Oh to be in Kenya ...

This is a view of my garden in southern England at 11:30 today (10 Jan 2009), where the temperature is -4°C.

OK, so it looks pretty. I am warm inside with the central heating blasting away.

At my second home, on the coast of the Indian Ocean in Kenya, it is 32°C - a bit too hot for me.

But in Kisii, my "business centre", it is a pleasant 25°C, as it is all year round, give or take a couple of degrees. I can live with that.

As I get older, I find that I am less tolerant of the cold. And let's face it, last year's summer in the UK was nothing to shout about.

It was especially nothing to shout about after spending all of March in Kenya and coming home to snow in April - lovely!

This second photo is looking out from my friend's plot over the valley, west of Kisii. Yes, the sky really is that blue, and the countryside is always green.

Different Strokes

Benta, one of the orphans at Twiga, insists on going to school every day. She has even tried to convince us that she was well enough when suffering from malaria.

She wears her little blue gingham dress, white knee socks and black shoes with pride. She spends ages polishing her shoes every morning and has to look spotless. Unfortunately, when she comes back home, her socks are never white, but stained red by the dust of the school yard.

One day, she was getting ready for school, but could not find clean socks. This was a total disaster for her. She could not got school in grubby socks, nor could she go without socks. She may be an OVC* living in an orphanage, but going to school without socks just was not an option!

Eventually, we had to let he wear clean but still damp socks to go to school. Luckily, it was a warm day, and they would soon be dry.

Benta is not alone.

Contrary to popular belief by those who don't have a clue, African children do not go around in grubby, smelly, ragged clothes (or Heaven forbid, naked) through choice**. Most have a "Sunday Best" set and are proud of them. They like to look smart, well dressed. But family circumstances are often such that kids cannot have smart new clothes.

-oOo-

My significant-other-half's little boy, Ian, will not go out in public without a top on. He lives in an area where the temperature never drops below 22°C and daytime temperatures are usually well above 30°C.

He will happily run around the house naked after his shower, but he will not go outside in just shorts. He insists on wearing a top, even if it is 60 sizes too big for him!

Mind you, he did choose my "army colour" T-shirt over all the other, more colourful ones. He wants to be a soldier when he grows up!

-oOo-

So, what am I trying to say?

Just because a kid is scruffy, it doesn't make him a little savage.

It just makes him poor by the standards of the civilised world.

But it also makes him rich, far richer than most kids in the developed world. An African kid does not need a computer, Wii, X-Box, iPod, etc., etc., to amuse himself. He has friends and they react with each other, they amuse each other.

Give the average UK/European/USA kid a new toothbrush. They won't even say thank you.

Give the same toothbrush to an average Kenyan kid, and watch the delight on his face. He has something new, something that belongs only to him.

Different strokes for different folks, I guess.

* OVC = orphaned or vulnerable child
**There are, of course, exceptions. In certain rural areas, kids never wear clothes

Why Kenya?

I have often been asked why I have such a love for Kenya, and I have to say that it was purely accidental. But then, anyone who visits Kenya will fall in love with the country - and the people.

I have always had an interest in sub-Saharan Africa, so when I was given the opportunity to work in South Africa in 1989, I jumped at it. After it was made obvious that I was no longer welcome there and I returned to the UK, I have always longed to return to "somewhere" in Africa.

Then, a few years ago, I was approached to tidy up, maintain and update the website for Rhino Ark, a conservation charity for the Aberdare Mountains in Kenya. This re-kindled my desire to return to Africa. This job did not offer the opportunity to do so, but at least I was doing something "African".

A little later, for reasons I cannot remember, I was contacted by the director of another Kenyan charity, ACIS, asking if I could provide free or cheap computers for schools in Kenya. I couldn't, but during email conversations, it was agreed that I would build a website for the organisation, of which I later became a director, hence my first visit to Kenya in September 2007.

Before my visit, I was contacted by another organisation, Mercy Gate Champion Children's Home, an orphanage in Kisii. Again, I agreed to build them a website.

I also took it upon myself to help to get ITNs (insecticide treated nets) which had supposedly been supplied by the Kenyan Government, free of charge to all children under five. I made contact with the WHO in Nairobi as well as other organisations set up to fight malaria.

