Post election dramas

It has been a really strange day. After the ‘storming of the Bastille’ sound affects coming from the direction of town and the Kibera slum last night, we sent a text to our ex askari who lives there, to ask how he was doing.

He ‘flashed’ us this morning and when we phoned him back he told us that as soon as the election results were released yesterday evening rioting broke out instantly in his neighbourhood and houses were being burned. By the time security arrived on the scene in the form of army and police chaos had broken out. He and his family fled, but in the mayhem he lost his son and nephew who he was responsible for (they live with him).
‘I have lost my children’ he said.
He slept the night in a ditch in the nearby suburb of Langata with his wife, and was going back to the slum to try and find the children. This morning there were still running battles going on and residents were barred from returning home. We said that he and his family were welcome to stay here and we hoped he would find the children soon.

Before live broadcasts were banned by internal security, fighting was reported in Eldoret, Nakuru, all the Nairobi slums, Kisumu and at the coast. Then general feeling was that the people of Kenya were furious about being cheated of a fair and democratic election, meanwhile the news networks were preaching forgiveness and ‘healing’ in order to keep the country together. Raila talked of staging a rival inauguration ceremony in Uhuru Gardens in Nairobi, but was immediately put under house arrest. One of his aides, Ruto, said;
‘Kibaki may have the army and the police but Raila has the people’.
The latest news is that Raila is calling for a ‘day of mass action’ on the third of January.

The ban on news broadcasting has been frustrating but quite probably a sensible move by the government in power to divert full civil war breaking out as opposition rallies together.

No one knows which way this will go and we are all in the dark over what is going on. We have all stayed at home (as advised by the embassies), but those who have ventured out of town say that the roads are clear. The supermarkets were urged to open today to maintain a semblance of normality, but stocks of food are getting low.

We spoke to our Kibera friend again this evening, he has found his children and they have together got back into their former home, but only to find that it has been looted of all possessions. They now have nothing to sleep on or sit on, no clothes left, nothing has been left behind but now they must stay indoors, as security forces are policing the area and preventing groups from forming on the streets urging all to stay inside.

The only way we can keep track on current events as they unfold is by looking at the BBC on the internet or by getting texts from people who are watching Sky News on satellite.

Election violence as many feel they have been robbed

Kenya has gone mad this evening. Mad with fury over the apparent cooking of election results by the ECK (Electoral Committee of Kenya) in the country's presidential race. After the huge pride shown in having cast votes in a democratic process, the rumours of fiddling results is a sad disappointment and a slap in the face for many who hoped for change.

The EU and British have stated that they are 'not convinced' that the election results were fairly calculated. As soon as this was announced, mayhem broke out with rioting and violence country wide, especially centred in poorer towns and slum areas. We were poised to hear details of the chaos having been glued to the TV all day, when all the news channels simultaneously took a commercial break. After half an hour it was further announced that no live broadcasts were henceforward allowed by order of the minister of internal security, John Michuki - who was concerned about the incitement of further voilence.

During the drawn out election tallying process and the shenanegans reported in the press, we wondered where Mwai Kibaki was hiding out as he never once showed his face - only to find that as soon as his narrow victory was announced by the ECK chairman this evening, than the re elected president was magically poised in State House for a speedy inauguration ceremony staged within less then two hours of his tentative victory, accompanied by a few honoured invited guests. Curiouser and curiouser

Lucky we all went crazy stocking up on food this morning for a seige. My friends with access to BBC and Sky news (we have a satellite software problem at the moment) say that Raila Odinga plans to stage his own rival inauguration ceremony tomorrow to celebrate the victory that has been robbed from him. I predict that this won't help matters to settle down.

As we turn in for the night, we can hear the booms, shouts and shots carried on the wind from the direction of town and Kibera slum. God knows what a scene we will wake up to tomorrow.

Kenya Election - still waiting for a result

There’s a siege mentality that has been going on in our little suburb for the past couple of days. Shops are opening briefly for an hour or so and residents are stocking up on large quantities of supplies such as; milk, bread, eggs, booze, meat and vegetables, due to the uncertainty in the air. Who knows when shops will be re supplied? Very few people are pitching up for work at the moment and most of the matatus have stopped running. All our new year’s eve plans have been put on hold and people have been advised to avoid travelling.

