Back to the US

I found it ironic as I walked through the corridors of Jomo Kenyatta Airport in Nairobi, that the music accompanying me was Kenny Rogers' The Gambler. Nonetheless, country music was the background to my last hour or so before boarding my flight to Amsterdam.
Something that I noticed when I returned to Nairobi, in addition to just being happy about being there, was that the hostel that I had found dirty during my first stay, before going to Mombasa, had become much cleaner. At least that is how is appeared to me. After two weeks with no electricity, it was amazing to be able to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night (armed with a bucket of water), and to be able to flip a switch to get light.
I left the hostel shortly before 7am on my last day and headed to the bus stop to catch a City Hoppa to the airport. My backpack was a pain in the ass for all the commuters crowded on the bus, but no one made nasty comments, even when I had to take it off as I stood in the aisle and it kept bumping the woman sitting near me.
Amsterdam revealed itself again as a lovely city, and I got a place in a hostel dorm for my overnight stay there. I love the smell of salt water.
At the airport the next morning, I sat meditating, waiting for my flight after downing a second cup of coffee. I was sitting in the smoking section of the airport cafe' because it was more comfortable and there were little tables where I could perch my cup.
As I sat there, a group of people came out of a nearby jet way. They were mostly working class men from the US. They looked like the kind of guys who I grew up around in McFarland. They're the kind of guys who would be sitting at the Green Lantern knocking back a few beers on a Wednesday night. One of them mentioned "hitting Dubai", so I thought that they may be military, although there were no fatigues anywhere in sight.
I asked an African-American woman who was with the group where they were going, and it turns out that I was right: they were headed to Iraq and Afghanistan and they were working for Halliburton. It made me sad. She was from Texas, and I imagined that the job prospects for her in Texas were probably not very good. These were all working-class people and I suspect that none of them had much to look forward to in terms of employment in their home areas. The hope that I chose to settle on as I observed this group was that maybe some of them would have a transformational experience overseas. Maybe some of them would see the Afghanis and the Iraqis as human beings, just like them. That is what I hope because I believe that that realization is the key to changing the attitudes that are being used to justify kiling Muslims (and others) around the Middle East and elsewhere.

The Challenges of a Working Vacation

The past week has definitely had its ups and downs. Last week, our matutu (minivan) driver was arrested by the police for driving us around without a tourist license. We had just left the supermarket, and a gang of young cops dressed in blue came up and had us all get out of the van. Then they hauled the driver and his companion off. Zac, the local volunteer leader, engaged another matutu, but just as he was doing that, our regular driver was calling another group leader to let us know that he had paid his bribe and was coming to get us. After a couple of hours negotiating with the "new" driver, at dusk, we finally had to pay the guy off to leave us alone before we could take our regular matutu back to the camp.
I've been irritated with one of the local volunteer leaders, Mariam, because since our arrival, she has been asking me to help, to come back, and to get money for the projects. Since we had barely met when this started, I was quite put off. This morning, after I told her about an older man in the village who keeps harassing me for my e-mail address, I was really angry with her because she told me not to make a problem out of it. I told her that if she is interested in "protecting" the group members (because she insisted last night that two women from the group who will spend Saturday in Mombasa on their own have a local companion to keep them safe), then the same thing should apply to the place where we live.
Additionally, last night Mary, who I mentioned in my previous posting, asked me: "What are you going to do for me?" Literally. My response was that I don't have any money and that I don't have an easy answer for her. All of these things had me asking myself when you can tell the difference between someone who just wants to use you and when someone is sincere.
These things had me really down this morning. My spirits picked up, though, as soon as I started exploring the school buildings where we were going to give a training this morning on market analysis and business plan preparation for the local, nascent credit union group. It also helped that after the workshop, I talked with Patrick, one of the CIVS co-leaders, and he told me that he also had problems with Mariam and her attitude. Actually, that conversation really restored my hope. While earlier in the morning I had been asking myself what sense it would have for me to come back to Kenya, this conversation put everything back into perspective.
I've been helping Zac with this proposal that he started to write. I think that it is much improved from where we started, but I realize that this is definitely an area where someone with real experience in fundraising would make a tremendous difference.
Saturday afternoon, after an aborted safari, a group of us went to the beach. I can't say enough about how wonderful it was. What warm, clear, blue water, and white sand! Complete with palm trees. The two German women, Clarissa and Anna, and I swam for half an hour without noticing the time at all. Anna is interested in spending some time abroad, so I'm going to put her in touch with some of my colleagues to see if she can do an internship at the Community House.
Anyway, tomorrow I'm catching the train for Nairobi. I'm used to trains from Europe, and I took them a couple of times in India, too, so I'm looking forward to the experience, even if it will take twice as long as the bus.

I've been to the Indian Ocean...

