Me

Me
So happy

Friday, December 25, 2009

Home now, changes and reflections

Hey everyone,

Gina and I arrived home at 440 or so on Christmas Eve, tired and ready to enjoy the holiday season. Since my last post there have been changes with the school program. Firstly, our guide to the camps, Izzo Macharia, could'nt calm the nerves of the teachers from the Elderot camp, i.e. they still felt threatned by Kimau at the Fumilia Narok camp. So, Izzo suggested that we wait for the completion of Southern Cross, a new school at the idp camp that is funded by Marafiki. I agreed to this because Izzo assured me that it will be mostly done by the end of January or shortly thereafter. The money already donated, and the money to come, will pay for the teacher's respective salaries when they teach at Southern Cross...so the money will go to further the education and empowerment of the camp residents.

Reflection

Kenya is racked by corruption and one can not go out at night without feeling vulnerable, for good reasons. It is frustrating that Kenyans keep electing the same politicians who divide tribes, inflame hatreds, then promote violence. I look forward to the prosecution of Kenya's leaders by the ICC-they are perpetrators of war crimes without a doubt.

Kenyans may well be the friendliest people I've ever met and they are strong and spirited in the worst of times, but they blame too much on the west and not enough on their corrupt leaders, their own destruction of their environment, their own decisions to take up arms. It is my humble suggestion that aid be distributed not through the government, but through competent ngo's and self-help groups at the idp camps and elsewhere. Aid should be given as microloans and other closely monitored and performance-dependent sources of aid. Simple aid gets pilfered by government officials as was the case when Britain's millions were stolen recently instead of going to the state's stumbling free-education program.

The trip renewed again and again my urge to help others and helped me see the underbelly of displacement, helped me become a better person and activist. Now, my work begins- I'll need to type up the data and use it to fundraise at WSU and beyond... Somewhere in Kenya, a women is prostituting herself to pay for her child's school fees, a child is dropping out of school for lack of money, a man sits idly by-a result of the countries abnormally high unemployment-let's think of them today and everyday and use that contemplation to promote resiliency in them and others in similar situations.

I can't wait to head back to Africa, she is in my blood.

Join the fight with me...

With hope,

Cameron

Monday, December 21, 2009

Last blog from Vumilia

Friends,

This is my last blog post from my home for the past 12 days. It's been an interesting experience to say the least. It has been characterized by dust storms, hours of interviews, cabbage and beans for lunch, animal symphonies in the morning and myriad friendly and curious people. It will be odd to not hear, "how are you?" from the sing-song voice of a child everywhere I go. I hope the data we collected amounts to something- I have faith in the generosity of the human heart, even while acknowledging the depths of selfishness and violence which raged in the country 2 years ago.

Last night was the first truly tense experience of my idp camp stay. Everyone here has messianic-esque hopes for us, for what we can do to help them-it's simply not realistic. Individuals confronted us all day about not visiting their "home", i.e. tent, because they were gone or because we simply lacked the capability or time to do so. To make the night worse, we were showing the soon-to be two new teachers for the camp's temporary school the supplies that we bought-black board, textbooks, chalk, and our neighbor, i.e. kamau basically threatened them and they refused to teach. Kimau hates the Elderot camp, i.e. where the teachers were from. He hates them, because he claims they are selfish and greedy, even though Kamau's camp has houses as opposed to Elderot's tent's-if anything, Kamau. our host and neighbor is the most jealous of the lot. His threats frightened them off and endangered our school project at the last moment. Take away message: donors hold off until we find two more teachers. This man's tantrum effectively soured my night and made me eager to leave the camp.

