Citizen action- is it possible?

I usually leave local transport issues up to my assistants to figure out. Thursday they decided it would be best to try for a matatu (mini-bus) in town rather than walk a bit farther and get a taxi (car). Next time, we are going for a taxi. No questions asked. Once we were in the matatu it took almost an hour to leave. Annoying!!! Also annoying, but slightly entertaining, was the following story...

There were three of us at the back of this minivan- painted with the words '7 passengers', then three in the middle seat, and then two in the front. By the time we had all these people on board we were already over the legal limit (of seven), and the driver wasn't in place. I was biting at the bit to get going on the day as we had already had a delay or two, so I stuck my head out the window and talked to the guy who had been herding people in.

I said to him "the car is full. What are we waiting for? Where is the driver?"

He said "I am the driver. We just need to put two more people in the car".

"Where?" I asked, "the car is full- there is no space".

"Right here" he said, pointing to the non-existent space beside me. "And there" he said, pointing to the equally non-existent space in the middle seat.

WELL, when a man tried to sit in the back with us I didn't move over. Because I couldn't. I wasn't about to sit on the very hard plastic cup holder bit, and I knew what everyone else in the vehicle also knew- that overloading is illegal, that you should only have people for the number of seatbelts, and that at 8 passengers we were already over the legal limit (actually, I thought it was legal to have two plus the driver in the front, but that is one too many). SO, since there wasn't space anyway (I was next to a man who had 'eaten well'), and the fourth man was not physically able to sit down, I pointed out to him that there was now a blank space at the front- one of the people had left because the matatu was so slow in leaving.

The fourth man went to the front.

I made rumblings to the people next to me about how it is illegal, not safe, etc etc etc. to add more people. Then another guy tried to sit in the back. "No" I told him. "There is no room. There are only three seatbelts, and three seats and any more would be illegal. There is no more room."

The driver and his buddy came to talk to me... "please, madam, just allow the man to sit there"...

BUT, by now I was gaining adrenaline... "NO" I said forcefully "that is not legal. You are breaking the law. This is a kind of corruption, and it is not right. I can not agree to go along with this".

"Then can you pay an extra 50KSh for the other seat that you will not allow someone to sit in?" they asked/ demanded

"What seat?" I replied "there is no seat here- only the window. There is no way someone can sit here, and it is illegal. I can not pay for a seat that does not exist".

They left. How can they really argue that? I got votes of encouragement from the other passengers, who were totally silent throughout the whole thing, but were, I found out later, silently cheering for me.

A fourth person got on the middle seat. They obviously weren't inspired into action by my speeches, though they were somewhat entertained. Two of the people in that middle seat were my enumerators.

Still, the car would not go. They came back to me again. "Please, madam, can you go and trade places with someone in the front so that we can add more people here?"

"NO!!" I said "What good would that do? It's not the point to sit in a different spot. The point is that I can not agree to sharing my seat illegally in this bus. It is like agreeing to corruption, and it is not right."

Finally, we left. I wondered what would happen, but I couldn't back down. Not then. Not after talking so much. Also, there literally wasn't any room because the guy beside me was so big. The trip would be long, and the idea of being squished agains the window, seated on a cupholder did not appeal to me.

WE went around the corner, the drivers changed, and a guy jumped in who had previously not boarded when I had refused to squish over one inch, and said it was full (he had agreed at that point).

That guy- named Brian- turned around and gave me a big grin. He must have been Pokot- I think- missing the two front teeth. He said to me "see, we just need to make money". Oh... I could have pummelled him.

But I didn't. I used words. Oh boy... I was on a roll... you know it isn't very often I just let loose like this!!!

"I meet Kenyans every day that tell me the one thing that is ruining their country is corruption. Well, where do you think it starts????"

"We just want to make money madam"

"Well, there is a right way and a wrong way to do that. Do you teach your children to lie and cheat and bribe? Is that how you teach them to live? Is that what you think is right?!?"

"no..."
"Well, why do you conduct business that way then? If the driver would have left when he had the correct number of passengers, he would never have to pay bribes, and he could have made much more money by doing more runs in a day. We could have all been at our destinations already if we had not waited to over fill the vehicle."

Then we passed a cop, who did not look at the vehicle.

Another half-toothed grin.

"This is what I mean. How do you expect things to change in your country if you do not change yourself? Why does everyone agree to break the laws when you know they are there?"