Now there’s accusation from Raila Odinga (the current president’s main opponent) that the ECK (Electoral Committee of Kenya) have tampered with results and massaged figures so that the incumbent president, Mwai Kibaki, will get back into power, in spite of the majority of Kenyans voting for Raila. He claims that there are anomalies in results from as many as forty eight constituencies. Reported numbers of votes from regions of Kenya have been inexplicably changing over the past 72 hours, mysteriously closing the gap between Kibaki and Odinga, the former of which was originally clearly in the lead.

We have received texts that read as follows:
‘High alert from united nations, pls stay in doors and have enough food till things calm, forward sms 2 friends and loved ones.’
Everyone is keeping a low profile in case of violence and the British High Commission advise utmost caution.

There has been pilfering of shops in Kisumu yesterday and, rioting in Eldoret, three people were killed in a slum skirmish in Nairobi last night and there’s been multiple burning of vehicles by youth demonstrators in towns around Kenya, everyone is clamouring for a fair result, everyone wants to know what is happening, they have waited long enough. On a more personal level, we were supposed to be driving to Naivasha for a quiet new year in a pretty self catering cottage – now we are holed up at home as if under house arrest!

The election result was due to have been delivered by now (12pm) but we are still waiting and hoping that no news is good news. The local TV networks have been broadcasting live from the KICC (Kenya International Conference Centre where the votes are being counted) for the last couple of hours, waiting for an official announcement. All we can see on our screens is people milling about patiently waiting inside the conference centre, chatting on their mobile phones. We are all on tenterhooks.

This morning, when I ventured out to do my panic buying, Kenyans were expecting Kibaki to be voted back in to power, as it seemed he had somehow managed to manipulate things to go his way - as does seem to happen in the developing world when there is a presidential election. We will now wait and see, but now that doubt has been cast over the whole proceeding it’s likely that if Odinga does not get in, there will be rioting.

Waiting for Kenya Election results

Today was supposed to be an ordinary, back to normal day in Nairobi. We had Christmas, then Boxing Day, then Election Day, then another holiday day for people to get back to where they work after casting their votes at home. Today, Saturday 29th was supposed to back to work as usual, but it hasn’t happened and it threw us all a bit.

Driving to the shops this morning was an eerie experience. No matatus (buses) were running. The normally bustling roads were devoid of traffic, roadside shops and businesses remained closed, instead there were groups of people, standing about idle, the odd person listening to small portable radios, all waiting to hear the final outcome of the election. It’s the second day of waiting and resulting from all the hanging around demonstrations and troubles are beginning on the streets of Kenya today.

After arriving at the shopping centre and having run a couple of errands, I noticed that the security people were closing the car park gates due to a ruckus outside. A scruffy looking white lady was standing on top of a mini van at the edge of the car park with tv camera trained over the fence and at the demonstrators. I asked one of the shopkeepers who had wandered outside to watch, what was going on:
‘It’s a riot, don’t leave now unless you want your car to be burned.’

Hmm. Someone else told me that I should be OK if I left via the back exit and took a circuitous route home. Heart in mouth, I raced back to our house watching out for explosions of violence on the roadside. In Kericho bonfires have been lit on the street. Demonstrations are taking place in Nairobi city centre and Mombasa. There have been reports of violence in Eldoret. Everyone feels that they turned out to vote two days ago, and now they want to see a result. The process has been highly emotive for so many would like to see changes in Government. Tally delays are sparking doubts over whether the process is being conducted fairly. Outbreaks of violence are occurring in the Nairobi slums.

We’ve been watching the news for hours and are now all bouncing off the walls feeling like we’re under house arrest as we’re not sure what is going on outside as Kenyans become more frustrated with waiting. I hope the election result is announced soon and that it’s possible for people to settle back into their normal routines soon.

Kenyan General Election - voting today

It's the general election in Kenya today. It has been a bit of a logistical nightmare for the tourist/service industry as everyone here has strong political views (revved up by the politics mad press) and all want to cast their own vote, whether it's voting for 'change' or voting for the re election of the incumbent president. Meanwhile, hotels are full of overseas tourists who won't understand that having their full english breakfast in the bush this morning may mean that the chef has been denied his right to vote. There may be some uncharacteristically grumpy Kenyan hotel staff today.

