School trip

Yesterday morning our eldest daughter went off on her very first 2 night 'residential' school trip.  All week we have been in a lather of anticipation.  They are camping at the foot of Mount Kenya. 

My husband said, 'I don't understand?  What are they actually going to be doing there?'
My daughter said, 'it's just about environment, conservation and stuff.  We are going to go for walks, look at animals, that sort of thing.'
I quietly thought to myself, 'wasn't there something in the newspapers about a tourist being crushed to death by an elephant while out walking around Mount Kenya?' but kept my mouth shut.

Last term we got a comprehensive packing list so have had plenty of time to plan ahead.  On the list it said;
'At night it gets very cold. Children may need to sleep in socks, tracksuit and hat!'

Needless to say, I left everything to the last minute.  On Tuesday I looked in the cupboard for our warmest Nakumatt sleeping bag and found it was definitely missing.  I remembered last seeing it when our eldest took it off to a sleepover in early March.  Damn.  After frantic texting to a fellow mum it became clear that the sleeping bag had vanished.  Plus our daughter does not own a warm hat, unless you count the one she still has in her drawer that she wore at 9 months (she's now 9 years!).  The day before I'd tried to stretch it over her head, but she wasn't having any of it.

Shoehorning a trip to the only decent camping supplies shop in Nairobi on Tuesday was a bit of a trial with traffic etc, but  it was worth it when I found a children's sleeping bag that was better than anything else we had at home.  I also managed to buy two fleece hats in different sizes. I bought the first one from the camping shop where there was little choice and they only had hats in adult sizes.   I then went to Woolworths and found it was choc full of winter things with lots of (cheaper) warm hats and scarves for children!  I didn't have time to take the first one back. 

Feeling rather proud and well prepared (though she didn't have the required 'warm jacket' on the list) I went to pick up my daughter from school.

'The teachers said that the Mums and Dads are not allowed to phone us all the time checking that we are alright.  And by the way, absolutely everything for the trip has to be named,' she announced, 'even my pants.'

Hell! I thought, before miraculously finding iron on name tapes that I must have bought four years ago and never used.  That evening we took everything out of her bag and armed with iron and black marker pen, named everything, even the toothbrush, the plastic bag holding the bedding and a plastic bag for dirty wellies.  The name tapes in her pants might well prove to be be itchy. 

Meanwhile, my daughter was pencil ticking items off the list.  Thanks to her we remembered at the last minute to find a soap dish and flannel.
'Shouldn't I name the flannel?' my daughter asked.
'Let's not bother,' I said, 'I'm sure you will be the only one to have a picture of a baby lion on your flannel anyway.'

That night I lay awake thinking (as my husband snored), without the warm jacket she's definitely going to freeze!  The problem is that there isn't much call for warm jackets in Nairobi in regular day-to-day life and having lived in East Africa all their lives, none of our children have any real concept of being cold.  At 6am I added two further jumpers to the bag, then realised over the usual rushed breakfast that they too had to be named.  These ones I did in biro.

After adding the jumpers I gave my daughter a mini lecture about layering, I said it would be as cold as it was skiing (shame we had returned all that borrowed warm kit!) and about how she would certainly be cold at night.

'It actually wasn't cold at night when we were skiing,' she said, 'in fact, the hotel was quite warm.'

Ahhh! I wasn't getting my message across.  I said that she could wear a long sleeved t-shirt, thin fleece, thick fleece, scarf, hat then the (not warm) rain jacket.  I also packed her sheepskin slippers.

By 7am my daughter had boarded the school bus and was gone.  I got a call from my friend,
'Did you remember the camera?'
CAMERA! I thought, I never saw that one on the list!  And there's a disposable one just sitting here in a drawer!  Double damn.

This morning it was raining cats and dogs and I thought of her but reasoned, oh well, I'm sure she'll survive!  I don't dare phone.

Self Diagnosis and still raining...

On Friday night, at a slightly eccentric fund raiser for the Rhino Ark Trust/Rhino Charge, I met two people who said they read my blog prior to moving to Kenya saying it was good to read the perspective of a 'normal' expat in Kenya.  I think that once they are settled in, they stop reading, however it was a pretty nice feeling, but it reminded me that I haven't been very good about updating this of late.

