The worth of Stale Bread

Not too far from my house in South Africa, there was a play park with swings, roundabouts, and a stream that ran through it, feeding a duck pond.

I used to take the foster kids there at the weekend to let off steam and during the week, I collected stale bread for the smaller ones to feed the ducks.

So, one Saturday, I trotted down the the park with a 7 year-old. He looked at the ducks and swans with interest. I threw a piece of stale bread amongst them and the little boy laughed like a drain as the birds scrabbled about for it.

"Good," I thought and handed the boy the bag of stale bread.

He promptly sat on the bank and ate it.

The Colour of my Skin

I am white English, hence the name that I was given in Kenya, Baba Mzungu, which is "White Dad" in Swahili.

But when I was in Kenya last March, one little boy tried to change all this.

After his morning wash-down, I applied Vaseline to his skin. It makes him look good, and it keeps his skin from drying out.

After I had finished, he took the Vaseline pot and started to grease my bald pate, stating that he was greasing me to make me the same colour as him!

-oOo-

During the Summer, the home had a visitor from the USA, an American student volunteer called Amy.

Benta, one of our little girls, asked Amy what colour she was, to which Amy replied that she was white.

Benta tutted and shook her head. Later, as the Sunday dinner chicken was being plucked, Benta pointed to the chicken and then to Amy's arm. She was telling Amy that she was not white, but the colour of a plucked chicken!

My cousin ...

Courtesy of The Standard on-line

Fears Unfounded

So, the US has just voted in Barak Obama as their 44th President.

What a country, where the son of a Kenyan goat breeder can become the most powerful man in the world, and for now, it is really the land of opportunity.

And Kenya is rejoicing; Kenya is celebrating. Kenya has declared a public holiday on Thursday!

The thing that strikes me is that Barak won over the black vote. It was not a forgone conclusion. He is not like most black Americans. His ancestry did not come out of slavery. He is a first generation American from Africa. The black voters were wary of him, but he won.

US 08

Kenya is suffering election fever again, especially around Kisumu.

I so hope that Barak Obama wins the election tonight.

I don't think Kenya could stand another spate of post-election violence ...

Leisimane - a bit more is added

Little by little, just for the one or two who are following the story of a 12 year-old Sotho boy, Bafana and his escapades, I have just published a couple more chapters.

The link to the beginning is HERE

Jambo, jambo Bwana ...

Jambo
Jambo, Bwana
Habari gani?
Mzuri sana.

So goes the song you will hear, sung by kids as soon as they see a white skin. The other word all kids will use when seeing a Caucasian is "mzungu" (plural, wazungu), meaning white person. It is not offensive, it is a statement of fact. As a general rule, kids love white people. They can usually get sweets from wazungu. But I digress.

The song in English:

Hello
Hello, Sir
How are things?
Very Fine

Jambo!

It means Hello. Everyone says it, tourists particularly. It is often the only Swahili word they know - it isn't, but they don't know that they know others:

Safari - swahili for journey
Simba (as in the Lion King) means lion
Hakuna matata, (also in the the Lion King) means No problems
Daktari - Doctor (those of you of a certain age will remember a TV series of the same name, with Clarence the cross-eyed lion)

But I digress (again).

To gain a bit of street cred in Kenya, (or Uganda, Tanzania), rather than the usual Jambo, you can try Mambo, to which the usual reply is "Poa" (cool), or "Safi" (clean/fresh)

OK, so 'Mambo' is sheng, street language, slang. So if you want to be a bit more "grown-up", try

Habari? - How are things?
Habari gani? - What's new? How are you doing?

To which you reply Mzuri (sana) - Fine (very fine)

Hujambo - a variant of Jambo, also meaning How are you? Answer: Sijambo - I'm fine

Other useful words are:

Asante - thank you
Karibu - welcome (or you are welcome)
Kwa heri - goodbye
Baadaye - Catch you later

I find that although my Swahili is very limited, sprinkling a conversation with a few words is very welcome, and in bartering, lends credibility to your claim that you are not a tourist!

