Can there be justice, will there be peace?

Last Monday, at 1.30pm, we joined millions of Kenyans who were glued to TV screens around the country. We were watching the televised announcement that the International Criminal Court in the Hague would take six top Kenyans to trial...

Four years ago...

27th December 2007 should have been a peaceful day of democracy for Kenya, as its people went to the polls for the General Election. Instead, as you probably know, it became the start of months of violence, protests, ethnic conflict and tribal politics which left over 1,200 people dead and 600,000 people displaced from their homes.

The “Post-election violence” (as everyone now refers to it) is ingrained in the consciousness of the Kenya Helen and I now see. A country many people in the UK probably only knew about as a safari destination, a country (in African terms) that was peaceful and stable, had suddenly descended into chaos. Our Kenyan friends, colleagues and neighbours talk with sadness, disbelief and outrage about the depths to which Kenya sank in this time…

And now this is back sharply in focus, as Kenya approaches its next General Election (date TBC – probably December). But while the post-election violence has been a near-constant feature of the news and political landscape during our time here, I’ve been struggling to get my head around what actually took place in 2007/8 – what were the events, the facts, the causes?

So what actually happened?

The violence began as clashes between supporters of the two rival presidential candidates - Raila Odinga and (sitting President) Mwai Kibaki – after the disputed declaration that President Kibaki had won the election amid accusations of major vote-rigging. But it soon snowballed into a bloody round of score-settling and communal violence. Non-violent protests by opposition supporters quickly turned into violent rampage in response to police shootings of demonstrators.

The situation quickly became about tribal rivalries and ethnic violence. Tensions in the Rift Valley – a Kikuyu area, Kibaki’s tribe – swiftly boiled over. The peak of the violence there saw the killing of over 30 unarmed civilians hiding in a church on New Year’s Day (the doors were barred and the church set alight). Some of the Kikuyus engaged in retaliatory violence against groups supportive of Odinga, primarily Luos and Kalenjin, especially in the areas surrounding Nakuru and Naivasha (about an hour west of Nairobi). Meanwhile, the slums of Nairobi saw some of the worst violence, some of this ethnically-motivated attacks, some simple outrage at extreme poverty, and some the actions of criminal gangs. The violence continued for months while efforts at a political settlement struggled onwards, leading eventually to peace talks mediated by Kofi Annan and the formation of a Coalition Government with Kibaki as President and Odinga installed in the newly-created post of Prime Minister.

Let’s jump forward four years, to January 2012. And I’ll explain why I’m talking about this now.

Last week was billed as a Big Week for Kenya, as the International Criminal Court (ICC) finally held its Confirmation Hearings on the cases of six alleged ring-leaders of the post-election violence. The suspects are Uhuru Kenyatta, son of the first post-independence President, current Deputy Prime Minister, and aspirant to the Presidency at the next election. Also William Ruto, an MP, former minister and another man running for the Presidency. Henry Kosgey, another MP and former minister. Francis Muthaura, current Head of the Civil Service. Hussein Ali, former Chief of Police. And radio presenter Joshua arap Sang. Importantly, the ICC had chosen three each from Kibaki’s allies and Odinga’s, aiming to make the clear point that it was “six of one and half a dozen of the other”.

Together, they are accused of orchestrating crimes against humanity including murder, torture, persecution, forceful eviction of people, rape and other sexual offences.

As we all waited with baited breath in front of the TV screens, the announcement was made… Four of the six were confirmed for trial, including Kenyatta and Ruto.

But here’s where, for me, multiple disbeliefs really kick in…

Disbelief Number 1

It’s four years since the violence. Four long years. 48 months. A long time. And the ICC has reached the stage in its deliberations where they have decided to go to trial. This is the beginning of the trial process. They remain merely accused, they remain innocent until proven guilty. And my favourite – they can appeal against the confirmations (and have decided they will). That means they can appeal against being formally accused, and the legal process can be stretched out even further! The trials will certainly go on for years, and long after the next general election. Meanwhile the lives of witnesses, victims and seemingly the whole country feels like it’s on hold. It's hard not to think of the hundreds of thousands of people still living in pretty horrendous conditions in IDP camps (Internally Displaced People) who are still unable to return to their homes.

