Where to begin? Thankfully, in some regards, this is a subject that doesn’t come up much in polite western conversations.
Heads of schools and colleges and many positions in the Ministries are political appointments and often do not reflect the individual’s experience or abilities to fill the position. The individuals will have qualifications a plenty, as these are highly prized, assiduously collected and valued over experience. This was the case at the large (remember 5,000 students plus!) primary school I visited some few weeks ago. The new “Dean” is in his 30’s, has little classroom teaching time, no prior administrative background and little personality to compensate for this lack of experience. By way of contrast, the primary school teacher who escorted us around, in addition to 30-plus years in the classroom, had the kind of presence and personality to captivate anyone regardless of profession or background.
At this point for those unfamiliar or familiar with the term are probably beginning to wonder what FGM is or has to do with primary education.
Before answering that question, out on something of a tangent, consider that 60% of health-related aid in Africa is channeled into a disease that is responsible for less than 5% of deaths. In this school there were no AIDS/HIV posters, at least visible ones. The posters around this campus are pointed, graphic (in that they required no captions or interpretation) and relevant to a large sector of the female student population – female genital mutilation or female circumcision and child brides. I am lost for words to describe the passion with which our guide talked about combating these practices. Now a grandmother, she recounted in detail her own experiences as a young girl. Needless to say it wasn’t easy to listen to and some of the women in particular visibly blanched.
In addition to ensuring that every girl at the school has been educated about the dangers and long-term effects, she regularly attempts to dissuade parents, most often mothers, from requiring their daughters be circumcised. She, along with other elder women in the community, have formed a vigilante-like band of grandmothers to stop the practice. The kinds of argument they run into are mothers complaining that their daughters are obsessed with sex and as a consequence don’t concentrate on their chores, breaking glasses and the like. It was inspiring to see such progressive and activist passion at work.
Very progressive, yes; yet not ready to accept that some children are born naturally left-handed!
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
The Addis Hilton!
Yes, the Addis Hilton was where we stayed the weekend of the Great Run! One of the single volunteers treated herself to a night there for her birthday a couple of months ago, after regaling everyone with how they should save Hilton points. That reminded me that I ought to have some! As it turned out I had more than enough to spend a weekend in the Hilton. The Sheraton is THE elite hotel in town, financed by an Ethiopian/Arabian Sheik! But the Hilton isn’t at all bad, particularly when one has access to the executive lounge.
The reason for this introduction is not to destroy your rightly held perception of the hard life of we volunteers in Ethiopia. OK so maybe it isn’t that bad. The real reason, however, is to introduce the individual we chatted with whilst enjoying the pleasures of the bar. Harold (opted not to use the name he introduced himself by) is a US government employee here on a multi-year contract to establish a military leadership college. As it turns out, the building for this college is directly across from our corner bar. Every day I have walked past the place oblivious to its function. Sure, I have noticed the military folks entering and exiting the building. And in fact, been very curious of the origin of a particularly small group of soldiers whose flag patch I had been unable to identify. Little wonder, it is the flag of the yet-to-be declared, assuming the referendum goes their way and the north acquiesces, new country of South Sudan.
This U.S. mission is to establish a local military establishment to provide senior officers with the equivalent of a US Army college degree. The Ethiopians support the fourth largest contingent of peacekeepers in the world and yet to date have not had one of their own placed in a position of command. They are often given a position of second in command to an officer from a much smaller country, who has little or no practical experience but who has the academic credentials. Following years of internal strife and involvements in neighboring countries the senior members of the Ethiopia army have no shortage of experience, but do lack academic credentials. Needless to say, they are not happy about this, and view the U.S. training program as a way to rectify the situation.
Their practical experience in some cases predates the current regime with some of the senior officers being former Derg (the regime forcibly ousted in 1991) officers. Ethiopian tribes have a long history of conflict. The “battles” were frequently resolved without loss of life but resulted in revolving alliances. Similarly when rebels (the current government) overthrew the Derg, though in that case involving substantial casualties, military staff willing to pledge allegiance to the new regime were absorbed into the new armed forces, often retaining their position and rank.
From Harold’s perspective, with his access to, and frequent opportunities to observe high government officials, he believes there is little corruption (as we tend to define it), especially in the military and police. Not to say that political cronyism isn’t rampant (already seen that with appointees in the Ministry of Education) although maybe less so in the military. He pointed out that the tallest building in Addis, which we could see from our vantage point, had lain empty for almost two years following a political falling out between the government and the owner – our “Sheraton-Sheik”! But with elections around the corner and his public support for the government assured, his certificate for occupancy has recently been approved.
The reason for this introduction is not to destroy your rightly held perception of the hard life of we volunteers in Ethiopia. OK so maybe it isn’t that bad. The real reason, however, is to introduce the individual we chatted with whilst enjoying the pleasures of the bar. Harold (opted not to use the name he introduced himself by) is a US government employee here on a multi-year contract to establish a military leadership college. As it turns out, the building for this college is directly across from our corner bar. Every day I have walked past the place oblivious to its function. Sure, I have noticed the military folks entering and exiting the building. And in fact, been very curious of the origin of a particularly small group of soldiers whose flag patch I had been unable to identify. Little wonder, it is the flag of the yet-to-be declared, assuming the referendum goes their way and the north acquiesces, new country of South Sudan.
This U.S. mission is to establish a local military establishment to provide senior officers with the equivalent of a US Army college degree. The Ethiopians support the fourth largest contingent of peacekeepers in the world and yet to date have not had one of their own placed in a position of command. They are often given a position of second in command to an officer from a much smaller country, who has little or no practical experience but who has the academic credentials. Following years of internal strife and involvements in neighboring countries the senior members of the Ethiopia army have no shortage of experience, but do lack academic credentials. Needless to say, they are not happy about this, and view the U.S. training program as a way to rectify the situation.
Their practical experience in some cases predates the current regime with some of the senior officers being former Derg (the regime forcibly ousted in 1991) officers. Ethiopian tribes have a long history of conflict. The “battles” were frequently resolved without loss of life but resulted in revolving alliances. Similarly when rebels (the current government) overthrew the Derg, though in that case involving substantial casualties, military staff willing to pledge allegiance to the new regime were absorbed into the new armed forces, often retaining their position and rank.
From Harold’s perspective, with his access to, and frequent opportunities to observe high government officials, he believes there is little corruption (as we tend to define it), especially in the military and police. Not to say that political cronyism isn’t rampant (already seen that with appointees in the Ministry of Education) although maybe less so in the military. He pointed out that the tallest building in Addis, which we could see from our vantage point, had lain empty for almost two years following a political falling out between the government and the owner – our “Sheraton-Sheik”! But with elections around the corner and his public support for the government assured, his certificate for occupancy has recently been approved.
Two World Record holders in as many weeks
A couple of weeks ago sitting outside a hotel in Awassa (south of Addis on the shores of an attractive lake) having lunch with another volunteer and our driver, the conversation turned to the Great Ethiopian Run. Kay, an avid follower of athletics, was waxing lyrical about how she would at long last - albeit at a distance - see the official starter, Haile Gebreselassie. No sooner had she finished than a party of locals walked into the restaurant, followed by a noticeable buzz amongst the local diners. That was Haile. After Kay had picked herself up, our driver, Deraje, asked if we would like to meet him??!! Sure enough after we, and they, had finished eating, Deraje inquired if Haile would have time to meet us. Sufficient to say that Haile’s reputation as a gracious and unassuming individual is well earned! He may not be a household name in the States, but here in this long-distance-running-mad country he is citizen-uno. At 35, he broke the world marathon record again last year, and in his time has broken 26 world records and won numerous Olympic and World Championship titles.
Now, fast forward to the day of the Great Run (more of that in …..) and who should we meet in the elevator at the Hilton but Paula Radcliffe - the women's world marathon record holder! No, she is not Ethiopian or Kenyan, but a Brit! A few people recognized her but probably no more nor less than would probably have done so in England.
The Great Ethiopian Run is a 10K (6 mile) event through downtown Addis. This is a serious event with sizable prize money for the “elite” runners. For the remaining 35,000 people, the race is part jog, part walk, and part contact sport, as the crowding allows. Everyone wears the official green t-shirts, so in both directions there is a sea of green. People were chanting, laughing, doing their thing. In some cases “their thing” was to shout derisory comments and hold minor impromptu demonstrations as they passed certain government institutions. The Federal Police Headquarters came in for particular attention. Almost perversely the route managed to pass their headquarters both coming and going, and the intervening run did nothing to mute the crowd’s desire for catcalls and demonstrations, much to the obvious annoyance of the guards touting their AK47s. Apparently, provided the demonstrators are official participants and stay within the confines of the course, they are immune from prosecution! A victory for 1st Amendment rights in Addis. All in all a fun event, though both Anne and I woke the following morning with stiff legs.
Now, fast forward to the day of the Great Run (more of that in …..) and who should we meet in the elevator at the Hilton but Paula Radcliffe - the women's world marathon record holder! No, she is not Ethiopian or Kenyan, but a Brit! A few people recognized her but probably no more nor less than would probably have done so in England.