Also, at about this time, I "met" my Kenyan girlfriend - but that for another blog at another time.

So, armed with information, appointments, etc, I set off for Kenya. I stayed for a while in Nairobi with my ACIS colleague, meeting the people at WHO etc, and making arrangements to visit the Mercy Gate home in Kisii.

But I really needed to get over to Malindi, where my girlfriend lives. I spent about two weeks there - again, another blog for another day.

Upon my return to Nairobi, we started to plan an overnight visit to Kisii. We drove there, an experience in itself as we went the long way there (not intentionally), via Nakuru, Kericho and Sotik. It took the best part of a day to get there, but it was worth it just to drive across the Great Rift Valley.

In Kisii, we were well received. I met most of the kids and dished out gifts that had been collected by the people in my village in the UK, and a couple of Frizbees, which were put to very good use!

We returned to Nairobi the following afternoon, by a quicker route, through Bomet and Narok, skirting the Maasai Mara, and after a few more days in Nairobi, I returned home to the UK, promising everyone (especially myself) that I would return as soon as possible.

My next visit was in March 2008, when my immediate love of Kenya was confirmed.

I am now a director of ACIS, and have formed a new NGO, KCIS, with the directors of Mercy Gate home. It has taken over the running of the Mercy Gate home, which was renamed Twiga Children's Home (Twiga is swahili for giraffe).

I also have two businesses in Kisii, an IT consultancy and an export business.

And now I am sitting in the middle of an English winter, just waiting for the opportunity to return once again.

So, that is "Why Kenya?"

Shifting target? Or just expanding?

I have been approached by a businessman in Cameroon to shift the malaria-control project to Cameroon. He reckons that he could find financial backing for the project, and that is tempting.

But I can't do that. My loyalty is with Kenya. Kenya is my love, my mistress. Kenya is my second home. So, when the project gets off the ground, it has to be in Kenya.

But, that is not to say that when it is established and I have proven to myself that we are on the right track, I will not expand to Cameroon [or Tanzania, Uganda, Malawi, Rwanda, Burundi ...]

I am a bi-lingual English/French speaker, so communication will not a problem in Cameroon, and I am not against helping Cameroonians (is that right?) or any other people, wherever they are, but they have to accept that Kenya takes priority.

Or am I looking at the problem with blinkers?

Another Year, Another Resolution

I don't really hold with New Year's Resolutions. I am of the opinion that it is daft, making up resolutions that will not be adhered to for more than a couple of days or weeks (if you are really good!).

But this year, I am going to make one or two.

Firstly,my glass will always be half-full, never half-empty.

Secondly, I am going to attack (if this is the right word) the projects I have set up through KCIS with renewed vigour - somehow.

The most important, at the moment, is to find some regular funding for the Kids' Home, which is finding it difficult to pay for the food required to keep 38 tummies full.

Then, River Cottage and Scrapheap will have to be tackled.

Then there is the malaria control project. I have started this, working in the UK, but sooner or later, I am going to have to get out to Kenya. I need a friendly doctor, bio-chemist or similar for advice on this one, just to clear up a few questions that are bugging me.

On another tack, I will be promoting a new (-ish) project, commercial this time. But the excess profit (profit? What's that?) will go into the KCIS coffers.

So, short of finding a benefactor with deep pockets, with a particular interest in Kenya, the commercial project is probably the only way we are going to get funding. KCIS is too small for most foundations and other charities to take any notice of us - but watch this space. We are going to grow. We are going to make a difference, maybe just a small one, but we will succeed.

So, for the first time in ages, I have made my resolutions!

Heri Za Mwaka Mpya

I wish a

Happy New Year

to all who follow my blogs, and to all who know me in Kenya and the UK

A Christmas message

It was Christmas morning and I was sitting in the lounge with my Mum, looking at the [small] pile of discarded Christmas wrapping paper when the mobile shrilled out "Jambo Bwana", the ring-tone signifying that the call was coming from Kenya.

"Mambo, vipi", I said, knowing that the caller was my friend, Vincent, in Kisii.

"Mambo, safi, David", came the familiar voice.