I love the ideal, the vision of International Justice. Ever since I visited the ICC during my MA studies, I’ve been slightly in awe of it. But awe is swiftly overcome by the practical difficulties of making it happen. And four years to reach the start of a trial seems, frankly, utterly ridiculous...

Disbelief Number 2

How on earth is it possible for two men who are on trial at the International Criminal Court to still both be running for the Presidency of their country, and standing a pretty good chance of getting elected?!

Fine, I get the “innocent til proven guilty” bit – although honestly, everyone seems pretty sure they did everything they’ve been accused of. But even so, mere accusations of impropriety are enough to end the political careers of British MPs. Or American Presidential candidates. Or look at Dominik Strauss-Kahn, former Head of the IMF and front-runner for the French Presidency – now found ‘innocent’ of the charges against him, but it’s much too late for him – his career’s over.

Not for Kenyatta and Ruto. They say the ICC confirmations have no bearing on their presidential campaigns. They’ll run anyway. Never mind that they are both young men and that the logical, honourable thing to do would be to step down and say “I’ll run again in five years once my name is cleared”. Nope. It’s now or never when you’re power-hungry and ambitious. 

A late addition to this post - since I started writing, Kenyatta has stepped down as Government Finance Minister. But he remains as Deputy Prime Minister (it's a political position, not a public office, so it's OK?!). And, shocker, he's reiterated that he will continue to run for president...

More irony: The ICC hearings have unsurprisingly been big news here all along, and what that means in practice is that there has been rolling news coverage of these faces on every TV in the country. For months. In a country where TV is still a relatively expensive luxury, these would-be-presidents have had almost constant TV coverage. Their rivals couldn’t afford the kind of face-time they’ve had. It doesn’t really matter what’s being said about them, it’s exposure. See, my cynicism is really showing through now. This is utterly bizarre to me.

Kenyatta (right) and Ruto (left) at a rally this weekend.

What do Kenyans think about all this?

We know some pretty awesome Kenyans, and I think it’s important to know what they think about all this. Reactions thus far have included…

“Honorable leaders would stand aside until they had cleared their names.”

“It’s like an adult accused of abusing a child then asking, and being allowed, to adopt a child.”

“Kenya is a bad country. I wish I could leave. Our leaders have no morals and no ethics.”

Some Kenyans simply feel that ‘international justice’ is not possible for Kenya. They feel ashamed that their country is “washing its dirty laundry” in the glare of the world’s spotlight. Shouldn’t these people face Kenyan justice in Kenyan courts? And what of the others involved in the violence? It certainly wasn’t just six people.

But the ICC process is important, because it is supposed to declare an end to a long culture of impunity for senior politicians in Kenya. I’ve got to say that it doesn’t really seem to be delivering much in the way of justice so far. And speaking of impunity – some here feel that the six ICC suspects are mere scapegoats for those at the very top, who steer well clear of any blame.


Of course, the biggest question of all right now is “will it happen again?” As the General Election approaches, do we fear the worst?

Of course not! Kenya is an extraordinary country, beautiful, diverse and ambitious. The post-election violence shocked and terrified Kenyans, and almost everyone is determined it will not happen again. Since those dark times, the grand coalition government has struggled onwards despite political and ethnic rifts, despite its dysfunction (who knew coalition governments could be a challenge?!). Peace and reconciliation processes have been taking place country-wide. A brand new constitution has been written, passed into law, and is in the rocky process of implementation. Its fundamental values are transparency, progress, good governance and a spirit of “One Kenya” aimed at ending decades of corruption and inter-tribal rivalries. Last week, despite fears that the ICC announcement would trigger violence, all was calm. And everyone we ask says “No, this election will not be like the last – it will be peaceful”.

