I was having a chat with a friend quite some time ago but thought it would be nice to share...
We were having dinner and I asked her about the significance of the toothpick. You see, in Kenya, there are toothpicks on every table in every restaurant - no matter how nice the place may be or how many stars it may be rated. People eat their four or five course meal and then take a toothpick and conduct nothing short of root canal for a few minutes. It still catches me by surprise. Picking food out of your teeth is something that most Americans hold for quality, private bathroom time.
My friend enlightened me... "The toothpick is a status symbol...it means you've eaten meat...so when you see men walking around town with a toothpick in their mouth, they're letting everyone know that they've had meat...that they can afford to eat meat..."
"The toothpick is a status symbol?"
"Yes, of course. Men who can afford to eat meat walk around with toothpicks in their mouths every day and get large pot bellies so you can 'see' their wealth...if they didn't have the toothpick, how would you know that they could afford to eat meat every day?"
There's always something to learn here...that's what makes it all so interesting, challenging, frustrating and great.
Friday, August 27, 2010
Watching History
I'm watching history this morning. Kenyans have finally voted YES to a new constitution (to replace the document written when the English granted independence about 60 years ago) and it's really emotional to watch. Kenya is struggling to find itself in a new age. It seems like Kenya is trying so hard to elevate itself and its people out of poverty and into a new way of life...it's been a long struggle since fighting the English for independence...through brutal dictatorships that Africa is famous for...and through violent elections. But today as I watch the television I just feel very proud of Kenya for not giving up...Kenyans never seem to get tired of trying. They have fought a good fight and now have a new constitution that, isn't perfect, but goes a long way to bringing balance back to the country's legal systems as it grants equal protection under the law and provides more opportunity to Kenyans who have, until now, been pushed aside. The Chief Justice and Attorney General who have had their jobs for far too long and who have overseen and participated in some of the worst corruption scandals and rights abuses have to leave office which I think is one of the best things about this document. The old regime is slowly being pushed out and Kenyans seem to understand, maybe for the first time, that their government works for them...they are in office to serve... It's a very proud day and I'm very lucky to have been able to be here to watch this. It's a new beginning and I just hope that Kenyans seize the opportunity and make the most of it...moving ahead in a positive direction for all Kenyans and proving to be a shining example to all other African countries still choked by horribly written constitutions that have no value, fake elections and sloppy dictatorships...
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Maternity Leave
So...
My great house-help Faith worked her last day Friday as she has gone on maternity leave. Faith is due on the 16th of August. To be honest, I didn't know she was pregnant. My boyfriend TB asked me one day, "is Faith pregnant?". Of course I said no. I thought she just had a belly like most women in Kenya. But he got me thinking. So a few weeks later Faith was working in the house and I asked her if she was pregnant. "Yes", she said. I asked her when she was due...August...(mind you I was asking her in June!). I then asked her why she didn't tell me sooner and she honestly didn't have an answer. I understood. Faith was afraid that I would be angry that she was pregnant and that her job would be in jeopardy. Clearly, I wasn't angry and told her as much. And then I broke the news. It is Kenyan law that any female employee (and yes Faith is considered an employee) who is pregnant has a legal right to take 90 days of paid maternity leave without exception. Faith nearly fell over. I further explained that the 90 days leave was paid...imagine.
In America, you're put on disability (assuming you paid into it) when you deliver and you might get six weeks to recuperate before you're back to work. That's a pretty normal plan. There's no federally mandated maternity leave law that I'm aware of. The states have been left to develop their own requirements. Wisconsin, I'm told, requires a 30 day maternity leave - but I've no idea if that's paid. It all seems fairly barbaric.
Back to Faith. So I've known for a few months that I would have to find a temporary replacement for Faith...ugh. Faith is the niece of a good friend. I trust Faith. Faith has keys to my house. Faith likes the cats and takes care of them. She's got a great sense of humor and works really hard. Faith is great. How to replace her? Enter Anita. Anita works for my boyfriend. She does a great job - his flat is always really sharp. So Anita is now working in my house. We'll see how she does. I have high hopes. Anita is very happy to have another job - she's literally doubled her salary for the next three months which is going to be great.
Faith returns 1 November...or she may choose to stay home and do something else. It happens. I've had quite a few friends tell me that I'm being 'really nice'. That although the law is very clear on maternity leave...most don't offer it. And Kenyans don't know their rights well enough to exercise them - or they're just afraid. I don't know. What type of woman would I be if I told another woman she couldn't exercise her maternity leave rights - the same rights that if I were to have a baby I'd demand for myself?
Faith is going to call the baby Elvis if it's a boy...and Agnes if it's a girl. I've not met a Kenyan named Elvis so this might be a first. Is she marrying the father? I asked her and she replied, "No way!". Funny. Faith's boyfriend is just a boyfriend. Faith wanted a baby - and now she has one. It's a trend here...that's rapidly growing in popularity - date a guy to get a baby - but not a husband...
I wish Faith all the best and look forward to her phone call...and I'm excited to meet Elvis!
My great house-help Faith worked her last day Friday as she has gone on maternity leave. Faith is due on the 16th of August. To be honest, I didn't know she was pregnant. My boyfriend TB asked me one day, "is Faith pregnant?". Of course I said no. I thought she just had a belly like most women in Kenya. But he got me thinking. So a few weeks later Faith was working in the house and I asked her if she was pregnant. "Yes", she said. I asked her when she was due...August...(mind you I was asking her in June!). I then asked her why she didn't tell me sooner and she honestly didn't have an answer. I understood. Faith was afraid that I would be angry that she was pregnant and that her job would be in jeopardy. Clearly, I wasn't angry and told her as much. And then I broke the news. It is Kenyan law that any female employee (and yes Faith is considered an employee) who is pregnant has a legal right to take 90 days of paid maternity leave without exception. Faith nearly fell over. I further explained that the 90 days leave was paid...imagine.
In America, you're put on disability (assuming you paid into it) when you deliver and you might get six weeks to recuperate before you're back to work. That's a pretty normal plan. There's no federally mandated maternity leave law that I'm aware of. The states have been left to develop their own requirements. Wisconsin, I'm told, requires a 30 day maternity leave - but I've no idea if that's paid. It all seems fairly barbaric.
Back to Faith. So I've known for a few months that I would have to find a temporary replacement for Faith...ugh. Faith is the niece of a good friend. I trust Faith. Faith has keys to my house. Faith likes the cats and takes care of them. She's got a great sense of humor and works really hard. Faith is great. How to replace her? Enter Anita. Anita works for my boyfriend. She does a great job - his flat is always really sharp. So Anita is now working in my house. We'll see how she does. I have high hopes. Anita is very happy to have another job - she's literally doubled her salary for the next three months which is going to be great.
Faith returns 1 November...or she may choose to stay home and do something else. It happens. I've had quite a few friends tell me that I'm being 'really nice'. That although the law is very clear on maternity leave...most don't offer it. And Kenyans don't know their rights well enough to exercise them - or they're just afraid. I don't know. What type of woman would I be if I told another woman she couldn't exercise her maternity leave rights - the same rights that if I were to have a baby I'd demand for myself?
Faith is going to call the baby Elvis if it's a boy...and Agnes if it's a girl. I've not met a Kenyan named Elvis so this might be a first. Is she marrying the father? I asked her and she replied, "No way!". Funny. Faith's boyfriend is just a boyfriend. Faith wanted a baby - and now she has one. It's a trend here...that's rapidly growing in popularity - date a guy to get a baby - but not a husband...
I wish Faith all the best and look forward to her phone call...and I'm excited to meet Elvis!
Kenya's Referendum
So...4 August 2010 is Referendum Day in Kenya. Kenyans, after waiting for countless years through political upheavals, will get to vote whether to accept or decline the new constitution. Its been a very long process indeed. I can't imagine writing a new constitution. The American Constitution hasn't been touched (save for an amendment here or there) since it was first constructed which is amazing. The idea that we would take the document, "revise it", vote on it, and enact it is absolutely foreign. Although I think at times - not for the best. Can a document created over 200 years ago remain entirely relevant?
They say that South Africa has the most "socially evolved" policies in that it protects everyone - even gays - from discrimination, etc. Equal rights for EVERYONE regardless of their gender or sexuality is guaranteed...imagine.
Kenya's new constitution doesn't offer the same protection. There was hope last year while it was being drafted that rights for all (including gays) would be included - not so. The church in Kenya remains all too powerful (think Vatican without the big building or Pope)... The church controls a lot of the political will and pastors and other religious leaders have been very busy telling their congregations how to vote which seems monstrous. There have been confirmed reports of some church leaders denying church members communion unless they showed their voter registration card and/or confirmed that they would vote per the church's advice. Even more repugnant is the work of multiple faith-based NGO's in America who have channeled millions of dollars into Kenya leading to the vote to vote NO! They want a No! vote because the new constitution, while proclaiming that life begins at conception (the most conservative language in any constitution in the world in that it declares when life begins) allows for the possibility of abortion should the mother's life be in danger - a doctor's confirmation of the risk is required. Forget how you feel about abortion - that's a fairly tiresome debate. Imagine if you will America preparing to vote on a new constitution and the Chinese subverting the vote because they disagreed with one or two passages...or the Saudis...pick your poison.
People are nervous throughout Kenya that violence will erupt after the voting results are declared. Great political power is at stake. Retired former President Moi (a dictator by all counts who had torture chambers used regularly) and Minister for Higher Education William Ruto (a very dangerous politician) have spent countless days and funds traveling from one end of the country to the other telling people that the new constitution will mean that people lose their land. LAND IS POWER. In Kenya, like most of Africa, how much land you own equals how powerful you are... So when you tell Kenyans (65% of whom are illiterate) that the new constitution has clauses to "reclaim" ancestral and/or tribal lands, you get a bunch of people upset and ready to vote No and ready to get violent if they need to... The constitution by the way doesn't take land away - so long as you have a legal title/right to it. It does not allow squatters or "land grabbers" to keep illegally obtained land.