The Great Ethiopian Run is a 10K (6 mile) event through downtown Addis. This is a serious event with sizable prize money for the “elite” runners. For the remaining 35,000 people, the race is part jog, part walk, and part contact sport, as the crowding allows. Everyone wears the official green t-shirts, so in both directions there is a sea of green. People were chanting, laughing, doing their thing. In some cases “their thing” was to shout derisory comments and hold minor impromptu demonstrations as they passed certain government institutions. The Federal Police Headquarters came in for particular attention. Almost perversely the route managed to pass their headquarters both coming and going, and the intervening run did nothing to mute the crowd’s desire for catcalls and demonstrations, much to the obvious annoyance of the guards touting their AK47s. Apparently, provided the demonstrators are official participants and stay within the confines of the course, they are immune from prosecution! A victory for 1st Amendment rights in Addis. All in all a fun event, though both Anne and I woke the following morning with stiff legs.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
Ethiopian Primary School
Today I had the pleasure of visiting one of Ethiopia’s large public primary schools and it’s first teacher training college. Well, to be honest I started this piece some weeks ago now. During that time I have not visited any other school or college, but can claim to have gained many insights into the educational system in Ethiopia.
The school, on the periphery of Addis, is touted as the largest primary school in Africa. The facility is certainly not large. The enrolment though is well in excess of 5,000 during the day with another 3,000 attending in the evening. Yes, this is a primary school – grades 1 thru 8. Average class size is in excess of sixty students. Classrooms range from a relatively new four-story facility to dilapidated cinder block buildings, the exterior walls of which are decorated with geometric formula, such as the volume of a cone and the periodic table!
This particular school serves as a resource center for a school cluster. The limited teaching aids, library, arts and science facilities are located at a central school to maximize their availability to other schools in the cluster. We are not talking about masses of sophisticated laboratory equipment or art room setup here. Many families in the US with a couple of teenagers have probably acquired and stored in the attic or garage the kind of material in this resource center. Even so the existence and amount of material was obviously a point of pride for the individual responsible for maintaining the center. Unfortunately too much of the material remained in the center, with little evidence of it being actively used in the classrooms.
The classrooms fit the standard image associated with developing country educational systems; small rooms crammed with benches and small tables, children sitting shoulder to shoulder, a worn-out blackboard, broken windows and dark blank walls – the colorful maps in the resource center are too valuable to hang here! But then, when a source of income for the school is to be had from harvesting, by hand, foot-high grass to be sold in the local market, it puts a different perspective on the value of wall maps etc. That said the children remain extremely well behaved and apparently eager to learn – imagine a class of sixty 7-8 year olds remaining in their seats, OK making some noise but not outrageously loud, whilst the teacher is off who knew where. Enter Vern.
Vern is a retired University Dean from Australia, currently working in Mizan western Ethiopia (unless you have a really good map don’t bother looking for it). Mizan is home to one of the new universities. It has been open for two years, none of the buildings are complete, the library roof leaks (although this is not the disaster one might imagine as it only has 105 books) (I trust Vern’s counting). Back to the school. Vern couldn’t resist walking into the classroom, raising a finger to his lips in the international sign to be quiet. At this point the whole class sat obediently quiet followed by five minutes of teacher-pupil exchanges in third grade English. Magic. Then it was onto the teacher training college.
The techniques displayed at the teacher training college were interesting, in a positive way, and held particular significance for the other twenty or so education volunteers in the party - this trip being organized as part of the in-country training for the new batch of volunteers. VSO has been operating in the Teacher Education Institutes assisting in establishing a Higher Diploma Program aimed at improving the approaches to teaching both used by, and taught by the teacher educators. Here everyone that stands (or sits) at the front of a classroom/lecture hall is termed a “teacher”. Many of the techniques we take for granted however require resources that are not readily available, posing additional problems to their adoption. For example, when a classroom is filled to overflowing on tightly packed benches there is little space to organize group activities. Nonetheless the young instructors and teachers demonstrated a level of dedication, imagination and flexibility that can only be admired.
There is much more, but that is for another day.
The school, on the periphery of Addis, is touted as the largest primary school in Africa. The facility is certainly not large. The enrolment though is well in excess of 5,000 during the day with another 3,000 attending in the evening. Yes, this is a primary school – grades 1 thru 8. Average class size is in excess of sixty students. Classrooms range from a relatively new four-story facility to dilapidated cinder block buildings, the exterior walls of which are decorated with geometric formula, such as the volume of a cone and the periodic table!
This particular school serves as a resource center for a school cluster. The limited teaching aids, library, arts and science facilities are located at a central school to maximize their availability to other schools in the cluster. We are not talking about masses of sophisticated laboratory equipment or art room setup here. Many families in the US with a couple of teenagers have probably acquired and stored in the attic or garage the kind of material in this resource center. Even so the existence and amount of material was obviously a point of pride for the individual responsible for maintaining the center. Unfortunately too much of the material remained in the center, with little evidence of it being actively used in the classrooms.
The classrooms fit the standard image associated with developing country educational systems; small rooms crammed with benches and small tables, children sitting shoulder to shoulder, a worn-out blackboard, broken windows and dark blank walls – the colorful maps in the resource center are too valuable to hang here! But then, when a source of income for the school is to be had from harvesting, by hand, foot-high grass to be sold in the local market, it puts a different perspective on the value of wall maps etc. That said the children remain extremely well behaved and apparently eager to learn – imagine a class of sixty 7-8 year olds remaining in their seats, OK making some noise but not outrageously loud, whilst the teacher is off who knew where. Enter Vern.
Vern is a retired University Dean from Australia, currently working in Mizan western Ethiopia (unless you have a really good map don’t bother looking for it). Mizan is home to one of the new universities. It has been open for two years, none of the buildings are complete, the library roof leaks (although this is not the disaster one might imagine as it only has 105 books) (I trust Vern’s counting). Back to the school. Vern couldn’t resist walking into the classroom, raising a finger to his lips in the international sign to be quiet. At this point the whole class sat obediently quiet followed by five minutes of teacher-pupil exchanges in third grade English. Magic. Then it was onto the teacher training college.
The techniques displayed at the teacher training college were interesting, in a positive way, and held particular significance for the other twenty or so education volunteers in the party - this trip being organized as part of the in-country training for the new batch of volunteers. VSO has been operating in the Teacher Education Institutes assisting in establishing a Higher Diploma Program aimed at improving the approaches to teaching both used by, and taught by the teacher educators. Here everyone that stands (or sits) at the front of a classroom/lecture hall is termed a “teacher”. Many of the techniques we take for granted however require resources that are not readily available, posing additional problems to their adoption. For example, when a classroom is filled to overflowing on tightly packed benches there is little space to organize group activities. Nonetheless the young instructors and teachers demonstrated a level of dedication, imagination and flexibility that can only be admired.
There is much more, but that is for another day.
Monday, September 14, 2009
New Years' Day
You all know it as 9/11. Here it is the first of September or 1/1/2002. Everywhere preparations for the holiday have been growing: Goats, sheep and cattle are being herded to strategic points along the major roads along with the inevitable basket-loads of chickens, street vendors are selling new year cards along with plastic flowers. This year the said livestock and birds “enjoy” a one-day reprieve. Today is Friday. Those of you who have been paying attention will already know this to be one of the fasting days. The only day to trump the fasting day is Epiphany; hence the preparations are still in full swing for the feast tomorrow.
As if to signal the start of the new year it was a pleasant sunny day with one very light sprinkle, just the day for a walk into one of the hills that almost surround Addis. From a viewpoint overlooking my current abode the city looked every bit as sprawling and ill defined as it feels travelling around.
Saturday
Given the piles of goat/sheep skins around in the market this morning few escaped the early morning carnage. But then I would be hypocritical to condemn this slaughter having just enjoyed both sheep and chicken dishes, along with homemade tej, with my landlord’s family.
Edited and posted by Elspeth, who is still a vegetarian.
As if to signal the start of the new year it was a pleasant sunny day with one very light sprinkle, just the day for a walk into one of the hills that almost surround Addis. From a viewpoint overlooking my current abode the city looked every bit as sprawling and ill defined as it feels travelling around.
Saturday
Given the piles of goat/sheep skins around in the market this morning few escaped the early morning carnage. But then I would be hypocritical to condemn this slaughter having just enjoyed both sheep and chicken dishes, along with homemade tej, with my landlord’s family.
Edited and posted by Elspeth, who is still a vegetarian.
There's a Bathroom on the Right
No prizes for guessing the origin of the above regularly corrupted line. It does, however, aptly describe the behavior of the male population around here. Having become somewhat inured of the minimal privacy offered by the average French urinal I didn’t expect to be taken aback by other community facilities. Most of the streets here have gullies running alongside them, some are no more than ditches others are small stone waterways— indispensible anytime it rains. They also double as urinals. No matter the place or who is around one can often see grown men – “Pissing in the Stream”(1)
(1) Elton John – Honky Cat
Posted by Elspeth
(1) Elton John – Honky Cat
Posted by Elspeth
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Ethiopia GEQIP
Excerpt from a World Bank (Ethiopia: General Education Quality Improvement
Program (GEQIP) report of November 7, 2008:
Ethiopia is the second most populous country in Africa (estimated around 80 million, of which approximately 12 million are pastoralists and 80 percent of the population live in rural areas), and has a decentralized government structure. Having invested heavily in physical infrastructure and human resources over the past decade, the economy has achieved impressive growth (averaging 11.8 percent annually in the period of 2004-07). Despite recent growth and an abundance of natural resources, it is one of the poorest countries in the world with per capita income of less than US$180 in 2007 and 39 percent of the population estimated to live below the poverty line in 2004/05.1 Ethiopia is ranked 169 out of 177 countries on the United Nations Development Program’s Human Development Index. Under the highly centralized Derg regime (1975 to 1991), Ethiopia’s regional and woreda governments were marginalized. After the fall of the Derg, GOE adopted decentralization as the cornerstone for building a multi-ethnic democratic country. Combined with a commitment to fiscal decentralization, this signifies the Government’s intention to give local governments more direct and transparent control over public spending.