There is no doubt I will miss this place-the sheer beauty of it, the sometimes annoying friendliness of everybody, However, I am not and probably never will be an idp, I always had a plane ticket and an escape-the people here don't. What they have is bare rations, harsh inclement weather, numerous diseases, and little hope for adequate or any employment. Some here have risen from extreme poverty and violence to open small businesses at the idp, to band to gather and form youth groups and self-help groups, to work 9 hour days for 200 schillings at the local quarry or 8 hour days for 100 schillings on a farm. Some here are exhibiting Dani's favorite word: resiliency and taking their lives into their own hands despite the terrible lemons they've been given. Most here are simply waiting for fate to change her tone and how can you blame them? The majority have been displaced 2-3-4 times by violence. It would be hard to trust in solidarity if you have never known solice (I interviewed a lady who was displaced 6X yesterday).

Despite the odds, some of these people will get good jobs and will contribute to the more peaceful Kenya that they all long for. Most will continue to barely survive, the women will continue to prostitute themselves, and too many will die. This is a bleak account with a touch of hope that refuses to be silenced-the hope of the vast reaches of the human spirit.

I hope people back at WSU will look at the pictures and peruse the profiles, and sponsor a child's uniform or secondary fees, it could be the impetus for a changed life.

Today we head to Nairobi, tomorrow we fly home for Christmas. I hope the Senate doesn't vote for the health care bill when I'm on the plane home. I want to soak in its passage as an early Christmas present.

As I learn I get more hopeful. Here's to a new tomorrow.

Living the dream.

[Author's note: Every problem with the school was resolved an hour after posting this. The temporary school will start in two weeks with one teacher and several weeks with two teachers. I will check in on both teacher's lesson plans and attendence roles. Please donate to this wonderful new program!!!!!]

-Cameron

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Concerning suffering and hope...

“I used to be a teacher, but now…this”, Sammy Kavunga, an IDP from the Tumani Vision Self-Help camp, said this while gesturing to the ragged tents and barren land which he calls home. Gina, Ameer, and I spent all of Wednesday gathering interviews from camp members at Neema Self Help IDP camp and Tumani Vision, both of which are comprised of jerry-rigged tents of branches, tarps, and paper sacks. Both have sadly ironic names, e.g. “self-help group” when they are forced by violence, high unemployment, severe weather, lack of skills, and perhaps their own complacency to be admittedly dependent on “good wishes” of aid groups and their captors and saviors, the Kenyan government. Both camps featured people who tried to muster hope in us that our data will translate to increased donations, and microloans-I hope this is true.

It took around 3 hours at each camp to collect everyone’s data and to snap their pictures-many children were missing, either fetching water/firewood-if a woman or out to their grandmother’s for Christmas. Collecting data to aid future donation/microloan initiatives is hard, sometime monotonous work that is more than fulfilling. In the last 6 days, I have been able to do something that few will ever do: talk face to face to displaced persons, to enter their lives for a few minutes, to understand the human element at the root of violence and suffering-and I am a better person because of it. It is hard to fathom how a family of 9 could live in a squalid and incredibly small tent, often with animals. Gina remarked that she saw her grandmother in the 60-70 year old grandmothers who are not pampered, but are forced to sit on a black jerry can all day, idle, under the unforgiving Rift Valley sun. I saw too many children left alone in the dirt, appearing miserable, a young man cradling a broken soccer ball on his lap at Neema-melancholy

I digress, though there is suffering, hope always seems to permeate the most destitute of places. At Neema, and Tumani, a large number of kids said they want to be doctors, lawyers, teachers, nurses, and the most hoped for: Pilots. Steven Waweru, age 14, said he wants to be President of Kenya, specifically a good President. The children at these camps and the Amani camp hold out hope for a better more peaceful tomorrow. Near every child is going to school and many tell me they like math and English and social studies-these children are not yet lost to despair, through the help of the west and the stability of their own government, these kids can bring peace to their troubled political scene. Every adult I talked to wants to go back to their old businesses or back to farming, as is often the case, they don’t want to succumb to idleness as has been their lot. Furthermore, aid agencies have exhibited the epoch of human kindness. Habitat humanity came by the camp I am currently staying at, Vumilia Narok, celebrating their building of 3,000 houses in Kenya, including those at Vumilia Narok and Amani. Habitat brought food, hygiene supplies and promises of building more houses because of generous donations by Kenya’s central bank and the soft dr4ink producer Ribena (side note: Ribena is actually very good). I am heartened by the generosity of local aid groups and western aid groups alike.