I hope that Kenya can refrain from violence. The day has been declared a national holiday to ensure that all registered voters get a chance to cast their vote. I'm staying home on Referendum Day. I've bought some extra groceries, some new movies, and plan to hang out at home to relax. I'm praying for Kenya...praying that this vote will begin a new era in Kenyan law and that some equality and integrity will be brought into a very corrupt political and legal framework.
They say that South Africa has the most "socially evolved" policies in that it protects everyone - even gays - from discrimination, etc. Equal rights for EVERYONE regardless of their gender or sexuality is guaranteed...imagine.
Kenya's new constitution doesn't offer the same protection. There was hope last year while it was being drafted that rights for all (including gays) would be included - not so. The church in Kenya remains all too powerful (think Vatican without the big building or Pope)... The church controls a lot of the political will and pastors and other religious leaders have been very busy telling their congregations how to vote which seems monstrous. There have been confirmed reports of some church leaders denying church members communion unless they showed their voter registration card and/or confirmed that they would vote per the church's advice. Even more repugnant is the work of multiple faith-based NGO's in America who have channeled millions of dollars into Kenya leading to the vote to vote NO! They want a No! vote because the new constitution, while proclaiming that life begins at conception (the most conservative language in any constitution in the world in that it declares when life begins) allows for the possibility of abortion should the mother's life be in danger - a doctor's confirmation of the risk is required. Forget how you feel about abortion - that's a fairly tiresome debate. Imagine if you will America preparing to vote on a new constitution and the Chinese subverting the vote because they disagreed with one or two passages...or the Saudis...pick your poison.
People are nervous throughout Kenya that violence will erupt after the voting results are declared. Great political power is at stake. Retired former President Moi (a dictator by all counts who had torture chambers used regularly) and Minister for Higher Education William Ruto (a very dangerous politician) have spent countless days and funds traveling from one end of the country to the other telling people that the new constitution will mean that people lose their land. LAND IS POWER. In Kenya, like most of Africa, how much land you own equals how powerful you are... So when you tell Kenyans (65% of whom are illiterate) that the new constitution has clauses to "reclaim" ancestral and/or tribal lands, you get a bunch of people upset and ready to vote No and ready to get violent if they need to... The constitution by the way doesn't take land away - so long as you have a legal title/right to it. It does not allow squatters or "land grabbers" to keep illegally obtained land.
I hope that Kenya can refrain from violence. The day has been declared a national holiday to ensure that all registered voters get a chance to cast their vote. I'm staying home on Referendum Day. I've bought some extra groceries, some new movies, and plan to hang out at home to relax. I'm praying for Kenya...praying that this vote will begin a new era in Kenyan law and that some equality and integrity will be brought into a very corrupt political and legal framework.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Trusting your instincts
So...
I'm in this strange place right now where my gut is telling me that things aren't working out in my private life for loads of reasons... The major contributing factor to all of this is that we just like to live very different social lives. No one is good or bad. In fact, he's a very good soul and man. We just don't understand each other when it comes to spending time together. I'd like to go to a movie...dinner...a walk...a hike...a drive...a picnic...a trip to town to just check it out on Sunday...happy hour drinks...dancing once in a while...hell just running errands together.
Dating in Kenya is an extraordinary effort that I've yet to really even start to understand. My "American" instincts are constantly pushing back at situations that don't seem to make a whole lot of sense and advice from Kenyan friends to not react "too harshly" or "too American" pushes in the other direction. Life in the middle...again. It's a difficult thing to navigate--when do you listen to your instincts despite their heavy Americaness and when do you adopt the more "Kenyan approach"? I don't know. I know that it's not much fun to have this battle waging...it's not fun when you don't know if you can trust yourself... I wish things were clearer right now. I wish that they made more sense. I wish I had more confidence in myself, despite living in Africa, to stand for what I want and what I think I deserve culture be damned. Ugh.
I'm in this strange place right now where my gut is telling me that things aren't working out in my private life for loads of reasons... The major contributing factor to all of this is that we just like to live very different social lives. No one is good or bad. In fact, he's a very good soul and man. We just don't understand each other when it comes to spending time together. I'd like to go to a movie...dinner...a walk...a hike...a drive...a picnic...a trip to town to just check it out on Sunday...happy hour drinks...dancing once in a while...hell just running errands together.
Dating in Kenya is an extraordinary effort that I've yet to really even start to understand. My "American" instincts are constantly pushing back at situations that don't seem to make a whole lot of sense and advice from Kenyan friends to not react "too harshly" or "too American" pushes in the other direction. Life in the middle...again. It's a difficult thing to navigate--when do you listen to your instincts despite their heavy Americaness and when do you adopt the more "Kenyan approach"? I don't know. I know that it's not much fun to have this battle waging...it's not fun when you don't know if you can trust yourself... I wish things were clearer right now. I wish that they made more sense. I wish I had more confidence in myself, despite living in Africa, to stand for what I want and what I think I deserve culture be damned. Ugh.
Drinking
So...I'm at a crossroads this morning. I find myself thinking seriously about how the person in my life right now goes out every weekend to drink with friends. And DRINK. I'm not much of a drinker myself. Yes, I've been known to get downright drunk about twice a year, but that's about it. If invited to the right dinner party, I can definitely enjoy enough glasses of good wine to get buzzed and happy - but not blind drunk. It takes about 2-3 glasses of wine and I'm all good for the evening.
Kenyans love to drink. And a lot of the expats who live here love to drink. And because I don't, I'm a bit nowhere socially. I don't enjoy most bars or clubs. I can't stand the big clubs here because the music is too damned loud to talk and the prostitutes fill the space. So where do you go when you're NOT a big drinker? Quite frankly, it's just boring to have me around I think. Everyone else is enjoying themselves and I'm essentially sober and bored. BORED. So what to do? And even more challenging how do you find someone to date and enjoy life with when the majority think that drinks all night every Friday and Saturday are the high point of the week?
I'm also not real big on sleeping late. I CAN. But only on rare occasions. It's not in my system to sleep until 12PM or 1PM or even 2PM every weekend. I'm awake by 9AM most of the time and it seems like just a waste of daylight and LIFE to lay in bed all day nursing a hang over or just flopping around when you could be walking, hiking, seeing a movie, etc. I never thought of myself as an "energy" person. I have high energy friends and I don't even compare. But I guess I'm in the lower third of that category. I never realized it until I moved here. My Mom and Dad are energy people. My Mom is up and buzzing every weekend...working in her garden...working on the house...MOVING. My big brother is an energy person, too. He's up early and busy with chores long before the rest of the house and neighborhood have come alive.
So what to do? I don't know. I don't know how to find balance with the majority who love bars and I've no idea how to find anyone in the minority that would rather have a grand meal and then head home to watch a movie. Once again, I'm in the middle in Kenya and, as always, it's a fairly frustrating and lonely place to be.
Kenyans love to drink. And a lot of the expats who live here love to drink. And because I don't, I'm a bit nowhere socially. I don't enjoy most bars or clubs. I can't stand the big clubs here because the music is too damned loud to talk and the prostitutes fill the space. So where do you go when you're NOT a big drinker? Quite frankly, it's just boring to have me around I think. Everyone else is enjoying themselves and I'm essentially sober and bored. BORED. So what to do? And even more challenging how do you find someone to date and enjoy life with when the majority think that drinks all night every Friday and Saturday are the high point of the week?
I'm also not real big on sleeping late. I CAN. But only on rare occasions. It's not in my system to sleep until 12PM or 1PM or even 2PM every weekend. I'm awake by 9AM most of the time and it seems like just a waste of daylight and LIFE to lay in bed all day nursing a hang over or just flopping around when you could be walking, hiking, seeing a movie, etc. I never thought of myself as an "energy" person. I have high energy friends and I don't even compare. But I guess I'm in the lower third of that category. I never realized it until I moved here. My Mom and Dad are energy people. My Mom is up and buzzing every weekend...working in her garden...working on the house...MOVING. My big brother is an energy person, too. He's up early and busy with chores long before the rest of the house and neighborhood have come alive.
So what to do? I don't know. I don't know how to find balance with the majority who love bars and I've no idea how to find anyone in the minority that would rather have a grand meal and then head home to watch a movie. Once again, I'm in the middle in Kenya and, as always, it's a fairly frustrating and lonely place to be.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Film Industry
The few that I do confide in are very close friends who shall remain nameless for now...the internet is just too small. My closest friend here is also my business partner and an amazingly creative, talented woman. She's Kenyan which has also meant that I learn from her perspective and gain a stronger insight into Kenyan culture that leaves me dazed and confused at times. She was the first person to give me work in Kenya and we plan to make films together forever… She’s also done her best to convert me to veganism which has thus far failed but I have to love her for trying. As for me, I try to slip a hot dog into her veggie stew once in a while but that hasn’t worked so far.
Most of my close friends are part of the filmmaking industry. I haven’t talked about work much because there hasn’t been much to talk about…just enough to almost survive and to have paid rent thus far. I’ve produced various documentaries, adverts, etc. and thins are moving along. I’m hoping that a few of the projects that I’ve been chasing come through as they would mean loads of travel throughout East and West Africa which would absolutely amazing – and the work is dynamic as well. It’s all exciting; and it all means that when I’m not actually shooting, I’m networking every day to find the next great project. It’s exhausting and scary at times – when rent is due and money is tight – but I wouldn’t give up this experience of producing in Africa for anything right now. I am a producer. I love producing. It’s all I want to do and I’m very fortunate to have a chance to do what I love in Africa.
As an update, I am now the Director of Awali Entertainment Ltd. (www.awalientertainment.com). We're doing our best to generate new work (original works) and to also service some jobs with local clients. We're navigating the Kenyan tax system and other challenges (licensing, etc.) but we're getting through it all. Earlier this year we attended the Cannes Film Festival in France and that was a great trip for the company (more on that later)...