Posted, unedited, by Elspeth who is in graduate school and has read way too many articles like this lately.
Program (GEQIP) report of November 7, 2008:
Ethiopia is the second most populous country in Africa (estimated around 80 million, of which approximately 12 million are pastoralists and 80 percent of the population live in rural areas), and has a decentralized government structure. Having invested heavily in physical infrastructure and human resources over the past decade, the economy has achieved impressive growth (averaging 11.8 percent annually in the period of 2004-07). Despite recent growth and an abundance of natural resources, it is one of the poorest countries in the world with per capita income of less than US$180 in 2007 and 39 percent of the population estimated to live below the poverty line in 2004/05.1 Ethiopia is ranked 169 out of 177 countries on the United Nations Development Program’s Human Development Index. Under the highly centralized Derg regime (1975 to 1991), Ethiopia’s regional and woreda governments were marginalized. After the fall of the Derg, GOE adopted decentralization as the cornerstone for building a multi-ethnic democratic country. Combined with a commitment to fiscal decentralization, this signifies the Government’s intention to give local governments more direct and transparent control over public spending.
Posted, unedited, by Elspeth who is in graduate school and has read way too many articles like this lately.
Navigating Addis
The Lonely Planet describes Addis as “massive and incoherent” going on to liken it to a sprawling 250-sq-km injera. Injera— the ethnic bread on which most dishes are served— with its pockmarked surface, certainly does provide an excellent metaphor for the state of many roads. At the same time, there are significant road improvement projects, courtesy of the Chinese. This causes its own problems, as most drivers feel liberated to travel at totally inappropriate speeds given their driving skills and the state of the vehicles.
Gender equality, or lack thereof, is a significant issue in many walks of life here. That said there do seem to be a surprising number of women drivers. Relax, this is no segue to the usual comments about women drivers; to the contrary they do generally exhibit more tolerance toward other road users. Neither group demonstrates much patience, and as many roads don’t have serviceable pedestrian pathways the major “road users” are pedestrians; the mix puts Ethiopia at the top of the road casualty table, at least in Africa.
The city transportation system is equally as complex as the city itself: The few remaining decrepit government buses, which run along a limited number of traditional routes display numbers, but no destination indicators, and have no defined bus stops. The private buses display no information of any kind relying instead on the ticket collectors calls. Then there are the “line taxis” aka matatus. Again the only way to determine the destination is to interpret the auctioneer-like calls of the fare collector. There are “contract taxis” or “Lada-taxis” (for the obvious reason) aka regular taxis are everywhere! All “taxis” for some unknown reason are painted dark blue with white roofs. Most taxis are communist era Ladas with a very occasional pre-communist Peugeot; line taxis are almost exclusively Toyotas as are the vast majority of other cars and trucks.
Edited and posted by Elspeth, who LOVES Ladas.
What's in a name?
The work week begins with the standard staff meeting. In the main it is filled with the usual office minutia: confirming the emergency duty officer for the week, discussing trips scheduled, upcoming meetings etc. Nonetheless, it is brief and to the point. One agenda item followed closely by all, however, is the weekly “security/political briefing”. These run the gamut from tribal cattle rustling and resultant unrest, to fighting following border incursions. The weeks since my arrival have seen “increased incidents of Acute Watery Diarrhea (AWD)” with steadily increasing confirmed deaths. The difference between AWD and cholera? Politics.
For similar reasons it is “resettlement” and not ethnic cleansing. Hence the report was that some 10,000 Amharans are being “evacuated” from the Southern Nation and Nationalist’s Peoples Region (SNNPR) and are being resettled in Amhara. Ethiopia is divided into eleven autonomous regions, each with a president and a parliament. The Amharans had been resettled in the region now designated as the SNNPR during the previous regimes. With over 50 different languages spoken in the SNNPR (over 80 in the countrywide) the region could hardly be considered ethnically united. Haille Selassie, an Amharan, imposed Amharic as the national language. The leaders of the communist regime that deposed him, also Amharans, engaged in a wholesale resettlement program. The only surprise is probably that it didn’t happen earlier.
“Declaring a famine is a political decision. While it can galvanize public opinion and bring millions into aid programs, it is widely seen as a political failure. President George Bush challenged his officials to avoid the word, a policy known as "No famine on my watch". Ethiopia's Disaster Prevention and Preparedness Commission is charged with preventing famines of the 1984-85 type, the sort that bring down governments, argued Tufts University academics Sue Lautze and Angela Raven-Roberts in a 2004 paper. Dismissing the warning signals, Ethiopia's Prime Minister, Meles Zenawi, said earlier this month that there was no danger of famine this year. And Berhanu Kebede, Ethiopia's ambassador to Britain, said at the weekend: ‘We are addressing the problem. Food is in the pipeline.’”
The above piece is excerpted from an article in the UK newspaper The Independent, which can be found here.
Edited and posted by Elspeth, whose father needs to learn to use quotation marks (inverted commas, whatever) better, and to leaven his stories of death and disease with chicken sightings.
For similar reasons it is “resettlement” and not ethnic cleansing. Hence the report was that some 10,000 Amharans are being “evacuated” from the Southern Nation and Nationalist’s Peoples Region (SNNPR) and are being resettled in Amhara. Ethiopia is divided into eleven autonomous regions, each with a president and a parliament. The Amharans had been resettled in the region now designated as the SNNPR during the previous regimes. With over 50 different languages spoken in the SNNPR (over 80 in the countrywide) the region could hardly be considered ethnically united. Haille Selassie, an Amharan, imposed Amharic as the national language. The leaders of the communist regime that deposed him, also Amharans, engaged in a wholesale resettlement program. The only surprise is probably that it didn’t happen earlier.
“Declaring a famine is a political decision. While it can galvanize public opinion and bring millions into aid programs, it is widely seen as a political failure. President George Bush challenged his officials to avoid the word, a policy known as "No famine on my watch". Ethiopia's Disaster Prevention and Preparedness Commission is charged with preventing famines of the 1984-85 type, the sort that bring down governments, argued Tufts University academics Sue Lautze and Angela Raven-Roberts in a 2004 paper. Dismissing the warning signals, Ethiopia's Prime Minister, Meles Zenawi, said earlier this month that there was no danger of famine this year. And Berhanu Kebede, Ethiopia's ambassador to Britain, said at the weekend: ‘We are addressing the problem. Food is in the pipeline.’”
The above piece is excerpted from an article in the UK newspaper The Independent, which can be found here.
Edited and posted by Elspeth, whose father needs to learn to use quotation marks (inverted commas, whatever) better, and to leaven his stories of death and disease with chicken sightings.
Feast or Fasting?
Fasting appears to be an Ethiopian Orthodox congregant’s lot in life. There are a total of six periods of fasting, in addition to every Wednesday and Friday. Fasting takes the form of abstaining from eating meat, fish or dairy. One result is that restaurants serve excellent vegetarian dishes. Conversely, on the feast days the menus are a veritable carnivore’s delight. This weekend celebrated the end of one of the two-week fasts. The reason for the fast/festival is obscure enough that no one I asked could explain its origin. This weekend also saw college graduation ceremonies; evidence the number of parties in the restaurant wearing graduation gowns.
I know it will surprise some to learn that since arriving, my diet has been wholly vegetarian. Not that I am complaining. That, however, was fully rectified on Sunday with a helping of kitfo, a form of Ethiopian-style steak tartare – delicious! Washed down with a generous, albeit the smallest they serve, glass of tej honey wine. A brewed concoction bright yellow in color and slightly syrupy in consistency with a slightly earthy taste and higher-than-average alcohol content, honey wine completes the traditional feast.
Elspeth, who is a vegetarian, edited and approved of this post.
I know it will surprise some to learn that since arriving, my diet has been wholly vegetarian. Not that I am complaining. That, however, was fully rectified on Sunday with a helping of kitfo, a form of Ethiopian-style steak tartare – delicious! Washed down with a generous, albeit the smallest they serve, glass of tej honey wine. A brewed concoction bright yellow in color and slightly syrupy in consistency with a slightly earthy taste and higher-than-average alcohol content, honey wine completes the traditional feast.
Elspeth, who is a vegetarian, edited and approved of this post.
Michael Jackson?
14th AugustToday is our day to observe the blackout. The timing and allotment of power has shown some flexibility in the past few days, particularly when matters of national pride are involved. National pride in Ethiopia can be summed up in two words – distance running.
The one sporting event to challenge the supremacy of Manchester United or Arsenal (yes Arsenal) in TV audience ratings is any major athletic event featuring Ethiopian runners. No surprise then that electricity might be available for everyone to be able to see the 10k event at the athletics world championship last weekend. This, especially following a TV announcer’s observations during the last world championships, following a rout by the Ethiopians, that it was a pity that half of the country was unable to witness the event due to the lack of electricity. The federal government and the power company apparently took that to heart over the weekend. And, yes Ethiopia did prevail in the men’s 10k. It will be interesting to see if there is sufficient capacity when the marathons are contested this weekend. But, back to Michael Jackson.
