There’s quite a lot I could write about the recent departure of Kofi Annan and Graca Machel from the shores of Kenya. I could write about misguided faith in the judiciary. I could write about their level-headedness while the nation is screaming. I could write about the truth behind petty politicking for powerful positions. I could write about the fact that the nation is NOT divided at all; the divisions are created by the politicians for their own miserable ends. And so on, and so on.
But I am not going to write about any of this. It is too frustrating and almost brings tears to my eyes. A nation flounders while the rich drown in the fruits that belong to the people.
Instead, I am going to write (very briefly) about something that has just come to my attention ... through something said on Capital FM. It is vitally important to the future of this country:
The woman of Kenya need to get some dress-sense beyond the straight-laced grey, brown and black suits that they wear every day to work. Why is it that a nation of such beautiful women land up wearing such dreadfully dreary clothes to work? The point was noted on the radio and suddenly I was hit, like the proverbial bolt from the sky.
“That’s it”, I thought. “That’s why, despite all these beautiful women, everything looks so dull on the streets”.
As I have noted before, it happens at least once a day that I am struck by some woman’s beauty on the street. And Kenyan women know they have pride of place in the African beauty stakes, for sure. But why do they all dress so conservatively? I know it’s a church-going nation, for sure. But, hey, Jesus never said you can’t wear a bit of colour in your cloth …!
Sheesh. It has taken me an absolute age to realize the absolute dreariness of the fashions here. I am amazed I didn’t see it before. I must have been blinded by the ‘order of things’ in Kenya, and perhaps by the facial beauty of so many that live in this incredible country.
I mean, God populated Kenya with 42 tribes in a very particular way. Here are a few of his preferred choices:
He put the Kikuyu here to run things, and to make sure business boomed (despite the greed of the leadership).
He put the Luhya (and gave them a surly disposition) to work mainly in the police force. Never smiling, always seemingly miserable, they keep order on the roads particularly.
Then He put the Maasai to look after the cattle and goats (and also to prevent unwanted visitors at your home). And He thought the little colour they give the place would help (in the face of dreary fashion sense).
He put the Kamba here to look after the inside of your house and the garden. He also put some of them here to spread a little ju-ju when things get a bit too materialistic!
He put the Kisii here just to upset things every now and then with a temper tantrum. To help them he put the Meru – just in case anyone gets too big for their boots (the Meru arrogance usually sorts it).
He put the original Swahilis here just to smile on, benignly and knowingly (and to chew a lot of the miraa).
Then, finally, he dragged the Luo from the Nile basin and put the men here to buy the shiny suits and drive the Hummers (even when there’s no food at home). He even put one of them here so he could become president of the United States.
Then, in one of His last decisions, He put the Luo women here to keep the place looking goooooooood when all else fails.
He in His infinite wisdom.
If South Africa is the Rainbow Nation then Kenya is the Kaleidoscope.
What a beautiful country. Wild, for sure.
Beautiful people (lakini, kwanini hakuna fashion sense?).
But a fantastic place it is. I love it ...!
With that, amani na mapenzi to all.
B-)
Showing posts with label maasai. Show all posts
Showing posts with label maasai. Show all posts
Races and faces from various places (with apologies to Dr.Suess)
In the same way that Johannesburg is the melting pot of southern Africa, Nairobi is the melting pot for the whole East Africa region, being the most highly urbanized city in the region, and also bearing the same ingredients of plentiful crime and poverty that beset Johannesburg.
One regularly sees Somali, Ethiopian and Sudanese men and women plying their trade, or simply walking, on the streets of (particularly downtown) Nairobi. Eastleigh is the unofficial free-trade area for these people and driving in the area is fraught with duelling dusty busses that have just arrived from Mogadishu, Juba, and Addis Ababa. Somali women dressed in black are often refered to, jokingly, as "Isili" (as in 'Eastleigh')...
Ethiopian women (the younger ones) in Nairobi are sometimes seen wearing very long dreadlocks, and generalised legend has it that they are the most beautiful in this part of Africa. I can't say I always agree. There was a lone, fine-featured Ethiopian woman I saw at a club's 'Reggae Night' once. Her dreadlocks had obviously been growing since childhood and were wound around her head in a veritable ‘nest’ of hoops and swirling circles, with the occasional errant lock falling to the middle of her back. With a middle-Eastern, somewhat Judaic ‘look’, and semi-Caucasian skin tone, her hair was clearly a lot ‘softer’ than that of the Bantu-African peoples, and, in her case, had been bleached light brown by the sun.
The people of South Sudan are noticeable for their height and most are probably over six feet tall. The older men seem often to have trouble with their legs, perhaps because of this height. The Sudanese are a Nilotic people and their history runs parallel with the history of the Nile River Valley that starts at Lake Victoria. Many men from South Sudan (and much fewer women) are refugess from the fighting between the Dinka and Nuer tribes that seems to continue unabated, despite a few attempts at peace talks and mediation.
The diversity of what one sees in Nairobi covers all the above, aplenty. It is such that there is an abiding interest in who-is-who-in-the-Nairobi-zoo. Ambiguously-non-Bantu people (like, for example, a Somali woman not dressed in black) will walk past, and the comments will issue forth:
“… Somali…”
“… No, she’s Ethiopian”
“… Not tall enough to be Sudanese …”
“… No, she’s a Luo chick …”
(I jest but it's not that untrue)
One would notice Nairobi’s diversity that much more if it weren’t for the fact that so many people from neighbouring countries are not that distinct from Kenyans: On the whole this applies to the Bantu people of the region. For example, one won’t tell a Tanzanian from a Kenyan (I won’t tell, anyway) until the former starts to speak Swahili. I have noted before that it is a different Swahili, soft and lyrical. As I have noted too, the Ugandans are ‘bigger’ than the average Kenyan, and Ugandans speak Luganda, yet their ‘look’ is not that distinct that one readily sees the difference. Good looking men, on the whole.
It is among the non-Bantu people in this region that the differences are easy to see. The non-Bantu people are mainly ‘Nilotic’ in origin and in Kenya, first up are the Luo people who live (traditionally) on the ‘lake side’. They typically have the fabled ‘eyes of Cleopatra’. In Uganda, just the ‘other side’ of the lake, there are also Luo people. Initially this was surprising to me – and it was explained to me by reference to ‘travel’ - until I realized that the borders between the countries were drawn up by (largely ignorant) Colonists who saw nothing of the ethnic unity that existed across their imposed territoriality. The Luo of Kenya share exactly the same origins as the Luo of Uganda, the only difference today being that they have both undergone genetic changes as a result of their enforced association with other peoples (principally via the limitations imposed by the exigencies of cross-border travel). And in both countries, Luo surnames most often start with the letter “O”.
The Luo are known as 'proud people' and in Kenya, at least, there seems to have been very little deviation from the original genetic pool. They are particularly ‘dark’ in complexion – dark brown - but not quite the same dark colour as the ‘black’ African skin one sees in the west of the African continent. They are big people, and non-Luo women sometimes remark (slightly jealously) on the Luo women’s skin texture. Their skin is often very smooth and soft. The Nilotes of South Sudan (Nuer and Dinka tribes) are quite closely related to the Luo. The Luo, Dinka and Nuer peoples are all known as 'Lake Nilotes' as opposed to 'Plain Nilotes'.
The Plain Nilotes mainly comprise the Kalenjin, from where most of Kenya’s long-distance champions come, and the Maasai.
The Kalenjin, like the Maasai, are a 'warrior nation'. They are noted for smaller eyes and slight frame atop long, thin legs. Daniel Arap Moi, who was Kenya's president for 27 years, is Kalenjin and, at time of writing, 90-something and still very much alive.
Of course, this discussion of people in Kenya would not be complete without mentioning the Maasai. There are various ‘Maasai’ groups, all of which speak minor dialect variations of the Maa language. The Maasai are quite closely related to the Samburu and less so to the Turkana in the north of Kenya.
The Maasai of the Serengeti live on both sides of the Kenya-Tanzania border. On any day, one might find a few of them riding a bus from Arusha, Tanzania, to say, Namanga on the Kenyan side. When the bus is a little distance from the border, someone gets on to check their (usually shabby) travel papers (never a passport). When the bus stops at the border post, they don't get off but just wait for the bus to continue its ride, having already had their papers checked. The Serengeti is still their place and the drawing of arbitrary borders between Tanzania and Kenya never changed much for them.
The Samburu are often quite decorative in their dress. On special occasions (like when Moses the taxi driver came to my house for the first time), Samburu will be seen in full battle dress but also adorned with trinkets, bracelets, chains and talismans all over their person. It is exceptionally beautiful to see and it can be quite humbling to be in a Samburu’s presence.
The Maasai from the Mara seem to be more ‘down-to-earth’. They are pastoralists, famed for their drinking of blood and milk from the live cow. Some research I was exposed to recently cites the fact that the Maasai from Arusha liken the eating of vegetables to ‘being a goat’. It is not something they do with much gusto despite attempts by NGOs to counter rising malnutrition and develop a vegetable-eating habit among Maasai children.