We could be busier...but we're not stuck...which is saying a lot right now.
Most of my close friends are part of the filmmaking industry. I haven’t talked about work much because there hasn’t been much to talk about…just enough to almost survive and to have paid rent thus far. I’ve produced various documentaries, adverts, etc. and thins are moving along. I’m hoping that a few of the projects that I’ve been chasing come through as they would mean loads of travel throughout East and West Africa which would absolutely amazing – and the work is dynamic as well. It’s all exciting; and it all means that when I’m not actually shooting, I’m networking every day to find the next great project. It’s exhausting and scary at times – when rent is due and money is tight – but I wouldn’t give up this experience of producing in Africa for anything right now. I am a producer. I love producing. It’s all I want to do and I’m very fortunate to have a chance to do what I love in Africa.
As an update, I am now the Director of Awali Entertainment Ltd. (www.awalientertainment.com). We're doing our best to generate new work (original works) and to also service some jobs with local clients. We're navigating the Kenyan tax system and other challenges (licensing, etc.) but we're getting through it all. Earlier this year we attended the Cannes Film Festival in France and that was a great trip for the company (more on that later)...
We could be busier...but we're not stuck...which is saying a lot right now.
Politics
I sometimes think that the Kenyan government has all but stopped caring for Kenyans. Politicians are far too focused on winning the elections in 2012 to pay attention to the destitute in their neighborhoods. The newspapers are filled every day with yet another story of politicians and civil servants stealing millions of shillings from the coffers to fuel their own greed. There’s always an investigation that goes nowhere and the cycle repeats itself day after day after day. Corruption is so accepted by all Kenyans that it still shocks them when they don’t have to pay a bribe to accomplish some small task. Paying bribes is a way of life that few Kenyans can ever see ending. The 2008 post election violence that devastated the Kenyan economy and community has resulted in a formal investigation by the International Criminal Court (ICC) in The Hague. Politicians and wealthy private citizens who largely financed and fueled the violence are now going to be put on trial. Kenya had two choices – establish its own court system to deal with the trials or let the ICC do it for them. Most Kenyans do not trust the legal system as a bribe can buy you out of any legal jam and so the ICC is now coming in to set things right. And Kenyans will wait. The ICC is a slow-moving machine that takes years for its investigations to conclude before trials can begin. Kenyans don’t mind. They all tell me that they will wait—they are patient. This could well be the first time in Kenyan history where a senior government official is tried and convicted. No one really knows what’s going to happen but the USA and European governments who control a lot of the money coming into Kenya (and so forcefully dictate policy) have made it clear that arrests, trials and convictions are necessary if Kenya wants to continue to receive it’s AID.
And all of this makes for great gossip. “Who’s on the bad guy list to the ICC?” What will happen to the president? Prime Minster? Will so and so flee the country and seek asylum elsewhere? The gossip about all of this is fueling the newspapers and is palpable in the city. Everyone has an opinion about what will happen—including expats. The gossip machine is quite powerful in Nairobi and it reminds me every time I hear a story that I’m really living in a small town. It doesn’t take much to know someone who knows someone in Nairobi and so there are very few secrets that can really be kept. Arrests, affairs, finances, and health are all openly discussed whether you want them to be nor not. It can get very claustrophobic at times living in Nairobi because it feels a lot like living in Lake Arrowhead – where you see the same people no matter where you go. I’ve stopped sharing as much as I used to with most friends. I confide with very few. I’m trying to take some privacy back and leave a little room for mystery which isn’t so easy to do…
And all of this makes for great gossip. “Who’s on the bad guy list to the ICC?” What will happen to the president? Prime Minster? Will so and so flee the country and seek asylum elsewhere? The gossip about all of this is fueling the newspapers and is palpable in the city. Everyone has an opinion about what will happen—including expats. The gossip machine is quite powerful in Nairobi and it reminds me every time I hear a story that I’m really living in a small town. It doesn’t take much to know someone who knows someone in Nairobi and so there are very few secrets that can really be kept. Arrests, affairs, finances, and health are all openly discussed whether you want them to be nor not. It can get very claustrophobic at times living in Nairobi because it feels a lot like living in Lake Arrowhead – where you see the same people no matter where you go. I’ve stopped sharing as much as I used to with most friends. I confide with very few. I’m trying to take some privacy back and leave a little room for mystery which isn’t so easy to do…
Celebrity Mzungu
Which moves on to the next experience – that of celebrity. Being white in Africa makes me a celebrity. By celebrity I mean a person who is considered an authority on everything, is seen as rich, and who is seen as a way to escape African life. It takes a tremendous amount of sensitivity not to abuse this celebrity because you realize that you can get away with just about anything given the color of your skin. For example, about a year ago a woman I know was volunteering with the Maasai out on the Maasai Mara. She was working with a local health clinic to educate men and women about HIV/AIDS and family planning. Now because she’s a white woman from America, everyone who comes into the clinic – and everyone in the community for that matter – assumes this woman has medical training and is an expert. They would never question her abilities or ask to see her credentials no matter what happened. She is treated with enormous respect. And that really doesn’t work. She’s a bartender from the East Coast of America. She’s a bartender who hasn’t paid attention to this culture for the past six months and is crossing the line. While she was working in the clinic last year, she was asked if she wanted to administer vaccine jabs (shots) to children by clinic staff who saw no problem in allowing an entirely untrained person deliver medical care. And so…because she’s naïve and quite honestly ridiculous, she agreed to help give jabs to kids. No one would ever question her ability to handle the vaccinations – or her ability to handle a child’s life-threatening reaction to the jab. She told me this story just a few days after it happened and I was horrified. I asked her if she would ever do such a thing in America? “No…of course not.” So I then asked her, “So it’s okay to do it here with a bunch of semi-literate Africans…just not at home?” To which she had no reply. This celebrity thing is scary. If I walk into any government office, I am immediately told to not wait in line and to come ahead of everyone else. When I refuse, I am seen as strange. That I would rather wait my turn than receive special treatment is very peculiar. Kenya has a massive colonialism hangover that still has people curtsying to me when I do something kind or when say I pay the housekeeper her monthly salary.
My friend, the one pretending to be a nurse, woke up from her “I didn’t realize” stupor and she’s no longer practicing medicine out on the Maasai Mara. I can appreciate that she just wanted to do some good work…we all do. Which is another challenge in Kenya. How much of yourself do you give to a group or to a person without becoming all-consumed with their needs? Most of you know that I help support and volunteer with a small group in the Kawangware Slum. Last year I was spending a lot of time and energy with the group and I quickly came to realize that I was being seen as their sole source of money, support, and other resources. And that’s dangerous. Expats come and go. We don’t usually stay forever. And when you let anyone or any group become dependent upon you for their survival, it’s dangerous ground. So I decided to pull back a bit from the group. And thats been difficult. Everyone I know in the expat community tries to do a little something to improve the lives of a Kenyan or Kenyans around them. We pay for school fees, medical treatment, food, or some other necessity because we can… But it’s finding the balance in all of that which is very challenging but when you live amongst the poorest people in the world, you realize that you cannot possibly solve every problem or address every issue or you will be exhausted. You have to find a balance between helping those around you and taking care of yourself without feeling guilty. “Do I really need to eat out tonight? So many are hungry…” – that’s the kind of thinking that can creep up on you and that requires your attention when it does because it’s easy to get wrapped in guilt living in Africa. We have so much and most have so little. Balance…is quite tough. I still do what I can to try and make a difference but I realize that the struggle for a family and for their kids far surpasses my abilities and so I have to accept that they are struggling and will probably struggle for the foreseeable future.
My friend, the one pretending to be a nurse, woke up from her “I didn’t realize” stupor and she’s no longer practicing medicine out on the Maasai Mara. I can appreciate that she just wanted to do some good work…we all do. Which is another challenge in Kenya. How much of yourself do you give to a group or to a person without becoming all-consumed with their needs? Most of you know that I help support and volunteer with a small group in the Kawangware Slum. Last year I was spending a lot of time and energy with the group and I quickly came to realize that I was being seen as their sole source of money, support, and other resources. And that’s dangerous. Expats come and go. We don’t usually stay forever. And when you let anyone or any group become dependent upon you for their survival, it’s dangerous ground. So I decided to pull back a bit from the group. And thats been difficult. Everyone I know in the expat community tries to do a little something to improve the lives of a Kenyan or Kenyans around them. We pay for school fees, medical treatment, food, or some other necessity because we can… But it’s finding the balance in all of that which is very challenging but when you live amongst the poorest people in the world, you realize that you cannot possibly solve every problem or address every issue or you will be exhausted. You have to find a balance between helping those around you and taking care of yourself without feeling guilty. “Do I really need to eat out tonight? So many are hungry…” – that’s the kind of thinking that can creep up on you and that requires your attention when it does because it’s easy to get wrapped in guilt living in Africa. We have so much and most have so little. Balance…is quite tough. I still do what I can to try and make a difference but I realize that the struggle for a family and for their kids far surpasses my abilities and so I have to accept that they are struggling and will probably struggle for the foreseeable future.
Expats
So back to Kenya…
Expat life is always a little different. I’ve yet to fully navigate all of it’s challenges and rewards. There are tiers to being an expat – you’ve got the diplomats who drive around in their four-wheel drives and who have special red license plates that let everyone known – including the criminals – that they’re diplomats. There are the next group that came over to work for an NGO or private company who also drive big 4WD’s but who don’t have the nifty plates. Both of these groups are entirely overpaid (largely with your tax dollars) and live in large homes that they lease for years at a time and where house staff (cooks, maids, nannies, gardeners, and drivers) attend to their every need. Their children all attend private schools that cost thousands of dollars every year. They can afford trips throughout Kenya and abroad on a regular basis and are rarely ever really affected by the struggles going on around them in Kenya. And then there’s that third class of expat – the one that I belong to – that come to Kenya on their own dime and try to make it work. We’re not poor – but we’re not rich. We stress about rent from month to month but not so much that we can’t afford to go out to a proper bar once a week. We drive cars or take public transportation and may well take the odd trip when we can swing a deal.