One of the few establishments in the immediate neighborhood with electricity, courtesy of it’s own generator, is the local bar. Nothing grand here but with light, cold beer, edible samosas and satellite TV it is quite a draw, especially as it is dark by seven. Away from any form of artificial light, on a moonless evening it is dark. Thankfully I remembered to take a flashlight. My bobbing light signaled my approach to a bunch of kids halfway along the road/track, and had them serenading me the remainder of the way home. The song and dance routine, accompanied by beating time on a concrete slab with long sticks, was continued outside the gate; a performance somewhere between raucous Christmas caroling and trick-or-treat. Obviously I had no idea what they were singing about, with the exception of a regular reference to Michael Jackson – go figure. All in all, the performance was well worth the 40 cents they were delighted acquire. They slowly disappeared into the almost total darkness singing and dancing some tribute to Michael Jackson.
Predictably the occasion for the outburst of singing had nothing to do with the recent demise of said pop singer but was related to a religious event having something to do with a saint and a mountain. The connection between the two and the singing was not clear, but then try explaining Halloween aka All Hallows Eve to someone unfamiliar with the ritual.
”Today” is now almost three weeks ago. Since when the internet has either just not been available or so unreliable as to make a blog entry impossible, meaning Elspeth had to post this for me, blame editing mistakes on her.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
“Woke last night to the sound of thunder”
August 13, 2009
The electricity supply in Addis is very reliable. In this sector of the city we reliably have electricity on odd numbered days and reliably none on even numbered days. Today is our day. Combined with the sound of thunder and heavy rain outside I have returned to bed huddled under a blanket and enjoying a cup of hot tea. Yesterday was the first day we didn’t see any rain; hopefully we are not destined to make up for it today. Already there are hopeful signs the rain is abating and will be dry soon. Ethiopia’s claim is the country with “13 months of sunshine”.
This is wintertime, so some rain and clouds should be expected, and yes we have seen a reasonable amount of sunshine. One would not suffer vitamin D deficiency in this climate. But 13 months? Yes. Officially Ethiopia still observes the Julian calendar. New Years Day is coming up in a little less than a month – September 11th. Prior to which we will have the 13th month of just five days, then celebrate the start of 2002. As if that is not enough to get ones head around, days here start at daybreak. What’s so unusual about that you might ask, except that we have grown up accepting that days start at midnight. Ask someone for the time here and be prepared to add six.
The storm has already passed, the sun is trying to make an appearance, the many birds are back in full song and my tea is finished. It must be time for a warm shower!
August 14, 2009
Yesterday was a pleasantly warm day with no more rain. That is until very early this morning (or very late last night on Ethiopian time) when the heavens opened. Not sure whether it was the flashes of light or the sound like someone dumping a load of gravel on the roof that woke me up. For 15-20 minutes we were treated to quite a storm. Again early morning the birds are back to singing.
Later the same morning
Little wonder it sounded like gravel being dumped on the roof. The streets are littered with piles of pea-gravel sized hail!
The electricity supply in Addis is very reliable. In this sector of the city we reliably have electricity on odd numbered days and reliably none on even numbered days. Today is our day. Combined with the sound of thunder and heavy rain outside I have returned to bed huddled under a blanket and enjoying a cup of hot tea. Yesterday was the first day we didn’t see any rain; hopefully we are not destined to make up for it today. Already there are hopeful signs the rain is abating and will be dry soon. Ethiopia’s claim is the country with “13 months of sunshine”.
This is wintertime, so some rain and clouds should be expected, and yes we have seen a reasonable amount of sunshine. One would not suffer vitamin D deficiency in this climate. But 13 months? Yes. Officially Ethiopia still observes the Julian calendar. New Years Day is coming up in a little less than a month – September 11th. Prior to which we will have the 13th month of just five days, then celebrate the start of 2002. As if that is not enough to get ones head around, days here start at daybreak. What’s so unusual about that you might ask, except that we have grown up accepting that days start at midnight. Ask someone for the time here and be prepared to add six.
The storm has already passed, the sun is trying to make an appearance, the many birds are back in full song and my tea is finished. It must be time for a warm shower!
August 14, 2009
Yesterday was a pleasantly warm day with no more rain. That is until very early this morning (or very late last night on Ethiopian time) when the heavens opened. Not sure whether it was the flashes of light or the sound like someone dumping a load of gravel on the roof that woke me up. For 15-20 minutes we were treated to quite a storm. Again early morning the birds are back to singing.
Later the same morning
Little wonder it sounded like gravel being dumped on the roof. The streets are littered with piles of pea-gravel sized hail!
Now it is real or “And now for something completely different”
For the past couple of weeks I have been preparing to head for Ethiopia. Only now, somewhere over Africa between Amman and Addis at goodness knows what time (Seattle or local doesn’t matter) the “what am I doing” here point of reality once again is sinking in. Since returning from Nairobi every minute seems to have been consumed with all manner of business related to the rentals. Goodness knows what would have happened had we remained in Kilifi. The yard at the Queen Anne Hill house would have grown wild for yet another year for starters. It is amazing how much greenery, basically left to it’s own devises, grows in the span of 3-4 years! Five truck loads of greenery “recycled” and two loads of bark spread around, the place looks much smarter. A new coat of paint outside also helps. So, now the chance to think what next?
In the immortal words of Mont Python – “Now for something completely different”: The climate in Addis, being even higher in elevation than Nairobi, will be temperate, far different from the steamy coast of Kenya. Ethiopian culture, history, politics and tribal characteristics etc. will all be a new experience. Arriving in Addis will feel distinctly different from the experience of arriving in Nairobi. Nairobi was more akin to going home. As I was being driven from the Nairobi airport to the hotel the driver was pointing out the various places of interest – few had changed. “This is State House Road, home of the President” – yes but the more interesting landmark for me is the apartment building we just passed where I lived for a year in the mid-70s. Now I have no idea what to expect. Still with VSO, but working out in the Ethiopian VSO office, I will get to see the operation from the other side. To satisfy the requirements of a large Canadian grant supporting activities in 15 countries CUSO-VSO (the Canadian affiliate) is instituting a more standardized methodology for the monitoring and evaluation of the programs it will support. Delloite and Touche are providing the majority of volunteers to assist the country sites. Ethiopia is amongst a few countries they declined to send their employees.
Oopps, we are presumably approaching the monsoon effects the pilot eluded to earlier. More later….
In the immortal words of Mont Python – “Now for something completely different”: The climate in Addis, being even higher in elevation than Nairobi, will be temperate, far different from the steamy coast of Kenya. Ethiopian culture, history, politics and tribal characteristics etc. will all be a new experience. Arriving in Addis will feel distinctly different from the experience of arriving in Nairobi. Nairobi was more akin to going home. As I was being driven from the Nairobi airport to the hotel the driver was pointing out the various places of interest – few had changed. “This is State House Road, home of the President” – yes but the more interesting landmark for me is the apartment building we just passed where I lived for a year in the mid-70s. Now I have no idea what to expect. Still with VSO, but working out in the Ethiopian VSO office, I will get to see the operation from the other side. To satisfy the requirements of a large Canadian grant supporting activities in 15 countries CUSO-VSO (the Canadian affiliate) is instituting a more standardized methodology for the monitoring and evaluation of the programs it will support. Delloite and Touche are providing the majority of volunteers to assist the country sites. Ethiopia is amongst a few countries they declined to send their employees.
Oopps, we are presumably approaching the monsoon effects the pilot eluded to earlier. More later….
Random Thoughts on Leaving Kenya
The following are a collection of random thoughts I jotted down whilst sitting in Nairobi.
Why are there more expatriates working in Kenya now than in 1975 (at the time of the troubles the UN alone drew up evacuation plans for almost 10,000)?
Why do hundreds (literally) of government officials have to drive high-end turbo Mercedes saloons?
Why do the hundreds (if not thousands) of NGOs drive brand new expensive four-wheel drive vehicles – to drive around the city?
How do thousands of Kenyans acquire enough money to afford cars that cost more than 60% of the populace will earn in a lifetime?
And, why have those with the fancy cars allowed the transportation infrastructure to erode (in some places virtually disappear) such that any journey takes at least twice as long as in the mid-70s?
What happened to mandatory free primary education with almost 100% enrollment, were now only those that can afford the school fees send their children to school?
Why is there consistent pessimism that come 2012 (next elections) there will be a repeat of the troubles following the last election?
Why does the electricity go out so regularly in a city with so much visible wealth parading the city streets?
Why when Swahili is the country’s official language, are parliament proceedings again conducted in English?
Reflecting on these random thoughts the differences to Ethiopia are already striking.
Why are there more expatriates working in Kenya now than in 1975 (at the time of the troubles the UN alone drew up evacuation plans for almost 10,000)?
Why do hundreds (literally) of government officials have to drive high-end turbo Mercedes saloons?
Why do the hundreds (if not thousands) of NGOs drive brand new expensive four-wheel drive vehicles – to drive around the city?
How do thousands of Kenyans acquire enough money to afford cars that cost more than 60% of the populace will earn in a lifetime?
And, why have those with the fancy cars allowed the transportation infrastructure to erode (in some places virtually disappear) such that any journey takes at least twice as long as in the mid-70s?
What happened to mandatory free primary education with almost 100% enrollment, were now only those that can afford the school fees send their children to school?