Hello everyone,

Yesterday the whole group of folks from the work camp went to the Indian Ocean to go swimming at Diani Beach, which is apparently pretty famous. The water was not only warm, but blue and beautiful. We went after spending the morning hiding from the rain inside the community school house where we were supposed to be working. One part of the work that we are supposed to do here during our stay is to build an additional building to house the more than 70 children who are enrolled in "pre-units". I think that that is the British term for pre-K, kindergarten and maybe 1st grade.
Unfortunately, however, since our work involved construction activities, we weren't able to do anything because of the rain, making the work day a wash (so to speak).
It's pretty amazing how much time it takes just to do basic domestic work like cooking and laundry. There is no running water, so the abundant rain has been helpful because it has allowed all 12 (now 13) volunteers to have a supply of water for our laundry and our "showers". The water collects in a barrel and various other containers placed strategically around the courtyard to catch the rain. We then take smaller containers or buckets out of there that we use to wash with.
The toilet is a hole in the ground with two blocks on either side of it so that one can stand over it at a reasonable distance. And, of course, there is no electricity.
So the women, who take care of everything in their homes, not only have to wash laundry by hand, and cook without any pre-made or frozen ingredients, but they also often have side projects to help them make money.
One woman in the community group, Mary, is a volunteer teacher in the school. Actually, all three teachers are volunteers. I went to her house the other day to borrow a hammer, and while we were there, she showed me her new economic project. She has built a small pool in her kitchen courtyard area where she is raising fish that she will sell.
Mary left her husband a while back when she was offered a teaching job in Tanzania, and he refused to let her take it. He was unemployed, so it apparently threatened his masculinity to have her earning an income while he did not. Now she is raising their four children on her own and teaching in the school.
Today I helped Zacaria, Zac for short, one of the local coordinators, to revise a proposal. When we had finished, we had lunch in a little place across the street from his book shop where we were served beans and chapati, a flat bread similar to a tortilla. He mentioned that there are 20 NGOs in the area where we are working, which is called Kwale, but the only one that seems to be producing visible results is a Dutch organization called Vikat (I think I've got that right) that has built many primary schools for girls around the area.
I'm enjoying my stay here, and I realize that coming as part of a group means that I have the option of spending more time with my young counterparts from the wealthy parts of the world, or with the local people. I'm trying to balance both.
Swahili is really different. There are certainly some words from Arabic, and I haven't tried learning the grammar at this point, but it just sounds completely unlike anything I'm accustomed to hearing, and it is kind of strange to have absolutely no linguistic points of reference when people are talking, although I suppose that my experience in Turkey a couple of years ago was similar.
Mombasa is an interesting place both because of its history as a trading center, and, consequently, as a place where different cultures came together and mixed, as well as because it is also a European tourist destination now. There is a strong Muslim influence, which is obvious in the pieces of the Koran that decorate the matatus (the mini-vans that serve as public transportation) as well as in the fact that women are supposed to be covered. In some cases, that means wearing veils that only show the eyes and wearing long, black robes. In other cases, it means just a hijab, a headscarf, and robes. Or it can also be a couple of very brightly colored congas (sarongs or wraps) that look SO African.
I wish that I had my camera since I feel that the disposable ones that I brought with me aren't going to do justice to everything I'm seeing.
By the way, have I mentioned that I totally get a kick out of trying to read the Arabic writing on packages in the grocery store and in other places? Today in the book shop I was looking at charts for children that showed different fruits, birds, etc. and had the names in both English and Arabic. I may have to get one of those....

In Mombasa

I arrived in Mombasa last night after a long bus ride from Nairobi. There are 10 people in the volunteer group, plus a couple of staff people from the organization. We are from the US, Germany, Japan and South Korea. The road outside of Mombasa was terrible. It was dirt and filled with potholes, and it went on for about an hour on the outskirts of the city.
After arriving, we all piled into a minivan with all of our luggage and took a ferry across the Indian Ocean (not actually a long trip at this point) from Mombasa, which is an island, to the mainland. From there, it was another hour to the village where we are staying.
At a police check point, the police wanted a bribe because there were so many of us in the van, but the local volunteers told them no.
The welcome when we arrived was pretty amazing. After saying 'jambo' - hello - to everyone, the group of us work camp people schlepped our bags into the home where we are staying. A group of towns people followed us, singing, dancing, and playing music on a flat instrument that is kind of like a washboard, but it's filled with seeds. The women dancers gave us little choice but to jump into the mix and shake our shoulders and dance with them. It was quite an experience, and it was really welcoming.
Last night, it rained heavily through the opening in the roof through in the courtyard through which I had recently admired the palm trees. Fortunately, though, someone got up and put out some buckets to catch the leak in the drain pipe outside of the room where two other women and I are sleeping.
Kenya so far is very welcoming and beautiful. I didn't see the wildebeasts yesterday that some of my companions saw from the bus, probably because I was sleeping.
Locally, there is a big titanium deposit, which the government is haggling over with the landowners. Undoubtedly, the mining will destroy the land, and I wonder what other consequences it will have on the environment.
AIDS is a big problem. We visited a volunteer-run school today, and there are many orphans. I presume that many of them have lost their parents to AIDS. The news in Nairobi also carried a story the other day about a toddler being raped and killed, most likely because of the myth that started in South Africa that having sex with a virgin is a cure for AIDS.
Anyway, that's my update for the moment. More later.