Back in the OC

Last Thursday I had the opportunity to present my "final" presentation to the Rotary Club who made this past year possible for me. I am so thankful for this club - for the encouragement they provide, the amazing energy the members have, the various projects they are doing on their own throughout our local community and Africa as a whole, and the support they have given me and are likely to continue for my own work. Here are the comments I offered this club - along with my profound thanks for fulfilling last year's Rotary of "Making Dreams Real" - the sure made mine! I'll post more pics when I get them - the pic above is with club member Ron Lacey who along with a handful of other Rotarians made my scholarship year that much more personal.

August 27, 2009 Rotary Presentation

Somewhere around a year ago I had the opportunity to visit you all and share my history and my hopes for my scholarship year. I shared the recent process I’d gone through to reorient my path and pursue work in the international arena, and how for me this translates to the collecting of stories and experiences that must be shared in pursuit of the goal that this scholarship embodies – to foster a global community and enhance international understanding.

Your club has played a paramount role in allowing me to take that many more steps along this path, and for that I must first offer my profound and deepest thanks. Your support, example and enthusiasm for the goodwill of Rotary and the opportunities it has extended to us all has been an inspiration and encouragement to me throughout. I have especially appreciated the opportunity to get to know a few individual Rotarians (some of whom I did not meet in person until today!) including Bob McCauley, Char Martin, Ron Lacey, Dr. Stephenson, Bill Courdes and of course Mike and Jean Abdalla who all provided special support throughout the year.

So let me tell you about it!

I know a number of people in this room have been to Africa – has anyone been to Kenya? It’s a fascinating place, one in which you are likely to have had some very different experiences depending on the point in history in which you were there. I recently met a gentleman who visited in the 70’s, who talked about how impressive the country was – so modern, so on the up and up. As I learned and lived as a student of development studies, sadly, the 80’s painted a very different story for Kenya – in part due to the international oil crisis of the 70’s, in part due to the expansion of international trade and lop-sided trade statutes, and perhaps most significantly due to the massive loans our country led the way in offering – loans that came with conditions that effectively halted the social progress Kenya had been making to that point. It has been humbling to learn the specifics of the role my country has played in suppressing the development of another (and this, by no means, is the sole reason for which Kenya continues to struggle, but it is a prominent one), and it made it that much more significant to be serving as a Rotary scholar – as an ambassador for the U.S. to share my joint hopes and dreams for the country to get itself back on track.

Let me first say that because I hoped to be in the country for two years, I tried to spend the year simply observing and taking it in – not passing judgment or trying to fix things per se. I can say, that after doing just that this year, the country has a long way to go. Kenya was recently ranked the most corrupt nation in all of East Africa – and corruption permeates the day to day operations of the country – both on a local and national level. But when I would confront these things, or when my studies would focus for too long on the challenges – I would look to my classmates for inspiration and the courage to believe that someday the country will once again chart its course for the good of all Kenyans.

So let me tell you a bit about my classmates! There are nine of us in the 2010 IDS M.A. program. We meet on the 5^th floor of the Mahatma Ghandi building on the main campus of University of Nairobi. I should mention that I’ve taken a fairly untraditional route – of the 40,000 or so Nairobi students spread amongst roughly 5 campuses, I believe I am one of about 5 non-African international students (I’ve only met three others). I am affirmatively in the minority and stand out like I’ve never quite experienced before! It’s been a unique experience – something I think very few of my peers or many in my community will ever truly experience – being an “other” on such a scale, and in such an obvious way.

Back to my classmates – in the group of nine there are five women and four men ranging in ages from around 24 to roughly 36. Of Kenya’s forty or so indigenous ethnic groups, there are at least 7 present – from Luya and Meru to kamba and the biggest group in Kenya which is Kikuyu. A few recently finished their B.A.s and started their M.A. straight away (I should mention that education is of paramount value in Kenya with an extremely high percentage of the population getting Masters degrees – many of whom do so abroad and have shown in studies to outperform all other ethnic groups in the U.S.), while others have worked in the fields of politics, economics, healthcare and youth services. They are an inspiring bunch – some clearly in school simply for the job opportunities the degree will present, others with hopes of once and for all changing the trajectory of the country and promoting a more equitable and socially just land.