There's not so much to report.  I had a tummy bug last week that made me more cranky and shouty than usual.  I knew it must be giardiasis as, over the past eleven years, I've had it a few times before and it feels exactly like you are in the early stages of pregnancy.  i.e. general nausea - all the time.  When you mention you are not feeling 100% friends say 'Oh my, are you really sure you're not pregnant?'  and you have to stop and think - 'of course not'..... but then think, what if there was a million to one chance I am because while I know I can't be, I have been pregnant 3 times and that is exactly what it feels like!!'  It's all agony.  I'm not alone because I've mentioned to one or two people how giardiasis is like pregnancy and they say, 'I KNOW - Gives you a heart attack doesn't it!'

Tummy bugs here are as common as coughs and colds are in England - though I have to admit, it's been a while since my last bout.  I wrongly or rightly blame the wet weather.  I often find tummy things are more widespread then.  My husband, who gets bugs more often than me, complains that I am totally unsympathetic and aways tell him to wait it out, meanwhile when I get ill, I am headed straight off down to the chemist.

What is odd is that here in Kenya you don't need a prescription to buy medicine, so while I don't necessarily recommend it, people who have lived here for some time and get tired of carrying around stool samples in paper bags, tend to swerve the doctor and self-diagnose (with the help of the pharmacist).  I guess this is a dangerous roulette to play, but is good when it works out.  This time I got ill one weekend, took cyprofloxacin (for bacterial stomach complaints), got better for 5 days, then a week later felt ill again (the nausea) so took Gabboral.  Now I am fully cured (fingers crossed) and fortunately definitely not pregnant - so, a sigh of relief all round.  I know, you may think I am mad, but really, everyone does this from time to time, mostly to save time and money.

Buying medicines over the counter means I can buy good imported US exczema cream for my sister in England whenever she needs it and as a family we can carry treatment for malaria on safari 'just in case'.  Often we can buy drugs such as anti-malarials cheaper here too, so for visitors it's worth enquiring how much the pills cost locally before forking out hundreds of pounds/dollars on prophylactics overseas. 

On other news, it's still raining.  Often we have sunny days but it regularly pours at night.  Since living over here, I have always had a terrible guilt about the poor nightwatchman outside.  They are there when you cook a delicious supper, knocking at the kitchen window asking for light bulbs when you least expect it, opening the gate and on duty in the rain.  I'm pretty sure that it being a nightwatchman must be the most sucky job in the world.  When we lived in Tanzania I used to give the guys mosquito repellent and a flask of tea, made just before we went to bed, every night.  4 years of; 'Have you made the tea yet?' just as we rolled off to bed became quite a chore.  Now I buy 4 kilos of sugar and 200 teabags a month and they do it themselves.  Though there are lots of dry places for Safari and Barnabas to shelter, on nights when it rains I lie awake and wince. 

Having said that, last week at the supermarket car park I was recognised by a KK guard who said he knew me because he has worked a few nights relief shift at our place (I have to admit shamefacedly, I didn't really recognise him back).

I said, 'lucky you, you work during the day now! It must be much better and more interesting?'
He said, 'No, I much prefer nights.  Night work is better because then you have your afternoons!  I keep asking to change my shift but they won't let me.'
I now stand corrected.

Ash Cloud - Kenya

Imagine my surprise this morning to learn that my sister and brother-in-law are stranded in the USA because of the ash cloud.  They went there for a friend's wedding.  I knew that they were going for a long weekend, but did not have the sense to put two and two together.  My mum is looking after their kids aged 3 and 1 in England.  What a nightmare.  And there I was, over the weekend thinking - lucky no one I know has been badly affected!!  Sometimes it's annoying being so far away from home  - apart from anything you get family gossip SOOO late - or otherwise miss dramas entirely!  I think it's probably my fault for not keeping in touch enough.  We do have skype, texts, emails etc. but our land telephone line has been down since before Christmas (the copper wire got stolen and looks like it is unlikely to ever be replaced) and it's all too tempting to retreat into a news blackout cave, especially at weekends. 

The big picture of global repercussions is almost impossible for me to comprehend and probably has yet to be quantified.  If nothing else it highlights how we have all become so reliant on air travel/transportation in daily life.  It goes without saying that tourists are stranded here - but at least it is low season.

As one reader pointed out (see comments) the real disaster in Kenya is that flowers, fruits and vegetables have been left rotting at the airport for four days and counting.  Flowers are Kenya's main export (representing 20% of all exports from Kenya) so obviously a huge source of income.  In fact, exporters here are now being asked to come back and pick their backlog of produce up from Jomo Kenyatta Airport in Nairobi.