Why is there consistent pessimism that come 2012 (next elections) there will be a repeat of the troubles following the last election?
Why does the electricity go out so regularly in a city with so much visible wealth parading the city streets?
Why when Swahili is the country’s official language, are parliament proceedings again conducted in English?
Reflecting on these random thoughts the differences to Ethiopia are already striking.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Where to Begin?
Sitting in the luxury of the BA lounge in Heathrow, more than just a continent away from where I spent time during the last two days. The place in question is Mathare, the site of one of the Nairobi slums. As Mohammed, the director of Mama Fatuma’s, led me toward Mathare our path was half blocked by the neighborhood garbage dump complete with various animal carcasses. At least it wasn’t outside anyone’s house. We crossed the street and walked by the one piece of flat cleared land, where a serious game of football (soccer) was being played. From there it was all downhill, in more ways than one.
The Mathare slum is “home” to around 350, 000 “informal dwellers”. Having listened to the description of a “flying toilet” (trust me you don’t want to know) brought special meaning to the endless indescribable piles of garbage everywhere. As for “regular” toilets, it appears there are just four community toilets – really! There were eight or so more, but they were destroyed during the troubles. On this site, there is now a small billboard depicting the planned replacements – complete with landscaping!
The slum is located alongside the steep banks of a “river”. Given the state of the liquid oozing down it, ‘sewer” would be a more appropriate term. Mohammed had specifically suggested I bring my camera, but as we approached the bottom he was adamant it remain inside my bag. The reason soon became apparent. Alongside the river were dozens of illicit stills producing the highly potent and sometimes highly toxic spirit – changa. The stills are comprised of two oil drums, one containing a super hot charcoal fire, the other laid at an angle over the fire with a garden hose coming out of the high point. The hose leads to a copper coil set in the river and then into some form of plastic bottle. The stills represent the community’s major income-generator. The prospect of slipping and falling into the river didn’t bare thinking about as we crossed it via the random none-too-stable rocks passing for stepping-stones.
By this point we had been joined by Daniel, the administrator of a (the) “private” primary school. Private - because it is not funded by the government. Enrollment exceeds 550 kids. A classroom one would consider crowded with 15 students had a class roster of 61 kids. Children from the police houses nearby pay school fees. All the others are taught and fed from donations and proceeds from raising chickens. The teachers are paid, if there is money left over. Which, at least for one teacher, means he lives and works here. Click on the photo link to see teacher housing, Mathare style. And, yes I couldn’t resist, the chickens are there also.
The Mathare slum is “home” to around 350, 000 “informal dwellers”. Having listened to the description of a “flying toilet” (trust me you don’t want to know) brought special meaning to the endless indescribable piles of garbage everywhere. As for “regular” toilets, it appears there are just four community toilets – really! There were eight or so more, but they were destroyed during the troubles. On this site, there is now a small billboard depicting the planned replacements – complete with landscaping!
The slum is located alongside the steep banks of a “river”. Given the state of the liquid oozing down it, ‘sewer” would be a more appropriate term. Mohammed had specifically suggested I bring my camera, but as we approached the bottom he was adamant it remain inside my bag. The reason soon became apparent. Alongside the river were dozens of illicit stills producing the highly potent and sometimes highly toxic spirit – changa. The stills are comprised of two oil drums, one containing a super hot charcoal fire, the other laid at an angle over the fire with a garden hose coming out of the high point. The hose leads to a copper coil set in the river and then into some form of plastic bottle. The stills represent the community’s major income-generator. The prospect of slipping and falling into the river didn’t bare thinking about as we crossed it via the random none-too-stable rocks passing for stepping-stones.
By this point we had been joined by Daniel, the administrator of a (the) “private” primary school. Private - because it is not funded by the government. Enrollment exceeds 550 kids. A classroom one would consider crowded with 15 students had a class roster of 61 kids. Children from the police houses nearby pay school fees. All the others are taught and fed from donations and proceeds from raising chickens. The teachers are paid, if there is money left over. Which, at least for one teacher, means he lives and works here. Click on the photo link to see teacher housing, Mathare style. And, yes I couldn’t resist, the chickens are there also.
Monday, June 22, 2009
It's not all corrupt politicians in Kenya
Want to see the raw side of Nairobi? You have a few choices, but one of them would be the Eastleigh estate, 5-6km from the city center. Bordering Eastleigh to the north is the Mathare slum. As the crow flies Eastleigh is less than a kilometer from Muthaiga Golf Club, the preferred country club of the diplomats and Kenyan elite. And, we are talking an elite level 18-hole championship golf course here, the site of one of the few professional golf tournaments each year. Even at the busiest of times, this remains a genteel, decorous place.
Eastleigh, as you might imagine, is a different story. People everywhere; vendor after vendor with goods laid out alongside the roads, piles of charcoal for sale, workshops of all kinds in rickety wood and corrugated iron structures, decrepit buses and trucks belching diesel fumes over everything. And, during the rainy season following heavy rains, the carters do a booming trade ferrying people past the ponds that form in the roads. So what on earth was I doing experiencing Africa in the raw? Visiting Mama Fatuma’s.
Mama Fatuma was apparently something of a legend, particularly in the Muslim community of Nairobi. Her legacy is an orphanage in Eastleigh next to Mathare. Anne and I visited when we were here two years ago. Information about the orphanage, like most everything else these days, “is on the web” at
http://www.mamafatumas.org/Welcome.html.
Mohammed Hiribae, a young local university student volunteering part-time at the orphanage was persuaded to take on the position of manager as the institution was struggling to stay afloat. Meeting such a bright, well-spoken and dedicated young (although not quite as young as I thought as he has a 10 year old son) Kenyan, one can believe that even Eastleigh and Mathare can be transformed. He is certainly doing his part.
He got the UK government to support construction of a new facility from which they could provide services to the community and generate some revenue for the orphanage. The sewing classes have already begun - we are talking treadle sewing machines here. The computer classroom is operational and in use by the kids. Formal classes will start as soon as the broadband connection comes to Nairobi in the next few weeks. The adult education, focused on the displaced Somalis in the neighborhood, will open in a month or so. The big draw will be the “internet café”, not much café but an impressive Internet set up. All of this while managing to keep their head above water with a full compliment of kids. The older boys and girls don’t leave until they are either employed full time and able to support themselves or attending college. One of those just starting college is on a full scholarship to study medicine in Ankara.
Eastleigh, as you might imagine, is a different story. People everywhere; vendor after vendor with goods laid out alongside the roads, piles of charcoal for sale, workshops of all kinds in rickety wood and corrugated iron structures, decrepit buses and trucks belching diesel fumes over everything. And, during the rainy season following heavy rains, the carters do a booming trade ferrying people past the ponds that form in the roads. So what on earth was I doing experiencing Africa in the raw? Visiting Mama Fatuma’s.
Mama Fatuma was apparently something of a legend, particularly in the Muslim community of Nairobi. Her legacy is an orphanage in Eastleigh next to Mathare. Anne and I visited when we were here two years ago. Information about the orphanage, like most everything else these days, “is on the web” at
http://www.mamafatumas.org/Welcome.html.
Mohammed Hiribae, a young local university student volunteering part-time at the orphanage was persuaded to take on the position of manager as the institution was struggling to stay afloat. Meeting such a bright, well-spoken and dedicated young (although not quite as young as I thought as he has a 10 year old son) Kenyan, one can believe that even Eastleigh and Mathare can be transformed. He is certainly doing his part.
He got the UK government to support construction of a new facility from which they could provide services to the community and generate some revenue for the orphanage. The sewing classes have already begun - we are talking treadle sewing machines here. The computer classroom is operational and in use by the kids. Formal classes will start as soon as the broadband connection comes to Nairobi in the next few weeks. The adult education, focused on the displaced Somalis in the neighborhood, will open in a month or so. The big draw will be the “internet café”, not much café but an impressive Internet set up. All of this while managing to keep their head above water with a full compliment of kids. The older boys and girls don’t leave until they are either employed full time and able to support themselves or attending college. One of those just starting college is on a full scholarship to study medicine in Ankara.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Troubles in Kenya part 2 or Freedom of the Press
If there is one bright spot to the political situation in Kenya it is the freedom of the press. In the mid-70s, during my first time in Kenya, to criticize Mzee Kenyatta, the highly revered leader and symbol of the fight for independence, was tantamount to treason. Criticism of minor government officials and quasi-governmental organizations was tolerated provided it didn’t get too close to Kenyatta and his family clan. It was left to “Joe”, a satirical comic strip magazine, to provide any real criticism, and then one had to be able to read between the lines and make inferences as to object of the barb. Not so now.
The two major dailies frequently publish scathing critics of Kibaki, the President, and Odinga, the Prime Minister (a position not officially provided for in the country’s constitution). Regardless of their frequent speeches condemning corruption and tribalism, both remain rampant (Transparency International just rated Kenya third worst in sub-Saharan Africa *); cronyism from the top down is all too evident. Following establishment of the coalition government the number of ministerial positions virtually doubled to find places for Odinga’s associates. Corruption today is far more pervasive - a situation most Kenyans attribute to the Moi years following Kenyatta’s death. The farmer cooperatives, beacons of Kenyatta’s “Harrambee” (help one another) movement are now mismanaged with funds frequently siphoned off into the managers’ pockets rather than returned to the farmers. The other legacy of the Moi, and to some extent Kenyatta, presidencies is the indiscriminate land redistribution to political supporters. As a consequence, in spite of the vast amounts of aid poured into the country, poverty is endemic and naturally a major source of discontent. Which brings me full circle to freedom of expression.