As I mentioned before, one’s impression of

Kenya might be very different depending on the time in which you visited it – but one thing that won’t change is the people – the threads of a Kenyan culture that transcend the tribalism that continues to rear its ugly head in the promotion of differences. Tribalism allows politicians to manipulate the masses into thinking that it’s impossible for all Kenyans to be afforded the same opportunities – thus they are willing to fight for the sake of protecting their own – at the worst times (as in late 2007), to the death. But on a day to day level to be Kenyan means to warmly welcome any outsider, to be fascinated with the goings on of the world and one’s country – I was so inspired by the young people (and everyone else for that matter!) who read the paper thoroughly each day, who often knew more about what was going on in the U.S. than I did as I struggled to adjust to life away from the news headlines I’m used to reading throughout the day online at work.

We need more of this – more focus on what it means to be Kenyan. And this is where I find one of the most valuable lessons of my year as an ambassadorial scholar and the opportunity to take what I learned and bring it back with me to my own country. I have found that I never understand more profoundly how deeply blessed I am to have been born in this country and afforded the opportunities it presents than when I am abroad. This is not because being abroad I see countries whose problems are so much worse than our own – but rather I see problems that simply reflect the very human struggles we all share to live side by side, manage collective resources and empower all to live life to the fullest. While there are many things I found myself thankful for during the year as an American, I also saw that each issue I confronted in the Kenyan economy, government and society I could find in some form in my own country. Perhaps most importantly – the failure on all our parts to recognize our collective similarities, before we break each other down with our differences and opinions. In Kenya, a place now dear to my heart, such divisions resulted in over a thousand lost lives at the beginning of last year, and many people believe that the election of 2012 could be worse. One bright spot in the midst of the country’s recovery following their own elections that must be mentioned, regardless of the political demographics in this room, is the absolute joy and pride that all Kenyans experienced upon the election of Barack Obama. Seeing people of different political opinions, ethnic groups and backgrounds all rejoice in our country’s decision gave me hope that someday they will collectively identify a leader of their own who will once and for all end the corruption and grow the country so that all people can benefit from a vibrant economy and the opportunities it presents.

I’d like to share some specific experiences by way of my slideshow now, and I encourage you all if you have a moment to check out my final report (well, a version of it – I failed to save the final version I submitted via fax!) to learn more about some of the specific experiences I had and how I did my best to mobilize the support you provided for the sake of those around me. I want to especially thank you for the donations you raised that allowed me to cover the hospital costs of my night guard’s child – I wish I could convey the joy, relief and excitement I felt when I received emails from Char, Bob and I believe Ron telling me about your outpouring. I would also like to report that the additional funds you raised have been distributed - $50 to Kibera Girl’s soccer academy that works with at-risk girls in Africa’s biggest slum (about 15 minutes from my house) to get the education they so desperately desire, $25 to a dear friend whose story I hope to share with you if time permits to re-enroll her young nephew in school after his parents were unable to pay school fees and around $125 which was given as a loan to a struggling youth project that creates beaded bracelets with logos and slogans (great to keep in mind for any of your fundraisers, businesses or school!) and needed to get a website running to keep afloat. That money will be reinvested in similar projects so you can be confident that though my year as a scholar has come to a close, I will continue to spread the generosity you have extended to me and through me as I return. And of course, my involvement with Rotary does not end here!

Home.

