Being white in Kenya

One reality is ever-present for foreigners in Kenya - white skin means money. From the elderly to the very young, skin colour equates to a high income ad the capacity to pay. Whilst this may seem trite, in 99% of cases it is actually true.

When at a market or street stall there are two prices; the local price and the "mazungu" (white person) price. This can vary by a great deal.
For example, last week we drove 40km to Kitale, the largest city in our province. One of my tasks was to purchase a rake and a hoe for gardening. Some hardware stores are small concrete buildings with hardly enough room to stand inside, while others spread their wares over the footpath. The latter is a much easier way to buy as you can inspect the product very easily. I settled upon two items and was given a price of 1850 shillings ($22). The hoe, by the way, did not have a handle. I was not totally impressed with the price so I started to walk towards his competition at the very next stall. In broken English, the store owner quickly suggested that he would fit a handle to the hoe at no extra cost. This seemed fair (and I am still not the best of bargainers) so I accepted the deal.

Two days later I am using the tools in the backyard when two of the Form 2 boys (Donald and Joash "the 15 year old evangelist"), turn up and offered to help. Help was not required but they stayed and talked for a while. Eventually the subject turned to the new tools and they asked where they had come from and how much they cost. When I told them they looked at each other with that universal look that needs no explanation "oh man, he was ripped off big time". I explained that I fully realised that the price would be higher because I was white. "Next time, you should take us with you" they added. They were correct.

Supermarkets, as we know them, only exist in the larger cities. While prices here are quite expensive compared to the markets, at least you know that you are being charged the same price as everyone else.

Interesting, as we walk along the road there is the occasional glance but most adults pay little attention to us. In the larger cities we are instantly surrounded by street sellers, hawking their fresh produce of fruits and vegetables in plastic bags. An aside here: plastic bags are one of the biggest curses in Kenya. Every thing you buy is put inside a plastic bag. Even when you say you don't want a plastic bag, you get a plastic bag. There is no rubbish collection and no public bins so a large percentage of the plastic ends up blowing down the street. Some towns are littered with plastic bags; on the footpath, in trees and sticking out of the dried mud.

In Kamukuywe, our local town, the adults seem to recognise that we are from the Agape school. In fact, sometimes they call out "Agape" as we pass by. They understand that most white people in town are associated with the big high school with overseas connections.

The children are different. Like children everywhere they are more inquisitive and less likely to be diplomatic. When we pass them in groups we often hear the word "mazungu" mentioned. I know it refers to white people, I don't know how complimentary it is.
Most Kenyan school children learn English. Primary schoolers often call out "how are you" to white people, and of course, the reply is "I am fine".

There seem to be no beggars on the streets. In this rural area, most people are farmers and they manage to support themselves. I greatly admire their work ethic. The market provides all sorts of fresh produce that is excess to the household's needs; bananas for about 5 cents each, a kilo of potatoes for 50 cents (some of the best tasting potatoes on the planet), and tomatoes for 70 cents per kilo.

We have had elderly women ask for money on a small number of occasions. On one shopping expedition an elderly lady saw me looking at dress material and asked me if I would buy some for her. When I declined she asked "don't you like me"? I wonder whether many elderly women in Kenya  do rely on charity, and so culturally it is more acceptable for them to ask for money.

I have skirted this topic already ... But it is very hard to know when to be charitable and when not to be. Our time in Kenya is tightly budgeted as I am here on long-service leave on half pay and Desleigh has the year off without pay. Also, Agape in Action prefers all donations and gifts to go through the organisation, not just be "random acts of kindness". This is VERY difficult. Our hearts go out to these people, especially the children.
Another complicating factor is that if you start to give, more will come next time. Lastly, do we really want the locals to think that "white means instant money for nothing"?