-oOo-

I was shopping in the Nakumatt in Kisii (a chain of supermarkets). They were running a prize draw where, if you spent more than 2,000/- (about £15), you were entered into a draw, the prize being a weekend at a Maasai Mara lodge, with safaris thrown in - nice!

As I was getting stuff for a party for the orphange kids, I spent well over the 2,000/- at which point, I was pounced upon by the floor manager (Remember, I was the only white skin in Kisii), who very enthusiastically explained the draw, the prizes and how to enter in very fine detail.

Now, I had several bags of food shopping, four hula hoops, footballs, and other unwieldy objects, and a 4 year-old who was standing cross-legged, wanting to go to the loo, and I was a little flustered.

I said the most stupid thing to this poor manager. "Do I look like a tourist?"

Let me point out that I was wearing khakis, desert boots and a wide-brimmed hat, and as I had only been in Kenya a few days, I daresay my skin was more than a little pink in places. A more touristy tourist you couldn't hope to see - and of course, I am usually the only mzungu in town.

The poor man didn't know what to say. If he said that I did look like a tourist, I may have been insulted - but I did look like a tourist.

I pointed the little boy to the toilet and then tried to make amends to the manager, who eventually claimed that he could see the funny side of the situation. Whether he did or not, I don't know, but he personally helped me to the car park with all the shopping (and child), asking me where my car was. I didn't have one, I was catching the matatu.

Then, he finally believed that I wasn't a tourist.

All was well, the little boy didn't have an accident in his pants, I got all my shopping to the matatu stand, and the manager went back into his store, feeling that he had done the right thing.

Leisimane - the next two chapters

One or two may have noticed a book starting to appear here, and someone has even read the first two chapters thanks, Potty Mummy).

So, I have posted the next two chapters.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

At the end of each chapter, there is a link to the next, if it has been posted, that is.

Bartering

Being English through and through (apart from a bit of Welsh inherited from one of my grandfathers), the idea/concept of bartering is totally alien.

So, in September last year, I ventured to Kenya. I was chaperoned by a friend whilst in Nairobi and was amazed that he never paid the asking price for anything without an argument.

I watched, listened and learned, but didn't participate.

On my second visit, in March of this year, I was on my own a lot more. My first task was to change some sterling into the local currency. In the bank, the girl behind the counter offered me a rate, let's say 128 shillings to the pound.

"What?" I exclaimed. "I could have got 136 in England. How about 134?"

"I cannot go that high. 130, "says the girl.

"132," I counter. She goes to see the manager and come back with a broad smile. "Yes, Sir, we give you 132."

Wow! Try that in a high street bank over here.

-oOo-

I got on the shuttle to Kisii.

"How much?" I asked.

"800 bob."

"I paid 600 that last time."

"OK, 600 bob."

-oOo-

In Kisii, staying in a house without electricity and a loo at the other end of the plot, I thought a torch would be advantageous. I found a rechargeable LED model on a hawker's stand.

Like and idiot, I showed a little too much interest.

"This wonderful torch, sir, it is only 300 bob."

"You are joking?" I retorted. "I'm not a tourist. I'll give you 250."

"Sir, you are taking the food from my daughter's mouth." But as I turned to go, "OK, 250 bob."

At the house, my hostess was so taken by the torch, the next time I was in town, I decided to get another. It was a different hawker. He saw me coming from a long way off - not difficult as I was probably the only mzungu in town.

I glanced at his wares, safety pins, shaving mirrors, tweezers - and a similar LED torch.

"Mambo." (A sort of slang 'Hello') "How much?" I point at the torch.

"Ah, for you, sir, only 350 bob."

I went through the 'I'm not a tourist' routine again and paid 260/-. It was a better torch, having 6 LEDs instead of the 5 of the previous one.

I am learning. Never pay the asking price for anything if the price is not marked on it. Of course, in the supermarket, it doesn't work, nor in cafés where the menu is marked with prices.

But if you are buying from a market, or a hawker, haggle. You will save a small fortune - or rather, you are less likely to get ripped off. If you are offering too low a price, they won't sell, so they aren't losing - you are not taking the food from his daughter's mouth, believe me.