The Daily Nation today quoted Stephen Mbithi, chief exec of The Fresh Produce Exporters Association of Kenya who said,
'On average we ship some 1,000 tonnes worth $3 million per day.'  He continued,
'We have handled drought, El Nino and the post-election violence, but we have not seen anything like this.'

Mrs Jane Ngige, CEO of the Kenya Flower Council said,
'The headache now is where to take the produce.  Do we dump the flowers in Dandora? What about the fruits? Where does one take so many?'


My M-I-L just sent me this link to today's telegraph on the subject of how Kenyan growers have been affected:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/africaandindianocean/kenya/7612869/Iceland-volcano-As-the-dust-settles-Kenyas-blooms-wilt.html

Things are looking up

1. It’s raining a lot in Kenya. When considering whether to get out of the car at the dentist yesterday and doing battle with a persistent trickle that was coming in through the sunroof, a smiling faced askari (watchman) appeared at my door with an umbrella and proceed to escort me and the 2 children to the door of the surgery. It was raining cats and dogs, we got covered in mud over the space 20 metres in a paved car park and I was tutting – but the askari, whose job it is to stand in the rain all day, was not miserable but all smiles.

‘Rain is good! People can grow food, we are so lucky to have this wonderful rain! It will continue all day’ he said, ecstatic.

It’s funny not to consider rain a nuisance like we do in the UK. Here so many people are happy to put up with the inconvenience – i.e. nowhere dry to walk, flooded roads, mud everywhere, fallen trees, delays. I get the impression that this might be because so many Nairobites have strong links to their ‘up-country’ homes. Rain means that the extended family will prosper when crops flourish, thus alleviating pressure on the townies to provide.

It also means that Kenya is back on hydroelectric power, so our bills will come down a bit.

2. The new harmonized draft constitution has miraculously been passed by Government, in spite of various factions putting up resistance and making a fuss at the time. After much deliberation, even the church has decided not to fight it (there was a sticky issue on abortion). The fact that the President and Prime Minister are working hard to appear united and behind the proposed constitution in advance of the Referendum is a good, positive thing. The ‘oranges and bananas’ referendum in 2005 was a fiasco – becoming a mini election campaign of its own. Only MP William Ruto is trying to politicise the whole draft constitution debate and he’s inciting the public to vote ‘no’, but at the same time he is noticeably floundering in his search for political support and finding himself increasingly out in the cold.

3. I gather that Obama’s doing pretty well in the States, pushing through his healthcare bill and giving the Israeli president short shrift, generally showing his political mettle of late. This is always a good thing, after all, he is a major Kenyan role model.

4. Moreno Ocampo is pushing ahead with his investigations into who were the perpetrators of the 2007 post election violence. It has been locally reported that the violence was organised on a grand and shockingly brutal way.  PNU apparently hired Administration Police officers to stuff ballot papers in Raila Odinga's strongholds and many of them were subsequently murdered.

http://www.standardmedia.co.ke/InsidePage.php?id=2000007455&cid=4&story=How plan to hire APs was reached

So, Ocampo submitted to his Hague superiors 20 names of Kenyan politicians and business people who were suspected of being the instigators and got permission to go ahead and investigate. There has been a witness protection scheme organised and rumour has it that some key witnesses have got new identities, while others have been flown out of Kenya to make sure they are safe ahead of the trial. 

MPs say they are worried that Ocampo beginning investigations now may destabilise the smooth running of the referendum to pass the new constitution - but from the public’s point of view, there couldn’t be any better time to see justice done - they just can't wait to know the names! Ocampo is due in town next month.

By the time the widely dreaded 2012 election comes around, there is a good chance that the political picture could be very different.  Who knows, it may not be the bloodbath that cynics predict.  I am ever the optimist!

p.s. - sorry to anyone caught up in the ash cloud drama!

Kibera 2

We did go to Kibera to see our ex-nightwatchman, Cosmas. On Friday we caught the end of his 2 day workshop on HIV/Aids awareness that forms part of his Hope Life Action Trust - an NGO project that he heroically set up off his own bat and FINALLY got sponsorship for.

The first workshop (that we visited) was training, targeted at girls aged 10-18, the next will be for 'the youth' - men aged 20-35. He said that the spur to set up the project was the story of a girl in the community, whose mum died of Aids, then her dad died, then she was then taken in and 'looked after' by neighbours who abused her, she fell pregnant, was persuaded to have a backstreet abortion, then died of complications after that. This story is scarily closer to the norm that we would like to think - I have even heard a similar one once before from my orphanage friends.