There will always be exceptions and I would like to share one with you. Might I add that tears are already starting to appear in my eyes.
Brian and Christina (the previous fieldworkers) had been assisting a local widow, with the approval of the school and Agape. Jenny, probably in her forties, supports 4 grand children, including one under 12 months of age. Her son-in-law died of aids before the last child was born, and her daughter (the mother of the child) died a few weeks after giving birth. Jenny's daughter was the main breadwinner in the family. Davis, the baby, was tested for HIV and returned a positive result. None of the other children are HIV positive.
Kenya provides free aids treatment, but to obtain this Jenny must get the child to a clinic 15 Kms away.
Walking home from church today I noticed that Jenny was in her front yard. I had not been introduced to her, but after exchanging the common greeting of "jambo" I decided to introduce myself. Jenny's English was reasonable. I explained that I had replaced Brian at the school and that if she needed transport to the clinic she should see me at the school (her home is only 100 metres away). I asked her how she was progressing with the children and at that point one of the older kids walked out of the house carrying Davis. He was obviously growing and putting on weight, but did not look alert. I asked Jenny if there was anything she needed and her reply was "milk for the baby". I gave her the 200 shillings ($2.50) that I had left from marketing and left to catch up with the other walkers.

It was at that very moment that I questioned my motives; how did I feel?Why were tears appearing in my eyes? Was this act done for her benefit or my own? Do we really give out of compassion or is it to make ourselves feel more righteous?

You can only answer that question for yourself. Giving to others in Kenya has not made me feel "good" or "righteous". It has made me ashamed of a world where there is so much inequality. I walked away from Jenny feeling many emotions, some I have rarely felt before; sadness, a pain in the chest, helplessness, and hope all rolled into one. I believe that it is a blessing to be learning these lessons and to have the opportunity to touch other people's lives.

It certainly is a challenge being white in Kenya!

The Daily Routine

4:45     Awake from slumber.  Is that the sound of a beating drum? No, it's just the cook's assistant hacking at a log to obtain wood for the open fire. Drift back to sleep.
4:55     They shouldn't be out of bed yet, but some of the girls from the dormitory giggle and call out as they begin their morning ritual of washing and preening.

