Another Week Bites The Dust

Week of September 16th – 22ND
On Wednesday, I handed in the reviewed M&E documents to Janet. I was a little nervous about what she would say about it, because this was the first concrete work I had completed since arriving. I taught her how to use track changes on Microsoft office programs. That way I could note all the changes easily without changing the document itself. I did not want to just go in like the expert and start changing things around, so I just made suggestions that she could ignore or accept as we reviewed them. As expected, she loved some ideas and kindly rejected others after explaining her reasons. My worrying was once again futile and I believe I am gaining more self-confidence from the work I am doing here. To be honest, I didn’t think I knew much about M&E, but it turns out I have done similar activities in the past—I just doubted myself. The OVC database management system, on the other hand, is something I am fairly certain that I am uncertain about. Baby steps Daniel, it will all work out.
When I arrived home after work, I became stressed out about my directed study. I did not realize that the deadline for my outline was approaching very fast. I have never taken part in anything like this before (a self-directed course where you are the only student) and I was very unsure about what it entails. To make things worse, the only way I could contact my supervisor was by email—and the internet has proven to be shitty at best (compared to my high standards back in Canada of course). Alas, I finally had all my questions and concerns listed so I sent her an email for clarification, then continued with what I could do on the project. I am starting to feel that I took on a large amount of work for this trip. On one hand, it really helps me to clarify my experiences; on the other, it limits my experiences because I will not have as much free time to gain foreign experiences. I believe I made the right choice in taking the directed study because once in a lifetime opportunities only come once in a lifetime—so if I am interested in food security, how could I not take this directed study? Who knows, maybe it will open up a door to an honors thesis, job opportunities, or grad studies in the area. Besides, I will have lots of time to sleep when I am dead.
On Thursday, I did not do many productive work activities (back to being obsolete after only a few days it seemed). Instead, I did a lot of reading and research. For the morning, I concentrated on reading my food security/HIV articles and expanding them with internet research to broaden my information base. In the afternoon, I started reading some things on my Development Studies correspondence course—the fancy name for this blog (kidding Dr. Tamas). As I read through a few articles, I was kicking myself for not reading them before coming to Kenya. As I am reading through the readings, I am realizing some of my embarrassing moments could have been avoided with by understanding the readings. I felt very busy and was very uncertain of what to do with my correspondence course (another first for me), so I just plugged-up and did nothing about it. I have heard people say: in stressful situations some people wake up and others fall asleep. I hope this is not a sign that I am the latter, which could be very bad for me. However, (if I am one to sleep through a battle) I believe I am evolving. In the army (I’m a reservist, so not really the army) you don’t have the opportunity to sleep under stress. Many people have told me I am great in stressful situations, but it could be that I am afraid to get butt-stroked by the Sgt if I just sit down and cry.
I realize it is very easy to relax when things become stressful (as you can see from the last entry), but this only extends the problem in a cyclic fashion. For example, you get behind on a project, then you sleep; then you’re more behind than before, so you sleep longer. This cycle continues until you either become depressed or an external party picks up the slack for your laziness. The solution to this is very obvious, but I have to remind myself often: work harder and do not get down on yourself. In the words of my favorite Flogging Molly song, “So go and bow your head and weep / For the world won’t change while you sleep / Because the summer that was lost now is gone”. If I get scared, I can’t let the fear show, not because of a macho-man guise, but rather to ensure my fear does not make the issue worse.
After work, I went down to Jumba’s with Jerry and had a beer, which turned into 2, which turned into a few. I met a nice man that worked at the sugar factory, and he decided to give me a present. The present was…termites. Termites are a delicacy in Kenya because they are believed to make a person big and strong—which makes sense because bugs have a high protein content—but they are still bugs to me! I explained that in Canada, eating termites are like eating mosquitoes. Jerry responded, “No, mosquitoes are bugs, termites are very nutritious food”. Semantics, Jerry; mosquitoes may be nutritious also. The woman dumped the termites on a piece of newspaper and threw some salt on them—many of them were still alive. I could not refuse such a generous gift, so I picked 3 up and popped them in my mouth (avoiding the ones that were still crawling). I was very nervous at how they would taste, but they actually were not that bad with the salt on them and I ate about 150 of them.
Afterwards, I started thinking back to my childhood; the last time I can remember trying something I believed to be gross. I remember trying ketchup (I hated ketchup) as a young lad. I gagged and spat out the ketchup, disgusted. The strange thing I realized is this: I was much more shocked at the bitter taste of ketchup and Pepsi than I was after swallowing my first live termite—I did not gag after my first termite. I realized that the initial shock of eating a termite was constructed by my opinion of termites being something people should not eat. I struggled to find a logical reason for not eating it, but came up empty. Termites are a very sweet and nutritious food, which is a lot more than I can say about TV-dinners. I believe I have made a great mental stride in bridge identity politics. I value something, Kenyan people may value something else, but it was only after learning their values that I could accept this custom. In hindsight, this example of value bridge building seems simple, but only after I examined my own values. I look forward to having more of these eureka moments, because it really made me feel one with the group.