For me, it's almost a joke how things in one city can be such poles apart. That day, I went from expensive hairdressing salon/salubrious shopping centre to slum in one day - though to be honest, Kibera is not that different to a trip to a mitumba/second hand clothing market (which was raided by city council officials when I went there last week - bit scary).

'Just a typical day in Kenya then,' my friend said on the phone.

The hairdresser in the smart shopping centre said to me in the morning,

'are you sure you don't want a blow dry?' and I said,
'no, I'm going to Kibera this afternoon'
and she said,
'Oh, I see, I quite understand.'

Kibera is a cliche. There are lots of slums in Nairobi and elsewhere in Kenya - but Kibera is the one everybody talks about. Possibly this is wrong as it detracts from the others, Kawangware, Dandora, Mathare etc. But on the other hand - perhaps to focus on Kibera means that it gives the slum problem in Kenya a sort of face that people can relate to - which cannot be a bad thing.

The housing in Kibera and indeed any slum is not dissimilar to the mud hut arrangements/corrugated iron roofs, that can be found in villages all over rural Kenya - it's just that in a slum there's no view, no trees, no grass, no space - just thousands of people and many sanitation problems. There is rubbish dumped here and there - we even saw a pig foraging in one place - But I don't think that people in Kibera are to be pitied - everyone who lives there is streetwise and savvy, prevailing over a difficult set of circumstances, working the system.

When you go in your impression of Kibera is that it is a working place, busy, thriving on tiny scale enterprise, full of children, dogs, music blaring from radios, washing hanging on lines, plus there's a community there. I wished I could take thousands of photographs of people going about their business - but that would not have been right, and it would not have helped because still the pictures would have elicited responses of, 'Oh - poor Africa - there it is again laid bare and hopeless.'

'Nobody is fighting here any more' we were told by Cosmas in reference to post-election violence that shook up and fragmented the place. 'Until next time' my husband cynically added. I nearly kicked him and muttered something about The Hague under my breath.

When we hurried behind Cosmas through the busy streets and along the railway track we saw a small posho mill filling sacks with maize flour, dvd hire shop, blow dryer blaring behind the net curtain of a hair salon, three men working on re-vamping some sort of engine. Many of the side of the road vendors are selling items that we would class as rubbish. Old electrical items, bits of broken mobile phones, second hand loo seats, old boots, recycled plastic containers, charcoal in black stained margarine pots. There's food too, maize roasted on coals, fried fish, mandazis, chips. Cosmas, meanwhile, was answering his mobile phone every two minutes, fielding calls.

You have to walk fast and concentrate hard on where you are putting your feet as there is mud and open sewage everywhere - but everyone in Kibera is careful where they put their feet and all are tidy and immaculately turned out. We passed a huge, walled Catholic Church and walked along the edge of an acre of dirt - mostly mud as it had rained recently - which is the area used as football playing field and congregation centre for the local community.

I thanked Cosmas for inviting us to see his project as to bring two white people into the slum draws all sorts of the wrong attention. However, contrary to what one might expect, no one asked us for money or indeed anything - but at the same time everyone commented on our presence - you could hear them and children cried out 'Howayou' and chased us, grabbing our hands like celebrities.

We first were taken to Cosmas's offices which were rather pathetic because it was so dark inside the single room with just one tiny window. He plans to put a clear plastic corrugated sheet in the roof to let in more light. Once our eyes had adjusted we looked at all the hand written posters around the walls which were mission statements and lists of aims of the group. We were then introduced to Cosmas's team of volunteers who were seated on benches whose tasks varied from counselling HIV positive clients, producing bead necklaces (sustainable income) and running micro finance/savings schemes for the local community. There were some boxes in there containing AMREF flyers to be handed out. Cosmas talked the talk, using all the NGO jargon, but believed in it all and I guess he's a big man now having suceeded in something.

We then went to the church which had been hired as a venue where the training session was going on. There were sixty girls on plastic seats whose workshop was drawing to a close after what we suspected were a very long two days. The girls were being told frankly, but by a nice lady with enough humour, about abstinence, condoms, going for HIV testing, supporting others who might test positive, not to ostracise them, that it was possible to have a healthy life with HIV because there is help out there. They discussed openly dispelling myths about HIV, about having babies in a hospital, testing if you are pregnant, testing if you are raped. There were question and answer sessions. It was all very matter of fact.