After we are done at the camps, c. December 22nd, we will begin compiling a pdf containing stats, figures, full interviews, contact information, and etc from every camp member at 6/7 camps in Rift Valley. I hope this data will help Weber State STAND and Securus Via, amongst others, develop plans that will individually help these people lift themselves from extreme poverty, through education and skills training.

The days here are marked by dust and incessant sun and wind, but I am happy, I am where I should be- keep posted for the eventual posting of our research and more insights. Also, feel free to let me know what you want to hear about.

Saturday, December 12, 2009

"Little by little we've accepted"

Friends,

I've been at the Vumilia Narok IDP camp for 3 days now. I feel welcome, safe, and novel-people still call me Jesus and little kids still flock around us. It is beautiful here and apparently we are a few hours walk away from a solitary Zebra and a group of Gazelles. We've spent most of our time interviewing camp members and walking great distances. Last night we were taken on a walk that knocked me out for 15 or so hours-hours of walking that featured a Kikuyu house that was burned by the Masai during the post-election violence.A Kikuyu died in a senseless act of tribal violence.

For now, I'll record what I've learned from my interviews-bear in mind that I'm no journalist, i'm more concerned with finding answers than telling a story.

Cause of the conflict
-All camp reps that I spoke with agree that the Government, lead by PM. Ralia and President Kabiki (sp?) has fomented ethnic tensions, pitting one tribe against another

-Mbusua & Karinge, George, and G Wangombe, camp reps for Narok, Elderot, and Amani respectively, confirmed that land conflicts, i.e. lack of land titles, disputed tribal land claims, and government negligence in regards to land issues, are the impetus for election violence that occurs every five years.

-Wangombe claims that each tribe in Kenya lays claim to land of historic importance to them, hindering efforts to divide up land legally and increasing conflict.

The life of an IDP

-Children walk 3 km (+) every day to school- some 6 or so miles daily.
-Women walk 2 km to fetch water in heavy Jerry cans daily, men only do this if the women demands or if single

-Wood is around 6 km away and again, women are likely to fetch the wood

-UNHCR tents have largely been replaced by 20 X 16 ft. concrete houses that lack furniture, but provide protection against the wildly-oscillating weather.

-Most camp residents say that they are idle, dependent, and that they wish to return to their self-sufficient days-most blame the government

-Some camp members sell crops they produce on their small salinized plots of land, but rain doesn't come often and the plots are 50 X 100.

-Some residents walk well over 6 km to work for a small plot of land for a rich farmer for an 8 hour shift, in which they will garner 100 ksh or $1.50.

-The children seem bored, they sift dirt through their fingers and play "football" with wrapped paper-mostly they chase the goats.

Their dreams

-The majority of the residents i have spoken with are skilled in farming and wish for large plots of land to farm on-some others are more educated and wish to start businesses selling crops or other basic goods

-Nobody I have spoken with wants to return home-they are afraid and many of their houses were burned in the violence-many lack titles to their original land, a major problem.

-They want to be independent

Needs Assessment

-Education: A school needs to be built nearby the camps, allowing kids to concentrate on their studies and to advance above their positions-diversification of their skill-set is needed to make money in a drought-ridden area. School supplies are desperately needed. Education is the key to mitigating violence, reducing birth-rate, and improving the lives of the displaced [note: Monique has donated $6,000 for a school at the camp and Gina and I have purchased grade 1 textbooks and story books to start their textbook collection]

-Dental Hygeine: There are no toothbrushes/paste at any of the camps I have visited. At Armani I asked Wangombe, the camp Secretary, if people would use toothbrushes if available, he confirmed this. Brownish/black and crooked teeth are a problem here, tooth decay also exacerbates other medical problems at the camp

Irrigation: Drought has rendered the camps' humble crops largely obsolete-resulting in the constant withering of maize, beans, and tomatoes. The Amani camp seems to receive better rainfall, though the camp is just yards away from Narok and Elderot. Each camps would like to see irrigated water so that their crops would survive.