These are bits of rural Kenya and surrounds that are seen in Nairobi. This, of course, says little of the rural Kenya that has remained the same for quite some time now. This is the Kenya that people call the ‘original Africa’… the image that comes to mind when one hears the Swahili word ‘safari’ (to travel). It is the land of lions (‘simba’ in Swahili), elephants, and plenty of giraffe. I have seen very little of this Kenya so far but we can only hope that it stays the way it is, at least until I get a chance to see it all! … Wild animals, warriors, tribes, and chieftainships.
So, what (really) is the point of all this writing? It is to say that Kenya is seriously diverse, and there’s a very high level of tolerance for other people and nations. People from all over Africa are seen regularly in Nairobi. Everyone is just getting on with life, doing their 'thing', whatever that is. Witnessing this is both illuminating and exciting (for me, anyway). The problems facing Kenya (internally) stem from an essential distrust between various of the resident people. That they have different ‘ethnic roots’ - on an 'ancient' scale - probably exacerbates the problems they experience.
It will all be okay in the end... it's all okaynow, really.
Peace and Love, Amani na Upendo, to everyone.
B-)
One regularly sees Somali, Ethiopian and Sudanese men and women plying their trade, or simply walking, on the streets of (particularly downtown) Nairobi. Eastleigh is the unofficial free-trade area for these people and driving in the area is fraught with duelling dusty busses that have just arrived from Mogadishu, Juba, and Addis Ababa. Somali women dressed in black are often refered to, jokingly, as "Isili" (as in 'Eastleigh')...
Ethiopian women (the younger ones) in Nairobi are sometimes seen wearing very long dreadlocks, and generalised legend has it that they are the most beautiful in this part of Africa. I can't say I always agree. There was a lone, fine-featured Ethiopian woman I saw at a club's 'Reggae Night' once. Her dreadlocks had obviously been growing since childhood and were wound around her head in a veritable ‘nest’ of hoops and swirling circles, with the occasional errant lock falling to the middle of her back. With a middle-Eastern, somewhat Judaic ‘look’, and semi-Caucasian skin tone, her hair was clearly a lot ‘softer’ than that of the Bantu-African peoples, and, in her case, had been bleached light brown by the sun.
The people of South Sudan are noticeable for their height and most are probably over six feet tall. The older men seem often to have trouble with their legs, perhaps because of this height. The Sudanese are a Nilotic people and their history runs parallel with the history of the Nile River Valley that starts at Lake Victoria. Many men from South Sudan (and much fewer women) are refugess from the fighting between the Dinka and Nuer tribes that seems to continue unabated, despite a few attempts at peace talks and mediation.
The diversity of what one sees in Nairobi covers all the above, aplenty. It is such that there is an abiding interest in who-is-who-in-the-Nairobi-zoo. Ambiguously-non-Bantu people (like, for example, a Somali woman not dressed in black) will walk past, and the comments will issue forth:
“… Somali…”
“… No, she’s Ethiopian”
“… Not tall enough to be Sudanese …”
“… No, she’s a Luo chick …”
(I jest but it's not that untrue)
One would notice Nairobi’s diversity that much more if it weren’t for the fact that so many people from neighbouring countries are not that distinct from Kenyans: On the whole this applies to the Bantu people of the region. For example, one won’t tell a Tanzanian from a Kenyan (I won’t tell, anyway) until the former starts to speak Swahili. I have noted before that it is a different Swahili, soft and lyrical. As I have noted too, the Ugandans are ‘bigger’ than the average Kenyan, and Ugandans speak Luganda, yet their ‘look’ is not that distinct that one readily sees the difference. Good looking men, on the whole.
It is among the non-Bantu people in this region that the differences are easy to see. The non-Bantu people are mainly ‘Nilotic’ in origin and in Kenya, first up are the Luo people who live (traditionally) on the ‘lake side’. They typically have the fabled ‘eyes of Cleopatra’. In Uganda, just the ‘other side’ of the lake, there are also Luo people. Initially this was surprising to me – and it was explained to me by reference to ‘travel’ - until I realized that the borders between the countries were drawn up by (largely ignorant) Colonists who saw nothing of the ethnic unity that existed across their imposed territoriality. The Luo of Kenya share exactly the same origins as the Luo of Uganda, the only difference today being that they have both undergone genetic changes as a result of their enforced association with other peoples (principally via the limitations imposed by the exigencies of cross-border travel). And in both countries, Luo surnames most often start with the letter “O”.The Luo are known as 'proud people' and in Kenya, at least, there seems to have been very little deviation from the original genetic pool. They are particularly ‘dark’ in complexion – dark brown - but not quite the same dark colour as the ‘black’ African skin one sees in the west of the African continent. They are big people, and non-Luo women sometimes remark (slightly jealously) on the Luo women’s skin texture. Their skin is often very smooth and soft. The Nilotes of South Sudan (Nuer and Dinka tribes) are quite closely related to the Luo. The Luo, Dinka and Nuer peoples are all known as 'Lake Nilotes' as opposed to 'Plain Nilotes'.
The Plain Nilotes mainly comprise the Kalenjin, from where most of Kenya’s long-distance champions come, and the Maasai.
The Kalenjin, like the Maasai, are a 'warrior nation'. They are noted for smaller eyes and slight frame atop long, thin legs. Daniel Arap Moi, who was Kenya's president for 27 years, is Kalenjin and, at time of writing, 90-something and still very much alive.
Of course, this discussion of people in Kenya would not be complete without mentioning the Maasai. There are various ‘Maasai’ groups, all of which speak minor dialect variations of the Maa language. The Maasai are quite closely related to the Samburu and less so to the Turkana in the north of Kenya.
The Maasai of the Serengeti live on both sides of the Kenya-Tanzania border. On any day, one might find a few of them riding a bus from Arusha, Tanzania, to say, Namanga on the Kenyan side. When the bus is a little distance from the border, someone gets on to check their (usually shabby) travel papers (never a passport). When the bus stops at the border post, they don't get off but just wait for the bus to continue its ride, having already had their papers checked. The Serengeti is still their place and the drawing of arbitrary borders between Tanzania and Kenya never changed much for them.
The Samburu are often quite decorative in their dress. On special occasions (like when Moses the taxi driver came to my house for the first time), Samburu will be seen in full battle dress but also adorned with trinkets, bracelets, chains and talismans all over their person. It is exceptionally beautiful to see and it can be quite humbling to be in a Samburu’s presence.
The Maasai from the Mara seem to be more ‘down-to-earth’. They are pastoralists, famed for their drinking of blood and milk from the live cow. Some research I was exposed to recently cites the fact that the Maasai from Arusha liken the eating of vegetables to ‘being a goat’. It is not something they do with much gusto despite attempts by NGOs to counter rising malnutrition and develop a vegetable-eating habit among Maasai children.
These are bits of rural Kenya and surrounds that are seen in Nairobi. This, of course, says little of the rural Kenya that has remained the same for quite some time now. This is the Kenya that people call the ‘original Africa’… the image that comes to mind when one hears the Swahili word ‘safari’ (to travel). It is the land of lions (‘simba’ in Swahili), elephants, and plenty of giraffe. I have seen very little of this Kenya so far but we can only hope that it stays the way it is, at least until I get a chance to see it all! … Wild animals, warriors, tribes, and chieftainships.
So, what (really) is the point of all this writing? It is to say that Kenya is seriously diverse, and there’s a very high level of tolerance for other people and nations. People from all over Africa are seen regularly in Nairobi. Everyone is just getting on with life, doing their 'thing', whatever that is. Witnessing this is both illuminating and exciting (for me, anyway). The problems facing Kenya (internally) stem from an essential distrust between various of the resident people. That they have different ‘ethnic roots’ - on an 'ancient' scale - probably exacerbates the problems they experience.
It will all be okay in the end... it's all okaynow, really.
Peace and Love, Amani na Upendo, to everyone.
B-)
Alive with possibilities ...
Brenda is a self-proclaimed “reggae-chick”. This means she has a date downtown on a Wednesday night, with the throng of Nairobi’s reggae lovers. She starts getting herself ready at around 10 on a Wednesday. Then I know she’s going down to Madhouse for a few hours, even if I’m not going.
On Wednesday night we were both at Reggae Night. I didn’t dance because I’m getting a bit bored with hearing much the same music week-after-week (there’s obviously no new reggae coming into Nairobi). But I relaxed, and enjoyed the old tracks anyway. Brenda danced a few lacklustre times, being similarly bored.
I just lounged, and watched the passing parade (listening to regular features of Lucky Dube tracks). We got there early, and we left much earlier than usual …
But a little before this …
There I was, chilling, doing a bit of a slouch on the couch, making a backrest of Brenda’s long limbs, when I heard her exclaim something in rapid, unintelligible Swahili.
I caught only the last word.
It was ….. “... Maasai!”
I looked in the general direction of her pointed exclamation and saw ‘it’ …
Long bare legs, very thin, and skin the colour of ash. He wore beaded bracelets around both ankles. His feet were bare but for a pair of hand-made Maasai ‘treads’. He was wearing one of those knitted caps, worn in Jamaica, shaped like a top-hat. He sported a black regulation-style vest, Maasai-midi-blanket and a long cream jacket modestly covering his calves. His face reminded me of the meerkat in The Lion King, small and round. His thick dreadlocks were spiraling out of control from under the hat.