5:00     The bell sounds. This is the official start to the students' day although it is still dark in this equatorial part of the world. More and more voices join the chorus. They have been asked to be considerate towards others who are sleeping, but after all, they are teenagers. The cows start to moo. The dogs reply.
5:10       Drift back into a semi-sleep. While drifting between awake and asleep the rooster crows.
5:45    Some particularly loud girls call out only 10 metres from our bedroom. Awake again. The cows are still mooing. Drift back to sleep.
6:15       Footsteps passing by - many of them. The girls are heading towards the school rooms to begin their self-directed study. This is a good thing as soon it is fairly quiet except for the occasional cow, dog and rooster. Drift back into a deeper sleep.
7:15       Oh no!, it's quarter past seven already - must get up. Shower, dressed, quick bite of toast and tea (or if time permits, some of Desleigh's home-made muesli first (N.B. a 650g packet of decent muesli costs $9 in the supermarket).
7:40    Head over to the staff room (20 metres away). Shake hands with whomever is present, followed by the obligatory "how are you" with the reply of "I am fine".
7:45     The bell rings. Students (not as quickly as you might expect) gather for their morning assembly. They have come from a 45 minute revision session, usually attended by some of their teachers who have work to finish or revise. there are formal assemblies on Monday and Friday, bible talk on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and class meetings on Wednesday. There are prayers, readings, short inspirational talks and announcements. At formal assemblies the Kenyan flag is unfurled and the national anthem sung. A drill from a marching group precedes the unfurling. Occasionally we are asked to speak on these assemblies, especially the bible talk days.
8:15       Lesson 1 . There are 45 lessons in a week and the average teacher takes about 28. With 8 classes and 14 teachers there is always a fair number of staff in the staff room. I have a very light teaching load, only 9 lessons of Geography each week (plus some bible studies). The extra time is spent assessing English comprehension, providing professional development for teachers and working on policies and procedures in the school. Alan, the school principal, is a very intelligent man, and very easy to work with. We both have grown-up children and are closer to 60 than 50!
8:55      Lesson 2. At this school the students stay in their room and the teachers move around.
9:35     Time for a 10 minute break. Students go to the toilet, sit in the shade or, more likely, stay in their room. They have a great attachment to their classroom.
9:45      Lesson 3, and it's not even ten o'clock yet!
10:25    Lesson 4.
11:05      A longer break - 20 minutes. The students line up for their morning tea - their first food for the day. The staff gather in the staff room for mundazis (wonderful doughnut-like treats) and Kenyan tea. The tea is black tea that is delivered in a thermos with milk and sugar already added.
11:25     Lesson 5.
12:05     Lesson 6.
12:45     Lunch. The students line up for a bowl of rice and beans. Staff are provided with much the same thing inside the staff room. Serving bowls are brought in by the cooks. One of the female staff members will plate-up and distribute the meal to each table. One day may be rice and beans, the next ugali and meat, the next rice, potato and cabbage. Meat is infrequent but carbs are always plentiful.
1:25     Bible studies. This is taught by a select number of teachers plus some community members. Most of the staff receive an extra 40 minutes lunchtime. Us volunteers are rostered on one week in three.
2:00    The bell rings and the students have 5 minutes for a toilet break. The staff have another 5 minutes in the staff room.
2:05     Lesson 7.
2:45     Lesson 8.
3:25     Lesson 9. I don't know why, but in the afternoon when it is hotter and the students are tired, they have fewer breaks!
4:05     Fifteen minutes for cleaning the class rooms. There are rosters, but this early in the year it is not being done consistently (note to self; this is something to work on).
4:20 Optional sport or 'clubs'. This includes journalism, art, CYC, singing, marching - and the soon to be formed ENVIRONMENTAL GROUP (I hope).
5:00     The day students leave for home. The boarders have an hour or so to wash, socialise or play more sport. We retreat to the mansion and brew some coffee in the Kenyan 2499 shilling ($30) coffee drip filter, with genuine Kenyan ground coffee.
5:30     Unless lured by a short nap, we will go for a walk, or watch the students play sport, or challenge them to a game of badminton. Tabby likes to go running - the poor, misguided soul. An hour relaxing and catching up on emails is also a popular choice. Des seems intent on reading all of the  "Laura Ingalls Wilder Series". She is not teaching other than bible studies,  but when Form 1 arrive there will be lots of students who need help with English comprehension.
6:45     (Or thereabouts) The boarders line-up for their evening meal. As yet there is no meeting or dining hall so the meals are consumed outside on the grass or in the classroom.
We also try to have our evening meal at about this time. Our major complication is when there is no water or an unexpected blackout occurs. Actually, is there such a thing as an expected blackout? To be honest, there is in Kenya. Whenever it rains there seems to be an accompanying power failure. Please ask an electrician why this is so (it may need to be a Kenyan electrician).
7:30     The bells rings once again. All boarders assemble in one classroom - yes, somehow all 100 fit in. We don't know what will happen when 50 or so Form 1's arrive in a couple of weeks. The boarders run their own meeting. There are songs (usually two to start with), often sung with great gusto and lots of refrains and extra 'echoes'. Then a prayer followed by a short talk - sometimes a student, sometimes one of the field workers. Then another song, and finally a prayer. Once the formalities are over the announcements start.  This is often to do with "a lost jumper" or the request that "everyone should arrive more promptly and listen more intently to the giver of the word!" Occasionally one of the prefects will get annoyed with the antics of someone up the back (am I back in Australia?) and will berate them in Swahili. We figure that this is to shield us from the invective.
8:10     The meeting is over and the boarders stream back to their classroom for unassisted study. We head back to the mansion for tea and crumpets.
9:30    Boarders start preparing for bed. The girls head in one direction to their brand new dormitory and the boys head back to the old dorm rooms. The two dorms are separated by two houses. Surprisingly, there is little need to enforce the "no fraternising" policy.
10:00    The final bell sounds and all boarders are expected to be in bed. They will be up early tomorrow so they don't need much coaxing. Neither do we.

Bread of Life

The average rural family in Western Kenya basically has a vegetarian diet. Most meals consist of ugali (porridge bread), rice, or home-made breads and chappatis along with a bean stew and perhaps some kale or cabbage. Tomato and onion are often added to flavour the greens. The food is simple but nutritious.

Unfortunately, many children do not get adequate nutrition. The main causes are loss of the breadwinner, poor farm returns or a basic lack of knowledge regarding a balanced diet.

The Christo's in Kamukuywe established a nutrition program in 2013. It was initiated by Brian and Christine Lloyd from the USA, Rose Spry from Canada and Tabby Ryan from South Australia. Local sisters have carried on the good work since then.

