Stories

I realized my last few post have been a bit ‘heavy’ so I thought I’d also update on the lighter side of things and share a few stories with you.

Since I moved to my new place at the University Farm, I have been living a bit outside of the actual town of Kisayani. Furthermore, since I make a lot of field visits I also thought that I could have use for a bicycle instead of paying for bodaboda motorbikes to take me everywhere.

I tried finding one to rent for a month, but bikes here are used heavily (most often to transport water) and I couldn’t find one to use on a constant basis. So instead I ended up buying a bike, with a friend of mine who split the cost. When I move I’ll leave it with him.

To shop for bikes, we had to go to Kibwezi. We looked around for a bit but I didn’t find any I really liked for a good price. The next day I gave my friend the money and entrusted him to bring me back a good one. He came back with a bike, but not any ordinary bike—a sturdy one made bike that everyone else has. Instead he brought back a mountain-bike (I use the word ‘mountain’ lightly). It came with all the bells and whistles (literally) including: bells, flags, front and rear lights, gears, horn, mirror and fenders. As if I didn’t already stick out enough here  …

"Long long ago...MEN of making bike have a DREAN..."

Anyway, this has been my casual means of transport over the past few weeks. So far I have had 5 flat tires, the horn has fallen apart, the flag blew away, and the lights don't work. One time I was riding and the handlebars nearly fell off. Needless to say, this was cheap Chinese-made bike. The label itself reads “Star Plan: Long ago…. Men of making bike have Drean”; whatever that is supposed to mean.

The bike has served me well though, and I get around on short distances. On the longer distances I have actually taken motorbike lessons and learned how to ride which has been a good side-result of my Star Plan shortcomings.

So cool

Another fun story from the past week I thought I’d share comes from a visit to a school I made. Another good friend of mine is a teacher (he also knows of my blog-hello!) at a school well off of the main road. Just this past week was the Kenyan National Examinations, a pretty big deal around here. All students finishing primary school and moving to secondary have to write standardized tests in English, Swahili, Science, Social Studies, etc.. The best of the best go to the top national schools while the bottom percentiles are held back or put it not so great schools. I went to visit his school the day before the examinations, a school that is 40 minutes out of Kisayani even more underdeveloped. The school was underfunded, understaffed, and has no water or electricity.

Once I arrived at the school I was introduced to the head-teacher showed around the school and I was able to greet the classes. At some points I was left to talk to the kids about Canada: what we eat and how cold it is there. The kids are unbelievably shy and would just inaudibly whisper their names if I asked them. After giving a few lectures on the wonders of Canada to the children I was called outside.

The head-teacher had arranged the entire school under a giant baobab tree, maybe 200 students from pre-school to standard 8. I was told I was supposed to give a speech to encourage the kids before their national examinations the next day.

Children eagerly awaiting my words of wisdom.

Not too surprised—having often been called out on the spot to give a sermon or in a church—but a little hesitant, I stood up and addressed the kids about the importance of education, and how I had spend the last 19 years of my life in school and how I too had written my fair share of exams. Since it was a very rural community, most relied on their 'mother-tongue' (Kamba) for their day-to-day language so I needed a local teacher to translate, which allowed me some pauses to figure out what to say next. Nonetheless I ended up at one point saying some stupid phrase like “knowledge is power”, to which the teacher got the kids to shout it and pump their fists in the air.

By the end of my speech I asked if anyone had a question for me. Since the kids were very shy I didn’t expect any. But one of the older children asked me “how old are you?” I told them I was 23. The kids all laughed at some of the older students. One of the teachers later told me that some of the 8^th graders were 22.

I also asked why these kids were so shy. The teachers explained to me that it was because many had not seen a white man before. Then the teacher in front of the whole crowd asks for show of hands ‘who has seen a mzungu?’ Less than a quarter put their hands up. Then one of the teachers thought it was a good idea to get each of the kids to greet me. So, they formed a queue and one-by-one I shook the hands of each of the 200 or so students.

Some speech that was.

Smile!

Other stories:

• slaughtered a goat

Don't know what it is, but it was under my bed.

• Killed 7 scorpions and a stinging centipede

Honey... with real bees, so you know it's fresh.

• Bought some fresh honey.

Corruption and Frustration

Nearly every time I drive south down the kibwezi-kitui road from my village of Kisayani to the town of Kibwezi, I get stopped by the traffic police. It is usually the same two men, dressed in their blue uniforms and black leather shoes, with a ticket-book in hand and usually with a stern look on their faces. They are putting on an act, looking for a bribe.