We don’t usually mix very much – these different expat groups. We have different budgets and different priorities. But we do have some similar stomping grounds that turn into a circuit of sorts for everyone. There’s Monday movies – where the price of a ticket gets you a hot dog, drink, popcorn and candy bar. There’s Tuesday nights at Anami sushi where a DJ named Zalalem spins (DJ in a sushi restaurant is just weird to me so I’ve not gone)… There’s Wednesday night at the Mercury Lounge – a proper bar with a very Manhattan feel. There’s Thursday nights at Havana or Bacchus or Tribe (depending on your budget and your crowd) and then there’s Friday nights at Black Diamond, Gypsies, Soho’s, Casablanca or another of Nairobi’s famous clubs. It gets to the point where you begin to see the exact same crowd drinking the same drinks and doing the same thing week after week. I’ve started staying home more lately partly because of my budget and partly because it all just go a bit boring. I also get tired of watching Western men fondle very young prostitutes in these “nice” clubs. Contractors are sent over here for weeks or months at a time and they typically leave their wives and children in Europe or America. Upon arrival, they forget their commitments and discover “the exotic” as one man told me. It’s all just a bit sad to watch these girls (who have learned that Western men like thin, tall, and scantily dressed) sell themselves to somewhat older, disgusting men in the hope that they’ll find a guy who actually wants to keep them around as a girlfriend and maybe, if she’s really lucky, as a wife. It’s important to find a blend of expats that you can spend time with so finding the right group is critical. It’s good for the soul and brain when you can go to a bar or restaurant or other outing and everyone in the group understands your jokes and accent. Its been very important for me to get to know a few Americans I can sit down with and “be American”. The brain needs this I am convinced.
Expat life is always a little different. I’ve yet to fully navigate all of it’s challenges and rewards. There are tiers to being an expat – you’ve got the diplomats who drive around in their four-wheel drives and who have special red license plates that let everyone known – including the criminals – that they’re diplomats. There are the next group that came over to work for an NGO or private company who also drive big 4WD’s but who don’t have the nifty plates. Both of these groups are entirely overpaid (largely with your tax dollars) and live in large homes that they lease for years at a time and where house staff (cooks, maids, nannies, gardeners, and drivers) attend to their every need. Their children all attend private schools that cost thousands of dollars every year. They can afford trips throughout Kenya and abroad on a regular basis and are rarely ever really affected by the struggles going on around them in Kenya. And then there’s that third class of expat – the one that I belong to – that come to Kenya on their own dime and try to make it work. We’re not poor – but we’re not rich. We stress about rent from month to month but not so much that we can’t afford to go out to a proper bar once a week. We drive cars or take public transportation and may well take the odd trip when we can swing a deal.
We don’t usually mix very much – these different expat groups. We have different budgets and different priorities. But we do have some similar stomping grounds that turn into a circuit of sorts for everyone. There’s Monday movies – where the price of a ticket gets you a hot dog, drink, popcorn and candy bar. There’s Tuesday nights at Anami sushi where a DJ named Zalalem spins (DJ in a sushi restaurant is just weird to me so I’ve not gone)… There’s Wednesday night at the Mercury Lounge – a proper bar with a very Manhattan feel. There’s Thursday nights at Havana or Bacchus or Tribe (depending on your budget and your crowd) and then there’s Friday nights at Black Diamond, Gypsies, Soho’s, Casablanca or another of Nairobi’s famous clubs. It gets to the point where you begin to see the exact same crowd drinking the same drinks and doing the same thing week after week. I’ve started staying home more lately partly because of my budget and partly because it all just go a bit boring. I also get tired of watching Western men fondle very young prostitutes in these “nice” clubs. Contractors are sent over here for weeks or months at a time and they typically leave their wives and children in Europe or America. Upon arrival, they forget their commitments and discover “the exotic” as one man told me. It’s all just a bit sad to watch these girls (who have learned that Western men like thin, tall, and scantily dressed) sell themselves to somewhat older, disgusting men in the hope that they’ll find a guy who actually wants to keep them around as a girlfriend and maybe, if she’s really lucky, as a wife. It’s important to find a blend of expats that you can spend time with so finding the right group is critical. It’s good for the soul and brain when you can go to a bar or restaurant or other outing and everyone in the group understands your jokes and accent. Its been very important for me to get to know a few Americans I can sit down with and “be American”. The brain needs this I am convinced.
UAE
It’s Friday 23 October 2009 – that’s how we do it around here. If I were to write that date it would be 23/10/09…not 10/23/09. I have to say that it’s a far better system than the American version – never any confusion at all. Anyway…on that date I was sitting on an Air Arabia flight returning to Kenya from Dubai. I hadn’t been to Dubai in about 8 years so I was excited to go and see all of the new development I’ve read about over the years.
Dubai is part of the UAE – which is essentially small kingdoms that got together and formed a union for all sorts of good reasons. It sits on the Gulf of Arabia so there are loads of beaches. Abu Dhabi is the “capital” but really Dubai is where you want to be… I landed in Sharjah which is yet another little emirate just down the road…well…sexy freeway is more like it. Since I’ve been in Dubai last, the entire area has gone nuts with road and building construction so much so that the entire landscape is one big construction site. The tiny roads that used to be clogged full of cars have all but been replaced by very sexy, smooth paved freeways and a very new metro system still to be fully realized. Dubai is the place where hotels have been built on top of man-made islands. And because Dubai is so new – we’re talking about 50 years since it was realized – there’s no old construction…no old souq like you get in Cairo. It’s relatively brand new construction everywhere so there’s not much charm as you go around the city. The heat never really subsides. It was 35C (double that and add 30 and you’re at the F reading) in late October and the dust was of course always present. To survive in Dubai (and really to live) you must enjoy shopping in malls – massive malls with indoor downhill skiing areas, water parks, and hundreds of shops. I walked through the Emirates Mall yesterday and I was amazed at how modern, clean, organized, and well maybe even civilized the entire experience was…my brain relaxed for the first time in a long time. (Explain: When you live in Africa – or anywhere else that isn’t home – and you are constantly dealing with images that are not what your brain is expecting – driving on the wrong side, different languages, etc. – I think your brain just gets tired. Expat brain fatigue I’m calling it. And so after about six months, this EBF starts to really set in and it’s time to head back to what is familiar…in this case…Dubai. Because despite the language difference and a few other things it feels NORMAL. Driving on the right, Western clothes, Western food (junk food), and Western shopping malls all let your brain detox a bit… It’s a very necessary thing for me and most of the other expats I know…)
Now as great as Dubai is…it’s even greater if you have a lot of money. I found a few things that I’m taking back with me that cannot be found in Nairobi but for the most part Dubai reminds me of New York City or London – money makes a huge difference. So for the 400 or so odd stores that were in the mall (I’m guessing) I would say that about 10 of them were worth wandering into and the rest were decidedly out of my budget. I walked into a home store (IKEA was too far to go) and I saw so many things that I would love to have in my Nairobi flat – simple things really – like cheap carpets that were decent quality, linens that didn’t feel like plastic, organizing items, etc. I can’t quite figure out why Kenya can’t import the goods and the stores – Lord knows we have a large enough expat and middle class to support it…
I left the hotel in the morning with plenty of time to catch my flight…or so I thought. After thirty minutes of driving, I figured out that my taxi was lost. He kept calling an uncle for directions but couldn’t figure it out. So when I told him that we needed to go back to the city so I could take another cab, he got a bit upset. Not angry…upset. So upset in fact that he almost crashed the car into a roadside wall. I finally got him to pull over at another hotel and then got into another taxi – this was one hour from departure. We sped to the small Sharjah Airport and I begged to get on the now closed flight. Thankfully Sharjah is a small, commuter airport and they got me on my flight without much hassle. Had I gone out from Dubai International – I would still be in Dubai…
I don’t think Dubai is my kind of town…it’s fine for a night or two if you want to shop and bit and take a break but there’s not much culture – nothing like Egypt or maybe even Jordan. It’s almost too antiseptic for me in some ways although I admit that I did enjoy the very clean, tidy city loaded with McDonald's, Haagez Dazs and Kentucky Fried Chicken (and YES - I ate all of that...)and some Krispy Kreme donuts.