On a Sunday morning children of all ages appear from the fields and dirt tracks to participate in Sunday School. Many are local children with no formal connection to the church. They sing, hear bible stories and receive a nutrition drink. The concoction is a mixture of water, ground grains, protein powder, vitamins and minerals.

The children are happy for any gift of food, but this gift will have lasting benefits for their health. It is wonderful to see their eager faces as they wait in line. This really is a great example of God at work in rural Kenya.

There must have been at least 60 children receiving their drink this morning, and this happens every week.  Surprisingly, the whole scheme costs a mere $3000 per year. For this rural church though, this is a huge amount.

You can help! Even a small amount of money will provide this drink for a child for months. We live a life of abundance whereas these children have very little. If you would like to help out, go to Tabby's web site:

    www.agapeinaction.com/tabbys_page.html

For Desleigh and I it has been truly uplifting to see this Agape in Action!

Daily life at the mansion

I may have given you the impression that home life here at the school is just like back on Oz. This is not so, as the photographic evidence shows:

The water supply is only cold water, both to the kitchen and bathroom. However, the Kenyans have a clever system where a small heater is attached to the shower rose. The water is 'heated' as it flows out the rose. As you can imagine, it doesn't get very hot, but in Kenya's climate that's quite okay. You must remember to turn on the water before the heater, and then turn off the heater before the water. Otherwise you will burn out the heater.

Of course, Kenya is a country where malaria is present. We take a daily tablet to prevent the disease but it is also common for houses and hotels catering to Westerners to have mosquito netting. Long pants, long-sleeve shirt and shoes are also advisable. Our travel doctor recommended "Bushman" insect repellent as well.

We have a stove that has three gas elements and one electric element. Often in the evening the power is out, so the gas stove is essential. Our supply comes from a 9kg bottle outside the kitchen. The first time we turned on the gas it leaked out the pipe and required repairs - sandwiches for tea that night.

The cold taps are not gravity fed. Water only flows when our pump is turned on. It is a small, inexpensive pump that we only use when we need to fill the toilet, use the shower of fill water containers. Water is double-filtered before we drink it.

This is the bore/well. If the bore runs dry all bets are off and there is no water in the school at all. This has happened once this week, probably because of the construction work that uses a large quantity of water. There is an obvious need for rainwater tanks - something that doesn't seem common in Kenya.

On the bright side, only one of these fruits and vegetables was NOT grown in the local area. The orange is from South Africa. All of the others (including Des' favourites of mango and paw paw) are readily available in the local market. Typical prices? 5 bananas for 25 cents, $1.90 for the pineapple, 50c for each large mango and about 25c for the small ones on top of the bowl, $1.20 for a kilo of tomatoes. These are local market prices, supermarkets can be double that. Basics like fruit, grains, flour and pulses are very cheap. Anything Western is about the same price we would pay in Australia.

SWAHELI LESSON:  Ndio Tafadhali  (yes please)

Why do Kenyans say hakuna matata?

"No worries" is the attitude you need in Kenya, otherwise you would go crazy. Certainly, it is very difficult for Westerners to put up with the constant delays, red tape, queues and government bureaucracy (already mentioned in a previous post). Where we would get annoyed and frustrated, to their credit, Kenyans just take it in their stride. In fact, it seems to be important that you do not show frustration or annoyance in dealing with others.

It has taken me 3-4 days to be able to face thinking about this example incident, but here goes ...

On our second day in Nairobi we fronted at the Education Department building to OBTAIN A FORM. The form gives approval for a foreigner to teach in Kenya; we didn't expect to gain approval, just obtain the form. How long do you think it should take to obtain a form. Write down your guess now! At the gate we went through the metal detectors. Once at reception we filled out the visitors book and explained our request. The receptionist sent us to the director's office on the seventh floor. Ten minutes.

After entering the lift we noticed that, for some unknown reason, the seventh floor button didn't work. We left the lift at the sixth floor and walked up one flight. It didn't take long to find the director's office, but the secretary said he wasn't in and she didn't know when he would be back. She sent us to see the Assistant Director on the fifth floor. Twenty minutes.