I could equally tell you that this country has terrible leaders, endemic corruption, serious insecurity and awful poverty. But I prefer optimism, which is after all probably the most quintessential of Kenyan qualities.

Please, please, for Kenya’s sake let it be peaceful. 

These are all by 'peace graffiti artist' Solo7 in Kibera slum, Nairobi. Read more at http://artistsactivists.org/?p=240

That January Feeling

January happens when you least expect it.  One moment you’re socialising, eating, singing Auld Lang Syne and then BAM.  Very suddenly, you’re back to work, broke, cold and remembering the heady days of December when an early payday seemed like the greatest idea ever.  It’s the same in Kenya, apart from the cold. December was the time for eating and drinking more than usual, and if not on presents, you’ve spent all your money travelling up-country to see your extended family, and treating them all to a bit of meat.


January is the height of summer in Kenya, and also brings with it a brand new school year.  After a month off, the kids are back to school needing clothes, books and if they’ve just graduated Standard 8 (at age 14), they’ll also need school fees. The average Kenyan family has little (read: no) disposable income, and this time of year can be crippling anyway without a large annual fee they may have never faced before.


Many of us VSO volunteers have been asked for money for school fees at least once; often from women we barely know.  It must be tough to budget for kids in consecutive fee-paying years (some have kids in Forms 1, 2, 3 and 4) when you earn so little to start with.  Family planning wasn’t a consideration for these women, or certainly they didn’t get a say in how their children would be spaced out.  No wonder so many kids drop out after free education ends at 14.  Kenya might be hitting one Millennium Development Goal in 2015 (universal free primary education was re-introduced in Kenya in 2003, and it’s a great step forward for Kenyan literacy levels), but it’s tough for most families who try and continue that promise.  And it still doesn’t give us a good enough response to, ‘You sponsor my child?’


At the other end of the social strata, a Nairobi sight in January is Kenyan business men in sharp suits and shiny shoes wedging into dingy buses all over town, because they just don’t have the cash to fuel their car this month.  They squeeze into my matatu, wearing designer glasses and a bling-bling watch, and glance around the grimy interior at the peeling stickers with half-readable ‘inspirational’ quotes, with a look on their face says, ‘What am I doing here?’, almost exactly like I did, 6 months ago when I was new in Kenya.  Well, apart from the bling.


Which brings me to my point: 2012 has brought a very unusual January in our lives, so That January Feeling is different this year. 

Let me explain.  Imagine us -

Feeling sad that Christmas is all over, but REALLY sad.  I feel a bit grumpy in a UK January to be back at work having gained a few pounds, but my Christmas holidays rarely contain as much fun as they did this time. When friend Matt flew back to the UK on 5th January, he said he was sad that his 3 week trip was over, and to be leaving the warm climate behind.  But Dan and I had the wonderful feeling of our adventure isn’t ending!, because we were staying in Kenya and there was more fun to be had.  If only every new year could feel so ripe with possibilities!  But that feeling wore off very quickly.  It’s a sharp contrast between the warm waves of the Indian Ocean and the frustrating daily realities of our normal VSO existence.  This life brings with it such dizzying highs and crashing lows, and as a result our moods seem to be all over the place.  Not helped by...

Feeling angry at Things I Should Be Used To By Now.  I might be giving myself a hard time, but shouldn’t I be used to EVERYTHING after almost 7 months?  But being pointed at, yelled at in the street (‘BABY!’) and being constantly approached in all public places just for being female, white and on my own is getting to me.  There are idiots in every country, and here in Kenya they all fancy their chances of chatting up a white woman, getting her contacts and then joining her in Europe/America where they’ll live off her vast wealth and never have to work again.  Why would she be walking here without her husband, if she wasn’t looking for a Kenyan man?  I used to think I was starting to enjoy being a celebrity here, but friends back home who know me as a ‘shameless self-publicist’ will be shocked to learn that I’ve now started to crave anonymity.  Lots of attention combined with long dusty commutes, grinding traffic, broken things and unexplained delays some days just grind me down.  It feels like the patience, flexibility, and thick skin I’ve built up last year is draining out of my scruffy shoes.  Maybe some things get worse the more you’re exposed to them.