We exchanged greetings and then Benta asked to speak to me.

"Baba, when you come to see me?"

The lump in my throat grew and grew. I cannot answer that. I don't know. I was planning to go out at the beginning of January, but the economic crisis has hit my family hard and I have had to dig into the money I had put aside for the trip.

All I could say was, "Soon. I will come to see you soon."

I could sense the disappointment.

I could also hear Josephat in the background, wanting to speak to me, but this is impossible as he speaks no English.

This little conversation gave a bitter-sweet sense to the rest of the day. Of course, I want to be with my Mum for Christmas, but I yearn to see my girlfriend Liz and her kids, Benta and Josephat - all my friends in Kenya.

Oh well. I will just have to build up the pennies in the coffers again and hope that no more financial crises hit the family.

Benta, Jojo, I will see you both soon.

In the meantime, I raise a glass to absent friends.

Krismasi Njema

On this festive occasion, I would like to wish my reader a

Very Merry Christmas

How to demolish a bunch of bananas

My Natasha hands out bananas to her cousins from a bunch that she retains control of (just look at that serious expression).

The three little girls feast on the bunch.

You are supposed to take the skin off first!

Natasha's brother, Ian, manages to get one.

The whole bunch disappeared within a few minutes!

The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men gang aft a-gley.

... or something like that. Apologies to any Scots if I got it wrong.

But I may have to put off my trip to Kenya as my son has been made redundant and is expected to replace his £350 a week wages with £60 unemployment benefit.

So Dad has had to step in and "lend" him some cash - that which was put away for my trip to Kenya.

Oh well, this recession can't last forever ...

Leap of Faith

I will not be ordering anti-malaria tablets for my next trip to Kenya in January. Apart from the fact that one month's supply costs almost £30, which is a big slice out of my meagre budget, they have horrible side-effects that I can do without.

No, I will be placing my well-being fairly on the shoulders of a solution for which there have been claims that it can prevent malaria, and if the user is unfortunate enough to contract the disease, on increasing the dose, will cure within a couple of hours.

This may be a dangerous action to take, but, I need to know if this stuff really works, and if I want to see the results first-hand, who better to test it on than me - not exactly scientific, but it's the best I can do.

If this stuff really works, then I will have in my possession a product that will flush the disease out of a body at the cost of a couple of pennies. Presently, treatment for malaria in Kenya costs Ksh 2,000, or about £17 ($25 US).

We intend to set up an education programme, aimed at schools. The idea is to show kids how the mosquito breeds in standing water, then show them where this standing water may be, in old discarded tyres, buckets, tin cans, puddles.

They will be encouraged to try and eradicate these breeding grounds, thereby offering fewer places for mosquitoes to breed.

We may also try a leaflet campaign in the town, as long as we can get support from the municipal council (we don't want to be accused of littering or fly-posting).

Ugali - or how to eat without a fork

Ugali is a maize flour mix, similar to polenta without all the flavouring. It is the staple diet in Kenya, and indeed most of Africa, in different forms and with different names.
On my first visit to Kenya, I was staying in the home of an extended family, and as a consequence, there were a fair number of kids.
Mealtimes were fascinating, with all the kids lined up on the floor, each with a plate of sukuma and ugali. The kids, of course, all knew exactly how to use the ugali - pull a little off, mold it into a spoon, scoop up some sukuma and juice and eat it.

That doesn't look too difficult, I thought and gave it a go. The kids burst out laughing at my attempts. The adults tried not to laugh and I reverted to using a spoon for the rest of my stay. It saved on having to wash shirts!

It struck me as very interesting, how certain societies eat with their fingers. I had a friend visit us from Lucknow, India. He and his wife could eat just about anything with their fingers and not lose a drop. Kenyans are the same.

Communal meal for orphans

We in the "West" seem to have made life very difficult for ourselves by "inventing" cutlery. After all, what is the easiest way to eat a chicken drumstick? By picking it up and gnawing at it, of course. But no, we sit there attacking it with a knife and fork to get the flesh from the bone. Ridiculous!
I am not saying there isn't a place for using knives, forks and spoons, but why did we have to re-invent eating? If fingers will do, then use them!