There was no one in the room we were sent to, but someone in the corridor pointed us to a different room which was, in fact, the Assistant Director's room. We waited 5 minutes for an audience. The AD was supportive of our cause and was happy to tell us that approval from the education authority was no longer needed. A special instrumentality had been set up to administer teacher qualification and employment, called the TSE. We would have to go to the TSE for approval. It was in a different building. Fortunately we had a local pastor with us who was very aware of the approval procedure. He questioned the AD to the point where he agreed to "phone a friend" (a colleague actually) who worked in this area each day. After two attempts at calling, we were on our way to the Quality Assurance section on the fourth floor. Forty five minutes.

The QA guy was very welcoming. Not only was he also keen to gain western help in the education system but he was an ex geography teacher and came from the neighbouring region to Kamukuywe. He wasn't sure about the current policy. Out came the mobile phone and within 3 minutes the real expert had entered the room. The RE was also friendly and helpful (a trait, I am sure, of the Kenyan people). He was able to inform us that the authority process had not been taken over by the TSE and that we would indeed have to obtain approval from the Education Department. He outlined the simple process of obtaining a form and paying for it at the cashier. The form could be obtained on the seventh floor. One hour, 15 minutes.

Familiar with the seventh floor we took no time at all finding the room where forms were dispensed. After the normal greetings and hand shakes we explained our request. Yes, this was the correct place but you have to pay for the form before you can obtain it. You must pay 1000 shillings to the cashier on the ninth floor. Oh, and by the way, you cannot pay by cash or credit card. Hearing this, obviously, we had to ask what kind of payment was accepted. The only acceptable method of payment was bank cheque. One hour, thirty minutes.

Fortunately there was a bank only two blocks away, and blocks aren't very large in Nairobi. Our pastor friend Isaac volunteered to line up for us and obtain the bank cheque. There were about 25 people in front of him in the ONE available line.The bank guard didn't want us loitering around so we went outside to wait on the street.

AN ASIDE: while waiting on the street we heard the sound of cheering and whistle blowing about a block away. We had seen this before, it was a peaceful demonstration of vendors walking through the streets in protest over government price hikes on their licenses. Suddenly there was a loud bang accompanied by a visible pall of smoke ( perhaps a flare or a firework or some attention-grabbing explosion). The protestors weren't concerned but the average joe on the street didn't know what was happening so they started running in all directions. Within about 30 seconds there were about fifty extra people sheltering in the bank, including us. Banks, like all other large buildings in Nairobi , have armed guards. The demonstrators passed without incident and within 5 minutes things had gone back to normal.

Isaac finally reached the teller but he hadn't filled out the form that was available on the side counter. The teller sent him over to do it. I was mortified that he would have to line up again, but even Kenyans aren't that officious. Back to the teller who, after another three minutes sent Isaac to another window for the cheque to be drawn. Seven minutes later our cheque was in hand. Two hours and twenty five minutes.

On the downhill run, we returned to the Education building, by-passing reception and heading straight for room 225 on the ninth floor. As we approached we noticed that room 224 had a sign on it saying "cash receipts" so we waited our turn and stated our request. No, we were in the wrong room and did indeed need to go to room 225 - the one without a sign on the door. The data entry person understood our request and within 2-3 minutes had produced a receipt for our payment of 1000 shillings. So ... Why were we still waiting? Isaac enquired in Swahili and found out that the receipt must be authorised by his senior officer. She was not there, probably at lunch. We waited. Two hours and fifty five minutes.

Fifteen minutes later the SO appeared with mug in hand (yes, it must have been lunch). She now had a pile of forms to initial so she ushered us back to her office, questioned us politely about our mission and initialled the form. Thanking her we made our way down to the seventh floor. Presenting our receipt as if it was a winning lottery ticket we wondered if this last step could possibly be delayed somehow. Well yes, and no. Our latest friend was happy to provide the form, but instead of being retrieved from a cabinet, it had to be generated on a computer. After taking some details such as the name of the school and length of stay the form was finally ready. However, our friend seemed dismayed slightly. Each form is given a unique number, supposedly so that someone can't just pay for a form and then copy it many times for others - why should others miss all this fun. She had somehow printed the number upside-down on the top of the form. No worries, it would have to do. We made our way out of the building, strangely elated that we had survived the ordeal. Three hours and forty five minutes had elapsed.