Feeling excited about the next few months.  We’ve started planning more travels within Kenya and now beyond.  Confirmed work permits in hand, East Africa here we come!  It all starts with a weekend to Tanzania, as Dan and Eddie take part in the Kilimanjaro marathon.  We hope to also visit Ethiopia and Uganda before we leave, it’s just the challenge of fitting it all in.

Feeling like returning to the UK is a closer reality.  Turning the corner into a new year really makes a difference: it feels like we’re falling downhill to that big deadline in July (exact date TBC).  And mentally, we’ve now moved past it, making plans for when we’re back in the UK; namely to be at Dorney Lake for the rowing heats of the London Olympics, for which we’re lucky enough to have tickets.  It feels very strange to already be making plans in the UK, because for the longest time we were gearing up to go away, but with dates in the diary and July 2012 part of this year’s calendar, its inescapable: we’re coming home.  And with that comes....

Feeling like our adventure will be over too soon.  Taken all together, we’re having an amazing time in Kenya, and things here are still so new, there’s so much to see and do and achieve.  How can we only have a few months left?  We’ll be so sad to leave. We met some people the other day who are just now putting down roots in Nairobi, so when we said we were not leaving until July, the response came back, ‘You’re leaving already? I can’t believe it!’  ‘No’, we said ‘We’re only halfway through!’ but the impression was clear, that some people commit to Nairobi life, and others like us, are only really visiting.  I’m enormously lucky to have the support of my UK employer, and they’ll be welcoming me back this summer. So the only thing to do is make the most of the time we have left.  Our New Year’s resolutions are to: work hard, play hard, and not worry about a thing. 

Our Christmas in Kenya: A Retrospective

Well, this has clearly been a gap in the recent reporting of our lives here. The main reason being that, like we keep saying, we don’t want this blog to turn into a monstrously smug travelogue. But – I’ve decided our awesome, crazy Christmas in Kenya cannot go un-recorded. A large proportion of the awesomeness of our festivities is down to the people we spent them with, most notable being our great friend Captain Matthew Ball, slacker extraordinaire, who spent a whole two-and-a-half weeks with us in beautiful Kenya.

It should go without saying that Christmas also brought pangs of homesickness, thoughts of epic Jones family dinners, walks on cold crisp days, travelling the country in the lovely Bodhi (our car), and thoughts of much-missed friends (not helped by an uber-cute xmas card from our beautiful 9mth-old God-daughter Erin in a santa hat). But setting that to one side...

So, I don’t want to bore/depress/annoy our kind and loyal readers with an extensive essay on fun times. Instead, I’d like to briefly give you my favourite, all-time, top twelve moments of ace-ness from Christmas 2011 (I couldn’t get it down to 10). In vaguely chronological order, they go something like this…



1.  Hiking our way from our beach cottage in Vipingo along the beautiful Indian Ocean coast at low tide to the Kuruwitu community marine reserve, where we snorkelled. Seeing amazing fishies, enormous starfish, and afterwards, eating chapatti and beans. Then, it being now high tide, we waded our way back with our rucksacks on our heads and the water lapping at our chins. My favourite moment was receiving a text from our Kenyan snorkelling guide saying “Please call me if you need rescuing” – clearly he didn’t realise we have braved the black rocks and icy waters of many a cove of the British Isles! Warm bath water isn’t quite so scary. It’s the kind of adventure we only seem to have with Dr Ball.

2.  Walking on the beach on the morning of Christmas Eve – and being invited up to the cliff-top house of a Kenyan millionaire. Drinking beer at 10 in the morning on his terrace, while a pod of dolphins swam past. And hearing about how he and his wife had been to Buckingham Palace just the week before (his son-in-law was a Naval Captain and surgeon and had just been awarded a CBE – I hated him immediately).

