Mzungu, Mzungu! (and proud of it)

          I would be remiss if I didn’t at least write a little bit about being a white woman in Nairobi.  In Cross Cultural Communications at American University we learn about the white knapsack and how being white distinguishes you and gives you tools that you may not always know that you have but are always there for you to use.  I never really believed that theory, but living in Kenya has definitely opened my eyes to what it means to be a white person in another country.

            I was spoiled growing up in Southern California- the ethnic diversity was such that the color of your skin really wasn’t the end all be all.  I had friends of all different nationalities and it didn’t mean anything besides the fact that sometimes they would have conversations in languages I could not understand and I was lucky enough to try a lot of really good homemade ethnic food.  Going to university in Washington D.C. meant that there were a few more white people, but the number of international students was so high that I still had such a high exposure to people of different beliefs and culture and it was not out of the norm to interact with a diverse range of people.

            Now to Kenya: 97% of Kenya is black African leaving the other 3% to Asians, Chinese (they get their own category according to Kenyans), expats, and development workers.  That leaves the number of people who are blond hair, blue eyed very, very limited.  Not including the other girl in my program who is blond, I may see a handful of blond people a week.  Standing out to such a degree has been really difficult on me.  In one respect, I am naturally a very clumsy person and knowing that every time I trip or stumble on a dirt path or jumping off a matau dozens of eyes will be on me makes me nervous and even clumsier.  In another regard, it is difficult to be unable to blend in anywhere that I go.  The only place where I can let my guard down is within the gate of my apartment- everywhere else I am pushed and pulled as people ask me for money, signatures, or my hand in marriage.  The word “mzungu” (foreigner) is one that I have come to dislike strongly as the word is my greeting from the vendors at the market, people on the street, and children incessantly pointing.  Being white is the go ahead to charge double, sometimes triple, for a anything at the market.  In matatus they may charge 10 to 20 bob over if we aren’t careful and don’t even get me started on how much they overcharge at souvnier stalls.   Lately, I have started asking the vendor whether they will charge me the Kenyan or mzungu price in Kiswahili and they almost always fall over in shock to see that 1) I recognize that I get ripped off 2) I speak their language. 

            With all of the attention and the ever present belief that I am wealthy and influential (not the poor college student I am), there are benefits that come with being a white person here that I do not ask for but received anyway- my knapsack.  When a matatu or bus pulls up, it almost always pulls up in front of me first so that I can get on.  I can enter any sophisticated hotel or restaurant to use my computer or their toilet (that for sure will have toilet paper) without getting stopped because most people assume I belong there even if I’m not looking my best.  Restaurants will serve me more food because they want me to be impressed so I come back and give them more business.  If I’m ever lost, I know there will be dozens of Kenyan men who will not only give me directions but also walk me there (as long as I don’t mind being asked for my phone number over and over again).  When going to meetings with local representatives at Sisi ni Amani, my boss or I are often asked to attend because matters will go smoother if someone with white skin is there.  In its most basic form, that concept of white privilege is still glaringly there due to misperceptions of the wealth and grandeur of the white world.  Even if I don’t ask for it and am ashamed at being treated as such, it is impossible for me to be treated any other way.  My white knapsack is firmly in place and short of changing my skin color and hair, there is nothing that I can do to change the perception of random people I meet in the street.

            In the beginning of my time here, this attention bothered me a lot- I hated being called mzungu, I hated when a taxi assumed I would want to pay their expensive price rather than walk ten minutes, or when people followed me trying to get money or a visa, ect.  Very quickly, however, I realized that there was nothing that I could do to change this misperception and I had to adjust as best as I could.  While it is still difficult, and I still at times feel very much like an outsider, it forced me to evaluate who I am and my beliefs about the world and I have found that for the most part being here has strengthened what I think both about the world and about who I am.  At times I wanted to change who I was or what I did because I thought that it might make me stand out a bit less, but every time, I found more satisfaction in being the person that I really was- not the person I was trying to pretend to be.  And being who you are in a country where you don’t fit in only makes you a stronger person.  I have come to realize that being comfortable with who I am, especially here, is one of the best lessons that I can take with me.

           

SIsi ni Amani (We are Peace)

        Two weeks ago I began my internship at Sisi ni Amani (We are Peace in Kiswahili) and it has completely and absolutely consumed me.  If I did not already have a plane ticket home, I would be making plans to stay in Kenya for as long as possible to continue my work with Sisi ni Amani, so I would like to share a bit of my experiences with you all (since I probably won’t be able to stop talking about it when I get home).