He stood around for a minute and went to dance almost immediately. Facing me, I could see thick rows of Maasai beads, in multiple arrays around his neck. At the bottom of one necklace was a small gourd of sorts.
Brenda saw it first and exclaimed, slightly under her breath:
“Maasai Rasta Ju-Ju Man !!! ..... HeHeeeeeeeeeeyyy, Baba!”
The real deal folks. And dancing with the coolest, nonchalant style I have seen in a while.
The Madhouse dancefloor was being pounded with amorphous low frequencies. Everyone was rocking with the Maasai. He started taking the coat off - revealing the vest, and even more beaded necklaces. He kind of let the coat hang on his elbows, seemingly wondering if he should reveal all.
Brenda and I stood transfixed at this apparition before us. She has never seen anything like it in Nairobi. And certainly neither have I (my best so far is the Maasai in Ngong town using his mobile – picture at bottom of previous blog)
But I think the Maasai Rasta Ju-Ju Man got a bit self-conscious from the stares engulfing him. He quickly replaced the jacket and left the dancefloor, not to be seen again.
Where else but in Kenya? Just one of the reasons why I love this place so much.
All I can say right now is "Yes, weekend!"
Have a good one, all.
B-)
On Wednesday night we were both at Reggae Night. I didn’t dance because I’m getting a bit bored with hearing much the same music week-after-week (there’s obviously no new reggae coming into Nairobi). But I relaxed, and enjoyed the old tracks anyway. Brenda danced a few lacklustre times, being similarly bored.
I just lounged, and watched the passing parade (listening to regular features of Lucky Dube tracks). We got there early, and we left much earlier than usual …
But a little before this …
There I was, chilling, doing a bit of a slouch on the couch, making a backrest of Brenda’s long limbs, when I heard her exclaim something in rapid, unintelligible Swahili.
I caught only the last word.
It was ….. “... Maasai!”
I looked in the general direction of her pointed exclamation and saw ‘it’ …
Long bare legs, very thin, and skin the colour of ash. He wore beaded bracelets around both ankles. His feet were bare but for a pair of hand-made Maasai ‘treads’. He was wearing one of those knitted caps, worn in Jamaica, shaped like a top-hat. He sported a black regulation-style vest, Maasai-midi-blanket and a long cream jacket modestly covering his calves. His face reminded me of the meerkat in The Lion King, small and round. His thick dreadlocks were spiraling out of control from under the hat.
He stood around for a minute and went to dance almost immediately. Facing me, I could see thick rows of Maasai beads, in multiple arrays around his neck. At the bottom of one necklace was a small gourd of sorts.
Brenda saw it first and exclaimed, slightly under her breath:
“Maasai Rasta Ju-Ju Man !!! ..... HeHeeeeeeeeeeyyy, Baba!”
The real deal folks. And dancing with the coolest, nonchalant style I have seen in a while.
The Madhouse dancefloor was being pounded with amorphous low frequencies. Everyone was rocking with the Maasai. He started taking the coat off - revealing the vest, and even more beaded necklaces. He kind of let the coat hang on his elbows, seemingly wondering if he should reveal all.
Brenda and I stood transfixed at this apparition before us. She has never seen anything like it in Nairobi. And certainly neither have I (my best so far is the Maasai in Ngong town using his mobile – picture at bottom of previous blog)
But I think the Maasai Rasta Ju-Ju Man got a bit self-conscious from the stares engulfing him. He quickly replaced the jacket and left the dancefloor, not to be seen again.
Where else but in Kenya? Just one of the reasons why I love this place so much.
All I can say right now is "Yes, weekend!"
Have a good one, all.
B-)
The Kenya We Want!
You haven’t heard much from me lately because I have been working very hard over the last two weeks. I have been starting work at 9am, leaving the office at 7pm, only to continue working at home from 9pm again! It has certainly restricted my writing time. But when the muse visits there’s no alternative but to write, write, write!
This particular blog was promising to be something of an Epic Tale. But it seems that the tale of intrigue I was hoping to write simply refuses to resolve itself (and remains intriguing!). It will have to wait until the time is right. And so, I have to desist to the will of the gods and leave that blog alone for now. It will out when it will.
Meantime, with my proposal-writing at work, my little recent exposure to Kenya’s news media, and my observation of local distaste in the mouths of many, I have been led to even more sober thoughts about Kenya.
First up is my recurrent concern for the issue of Female Genital Mutilation (FGM) in East and Sub-Saharan Africa.
FGM was outlawed in the Sudan last week sometime (see blog: “Two Things That Bother Me”).
Hongera (congratulations) Sudan, for entering the 21st Century! I am sure there are a lot of young girls breathing a very deep sigh of relief in your country right now – although the extent to which the banning will be enforced remains to be seen.
But I mention the Sudan’s brave action here, only because we need to know that FGM is definitely not outlawed in Kenya yet!
In a speech marking Jamhuri (Independence) Day, on 12th December 2001, President Daniel Arap Moi, Independent Kenya’s second-only President, declared the ‘circumcision’ of girls under the age of 17 unlawful, punishable by at least a year in jail. However, for girls over 16, it remained a ‘matter of choice’. Moi did at least give the girls some measure of legal protection and promised the support of the law for those ‘who do not wish to be cut’. Yet despite the start of some moral opprobrium, the practice remains widespread. I have already blogged the fact that no less than 260 girls absconded from a village near here in December, simply in order to avoid ‘the cut’.
A 1998 Kenya survey found that 30% of women between 15 and 49 had been ‘cut’. That is nearly one in three (even with likely significant under-reporting of its incidence by victims)! And it doesn’t seem to be restricted to rural areas either.
Thankfully, various Christian organisations and NGO’s are working towards its eradication, but this in the rural areas mainly. And quite a lot of anti-FGM work is being conducted among the Maasai, in an effort to end its widespread and enduring practice within this ‘preserved’ tribal group. And I hope soon to be able to schedule a trip to Arusha (‘homeland’ of the Maasai), allied to another piece of social research we have proposed. This should give me some space to gauge what is actually being achieved in terms of its eradication among the Maasai people (if we get to do the proposed research that is).
As I mentioned in a brief note the other day, my research team has also just written a (very good) proposal for the conduct of large-scale research into FGM and into the potential means of its stigmatization and eradication in Kenya. Obviously, I seriously hope we get this work too. Actually, so confident am I that we will get the work that I have just employed an M.A. in Gender Studies to take over the study (and some of the other ‘social’ research that we are increasingly being asked to propose). So, if circumstances (not circumcisions) permit, we are certainly going to do our little bit to have this gender-outrage depart the East African region for good.
From increasingly vocal accounts, it certainly seems that the time for the end of this ‘idea’ has come. I have no doubt that the practice imposes severe suffering and, I suspect, subjugation, among its hapless victims. It is high time for this practice to go, whatever the cultural and historical reasons for its entrenched and continued practice…
That’s my bit, yet again, on the subject of FGM in Kenya. Yet however passionate I might be about it, the issue of FGM is not in the very dim spotlight of Kenya’s civil society.
The importance of FGM eradication, as might otherwise be espoused by Kenya’s intelligentsia, is insignificant in their view. They seem more ‘concerned’ – nay, almost exclusively concerned - by the pervasive corruption that is eating away at every facet of Kenyan politics and that infests just about every government department. Almost every day there are corruption charges, or rumours of corruption, mentioned in the press.
But Kenyans actually have little to add once the press is done with their one-day coverage of some new corruption innuendo. And with this being the case, if there is actually any spotlight being wielded by civil society in Kenya, I believe it should first be set to highlight Kenyan civil society’s own apathy and lack of political resolve…
Almost every mature, educated and ‘concerned’ Kenyan I have met (and I have met a few now) exudes an entrenched air of gloomy resignation about the current, and future, of Kenyan politics. No-one (that I can see, at least) is standing up to say, “We want change, and we want it now”. Everyone just seems to mutter under his or her breath about the evils of local corruption and incompetent governance.
But where’s the activism in this country? Where are the people who are willing to make sacrifices, and suffer a bit, for the common good? Where are the idealists and quiet revolutionaries? Where are the Sarafinas and the Hector Petersen’s (although I don’t think it’ll ever need to go that far in Kenya)?
Is everyone perhaps just a little too comfortable in the warm glow of the status quo? If we can claim that there is a problem here (is there, folks?), I believe a large part of it lies at the feet of Kenyans themselves! Kenyans are simply too happy, or, at least, satisfied, with their lot. On the whole, they would rather go out and have a good time than get involved in the potential threats inherent in local politics! Politics they leave to the aged, old-school geezers of their fathers’ era.
So far, the only significant statements of dissatisfaction, or even knowledge, of the sorry state of State corruption have had to come from mzungus. Past British High Commissioner, Sir Edward Clay took the initiative a while ago and accused the Kenyan government of behaving “like gluttons”, eating the money meant for the Kenyan people, and then “vomiting on the shoes of donors”. This caused a huge furor and placed Sir Edward seriously in it. He apologized, saying something to effect of not meaning any insult. I wonder what he might have said if he did mean an insult? His Liberal Party successor, Sir Jeffrey James, followed suit with musing and muttering, only to be accused by President Moi, upon his retirement, of being a ‘meddler’ in local politics.