Meanwhile, in our Nairobi suburb, mile long queues stretching back from the area chief's office which is today a polling station are characterized by a calm air of patience. People are reading newspapers, chatting amicably, waiting in line ready to cast their vote. We all have fingers crossed for a fair election and a peaceful acceptance of whatever the outcome is. There are always fears of aggravated demonstrations and outbreaks of violence when the result is made known, as the running of this country is an emotive subject. The embassies are on high alert.

Lucy Kibaki, the current president's wife, made herself even more unpopular when she physically hit someone at a ceremony for incorrectly introducing her recently. Now the talk on th street is that she also beats her husband the President and that he drinks too much beer. The most likely 'aspirant' Raila Odinga went to cast his vote this morning in his constituency, only to find that his name was not listed on the register - slightly embarrassing for him. Watch this space.....

(This text sent to a friend by his gardener who had gone up country to vote, kind of sums up the feeling of this election, where everyone, however poor, feels that they have the power to make a change:

‘Hi Sir, I have just employ a new president and the only problem I have is that I haven’t found the bus to Nairobi. So I’ll see you on Monday morning!’)

Preparing for a Kenyan Christmas

I am busy getting ready for Christmas at the moment although we still haven’t put up a tree. We had a small growing casuarina tree in a pot that lasted a year or two and smelled nice (looked a little wispy) but sadly it died. Most people make do with ‘plastic fantastic’ as you can’t get proper Christmas trees here, but to get one that looks any good is tricky.

What I mean by ‘getting ready for christmas’ at the moment is sorting out things to give away to our staff by way of presents. Everyone gets a ‘thirteenth month’ salary, but I’ve struggled over the years to find appropriate presents. One year everyone got a chicken, but that was when we lived at the coast in Tanzania. I agonised about giving everyone food poisoning by handing out raw chickens (I don’t have a good track record – see previous post on ‘multiple poisoning’), so decided to deep freeze them all first. Then I worried that they might be cooked when not properly defrosted. Even worse! What I should have done was given out live chickens and everyone would have known exactly what to do.

Another year I bought new shoes for everyone, but a couple of crestfallen faces of those who didn’t approve of my ‘daggy’ choice, was enough to put me off that plan forever. I was once extremely proud of the second hand raincoats (one Burberry!) and Timberland boots I found for our staff, but the ladies were non plussed with the raincoats and I never ever saw the Timberlands worn by the gardeners (even though I’d obviously found out their exact shoe sizes).

It’s tradition in East Africa to give staff parcels of flour, sugar, tea, jam, margarine, salt, boiled sweets but I’ve resisted doing that as we buy everyone soap, tea, sugar etc every month and also it seems so damn boring, so I give supermarket gift vouchers instead and hope that it might be enough for a useful kettle or something pretty.

One year I decided to clear out the entire family’s wardrobe and hand over old clothes, shoes, bags and toys and struck gold. Everyone was thrilled – so now I do this every year. Generally I hand over items of my clothing that I immediately miss and wish I’d never thrown out. Or I spy Florence wearing a skirt or shirt of mine and think; ‘oh, yes, that was quite nice, it looks nicer on her than it did on me!’

So now, along with planning Christmas presents for everyone, writing cards, wrapping and hanging decorations, there’s this huge, manic clear out taking place with dusty cupboards being rummaged through and what should, strictly speaking, be termed as ‘spring cleaning’ is carried out in the last days before December 25th. It’s always worth doing though, as nothing goes to waste and the hoots of laughter that come from the staff quarters as our old belongings are fairly divvied up is priceless and a key part of Christmas for me now.

Seven year old musings

My daughter was gazing out of the window as we drove along Ngong road yesterday (in Nairobi) and she thoughfully said:
'I wish I could press a magic button in the car and it would mean that everyone would have food in Kenya, and then press another button and all the rubbish on the ground would be put into the bin.'
hmmm, wouldn't that be nice.

Expats Craving Stuff

I read in November’s ‘Tatler’ (it was a gift from a visitor from UK – thank you) about a website called: expatessentials.com - ‘British food for expats delivered worldwide’. From this company, you can order pots of Marmite (English, not the ‘not so nice’ South African version), McVities Hobnobs, Huggies nappies, Tescos tea bags, Birds custard powder, Marks and Spencers cereals. They even have a ‘christmas shop’ at the moment with: stuffings and gravy, Christmas pudding, Christmas cake, cards, wrapping paper, gifts (though I did note that it says ‘order by December 5th).