Oh, and learn a few different ways of saying hello. "Jambo" is used by everyone, native and tourist alike, but to make an impression, try something different.

Being Green ...

Kids in the UK are now being encouraged to be green - no bad thing. But they are also being encouraged to report parents and neighbours who are using too much power.

Don't get me wrong, I am all in favour of saving this planet. It is rather useful - to live on, for example.

But kids in Kenya don't give a damn. All they are interested in is whether they have something to eat. And they don't care how it is cooked, over kerosene, charcoal, wood, whatever. They will chop trees to get fuel to cook. Or buy charcoal (for which someone has to chop down trees). What choice do they have? None. They have to eat.

A difference in priorities.

• In the UK - Survival of the planet;
• In Kenya - Survival.

I bet the kids in Kenya would love to have the opportunity to use a bit less electricity, a little less petrol, switch off the lights when they leave their bedroom, not leaving the TV, computer, games console on standby.

The Threat of Power-cuts ...

It is all doom and gloom at the moment, the UK news. Banks going bankrupt, the threat of power-cuts, food price hikes, fuel prices - it goes on and on.

I thought back to last March when I stayed with my friends in Kisii, SW Kenya, and how happy I was.

There was no electricity at the little two-bedroomed house, occupied by three adults and four young children. There was no running water - it was delivered daily in 25 litre drums and had to be boiled for consumption. The loo was at the end of the plot and was a glorified hole in the ground. There was a wet room and a room for preparing food. I cannot call it a kitchen.

We had a battery-powered radio, a kerosene lamp for the evenings - and each other's company.

And, that last is all I needed. I was happy.

It was a little strange at first, standing in a bowl of tepid water to wash, but I soon got used to it.

I did not have to cook, which is just as well. I don't know how well I would have coped over a single kerosene ring and a charcoal brazier.

I did not miss TV, or a home computer.

In town, there were frequent power cuts and it was a bit annoying if I was in the cyber café, checking emails etc., but I soon became resigned to the fact that this was Kenya.

The two things I really missed were my car - and oxygen. I am mildly disabled and walking any distance is uncomfortable. Kisii is a town on a hill, a town at 5,500ft, so oxygen is a bit scarce. And everywhere is either up or down, there is nowhere flat.

From the house to the town was about 2km, uphill, and I couldn't do it. I had to wait for a taxi or matatu. So I really did miss the ability to jump in my car and go wherever I needed (or wanted) to.

But apart from that, I was happy.

Mind you, the average daytime temperature is 25°C and at night it rarely drops below 16°C. So heating is not an issue.

In Britain, if the power goes, everything goes, no lighting, no heating, no cooking (and no blogging).

Frankly, if the prospect here is to have electricity rationing, I think I'll go back to Kenya.

Before I was Baba Mzungu

I have not always been called Baba Mzungu - of course

When I was in South Africa, I was Leisimane, which means Englishman in Sotho, the language of the people of the same name.

While I was there in 1989, I fostered a couple of street kids, then another couple and then ... etc.

And I kept a diary. All the little anecdotes about these kids from a different culture, speaking a different language. I found it interesting but to anyone else, it was just that, a diary. So I decided to change the perspective and re-wrote it from the point of view of the first of my charges, a 12 year-old Sotho boy, living in a township during the apartheid era. Obviously, my diary only covered the time that they were with me, so I had to plump it out a bit. I had a good idea about what these kids got up to when not with me, but writing about the life of a 12 year-old in the style of a 12 year-old was a challenge.

Well, here's a taster:

Leisimane

You can never guess the consequences of a simple mistake.

A young boy is begging in a suburb of Johannesburg. He is very competent, but he suffers a slip of the tongue, a Freudian slip perhaps, when instead of asking for money to buy bread for a fictitious little sister, he instead asks for money to buy the chicken and chips he longs for.