At a recent ‘briefing’ on East African politics and economics at the stunning Serena Hotel in Nairobi, Jane spoke warmly and easily with Sir Jeffrey. He is currently ‘on business’ in the East Africa region and is apparently still on the Kenya government’s list of ‘undesirables’. I would love to have had a word with him about the unhappy state of this nation but I didn’t get the honour of an introduction to his esteemed person. I waited in the wings until Jane was finished and then we filed into the dining room for lunch…
So far (to my limited knowledge) it has only been these two mzungu expats who have had anything significant to say about the government’s hungry disposition in Kenya. For the rest, there’s been a deathly silence. The Americans seized the opportunity that Kenya’s spat with Britain had created and quickly strengthened its trade ties!
So, on a day-to-day basis, one might see a few column-centimeters of coverage on some alleged corruption in one or all of the daily papers. Then it disappears from the pages of the press. If the scandal is big enough, the government will waste no time! It will appoint a commission, comprising those responsible for the corruption, with the task of investigating it!
But one has to ask, are there reasons for a lack of activism here? Official stats tell us there’s a ratio of one policeman for every 1000 Kenyans. That’s a lot of policemen. And considering that most of the Po-Lease force is probably located in the urban areas, that is a very lot of policemen! You see them all over; walking with their machine guns slung casually over their shoulders or held over their arms. But, again, you generally don’t get the impression of living in a police state as one once did in South Africa. But if called upon, I guess that a large scale mobilization of the said force in the cities would produce a very significant show of strength, and enough to quell just about any insurrection of ‘concerned’ Kenyans. That’s probably the real reason they are so evident on the streets. But I doubt the show of strength will ever really be needed…
The Kenyan police are certainly a source of derision (for never wanting anything else but a bribe), but they are also the object of fear and loathing. I haven’t got the details but the latest is that some of their number have been caught trigger-fingered, taking the (lack of rule-of-)law into their own hands. They have been gunning down innocent people. I have previously remarked on the fact that the police here shoot to kill and many a ‘suspected’ gangster has met his untimely demise at the smoking end of an AK47 (or similar). Ever since the Minister of Security gave permission for the police to fire at will, and with lethal intent, upon members of the notorious Mungiki gang (who, incidentally, number 2 million!), I fear that a lot of fairly innocent dissenters have lost their lives. But we’ll never know, will we? But there is a fresh scandal brewing if I am to believe the news I heard in Kiss FM today. Watch this space!
But, again, it seems to me that Kenyans of all shapes and sizes, all classes, and all measures of political influence, are so mired in apathy and borderline depression that really not much is likely to happen in the foreseeable future. It’s a sorry state of affairs and I think it’s going to be decades before this country is “free at last”. If you spend a little time with people of standing and influence in this society you hear the same gripe about government corruption, over and over. But you hear of no-ones plans or dreams of changing it all. There is nothing but a gloomy resignation and cynicism everywhere.
The role of the media in effecting social change has so far not been highlighted by anyone within civil society either. There aren’t any political ‘agitators’ within the journalist class that I know of. No-one ever appears in the media with a voice of proper dissent or opposition! Certainly, there’s no one that I see ready to stand up and be counted on the issues of importance to Kenya right now. It seems that the only true statements on the uneasy state of Kenyan politics came from the two mzungu expatriates!
Remember in South Africa how the birth of the Weekly Mail sparked a vision among the country’s journalists that then led to the publishing of the New Nation and then, later, Die Vrye Weekblad? They were all newspapers openly devoted to the subversion and ultimate toppling of the Apartheid regime. They made no bones about it and published what they could under a much greater threat of individual persecution and business closure than exists here. The papers had their tribulations and dissenters. The New Nation didn’t survive the onslaught. But the Weekly Mail (now Mail & Guardian) did, and survives today, rather unfortunately, as a rather dry and academic paper. But it certainly did serve its purpose, along with the others at the time.
And I can’t help but think that, with Kenya’s Media Amendment Bill currently in for revision, now is surely the time for the media to start agitating about something. Anything! While it is being amended, one could surely make the constitutional argument that there exists a de facto suspension of some, or all, of its clauses? Yet the media bosses will say that they can’t say anything, despite their intimate knowledge of what is actually going on right now. Aside from random expressions of audience disillusionment on only one radio frequency (to my limited knowledge), there is no campaign of any description that might permit Kenyans to get more than the government they currently deserve! (Who was it that said every country gets the government they deserve?)
Kiss 100 are doing a bit of agitation but so far it’s the only medium I have heard or seen doing anything at all about the perilous state of media and public freedoms in this country. On the morning show, the two presenters are not particularly scared… (and it’s heartening to hear!)
In response to the resistance of MP’s to pay tax, they say things like;
“I’m so-and-so (female ‘morning drive time’ presenter) and I’m a tax payer!”
“I’m so-and-so (male ‘morning drive time’ presenter) and I’m a tax payer”
“The TAX PAYERS ARE IN THE HOUSE!”
It’s a small something, but I respect and admire the little bit they are trying to do to conscientise the Kenyan public. But aside from what’s on Kiss in the morning, there is NOTHING being said anywhere else!
Where are the Kenyan Leaders? Among locals, their deep-rooted cynicism gets excused as ‘past experience’, ‘hard-earned knowledge’ and the like. Some of society’s leaders and agents of change have indeed been harassed and persecuted. But so what? Kenya needs more people standing up, making at least some noise! Unless someone takes an initial firm stand on the way things should be – or at least what needs to stop – nothing will ever change in your country, people of Kenya!
You have such a beautiful country, with such lovely people! This is not how it is supposed to be for you now, in a world where freedom is breaking out everywhere, unchecked!
And as for your ‘new’ constitution … It will land up being nothing but a rehash of the old. Let’s face it; you’re not likely to see any radical – or even ‘new’ - clauses being introduced while the current government is in charge of its drafting.
But Kenya, your government has better strategies than you think! The upcoming conference on the “Kenya We Want” is being hosted by the same government that is so much in dispute. Who is ever going to raise the real issue at this meeting? Must I come along and have a say in your stead, people of Kenya? Do I need to give new meaning to the term “lip service”? I hope it will not be necessary. I need my job.
But I guess Kibaki’s government has hatched a clever strategy to subvert the influence of anyone else in matters of free, sound governance. The “Kenya We Want” conference is, at least, being handled by the significantly more open-minded Prime Minister, Raila Odinga. But as we know, he’s paid from the same account as any other minister (to the tune of Kshs 1.4 million a month). And so Kenyans, you’ll be stuck with the same old, same old. It’s coming (or not coming, as the case may be?), and then you’ll be moaning for the next twenty years!
Until someone actually does something and stops just moaning about the way things are, nothing will change. A critical mass of dissent needs to be formed. Now! While everyone is sitting tjoep stil (dead quiet) on the issues, nothing will happen. The time is now, Kenya! Kenya Awethu!
Democracy is supposed to be government ‘for the people, by the people’. Not here, folks. No sirree. Kenya’s government is a carefully orchestrated symphony of cabalism where only the elite know the tune of the day, the secret handshake, the true meaning of the conductor’s baton-swing!
Kenya, a new world is possible for you! But only if you take a few tentative steps, at the very least, towards it realization.
Another world is not only possible, she is on her way.
On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.
Arundhati Roy, Porto Alegre, Brazil, January 27, 2003
Peace and love everyone.
B-)
This particular blog was promising to be something of an Epic Tale. But it seems that the tale of intrigue I was hoping to write simply refuses to resolve itself (and remains intriguing!). It will have to wait until the time is right. And so, I have to desist to the will of the gods and leave that blog alone for now. It will out when it will.
Meantime, with my proposal-writing at work, my little recent exposure to Kenya’s news media, and my observation of local distaste in the mouths of many, I have been led to even more sober thoughts about Kenya.
First up is my recurrent concern for the issue of Female Genital Mutilation (FGM) in East and Sub-Saharan Africa.
FGM was outlawed in the Sudan last week sometime (see blog: “Two Things That Bother Me”).
Hongera (congratulations) Sudan, for entering the 21st Century! I am sure there are a lot of young girls breathing a very deep sigh of relief in your country right now – although the extent to which the banning will be enforced remains to be seen.
But I mention the Sudan’s brave action here, only because we need to know that FGM is definitely not outlawed in Kenya yet!
In a speech marking Jamhuri (Independence) Day, on 12th December 2001, President Daniel Arap Moi, Independent Kenya’s second-only President, declared the ‘circumcision’ of girls under the age of 17 unlawful, punishable by at least a year in jail. However, for girls over 16, it remained a ‘matter of choice’. Moi did at least give the girls some measure of legal protection and promised the support of the law for those ‘who do not wish to be cut’. Yet despite the start of some moral opprobrium, the practice remains widespread. I have already blogged the fact that no less than 260 girls absconded from a village near here in December, simply in order to avoid ‘the cut’.
A 1998 Kenya survey found that 30% of women between 15 and 49 had been ‘cut’. That is nearly one in three (even with likely significant under-reporting of its incidence by victims)! And it doesn’t seem to be restricted to rural areas either.