Dubai is part of the UAE – which is essentially small kingdoms that got together and formed a union for all sorts of good reasons. It sits on the Gulf of Arabia so there are loads of beaches. Abu Dhabi is the “capital” but really Dubai is where you want to be… I landed in Sharjah which is yet another little emirate just down the road…well…sexy freeway is more like it. Since I’ve been in Dubai last, the entire area has gone nuts with road and building construction so much so that the entire landscape is one big construction site. The tiny roads that used to be clogged full of cars have all but been replaced by very sexy, smooth paved freeways and a very new metro system still to be fully realized. Dubai is the place where hotels have been built on top of man-made islands. And because Dubai is so new – we’re talking about 50 years since it was realized – there’s no old construction…no old souq like you get in Cairo. It’s relatively brand new construction everywhere so there’s not much charm as you go around the city. The heat never really subsides. It was 35C (double that and add 30 and you’re at the F reading) in late October and the dust was of course always present. To survive in Dubai (and really to live) you must enjoy shopping in malls – massive malls with indoor downhill skiing areas, water parks, and hundreds of shops. I walked through the Emirates Mall yesterday and I was amazed at how modern, clean, organized, and well maybe even civilized the entire experience was…my brain relaxed for the first time in a long time. (Explain: When you live in Africa – or anywhere else that isn’t home – and you are constantly dealing with images that are not what your brain is expecting – driving on the wrong side, different languages, etc. – I think your brain just gets tired. Expat brain fatigue I’m calling it. And so after about six months, this EBF starts to really set in and it’s time to head back to what is familiar…in this case…Dubai. Because despite the language difference and a few other things it feels NORMAL. Driving on the right, Western clothes, Western food (junk food), and Western shopping malls all let your brain detox a bit… It’s a very necessary thing for me and most of the other expats I know…)
Now as great as Dubai is…it’s even greater if you have a lot of money. I found a few things that I’m taking back with me that cannot be found in Nairobi but for the most part Dubai reminds me of New York City or London – money makes a huge difference. So for the 400 or so odd stores that were in the mall (I’m guessing) I would say that about 10 of them were worth wandering into and the rest were decidedly out of my budget. I walked into a home store (IKEA was too far to go) and I saw so many things that I would love to have in my Nairobi flat – simple things really – like cheap carpets that were decent quality, linens that didn’t feel like plastic, organizing items, etc. I can’t quite figure out why Kenya can’t import the goods and the stores – Lord knows we have a large enough expat and middle class to support it…
I left the hotel in the morning with plenty of time to catch my flight…or so I thought. After thirty minutes of driving, I figured out that my taxi was lost. He kept calling an uncle for directions but couldn’t figure it out. So when I told him that we needed to go back to the city so I could take another cab, he got a bit upset. Not angry…upset. So upset in fact that he almost crashed the car into a roadside wall. I finally got him to pull over at another hotel and then got into another taxi – this was one hour from departure. We sped to the small Sharjah Airport and I begged to get on the now closed flight. Thankfully Sharjah is a small, commuter airport and they got me on my flight without much hassle. Had I gone out from Dubai International – I would still be in Dubai…
I don’t think Dubai is my kind of town…it’s fine for a night or two if you want to shop and bit and take a break but there’s not much culture – nothing like Egypt or maybe even Jordan. It’s almost too antiseptic for me in some ways although I admit that I did enjoy the very clean, tidy city loaded with McDonald's, Haagez Dazs and Kentucky Fried Chicken (and YES - I ate all of that...)and some Krispy Kreme donuts.
Valley Arcade
My apartment (the third I’ve had since arriving) is an unfurnished, 3 bedroom plus staff quarters (picture a very small room with separate bathroom) situated on the top floor (of course) of a brand new complex in the Valley Arcade neighborhood (which is about 15 minutes from downtown if there’s NO traffic and NO police check points). I like the area a lot. There is a shopping center within 10 minutes walk that houses cafes, a small family grocery store and a fresh fruit and vegetable store. Dry cleaning, pharmacy, and other stores are also open. Valley Arcade is green – loads of trees despite the construction boom that’s happening all over town and is quiet at night – lots of families living in the area so it feels very “small town”. People on the street are very friendly (as they are in most of Kenya) and you easily get to know the local vendors who have some kiosks on the road selling fruit, veg, sodas and other small items. People get to recognize you and are eager to say hello and to watch out for each other. The apartment itself looks like any apartment anywhere in America honestly. Wood floors, high ceilings, granite countertops in the kitchen, four bathrooms (if you count the SQ) and a large balcony looking out over the car park and a smaller balcony near the kitchen looking out over trees and some diplomat’s back yard where dogs like to bark at the monkeys. My apartment (where I have 2 roommates – Nairobi is NOT cheap!) is very comfortable and is furnished with a house full of furniture I bought super cheap from expats that were moving to Khartoum, Sudan. It’s not the sexiest, nicest stuff – but it works and it’s there… Some bits are borrowed (again from good friends down the road) like the stove, TV, and a futon. I have the master bedroom, which is enormous – probably 20x20 with 10 foot ceilings and a very large master bathroom with a “roman” tub and separate shower…not too shabby. My room is big enough that I can easily disappear into it and watch a movie and not feel like I’m “confined”.
And with beauty and comfort comes pain – anyone who has ever had a bikini wax can confirm this… So…not every outlet works…and not every closet door stays on all of the time. This is a brand new building and I’m convinced that the contractor and workers were largely blind and/or dyslexic when they built the place. Window handles break off, don’t work, or just fall three stories to the ground. It’s all good. Repairs are always a challenge as the landlady is a nutty Maasai who is constantly up country and her contractor is a nice guy who wants to flirt and not get much done… The first few months were hell as many things had to be repaired which meant I spent a lot of time waiting, and waiting, and watching repairs. (A year later and things have settled...although the landlady is still "up-country" and thus unreachable and I've managed to fire her contractor and find my own for repairs...)
Water is the major challenge along with electricity. Water and power rationing were in effect for months during the dry season and so every Monday, Wednesday and Friday we were without power from 8AM-6PM. The schedule was very precise (well pretty precise) and you learned to just handle it. The water schedule however, (when water is actually released through the city pipes to your neighborhood) is much less precise and so there have been times when I’ve had to contact a local water delivery truck to fill my upper and lower tanks… The trick you see is to get water delivered on a day with electricity so that the water dumped into the lower tank can be pumped into the upper tank until its full so that the lower tank can be filled again. With me? Yes – it’s as much fun as it sounds. We’re all pretty spastic about conserving water in the house so that’s good. Every day I have to ask the maintenance guys if we have water… If we do, they smile and say “YES Miss Rebecca we have water!” If there’s no water they apologize as if they were the guys turning it on and off. On days when we have water, laundry can be done… On days when water isn’t coming in, the washing machine becomes forbidden until either water is released by the city or we decide to break down and buy it. Water days make me want to develop a crack habit. Not having electricity three days a week has been torture for my little fridge. It has so far survived but I’m not sure another season will pass by before its fried. Being turned off and on is killing it. I can purchase an inverter which stores power and would keep the fridge running when power is off but those cost about $300.00US and that’s just more than I can afford. So for now we caress the fridge and talk softly to it hoping it keeps going. Electricity issues also mean that I’ve taken to showering at night. At night, the power is on and the water is flowing. I don’t trust mornings. Things in Kenya are far too unpredictable to count on the electricity running to 8AM when they shut it off. More than one roommate has been caught with a soapy head at 7:45AM…so I’ve decided to trust what is working at the moment and avoid a theoretical approach to life for most things. If the stores have my cheddar cheese, I buy two. If they have my Skippy peanut butter (which they haven’t for months) I buy three.
Grocery shopping, by the way, takes on a whole new dynamic because really you have to visit four or five stores to get the goods you want. The big chain supermarket Nakumatt cannot manage to supply the exact same goods at every location so that’s a nice challenge all by itself (picture a Wal-Mart without the spiffy Wal-martness). Chandarana Yaya doesn’t have the French mustard that Chandarana ABC has…and it goes on and on. I dread grocery shopping. I really dread shopping on any level in Kenya because it means traffic, matatus, police, a really warm store with no A/C, a crowd, and probably 2-3 trips before you find all of the bits you want. Africa is not about convenience – EVER. You have to love the challenge or you’ll go insane…or home. I shop on a limited basis (those who know me know that cooking is NOT a pleasure) and go without until I suck up the energy for the big battle… But shopping isn’t all bad…it’s also entertaining. About a year ago, I needed some small wire mesh to protect my new kitten from falling off the balcony… I went into the closest Nakumatt and found monkey wire…no not chicken wire (which they have) but Monkey wire. It’s very nice. Of course I didn’t buy enough and went back to another Nakumatt for some more – no joy. I then visited yet another Nakumatt while out in Karen – no joy. I finally sucked it up and went back to Nakumatt Prestige (they all have names) and bought more. Monkey wire…for the monkeys in the trees of course and for a 1 pound kitten named Toffee.
As an update...new boyfriend means I cook...a lot...and shopping has taken on a whole new level of insanity at times. More on that later...
Oh! And Toffee is now 1 and we have Bandit kitty as well - he's about 8 months old now. They're best friends...more on that as well a bit later.
And with beauty and comfort comes pain – anyone who has ever had a bikini wax can confirm this… So…not every outlet works…and not every closet door stays on all of the time. This is a brand new building and I’m convinced that the contractor and workers were largely blind and/or dyslexic when they built the place. Window handles break off, don’t work, or just fall three stories to the ground. It’s all good. Repairs are always a challenge as the landlady is a nutty Maasai who is constantly up country and her contractor is a nice guy who wants to flirt and not get much done… The first few months were hell as many things had to be repaired which meant I spent a lot of time waiting, and waiting, and watching repairs. (A year later and things have settled...although the landlady is still "up-country" and thus unreachable and I've managed to fire her contractor and find my own for repairs...)
Water is the major challenge along with electricity. Water and power rationing were in effect for months during the dry season and so every Monday, Wednesday and Friday we were without power from 8AM-6PM. The schedule was very precise (well pretty precise) and you learned to just handle it. The water schedule however, (when water is actually released through the city pipes to your neighborhood) is much less precise and so there have been times when I’ve had to contact a local water delivery truck to fill my upper and lower tanks… The trick you see is to get water delivered on a day with electricity so that the water dumped into the lower tank can be pumped into the upper tank until its full so that the lower tank can be filled again. With me? Yes – it’s as much fun as it sounds. We’re all pretty spastic about conserving water in the house so that’s good. Every day I have to ask the maintenance guys if we have water… If we do, they smile and say “YES Miss Rebecca we have water!” If there’s no water they apologize as if they were the guys turning it on and off. On days when we have water, laundry can be done… On days when water isn’t coming in, the washing machine becomes forbidden until either water is released by the city or we decide to break down and buy it. Water days make me want to develop a crack habit. Not having electricity three days a week has been torture for my little fridge. It has so far survived but I’m not sure another season will pass by before its fried. Being turned off and on is killing it. I can purchase an inverter which stores power and would keep the fridge running when power is off but those cost about $300.00US and that’s just more than I can afford. So for now we caress the fridge and talk softly to it hoping it keeps going. Electricity issues also mean that I’ve taken to showering at night. At night, the power is on and the water is flowing. I don’t trust mornings. Things in Kenya are far too unpredictable to count on the electricity running to 8AM when they shut it off. More than one roommate has been caught with a soapy head at 7:45AM…so I’ve decided to trust what is working at the moment and avoid a theoretical approach to life for most things. If the stores have my cheddar cheese, I buy two. If they have my Skippy peanut butter (which they haven’t for months) I buy three.