What happens next could never have been imagined in his wildest dreams. The person he is asking is a visitor to his country, and is not yet impervious to little black kids begging. He takes pity on the child, and as a result, a whole set of events transpire, changing the lives of this boy, his family and friends, and even total strangers.

Want to know what happens? Click Here!

Still Raping and Pillaging ...

As a born and bred Englishman, I am sick, tired and ashamed when I hear of UK companies and organisations "ripping off" our erstwhile colonies. I am also ashamed when I read about UK companies being involved in graft and corruption in deals with other countries.

The latest, of course is the debacle over the De la Rue Currency and Security Print Ltd, where it is alleged that said company obtained the contract from the Kenyan Government to print their currency by fraudulent means.

At least the Serious Fraud Office is looking into it and I hope that, at the end of the day there will be a full and honest outcome, unlike the Saudi Arms deal, which was swept under the carpet by the British government.

When I was last in Kenya, it was also mooted that many international companies with subsidiaries in Kenya were avoiding paying tax on profits to the Kenyan Government by salting away the money to their respective head offices. I don't know if this is true, but if it is, Kenya must be losing billons of shillings every year in revenue - revenue that can hardly afford to lose, bearing in mind all those 4x4s and elevated salaries they have to pay as a price for political stability.

Kenyans, don't expect the British Government to step in. They are too interested in saving their own skins at the moment. Our Scottish Prime Minister and Chancellor are making sure they gain a few extra votes at the next election by pandering to the banks with bases in Scotland.

Yes, tribalism exists in the UK. Each looks after its own.

So, Kenyans, don't think you are alone!

They Do Not Represent the General View ...

This was the plaintiff cry this morning after first Siobhain McDonagh, then Joan Ryan, both junior minions within the Labour Party called for a look into the leadership of the party.

These two do not represent the general feeling of backbenchers was the cry. Oh, really?

Then why has George Howarth (Lab. Knowsley North) written to the party asking for a leadership election?

And in any case, it is not what backbenchers, front benchers, ministers, or good ol' Gordon thinks. It is what the electorate thinks. That's us, I do believe. And I am pretty sure that a majority would like a change of Prime Minister, if not a change of Government!

Come on Gordon (and your supporters), give in before you are forced to, as was Maggie. You really don't want to suffer any more indignity, do you?

Corruption in High Places

No, not Kenya, not even Africa, but in the great and good Europe!

For the 14th year running - yes, that is 14 years - the European Union has failed to manage to balance its books. They auditors have refused to sign off the accounts in 17 different areas.

This is a body that spends about £95bn per year (of which the UK contributes around £7 billion) and has a staff of around 170,000 people, but they cannot get its accounts to add up.

Now, maybe this is just government incompetence at its worst, or, as I suspect, it is due to total corruption of the system.

This is supposed to be Government, European Government - you know, that which we try to impose upon the rest of this world full of despots and commies.

Well, I reckon that we have taught the world well, by example.

Tony Sharp has the full story here

Who will do What about Which, to Whom?

An interesting report has been issued from the Kenya National Commission on Human Rights regarding who was responsible for the post election violence, naming names.

Names like Uhuru Kenyatta from President Mwai Kibaki’s Party of National Unity, Sally Kosgei, Henry Kosgey, William Ruto, Najib Balala and the late Kipkalya Kones from Prime Minister Raila Odinga’s Orange Democratic Movement (to mention but a few) are mentioned as "alleged perpetrators".

I am not going into the rights and wrongs of the actions of these people or the reasons for the PEV. Readers who are au fait with the post-election problems in Kenya can draw their own conclusions.

What interests me is that the state-funded KNCHR has produced this large report (159 pages, I believe) about the problems as a result of the Kenyan elections in December, alleging that MPs and other people in high places were involved. But, what is going to do be done with it?

Will evidence be collected to prove these allegations? And if so, will those who people in high places be prosecuted? Will they be at least be relieved of their posts?

I will watch with interest.

Kibaki -v- Githongo. Round II

OK, now maybe I can see why Kibaki snubbed Githongo. I thought it was because the whistle-blower was touching base a bit too close to home.