Wandering around (and around, and around) the Nairobi craft fair yesterday I was dismayed to note that a locally made and iced one kilo Christmas cake (it was tiny) cost 3,500 shillings (£25) and sadly I couldn’t bring myself to blow a quarter of my Christmas shopping cash on it. Even a single mince pie was 100 bob (75p) so I will definitely be making my own, or attempting to. The problem with ordering from the above fantastic website is that, for us ‘ordinary expats’ who are not Embassy or British Forces (and thus not enjoying a private import and duty free British Forces Post Office system) is revealed in the ‘small print’ disclaimer on the site that scuppers the whole idea:

‘The customer is responsible for the payment of any import duties, taxes and any other local charges levied in the country of residence. We have no control over these charges and cannot predict what they might be.’

It is almost guaranteed that here in East Africa, if the goods miraculously arrive then you will be charge even ten times the original price of the item for the honour bringing it in. In fact the amount you are charged is up to the customs official’s discretion and you might get him or her on a bad day. Hence, we are forced to shop locally and depend on local supermarkets to do the importing from UK and more importantly the customs clearance for us, which means our choices are limited and price tags sometimes astronomical, which always leads to multiple on the spot shopping decision making crises. However, I guess that living without makes our annual visits home and all the treats that lie in store there, that much sweeter.

Visit to Kibera slum (part 2)

We walked for hours through the slum. From the top (it’s kind of sprawled on the side of a hill), over the railway tracks (made famous by the film clip in the Constant Gardener), to the Kigulu shelter, then down to the dried up Nairobi dam at the bottom where Kibera ends, back up to the railway tracks again, then back to the shelter for present giving from our school party to the orphans.

On the way to the shelter we all had a heavy bag to carry, even each of the kids from our school had to carry something. The Christmas presents were put into black bin liners in order not to draw too much attention to them and they were awkward to hold because they were full of boxes. I carried a sack of maize flour and we were all watching our footing very carefully so as not to topple into the smelly ditches. It was quite comic to see us all walking along with our ‘santa’s sacks’, in a formal two row crocodile. My friend (another parent) was worrying about getting back from the depths of the slum, to get to a hair appointment that she’d booked ages ago and really didn’t want to miss (our hairdresser gets SOOOO booked up). We giggled so much about that – she wound up leaving early (with an escort to make sure she emerged safe) and sent me a text from what she called ‘the Salon of Guilt’, to see how I was getting on with the Kibera tour, as she plunged her cafetiere and flicked through the pages of ‘Hello’.

Walking through the slum we had joyful kids shouting out; ‘How are you! How are you!’ in English, reaching up to touch us, grab our hands and run beside us (the children were all tiny – smaller than other children who live in more ‘normal’ circumstances). As we walked along, we found that the narrow pathways sometimes, unexpectedly widened into a sort of ‘street’ full of dukas (shops/shacks) or we’d suddenly stumble on a dirt football field or an open space, then the next moment the place crowds in on you again and you are weaving through narrow paths, between shacks, using compacted rubbish stepping stones to negotiate over the open sewer/river courses. The open ditches filled with rubbish and stagnant water were everywhere, the smell often wafted over you in a choking stink of defecation. In the ditches are the slops from all the Kibera residents who are driven to use plastic bags and toss the contents away (known as flying toilets) because of lack of any other facilities. I noticed that it was not just us ‘outsiders’ picking around the smelly puddles, but all the residents were too. Everyone in the slum was tiptoeing around in an effort to keep clean. In spite of the criminal shortage of any water or electricity the people in Kibera are living out their life there with great pride – somehow everyone miraculously manages to keep clean (a teacher in the shelter was wearing a beautiful full length white dress for our special visit).

The amount of recycling that goes on in the slum is an incredible sight to behold, somehow the chaotic slum is a functioning, working place. The railway track was a real focal point, a hub of commerce, with everything on sale there from second hand plastic milk and cooking oil containers, to rusty old nails and screws, to second hand toilets and plumbing pipes. There are clothes stalls, shoes for sale, cow’s hoofs being barbequed to make use of the bone (that really stinks), chips and mandazis are being fried. There are hair salons, shops where you can pay to make use of the one phone there and make a call. There are even makeshift shacks showing films from pirated dvds and calling themselves a ‘cinema’. Along the walkways are men speeding along with mali carts or wheel barrows weighed down with scrap metal or charcoal, whistling for us to get out of their way or otherwise risk get mown down. The whole place is buzzing with activity – no one seems to have given up.