"But we are Africans madam. We just need someone like you to come and tell us the way we should do things"

At this point I nearly exploded... I'm sure there was steam... "People like me? Africans are people and I am a person. You do not need someone from far to say how to fight corruption and do things legally. You know how to do it, but you refuse."

"No, we need you to tell us what to do madam!"

"You do NOT need me to tell you!!! You can think for yourselves!!! I will leave soon- I am only here for a short time, and you will probably never see me again. What can I do? You need to be the ones that want change and make change!!!"

Then the tire got flat ("because we are overloaded", muttered another passenger). We pulled over and Brian and I continued our conversation a we all piled out and waited. He showed me the 7 passengers written on the side, and grinned. What the heck was he getting at?

"See", I said- "everyone can see it! Why do you all agree to ignore it? You have the power of refusing to go along with it. If everyone started refusing, things would change. That is how change happens". Changing tactics, I asked Brian, "do you have children?".

"Not yet"...

"Do you have younger brothers and sisters that look up to you???" I further questioned

"Yes"

"Well, then, what do you teach them??? What sort of things do you tell them are okay to do? Do you teach them that breaking the law is right, that agreeing to corruption is right,. that putting yourself in dangerous situations is right?"

"Ah... but we are African madam"

(Is he actually saying these words?!?) "Africans are PEOPLE. We are ALL people. that can not be an excuse if you want this country to be different for your children!!!"

Anyways, by the time we arrived in our destination the conversation had moved to biblical reasons for getting ahead in this world, which really riled me- because as Christians we should especially aspire to be without reproach... oh, it made me so mad. I was just thinking in my mind, don't mess with me, man... And don't try to drag Jesus into being a reason for your bad behaviour!!!

I felt a bit like a hypocrite, because I routinely ride in overstuffed matatus and taxis, but I am choosing places to draw the line. At least I can make a ruckus about what happens in the seat I occupy. People congratulated me when we were outside the vehicle. They said they really learned something today. Good, I thought.. now practice it!!!

Ahhhhh.... then a nice relaxing ride on a boda-boda, four good interviews, and then we had to return, because the day was over.

Thankfully the taxi driver did not put in an eighth passenger (ie to share the drivers seat with him- that is where I 'draw the line' with taxis). I only had enough energy to argue like that once in a day.

Saturday around town

Some pictures around town. Here is the shop where I picked up my Kenyan outfit I had ordered to have made. I'll put up pics of that later. The woman in the foreground is the shop owner. She quoted another Canadian girl close to $45 for material and to make a dress for her two weeks ago (at another shop that she owns), then the same woman quoted the same girl a price of $20 one week ago, when I also ordered my outfit. The difference?? My friend Sarah, who was Kenyan, and knew the lady well was with us when we went together last week. I guess she didn't feel like she could say such an inflated price in front of a person who knows the actual costs. We are used to getting charged 'mzungu prices' and needing to bargain hard if we want similar treatment to others on the street, but this difference in price was a little silly.

In any case, it was interesting to be in a tailor shop and watch the workers non-chalantly piecing fabric bits together with none of the precision I was taught in my sewing class in high school, then using foot-pedal powered sewing machines. They did have one electric serger too, but I guess if the power goes out, that means only one person is out of commission. When ordering my dress I just pointed to crumpled pictures they had from magazines, and described any differences I wanted.

The other option of buying clothes is second-hand, as you can see on this shot of a street in town. Choose your stall. One has all blazer/suit jackets, another has all polar fleece, the next is all men's brown or black shoes, and the next is ladies undergarments... I bought a pair of sturdy brown shoes today as well as a pair of brown trousers... both chosen for their ability to hide dust and mud well...

I stopped in at a drug store with my friend Sella this afternoon. She was sick from drinking milk that wasn't boiled properly. Anyway, when looking at the vast array of medicines I was amused to see half the shelf space dedicated to humans (including selling bottled water... I guess that is a medicine too...), and half dedicated to ridding your goats of ticks, increasing milk production in cows, and curing who knows what in chickens. You could also purchase fertliser for your tomatos or collard green seeds to plant in your kitchen garden.

Below are Sellah and I, after spending two hours in a hair salon. I just read entertaining Kenyan woman's magazines (with articles on polygamy and models who actually looked like people you see in town, rather than the typical skinny skinny North American ones), but she had her hair subjected to all sorts of torture. Well, that's how I see it, since I don't even like using hairspray in mine, and I constantly try to convince my husband to give up his gel habit...