Since there are no cars in Kisayani I take bodabodas (motor-bike taxis) sometimes tripling even quadrupling up with others (sometimes goats too) to share the cost. Usually these drivers don’t have licenses, their bikes may be missing a light or two or aren’t registered and carry too many people. As a result the bodaboda is pulled over. But rather than ticketing the drivers slyly shakes hands with the driver who feeds them a bribe—usually 50bob (~$0.60). They look the other way and let us move on and I get dropped off.

This always boils my blood, and I usually have to restrain myself from saying something stupid and getting myself in trouble. It makes me furious that these policemen tasked with keeping and upholding the law are the very ones making a spectacle of it, sometimes even laughing when I ask them from the back of the motorbike “unafanya nini?” (What do you think you’re doing?). To me, they are stealing from the local people most of them what we could consider ‘poor’ and who don’t make a lot (especially now with the fuel costs so high) and eroding the foundation of law in the country. It is unjust.

"confusion" -- probably not a registered vehicle

While I don’t want to draw a negative picture of Kenya, I still feel the need to tell the truth and share my impressions. I see these injustices everywhere, in almost every level of government and society.

I have seen it on the most basic community level. The community project I am looking at—with ‘Christian’ in it’s name—is showing signs of inequality, corruption and mismanagement. Even the neighboring water project is facing a court case over broken relationships between the community and the project managers. Furthermore, the local District Water Officer is on a sort of ‘leave’ due to quieted accusations of stealing.

The corruption in the Kenyan government travels up the chain to even the highest positions of government. One of the most significant changes to the water project that has come in the past ten years has been the creation of the new Water Act. Amongst a whole heap of changes that went along with an overhaul of the entire water sector was the formulation of Water Service Boards, which are tasked with the responsibility to provide or allocate the provision of water to the people of Kenya.

In fact I just got back from a trip to Kitui where I met with some high level officials in the regional office for the Water Service Board in charge of the area I am in. While they were helpful and open to me, the leading officials in those offices are making headlines for embezzlement of funds exceeding 100 million KSH (more than $1 million) intended to support and construct water projects to serve the poor.

Also gripping the front pages of papers of the local papers are accusations against the Minister of Water herself for corruption.

But it is not only corruption. I see ‘injustices’ in many other places too. The area of Kibwezi has been undergone massive resettlement displacing many people. The very place I am living, the university farm and research station is 16,000 acre plot of land acquired from local people. Just down the road there is another 25,000 acre farm of prime agricultural land usual to grow the cash crop sisal for export. This is all in an area that has been labeled ‘in crisis’ by the UN due to drought and famine and is a recipient of food relief since it is not food-secure.

Two good friends.

As a researcher this is often frustrating and disheartening. I feel powerless, and in fact in almost every sense I am. I am not in a place of authority to correct these wrongs or in a place of power to be a donor to fund some other venture. Yet at the same time I feel an overwhelming sense of responsibility to the people here. Through my interviews, friendships, and daily interactions with people I empathize with their challenges, frustrations and hopes. And in so many ways I want to solve and fix them.

I often also feel a need to blame someone for this. Nearly every story I hear, it is someone (or something) else at fault: the corrupt civil servants, the local project management, the NGOs who seem to have abandoned this project, the massive restructuring of the water ministry that leaves to many grey areas, the local users abusing and misusing the water, the effects of climate change and those of us who unfairly contribute to it, or just the corruption in general which permeates all levels of society. In some sense, none alone are to blame and in another they [we] all are. I am learning a lot about the complexities of poverty, the importance of good leadership and relationships and standing up for what is just.

In the end I have to weed through all of these stories and find a sort of narrative, the story of this project and this community which can answer the research question of what has changed and how is the community adapting. I could have done my research with a survey, passed out 100 copies and returned in a month to pick them up. But instead I am gathering stories and getting involved. So in these last weeks in Kisayani I will soon head to Nairobi to meet with more influential decision makers and policy planners. I am attempting to put together the rest of the loose ends and eventually write a report. I have also made a promise to the community to share my preliminary thoughts on the research which will bring me back to Kisayani for a few days to share. I'm hoping for the right words to say and the ability to say 'I can't solve ___ problem' if needed.