Finger Trick

So there I was, sitting on my step outside my host's compound, watching the world go by.

I had shown Mwende, my host's elder daughter, a simple finger trick and she started to show all the other kids in the neighbourhood.

I was surprised at just how it caught on!

Mwende (in the yellow dress) demonstrating the trick

Jackson tries it when he thinks no one is watching

Timo gets it - almost ...

... and passes on his knowledge

Winston gives it a go.

Kids wandering down the road are trying it!

More Vaseline

My friends' daughter, Faith, after finding a pot of Vaseline!

I have touched on the use of Vaseline in Africa before, in the blog "The Colour of my Skin". Kids seem to love being greased.

But if you are a bit slow, they will set about it themselves. My friend's daughter, Faith, who is about 2 years old, decided that Mama and Baba were too slow and decided to Vaseline herself.

Now, Abigael, having four kids to look after, doesn't mess about with the little jars we get in England. Oh no, she has a 500ml pot. Faith found it. And she plastered herself.

We had to scrape it off her - the picture is after we had got the worst off her!

She was not happy.

-oOo-

When I was in South Africa in the late 80s, I fostered a few street kids. The first two, a pair of 12 year-olds loved the swimming pool, despite the fact that it was mid-winter.

When they dried off, they asked for Vaseline for their skin. I didn't have any, but I did have some Johnson's Baby Oil.

The first kid coated himself with the oil and was quite pleased with the result and was admiring himself in the mirror when the second child came into the room.

"What is this stuff?" he asked, turning his nose up. "You smell like a white kid!"

I wasn't sure how to take that.

Humbled

On my first visit to Kenya in September 2007, I planned to visit Kisii for a day or two to meet Vincent, Abigael and, of course, the children at the home.

I drove there with my associate, Muindi, and arrived late on Saturday evening, and after a wash and a meal, we were taken to the annexe to our host's house where five or six orphans were being housed.

When we entered, the room was in darkness. The light was switched on and before me was a bunch of kids sitting around a table, waiting for their supper. The smallest, who I later found out was Josephat, was sitting on a stool in the corner of the room. Upon seeing me, his eyes widened, his jaw dropped ... and he fell off his stool! I have never had that effect on anyone before, but Josephat was only just 4 years old and had never seen a mzungu.

Of course, the other kids laughed at him, but he didn't care. He soon composed himself and with a big smile, planted himself on my lap, where he stayed until I had to leave.

The following day, a Sunday, most of the kids met up at "the plot", all in their Sunday best. I had a bag of small presents donated by the people in my village, toothbrushes and pencils. I felt very awkward, giving out such mean, small presents.

But the kids were delighted. Just imagine giving a UK kid a toothbrush and one pencil as a present.

-oOo-

Jojo was the first to call me Baba Mzungu (Swahili for White Daddy) and before I left Kisii, he made me promise that I would return.

Of course, I did, the following March, and he was my shadow for the 10 days I spent in Kisii.

The only problem is language. Jojo speaks about two words of English and I speak not many more of Swahili. But it doesn't matter, we sort of understand each other.

And, whenever Jojo does try to speak English, he always precedes it with the word "English".

So, he might say, "Bab' Mzungu - English - Josephat good boy."

Chicken for Dinner

During my visit to Kenya in March of this year, I was called back from Coast, where I had been staying with my significant other and children. I had intended spending Easter there, but business called.

So, on the Thursday before Good Friday, I had to visit the offices of a client in Nairobi, after which I had little to do for the next week or so.

As no one in my hosts' household smoked, I took to sitting on their step outside their compound to partake in my filthy habit. This caused a lot of curiosity amongst the estate's children (and quite a few adults) as this neighbourhod is off the beaten track as far as either tourists or white Kenyans are concerned. In fact, for some of the smaller children, I was the first mzungu they had seen close up.

So, there I was, on the step, puffing away and keeping an eye on my hosts' two girls, who are not normally allowed to play outside, but as I was there to keep and eye on them ...

A chicken was foraging along the pavement, then running for her life as the local kids chased it. When the kids got fed up, she would go back to foraging - until she was in front of me. She cocked her head to one side as she regarded me. At this point a little boy decided to throw a stone at her and he was a pretty good shot. The chicken squawked and ran towards me.