All this is in the name of fashion and style and looking presentable... first vaseline was put on her scalp, then a relaxer chemical (the vaseline was to protect her scalp from burning), then it was washed out, then something else was put in, then it was put in curlers, then she got them dried (I smelled burning but didn't want to alarm anyone...), then it was combed out (as in the curls were combed out), all but a few on top and a swoosh at the nape of her neck. I have a whole new respect now for the effort involved in styling Kenyan women's hair. The lady next to her had some sort of plastic mesh thing put on her head, and then had bits of hair pulled gently through to form a mass of little bumps made of loops of hair (like how a carpet is made?). She also sat under a drier, then later the mesh was removed, the bumps were perfect, and bits were further flattened/ styled with more goop.

Boy am I thankful for my wash-and-go locks!

Here's a pic of a Sunday School class from a local church in the recording studio of the radio station on campus where I stay. Linus is recording them, as part of a kid's program that aired later in the day. They recited bible verses and said poems and sang songs. It was pretty sweet.

The Maendeleo & Fireless Jikos

Here I am with Limu, a field officer for SCC-Vi in charge of one of the areas I am working in. We are both holding versions of the Kuni Mbili (two firewood) stoves- mine is in a metal casing that makes it portable- you can just open a latch to insert the wood. Limu's is one that can either be used as is, or fixed into clay as you can see in the poster below.

This stove is one that is promoted by the Ministry of Agriculture, along with the Fireless or Basket Cooker you can see at our feet. Both are made by women's groups as income generation projects, but they are both relatively slow to catch on, compared to the Chepkube stove that is a local innovation, cheaper and more easy to make from locally available materials. I also think the Chepkube uses less fuel, although I don't have a good way to proove it.

Work this week

One of the objectives of my research project is to figure out what the role of the three stone fire is in the household. It turns out there are all sorts of traditions about this stove. Any chance we get we ask about them, and get slightly different versions, and new stories from almost everyone. We haven't hit the saturation point yet. There are a lot of things that center around the hearth (or, did in previous times)!

We were lucky enough to be together with about ten older folks from the community of various stripes, including two village elders (like a mayor, but unpaid, and for a small area). They were from various subtribes of the Luhya peoples (mainly Bukusu). They again told us about the three stones representing the family- the father, mother, and children, with the largest stone representing the father, as the head of the household.

One tradition struck a chord with me, especally since I am newly married and my wedding was a fabulous occasion for me. While in a Canadian wedding it is typically the bride's chance to be a princess for a day, in their tradition she is more like a Cinderella... During the 'pre-wedding celebrations', the new wife needs to travel to her husband's home carrying with her all the ingredients, pots, pans, stirring spoons, and even a broom to clean up in order to prepare a big meal for not only her new husband, but also his parents and entire extended family. This girl must spend who knows how long in the kitchen of her new house making enough food to feed the crowd using her brand-new three-stone stove, and then serve it to them... waiting nervously for their reaction. If it tastes good, the wedding goes on. If she forgot the salt or burned the potatos, she may have to return to her parent's home in shame!!!

Yup. That's too much pressure for me. Thank goodness serving a feast to your inlaws isn't a prerequisite for Canadian girls to get married!

In contrast to the previous post, about an area where it was difficult to find anything but three stone stoves, the Cherangani area, where the next photo was taken was full of people using anything BUT the three stones. This particular model is the most expensive fuel saving device I have come across. I was purchased by a young guy who likely worked in a cafe or restaurant, so is kind of like the industrial model of a wood stove. It can take wood, charcoal, sawdust or maize cobs as fuel.

Another task this week was to visit various government offices to get background information about the areas. In one area, the Division Chief (like a mayor of an area including 20-30 villages), the District Officer (federal government), and the area Agriculture office all shared a compound. When I excused myself for a 'short call' I was a little shocked, but at least thankful that they couldn't be accused of misappropriating funds in their washroom facilities. And no, you don't see a door. And yes, that is a small hole. And yes, it was one of the worse ones I have seen.

Three Stone Fires

I tend to focus on pics of new and interesting stoves, but here's a pic of a woman in her kitchen, where she uses the 'Mawe Tatu Jiko' (three stone stove) or Jiko ya kienyeji (traditional stove). You can see a few other traditional things on the wall- milk jugs made of gourds and a basket thing for sifting flour to make ugali. Her stove actually had 8 stones, and could support up to three pots... I think this conserves fuel to some extent, as the flames could heat different pots at the same time.