Another major problem of living in Kibera is that having very little electricity in the place it means that at night the slum is very dark, which consequently means that ‘security’ is a real problem – hence the upsurge in protection rackets where organised gangs insist on charging a fee to escort you to your home at night (see previous post on Mungiki). The local newspapers said last week that the ruling political party claim to have put more than 100 toilets into Kibera and ten new schools in the run up to the December general election, however, we only saw one new block of six long drops on our walk and our guide said that there have been very few changes, certainly not 100 new toilets and no schools – he said that it’s all lies.

In the slum there is nothing much to see other than piles of rubbish (mostly dirty plastic bags), miles of rusty corrugated iron roofing and mud shacks. There are almost no trees and certainly not a square inch of land given over to cultivation which is a tragedy, as to survive in the slum, incredibly, is actually expensive! You have to pay rent for a tiny space, in a tiny room, in a tiny shack with tons of other people and it’s not even cheap! (The Kigulu Orphanage said they had to pay 2,000 shillings per month for their three tiny rooms which would together fit into any normal size room in Europe). You have to somehow find money for all your meals and food without being able to grow anything. People scrape a living by selling other people’s rubbish, but to stay in Kibera you need an income.

There is a donor funded development of new housing currently being built on the outskirts of Kibera, where rooms will have bathrooms and running water. The donors hope that residents can move to this new accommodation, but sadly this has been tried before and what happened in another Nairobi slum; ‘Mathare Valley’ was that when similar housing was built no slum residents actually moved in, instead the rooms were rented out to others for more money than the slum dwellers could afford. Some were offered space in the new accommodation but preferred to sub let, thus continuing life in the slum for a little extra income for subsistence.

We finally got back to the shelter and gave out Christmas presents with much excitement and ladies ululating. It was all a squash, but our school kids managed to squeeze in and sing a couple of Christmas carols to the orphans who were beside themselves with excitement. The orphan children were supposed to sing too, but Peter explained to us that they did not want to leave their presents in class, to perform outside, for fear of losing them or things being stolen.

It had been a really moving morning. We returned to the bus totally dehydrated and exhausted with splitting headaches from walking in the sun but as we pulled away back into civilised living with proper shops, proper schools, beautiful trees and flowers my lasting impression was; ‘God that place must get you down, and yes, it really is dreadful. But how brave and incredible those people are.’

A morning in Kibera slum (part 1)

Our Group
Some teachers, x 25 ‘year eight’ students (aged 12-13) and a few mums from our school visited the Kigulu shelter for HIV orphans today in order to give Christmas presents to the tiny kids and discuss what form of help the shelter needed most for the future, i.e. how to best pass on the cash that our school parents association have raised. We parked at the local police post and noted the previous president’s smart house (Daniel Arap Moi), that overlooks the slum (he must have witnessed the slum grow from a small village to a gigantic sprawl over his ten years in power and also must have watched the Nairobi dam dry up beneath as a consequence). We also got a ‘tour of Kibera’ by a representative from the shelter, which wound up being a long walk on the uneven compacted rubbish that Kibera sits on for nearly two hours. We went from top to bottom and bottom to top. Walking is what the residents of Kibera do a lot of as they need to get to and from work cheaply and there are no 'public service vehicles' in Kibera (psv are mini buses/taxis). Our ex askari used to walk for three hours to get to our house for the night shift.

We made a large party with two khaki clad armed policemen for protection, all the groundsmen from our school in blue overalls (also for protection), lots of uniformed kids in wellies, three teachers, some mums and a smartly dressed and suited ‘Peter’ our representative from the shelter. All the teachers at the shelter are volunteers.

‘Slum Tourists’
I was slightly concerned about our group looking like ‘slum tourists’ (a bit like the ‘township tours’ you get in South Africa) and apparently I was right to feel sensitive about that, as we were told that the Kibera residents are feeling frustrated by groups of outsiders gazing at them; ‘like monkeys in a zoo’, especially when their situation in the slums never seems to improve. One of the fellow parents said that as part of her work last year she conducted a discussion group in Kibera, asking residents on the ground how they viewed the effectiveness of ‘aid’ to the slum.
‘Nothing ever happens’ they reported. ‘The smart cars drive in and out, the NGO offices are set up by representatives earning high salaries and shortly disappear again. None of the money reaches the people, nothing ever changes for us. We will be voting for a new government in December, as they might change things for us here. We are hoping for change.’