To my surprise, she jumped up onto my step and roosted beside me, really pressed up against me like a puppy or kitten might. This amused the children and they all gathered round to see what the strange mzungu - or the chicken - would do.

I didn't know what to do, so I started to stroke her head, then her wings. Now, I don't particularly like birds. It's the feathers, I think. I like to look at them, I am fascinated when the starlings make wonderful patterns in the sky, but I do not like to touch them.

So, there I was, sitting on a step, stroking a chicken! And surrounded by the neighbourhood kids - lots of them, and the chicken was making cooing noises, which I took to be contentment, although she could have been telling the kids that chased her that she had won this particular round. I don't know. I don't speak chicken.

But my strategy worked. A little boy sat the other side of the chicken and started to stroke her gently. Then the other kids joined in, and the chicken seemed to be enjoying this unprecedented, non-violent attention.

That is until the kid from next door came out and said, "That's where you are. Sir, this is our dinner for tonight!"

Happily, the chicken did not speak English. But I bet she was one of the happier chickens to meet her maker.

More tea, sir?

As in Britain, or at least, England, when you make a social visit in Kenya, you will be offered a cup of tea. Now, the Kenyans are justly proud of their tea, most of which is grown in the western highlands around Kericho.

Which begs the question, why, when they can produce such wonderful tea, do they slaughter it in their preparation of it for drinking?

Tea is served from a Thermos, with a lot of milk and sugar already added. Now, I like tea with a dash of milk and a slight sprinkling of sugar, so I find that tea, as served to me in Kenya is a little too sweet and a little too milky.

In a café in Kisii, I ordered coffee while my two companions had tea. I was not surprised to see the waiter approach the table with a Thermos, but I was surprised when my coffee was served. I was given a pot of hot water, a cup and a tin of Nescafe - do it yourself coffee.

Now, this wasn't a greasy Joe café, this was THE place to be in Kisii!

OK, so I traversed the country to a small village on the coast, not far from Malindi, to spend some time with my to-be significant other and the children. As Sig. other was working, it was my job to get the kids ready for school and make sure they had breakfast before they left. This second was a bit of a trial as they were very keen to get to school (Kenyan kids love school - how refreshing!).

Ian (6 years) usually takes tea with his breakfast. Not thinking straight, I made it with a tea bag in the cup with the usual splash of milk.

"What is this? This is not tea!"

I apologised and offered to make him tea à la Kenyan.

No, Baba, I like this, but what is it?"

"It is English tea. Tea, the way we make it in England."

"I like English tea. You take me to England. Now!"

My Sig.Other also liked my version of tea, although I guess that she will have reverted to the Thermos method while I am not there.

I was not so lucky when I got to Nairobi. Since the PEV, my host's house was (over?) full and making special tea for the mzungu was a task too far.

I did, however persuade the little café next to the office to bring me a tea bag, a pot of hot water and a little milk - so refreshing.

Juggling Money

Although I am based for 9 to 10 months of the year in the UK (more's the pity), I still have "living expenses" in Kenya, not least of which is the rent for a little house on the coast, where I stay when in the area, and where my significant other half and her children live.

The rent is not excessive, but it means sending money from the UK to Kenya every month. I have found myself recently watching the UK pound against the Kenyan shilling on a daily basis to get a good rate. When I took on the rent at the beginning of the year, the rate was about 130 bob to the pound. Now I am lucky to get 115. So my rent has gone up £10 a month

It is quite something when the Kenyan economy is doing better than that of the UK!

Two nations separated by a common language ...

No, not the United States and Britain, but, the United States and Kenya.

Whilst Amy (see The colour of my skin, below) was staying in Kisii, she gathered some of our kids together and sang an alphabet song to them. Some of them knew it and joined in.

But when she came to the letter Z, she pronounced it "Zee" whereas the kids pronounced it as "Zed", as in British English. This surprised her and also spoiled the song as she was expecting to have to rhyme with Zee.

She mentioned this in an open letter to us. I didn't have the heart to tell her that Kenyans speak English, not American.