In general, though, this represents the way to use the most amount of fuel in the shortest amount of time in the most inefficient manner. But, it's tradition...

The scenery outside the house, in an area called Endebess. This area has the highest usage rate of mawe tatu, despite there not being many trees around at all. In fact, I have yet to find someone that cooks only with firewood. In reality, everyone uses fuelwood to supplement the maize cobs and stalks they also burn.

Wazungu Party

Friday after work I went to a party!!! Woohoo… a potluck BBQ… I didn’t bring or eat meat, but I did bring a lot of fruit, my favourite thing to buy in the markets here!! This time there were maybe fifteen wazungu (white people) and one Kenyan guy. Everyone but me work with some sort of Christian based organization working with street children or orphans (among other ventures). There is a big group of them that get together every few weeks, and I was lucky enough to get connected to them (strangely, through one of their blogs, when I was trying to figure out how safe Kitale was back in January). The first Wazungu party was three weeks ago, just after I arrived in Kitale. There were about 30 people at that one.

It is definitely interesting, and invaluable to have these contacts, and opportunities for friendships, because our similar cultural backgrounds mean we are able to analyse and process experiences more similar to eachother and differently than my Kenyan friends. I have been able to run situations by some of them to get a more experienced person’s perspective, and also have just really enjoyed having great conversations with people who are as puzzled as I am or as troubled as I am about different things we see.

We spoke about Kenyan politics, corruption, what it was actually like in Kitale in the midst of the troubles in December-February, and the many and various projects everyone is involved in. I'll see if I can't get links to some of their blogs up on my page.

The parties were both held on a beautiful compound in the rich side of town, where the streets are lined with gorgeous towering trees, and the lots are huge expanses of grass and flower beds. This is the exact opposite of the area I am staying in, both in direction and appearance. So, I stay over night so as not to travel in the dark back to my place. It is nice to be part of a 'western household' for one night every once in a while, as a surreal respite!!

Girls Day

Saturday… was fabulous. I hung out with girlfriends (only) all day… and it has been a long time since I have done that, even in Canada (naturally, as most of the time I spend any spare moment in Canada with my fabulous husband!!!).

After waking at a leisurely hour, drinking REAL coffee for breakfast (as in not instant, which is what you usually get at cafes and in most people’s houses) and having toast (as in bread that is actually toasted… in a toaster… as opposed to the ‘toast’ you order at cafes, which is plain, white bread straight out of the bag), we had a little discussion about a section of the Bible my hosts were studying as a group, and then three of us girls took off for the day, and another one joined in. Three Canadians and an American. One of the Canadian girls is living permanently here in Kitale while the other girls are just there for a short time like me.

First stop, the baby rescue center around the corner. A British girl runs it now… I think it is was started by a family connection… not exactly sure… in any case, it looks like a great operation… 11 ‘babies’ between 8 months and 3 ½. Either abandoned by parents or orphans. Some come from as far away as Lodwar (Northern Kenya) and others are from close by. We held babies and played peek-a-boo for over an hour. Very relaxing on their expansive lawn.

After the babies we went to the museum to watch the finals for the secondary schools music competition. The singing finals were held in a small round foyer place, and the dance finals were in a large auditorium with beautiful mural like paintings on the wall depicting several tribes of Kenya.

The schools were supposed to choose songs along a theme, for instance to do with a certain tribe of Kenya, or 'popular music' or 'music from the 80's'. They were judged not only on their musical ability but also on the morals or lessons that could be learned from the song. Most kids performed dances/ songs that were from a tribe other than their own, such as these two schools doing islamic songs.

This pic of a kid with a cowboy hat cracks me up. The song is about a love triangle between a Kenyan man, the woman who's university education he financed in Japan, and the 'short Japanese man' who she stepped off the plane with three years later, while holding his baby. There were two boys who stood a bit forward of the semi circle of singers, and did some REALLY cheese dance moves. I've got a video of it that I will try to post at some point. Hilarious. I think they were supposed to represent the two men, but have no idea which was which.

The day was rounded off with a great meal and time of chatting about 'girl stuff', a visit to a tailor with a Kenyan friend to get a Kenyan style outfit made, and then a visit to my friend's house, where I got to see her mom's cool stove.