Grocery shopping, by the way, takes on a whole new dynamic because really you have to visit four or five stores to get the goods you want. The big chain supermarket Nakumatt cannot manage to supply the exact same goods at every location so that’s a nice challenge all by itself (picture a Wal-Mart without the spiffy Wal-martness). Chandarana Yaya doesn’t have the French mustard that Chandarana ABC has…and it goes on and on. I dread grocery shopping. I really dread shopping on any level in Kenya because it means traffic, matatus, police, a really warm store with no A/C, a crowd, and probably 2-3 trips before you find all of the bits you want. Africa is not about convenience – EVER. You have to love the challenge or you’ll go insane…or home. I shop on a limited basis (those who know me know that cooking is NOT a pleasure) and go without until I suck up the energy for the big battle… But shopping isn’t all bad…it’s also entertaining. About a year ago, I needed some small wire mesh to protect my new kitten from falling off the balcony… I went into the closest Nakumatt and found monkey wire…no not chicken wire (which they have) but Monkey wire. It’s very nice. Of course I didn’t buy enough and went back to another Nakumatt for some more – no joy. I then visited yet another Nakumatt while out in Karen – no joy. I finally sucked it up and went back to Nakumatt Prestige (they all have names) and bought more. Monkey wire…for the monkeys in the trees of course and for a 1 pound kitten named Toffee.
As an update...new boyfriend means I cook...a lot...and shopping has taken on a whole new level of insanity at times. More on that later...
Oh! And Toffee is now 1 and we have Bandit kitty as well - he's about 8 months old now. They're best friends...more on that as well a bit later.
Security
Police in Kenya have one objective overall – make as much money gathering as many bribes from as many drivers and pedestrians as possible. I know this to be true because I drive in Kenya and I’ve been stopped by more than one policeman for “inspection”. The scenario usually goes something like this…
I’m driving my 1975 Land Rover down a bumpy Nairobi road
Police standing on the side of the road wave their hand and flag me down
I pull over and turn off the engine
The policeman comes over and asks for my license
I hold the license up to the window (this is critical – it is against Kenyan law for a policeman to actually “have” your license – something I remind them of every single time I’m stopped and they want to “hold” it)
They review it and then I ask them “what else do you want? You’re wasting my time”
To which they say, “I’m not wasting time I’m keeping Kenya safe”
To which I say, “Keep Kenya safe and stop criminals…I’m not a criminal.”
And then…before waiting for yet another tedious comment, I start the car and drive off. (This learned while riding in countless taxis and private cars)
Now for those who are shocked at the brazen exchange note that it is the same for everyone who’s pulled over and who has done absolutely nothing in violation of the law. Kenyans are less brazen than expats for all sorts of obvious reasons but I quickly discovered that if you engage in their bullshit on any level, you’re in for a hassle or money or both. But if you call them on their bullshit and quote Kenyan law (which they don’t know and can’t quote), then you’re sorted. I loathe checkpoints and they’re all over the city – particularly at night. There’s nothing wrong with my vehicle or my driving but being pulled over makes me nervous regardless. In America, if you’re pulled over, you’re busted. You’re caught doing something wrong 99% of the time. In Kenya, you’re pulled over for lunch money. In a country where the police are essentially unsupervised and “uncontrolled” (so much so that the UN issued a report and called for the dismantling and rebuilding of the entire force), the police make my skin crawl.
If the police were committed to doing their job…it would benefit Kenya’s growing traffic problem. Nairobi and outlying suburbs are the result of English colonialism way back when…and if you’ve ever been to London you know the English system of road building isn’t so great. The roads in Nairobi are narrow, poorly paved, full of traffic circles that don’t circulate, and dangerous. Matatus (essentially a minibus that is public transportation) litter the entire country and are controlled by corrupt politicians and police who all answer to the “tribal mafia”. So there are no rules for matatus and that means chaos. Matatus drive on sidewalks, on the wrong side of the road, and just about anywhere else to get ahead because time is literally money. They are never maintained properly, driven by guys who drink illegal brew called “changaa” and chew khat (a weed you chew to get high) all day long while they ferry people around. Their “tout” or the guy that rides in the back to take the money is just as high and often very rude pushing people in and pulling people out. Matatus are a necessary evil in a country with no rail system (a subway like the one in Cairo would transform Kenya) but they are also responsible for more traffic accidents and deaths than any other transportation in the country.
Driving in Kenya is interesting. First…you have to drive on the “wrong side” or left side of the road…which is fine. Your brain actually gets used to it pretty quickly. But the lack of road signs, street lights, and RULES means that you really have to concentrate if you want to survive any trip at all. Road conditions add to the challenge as man-eating potholes, cars on the wrong side of the road, busses that lose control and come careening at you (as did one just a few weeks ago while I was in a cab), and COWS being herded from one patch of grass to another make it all—challenging. Pedestrians add their own bit of fun as some think that it’s worthwhile to jump in front of a car on purpose to get hit and ask for money (this happened to me). I know loads of expats who refuse to drive in Kenya. I’m a bit braver although I rarely drive after about 8PM – preferring to take taxis who then take all of the responsibility. Intersections are really just areas for serious games of “chicken” to be played where you nudge out…and nudge some more…and then make your turn. It helps when you’re driving a really old, tough looking Land Rover because people generally give you the right of way – even matatus. My first car – a rental car – was basically a Honda Accord and no one was afraid… The Land Rover scares just about everyone…which is nice!
Driving in Kenya despite all of its challenges is worthwhile because you get to know the city and can see more being mobile. But with a vehicle comes the potential for violent crime in the form of car-jackings and robberies. My friend was carjacked by three armed men when she was dropping off a friend. The three guys and my two friends drove around long enough to empty out their bank accounts and have all of their mobiles, etc. stolen. No one was hurt and they didn’t want the car…but…that three men with guns were in the car for two hours driving around is scary enough. I think the worst part of the ordeal was actually considering that if she had been alone, the evening would have been far more violent and dangerous for my friend. One of the more gruesome crime surges in Nairobi (and there have been several in the past few months) has people stealing corpses from morgues, throwing them on cars as they drive by, and then attacking the poor sod who stops to help the “person”. Pretty desperate stuff. After my accident and dealing with police and an American Embassy that liked to put me into voice-mail as I was being threatened with jail (for a bribe…not because I was at fault), I have accepted the advice of friends and police who all say, “if you hit anyone – especially at night – leave them on the road and drive straight to the police.” It’s far too dangerous in Nairobi at night to stop and help someone and that is just entirely sad. The night of my accident a mob grew within minutes and I can say with absolutely certainty that if I had been alone that night, I would have been injured/attacked.
So violent crime is here—like every big city—but it seems to be a bit more depraved. I don’t know. Throwing corpses at cars is beyond anything I’ve ever heard of before anywhere… Car-jackings, armed robberies, shootings/murders, and rape are all part of the landscape and most Kenyans would tell you that the recent surge is largely contributed to the Sudanese and Somali refugees pouring into Kenya every month. Somalis in particular get the most blame because they have a large community in Nairobi and seem to have huge sums of money for buying land, politicians, and businesses. I’ve no doubt at all that the guns that the CIA and other governments are running into Somalia (all on the QT of course) are filtering back into Kenya for crime. You can actually “hire” an AK-47 by the hour in Kenya and pay per bullet – Wal-mart doesn’t touch these guys in terms of bargains and incentives. I’ve been talking to some of my more connected Somalis and have been trying to convince them to engage in a nice PR campaign to restore a bit of their image – Somalis are nice. They agree that it’s necessary but in true Somali fashion cannot possibly agree on who is to pay and who would control the work. It’s clan vs. clan on every level. The Northern border is entirely porous and the Kenyan politicians seem entirely unequipped or uninterested in ensuring safety. There’s simply too much money coming in from Somalia to try and completely shut down the border. So the government looks the other way and hopes that nothing bad happens. Another attack (like when the US Embassy was bombed 10 years ago) would cripple Kenya for years given their post-election violence last year. More and more it seems the press refers to Kenya and Somalia as the same country and that’s dangerous. Kenya would dry up and starve to death if tourists stopped coming and the UN, USAID, and other government agencies pulled out…so it’s a bit scary.
So how do I feel safe? Good question. I don’t’ spend much time out at night quite honestly. If I do go out, it’s to one of a few places that I know and where friends meet. I always take a taxi when going out for all sorts of reasons – some have been mentioned. I don’t drink much (I’m not much of a drinker anyway) and am home by about 11PM…I feel safer doing all of that. I don’t walk around after 8PM and NEVER walk around downtown once it’s dark. I’m as aware as I can be and feel pretty safe most of the time…safer than when I lived in DC but not nearly as safe as Cairo. Our apartment complex, like every other compound, is guarded by 24-hour security guards called “askaris” and electric fences topped with razor wire surround the entire place. I live on the top floor and every door has a metal, security door… So it’s safe enough. I’m not interested in making Nairobi sound like the most dangerous place in the world – it clearly isn’t. But Nairobi certainly has its crime and danger that require some pretty fine-tuned street smarts and a sense of “what’s meant to be will be”…
I’m driving my 1975 Land Rover down a bumpy Nairobi road
Police standing on the side of the road wave their hand and flag me down
I pull over and turn off the engine
The policeman comes over and asks for my license
I hold the license up to the window (this is critical – it is against Kenyan law for a policeman to actually “have” your license – something I remind them of every single time I’m stopped and they want to “hold” it)
They review it and then I ask them “what else do you want? You’re wasting my time”
To which they say, “I’m not wasting time I’m keeping Kenya safe”
To which I say, “Keep Kenya safe and stop criminals…I’m not a criminal.”