Thankfully, various Christian organisations and NGO’s are working towards its eradication, but this in the rural areas mainly. And quite a lot of anti-FGM work is being conducted among the Maasai, in an effort to end its widespread and enduring practice within this ‘preserved’ tribal group. And I hope soon to be able to schedule a trip to Arusha (‘homeland’ of the Maasai), allied to another piece of social research we have proposed. This should give me some space to gauge what is actually being achieved in terms of its eradication among the Maasai people (if we get to do the proposed research that is).
As I mentioned in a brief note the other day, my research team has also just written a (very good) proposal for the conduct of large-scale research into FGM and into the potential means of its stigmatization and eradication in Kenya. Obviously, I seriously hope we get this work too. Actually, so confident am I that we will get the work that I have just employed an M.A. in Gender Studies to take over the study (and some of the other ‘social’ research that we are increasingly being asked to propose). So, if circumstances (not circumcisions) permit, we are certainly going to do our little bit to have this gender-outrage depart the East African region for good.
From increasingly vocal accounts, it certainly seems that the time for the end of this ‘idea’ has come. I have no doubt that the practice imposes severe suffering and, I suspect, subjugation, among its hapless victims. It is high time for this practice to go, whatever the cultural and historical reasons for its entrenched and continued practice…
That’s my bit, yet again, on the subject of FGM in Kenya. Yet however passionate I might be about it, the issue of FGM is not in the very dim spotlight of Kenya’s civil society.
The importance of FGM eradication, as might otherwise be espoused by Kenya’s intelligentsia, is insignificant in their view. They seem more ‘concerned’ – nay, almost exclusively concerned - by the pervasive corruption that is eating away at every facet of Kenyan politics and that infests just about every government department. Almost every day there are corruption charges, or rumours of corruption, mentioned in the press.
But Kenyans actually have little to add once the press is done with their one-day coverage of some new corruption innuendo. And with this being the case, if there is actually any spotlight being wielded by civil society in Kenya, I believe it should first be set to highlight Kenyan civil society’s own apathy and lack of political resolve…
Almost every mature, educated and ‘concerned’ Kenyan I have met (and I have met a few now) exudes an entrenched air of gloomy resignation about the current, and future, of Kenyan politics. No-one (that I can see, at least) is standing up to say, “We want change, and we want it now”. Everyone just seems to mutter under his or her breath about the evils of local corruption and incompetent governance.
But where’s the activism in this country? Where are the people who are willing to make sacrifices, and suffer a bit, for the common good? Where are the idealists and quiet revolutionaries? Where are the Sarafinas and the Hector Petersen’s (although I don’t think it’ll ever need to go that far in Kenya)?
Is everyone perhaps just a little too comfortable in the warm glow of the status quo? If we can claim that there is a problem here (is there, folks?), I believe a large part of it lies at the feet of Kenyans themselves! Kenyans are simply too happy, or, at least, satisfied, with their lot. On the whole, they would rather go out and have a good time than get involved in the potential threats inherent in local politics! Politics they leave to the aged, old-school geezers of their fathers’ era.
So far, the only significant statements of dissatisfaction, or even knowledge, of the sorry state of State corruption have had to come from mzungus. Past British High Commissioner, Sir Edward Clay took the initiative a while ago and accused the Kenyan government of behaving “like gluttons”, eating the money meant for the Kenyan people, and then “vomiting on the shoes of donors”. This caused a huge furor and placed Sir Edward seriously in it. He apologized, saying something to effect of not meaning any insult. I wonder what he might have said if he did mean an insult? His Liberal Party successor, Sir Jeffrey James, followed suit with musing and muttering, only to be accused by President Moi, upon his retirement, of being a ‘meddler’ in local politics.
At a recent ‘briefing’ on East African politics and economics at the stunning Serena Hotel in Nairobi, Jane spoke warmly and easily with Sir Jeffrey. He is currently ‘on business’ in the East Africa region and is apparently still on the Kenya government’s list of ‘undesirables’. I would love to have had a word with him about the unhappy state of this nation but I didn’t get the honour of an introduction to his esteemed person. I waited in the wings until Jane was finished and then we filed into the dining room for lunch…
So far (to my limited knowledge) it has only been these two mzungu expats who have had anything significant to say about the government’s hungry disposition in Kenya. For the rest, there’s been a deathly silence. The Americans seized the opportunity that Kenya’s spat with Britain had created and quickly strengthened its trade ties!
So, on a day-to-day basis, one might see a few column-centimeters of coverage on some alleged corruption in one or all of the daily papers. Then it disappears from the pages of the press. If the scandal is big enough, the government will waste no time! It will appoint a commission, comprising those responsible for the corruption, with the task of investigating it!
But one has to ask, are there reasons for a lack of activism here? Official stats tell us there’s a ratio of one policeman for every 1000 Kenyans. That’s a lot of policemen. And considering that most of the Po-Lease force is probably located in the urban areas, that is a very lot of policemen! You see them all over; walking with their machine guns slung casually over their shoulders or held over their arms. But, again, you generally don’t get the impression of living in a police state as one once did in South Africa. But if called upon, I guess that a large scale mobilization of the said force in the cities would produce a very significant show of strength, and enough to quell just about any insurrection of ‘concerned’ Kenyans. That’s probably the real reason they are so evident on the streets. But I doubt the show of strength will ever really be needed…
The Kenyan police are certainly a source of derision (for never wanting anything else but a bribe), but they are also the object of fear and loathing. I haven’t got the details but the latest is that some of their number have been caught trigger-fingered, taking the (lack of rule-of-)law into their own hands. They have been gunning down innocent people. I have previously remarked on the fact that the police here shoot to kill and many a ‘suspected’ gangster has met his untimely demise at the smoking end of an AK47 (or similar). Ever since the Minister of Security gave permission for the police to fire at will, and with lethal intent, upon members of the notorious Mungiki gang (who, incidentally, number 2 million!), I fear that a lot of fairly innocent dissenters have lost their lives. But we’ll never know, will we? But there is a fresh scandal brewing if I am to believe the news I heard in Kiss FM today. Watch this space!
But, again, it seems to me that Kenyans of all shapes and sizes, all classes, and all measures of political influence, are so mired in apathy and borderline depression that really not much is likely to happen in the foreseeable future. It’s a sorry state of affairs and I think it’s going to be decades before this country is “free at last”. If you spend a little time with people of standing and influence in this society you hear the same gripe about government corruption, over and over. But you hear of no-ones plans or dreams of changing it all. There is nothing but a gloomy resignation and cynicism everywhere.
The role of the media in effecting social change has so far not been highlighted by anyone within civil society either. There aren’t any political ‘agitators’ within the journalist class that I know of. No-one ever appears in the media with a voice of proper dissent or opposition! Certainly, there’s no one that I see ready to stand up and be counted on the issues of importance to Kenya right now. It seems that the only true statements on the uneasy state of Kenyan politics came from the two mzungu expatriates!
Remember in South Africa how the birth of the Weekly Mail sparked a vision among the country’s journalists that then led to the publishing of the New Nation and then, later, Die Vrye Weekblad? They were all newspapers openly devoted to the subversion and ultimate toppling of the Apartheid regime. They made no bones about it and published what they could under a much greater threat of individual persecution and business closure than exists here. The papers had their tribulations and dissenters. The New Nation didn’t survive the onslaught. But the Weekly Mail (now Mail & Guardian) did, and survives today, rather unfortunately, as a rather dry and academic paper. But it certainly did serve its purpose, along with the others at the time.
And I can’t help but think that, with Kenya’s Media Amendment Bill currently in for revision, now is surely the time for the media to start agitating about something. Anything! While it is being amended, one could surely make the constitutional argument that there exists a de facto suspension of some, or all, of its clauses? Yet the media bosses will say that they can’t say anything, despite their intimate knowledge of what is actually going on right now. Aside from random expressions of audience disillusionment on only one radio frequency (to my limited knowledge), there is no campaign of any description that might permit Kenyans to get more than the government they currently deserve! (Who was it that said every country gets the government they deserve?)
Kiss 100 are doing a bit of agitation but so far it’s the only medium I have heard or seen doing anything at all about the perilous state of media and public freedoms in this country. On the morning show, the two presenters are not particularly scared… (and it’s heartening to hear!)
In response to the resistance of MP’s to pay tax, they say things like;
“I’m so-and-so (female ‘morning drive time’ presenter) and I’m a tax payer!”
“I’m so-and-so (male ‘morning drive time’ presenter) and I’m a tax payer”
“The TAX PAYERS ARE IN THE HOUSE!”
It’s a small something, but I respect and admire the little bit they are trying to do to conscientise the Kenyan public. But aside from what’s on Kiss in the morning, there is NOTHING being said anywhere else!
Where are the Kenyan Leaders? Among locals, their deep-rooted cynicism gets excused as ‘past experience’, ‘hard-earned knowledge’ and the like. Some of society’s leaders and agents of change have indeed been harassed and persecuted. But so what? Kenya needs more people standing up, making at least some noise! Unless someone takes an initial firm stand on the way things should be – or at least what needs to stop – nothing will ever change in your country, people of Kenya!