I'm sorry for the great delay between my last post and this one. Much has happened - I finished my first year of grad school, welcomed my parents and our friend Joy to my adopted home and embarked on a true safari with them. I want to share something I wrote to be read to ambassadorial scholarship applicants for the 2010-2011 school year (since I couldn't be there in person). I have also posted some recent pictures from our safari at my smugmug site here, and am working on catching up on many past-due photos as well. I am in the Bay Area working with eBay on WorldofGood.com until October 3rd, when I will return to Nairobi (via Istanbul where I'll do a week stopover!) to start my final year at University of Nairobi. Thank you for sharing this journey with me, and for all the support that I have received. My attempt to put the experience into words that follows, is just that - an attempt. Words, as much as I love them, will never do it justice.

"I’ve spent my scholarship year in Kenya where I’m pursuing a M.A. in Development Studies, and savoring every moment of an experience that has truly encapsulated the current Rotary theme of “Make Dreams Real.” Having an organization like Rotary recognize your goals and aspirations and extend the support they do is as great a gift there is. I know each of you have unique and incredible ambitions and aspirations, and whether you get this scholarship or not, I’m confident you’ll find ways to pursue them.

As for myself, these are the things I find myself treasuring as I near the end of my scholarship year abroad. These are things that I know come only from this sort of experience, from an investment in time and exploration in a country so far from home.

They are:
• The Kiswahili words that now flow easily from my mouth, but that will have no meaning to friends and family when I return home.
• The foods that I now crave with afternoon tea (heck, afternoon tea!) that I know I won’t find when I return home.
• The subtle cultural nuances I’m still learning to adjust to and accommodate in my daily commute, or when I enter a room here for the first time.
• The inner struggles to acclimate to a different set of norms while at the same time staying true to my own comfort zone and interests.
• The opportunity to present myself as a foreigner, as an American and as a citizen of the world in a way that those I interact with in my new home may have never seen or understood before.
• The equal opportunity to see in them something different than I may have expected.
• The appreciation and final acceptance of utter and complete differences sometimes small and other times incomprehensibly big.
• And finally, the realization that always hits me at the oddest of times: In the end, the culmination of such differences in culture, location, interests and day to day reality are in fact all actually subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) reminders of the sameness that binds us all together as humans.

In closing, I’d like to make a special acknowledgment of how much richer this experience of studying abroad has been simply because it has introduced me to the Rotary family. I knew little of Rotary before I applied but I cannot imagine how different this experience would be if I did not have the many Rotary clubs and local Rotarians (not to mention support from Rotarians at home) accompanying my journey. I have been afforded intimate access to all walks of life in Kenya, exposure to major leaders and a first hand glimpse of how the local community is tackling the development problems I’m studying."













The boys from the home I've visited many times in Nakuru in the sweatshirts and clothes my friend Heather and her co-workers donated - thank you everyone!


My dad celebrated his 80th birthday in Kenya! What a gift to share this trip with him.

More pictures available here.

On the inside

Have you seen The Constant Gardener? Do you remember the rolling sprawl of rusted tin roofs in Kibera? Did the movie capture the fractured earth, the plastic bag-choked bits of green amidst the ever-present brown?

I went to Kibera for the first time shortly after I arrived here to visit Red Rose School. I wore the wrong shoes, and was cautioned that were I ever to go through the gate next to the school that beckoned into the depths of the slum I better make sure my feet were covered. I’ve been back many times since to the inner Toi market (fabulous used clothing market, I have a friend who got an authentic Louis Vuitton for under $1) and Makina market where my tailor is. All these visits allowed me to say, “yes, I’ve been to Kibera” though none of them in anyway conveyed the reality of the place I visited for the first time today. The border does not betray the inner sanctum’s reality. No, it does not.

My class had a field day today where we were tasked with visiting an acting development project. I arranged for us to visit school empowerment groups in Kibera that are being run as part of my house mate Megan’s organization, Zanna. I’ve been wanting to visit for ages and this was a great opportunity to do so. Plus, the vision and strategy behind Zanna is exactly what I think the development field needs in order to have a hope and a prayer of actually solving the problems that continue to permeate countries like Kenya.