And then…before waiting for yet another tedious comment, I start the car and drive off. (This learned while riding in countless taxis and private cars)
Now for those who are shocked at the brazen exchange note that it is the same for everyone who’s pulled over and who has done absolutely nothing in violation of the law. Kenyans are less brazen than expats for all sorts of obvious reasons but I quickly discovered that if you engage in their bullshit on any level, you’re in for a hassle or money or both. But if you call them on their bullshit and quote Kenyan law (which they don’t know and can’t quote), then you’re sorted. I loathe checkpoints and they’re all over the city – particularly at night. There’s nothing wrong with my vehicle or my driving but being pulled over makes me nervous regardless. In America, if you’re pulled over, you’re busted. You’re caught doing something wrong 99% of the time. In Kenya, you’re pulled over for lunch money. In a country where the police are essentially unsupervised and “uncontrolled” (so much so that the UN issued a report and called for the dismantling and rebuilding of the entire force), the police make my skin crawl.
If the police were committed to doing their job…it would benefit Kenya’s growing traffic problem. Nairobi and outlying suburbs are the result of English colonialism way back when…and if you’ve ever been to London you know the English system of road building isn’t so great. The roads in Nairobi are narrow, poorly paved, full of traffic circles that don’t circulate, and dangerous. Matatus (essentially a minibus that is public transportation) litter the entire country and are controlled by corrupt politicians and police who all answer to the “tribal mafia”. So there are no rules for matatus and that means chaos. Matatus drive on sidewalks, on the wrong side of the road, and just about anywhere else to get ahead because time is literally money. They are never maintained properly, driven by guys who drink illegal brew called “changaa” and chew khat (a weed you chew to get high) all day long while they ferry people around. Their “tout” or the guy that rides in the back to take the money is just as high and often very rude pushing people in and pulling people out. Matatus are a necessary evil in a country with no rail system (a subway like the one in Cairo would transform Kenya) but they are also responsible for more traffic accidents and deaths than any other transportation in the country.
Driving in Kenya is interesting. First…you have to drive on the “wrong side” or left side of the road…which is fine. Your brain actually gets used to it pretty quickly. But the lack of road signs, street lights, and RULES means that you really have to concentrate if you want to survive any trip at all. Road conditions add to the challenge as man-eating potholes, cars on the wrong side of the road, busses that lose control and come careening at you (as did one just a few weeks ago while I was in a cab), and COWS being herded from one patch of grass to another make it all—challenging. Pedestrians add their own bit of fun as some think that it’s worthwhile to jump in front of a car on purpose to get hit and ask for money (this happened to me). I know loads of expats who refuse to drive in Kenya. I’m a bit braver although I rarely drive after about 8PM – preferring to take taxis who then take all of the responsibility. Intersections are really just areas for serious games of “chicken” to be played where you nudge out…and nudge some more…and then make your turn. It helps when you’re driving a really old, tough looking Land Rover because people generally give you the right of way – even matatus. My first car – a rental car – was basically a Honda Accord and no one was afraid… The Land Rover scares just about everyone…which is nice!
Driving in Kenya despite all of its challenges is worthwhile because you get to know the city and can see more being mobile. But with a vehicle comes the potential for violent crime in the form of car-jackings and robberies. My friend was carjacked by three armed men when she was dropping off a friend. The three guys and my two friends drove around long enough to empty out their bank accounts and have all of their mobiles, etc. stolen. No one was hurt and they didn’t want the car…but…that three men with guns were in the car for two hours driving around is scary enough. I think the worst part of the ordeal was actually considering that if she had been alone, the evening would have been far more violent and dangerous for my friend. One of the more gruesome crime surges in Nairobi (and there have been several in the past few months) has people stealing corpses from morgues, throwing them on cars as they drive by, and then attacking the poor sod who stops to help the “person”. Pretty desperate stuff. After my accident and dealing with police and an American Embassy that liked to put me into voice-mail as I was being threatened with jail (for a bribe…not because I was at fault), I have accepted the advice of friends and police who all say, “if you hit anyone – especially at night – leave them on the road and drive straight to the police.” It’s far too dangerous in Nairobi at night to stop and help someone and that is just entirely sad. The night of my accident a mob grew within minutes and I can say with absolutely certainty that if I had been alone that night, I would have been injured/attacked.
So violent crime is here—like every big city—but it seems to be a bit more depraved. I don’t know. Throwing corpses at cars is beyond anything I’ve ever heard of before anywhere… Car-jackings, armed robberies, shootings/murders, and rape are all part of the landscape and most Kenyans would tell you that the recent surge is largely contributed to the Sudanese and Somali refugees pouring into Kenya every month. Somalis in particular get the most blame because they have a large community in Nairobi and seem to have huge sums of money for buying land, politicians, and businesses. I’ve no doubt at all that the guns that the CIA and other governments are running into Somalia (all on the QT of course) are filtering back into Kenya for crime. You can actually “hire” an AK-47 by the hour in Kenya and pay per bullet – Wal-mart doesn’t touch these guys in terms of bargains and incentives. I’ve been talking to some of my more connected Somalis and have been trying to convince them to engage in a nice PR campaign to restore a bit of their image – Somalis are nice. They agree that it’s necessary but in true Somali fashion cannot possibly agree on who is to pay and who would control the work. It’s clan vs. clan on every level. The Northern border is entirely porous and the Kenyan politicians seem entirely unequipped or uninterested in ensuring safety. There’s simply too much money coming in from Somalia to try and completely shut down the border. So the government looks the other way and hopes that nothing bad happens. Another attack (like when the US Embassy was bombed 10 years ago) would cripple Kenya for years given their post-election violence last year. More and more it seems the press refers to Kenya and Somalia as the same country and that’s dangerous. Kenya would dry up and starve to death if tourists stopped coming and the UN, USAID, and other government agencies pulled out…so it’s a bit scary.
So how do I feel safe? Good question. I don’t’ spend much time out at night quite honestly. If I do go out, it’s to one of a few places that I know and where friends meet. I always take a taxi when going out for all sorts of reasons – some have been mentioned. I don’t drink much (I’m not much of a drinker anyway) and am home by about 11PM…I feel safer doing all of that. I don’t walk around after 8PM and NEVER walk around downtown once it’s dark. I’m as aware as I can be and feel pretty safe most of the time…safer than when I lived in DC but not nearly as safe as Cairo. Our apartment complex, like every other compound, is guarded by 24-hour security guards called “askaris” and electric fences topped with razor wire surround the entire place. I live on the top floor and every door has a metal, security door… So it’s safe enough. I’m not interested in making Nairobi sound like the most dangerous place in the world – it clearly isn’t. But Nairobi certainly has its crime and danger that require some pretty fine-tuned street smarts and a sense of “what’s meant to be will be”…
Food for Thought...
Food stabilizes things – I’m convinced of this. If people have a full belly every day then they’re less likely to get angry and to start a riot. This is my own theory…no science. Kenya cannot feed itself despite the presence of outrageously fertile land and many a hand to do the work. Kenya is in fact starving. Thousands and thousands and perhaps millions of Kenyans don’t eat every day. And while the government runs around and blames the climate change and all sorts of other monsters, the truth is Kenyan politicians have somewhere along the way decided that keeping people hungry keeps them a bit edgy. And when people are kept hungry and edgy, then they’re eager to vote for you when you throw a bag of maize at them during an election campaign. And they’ll kill for you when the election doesn’t go so well and you’ve lost. (Again, my theory.) Africa has more fertile land and opportunity for agriculture, despite climate change, than anywhere else in the world. The soil is rich and red and you can stick anything into the ground and it grows...quickly. But Africa is starving itself to death.
Now…climate change is very real. I believe that. I’ve lived through a time in Nairobi when I would sit outside on my balcony and the Nairobi air was very hot and very dusty. The whole damned country was so dry that dust was traveling in from up-country and was covering every thing. It’s as bad as living in Cairo—which is A DESERT. There’s been a huge push of late to evict all “land grabbers” who have illegally settled on forest-land to cultivate. The destruction of the Mau Forest – the largest water catchment area in Kenya has lead to the direct devastation of countless natural areas throughout Kenya. Rivers that are usually fed by the Mau system have gone dry. Crocs and hippos dried up in the sun. Elephants were dropping dead from a lack of water and food…along with other animal groups. And people were dying by the thousands. Old women were being sent out into the bush to die so that young ones could hope to survive off of the meager food and water they could scratch together. Cattle were dropping dead all over the country. Children stopped going to school so that they could spend all of their time and energy trying to find food and water in multiple areas. Kenya watched idly by as their politicians and residents shattered their ecosystems. Political gifts given by old dictators including illegal parcels of land have lead to such deforestation that Nairobi was last year choked by a drought that literally covered in dust. And the government sits idly by. People said it was political suicide when the Prime Minister decided to evict all settlers out of the Mau. They said he would never survive. Kenyans are now supporting him and it could be the shining legacy of his term and the issue that launches him to President in 2012.
Now…climate change is very real. I believe that. I’ve lived through a time in Nairobi when I would sit outside on my balcony and the Nairobi air was very hot and very dusty. The whole damned country was so dry that dust was traveling in from up-country and was covering every thing. It’s as bad as living in Cairo—which is A DESERT. There’s been a huge push of late to evict all “land grabbers” who have illegally settled on forest-land to cultivate. The destruction of the Mau Forest – the largest water catchment area in Kenya has lead to the direct devastation of countless natural areas throughout Kenya. Rivers that are usually fed by the Mau system have gone dry. Crocs and hippos dried up in the sun. Elephants were dropping dead from a lack of water and food…along with other animal groups. And people were dying by the thousands. Old women were being sent out into the bush to die so that young ones could hope to survive off of the meager food and water they could scratch together. Cattle were dropping dead all over the country. Children stopped going to school so that they could spend all of their time and energy trying to find food and water in multiple areas. Kenya watched idly by as their politicians and residents shattered their ecosystems. Political gifts given by old dictators including illegal parcels of land have lead to such deforestation that Nairobi was last year choked by a drought that literally covered in dust. And the government sits idly by. People said it was political suicide when the Prime Minister decided to evict all settlers out of the Mau. They said he would never survive. Kenyans are now supporting him and it could be the shining legacy of his term and the issue that launches him to President in 2012.