            Sisi ni Amani developed in response to the post election violence in 2007-2008.  After the violence occurred, Kenya was a magnet for peace and community groups all working together to try to bring stability and peace to the region and strengthen societal ties in order to prevent something similar from happening in 2012.  Sisi ni Amani formed to deal with the issue of disjointedness between all of these communities- so many groups were mobilizing but there was no connection between them which often created disorder and chaos.  Sisi ni Amani is using new SMS technology to link members within a group to each other as well as linking the groups as a whole utilizing local leadership structures that are already in place to create a reliable and expansive network dedicated towards peace and community empowerment.

            As an intern, I have several responsibilities ranging from administrative work to social media to field work.   Very few of my responsibilities am I actually qualified for (I sent my first tweet last week and it was one of the most stressful things I have done!), but I am learning in leaps and bounds and absolutely love everything that I do.  One aspect of my work here is that of the administrative, day to day tasks.  I compile phone numbers (thousands of them) into our database, take notes at meetings, research funding opportunities, and am in the middle of writing a grant proposal to expand our operations into hopefully Narok and Naivasha.  This work has given me a better grasp of what it takes to run an organization and how to best go about recruiting leadership, networking, and interacting with people of different beliefs and backgrounds then my own.  In addition to administrative work, I update our various forms of social media as often as I can through facebook, blogs, and tweeting.  It is interesting how even small, frequent posts can make a difference in an organization’s reputation and how the more medias you use the better it is for your organization. After every meeting, outreach, or piece of positive news, I write a short blog post to be put on our website in addition to tweeting about it and adding a new facebook post.  In addition, I compile bios about the community groups and community leaders that we work with and add it to our website.  Besides that, I also contribute footage to videos detailing the importance of Sisi ni Amani, Peace through SMS, and the contrast between post election violence and today by interviewing various community partners.  *To those who know me, my strong suit is the farthest thing from technology so it has all been a very, veryeducating experience.  Lastly, I work on outreach with two different communities: Narok in the Rift Valley and the Korogocho and Baba Dogo slums in Nairobi.  In Narok, I have attended several meetings regarding the planning and implementation of their various outreaches and will be attending the culmination of all of this planning for two days in town this week.  Towards the end of my time here, I will attend their strategic planning session and observe the groups creating a plan for the sustainability of the program as well as their discussions on the causes of violence in Kenya.  In Korogocho and Baba Dogo, I have attended several planning meetings with our local leaders which has given me a much better sense of community dynamics and am looking forward to working with them and their outreach over the next few weeks.

            What I love about Sisi ni Amani is the fact that they utilize local partners to create change in Kenya.  The director is an American from Tufts, but she is always very adament that it is our local leaders who are in charge- not her which is a sentiment that empowers and strengthens the networks already in place at the community level.  Following this method has challenged me to listen more and check my preconceptions that I come with as an American from the Western/First World/Global North (whatever you want to call it).  There are so many issues that are impossible to understand without first meeting and interacting with the people who live here, it doesn’t surprise me how to see how ineffective large NGOs are that waltz into an area with a plan and no room for compromise.  Of all that I have learned thus far, I think one of the most lasting will be the fact that I know very little about the world and I can create the most impact first by sitting, listening, and giving my skills and talents to those who know what need to be done. 

SIsi ni Amani (We are Peace)

        Two weeks ago I began my internship at Sisi ni Amani (We are Peace in Kiswahili) and it has completely and absolutely consumed me.  If I did not already have a plane ticket home, I would be making plans to stay in Kenya for as long as possible to continue my work with Sisi ni Amani, so I would like to share a bit of my experiences with you all (since I probably won’t be able to stop talking about it when I get home).

            Sisi ni Amani developed in response to the post election violence in 2007-2008.  After the violence occurred, Kenya was a magnet for peace and community groups all working together to try to bring stability and peace to the region and strengthen societal ties in order to prevent something similar from happening in 2012.  Sisi ni Amani formed to deal with the issue of disjointedness between all of these communities- so many groups were mobilizing but there was no connection between them which often created disorder and chaos.  Sisi ni Amani is using new SMS technology to link members within a group to each other as well as linking the groups as a whole utilizing local leadership structures that are already in place to create a reliable and expansive network dedicated towards peace and community empowerment.

