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!
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