But I have read another blog criticising Githongo for washing Kenya's dirty linen in public, that is the BBC et al.

That's fair enough, but the problem is that "we" expect African governmnets, including the Kenyans, to be corrupt. Nothing that Githongo said could have surprised anyone over here.

But in a way, I envy Kenyans. Some of your legislators are corrupt. You are not surprised. You assume that, even if there is no proof, they are crooked.

We, in the "West", generally expect our politicians to be honest and aren't we disappointed when some sleaze or graft comes to light. We are outraged.

I am not sure which I would prefer. But I would still choose to live in Kenya rather than the UK, given the choice. At least you know where you stand in Kenya.

Kibaki snubs Githongo

I don't want to get bogged (or blogged) down in Kenyan politics, but I find it incredible that President Kibaki has refused to meet with Githongo, the whistle-blower on one of the major graft cases during Kibaki's first term.

If I were a Kenyan, I would be very suspicious. What has Kibaki got to hide? Why will he not meet that man he appointed to counter corruption in high places?

My Take on Kenya

There is no doubt. I love Kenya.

There are some places I like more than others, but that must be true of just about any country in the world - and of course, I don't know the whole country, only little bits of it: the Nairobi area, especially the business district and the eastern suburbs, Kisii and Malindi.

That's quite a spread, though, Coastal, to over 5,500ft, village to major town to rural town.

I find the Malindi area too hot and too humid. I don't really like it.

Nairobi and its suburbs are fascinating. But I am a country boy and I have an inbuilt dislike of big cities. The public transport system has deteriorated since I have been going to Nairobi. It used to be reasonably easy to get from my base in the east suburbs to the office in the business district on top of the hill. Now it is virtually impossible.

Kisii is what I would expect a large African town to be. Chaotic, dusty (when it is not raining) noisy, busy. I like Kisii.

And then there are the people. Naturally. top of the list is my love interest, beautiful, intelligent, well educated, living on the coast.

There is the man in Nairobi that started my Kenyan adventure. He is very very friendly, plausible and pleasant, but is always finding ways of borrowing money to "invest". I don't suppose I will ever see it again. He is always trying to impress, introducing me to Daktari This and Hon. That. His promises are big but never forthcoming.

And then there is the couple I met in Kisii, young, enthusiastic, well educated, friendly, caring, honest.

I like Kisii, and I have good friends there.

So I have set up business there, with a view to ecventually settling down near the town.

Why Aren't I there already? That's personal, but I have good reason to remain at my base in the UK - most of the time. I will travel to Kenya whenever I can. The only restraint is the money for the air fare. I have managed a couple of visits within the last year, and I am about due to go out there again, as soon as I have found the money for the ticket.

But one day, I will arrive and never leave.

Bedroom Menagerie

I am in bed, under the mosquito net, sleeping like a babe, when I wake up. Why? I hear a scurrying noise, that's why. I fumble around for my torch (there is no electricity in the house) and switch it on. I sweep the walls and there they are, the biggest bl00dy cockroaches I have ever seen in my life - three of them. They are big, about 4 cm long, mid brown, but slow-moving.

They scurry away from the beam of my torch and I draw a circle around them. They are confused now. They can't escape the light. I find that I can herd them with the torchlight.

Then I hear a crunch. I scour the walls with my light. In the corner, there is a small, pale lizard. Sticking out of its mouth there is the back end of another cockroach. It's legs are still wriggling slowly.

The lizard doesn't move. It just sits (or stands) there with its prize in its mouth. It is almost too small to each its catch, let alone catch the others with its meal still in its mouth.

The other cockroaches are trying to escape the hunter, but to do so, they have to go into the light of my torch, and they don't like that!

But soon (not soon enough for the cockroaches), I grow weary of my "game". You can only herd cockroaches with a torch for so long before it becomes tiresome.

I switch off the torch, and hear the free cockroaches marching across the wall, away from their predator.

A short while later, I switch my torch on and sweep the walls again. The menagerie has disappeared. I can hear no more crunching, or the scampering of tiny feet on the plaster.