You have such a beautiful country, with such lovely people! This is not how it is supposed to be for you now, in a world where freedom is breaking out everywhere, unchecked!
And as for your ‘new’ constitution … It will land up being nothing but a rehash of the old. Let’s face it; you’re not likely to see any radical – or even ‘new’ - clauses being introduced while the current government is in charge of its drafting.
But Kenya, your government has better strategies than you think! The upcoming conference on the “Kenya We Want” is being hosted by the same government that is so much in dispute. Who is ever going to raise the real issue at this meeting? Must I come along and have a say in your stead, people of Kenya? Do I need to give new meaning to the term “lip service”? I hope it will not be necessary. I need my job.
But I guess Kibaki’s government has hatched a clever strategy to subvert the influence of anyone else in matters of free, sound governance. The “Kenya We Want” conference is, at least, being handled by the significantly more open-minded Prime Minister, Raila Odinga. But as we know, he’s paid from the same account as any other minister (to the tune of Kshs 1.4 million a month). And so Kenyans, you’ll be stuck with the same old, same old. It’s coming (or not coming, as the case may be?), and then you’ll be moaning for the next twenty years!
Until someone actually does something and stops just moaning about the way things are, nothing will change. A critical mass of dissent needs to be formed. Now! While everyone is sitting tjoep stil (dead quiet) on the issues, nothing will happen. The time is now, Kenya! Kenya Awethu!
Democracy is supposed to be government ‘for the people, by the people’. Not here, folks. No sirree. Kenya’s government is a carefully orchestrated symphony of cabalism where only the elite know the tune of the day, the secret handshake, the true meaning of the conductor’s baton-swing!
Kenya, a new world is possible for you! But only if you take a few tentative steps, at the very least, towards it realization.
Another world is not only possible, she is on her way.
On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.
Arundhati Roy, Porto Alegre, Brazil, January 27, 2003
Peace and love everyone.
B-)
Salaam Mombasa!
Boxing Day 2008, Nairobi.
Everyone’s in Mombasa. As Cape Town is to Jozi, so Mombasa is to Nairobi. And right now, as in Jozi, the streets of Nairobi are empty. Not a jum in sight. Driving is a pleasure. And even on the open road it’s not the usual split-second struggle for survival either. Everything is pretty chilled. Hakuna Mutata.
In the company runaround vehicle that I’m using (a little Suzuki 850cc that goes like the blazes), it now takes me 5 mins to drive to and from the Nakumatt Ukay (open 24/7). Normally, during the business week, you can expect to take at least 15 minutes on either of the routes, to or from (but not necessarily going both ways).
Today I went all the way downtown looking for a particular CD shop (a shop that sells mainly East African product rather than the top-twenty selection at the mall). I found the store (Kassanga Music) closed, with its steel roll-a-door securely locked. But I managed to do the return journey, to and from Westlands, in 15 minutes (including the time it took me to stop the car and take a few of these snaps). If it weren’t for the holidays, this would be a complete fiction. I was even able to pull off the road and take a snap or two without being threatened by matatus or other oncoming traffic. (I have just noticed that the streets in these pics are entirely deserted (an entirely uncommon sight)!)
This ‘roundabout’ is the first of two I take on while driving to town on the Uhuru Highway. This is actually the view of this roundabout as you come out of town (you can see the slightly uphill gradient). The second roundabout is smaller, and leads onto University Way, past the University of Nairobi, and is one of the main routes into ‘uptown’ as well as ‘downtown’ Nairobi. From this second roundabout I can now find my way through most of Nairobi Central.
You can’t see it in the picture, but somewhere in the mass of billboards there is one from S.A. Tourism calling Kenyans (or tourists currently in Kenya?) to Explore the Possibilities of South Africa, featuring a Kenyan woman smiling in front of ‘The Mountain’ (as seen from Blouberg, of course). A few people have commented on it already and it’s a little source of nationalistic pride for me right now.
There is actually a lot of respect here for South Africa, and South Africans. South Africa is recognized as the ‘powerhouse’ in commerce and the arts, and South African music features quite heavily on the microwave media, and on radio. Before his untimely death, Lucky Dube was clearly a hero of the Kenyan people and he is played often on Metro, the local reggae station. And Rebecca Malope, along with other gospel-ites, feature prominently on local TV.
However, parallel with the respect that Kenyans have for S.A., there seems to be a definite ‘suspicion’ of South Africa. I’m sorry to say that I can’t always allay the fear that Kenyans seem to have for what they see as something of a South African ‘mentality’. If one thing is clear; 45 years of home-rule independence has left a mark here that South Africa can only hope to achieve in another 25 years! (And Kenyans REALLY can’t believe that Jacob Zuma is even allowed to stand for President of the country).
The biggest concern that Kenyans seem to have is the xenophobia thing that was very widely reported here. And I think it worries Kenyans because they themselves have experienced ‘xenophobia’ in the form of tribalism, post-elections, at the beginning of the year. They know just how ‘real’ internecine violence actually is, with I-don’t-know-how-many “I.D.P.’s” (Internally Displaced People) yet to be ‘repatriated’ and living in tents (a year later!) all over the country.
But even without the suspicion of South Africa, and despite the cool pic of The Mountain, dude, I can’t imagine S.A. Tourism having much pull here. Yes, the youth are expecting more from their country, but Kenyans on-the-whole, seem pretty satisfied with their lot. And, anyway, who would want to go anywhere else when the President himself goes on holiday to Mombasa (and delivers his Christmas Address from there: dominated by repeated pleas for Kenyans to drink moderately over the season).
The plea/s was/were probably quite necessary because, clearly, Kenyans need little excuse to have a good time. I first saw this mentioned on the Internet and it has proven to be very true. I have been to clubs and pubs, both uptown and downtown. Everywhere, people are having a good time. The drinks are flowing but I have yet to see any form of violence break out. At one place, last week, there was a guy complaining bitterly about the fact that he had left his beer on the shelf and had come back to find it gone. Bitch and moan, bitch and moan. That’s as far as it went and it’s the only local incident of any kind I have seen.
On the other hand, at one of Nairobi’s main spots, a night or two ago (whenever I was there) there was a Christian Somali couple (who speak a Swahili variant), drunk as Lords, having a marital tiff outside the club. The passing police saw the commotion and stopped, climbing slowly out of their old teal Land Rover. For about five minutes they just watched the scene unfolding, outside and inside the taxi that the couple had hired. When things looked like they were getting worse between the two, the cops started to intervene. The long and the short of it is that the cops landed up slowly ushering them both (with extreme care and caution) into the Land Rover. She, by far the worse for wear, got to sit in the dog box in the back. He got to sit as a passenger. The doorman at the club told me they were being taken to the station to take it easy for a while….
It was evidently the bombing of the US Embassy in ’98 that really got the local police force armed to the hilt and word has it that they are on high alert right now – expecting a possible – but unspecified - terrorist attack. But despite their threat of clear and present danger if you fuck with them, most of the time they seem fairly chilled.
Here the police are Maintaining peace: without it there can be no future.
The club I was at during the Somali incident, Madhouse, caters mainly for locals and features a wide mix of music genres in the night’s offering. The pop-dance material of Beyonce, Madonna or Cher drives the audience wild but it’s the Tanzanian Bongo Flava - or Arabic-inspired - tracks that create a frenzy! And I have to admit that East Africa’s indigenous sounds are talking to me. More and more. So much so that yesterday (27th December) I went downtown to find some Bongo compilation CD’s. No CD’s to be found, but for Ksh150 (less than R20 at today’s exchange rate) you can get a pirated DVD featuring a mix of videos of all the current chart-toppers.
The downtown streets are lined by only two types of shops. The first being shops selling mobile phones and electronic goods (run by Indians or Pakistanis). The other being shops that sell pirated music (run by black Kenyans)! Here and there one does find what we call a spaza shop on the downtown streets (also run by locals). In downtown Nairobi these shops will sell lots of different (often Indian) snack foods, along with some fresh fruit and the occasional stash of miraa (khat). (The Indian influence here is so strong that many Kenyans think samoosas are a Kenyan invention!) You don’t see it often, but chewing miraa downtown is more socially acceptable than in Westlands, as evidenced by this brand new sign outside the mall. (And it’s evidently the chilled folk of Meru, at the base of Mt.Kenya, that are famed for their “chewing”).
The biggest difference between Kenya and that place I call home, is that this is a highly literate society (despite the bad grammar on the sign). I get no less than three English language dailies delivered to my desk every morning (and that excludes the Nairobi Star). There’s the popular Standard – akin to where The Star or Argus are today – using popular English, but without colloquialisms. Then there’s the Daily Nation, which I consider to be good press. If I can only get to one paper during the day, this is my choice. There is also the Business Daily, printed on heavy Financial-Times-type paper and covering business in the whole East African region. Lastly, there’s also The East African, a Sunday weekly that reaches me on a Monday. All of S.A.’s big fashion fortnightlies and monthlies are on the supermarket shelves here, as are many of our stores to be found in the malls (Mr.Price, Standard Bank (Stanbic), Safaricom (MTN)). But Tusker Beer will beat any of SAB’s brands, any day. Often consumed warm by locals, I think it’s the only beer I have ever actually enjoyed!