The Nairobi Museum just closed an exhibit titled Kenya Burning. An exhibit not for the faint hearted! An extensive collection of photographs and video footage by local and foreign photojournalists of last year’s riots. A large notice outside made it clear the content was not suitable for children. An understatement, it contained some truly gruesome scenes. Every Kenyan I have spoken with was horrified by the events, and by the fact that the current political situation is doing nothing toward reducing the likelihood of a repeat when the next elections roll around in 2012.
As one of the local reporters featured on the video said “we (the local news media) will take some responsibility if we allow a repeat of the violence”. They are trying! Unlike the poor state of political reporting in the US, here reporting is an equal opportunity affair here – every politician is fair game, no Fox-like one-sided reporting here.
* The TI ranking is somewhat misleading as there are no “failed states” high in the list. Obviously a country has to have some level of prosperity for bribery and corruption to be even possible.
The two major dailies frequently publish scathing critics of Kibaki, the President, and Odinga, the Prime Minister (a position not officially provided for in the country’s constitution). Regardless of their frequent speeches condemning corruption and tribalism, both remain rampant (Transparency International just rated Kenya third worst in sub-Saharan Africa *); cronyism from the top down is all too evident. Following establishment of the coalition government the number of ministerial positions virtually doubled to find places for Odinga’s associates. Corruption today is far more pervasive - a situation most Kenyans attribute to the Moi years following Kenyatta’s death. The farmer cooperatives, beacons of Kenyatta’s “Harrambee” (help one another) movement are now mismanaged with funds frequently siphoned off into the managers’ pockets rather than returned to the farmers. The other legacy of the Moi, and to some extent Kenyatta, presidencies is the indiscriminate land redistribution to political supporters. As a consequence, in spite of the vast amounts of aid poured into the country, poverty is endemic and naturally a major source of discontent. Which brings me full circle to freedom of expression.
The Nairobi Museum just closed an exhibit titled Kenya Burning. An exhibit not for the faint hearted! An extensive collection of photographs and video footage by local and foreign photojournalists of last year’s riots. A large notice outside made it clear the content was not suitable for children. An understatement, it contained some truly gruesome scenes. Every Kenyan I have spoken with was horrified by the events, and by the fact that the current political situation is doing nothing toward reducing the likelihood of a repeat when the next elections roll around in 2012.
As one of the local reporters featured on the video said “we (the local news media) will take some responsibility if we allow a repeat of the violence”. They are trying! Unlike the poor state of political reporting in the US, here reporting is an equal opportunity affair here – every politician is fair game, no Fox-like one-sided reporting here.
* The TI ranking is somewhat misleading as there are no “failed states” high in the list. Obviously a country has to have some level of prosperity for bribery and corruption to be even possible.
What am I doing here?
Sure, Anne and I had spent many hours going over the same question, and to their credit, VSO had posed the same question on multiple occasions during the selection and training sessions. Talk was now meeting hard reality. We inevitably arrived at the coast during the hottest part of the year, quickly disabusing me of my recollections of
Like any new position, the initial days were taken up becoming familiar with the organization and the different personalities. Before going any further let me explain that the office in downtown Kilifi, where the staff spends most of its time, is 40km (24 miles) from the region that houses the farmer communities being served. Of the 12 people in the office, 8 are young degreed expat volunteers and just three are local staff. Yes, the ratio of expats to locals is very unusual for a NGO here. One recent addition (she arrived two weeks ahead of us) has significant forestry experience; the others have liberal arts or undergraduate science background with limited or no prior professional experience. As I understood the assignment, I was to develop the process and operational infrastructure to support an organization, which aims to grow from 150 farmers and field staff to 10,000 over the next 4-5 years. So, though questioning the need for such a large expat staff, I was ready to get started. Fast-forward 8-9 weeks.
It became increasingly clear (to her credit Anne analyzed the pitfalls before I was ready to accept them) that the organizational structure and mode of operation were going to make implementation of change challenging. Not wishing to generalize and recognizing my limited exposure, I would not be surprised to see many of the following characteristics exhibited at other NGOs: a forceful, charismatic, controlling head, rather than leader; substituting fundraising rhetoric and documentation (at last count an 80 pages brochure) for operational strategic and business plans; minimizing input from the customer (farmers); collecting data with a view to publishing academic papers and satisfying perceived needs of donors, rather than the continuous quality improvement of the product delivery and operating environment. All of this I was observing exhibited in spades, prompting me to question afresh – what am I doing here?
Without going into further gory details, they and I parted company just over a week ago.
Meanwhile I have been in
Monday, May 18, 2009
Troubles in Kenya?
Far removed from Nairobi and the other “trouble-spots”, it is easy to forget that the political situation remains tenuous. Yes, the news media has frequent stories regarding the ongoing battle of wills between Kibaki and Odinga. Since this really translates into whose crony is heading which ministerial position it has little direct bearing on the general public. That is unless one counts the cost of the additional ministries that have been spawned to “find jobs for the boys”
So it was with a certain amount of surprise I read that Obama would be visiting Ghana rather than Kenya – because of the unstable situation here. It wasn’t but an hour later I received a security alert from the VSO office in Nairobi. The warning was to avoid a particular roundabout (basically a sector of downtown.) The stated reason was that “the Mechanics are fighting the police”. Not sure who or what the “Mechanics” are. In common with many of the demonstrations in Nairobi, however, it was apparently limited to one sector of the community in a specific physical location.
Meanwhile I assume Obama continues to receive briefings regarding his grandmother’s securit, the biggest threat to which is from the Seventh Day Adventists intent on her conversion from the Muslim faith to their brand of Christianity.
So it was with a certain amount of surprise I read that Obama would be visiting Ghana rather than Kenya – because of the unstable situation here. It wasn’t but an hour later I received a security alert from the VSO office in Nairobi. The warning was to avoid a particular roundabout (basically a sector of downtown.) The stated reason was that “the Mechanics are fighting the police”. Not sure who or what the “Mechanics” are. In common with many of the demonstrations in Nairobi, however, it was apparently limited to one sector of the community in a specific physical location.
Meanwhile I assume Obama continues to receive briefings regarding his grandmother’s securit, the biggest threat to which is from the Seventh Day Adventists intent on her conversion from the Muslim faith to their brand of Christianity.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
So much for Self Help
Sunday May 10th.
This morning I was totally lacking inspiration about what to write this week. Not that there is any shortage of topics to pick up on around here. That was before taking a stroll through town this afternoon.
First, a little about Kilifi town. Kilifi and it’s smaller twin, Mnarani, across the creek basically grew up to serve passengers waiting to catch the ferry which crossed the estuary cutting through the Mombasa-Malindi road. That was before a bridge was constructed in the mid-80, which at the time was reputedly the longest in Africa. Kilifi town is bordered on the west by the Mombasa-Malindi road, by the estuary to the south and by the Indian Ocean to the east. The one paved road in town follows the estuary around to the ocean before looping back to the Mombasa road. The house is just across the road from the town.
Alongside most of the roads in town, one could find any form of clothing along with choices of whatever produce happens to be in season. Mangoes are currently plentiful, the biggest and juiciest imaginable for 10-20 KShs (80 Kenya Shillings to the US Dollar)! Bananas and peanuts seem to have no season.
Sadly my use of the past tense above was not a grammatical misstep. Sometime since late yesterday afternoon just about every small vendor stall in town was demolished. As recently as Friday Anne and I had stopped in one of the larger stalls selling kanga – the brightly colored material worn by all the women as skirts, headdresses and baby backpacks. The stall keeper’s inventory probably ran into a few hundred dollars worth. In all likelihood she acquired it through micro financing. At least her goods were not perishable. Dozens of the smaller stores with a few dozen tomatoes, garlic and greens were not as lucky. Young women, with babies and toddlers, operated most of the stalls. The few shillings they were able to get for the little extra produce they had managed to grow doubtless represents a significant portion, if not the sum total, of what they are able to earn.
There is no obvious rationale for the structures’ removal. Sure, it is highly unlikely they were paying the 16% VAT to the government. But then how many are? A few stalls, but only a few, obstructed direct access to the more established businesses standing behind them. It was not obvious whether the authorities had also removed the structural material or left it to be recovered by the stall owners. There is a large open space that would make a natural open-air market. But since government offices surround it, that won’t happen. It will be interesting to see what happens next week. I suspect, however, that whilst there may be much talk there will be little action. Given the poverty evident everywhere here it is hard to see life will ever improve for the disenfranchised when their own government seems intent on snuffing out the smallest of enterprises.
This morning I was totally lacking inspiration about what to write this week. Not that there is any shortage of topics to pick up on around here. That was before taking a stroll through town this afternoon.
First, a little about Kilifi town. Kilifi and it’s smaller twin, Mnarani, across the creek basically grew up to serve passengers waiting to catch the ferry which crossed the estuary cutting through the Mombasa-Malindi road. That was before a bridge was constructed in the mid-80, which at the time was reputedly the longest in Africa. Kilifi town is bordered on the west by the Mombasa-Malindi road, by the estuary to the south and by the Indian Ocean to the east. The one paved road in town follows the estuary around to the ocean before looping back to the Mombasa road. The house is just across the road from the town.