The girls shuffled, fiddled with pens and papers, whispered, giggled, scraped their chairs, fumbled in plastic bags, disappeared off to the loo, a chicken pecked about inside the church. Adults and organisers at the back drank tea. A high point (for us observers) was when the girls were asked to come up and present the HIV awareness poems and skits they had put together for the session. There were some amazing songs, lots more giggles and some fabulous entertainers. The ones that didn't want to didn't have to go up. Some of the girls were in normal, modest clothes, some veiled and some in black bui-bui robes. Cosmas said they had tried to find girls from all over the slum, so that they could be ambassadors and pass on the message to others in their communities. There was some consternation when the certificates Cosmas had drawn up could not be handed out because they were not yet signed by the right people. The girls were outraged. My husband told Cosmas later - you'd better have the certificates ready when you have 'the youth' training - otherwise you might have a riot on your hands!!

We were supposed to see where Cosmas lived on the way back, but he ended up not showing us. We sensed he was tired and didn't want to push it. It was rush hour in Kibera by then, with hundreds of people rushing in and out, to and from work. If we walked three abreast, we blocked the uneven road and people tutted because we were walking too slowly. When we got to the District Officer's compound where our car was parked, Cosmas told us about how his group so desperately need a computer, mostly to tabulate their results.
'Sometimes it rains inside our office and the papers get spoiled.'

When I got home I, of course, saw our lovely home and garden with fresh, more appreciating eyes and thought I'd try not to complain for a few days. But sadly, it didn't last long. Perhaps I should think about Cosmas's little office of hope every day.

Easter day

Re-entry to Kenya has been trickier than usual after our lovely skiing holiday. To be honest, it has felt rather boring. We spent this Easter unusually at home, not travelling, no family or friends to stay, so it was quiet....to say the least.

On Saturday night I was struck by an idea. We should all to go to church! The one problem with my plan was which Nairobi church to choose?

Once, struck by a similar mood, we tried St Francis Church near our house. We pitched up for the 'youth service' thinking, sunday school for the kids etc. Our 3 little girls were trussed up in smock dresses by me (this was some years ago), only to find an empty church. The 'Youth Service' was actually taking place in a hall behind the church and comprised of teenagers singing into microphones. Last year we were in England so went to a lovely village service near my sister's home. The sun streamed in through the windows, the church was full of primroses and afterwards the female vicar offered mini-eggs to all the children.

Another local option near us is The Vineyard church - but I was looking for something more traditional. On Sunday morning, we looked up the Childrens Church, Westlands on the internet and learned that services take place at around 10am. At 9.30 we left home in a flurry of breakfast things, hotcross buns and chocolate, to find the place - it was quite a drive but fortunately on Easter morning the traffic was clear.

When we arrived at 10 we discovered that the service had begun at 9.15. Next, on my insistence and not wanting to waste a trip, we tried the Cathedral - even further to drive, to find, once again, a packed church and a service already in full swing. The whole plan was typical me - critically flawed, ie. without proper planning and preparation. My husband was feeling ill with a sore tummy anyway so we went home. The round trip had taken more than an hour.

Once we got home he took to his bed and I started hand-washing the borrowed ski gear, sloshing water all over our kitchen floor. Our eldest whined that the Easter Bunny was taking his sweet time to come round to visit. I was elbow deep in suds. My husband was feeling worse and locked himself in the loo.

Later, after the Easter bunny had thankfully arrived, the girls and I ate at home the picnic that we were supposed to have been taking into Nairobi National Park for an Easter outing. The power was off all day. By 4pm I cracked. I called my husband out of bed to switch on the generator (it only starts with a rope pull and I can never manage it) and put on a dvd for the kids.

I guess you need these down days sometimes, I reasoned to myself, especially after particularly fun holidays.

My friend in England sent a happy easter text. When I moaned she responded, 'it can't be fun and games all the time,' adding, '.....I have now officially turned into my mother.

On monday, all was better - we had friends with children over for lunch and shared lots of laughs.

Now the sun is shining and the worst of the rain seems to be over or at least it rains only at night (which always makes me feel so bad for the nightwatchman who is dutifully stationed outside doing what is quite possibly the worst job in the world). There's still nearly 2 weeks more school holidays, but funnily enough, the children have been fine with hanging around at home doing nothing much at all. It has only been me with itchy feet and now, hopefully, I'm over it.

Am thinking of going to see our ex-nightwatchman's Kibera based HIV awareness project, which is finally off the ground, later in the week. He is running some training workshops and invited us but I am not sure if I/we will simply get in the way. We missed the launch of his project because we were skiing, I also would have to fit the visit around a hair appointment - I ask you, how can two worlds be any more different?