Christmas Eve was spent at Jane’s place where she held her annual Christmas Eve party for friends and selected clients. Catered largely by her two sons (both of some culinary bent), we had a great spread of traditional Christmas fare, and a layout of sweets that defied choice.
As I left, I was presented with my Christmas gift from Jane. I nearly collapsed with joy at the combination Maasai blanket and Maasai carving (paperweight?) presented to me. With Jane being a Scotswoman, there’s something of the genes in her choice of blanket. But both artifacts will be treasured!
At the party I got to know my fellow Research Director (for Francophone West Africa), Jaime Laia; Jaime is from Portugal, speaks English, Portuguese, Spanish and French. His girlfriend, Melissa, works for the U.N. and speaks no less than six languages (but not Swahili, I gather). But most interesting for me was to find out that Jaime was a professional musician about five years ago! He owns an American Stratocaster guitar, a Gibson Les Paul guitar and has an array of classic guitar amps. Once we got talking, the joke quickly circulated that Jane has just lost both her new Directors (Jaime only started in March) to professional music.
So what will happen now? Apart from Jaime and I as potential band members, there’s Scott (educated at St. John’s, Johannesburg), Jane’s eldest boy, who can sing (I heard him privately belting out some Seal at the party)! Never mind Jane herself, who was singing with the Bob Marley CD in her car, all the way to Naivasha a few weeks ago. (Jane checks in at work around 10.00am, twice a week, after she’s been to her Latin dance class). If I get to work before 9.30, there’s almost no-one there! But they all work late to make up the time. Flexi-time has another meaning here.
But having been here for nearly a month now, I am probably slightly qualified to comment on the weather: it is incredibly invariant, with warm, but not hot, days, and pleasantly cool evenings. I actually couldn’t imagine a more perfect clime. One is tempted to wake up and say “Oh no, not another fucking beautiful day!” The sky almost always looks full of bulky clouds but it doesn’t move to rain. Not till ‘rainy season’ anyway.
Amani na mapenzi
B
Everyone’s in Mombasa. As Cape Town is to Jozi, so Mombasa is to Nairobi. And right now, as in Jozi, the streets of Nairobi are empty. Not a jum in sight. Driving is a pleasure. And even on the open road it’s not the usual split-second struggle for survival either. Everything is pretty chilled. Hakuna Mutata.
In the company runaround vehicle that I’m using (a little Suzuki 850cc that goes like the blazes), it now takes me 5 mins to drive to and from the Nakumatt Ukay (open 24/7). Normally, during the business week, you can expect to take at least 15 minutes on either of the routes, to or from (but not necessarily going both ways). Today I went all the way downtown looking for a particular CD shop (a shop that sells mainly East African product rather than the top-twenty selection at the mall). I found the store (Kassanga Music) closed, with its steel roll-a-door securely locked. But I managed to do the return journey, to and from Westlands, in 15 minutes (including the time it took me to stop the car and take a few of these snaps). If it weren’t for the holidays, this would be a complete fiction. I was even able to pull off the road and take a snap or two without being threatened by matatus or other oncoming traffic. (I have just noticed that the streets in these pics are entirely deserted (an entirely uncommon sight)!)
This ‘roundabout’ is the first of two I take on while driving to town on the Uhuru Highway. This is actually the view of this roundabout as you come out of town (you can see the slightly uphill gradient). The second roundabout is smaller, and leads onto University Way, past the University of Nairobi, and is one of the main routes into ‘uptown’ as well as ‘downtown’ Nairobi. From this second roundabout I can now find my way through most of Nairobi Central.You can’t see it in the picture, but somewhere in the mass of billboards there is one from S.A. Tourism calling Kenyans (or tourists currently in Kenya?) to Explore the Possibilities of South Africa, featuring a Kenyan woman smiling in front of ‘The Mountain’ (as seen from Blouberg, of course). A few people have commented on it already and it’s a little source of nationalistic pride for me right now.
There is actually a lot of respect here for South Africa, and South Africans. South Africa is recognized as the ‘powerhouse’ in commerce and the arts, and South African music features quite heavily on the microwave media, and on radio. Before his untimely death, Lucky Dube was clearly a hero of the Kenyan people and he is played often on Metro, the local reggae station. And Rebecca Malope, along with other gospel-ites, feature prominently on local TV.
However, parallel with the respect that Kenyans have for S.A., there seems to be a definite ‘suspicion’ of South Africa. I’m sorry to say that I can’t always allay the fear that Kenyans seem to have for what they see as something of a South African ‘mentality’. If one thing is clear; 45 years of home-rule independence has left a mark here that South Africa can only hope to achieve in another 25 years! (And Kenyans REALLY can’t believe that Jacob Zuma is even allowed to stand for President of the country).
The biggest concern that Kenyans seem to have is the xenophobia thing that was very widely reported here. And I think it worries Kenyans because they themselves have experienced ‘xenophobia’ in the form of tribalism, post-elections, at the beginning of the year. They know just how ‘real’ internecine violence actually is, with I-don’t-know-how-many “I.D.P.’s” (Internally Displaced People) yet to be ‘repatriated’ and living in tents (a year later!) all over the country.
But even without the suspicion of South Africa, and despite the cool pic of The Mountain, dude, I can’t imagine S.A. Tourism having much pull here. Yes, the youth are expecting more from their country, but Kenyans on-the-whole, seem pretty satisfied with their lot. And, anyway, who would want to go anywhere else when the President himself goes on holiday to Mombasa (and delivers his Christmas Address from there: dominated by repeated pleas for Kenyans to drink moderately over the season).
The plea/s was/were probably quite necessary because, clearly, Kenyans need little excuse to have a good time. I first saw this mentioned on the Internet and it has proven to be very true. I have been to clubs and pubs, both uptown and downtown. Everywhere, people are having a good time. The drinks are flowing but I have yet to see any form of violence break out. At one place, last week, there was a guy complaining bitterly about the fact that he had left his beer on the shelf and had come back to find it gone. Bitch and moan, bitch and moan. That’s as far as it went and it’s the only local incident of any kind I have seen.
On the other hand, at one of Nairobi’s main spots, a night or two ago (whenever I was there) there was a Christian Somali couple (who speak a Swahili variant), drunk as Lords, having a marital tiff outside the club. The passing police saw the commotion and stopped, climbing slowly out of their old teal Land Rover. For about five minutes they just watched the scene unfolding, outside and inside the taxi that the couple had hired. When things looked like they were getting worse between the two, the cops started to intervene. The long and the short of it is that the cops landed up slowly ushering them both (with extreme care and caution) into the Land Rover. She, by far the worse for wear, got to sit in the dog box in the back. He got to sit as a passenger. The doorman at the club told me they were being taken to the station to take it easy for a while….
It was evidently the bombing of the US Embassy in ’98 that really got the local police force armed to the hilt and word has it that they are on high alert right now – expecting a possible – but unspecified - terrorist attack. But despite their threat of clear and present danger if you fuck with them, most of the time they seem fairly chilled.
Here the police are Maintaining peace: without it there can be no future.The club I was at during the Somali incident, Madhouse, caters mainly for locals and features a wide mix of music genres in the night’s offering. The pop-dance material of Beyonce, Madonna or Cher drives the audience wild but it’s the Tanzanian Bongo Flava - or Arabic-inspired - tracks that create a frenzy! And I have to admit that East Africa’s indigenous sounds are talking to me. More and more. So much so that yesterday (27th December) I went downtown to find some Bongo compilation CD’s. No CD’s to be found, but for Ksh150 (less than R20 at today’s exchange rate) you can get a pirated DVD featuring a mix of videos of all the current chart-toppers.
The downtown streets are lined by only two types of shops. The first being shops selling mobile phones and electronic goods (run by Indians or Pakistanis). The other being shops that sell pirated music (run by black Kenyans)! Here and there one does find what we call a spaza shop on the downtown streets (also run by locals). In downtown Nairobi these shops will sell lots of different (often Indian) snack foods, along with some fresh fruit and the occasional stash of miraa (khat). (The Indian influence here is so strong that many Kenyans think samoosas are a Kenyan invention!) You don’t see it often, but chewing miraa downtown is more socially acceptable than in Westlands, as evidenced by this brand new sign outside the mall. (And it’s evidently the chilled folk of Meru, at the base of Mt.Kenya, that are famed for their “chewing”).
The biggest difference between Kenya and that place I call home, is that this is a highly literate society (despite the bad grammar on the sign). I get no less than three English language dailies delivered to my desk every morning (and that excludes the Nairobi Star). There’s the popular Standard – akin to where The Star or Argus are today – using popular English, but without colloquialisms. Then there’s the Daily Nation, which I consider to be good press. If I can only get to one paper during the day, this is my choice. There is also the Business Daily, printed on heavy Financial-Times-type paper and covering business in the whole East African region. Lastly, there’s also The East African, a Sunday weekly that reaches me on a Monday. All of S.A.’s big fashion fortnightlies and monthlies are on the supermarket shelves here, as are many of our stores to be found in the malls (Mr.Price, Standard Bank (Stanbic), Safaricom (MTN)). But Tusker Beer will beat any of SAB’s brands, any day. Often consumed warm by locals, I think it’s the only beer I have ever actually enjoyed! 
