me - I am working on juggling it all and it is so important for me to share my life here and hear about all that's going on at home. I write notes all the time about blog posts and then weeks go by and I realize I haven't shared half of what I'd like to.

I'll sign off with this story as it made me giggle and realize how all things are relative. In class recently we were talking about Newton's discovery of gravity, and the story that is told to explain it. One of my classmate's related it as such, "He was sitting under a tree, and a mango fell on his head."

Keeping my ears open

To make up for a day spent in a high-up classroom trudging through a cross-discipline mash-up of theorists and confronting just how little I know, the end of my day rewards me with the rich sounds of downtown Nairobi. On my walk to the bus stop I pass a woman in slightly muted but still colorful kangas, shaking a maraca-like rhythm instrument and singing songs I wish I understood from her now familiar spot. Today she hits a cadence higher than normal and so beautiful it makes me stop for a moment, wishing my bulky bag was easier to maneuver so I might offer her some change.

A block further I hear one of the local mosque's familiar call to afternoon prayer, then a bit of conversation about the sister of the woman to my left. Crossing the street I am surprised to see the crossing light is actually green – a few days ago I caught myself subconsciously walking to the crosswalk before I corrected myself with a reminder that there’s really no need for such formality – in Kenya you just cross (sometimes in a sprint) wherever the traffic offers a bit of respite (or you can at least make eye contact with the drivers coming your way).

I walk alongside the barrier in front of the post office that separates the passengers from the buses we are attempting to load. I listen for the call of the #46, which in full is “Hurlingham, Ya Ya Center, Kangweri,” but sounds like “Hurlingyakangweri, kangweri kangweri!” It’s really only perceptible in auditory hindsight. Before we leave another driver approaches our driver to ask him to move forward, calling out a friendly, “Hey, boss” to get his attention.

We wait for the bus to fill then the engine revs and we lurch forward, passing through the puddle-filled roundabout as the ticket lady starts to collect our change. She issues our tickets with a quick crank of the ancient metal machine she wears over one shoulder. As we climb Valley Road we take the sounds of downtown Nairobi's car horns with us in the direction of the setting sun.