Individual titles: Camp members at each camp lack individual property titles. This is a problem because that camp member can't use his/her house as leverage to obtain a loan for business or any other use. Lacking individual titles puts him/her at risk to loose their house without legal recourse-a problem that helped spark past violence.

Health facilities: The nearest health facility is approximately 5 km away and is very basic. The clinic costs money, which many can't afford. Health care has been limited to a one-time measel shot by the government and the medications with volunteers from Marafiki INC has purchased-sickness abounds

Water supply: Water here is drawn from a well and is not subject to purification. Parasites are common in unpurified water, leading to malnutrition and generalized apathy.

*** Each camp expressed similar concerns and the aforementioned are the most emphasized. Concerns are simple, boredom and hunger permeate the camps.

NGO's active in the area

-Habitat for Humanity built their shelters
-The Red Cross provide immediate post-violence relief, including shelter and food
-UNHCR, the UN High Commissioner for Refugees provided food and the current tents at this location in Rift Valley
-JPPC (?) a Japanese company is working to provide running water for the camps
-Local Kenyan orgs help with food and other needs
-Marafiki INC, a group founded by volunteers such as myself in May, have purchased land, medications and are soon to build a school and a maize mill on the Narok land.

*** I am heartened by the passion and compassion of NGO's-they have saved many lives. The Kenyan government has also provided 35,000 ksh to each person to buy the land they are on and to provide food-they also bring shipments of food. Food shipments come anywhere from once every month to once every several months, Armani camp suggests the former, Nakarot and Elderot calims the latter- the truth is ambiguous.

-All camps say the government does "nothing" and is the cause and hopeful savior of their problems

Microloans: Mr. Wangombe from Armani plainly stated that he doesn't like microloans because they are forced to pick groups of 5 and he said that 2-3 of those are slackers. He would form a group if he could pick the participants and if it were a group of 2-3. He would prefer the money be given to him- I told him that would make an NGO uncomfortable-we agreed to disagree.

So much to write. This is simply a preliminary report-I have many more camps to investigate. Soon, Gina and I will be organizing a preliminary teaching program and story hour, as well as a soccer program and will be laying the grounds for a sponsorship program vis a vis census data.

Thanks for reading.

Cameron

Thursday, December 10, 2009

Like the Ganges

It's hard to comprehend how a setting so serene isn't as the Ganges, healing upon exposure

This place is wordless-not that there’s not any music, or singing, but the camp as a living, breathing, cohesive entity is beyond the finite capability of words. These people have not chosen to live at this camp which is resting solemnly in close juxtaposition to the Great Rift Valley-an expansive savanna. But I am soaking up their smiles; their warmth-it still sickens and flummoxes me to think that these same people were victims of an ethnically driven war not too long ago. So much work was exerted to get here, can’t believe it’s finally here. Gina and I bought textbooks for primary school children, soccer supplies and a great deal of supplies for us and for future volunteers in the region. I am nothing but smiles as my day comes to a close…And I awoke to a new symphony today-bleating sheep, braying donkeys, gargling goats-the staples of an IDP camp.

The most disturbing thing about this place is the near constant wailing of babies in the nearby shanty houses-I wonder if they cry for hunger or health as so many of them evidence signs of sickness. I was proud to wake up to the inverse UNHCR logo on our giant blue canvass tent, i.e. our home sweet home. There is enough room for Gina and I, but it is hard to imagine that whole families (and chickens) lived here not too long ago. Most of the camp residents now live in, as Gina put it, houses that look like shelters in concentration camps-I find it reminiscent of Topaz.