Alongside most of the roads in town, one could find any form of clothing along with choices of whatever produce happens to be in season. Mangoes are currently plentiful, the biggest and juiciest imaginable for 10-20 KShs (80 Kenya Shillings to the US Dollar)! Bananas and peanuts seem to have no season.
Sadly my use of the past tense above was not a grammatical misstep. Sometime since late yesterday afternoon just about every small vendor stall in town was demolished. As recently as Friday Anne and I had stopped in one of the larger stalls selling kanga – the brightly colored material worn by all the women as skirts, headdresses and baby backpacks. The stall keeper’s inventory probably ran into a few hundred dollars worth. In all likelihood she acquired it through micro financing. At least her goods were not perishable. Dozens of the smaller stores with a few dozen tomatoes, garlic and greens were not as lucky. Young women, with babies and toddlers, operated most of the stalls. The few shillings they were able to get for the little extra produce they had managed to grow doubtless represents a significant portion, if not the sum total, of what they are able to earn.
There is no obvious rationale for the structures’ removal. Sure, it is highly unlikely they were paying the 16% VAT to the government. But then how many are? A few stalls, but only a few, obstructed direct access to the more established businesses standing behind them. It was not obvious whether the authorities had also removed the structural material or left it to be recovered by the stall owners. There is a large open space that would make a natural open-air market. But since government offices surround it, that won’t happen. It will be interesting to see what happens next week. I suspect, however, that whilst there may be much talk there will be little action. Given the poverty evident everywhere here it is hard to see life will ever improve for the disenfranchised when their own government seems intent on snuffing out the smallest of enterprises.
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Piki Piki Training April 16th.
Less than a week before departing for Kenya I was surprised to receive notification of motorbike training set for a couple of weeks after our arrival. Though I hadn’t anticipated the assignment coming with a motorbike it is now obvious that the vast majority of the organization’s business is in the hinterland remote from Kilifi. Never having owned a motorbike this was going to be something new.
The training was in Machakos about 40 miles outside Nairobi. Requested to be in the Nairobi VSO office Thursday morning at 8:30 called for taking the overnight bus. I managed to sleep most of the way and can report the trip was without any form of incident. The training was scheduled for five days, which seemed like an inordinately long time to learn to ride a motorbike. The first day was taken up with getting everyone (4 trainees - of which 3 were female, instructor, 5 bikes and VSO driver) out to Machakos. At this pace it was easy to see how 5 days would go by. Right! After breakfast the next morning it was out to a large open field for – introductions to your piki piki. After a couple of hours of general driving and weaving around plastic cones we rode into town for lunch. The afternoon agenda called for “off-road riding” – yes! Turned out they were not kidding! True, we didn’t have to contend with traffic, just the occasional goat. Dried-up river beds and the like proved to be a great place to learn. I surprised myself with the kinds of terrain I could traverse and still manage to stay upright. The following afternoon we took a much longer ride up one of the volcanic mounds that surround town. This time there were other “road users”. First, calling significant sections of the route a road is to be overly generous. True, some sections contained tarmac. The unfinished tracks in most places were, however, far smoother. Negotiating steep hairpin bends when one half of the road has reverted to dirt and the other half is pocked with 6-9 inch deep craters is interesting. And, here everyone is a user who claims rights to the complete road. Everything from trucks, matatus, crazy cyclists careening downhill carrying impossible loads, herds of cattle, and kids using it as a playground, all expect full right of way.. In the meantime we were exposed to the requirements of the Kenyan driver license theory test.
The theory test includes the usual knowledge checks of the Highway Code and road signs. This is supplemented with a “model town-rule-of-the-road” test. The major feature of the tabletop model is a four-lane highway intersecting a three-lane city thoroughfare at a roundabout. There is probably just one such intersection in the whole of Kenya, in Nairobi where the highway from the airport meets Kenyatta Avenue. The test is to maneuver a toy car from one spot to position it behind another vehicle on the board. Given the convoluted nature of some paths it is hardly surprising the majority of drivers negotiating the Uhuru-Kenyatta roundabout do not adhere to the patterns memorized to pass the test. The test day was Monday, and that is what it takes – a day!
No schedules here. Everyone (on this day 28 applicants) wishing to take the test arrived by 9:00 am.. The police inspector arrived shortly after – we were lucky I was told. She then addressed the assembled crowd in the courtyard spending the next hour or so going line by line through the two application forms as everyone filled them out. Then one by one the theory quiz. Pass and one now waits for the practical. For the motorbike this consisted of riding out of the driveway onto the main road into town, riding out about a 100 yards or so and when safe doing a U-turn and returning to the driveway – finished. Well not quite. Now more forms before we managed lunch around 2:30. Oh - yes I did pass. Now all I need is a piki piki – this week inshallah.
The training was in Machakos about 40 miles outside Nairobi. Requested to be in the Nairobi VSO office Thursday morning at 8:30 called for taking the overnight bus. I managed to sleep most of the way and can report the trip was without any form of incident. The training was scheduled for five days, which seemed like an inordinately long time to learn to ride a motorbike. The first day was taken up with getting everyone (4 trainees - of which 3 were female, instructor, 5 bikes and VSO driver) out to Machakos. At this pace it was easy to see how 5 days would go by. Right! After breakfast the next morning it was out to a large open field for – introductions to your piki piki. After a couple of hours of general driving and weaving around plastic cones we rode into town for lunch. The afternoon agenda called for “off-road riding” – yes! Turned out they were not kidding! True, we didn’t have to contend with traffic, just the occasional goat. Dried-up river beds and the like proved to be a great place to learn. I surprised myself with the kinds of terrain I could traverse and still manage to stay upright. The following afternoon we took a much longer ride up one of the volcanic mounds that surround town. This time there were other “road users”. First, calling significant sections of the route a road is to be overly generous. True, some sections contained tarmac. The unfinished tracks in most places were, however, far smoother. Negotiating steep hairpin bends when one half of the road has reverted to dirt and the other half is pocked with 6-9 inch deep craters is interesting. And, here everyone is a user who claims rights to the complete road. Everything from trucks, matatus, crazy cyclists careening downhill carrying impossible loads, herds of cattle, and kids using it as a playground, all expect full right of way.. In the meantime we were exposed to the requirements of the Kenyan driver license theory test.
The theory test includes the usual knowledge checks of the Highway Code and road signs. This is supplemented with a “model town-rule-of-the-road” test. The major feature of the tabletop model is a four-lane highway intersecting a three-lane city thoroughfare at a roundabout. There is probably just one such intersection in the whole of Kenya, in Nairobi where the highway from the airport meets Kenyatta Avenue. The test is to maneuver a toy car from one spot to position it behind another vehicle on the board. Given the convoluted nature of some paths it is hardly surprising the majority of drivers negotiating the Uhuru-Kenyatta roundabout do not adhere to the patterns memorized to pass the test. The test day was Monday, and that is what it takes – a day!
No schedules here. Everyone (on this day 28 applicants) wishing to take the test arrived by 9:00 am.. The police inspector arrived shortly after – we were lucky I was told. She then addressed the assembled crowd in the courtyard spending the next hour or so going line by line through the two application forms as everyone filled them out. Then one by one the theory quiz. Pass and one now waits for the practical. For the motorbike this consisted of riding out of the driveway onto the main road into town, riding out about a 100 yards or so and when safe doing a U-turn and returning to the driveway – finished. Well not quite. Now more forms before we managed lunch around 2:30. Oh - yes I did pass. Now all I need is a piki piki – this week inshallah.
Another Trip to the X-Farm Thursday April 9th
In the interim since the first trip to the experimental farm at Ganze, planting holes have been dug. Today’s task was to basically fill the hole back in again whilst inserting measured amounts of fertilizer and pesticide at prescribed depths. Although the task is relatively simple the exercise didn’t get off to a great start. An instruction sheet was used to demonstrate the process to the twelve or so non-English speaking day-workers, The first demonstration unfortunately omitted a step. The second attempt went smoothly. But in handing out the instruction sheet and pointing to the accompanying diagram it became obvious the two didn’t gibe, hence one more demonstration. The third time was a charm. Needless to say though. by this time there were a number of confused looks. So, I got to observe and ensure everyone followed “the” process.
I am sure you have seen old colonial-era pictures of a white overseer standing under the midday sun, complete with big floppy hat, watching locals working the land. The picture usually invoked in me a somewhat negative reaction and a questioning as to why he was ”just standing around”. Standing on a classic African hillside under the late morning sun, I found myself in just that pose. Thankfully no one had a camera and lunchtime eventually came to my rescue.
Lunch was at the local hotel aka restaurant (kind of). The nyama (gristly meat) usually isn’t worth the effort that chewing it requires, which leaves beans, rice and varied cooked greens. The maharagwe (beans) are a staple here and when cooked with shaved fresh coconut can be delicious. No small praise from this avowed carnivore.
Chickens! As we were relaxing after lunch, sitting outside the restaurant, along came the chicken truck. The standard Toyota Hilux pickup. (Those familiar with the BBC program Top Gear will further appreciate why this particular vehicle is the one of choice in this part of the world - video.google.com/videoplay?docid=5179975685121295378 or search 'top gear toyota'). The bed of the truck had a three tier cage arrangement. The bottom two were FULL of chickens. As the Easter holiday was coming up the assumption was they were selling chickens. No. Following a brief conversation and an exchange of money another chicken was added to the load. The local economy at work.