3. “We make gymnastic with you now?”, said the topless, ripped Kenyan man to Matt as we sat at the Mtwapa beach bar. It was an offer he couldn’t refuse, and so Matt was dragged into joining the impressive gymnastic display. Hilarity ensued…

4. Being woken up on Christmas Day – as the mosquito net parted to reveal…Matt Ball in full Santa suit (brought specially from the UK) and carrying a sack full of cards and presents from family and friends back home!

5. Spending Christmas Day on a dhow (traditional Swahili boat) with great people, swimming and snorkelling in deep water. And eating a delicious lunch of BBQed fish and cold beer on a remote beach. Bliss. Highly reminiscent of the Red Dwarf Theme: “I want to lie, ship-wrecked and comatose, drinking fresh, mango juice, goldfish shoals, nibbling at my toes, fun, fun, fun, in the sun, sun, sun…”

6. Silly jumping in games. Yup, between several swimming pools and the big blue Indian Ocean, we succeeded in playing some serious water-bound games. I still haven’t managed to do an underwater handstand like Helen though. Or a somersault without getting water up my nose. More practice required…

7. Spoiling Matt (and ourselves) with a surprise xmas present of a posh lunch cruise around Mombasa island - complete with lobster and cold white wine. I know, it’s a nightmare being us…

8. Heading to a whole new part of East Nairobi – Komerock – for the birthday party of our lovely Swahili teacher, Lucy. Her husband Nick and their whole family made us so welcome, and we were surrounded by what seemed like hundreds of her children, grandchildren, sister’s children, children’s friends. And a whole lot of cake. And vodka. It was amazing. Asante sana Lucy na Nick!

9. More great people, this time for New Year at Camp Carnelley’s in Lake Naivasha. Thanks to all the VSOs (and their friends) for the pure comedy of the Name Game (we couldn’t resist!), and the high quality athleticism / increasingly drunken / aggressively competitive jostling of Round-The-Table Table Tennis.

10. Climbing the dramatic, volcanic Mount Longenot – the only way to spend New Year’s Eve. We’ve spent many a New Year’s Eve with Matt, hiking and climbing in the Lake District. This was something else. I’ve never seen a volcano that actually looks like a volcano, with enormous internal crater covered in rainforest, still-boiling steam vents, and pre-historic cracks, tears and rifts in the surrounding valleys where tectonic plates and lava flows have oh-so-clearly done their thang.

11. Mzungu Matatu! Throwing our volunteer credentials out the window, we decided to hire a matatu to drive us back to Nairobi from Naivasha. Normally we would have faced a pretty crazy, squashed matatu journey. But this way, we got to travel in style. Possibly the only time a matatu has been entirely filled with white people, we caused much amusement for our driver and tout, as well as pretty much every Kenyan we passed. It was well worth it to avoid the awful traffic and to stop for some great pics looking over the beautiful Rift Valley (birthplace of, y’know, homo sapiens).

12. Having more time than we’ve ever had before in the constant company of Matt Ball. He may be the ultimate sh*thead (and yes, we did play cards a lot), but he’s also a total dude. It was so good to have time for proper catch-ups and heart-to-hearts in amidst the “Vulcanology 101” explanations (complete with diagrams in the sand); the “Who can handle the ocean waves longest without drowning?” competitions; and the day of cycling amongst zebras and giraffes and managing to maintain enthusiasm despite horrendous hang-overs.

See, I totally avoided being smug about our travels or making you hate us! Oh wait…

With massive thanks to Matt, to everyone we hung out with, and to Kenya, for a truly once in a lifetime Christmas. While we missed our friends and family back in the UK loads, we couldn’t help but feel massively fortunate to have Christmas in this beautiful country. Bring on 2012! And may our lives be filled with crazy Christmases in amazing places. 

Keep calm and carry on

Posted by: Helen


Note: just warning the International Politicos amongst you that I’ll be simplifying a lot of the complicated transborder geo-political shenanigans going on here to keep things brief...forgive me.