Friday was the day that Jerry and I planned on going to Kisumu to pick up Gladys and Leonard (the accountant) from the airport. FYI, Kisumu is the area where President Obama’s father was born, and Obama’s grandmother still lives there. It turns out that 3 days after I left the Kisumu area, they made it a protected area, which means it will be guarded and promoted for tourism. I have warned my friends about this for years, but they were usually as drunk as me when I spoke that they may not remember. We have killed so many wild animals that we have to have them caged in zoos so we can view them. Pretty soon, wild animals will be so rare that we will have human zoos where we have to pay to see certain people. Well the time had arrived. We pay a fortune to see the Maasai tribe in Maasai Mara and now we have an old lady as a tourist attraction.
I digress. Kisumu is a great little city; it borders Lake Victoria and avoids the hectic speed of Nairobi. I saw many interesting things on this trip, but the most significant was the remains of the post-election violence in the downtown area. We would be observing the many nice buildings in town, then pass by a large building that was burnt in the violence of 2007. Massive, once elegant buildings that sometimes towered over the surrounding buildings were left burnt and gutted like a skeleton. Kisumu is predominately Luo, with a small minority of Kikuyu owning large businesses in the area. When the violence started, the Luo would attack the Kikuyus in Kisumu—but the Kikuyu would not have adequate numbers to defend themselves. Men were forced to watch their wives and children raped and murdered, and then the man would be killed. Most prosperous Kikuyu in the downtown area had their shops and homes burnt down. If a matatu or a bus came into town, the rebels would put up roadblocks and force everybody out of the bus. The travelers were forced to show their ID cards, which showed their tribe. If any of the passengers were Kukuyu, the family was raped and murdered.
This was the first concrete evidence I saw in Kenya that the post-election violence actually happened. Not that I doubted its existence, but a long chill went down my spine each time we passed by the remains of a once large and lucrative structure. I have seen some things that I wish I did not (initially), but I have to tell these stories in hopes that we can all ensure it does not happen again. WARNING: realist coming out. Things like this will likely happen many times in the future, but I hope we notice them early enough to avoid it escalating to this point. As another side note, I believe this opportunity will provide a great insight into the ethical considerations of conflict management, which will help me immensely in bridging the obvious gap between my morals and my part-time career as an army medic. I hope to be seen as less of a walking contradiction.
On a happier note, I went down and relaxed on Lake Victoria for a short time. The cool air off the water and the children swimming made me miss home, but it also served as a calming factor after what I just witnessed. A hippo could be seen in the distance on the Lake, women were cooking fresh fish, men were making money cleaning vehicles that drove partly into the lake, and kids were swimming naked in the Lake—unaware of their nakedness. It was a picture of beauty as the sun was setting out on the water. How could these people be capable of the horrific events of 2007? I suppose you need to view true hatred in order to appreciate true love.
We walked back to town and had a bite and a beer at the restaurant. I had an uncontrollable urge to watch the Lion King ever since I arrived in Kenya and heard a man say “Hakuna Matata” to me, but there was not a copy in the mall. I got over my disappointment and we went to the airport to wait for their arrival. This was another very eye-opening day that once again left me lying awake in bed, sorting it out.
Saturday began like every other Saturday in Kenya. I woke up to the sun shining and kids laughing. Screwed the dog on the computer for a few minutes, and then set myself on cleaning. My clothes have been piling up, but I was determined to have all my clothes cleaned by noon. My fingers became raw again, but I was very satisfied when I washed my last article of clothing—I know it does not seem exciting, but wouldn’t you be excited if you didn’t have to bleed for another 2 weeks? Geoffrey (a coworker) was having a fundraiser for his grad studies in London on this day, so I met Don, Gladys’ son and we went to meet Valarie at the office. The three of us walked to Kanduyi, where Geoffrey and his family were having the fundraiser at a place called Generations. It was a nice compound; painted brightly and full of free-roaming cats that fed on scraps and kept pests out of the compound. For the majority of the fundraiser I sat on a lawn chair, drank Coke, and enjoyed the peace that the cats seemed to ensure. As many people know, I really hate cats; my grandfather hated cats and it has been passed down to me every since. However, the cats just minded their own business because nobody every tried to domesticate them to the extreme extent it is done in Canada. Cats are wild animals but they can form a symbiotic relationship with humans, that is all—Kenyans realize this, why can’t so many of my ex-girlfriends realize they are not a woman’s best friend. I’ll stop; this is neither the time nor the place to cat-bash.
We did a ‘merry-go-round’ fundraiser with CREADIS members and Geoffrey’s family. I put in 1000Ksh for a good cause, but the person holding the bowl immediately made me feel like a muzungu. 1000Ksh is about $15, so I figured $15 would be a worthy donation for grad studies in the UK, that’s a 2 day pass in the Underground (Subway). The person holding the bowl told everybody, “That is an elephant”. To explain his comment, the 1000Ksh is the note with a picture of the elephant on it. For him to say this, he obviously believed the donation was overly generous and Geoffrey thanked me sincerely. Instead of feeling like I did a good deed, I felt reverted back to somebody that is different from Kenyans. I turned red and sunk down in my chair while people thanked me and I shyly tried to explain myself casually. I spent about 6 hours at the fundraiser, but 5 of those hours were just sitting down shooting the shit with Geoffrey. He has never left Africa, so I gave him some pointers (even though I only spent a day in London). I told him about the efficiency of the Underground as opposed to taxis, and gave him some much needed advice on dressing for winter.