            As an intern, I have several responsibilities ranging from administrative work to social media to field work.   Very few of my responsibilities am I actually qualified for (I sent my first tweet last week and it was one of the most stressful things I have done!), but I am learning in leaps and bounds and absolutely love everything that I do.  One aspect of my work here is that of the administrative, day to day tasks.  I compile phone numbers (thousands of them) into our database, take notes at meetings, research funding opportunities, and am in the middle of writing a grant proposal to expand our operations into hopefully Narok and Naivasha.  This work has given me a better grasp of what it takes to run an organization and how to best go about recruiting leadership, networking, and interacting with people of different beliefs and backgrounds then my own.  In addition to administrative work, I update our various forms of social media as often as I can through facebook, blogs, and tweeting.  It is interesting how even small, frequent posts can make a difference in an organization’s reputation and how the more medias you use the better it is for your organization. After every meeting, outreach, or piece of positive news, I write a short blog post to be put on our website in addition to tweeting about it and adding a new facebook post.  In addition, I compile bios about the community groups and community leaders that we work with and add it to our website.  Besides that, I also contribute footage to videos detailing the importance of Sisi ni Amani, Peace through SMS, and the contrast between post election violence and today by interviewing various community partners.  *To those who know me, my strong suit is the farthest thing from technology so it has all been a very, veryeducating experience.  Lastly, I work on outreach with two different communities: Narok in the Rift Valley and the Korogocho and Baba Dogo slums in Nairobi.  In Narok, I have attended several meetings regarding the planning and implementation of their various outreaches and will be attending the culmination of all of this planning for two days in town this week.  Towards the end of my time here, I will attend their strategic planning session and observe the groups creating a plan for the sustainability of the program as well as their discussions on the causes of violence in Kenya.  In Korogocho and Baba Dogo, I have attended several planning meetings with our local leaders which has given me a much better sense of community dynamics and am looking forward to working with them and their outreach over the next few weeks.

            What I love about Sisi ni Amani is the fact that they utilize local partners to create change in Kenya.  The director is an American from Tufts, but she is always very adament that it is our local leaders who are in charge- not her which is a sentiment that empowers and strengthens the networks already in place at the community level.  Following this method has challenged me to listen more and check my preconceptions that I come with as an American from the Western/First World/Global North (whatever you want to call it).  There are so many issues that are impossible to understand without first meeting and interacting with the people who live here, it doesn’t surprise me how to see how ineffective large NGOs are that waltz into an area with a plan and no room for compromise.  Of all that I have learned thus far, I think one of the most lasting will be the fact that I know very little about the world and I can create the most impact first by sitting, listening, and giving my skills and talents to those who know what need to be done. 

Spring Break: Partying it up in Ukambani!

         Last week, for my spring break, my classmates and I spent a week in rural Ukambani (Land of the Kamba) living, working, and eating with out host family.  While the focus of our program is to study urban planning and development, we went to live in a rural village to give us a more diverse perspective on life and culture in Kenya.  For one week we used pit latrines located outside of the house often crawling with cockroaches, lizards, and centipedes, awkwardly bathed using a bucket bath, walked long distances with donkeys to fetch water, and wore khangas (pieces of fabric that you use almost as a skirt but also serves as a towel, blanket, pillow, and band aid for when you cut your hand open with a scythe).  In addition, we received many stares as most of the inhabitants has seen very few white people and even less blondes.

            I stayed with a woman named Jacinta and she had seven children, three of whom worked in Nairobi, and her husband who was in the military but came home at the and of the week for the party.  Of the four children that were still at home, one daughter had a slight deformity with her foot making it hard for her to walk long distances, one son had a mental illness that prevented him from speaking, writing, talking, or understanding most of what was being said, and a young son and daughter who had way too much energy for the small house we lived in.  Only the eldest daughter spoke enough English to have somewhat whole sentences with me and the rest of the family preferred Kikamba to Kiswahili so it was an interesting week of me mixing English, Swahili, Kamba, and hand gestures to explain what I needed or wanted.  The layout of the house itself was a living room where one of the girls slept, a side room where I and the eldest daughter shared a bed that doubled as a storage room, a room for the boys, and a room for the parents.  Outside of the house there was another building that was used for the chickens, turkeys, and cooking and another one farthest away from the house that served as the choo.  My family had an extensive amount of animals influding turkeys, chickens, goats, sheep, cows, and a donkey that all roamed freely around the compound during the day and expansive farmland.