I got after a taxi triver on the way to Sarah's house...I used Swahili... so proud of myself. When he stopped to pick up the eighth passenger in a five-person vehicle, I asked him where on earth he thought she would sit. There were already four people in the back, and I was sharing the front passenger seat with another woman and both our bags. He could barely switch gears as it was, since I was nearly sitting on his seat. Obviously, he intended for this new full grown woman to share the driver's seat with him. I protested it would be dangerous, and that the car was already full. Once I started this line of talking, the other passengers joined in, and my friend Sarah declared we would not pay him our full fare if he let another passenger in. He did let the woman in, she did somehow share the drivers seat with him, and we did NOT pay him our full fare. Sarah and I paid 3/4 of the price for each of us and simply walked away. Most people agree here that while the law is there to limit the number of people in a vehicle to the number of seatbelts, police are generally paid off in the mornings to ensure 'safe' overstuffed rides all day long.

Primary Schools Music Competition

The area around SCC-Vi (where I work) was buzzing this week, full of school kids in costumes and school uniforms preparing to perform next door on the museum grounds. Here are some pics of the scene, and some groups of students. The first couple days were the Trans Nzoia District competition for Primary kids, and the last couple days were for Secondary kids. The Primary kids are pictured here. There were three categories: Song, Dance, and Poetry (done as a group, spoken word style).

Stoves of the week

My research assistants started this week. Am learning how to be a boss/supervisor. I think I will tell them now to come at 8am, so they are there by 8:30... Unless they change their ways tomorrow and actually show up when I ask them to. Perhaps my feigned worry was a big enough hint to them that I really expect them to be present and ready to work at the time we agree to, and worry when they are 30 minutes late. Am I being unreasonable? I mean, if they are 30 minutes late the first week, what will it be by week 6? I feel African time may be an excuse in the villages, but not in a professional situation in town!

Hmmm... okay... my rant is done. My update can now begin...

This week we did a couple days of visiting farmers outside of our study areas to practice our survey and interviewing/ translating techniques. We still have some bugs to work out, but I think we should be okay. It is hard work translating, especially when I want to know the details of what people say rather than just the general gist of it.

Here is a woman standing by her three stone fire, which in her case is just three mounds of clay. She is 78 years old, her husband is 97, and they are of the Bukusu sub-tribe of the Luhyas, who have some pretty big traditions about using the traditional three stones. This woman herself doesn't follow/ believe in them ("because she is saved"), but many people still do. For this group of people, the three stones each hold meanings- the one closest to you is for the husband, and is removed when he dies (replaced with a smaller one). One of the back ones is the wife's (removed when she dies) and the other one is for the kids (never removed). Also, if a wife has a disagreement with her husband she will remove his stone or disrupt the hearth in some way and leave the household. If the husband wants to reconcile he will have to find her (usually at her parent's place), then bring her back, slaughter a lamb in the presence of friends and family, and place the stones back together. The slaughtered lamb washes away the sins of the woman (I asked, does the man ever have sins to be washed away?), which apparantly were to do with destroying the hearth (which is like destroying the family it symbolises), so after it is killed people can again eat food made on the fire without fear of some curse falling on them. There are many versions of this rough story, varying slightly with some tribes, and not present at all in others (so it seems). Also, if a man would want to put curses on people he would sit on 'his' stone, and utter them.

A variation on the three stones- trying to conserve fuel by blocking off two of the openings. This one was set in a chimney/ fireplace thing. WE found that a lot of people wanted to know how to build more fuel efficient stoves, but in this area the barrier was simply a lack of knowledge.

Ann Biwott, my friend Sarah's mom, has been using this deluxe Chepkube chicken brooder stove/ oven for two years. She has taught many friends how to build one and only charges 500KSh to do a whole day's work to construct one for them (including materials). That is about $8. A great deal for people that purchase wood. She is standing with the fuel she thinks she uses in a day to cook food for 10 people. She is most pleased with the savings she gets in fuel consumption as well as how well she has been able to raise chicks for market. This model has three or four burner spots, an 'oven' where food keeps warm, and a large area underneath to keep the chicks warm.

An example of another advantage to her stove- if someone doesn't have a thermos to store tea in, they can keep it warm in a kettle on top of a covered cookign hole.

Here's me! My first picture in Kenya this time around!