The first thing you notice about Kibera is the abundance of children, all of whom seem to be the same size. It’s like a slum full of four year olds, all fluent in the language of “How are you!” of which as a mzungu I heard continuously throughout my visit. Then you realize how careful you’re being walking, and the sense of risk you feel as you attempt to peel your eyes from the uneven ground in order to take in the sites and smells around you. A butcher. A sausage cart toiling as it would over a cobbled street but leaving a trail of loose rock in its wake. Mamas and babies peeking out of low, dark windows. A woman in a purple lesso sifting and lightly blowing on maize with a rhythmic toss. Children everywhere, laughing and running, holding hands. A pair no more than three, each wearing one blue flip flop on the opposite foot. What friendship.

I admit I loved being there. I loved the children running by and giving me high fives. I love any opportunity to be reminded how people survive and make the most of the worst of conditions. To find an alternative to the individual stories of grief and despair, to the continued political and ethnic debauchery, the remaining IDPs, the rampant corruption. The sun was shining. Life continues.

One of our professors, a recent PhD graduate assisting our research-burdened tenured staff walked with me for a time. He couldn’t contain his disgust, his frustration at the scene. He takes it more personally than even I do for all my struggles with the inadequacies of humanity. How can some of us rock climb for fun while others build houses upon shifting land amidst rocks of poverty-laden rubble? He is Kenyan, these are his people. This is his land, right nearby the “poor” area he himself lives in. An area that cannot compare to the filth of Kibera.

Kibera, for all the attention it has received, is no joke. Incomes, where they exist, are cobbled together. I passed many tarps of odds and ends – rusted wrenches, dented mechanical parts I could not name, bits of old metal and wire for which I couldn’t imagine a purpose. Every once in awhile a shiny mobile phone. On one tarp, a single upside down porcelain urinal filled with buttons.

It is hard to reconcile my ability to see the beauty, joy and goings on of life in the slum, with the revolting site you have to process in order to know it must be changed. The land is sucked of the green. The water is scarce, the trash unbelievable. Children meander through filth, shining their glorious youth and innocence in order to make it human, to make it bearable.

There is music, constant music. There are babies being held, old men shooting the shit, hunched grandmas walking together. It is life, at the same time as it should, and never should, be.

Scene: A Typical Phone Call

Some insight into the strangely significant sort of cultural accommodations you have to make here on a daily basis.

My phone rings:

Me: Hello?
Person calling: Hi Megan! How are you?
Me: Hi I’m good, thanks. Who is this?
Person calling: Fine, fine (by way of response to my unasked question of “how are you?”). Are you in Nairobi?
Me: Yes, sorry, who is this?
Person calling: Great great, when can we meet?
Me: I’m sorry who is this?
Person calling: (finally tells me who it is).

End scene.

Defensive dressing

There are a million funny bus stories I've failed to record or share here, but I couldn't keep today's to myself.

I often do grocery shopping in town, and today I had my computer as well so by the time I got to the bus I had my hands full. When we passed the stop before mine I got up as I usually do and made my way to the stairs at the door. As I stepped down, preparing to hover in the door so that I could jump off as soon as the bus slowed, the bus sped up and the weight of my bags pulled me forward. In a moment of panic I kicked one foot forward, effectively launching my left shoe out into the street and under the car behind us. Thankfully I didn't launch myself out of the bus, but I was a very silly site walking back from my stop, about 200 yards down the road, with my hands full and one bare foot.

Today's incident adds loose flats to my list of what not to wear on the bus. The biggest prior offender being, of course, the wrap-around skirt.

Playing hooky

Here's what I know: Hippos are the most dangerous animals in Africa. They can run upwards of 14 miles an hour, have seriously huge tusks and a massive jaw (not to mention their substantial bulk).

Here's where I was on Sunday night: Fisherman's camp - famous for the hippos that come up to eat the grass below the campsite that sits on the edge of Lake Naivasha.