Why Kenya?
I can’t really be honest about my Kenyan experience unless I talk about why I came here. I came here for love. I came here because I met a Kenyan in 2006 that changed me forever. He talked about family and kids and all of the things that I decided I wanted at age 36/37. I came back in 2007 to solidify/confirm feelings, etc. and then moved here in 2008. I’m going to skip all of the tedious, painful, not so wonderful details, but at the end of the day, I’m not married, don’t have children and my beloved is definitely not in my life. I mention this only because one of the most difficult parts of living here has been learning how to navigate the very tricky sexual dynamics in this country. I’ve learned that telling a woman that you want to have children with her is equivalent to an American man saying, “Hi. I like you. Let’s date.” I’ve learned that monogamy is really a silly Western concept for most men here – even the 85% who go to church on Sunday. It’s entirely acceptable for a married man with children to also have a girlfriend on the side with a baby or two. African men are allowed to “marry” as many women as they like so monogamy and “faithfulness” have entirely different tones. And what of marriage? Well, there’s the tribal marriage, and “come as you stay” marriage, and a church marriage. All are recognized. All are legal. All have implied legal rights. BUT when you ask a man you meet, “are you married?” you’re not really asking the right question. What you must learn to ask is, “have you ever participated in any ceremony be it legal, tribal or otherwise that would in any interpretation be considered a wedding ceremony?” And I learned that lesson the hard way. My darling dearest, who shall remain nameless, told me he had two children from a previous relationship. When we finally saw each other long after I'd arrived in Kenya and I had gotten a bit smarter about things and asked “have you ever participated in any ceremony be it legal, tribal or otherwise that would in any interpretation be considered a wedding ceremony?”—he said NO. Never. Of course I then soon discovered that he didn’t consider himself married because they never chewed on a goat’s ear (a tribal tradition) so the fact that he had lived with and maintained a family (and that includes a wife) for 10 years didn’t really fit HIS definition of married so his answer to me was, technically, correct. Try making sense of that one. And as much as I’d like to say that my little peach is the only prat capable of such ridiculous nuance, he’s not. I can say that in my own “field research” most men have lied to me about their home life to some degree. If there’s no “wife”, there’s a “baby mama” (girlfriend with a baby or babies). “But we’re not married.” OR there are those that have just sat down with me at a business lunch, listened to my producer pitch for all of five minutes, and then said, “…that’s all fine. When can we have sex?” Most are married…some aren’t. That’s how they roll in Kenya. And it’s all just really strange. All of it. Men who want to get me pregnant but who don’t want to date…first. Married men who want a white girlfriend. “Semi-married” men who want to add to their brood. I could go on and on with the various scenarios which are all playing out in Kenya. And you haven’t even gotten so far as to entertain sex yet…you’re just having a meal… The HIV prevalence in Kenya overall is very high...some say 1:9…pretty scary stuff. So IF you find someone who isn’t married, committed, chewing a goat’s ear, living with their baby mama, etc., then you have to confront the very real situation of HIV/AIDS and a host of other public health issues and you must be FEROCIOUS about them. And if you’ve ever had a FEROCIOUS conversation about sex…it pretty much sucks the sex out of the room. You still hear very intelligent, successful men say, “I don’t need to use a condom because we’re both really clean people”. I’ve actually gone out for a romantic dinner only to leave in a taxi because the conversation went from smoochy smoochy to a fight over why a condom is necessary. And all of this leaves me feeling a bit sad and very weary…which isn’t a nice place to be. There are three reasons men want to be with me a male friend of mine told me one, “to cheat because their wives will never meet you”, “for a visa (American visa is a very hot commodity), or “for money”. And he’s Kenyan! Tough not to get jaded when that’s the case. Oh! I almost forgot the fourth reason that he developed a few weeks later… “you’re almost 40, single, no kids…clearly you’re desperate…” Nice.
Now are all men dogs? Definitely not. My current boyfriend is an absolutely amazing man. But is there a dramatic cultural gap between the guys I know in America that cheat and the lifestyle of cheating that isn’t really cheating here.
Which makes me think about African women more and more. You know, most Africans exist on less than $1.00US/day. They live in extreme poverty and don’t eat every day. While I look out from my very nice balcony in my very nice flat at the cars parked below and over to the beautiful swimming pool, I am constantly reminded that I am living a version of Africa that is real for very few locals. The very educated, upper middle class and rich live this way…most do not. And what’s strange about that is that I don’t live what I consider to be an opulent lifestyle. I don’t eat out several times a week. I don’t go out to the movies much (unless my girlfriend "R" wants to go on cheap movie night). I don’t buy new clothes or shoes. I don’t have a flash car (I drive a borrowed 1975 Land Rover 109 – “The Beast”). I have flatmates so I can afford my apartment. But in this country—I’m rich. Wealthy. And so I think about Kenyan women who struggle most days to care for their families and even for those that don’t struggle so much. And I realize that part of their struggle is the on-going battle to hang on to the man in their life. Because it makes a difference most of the time. Two incomes are better than one no matter how small the income may well be. So as an African woman, you learn to keep quiet when he doesn’t come home until very late – or at all. And you try to ignore when you hear through the streets that your husband has a girlfriend…with a baby. And you try not to cringe too much when he’s in your bed knowing that you’re participating in what the HIV world calls “concurrency” – where there’s more than one relationship going on between a married couple. (…he’s with his wife AND his girlfriend and the girlfriend has her other lovers…) Do you say NO to his advances like the NGO’s tell you knowing full well he might not pay rent because you did? Or do you try and demand a condom in your marriage bed knowing you may get the same result? It’s definitely a dilemma for many women. Women have been given so many “empowerment” messages in this part of the world to try and protect themselves from HIV/AIDS that they seemed to have “moved forward” a bit and left the men behind. So when you’re empowered wife demands a condom in the bedroom because she knows you’re with other women, the not so empowered left behind man is lost. He doesn’t understand this new woman and, at times, beats her to bring back the woman he does know. So when you ask a Kenyan man if he cheats, you’re really asking a question that makes NO sense in Africa because “cheating” is a decidedly un-African point of view. So imagine the frustration and fear of women who have been told about HIV, who attempt to assert their sexual rights in their relationship, and who are confronted by a frustrated, fearful man who feels like he’s losing his culture, his identity, and his wife. “It’s all just a bit upside down” is how one of my good male friends put it. I agree.
Now are all men dogs? Definitely not. My current boyfriend is an absolutely amazing man. But is there a dramatic cultural gap between the guys I know in America that cheat and the lifestyle of cheating that isn’t really cheating here.
Which makes me think about African women more and more. You know, most Africans exist on less than $1.00US/day. They live in extreme poverty and don’t eat every day. While I look out from my very nice balcony in my very nice flat at the cars parked below and over to the beautiful swimming pool, I am constantly reminded that I am living a version of Africa that is real for very few locals. The very educated, upper middle class and rich live this way…most do not. And what’s strange about that is that I don’t live what I consider to be an opulent lifestyle. I don’t eat out several times a week. I don’t go out to the movies much (unless my girlfriend "R" wants to go on cheap movie night). I don’t buy new clothes or shoes. I don’t have a flash car (I drive a borrowed 1975 Land Rover 109 – “The Beast”). I have flatmates so I can afford my apartment. But in this country—I’m rich. Wealthy. And so I think about Kenyan women who struggle most days to care for their families and even for those that don’t struggle so much. And I realize that part of their struggle is the on-going battle to hang on to the man in their life. Because it makes a difference most of the time. Two incomes are better than one no matter how small the income may well be. So as an African woman, you learn to keep quiet when he doesn’t come home until very late – or at all. And you try to ignore when you hear through the streets that your husband has a girlfriend…with a baby. And you try not to cringe too much when he’s in your bed knowing that you’re participating in what the HIV world calls “concurrency” – where there’s more than one relationship going on between a married couple. (…he’s with his wife AND his girlfriend and the girlfriend has her other lovers…) Do you say NO to his advances like the NGO’s tell you knowing full well he might not pay rent because you did? Or do you try and demand a condom in your marriage bed knowing you may get the same result? It’s definitely a dilemma for many women. Women have been given so many “empowerment” messages in this part of the world to try and protect themselves from HIV/AIDS that they seemed to have “moved forward” a bit and left the men behind. So when you’re empowered wife demands a condom in the bedroom because she knows you’re with other women, the not so empowered left behind man is lost. He doesn’t understand this new woman and, at times, beats her to bring back the woman he does know. So when you ask a Kenyan man if he cheats, you’re really asking a question that makes NO sense in Africa because “cheating” is a decidedly un-African point of view. So imagine the frustration and fear of women who have been told about HIV, who attempt to assert their sexual rights in their relationship, and who are confronted by a frustrated, fearful man who feels like he’s losing his culture, his identity, and his wife. “It’s all just a bit upside down” is how one of my good male friends put it. I agree.
Why in the middle?
So...I've finally broken down and decided to offer a blog vs. trying to send lengthy emails home to friends and family...not sure if I'll be good at this but I'll try. I like thinking about life in the middle for a few reasons...
I live on the Equator in Nairobi, Kenya.
I'm 40 and thus "middle aged"...
And there's another reason I can't quite remember...so here goes...
I live on the Equator in Nairobi, Kenya.
I'm 40 and thus "middle aged"...
And there's another reason I can't quite remember...so here goes...
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