This post has been prompted by the UK media reporting an increased terror threat in Nairobi, after the UK Foreign Office warned Brits to take extra care in light of a ‘potentially imminent terror attack’ in Nairobi.  Thank you to the many people who have been in touch to pass on this warning, and just check we’re still alive and stuff.  If I can find a positive in the situation of Kenya being under threat in its own ‘war on terror’, it’s that we are feeling much love from our friends and family in the UK.

So it’s time to blog about it, because you lucky people have correspondents on the ground in Nairobi, telling you what it’s really like.  If anyone has journalist contacts, just send them this link; I think I’d enjoy being that ‘anonymous blogger in a war zone’.  I’m kidding of course, because Nairobi is not a war zone.  Let me explain why the sudden terror alert reported by the UK media (and repeated by our loving friends and family) came as such a surprise.


A quick comment before we move on:  I'm about to talk about the security challenges in Nairobi, but please bear in mind that we could live in a city with pick-pockets, muggings, recent large scale terrorist attacks and a rioting public.  Or, London, as it's called.  Please remember that anywhere can sound scary if all you read is the security advice. 


So, what's been really going on out here?  Read on to find out...



The trouble with Somalia

In mid-October 2011, 3 months after we arrived, Kenya launched a military incursion into Southern Somalia, the country with whom it shares its Eastern border.  September had seen kidnappings of two Spanish aid workers from the Dadaab refugee camp by the Islamic extremist group Al Shabaab.  Kenya had for too long tolerated attacks from Somali terrorists and has struggled to host hundreds of thousands of Somali refugees, fleeing insecurity in their home country.  Somalia doesn’t really have a working government or much infrastructure, so weakened is it by decades of ethnic violence and this militant terrorist group that controls much of Southern and Central Somalia, imposing their own brand of strict Sharia law.  The Kenyan military engaged in military action on foreign soil for the first time in 20 years (and were soon joined by the Somalian, Ethiopian, French and allegedly US military): Operation Linda Nchi (Protect the Country) in pursuit of members of Al-Shabaab.


So who is Al Shabaab?  Meaning ‘The Youth’ or ‘The Boys’ in Arabic, Al Shabaab emerged as the radical youth wing of Somalia's now-defunct Union of Islamic Courts in 2006.  Now comprising over 14,000 militants, these are mainly illiterate young men, ruled over by a leadership who have been linked to Al Qaeda. The group describes itself as waging war against the ‘enemies of Islam’, by which brushstroke it paints all foreign organisations, including those delivering famine relief and humanitarian aid.  Organisations like the UN and Medicin Sans Frontiere have been targeted by Al Shabaab for both condemnation and violence.  As a result, it is too dangerous for expats to work there and these foreign agencies work through local relief workers.  Dan and I know a woman who manages the humanitarian aid to Somalia for Irish development agency Concern, but has yet to be allowed into the Somalian capital Mogadishu.  We met her because she has to be based in Nairobi, 300 miles from the Somali border. 

Nairobi under threat

A week after Kenya’s government announced it had sent troops into Somalia, on 24th October 2011, a grenade was hurled into a nightclub in Nairobi’s downtown on a Sunday night, and another at a matatu stage just round the corner, the day after.  Kenyan Al Shabaab recruit Elgive Bwire took responsibility for both attacks when he was arrested the next day, and sentenced to life in prison, following Kenya’s first criminal case to be concluded in 72 hours.

An obvious reaction to Kenyan troops marching into Somalia, these Al Shabaab-ordered attacks in Nairobi brought the whole situation closer to home, and several things happened at once:

• VSO called every Nairobi volunteer after the grenade attacks to check our whereabouts, were we alive?
• The British and US foreign office changed their advice to offer strict instructions against being in crowds, busy public places like bus stations or bars/restaurants frequented by foreigners. 
• There were suggestions that we should cancel any Christmas travel plans and sit in a concrete bunker for 2 weeks.
• With no CCTV in public places, security checks appeared very suddenly in front of every shopping mall, supermarket, office block, bar, club and bus.  Show the contents of your bag, and walk through a metal detector.
• Ordinary Kenyans suddenly felt the threat more personally.  The bombs did not target foreigners, they targeted a downtown club and a matatu stage. Egive Bwire had hoped to harm the local Kenyan population.
• Dan and I thought for the first time about our movements.  We often pass the matatu stage that was bombed, sometimes at night and sometimes alone.  It’s unavoidable, it’s the bus route to town!  We promised each other to be cautious without panicking.