When I finally left Generations, I realized the sun was down and I had to get to the restaurant fast before it closed—so I had my first solo matatu trip. The conductor (man in charge of the money and passengers) was surprised I wanted to get it because most white people feel safer on bodabodas. I don’t believe anybody spoke English in the van, but seemed happy that I was there—no asking for money, just ‘Habari’ and ‘sema’ (which translates to ‘say’ but is like saying what’s up). I have realized I know enough Kiswahili to get around without getting lost, which is a comforting thought. I can by no means speak the language well, but hopefully I will learn enough phrases that eventually more complete sentences will result.
Sunday was the due date for my directed study proposal (I thought; it turned out to be due Monday) so I woke up with a drive to complete that. Murphy’s Law was once again in place because since Saturday, evening, we started having power issues. There would be a blackout for a few hours, and then it may come on for 20 minutes or so. I realized that it would take all day for my laptop to charge so I just took my notebook into town and decided to write down the outline the old-fashioned way as I ate my lunch. I have become spoiled by technology in the last few years, so I have forgotten how satisfying it is to write down a report on paper as opposed to on a screen. I worked through quite a lot of the details on paper, but when my ideas ran dry I decided to go home and check to see if the battery was more charged. When I arrived, I was happy to see that the power was back so I opened up the computer. However, it must have just come back because it only had a few minutes of power—then there was another blackout. To avoid becoming frustrated with the situation, I took a break and watched a little of Braveheart. The power did not come back, and I couldn’t think of anything to do without technology, so I went to bed very early—around 8PM.
Just as I was starting to fall asleep, all my lights turned on. I was tempted to sleep through it, but I had to get up and at least turn them off, in order to save power—it is very frowned upon to leave lights on unnecessarily. I decided to have some tea and check my mail, which is when I realized I had forgotten to call my parents. I called them, somewhat frustrated that I should have been asleep by now. Afterwards, I went to bed again and as I fell asleep, Jerry called me asking how my day was. I fell asleep again and I got another message and was up again on the computer. I’m a night owl; it seems like even if I go to bed early, people will assume I am up late due to the fact that I usually am. Next time I will turn off my phone.
Monday was a holiday (I never found out which one but I suppose it did not matter to me much), so I tried to seize the opportunity to FINALLY complete my outline. However, once again the power was lacking, so I did more work on my paper notebook instead of my electrical notebook. I began to panic. The outline was due today, there was no power, and I had to send it through email. The power eventually resumed at about 7PM so I worked fast to complete it by midnight, but I have learned a valuable work lesson: I cannot exist as the procrastinator in Kenya as I sometimes can in Canada. Blackouts are often unpredictable, but it is very important for me to be in front of the 8-ball instead of behind it.
My main task for the new work week (starting on Tuesday) was to expand the resource library. CREADIS has only had internet in the offices for a short time—I am unsure when it was installed—but it seemed to me that this great information source was not fully being utilized. People often browsed and checked their mail, but they did not seem to have a great computer resource library. Thank you to Olga and Doris for the great resources and ideas. I would spend the remainder of the week (once again) out of the field and working on my computer organizing tools and journal articles related to project areas. I became very happy working on this minor project because this information I give to CREADIS will (hopefully) be put into use long after I leave for Canada. In fact, a computer resource library is something that CREADIS can expand themselves—it kills no trees, it is costless, and I am working on ensuring that it will always be there no matter what disaster happens. This resource library will also help me greatly because it forces me to study topics such as: community mobilization, policy guidelines, and special considerations for OVCs.
I went home very satisfied from a long day’s work on the computer and got to my after-work routine. My day has been very systematic after work (good because I can handle things better, but maybe bad because I have less of a free spirit). I put on some music, boil some water for tea, sweep or mop the floors and then do any other cleaning that is necessary. Next, I check the water flow and top up my jerry-cans if the water is running cleanly (little did I know this would be the last day for a long time that water was present). As a side note, how the hell can it rain every day and the taps still not run? El Nino has apparently officially arrived, so why are people still becoming dehydrated. I can see the headline now: “Dehydrated Man Drowns”. I believe there is little utilization of rainwater in place; most water eventually just runs out into the Indian Ocean and becomes useless as it mixes with the salt water. My apartment complex is relatively posh compared to many places, but there is still no gutter—combine this with the lack of water from the bore hole and you can imagine my frustration. Back to my routine, I save the boiled water then go into town for dinner and any other miscellaneous items I need. When I arrive home I have a cup of tea and check my email (which takes about half an hour until good circumstances. I usually get a visitor every day or two, so I save some tea and bread in that case. After that, I am dead tired but try to force myself to complete work on this blog or my directed study.