I am sure you have seen old colonial-era pictures of a white overseer standing under the midday sun, complete with big floppy hat, watching locals working the land. The picture usually invoked in me a somewhat negative reaction and a questioning as to why he was ”just standing around”. Standing on a classic African hillside under the late morning sun, I found myself in just that pose. Thankfully no one had a camera and lunchtime eventually came to my rescue.
Lunch was at the local hotel aka restaurant (kind of). The nyama (gristly meat) usually isn’t worth the effort that chewing it requires, which leaves beans, rice and varied cooked greens. The maharagwe (beans) are a staple here and when cooked with shaved fresh coconut can be delicious. No small praise from this avowed carnivore.
Chickens! As we were relaxing after lunch, sitting outside the restaurant, along came the chicken truck. The standard Toyota Hilux pickup. (Those familiar with the BBC program Top Gear will further appreciate why this particular vehicle is the one of choice in this part of the world - video.google.com/videoplay?docid=5179975685121295378 or search 'top gear toyota'). The bed of the truck had a three tier cage arrangement. The bottom two were FULL of chickens. As the Easter holiday was coming up the assumption was they were selling chickens. No. Following a brief conversation and an exchange of money another chicken was added to the load. The local economy at work.
Matatus and Chickens (for real)
Recipients of Elspeth’s journals are already familiar with matatus and chickens. Matatus are the private minivans that provide the majority of the public transportation in Central Asia and Africa. They operate between defined locations but not necessarily along a predefined route. The destinations are painted on the sides along with the other key piece of information - the passenger capacity. No mention of luggage/cargo limits, which in many cases would be equally significant. Needless to say the limit is “advisory”. A matatu is never so full that it can’t pick up more passengers.
We recently made the trip to Ganze, about 35 kilometers inland from Kilifi. Ganze is one of the poorest places in Kenya. In addition to being the site of a number of farms already supported by the organization it is also the location of a new experimental farm (more of that later – back to mutatus!).
The trip out was uneventful, particularly as we had snagged the premium seats – the two front seats. The front seats being available, however, indicates one may have quite a wait. Economics dictate staying put until commercially viable to move, usually about 80% full. No schedule here. With gasoline at over $4 a gallon and the fare for the 35km trip over punishing roads running around $1.20 it’s easy to understand the rationale. The first stop outside Kilifi was for an elderly woman complete with, yes you guessed, a large pile of bags and live chicken. One of the bags took two of us to load and as we unloaded it in the middle of nowhere I have no idea how she transported it home. Returning late in the afternoon we departed half empty. Not for long. Not counting driver and “conductor/passenger procurer” and not including babes in arms, of which there were two, we figured that ultimately there were 23 passengers.
Between times we had assisted preparations at the experimental farm. The fields are on relatively steep, rolling hills. The soil is predominantly sand and doesn’t look capable of supporting much beyond the scrub they were cleared of. The area looked as though it had received a fairly heavy downpour overnight. More than a couple of millimeters down, though, it was bone dry. The plots had previously been cleared of brush and small trees that characterize much of the scenery in this part of Kenya. The task for the day was to mark out the planting grids for the three crops currently being studied – sunflower, jatropha and eucalyptus. Eucalyptus and jatropha have already been planted on the first 150 farms. The experiments are to determine the most effective planting and maintenance strategies. The variables include differing plant clones, size of planting hole, amounts and types of fertilizer, pesticide and water, followed by varying levels of pruning.
At the end of the day a cold beer and cold (although never truly cold, as the water tank sits on the roof heated by the sun all day) shower never felt so good.
We recently made the trip to Ganze, about 35 kilometers inland from Kilifi. Ganze is one of the poorest places in Kenya. In addition to being the site of a number of farms already supported by the organization it is also the location of a new experimental farm (more of that later – back to mutatus!).
The trip out was uneventful, particularly as we had snagged the premium seats – the two front seats. The front seats being available, however, indicates one may have quite a wait. Economics dictate staying put until commercially viable to move, usually about 80% full. No schedule here. With gasoline at over $4 a gallon and the fare for the 35km trip over punishing roads running around $1.20 it’s easy to understand the rationale. The first stop outside Kilifi was for an elderly woman complete with, yes you guessed, a large pile of bags and live chicken. One of the bags took two of us to load and as we unloaded it in the middle of nowhere I have no idea how she transported it home. Returning late in the afternoon we departed half empty. Not for long. Not counting driver and “conductor/passenger procurer” and not including babes in arms, of which there were two, we figured that ultimately there were 23 passengers.
Between times we had assisted preparations at the experimental farm. The fields are on relatively steep, rolling hills. The soil is predominantly sand and doesn’t look capable of supporting much beyond the scrub they were cleared of. The area looked as though it had received a fairly heavy downpour overnight. More than a couple of millimeters down, though, it was bone dry. The plots had previously been cleared of brush and small trees that characterize much of the scenery in this part of Kenya. The task for the day was to mark out the planting grids for the three crops currently being studied – sunflower, jatropha and eucalyptus. Eucalyptus and jatropha have already been planted on the first 150 farms. The experiments are to determine the most effective planting and maintenance strategies. The variables include differing plant clones, size of planting hole, amounts and types of fertilizer, pesticide and water, followed by varying levels of pruning.
At the end of the day a cold beer and cold (although never truly cold, as the water tank sits on the roof heated by the sun all day) shower never felt so good.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Another Red-Eye
The third red-eye in five days. Contrary to VSO’s policy we are Kilifi-bound aboard the overnight Malindi bus. The overnight buses are considered to be less safe than the daytime trips. We were, however, unable to locate any daytime time bus to destinations north of Mombasa and changing buses with the amount of luggage we are dragging around Kenya was out of the question. Also, having experienced the daytime driving in Nairobi and the volume of traffic on less than stellar roads, it was hard to imagine what ills might wait us for being foolhardy enough to travel overnight. The departure was totally uneventful with the bus, surprise-surprise, leaving on time.
For those on Elspeth’s e-mail list, sorry, no chickens. The bus was relatively new with some semblance of air conditioning, assigned seats and all of the baggage properly stowed. In other words quite civilized, as opposed to similar long distances buses in Central Asia and even the mutatus of East Africa. We were, however, about to experience the potential pitfalls of traveling at night.
Many highways are undergoing major restoration/upgrades. We encountered one such roadwork about an hour outside Nairobi. The detour consists of a roughly-graded track that is only passable at only the slowest of speeds. The resultant backups prompt drivers in the know to take alternative bypasses, usually through some part of the construction site. Our journey came to a sudden halt on one such “bypass”. ( Obviously since the bus driver had previously negotiated this particular autocross route a construction crew had been along and made modifications.) To avoid driving into the 50-foot pit that had suddenly appeared in its path the bus became wedged on concrete blocks and a huge pile of dirt resembling a large sand dune. The left-hand rear wheels were barely making contact with the ground while a large concrete block was wedged under the right side. It looked like a long night standing around in the middle of nowhere. Miraculously, about an hour later the bus was extracted and we continued on uneventfully to Kilifi.
We drove through a short downpour as we approached Kilifi. Hopefully the start of more rain to come.
For those on Elspeth’s e-mail list, sorry, no chickens. The bus was relatively new with some semblance of air conditioning, assigned seats and all of the baggage properly stowed. In other words quite civilized, as opposed to similar long distances buses in Central Asia and even the mutatus of East Africa. We were, however, about to experience the potential pitfalls of traveling at night.
Many highways are undergoing major restoration/upgrades. We encountered one such roadwork about an hour outside Nairobi. The detour consists of a roughly-graded track that is only passable at only the slowest of speeds. The resultant backups prompt drivers in the know to take alternative bypasses, usually through some part of the construction site. Our journey came to a sudden halt on one such “bypass”. ( Obviously since the bus driver had previously negotiated this particular autocross route a construction crew had been along and made modifications.) To avoid driving into the 50-foot pit that had suddenly appeared in its path the bus became wedged on concrete blocks and a huge pile of dirt resembling a large sand dune. The left-hand rear wheels were barely making contact with the ground while a large concrete block was wedged under the right side. It looked like a long night standing around in the middle of nowhere. Miraculously, about an hour later the bus was extracted and we continued on uneventfully to Kilifi.
We drove through a short downpour as we approached Kilifi. Hopefully the start of more rain to come.
Monday, April 6, 2009
Background
Three and a half years ago Anne and I informed our three girls (Hilary, Elspeth and Nellie) we were moving to France. Elspeth’s response to our announcement was to e-mail her distribution list with “can you believe it my parents are leaving the country, they are supposed to stay home so I have somewhere to come home to”. Those of you on her mailing list are familiar with her travels to Azerbaijan and Georgia. Little did she, or we, know that the assignment in Paris would stretch to 3 years and that just weeks later we would be headed to Kenya. March 22nd we celebrated granddaughter Bintou’s 5th birthday before saying our goodbyes.
My assignment was arranged through Volunteer Services Overseas (VSO). The relationship has had its ups and downs. But that is something for a separate posting someday. The organization we are engaged with, however, has been the epitome of an agile organization with a can-do attitude. After almost 30 years, during which time “we” meant Boeing, it will take some getting used to “we” denoting a completly different organization. Given the work being done it shouldn’t be difficult.
Working with some of the poorest farmers in one of the poorest districts in Kenya we provide the means to earn income from crops produced on land not currently utilized.
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