Trip to Mt. Elgon

Mount Elgon. Those words send shivers up the spines of many people living around here. Because of Mount Elgon there is a curfew on the town of Kitale (7pm to 7am), because it is suspected that some of the rebel militia have taken refuger here. The key rebel leaders have all been killed, and most accomplices arrested or fled to Uganda, others are suspected to be 'hiding' in this town. (don't worry... everyone feels quite safe, and I personally would never be in danger because of this...)

For me, Mount Elgon is a place where I spent a very enjoyable five weeks two years ago (see previous posts). I found the people generally friendly, and loved visiting schools and community groups doing various kinds of education (mainly health related).

Shortly after I left two years ago, a fellow by the name of Wycliffe Matwake together with a band of other men decided that they would take matters into their own hands and start forcefully evicting people from their houses and land, which they believed were rightfully theirs. This is the same story that has happened all over Kenya following the general election of December last year, but the chaos started much earlier up the mountain. Even when I was there I recalled seeing for the whole month line ups of men outside a government office waiting to hear what land they had been assigned. Basically it seems like the government had botched up a lot of things in terms of land ownership decades ago, resulting in a lot of confusion, bad feelings, and ultimately the break up of communities from here to Nairobi. In this case, though, it was a matter of people fighting within themselves, not some neighbouring tribe.

The problems in the mountain started close to the forest in August 2006, and by March of 2007 had reached Kopsiro, where I had stayed. By problems, I mean this local militia forcing familes to give one of their sons to them as a recruit or else be chased/ burned etc from their home, or killed. I also mean them demanding protection taxes from people that had an income (ie teachers, officials), so as to not burn them out so quickly. I also mean them stealing cattle and other belongings,and killing people that would not comply.

The government army folks sent in were not any better. They killed cattle, people, stole, tortured suspected accomplices and burned buildings as well. People from that area fled to lower down the mountain for safety.

Taking refuge in Kapsokwony, the district headquarters town where I visited them this weekend, was not even a permanent fix for many of them. They told me stories of moving to Kitale, Eldoret, Webuye... further than many of them had been in their lives, to find solace at other places. These are the first internally displaced peoples that I can call friends.

Once the election results came out, it was no longer safe, or no longer felt safe (in the case of Kitale, which actually remained peaceful, although filled with tension while everywhere around them saw chaos) to stay where they were, so they returned to Kapsokwony where I found them now. Peace is coming back to the mountain, so most are now making plans to return to Kopsiro and its environs to try to rebuild houses, farms, lives, and community.

The people I know from this place are all pastors and their families. They have a different perspective, I'm sure, than others. From the mouths of people who have had all their belongings stolen, been kept awake by gunshots throughout the night for the past year, and need to face the reality of returning to a community that has recently added dozens and dozens of widows and other grieving people, come the words "This all happens for a reason. God is good. He must have a plan for us all." Mungu ni mwema. God is good. All the time. These are words that are tossed around glibly by most church-going Kenyans. How many have been put in a position to test their faith in those beliefs? Have I? Never!

I am humbled, saddened, and yet somehow hopeful. These pastors and their wives talk about the great role the church has had already and will have for a long time into the future in restoring peace and reconciliation in the community.

For now I can do little except stand beside them, pray with them, and give some money to different organisations working there to help ease the physical hunger felt by people in this farming community who are now facing a horrendous food shortage. They have been unable to plant this year, and last years crops were destroyed.

"We are now in dire straights" one man told me "for the first time in our lives we are forced to purchase everything we need to live".

p.s.- I forgot my camera! So sorry, no pics!

Climate Changes

Question: How do you make a fairly eco-conscious Canadian girl feel REALLY uncomfortable/ mad/ frustrated/ ashamed (etc....)????

Answer: ask her to present and moderate a session on 'How climate change affects development, and how development affects climate change'.

Wow. The answer to the question "how does climate change affect development?" is basically "the changes to the environment due to climate change flies in the face and thwarts all efforts to make postive change in the lives of the world's most marginalised peoples". The question that was not asked, but who's answer was brought up again and again was "who contributes the most to the production of greenhouse gases which cause climate change?". The answer to that, of course, was in a large part Canada and the US (if taken on a per-capita basis). I felt about as big as the period you can see on this screen. Way to go Canada. I knew we were in a bad shape compared to the rest of the world, but preparing for this talk really made me see just HOW badly off we were. Since 1990 we have increased per capita GHG production to the point where we are on par with the US. The difference is, we signed the Kyoto accord saying we would DECREASE our 1990 levels. At least the US did not make any such promises.