Our 1st night here was freezing, a bipolar swing from the 80-s and 90-s that have characterized this place. Izzo Macharia, our guide, gathered the camp leaders and made sure that we had the protection of the community-I hope that protection will never have to be called upon. So, starting today we will begin collecting data on each camp member, in order to aid agencies like marafiki who are trying to help these people- and to ensure that child sponsorship programs can ensue in the future-not to mention microloan programs, which I love dearly. We will also set up a soccer program with the 10 balls and myriad cones and other supplies we have-education and recreation, a hopefully potent mix to mitigate suffering. More than anything we are helping to pave the way for more effective aid work at the camp- an important and pressing endeavor. It is beautiful here-all of the hard work and money getting here was worth it-may we do some good.

ps: i am writing with the aid of safaricom wireless internet at the vumilia idp camp. so much to say and not enough time/money to say it. I am getting hungry here-not a lot of food, this will be an adventure!!


thanks to my followers online!


love from the idp

Monday, December 7, 2009

Upon being chased from a graveyard...and other stories

This is outside mama tunza's orphanage-the sepulcher where I taught in May


Poe would've had tears in his eyes...

I never thought I'd be chased from a Kenyan graveyard...

Yesterday was another laid back day. Two days from leaving to the IDP camp, 2 days until I get to volunteering and I can't wait. Don't get me wrong, I love soaking up the aesthetics. The cool breeze and palm trees never fail to add rhythm to the song in my heart-Kenya, it seems, is full of confused, beautiful songs. However, I'm not here to be a tourist or to gain some kind of philosophical arm-chair enlightenment-I'm here to serve and to listen. I digress, Gina and I got terribly lost on the Matatu, the Kenyan public transit. The rather assertive Matatu operators convinced us that we would indeed make it to the monkey park-ah the monkey park. Alas! Alak! we were taken to the national park, which costs a pretty penny and is gorgeous, but i've seen it before. This park was directly across from the most surreal graveyard that I have ever seen.

The graveyard was absolutely pregnant with small crosses and laterite soil-red as eroded blood. A strong breeze swept the soil to dust and blinded me-I was humbled. Gina saw a herd of wild animals grazing by the graves, an unusual site for the venue of tears and reflection. Being naturally curious, we approached to take pictures and observe. Soon we noticed that the family that was herding the goats was yelling at us and began to walk, then power-jog their way to us. We followed suit-albeit in the opposite direction. I think we offended them, who knew? We got away, unscathed, but I wonder how we ended up offending a group of nomadic herders!

Another day, another bribed policeman.

We rode the bus home from the graveyard and overpriced park (foreigners paid 20$, locals paid $3) and it was the average fare. Loud western rap, people hanging out the door, lots of odd gestures, lap-sitting and too many people-the norm. I noticed that the bus wasn't moving and the operators, as well as the crazy individuals hanging from the bus, started talking rapidly and fearfully. I thought that I heard that a milita set up a road block, so I ducked down-fearful that a militia drugged up on qat would kill us all. Instead, it was a cop. Cops in Kenya are not the police of Utah, i.e. are not the law-abiding write too many tickets public servants. Cops in Kenya, according to the man sitting next to me on the bus-and many other locals-are corrupt and abusive. The man next to me told me that nobody calls the police when they are victimized, because the police will rob and beat them-he said, "it is worse to be a woman" when going to the police office. The women are raped and otherwise assaulted [authors note: this would likely not be the case for a western muzungu like myself-a fact I hear from many here.]

This policeman made it clear that he wanted a bribe-somewhere between 500 and 1000 ksh, or about 7 dollars onward. I was told that bribing the police happened "every other time" the bus made a trip. The violations include hanging out the door and other minor violations that are only upheld when a cop wants a bribe. It is hard to imagine fearing and bribing Kaysville police on a daily basis. My traveling companion recognized this as an aspect of daily life and as part of a system that is designed to keep the corrupt in power.

Reflections

I have never experienced so many friendly people in one area. Kenyans have gone out of their way to be friendly and helpful. It is of little doubt that Kenyans love Americans-pictures of Mr. Obama line many of the walls of local business and houses. I feel as though my very presence is a representation of hope, of some connection to a land that is ruled by law-albeit a sometimes dysfunctional law. I am heartened by the amicable nature of these remarkable people-it is a tale of two cities-violence and the best of humanity.