Christmas Eve was spent at Jane’s place where she held her annual Christmas Eve party for friends and selected clients. Catered largely by her two sons (both of some culinary bent), we had a great spread of traditional Christmas fare, and a layout of sweets that defied choice. As I left, I was presented with my Christmas gift from Jane. I nearly collapsed with joy at the combination Maasai blanket and Maasai carving (paperweight?) presented to me. With Jane being a Scotswoman, there’s something of the genes in her choice of blanket. But both artifacts will be treasured!
At the party I got to know my fellow Research Director (for Francophone West Africa), Jaime Laia; Jaime is from Portugal, speaks English, Portuguese, Spanish and French. His girlfriend, Melissa, works for the U.N. and speaks no less than six languages (but not Swahili, I gather). But most interesting for me was to find out that Jaime was a professional musician about five years ago! He owns an American Stratocaster guitar, a Gibson Les Paul guitar and has an array of classic guitar amps. Once we got talking, the joke quickly circulated that Jane has just lost both her new Directors (Jaime only started in March) to professional music. So what will happen now? Apart from Jaime and I as potential band members, there’s Scott (educated at St. John’s, Johannesburg), Jane’s eldest boy, who can sing (I heard him privately belting out some Seal at the party)! Never mind Jane herself, who was singing with the Bob Marley CD in her car, all the way to Naivasha a few weeks ago. (Jane checks in at work around 10.00am, twice a week, after she’s been to her Latin dance class). If I get to work before 9.30, there’s almost no-one there! But they all work late to make up the time. Flexi-time has another meaning here.
But having been here for nearly a month now, I am probably slightly qualified to comment on the weather: it is incredibly invariant, with warm, but not hot, days, and pleasantly cool evenings. I actually couldn’t imagine a more perfect clime. One is tempted to wake up and say “Oh no, not another fucking beautiful day!” The sky almost always looks full of bulky clouds but it doesn’t move to rain. Not till ‘rainy season’ anyway.
Amani na mapenzi
B
The Second Week in Nairobi
So there I am, having breakfast, sitting on the (ground floor) balcony of the ArtCafe (no less!), at the new Westgate Mall (dahling). I see this bobbing bald black head out the corner of my eye. The head attracts my attention, being visibly that much higher than all the other heads passing on the pavement. I turn slightly in my seat to get a better view. And there I see a Maasai warrior in full regalia – spear and knobkerrie held together behind his shield - walking with his buddy who is in a suit! The warrior is wearing the traditional swathe of red fabric, layer-upon-layer, and is chatting animatedly in Swahili to his chommie…
The contrasts of this place astound me! Anyway, need I say more than that it was a stunning sight? The Maasai are a majestic tribe of tall, fine-boned, almost elegant people. And to see such, in full kit, in the streets of Nairobi, was quite special.
While sitting on the balcony, the local semi-rock station (Classic FM) is being piped through the speakers and the patrons are being fed a diet of The Police, the Stones and the Doors, ending with Pet Clark’s "These Boots Are Made for Walking". What a mix! But the last track has the entire contingent of waitrons bopping and singing “…and one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over YOU!” So cool. That’s it for Kenyan coffee shops.
I got issued a four-week visa on entry to Kenya – we South Africans being lucky in that we are one of the few countries that get issued visas on entry – but it is going to expire in three weeks time, while our offices are closed for Christmas.
Lo-and-behold, if the boss (I'll call her Jane from now on) doesn’t call me into her office to tell me that I will have to go to Dar Es Salaam on 4th January, to beat the expiry of the visa (which I had forgotten about!). I am, of course, going to meet the staff at our Dar Es office - but not before I’ve had a chance to get to the beach for the day (bra!). I’m hopefully going to be booked into one-or-other beach hotel (if there’s a room available during high-season time). I will get to spend a few days just “getting to know the place” as Jane put it. I guess I’ll just have to suffer through the experience, pretending to enjoy myself.
Sorry guys, I really don’t mean to sound glib. It’s just that I can’t fully believe what’s going on in my life right now (and in the foreseeable future) – to the point where I battle to take it seriously. But serious it is. And I must say that I have worked far harder in the last week than I did in seven months at my last job!
This weekend will be the first one where I’ll have a vehicle. Not yet the company car, but a company car, I’ll at least have transport for this long weekend (tomorrow is a holiday here - but no-one can tell me what holiday it is!). I told Jane I was thinking of driving down to Mombasa. She looks at me, straight faced and says “no, you will not be driving to Mombasa…” I get a bit of a fright and wait expectantly for the rest of the obvious admonition.
She continues, “If you want to go to Mombasa, ask Mueni (our office assistant) to organize you a flight. You shouldn't drive on that road. It’s 400kms but will take you 12 hours. The Mombasa-Kampala railway is closed – no-one knows why – so you have to deal with every truck travelling from the port to here. Sorry, but I don't think you should drive”.
I say, “Jane, it’s not a problem, there’s plenty for me to see in Nairobi”.
She says, “Yes, that’s a better idea”.
So I guess I won’t be going to Mombasa this weekend and will have to suffer staying in Nairobi. Maybe it’ll be the Maasai Mara this weekend instead, where I can stock up on giraffe, elephant and the occasional lion-kill... I can’t tell you how much I love this place already.
Apart from my Dar Es trip I have also just been booked as part of a trade mission that is going to Uganda and Rwanda in March. It’s a seven day trip, consisting mainly of briefings on the economic, social and political systems, etc, etc. but it should also be great. I’d love to get to the Chimp orphanage we saw recently on TV in SA. And the Rwandan Silverback Gorillas (a la Gorillas in the Mist) would be great too.
What do they say about “be careful what you wish for…”?
Truth is, I couldn’t have dreamt up – never mind wished for – what has been given to me from the HP source. I walk to work every day smiling, thinking how far this already is from a life I left a mere week ago. And I thank the source on a daily basis.
Love and Peace.
B
The contrasts of this place astound me! Anyway, need I say more than that it was a stunning sight? The Maasai are a majestic tribe of tall, fine-boned, almost elegant people. And to see such, in full kit, in the streets of Nairobi, was quite special.
While sitting on the balcony, the local semi-rock station (Classic FM) is being piped through the speakers and the patrons are being fed a diet of The Police, the Stones and the Doors, ending with Pet Clark’s "These Boots Are Made for Walking". What a mix! But the last track has the entire contingent of waitrons bopping and singing “…and one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over YOU!” So cool. That’s it for Kenyan coffee shops.
I got issued a four-week visa on entry to Kenya – we South Africans being lucky in that we are one of the few countries that get issued visas on entry – but it is going to expire in three weeks time, while our offices are closed for Christmas.
Lo-and-behold, if the boss (I'll call her Jane from now on) doesn’t call me into her office to tell me that I will have to go to Dar Es Salaam on 4th January, to beat the expiry of the visa (which I had forgotten about!). I am, of course, going to meet the staff at our Dar Es office - but not before I’ve had a chance to get to the beach for the day (bra!). I’m hopefully going to be booked into one-or-other beach hotel (if there’s a room available during high-season time). I will get to spend a few days just “getting to know the place” as Jane put it. I guess I’ll just have to suffer through the experience, pretending to enjoy myself.
Sorry guys, I really don’t mean to sound glib. It’s just that I can’t fully believe what’s going on in my life right now (and in the foreseeable future) – to the point where I battle to take it seriously. But serious it is. And I must say that I have worked far harder in the last week than I did in seven months at my last job!
This weekend will be the first one where I’ll have a vehicle. Not yet the company car, but a company car, I’ll at least have transport for this long weekend (tomorrow is a holiday here - but no-one can tell me what holiday it is!). I told Jane I was thinking of driving down to Mombasa. She looks at me, straight faced and says “no, you will not be driving to Mombasa…” I get a bit of a fright and wait expectantly for the rest of the obvious admonition.
She continues, “If you want to go to Mombasa, ask Mueni (our office assistant) to organize you a flight. You shouldn't drive on that road. It’s 400kms but will take you 12 hours. The Mombasa-Kampala railway is closed – no-one knows why – so you have to deal with every truck travelling from the port to here. Sorry, but I don't think you should drive”.
I say, “Jane, it’s not a problem, there’s plenty for me to see in Nairobi”.
She says, “Yes, that’s a better idea”.
So I guess I won’t be going to Mombasa this weekend and will have to suffer staying in Nairobi. Maybe it’ll be the Maasai Mara this weekend instead, where I can stock up on giraffe, elephant and the occasional lion-kill... I can’t tell you how much I love this place already.
Apart from my Dar Es trip I have also just been booked as part of a trade mission that is going to Uganda and Rwanda in March. It’s a seven day trip, consisting mainly of briefings on the economic, social and political systems, etc, etc. but it should also be great. I’d love to get to the Chimp orphanage we saw recently on TV in SA. And the Rwandan Silverback Gorillas (a la Gorillas in the Mist) would be great too.
What do they say about “be careful what you wish for…”?
Truth is, I couldn’t have dreamt up – never mind wished for – what has been given to me from the HP source. I walk to work every day smiling, thinking how far this already is from a life I left a mere week ago. And I thank the source on a daily basis.
Love and Peace.
B
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)