The Kigulu Shelter
The first thing that struck me on approaching the corrugated iron shelter was how absolutely tiny it is. In fact, looking round at the mud and stick houses you can see that everyone has to live in tiny spaces. There’s a rather smart (ie comparatively smart) mosque next door with a red painted iron roof and both are approached by a rickety wooden bridge over a rubbish filled open sewer/stream that last year’s leavers from our school constructed after their exams in June. One of our teachers said that it looked like a lot of the pieces of wood from the bridge had already been pilfered – maybe for firewood or materials for construction. That’s one of the hazards of using better quality building materials in Kibera, they can always be put to better use elsewhere! He also said that last year’s school leavers found the work in Kibera slum tough, but they told him it had been the highlight of their end of year ‘wider horizons’ programme (that had also included climbing Mount Kenya and white water rafting).

The ‘shelter’ consisted of two tiny rooms each with twenty five to thirty kids crammed in each. One classroom had no window so was completely dark, in spite of efforts last summer by our students to lighten it up with whitewash. There was a light bulb in evidence but the electricity bill had not been paid so they’d been cut off. My flash photography blinded the kids, but they hooted with laughter and screamed with delight when each picture was taken. There was no outside play area at all, just the makeshift building. Lots of ‘mothers’ were hanging outside the building and they attempted to sell beaded trinkets to us (the beads I gather had been previously donated by our school) – I felt hopeless about not having any cash on me – I’d even taken off my wedding ring to go into the slum so couldn’t even give 100 bob to the ladies (7 pence).

More about walking through Kibera, Donating the presents (the ‘mothers’ wanted presents too) and what might be the future of the slum?

Going to Kibera

Am going to Kibera slum tomorrow - finally. It's only 'finally', because I keep talking about going to visit our ex-askari who lives there (and invited us over) but never get around to it.

In fact, what happened was that I heard that my daughter's school were sending the parents association there to visit 'The Kigulu Shelter', (a small orphanage who are sponsored by the school) to deliver some christmas things. I'm not a member of the PA, but asked if I could come along anyway. It's about time I went and saw the Nairobi slum situation first hand. The senior kids in the school (age 13) go and visit after their common entrance exams, to re paint the shelter and carry out basic maintenance chores. Lots of schools here have similar arrangements with other slum schools/orphanages

It's one of the largest slums in Nairobi (home to 700,000 Kenyans), but by no means the only one sadly. 'Kibera' was made famous when it was featured in the film 'The Constant Gardener' last year.

I'll take my camera and tell you all about it.

Meanwhile, I'd like to confirm that I did buy the astronomical chocolate advent calendars for the kids and had peeled the price labels off them before I'd even left the shopping centre. After conducting a poll with a couple of friends we agreed that price labels we commonly peel off before getting home (in order to hide our excessive expenditure on silly little things from house staff) are: olive oil, bottles of wine, delicatessen cold cuts and chocolate.

For relevant previous posts see: 'Slum Statistics' and 'Donor Fatigue'

Mass Exodus - leaving the UK behind

Just read in an old Times Review (Nov 18th) that: '400,000 British citizens went to live overseas last year. More than half of them have settled in Australia and New Zealand (32%) or France and Spain (24%):

'An exodus on this scale, amounts to one British citizen leaving the country every three minutes'

'It's much easier to get out of bed when it's 25c' said Matt an IT consultant who left Banbury in Oxfordshire for Brisbane, Australia.'

Quite often people back home want to know exactly what it's like to leave UK and how it is to live overseas. That's kind of an unquantifiable question - but I guess the answer might be:

It's harder than you think, but you often don't realise that at the time because everything is new, exciting and you are fully committed to making a success of the experience once you have made the momentous decision to go. Only when you are settled into your new life, is it possible to look back on the comparative struggle you've been through but whatever the outcome, you'll have learned a lot and broadened your horizons enormously.

Mental note: remember the cup is half full, not half empty?!?