I assure you there has been no embellishment of this story, although the times have been estimated. If anything, some of the finer details have been forgotten.

This then is the lot of the average Kenyan. Whether dealing with business or government the outcome is always the same; it takes lots of time and patience, and you still may not get very far. Hakuna matata!

P.S the form could not be submitted. It must be signed by the school (350 Kms away) and returned IN PERSON to the ED office in Nairobi!

A look around

Well here we are at the school. Let's take a look around ...

This is a view from the football field, showing most of the buildings.

The new girls' dormitory. It's nearly finished - hopefully by Monday afternoon. Some of the girls have already taken up residence because there is no room in the old dormitory.

Our palatial residence; no joke, it is much grander than anything in the area. We have all the Western conveniences minus a microwave and a spa! Three bedrooms, so there is room for visitors (hint, hint).

The old dormitories. Bursting at the seams and soon to become a "boys only" zone.

The teaching block. Each class has their own room and the teachers move on the bell, not the classes.

The school has five automatic lawn mowers - here is two of them.

When you have automatic lawn mowers and you plant new trees ... you need a good strong surround to allow their early growth. Not very aesthetic, but effective.

The neighbours.

The current teaching staff, although more will be needed after Form 1 arrives next week. So there you go, welcome to our world for the next 11 months. It's exciting yet challenging. The welcome has been very positive and we feel accepted into the school community. Swahili term for the day; "pole pole" meaning "slow down, you move too fast ..." (courtesy of Simon & Garfunkel). Post you later.

Bureaucracy 101

The first hurdle in Nairobi turned out to be our residency permit - the permit you have when you want something more useful than a 90 day visa. This, by the way, is a complex process. As well as a three-page form we needed evidence of academic qualifications, copies of our passport and passport photos, a letter of recommendation from a sponsoring recognised charity or church, evidence of school registration and a 1000 shilling processing fee.
It's easy to be quietly confident with form generation when you are preparing documents in the comfort of your own home. However, when staring through a grille at a government officer who speaks quietly and quickly, everything changes.
The experience started well. We only took ten minutes to find the right office, and it was ground floor as well, only two people in the appropriate queue - things were looking good. That's when we first met our officious but well-meaning public servant (WMPS). We had the right window, but he didn't like the look of our forms - too many blank spaces, even though the questions did not apply to our permit category. "Go away and write something in those spaces" he said. So we did, wrote something semi-relevant in some places, and "N/A" in others.
Back to our WMPS. "No, no, no this still isn't right, you must fill-out all answers properly". "But sir"  I intoned with a false sense of knowledge, " those question only apply to categories A to E, and we need a category I". Admittedly, he must have been getting quite frustrated with these ignorant aliens (that was the word used on the sign!), but he kept his composure. Then came the clincher; "you must fill out that section because the category names have changed and your voluntary category is now E". Well blow me down ... Why didn't I know that. Strangely above my head there was a LCD display describing each category's requirements, and the technology department was obviously not aware of the change either. That made me feel somewhat better - no it didn't, I'm telling fibs.
"Fix that up and see me before you pay the cashier, I'm sure your (heavily scribbled on and somewhat untidy form ... Oh yes, our pens leaked from the plane trip too) will be satisfactory".
During our third edit the entire office closed for lunch. Nobody was let in but we were allowed to stay inside and wait for the grand re-opening. By the way, lunch goes for one hour in Nairobi departmental offices.
On the stroke of two, Des is back at the counter. The WMPS is now happy with our applications, but doubts whether our photocopies will be be good enough (he expected the originals). I lectured him about the tyranny of distance, but to no avail. Help affixing our passport-sized photos and we were sent to the cashier.
You would think that a cashier would just take money and issue a receipt, wouldn't you? so the eight people in front of us didn't seem to represent a major obstacle. Amazingly, after about three minutes with each customer, they hung around waiting for paperwork to be eventually shoved under the metal grate. While one was being spoken to, he seemed to be finishing off the paper work for the previous customer.
Finally, job done ... But Des just had to ask didn't she? "What do we do next" she asked hopefully.
Come back to this office in two months time.