A sentimental shot to close this depressing post

Rain and Famine

The rains in Kisayani have finally come. After a few night-time drizzles which most Kenyans insist were not real rains, hard rain has arrived. Farmers and their whole families are now busily plowing their fields and planting seeds. A transformation from a dreary brown and grey landscape to a rich red and green has already emerged as if it too was greatly anticipating the coming rains.

Along with the budding trees and plants have also come the bugs, a lot of them. To preface, I just recently moved residences from my old place (appropriately titled ‘white house’) to the University of Nairobi Research Station where they have a large farm and rangeland for a variety of research purposes, including hosting people like myself and my fellow Kenyan researcher, Njoki. Despite the $2/night bargain at my last place, it couldn’t beat the student rate of $0.30/day or $9 a month for a 2 room and full-bathroom place where I am now just outside of the main town of Kisayani.

Within a few hours...

One of the only downsides, along with no longer having as many neighbour children around to play with, is my place is situated on the edge of some grasslands, where insects and birds are thriving. When the rains came, the dormant eggs that had been waiting patiently for water hatched and on my first night in my new place I was swarmed by a variety of flying insects. Almost unable to sleep the first night, I asked my neighbour if this was going to last the entire rainy season, which he answered “yes”. Thankfully he was wrong. Each of the first nights brought forth a different wave of insects, but a week later they have died down significantly.

Mangoes

But more importantly, the farmers are busy. During all my interviews with local people, nearly all of which are farmers, I ask the question of whether or not the climate (rainfall, wind, seasons) is changing. With the odd exception, they tell me there is not only less rain today, but a different rains. In this area of Kenya there are two rainy seasons, a long (March-May) and a short rain (November-December). Decades ago there were also two rains, although both were reliable enough to get two harvests if possible. Today, farmers have begun planting during the short season (now) since even the long rains have become unreliable with days or weeks without rain. I have also attained rainfall data from a local sisal plantation and from the university station which seems to confirm the shifting climate patterns.

An irrigation scheme

The effect of this changing rainfall has delivered consistent drought in the area stunting the growth and productivity of many crops. Thus, the area in which I am situated is now a recipient of food aid coming from the Red Cross and other organizations. The same is true for much of Kenya and in some areas--namely the northern areas--famine is reoccurring in what was recently in the news.

Just before I arrived, the famine in Kenya, Somalia and Ethiopia were grabbing headlines as the Horn of Africa was experiencing the lowest levels of rainfall is almost 60 years. Failure of the long rains denied farmers their expected crops (food and income) and nomadic herders the grasses for their animals deteriorating their ability to access food. The Dadaab refugee camp (designed for 90,000), just across the border into Kenya, grew in size to nearly half a million people. And millions were and still are announced at being at risk of starvation. However, today even I find it difficult to see any news on the famine despite it still prevailing severely today.

A recent sand dam put up in along the Kisayani river

While I am no expert on the causes or solutions to famine, natural disasters cannot solely be held accountable for the famine. Skyrocketing food prices, population growth, environmental degradation, political instability, lack of infrastructure, a less spoken about land-grab, and other human-caused factors all come into play. For example, the famine is worst in Somalia where the Islamic militant group al-Shabaab (which Kenya has recently declared war with) has long tried to prevent Western aid organization from delivering relief and development services.

With the arrival of the short (but more reliable) rains throughout East Africa, we hope that the current situation will be relieved. It is difficult to write about such a daunting issue ridden with statistics and so reoccurring, but it is reality. What brings me hope (and in another sense dismay) is that this famine and food insecurity is largely human-caused. Therefore, in a large part these things can be dealt with and improved. Projects in communities such as the one I am looking at is just one example. Above are pictures of water and irrigation projects that are aimed at improving living standards and increasing food security additional to the piped water in Kisayani. There are many projects like these being done, not just in the community where I reside but throughout Kenya and the world. They are examples of solutions and innovations some implemented by Westerners, some by locals, and some by the Kenyan government. 

To me it is also a reminder of the value of the Kisayani Water Project and the need for the water in the pipes. Despite being just a researcher, unable to assist in any physical sense, I feel a responsibility to the people here. It can be frustrating to be doing academic research under a hefty research grant, when in many ways I want to be helping in a more tangible way. It gives me motivation however, to do a thorough job, speak to the right people, give recommendations and ensure that my research is shared with the community with the purpose of a sustainable future for water resources and this project.

A view looking over Kisayani