Next time I write-i'll be at the idp camp!

Wish me luck.

-Cameron

***Photos provided by Gina Barker (many more to come).

Saturday, December 5, 2009

Ace of Base and the Fleshless Woman

Friends,

Firstly, I want to thank you for taking the time to read about my new volunteer trip in Kenya. I am sitting at the Jumorie (sp?) estates computer lab, enjoying a light, post-rain breeze, the kind of breeze that defies the worst of the stoic sun. My trip to Kenya has been both hectic and relaxing thus far. The flight here was a mixed-bag, Delta was unpleasant-the seats are far too close together, but Kenya airways was charming as usual. I had plenty of room and the service was impeccable-I recommend them for any African visit. Gina and I arrived at Grace's house(Grace is our host) at around 10 pm. I couldn't sleep...why? Ernesto Jack "the Shotgun" Mcmillion, i.e. the rooster who saturates the Nairobi night with his incessant and abnormally early crowing. Add in fighting dogs, car alarms, the blaring sirens of 3 am Islamic prayer and the myriad sounds that permeate the house-the creeking, the poor acoustic and yes the lack of sleep.

It was around 5 am, the aforementioned discord brushed the sand off my eyes and had me reading "shackled continent" an interesting book describing the foundation for Africa's woes. I was reading a chapter about militia violence when Grace entered the room and slumped unto her couch, crying. "James was shot dead" she said. James N. was her brother, the head of Fadhilli Community, the volunteer organization I went with last time I was in the country. James was a man who I talked to on numerous occasions- a man who devoted his life to service. I asked her how it happened. She said a group of "thugs" demanded money from him and that he gave it to them... They still shot him to death. I found out later that he had tried to bargain with the robbers. The robbers were spooked by a nearby car alarm and by the overhead lights-they shot James and fled. My inside source, whom I won't name at this time, said that James was being "stubborn" and implored me to give up all my money immediately if ever robbed.

Grace and her mother sobbed on the couch. Grace had little to say, despite, "I'm confused". This country is confusing, is startling and wonderful, but like a gorgeous fruit hiding a rotten core, this country has its secrets, its devils. This morning, 26 or so hours after the murder, Grace is pleading with me to help her find a way to leave the country. She kept repeating, "I cant stay in this country." She applied for a U.S. greencard a few times, but has been denied. I wonder how many "Grace's" there are in Kenya and all through out Africa-women who are scared for the lives of their children, of their selves, who can't leave. Kenya is as safe as any African country could be, but that means we are not in kaysville any more.

Yesterday, a few hours after the murder, Gina and I went shopping at the Masai market. This is a place where the locals sell their hand crafted wares and harass you until you buy them. I bought a fantastic necklace and Africa map and...Gina's backpack was slashed open. Somebody was trying to steal money while we were there-an attempted robbery and murder in the 1st day-what a poor start to this trip.

What else to say...Kenya still mesmerises me-the beauty, the politeness of the locals, the clash between modernity and archaic tribalism. Dance clubs and large banks line the streets while millions live in squalid conditions-it is a fascinating place. I hope I can make some kind of difference. We are buying textbooks for the new school that will be built at the Vumilia IDP, readying our soccer gear for the soccer tournaments we will set up-hope we can help improve the lives of people like Grace-people who loose their families to currents of violence.

In lighter news, a volunteer named Monique has donated $6,000 of her own money to build the aforementioned school at Vumilia. This is great news! Few displaced children will ever get the chance to go to school or to go back to school and now they will be able to. We now need to supply the school with textbooks, desks, pens/pencil etc. If you want to contribute to our new school project, please follow the instructions below. Every donation will buy a book, pencil, or whatever you want it to buy.

1) www.paypal.com
2) Click "send money"
3)Enter my email address: weberstatestand@gmail.com
4) Enter your credit information

Thank you all.

Follow Gina's blog at: http://www.wsusignpost.com/blog-1.109/19.634362?article116=18.372890&page116=User


This is it for now-I'll update this daily-if I can.

Regards,

Cameron