            In terms of the work I did…it was never more apparent how absolutely useless I am than during this week.  I don’t think my host mom understood that life in America is not congruent to life in rural Kenya because she was shocked every time I did not know how to carry out the tasks that she gave me (which was every single time).   One of my chores including finding twigs from around the compound to turn into a broom to then sweep the compound.  Their compound was quite large and the broom I had very short so I was bent over for at least an hour trying to sweep up the stray mango pits, animal dung, and random pieces of trash that had been blown all over the compound.   To dispose of the trash, I had to shovel it onto a feedbag and throw it into the cow pens bringing me way to close to their horns.  Another chore involved me going down to the shamba and cutting long grass with a scythe for hours.  Anyone who knows me knows that me and sharp objects do not necessarily mesh and the cuts on my hand and foot will testify that I have not much changed over the past two months.  To cut the grass, you had to grab the base of the grass (often the grass was dried and tough or intermingled with plants that had thorns or briars) and then cut with the scythe using the jagged edge along blade making almost a sawing motion.  From there I had to bundle large amount of grass, tie it, and then create a harness so I could carry it back up the shamba tied around my head… I was quite a sight in my skirt, khanga, and head wrap tottering as I attempted to carry bales of grass up a hill.   In addition, I gathered dried corn husks and bundled those and threw them into our storage bin for the cows and donkey to eat during times of drought.  While doing this I got a bit too close to a cow’s mouth and it tried to take my foot instead of the corn husk.  One of my most memorable chores including going to the family well along the dried up river bed to collect water with the donkey.  The well was a giant hole with some boards thrown on top of it and to get water I had to stand on the rickety boards, lower the bucket into the water (that had almost died up by this time) and then pull it back up.  Unfortunately, the rope got caught on the wood and when I went to pull up, the rope caught and I was almost flung headlong into well.  The old women who were around me definitely got a kick out of my skinny self flailing helplessly with a bucket of water…

            Eating was also a very different  from what I am used to and I left Ukambani gaining at least a ton because of it.  Every morning we would take chai (cups of tea ladled with milk and way too much sugar) with Blue Band and honey sandwiches or left over chapatti and fried egg.  This is much heavier than the yogurt and piece of toast I generally have and my host mother was not satisfied until I had at least three servings of everything.  In between breakfast and lunch my host family would give me three or four mangoes which I absolutely loved.  To eat them we bit into the skin and peeled it with out teeth and flung all of the scraps to our dogs and turkeys.  For lunch we made either gytheri (a mixture of beans and corn) or sikumu wiki (the Kenyan version of collard greens) and ugali (a mound of flour basically).  Again, the food was good, but my host mother was not satisfied unless I took two or three giant portions of it with at least two cups of chai.  After lunch we had more mangoes and for dinner we had cabbage, rice, and either chicken, or goat.  Goat is a very popular meat here but very fatty and chewing it is like chewing bubble gum and because I was the guest I was given the most and the fattiest pieces- something that I I could have done without.  On my last night there, they killed a chicken in my honor and I watched as they strangled it, defeathered it, and took out and sorted all of the internal organs for us to eat.  Never before have I had so many strange and indecipherable pieces of meat and it took all of my will power to swallow it and not feed it to the dogs under the table.  On the very last day, I and my friend Emily were lucky enough to watch them slaughter the goat for our going away party (sarcasm: it was one of the most traumatizing experiences ever).  We watched as they led the poor goat to the tree, hung it, and then cut the goats neck with a knife, stepping back as the blood spurted.  We were also there to receive a lesson on the internal organs of a goat and how to tell if it is sick or healthy and how to clean out a goat’s intestines with water in order to make blood sausages.  I do no think I will be able to eat goat again…Besides eating the food, I also learned how to cook most of it with sanitation practices that would shock anyone (like rolling the chapatti on the same spot where the chicken was killed without washing it with boiling water) and using instruments that gave me several burns and cuts.  I would sit there over an open flame with some sort of cooking plate on top trying to stop the rickety device from falling, while awkwardly cutting the ingredients needed with a knife that had no handle, feeding the flames twigs and moving the sticks around with my hand when the fire got low, and taking the food of the boiling hot plate with my hand rather than any sort of oven mitt.  In the space of a week, I do not think I have ever received so many cuts and burns but it was fascinating to learn how to cook in a traditional fashion. 

            Living in a rural village is interesting.  It is an experience that I will remember for the rest of my life but for as amazing as it was, it is sobering to remember that for me it was some sort of adventure while for the people of Kuya (where I lived) it was reality.  I got severe food poisoning one night and all I could think of was in two days I will be back with running water and a flushing toilet inside the house and I can eat what I want to eat whereas to my family this was what they experienced every day and there was no escape from it.  What was most interesting was trying to explain to my family what they didn’t have.  They would ask me what I did instead of hand washing my clothes or sweeping the floor of the house, and they couldn’t understand the concept of machines that did the work for you.  They barely understood when I told them about running water and showers.  There are so many things in Washington DC that I took for granted that I realized I could live without when I came to Nairobi- like electricity, hot water, Netflix.  After last week, I learned there were so many things that I took for granted in Nairobi that I could, not happily, live without when I went to Kuya- like running water, toilets, and English speakers.  Rural week was an amazing spring break and I know that in no other setting could I have learned so much- either about myself or the culture of the people I lived with.