The answer to the question "How does development affect climate change?" is, simply put, "the more developed a country gets, the more it contributes to climate change, because consumption increases". No one can deny a country like Kenya the opportunity to 'develop' even while they are desperately trying to come to terms with the changing climate due to the rest of us 'developing' a hundred years earlier, but boy, did I feel awkward for being the sole representative of a society that modelled 'development' in such an unhelpful way, environmentally speaking.

While Canadians may be trying to deal with climate change by reducing the amount they drive, turning off lights, or adjusting their diet so that less 'food miles' are required to make their salad, these people are talking about other mitigation measures. Plant more trees. Use more mulch. Plant more drought-resistant crops. Diversify.

They can't make their carbon footprint much smaller if they want to survive, which for most people around here is a daily struggle anyways.

On behalf of people feeling the pinch of what our consumerist thirst for oil is doing to prices of maize, wheat, rice, and kerosene (for cooking and lamps to do homework by), which by the way is more than doubling some of them, please consider how your next purchase or trip has affects on those people in the world that are least able to deal with climatic and market changes.

To smile or not to smile...

I partnered up today with a more experienced enumerator who was surveying people in her area to determine the impact Vi Agroforestry has had over the last few years. As we were waiting for a vehicle to pick us up again (we were part of a team... first all dropped off at seperate locations, then later all picked up again in the big land rover), I saw a nice scene I wanted to capture on camera... a typical little village in front of a beautiful back drop of the Cherangany Hills and its farms in the background.

It was only after I clicked that I realised the three men standing at the crossroads did not look pleased at all. It dawned on me moments later why... as we continued down the road past the buildings I had photographed it became apparant to me that I may have inadvertantly taken a picture of the very men that had chased the occupants out of the burned and abandoned butchery, hair dresser, corner store, cafe and kiosk that made up the tiny center. I wonder where they go now to buy things, as all the shop keepers (mainly the Kikuyu tribe) had obviously been made not welcome (this is the nicest way possible to describe what must have taken place here a few months ago!)

While out in another village, we stopped the car for a bit to wait for others to join us. Soon, the group of school kids outside loitering around eating sugar cane grew from five to about 30. They all just formed a big group and stared both shyly and intently at the same time. Finally, I felt a bit unnerved, and leaned out the window to talk to them. "Hello"..."How are you?"..."do you like school?"..."What subject do you like?" (my swahili is still sort of limited, and it's always awkward for me to talk to groups of chlidren I don't know...)

Then, finally, a crowd pleaser "would you like me to take your picture?"... ah, yes, finally, smiles all around!!!

Stoves

I have spent two days this week visiting shambas (small farms) and seeing inside of women's kitchens. This, I'm sure, will continue for the next 7-8 weeks, until I am finished my research. My research is basically asking the question "what factors influence someone to use a fuel-efficient stove?". The most popular fuel saving stove here is the Chepkube- made of bricks surrounded by mud, and fashioned completely different for each woman. I was most surprised by the diversity of stoves.

Here is Violet, a pioneer in her area in terms of Chepkube use. She built hers three years ago. Her community has almost no Kalenjins in it (the tribe normally associated with this stove), but the stove is growing in popularity partly dut to her anyways. She arranged for me to meet three other friends who were in the same 'group' as her (people around here are arranged into formal or informal groups, where they share information about health, farming, and life in general. Often they have a purpose like chicken raising, but they discuss other things, ie HIV/AIDS too) who also have made their own Chepkubes.

A basic feature of a chepkube stove is an oven, which is not found on other fuel saving stoves that I have seen. They say that you can cook food in the morning and retrieve it, still warm later that evening. Violet's stove also has a brooder compartment underneath where chicks are kept.