Here's why I was there: I've wanted to visit Hell's Gate National Park since I got here. It's just an hour from Nairobi (though by matatu it took me 4 hours...grrr...) and the only place where you can do walking or biking safaris (no lions or elephants - but there are buffalo and leopards so it does require some care!). I haven't had any friends interested in going when I've been free, so its been one of the many tourist attractions I've flat out missed until last week when my friend Allan, a volunteer in Mombasa, said he wanted to go and convinced me to skip my Monday classes (two of which ended up canceled thankfully).

Here's where our tent was: About 15 feet from a very pathetic looking electric fence, that didn't appear to be on. Allan had impulsively leapt over it when the grass was hippo-free just after dinner, hitting it in the process with his metal crutch (he had a sprained ankle) with absolutely no reaction on the part of the fence.

Here's where everyone else's tents were: A lot further away.

And finally, here's what happened: We went to sleep around 11, sad we hadn't seen any hippos but ready to rest in order to get up at 6 for our biking safari (for which I sadly have no pictures because I forgot to change my battery - snap!). At about 11:30 we were awoken by the unmistakable sound of a large animal outside the tent, most likely chewing the grass, but possibly just walking through the spongy ground (it had rained that day). Allan bolted out of the tent with my headlamp, while I simply rolled over and tried to get back to sleep since I knew I wouldn't be able to see anything and I was comfy.

A few minutes of relative silence passed. Then, I heard the deep, deafening roar of a single adult hippo. It broke through the night like nothing I've ever experienced. It sounded like he was just outside my tent, and I was sure that the fence we'd observed before must have had a gap we hadn't seen that allowed him to wander up to the grass next to the tent.

The roar was followed by the immediate sound of running directly past the tent. I remember being sure that it was the hippo itself, I could hear the weight in the movement, though thinking back I think I was hearing both the hippos mock charge and what I found out was Allan, crutches free, sprinting past the tent at virtually the same time. I wish I had words to articulate the combination of the roar and the speed of the thunderous running. The first few seconds of this video show what a charging hippo can look like:



Then, silence.

So there I was, by myself in a tent with no screen or way of seeing outside, knowing only that one of the most dangerous animals in the world was less than 20 feet away and really, really pissed off.

I didn't know how hippos sense things (apparently it's by smell so you want to get down wind of them if possible). I didn't want to call out to Allan for fear it would attract attention, and I was afraid to move in case of the same. While I could logically run through the fact that there was a fence, that all I represented was the motionless white structure of my tent and that all a hippo at that time would be interested in would be grass, I could not calm down. Allan finally came back to the tent and explained what had happened. He'd followed another hippo down the grass a bit and when he came back caught the second one square on with my head lamp, causing the mock charge.

There were a few more brays throughout the night, but for the most part it was calm. Of course I jumped at every rustle of the trees, constructing all sorts of scenarios in the aftermath of fear (at one point convinced there was a leopard outside, at another dreaming that a man with a machine gun was entering the tent). It is by far the most scared and powerless I have ever been.

The next day we learned that most likely the hippo near us has been cast out of his herd for trying to challenge the dominant male. For now, he's eating as much as he can so he can bulk up and try again. Incidentally, we also found out that a tourist was killed at Fisherman's camp in 2005 when she came between a hippo and its calf late at night.

Suffice it to say I gave the buffaloes a wide berth on our bike safari the next day.

A new endeavor

Like so many of the most exciting projects I've been a part of in my life, my newest endeavor is the result of a last minute burst of inspiration that moved me to throw my name into the mix and see what came of it. I've just joined the Editorial Advisory Board for JustMeans, an organization dedicated to spreading the word about corporate social responsibility (CSR), providing a forum to discuss it and other related issues (ethical consumption, social entrepreneurship, sustainable development etc.) while raising awareness for both companies and consumers alike. I'll be posting roughly every other day working to generate dialogue, interview CSR professionals and everyday people about what they know of CSR and what they think it should be and much more. Today is my first post and I'd love it if you'd take a look here. Feel free to comment and send any thoughts you have about CSR my way - I'll be on the constant look out for fresh content and perspective as I work to balance this new opportunity with my final month of school and preparation to return home for the summer.