Violet is an inspiration in other ways as well. She has a 0.1 acre plot, and amazingly, has managed it so successfully that she has been able to build a permanent house (i.e. made of bricks, not mud and sticks) and buy another 0.5 acre property elsewhere. Part of her success is due to having six dairy goats (goat milk is especially good and in high demand for people with HIV/AIDS... also as an alternative to breast milk, I think(?) for babies of HIV positive mothers). She also grows her own fuel wood, has many fruits, vegetables, a cow, and lots of chickens. The stove helps in her chicken-rearing enterprise as well.
This is Dorothy. She is holding the piece of kuni (firewood) that her stove consumes in a week to feed her large family. Together with that one piece of wood, she uses sawdust purchased at 45 cents for a month's supply. The wood is from a couple small trees she cut in November, and she expects that she won't need to cut any more trees until the following November. I don't know, but the sawdust innovation may be hers alone. I've not heard of it elsewhere, though the idea is beginning to spread throughout her community.

Different women customise their stoves in different ways. This one had different colours of clay used. Even though it is dark inside (the holes in the wall above the stove are for light), the stove was still very pretty.

Other women molded designs into their stove/ovens. The woman who owns this one is Kalenjin, so has been using the improved stove since she got married 30 years ago. Although she kept chickens, up to 100 chicks at a go, she did not build the brooder option into her stove. For her, she finds moving the cardboard box full of chicks closer to the stove in the nighttime suffices to keep them warm.

Here is a pic of two chicken 'coop' things- one for each size of chick, as well as a box for the smallest chicks. While I was there she lifted the baskets to let the chicks escape to scrounge for food in the yard. I was amazed they could find their way back again to the right basket!

Weekend pics

Saturday I went to visit my friends Kefa and Matildah and their family of three boys and an orphaned girl they took in. I got to know them the last time I was here. We had a good time catching up, drinking ugi (a thin sour porridge made of maize and millet that I love), and walking around the garden. This is Matildah showing me the traditional vegetables and beans that she has interplanted with maize on their small shamba. 'Traditional vegetables' is the catch-all phrase for anything leafy and green that needs to be cut into tiny strips and cooked in order to be edible. The most common is sukuma wiki (collard greens, similar to kale), and after that is pumpkin leaves, bean leaves, black nightshade, and a range of other things with local names- sujaa, saget... I don't mind most of them. One turns my stomcah upside down because it is so bitter, but if I happen to get a scoop of it by mistake, at least I know it will be good for boosting my blood cell count (great for people like this family who are HIV positive).

A couple pics of their new pump they installed. For about $80, they were able to have the bore hold dug, buy all the materials, and have a fundi (handyman) construct the thing. It takes one person to crank the wheel, then another to postition the bucket under the spout made of an old water bottle.

Sunday I visited Chege and Lois. I had spent quite a bit of time with them last time. I think two years ago I posted a fuzzy picture of them by a pile of bricks they intended to make into a house. Well, now this is them in front of that house! It isn't complete yet- just the structure is there- entirely made of bricks and cement (the bricks were made out of soil from their property. They hope that they will be able to finish it and move in with in two years. Chege is the dean of students at ICM as well as a pastor at a local church. They have three children- a daughter at boarding school (13 yrs), an 11 year old son and a 2 year old daughter, who was born when I was here last time. They also have a girl living with them to help them out with housework and babysitting.

This is just a random picture showing how hard money is treated here. Below is a new bill, and above is one that has been passed around by a hand or two. The material is strong- people (including me) often fold or ball it into tiny packages, like you see to the side.

Mornings

The mountains- Cherangany hills, I think, in the distance. I love this misty early morning view.

More early morning mist, this time taking in a bit more of the ICM campus.


Yesterday as I was getting ready in the morning I heard a rustling outside the window... the cows had come to trip the grass. Mental note: beware of cow patties when running in the grass at dark!
Some gardens outside the radio station. Gorgeous. This area is fairly rainy compared the the rest of the country, and the gardens do well.
A road full of puddles and ducks after a particularly rainy night. This is taken just outside the ICM gate, on my morning walk to town.

Evening pics

Some pictures of my evenings...

Here is the view as I leave the Vi Agroforestry compound... boda-boda bicycle taxis, a bright just-after-the-rains look to all the trees, and red, red earth!!

Demonstration plots of different types of tomatoes. Each has a sign showing how much the seed and inputs cost, what type they are, and how much they expect to earn from harvesting them. This is all for education for local farmers, but the project is trying to be as sustainable as possible, supporting at least the site staff's salaries from the proceeds of their 5 acre garden.

a tractor and plowed field at the other side of town, close to where I stay

A cool set of spider like agave(?) plants, right at the bend in the road to ICM where I stay.

Eating out at a little 'hoteli' with some students I knew from my last trip to Mt. Elgon