Kenya at ‘war’

When we arrived in July last year, I would have perhaps described Somalia as ‘Kenya’s naughty neighbour’, but after the kidnappings, military incursion and bombings since we arrived, Somalia has become enemy No. 1 in the eyes of most Kenyans.  The ‘war’ is incredibly popular here; not only because the local population are scared of being blown up, but also because Kenya’s service sector contributes a whopping 63% to its Gross National Product, and it’s dominated by Tourism.  Kenyans know how badly the tourist industry was affected after the 1998 bombing of the US Embassy in Nairobi, and they know that both locals and foreigners need to be kept safe for the country to thrive.

The popularity of Operation Linda Nchi has been boosted by almost wholesale flag-waving by even the most critical media outlets.  It’s difficult to find out how the incursion is actually going, because this positive white-wash seems to come straight from the military’s own reports.  I know the importance of at-home propaganda to a military action on foreign soil, but the RELENTLESS reports of progress, success, lack of casualties and how well the whole thing is managed, rather jars with the usual healthy interrogation of government policy.




It is because of the Al-Shabaab


We haven’t blogged about all this before, because as the news had clearly not reached UK shores, there seemed to be no reason to worry our nearest and dearest when there was really nothing wrong.  But this month the UK media showed renewed interest in the story, when Londoner Jermaine Grant was arrested and charged in the coastal Kenyan town of Mombasa for possessing illegal explosive-making material and plotting to explode a bomb.  To our great surprise the terror attacks, war and threats to Nairobi were reported as if it had all just happened.


So with the UK media talking about a big fat terror threat, it's time to reassure you that really, we're fine.

Nairobi is the same.  The same jammed-packed, crazy, smelly and pot-holed city as it was before.  We got used to the security checks very quickly, although they seem cursory at best and if there’s only no female security guard available, I get waved right through.  My colleagues still grumble about high food prices, corrupt government officials and errant teenage children exactly like they did before.  But when events are cancelled, or traffic slows behind a police check, there is now a universal answer: It is because of the Al Shabaab.

I think the most difficult thing is that Nairobi was already a place with a base level of insecurity, so when we’re told to be even more cautious, we ask: how?  It’s become second nature to ignore the friendly men trying to rob us, to grip our belongings in the street, and to try and stay clear of big crowds in case they get violent.  How else are we expected to behave?

 

VSO passed on police advice that we should minimise the time spent in public places, avoid Nairobi’s downtown and don’t go to the bus station.  We asked: how are we supposed to get to work without taking the bus?  I imagine the average ex-pat can follow that advice, but not us - we’re trying to integrate, remember?  And this gig doesn’t come with private transport.  The security advice has now evolved into being cautious in areas frequented by expats – malls, restaurants, wealthy western neighbourhoods, so most of the time we feel much safer in our little Kenyan neighbourhood. 


So while we are exercising customary caution in Nairobi, nothing can detract from the amazing people and beautiful landscapes of this country, and to prove the point friends and family are piling on the Jonchard bandwagon, making plans to visit us in the next 6 months before we return to the UK.  This includes my Mum and Dad, who we look forward to seeing in March.


The security situation here in Nairobi is interesting, but it's really not terrifying.  VSO has 50 years of experience in yanking volunteers out of countries with true insecurity, and if there was anything to truly worry about - we'd no longer be here.


There are some real victims in this ‘war on terror’, and they’re are not us: they are the dead, the injured, the soldiers on the front line.  And most of all the people of Somalia whose lives are held hostage by decades of insecurity, a lack of goverment and Islamic extremists who won’t let them live in peace.  In comparison, Kenya is a stable, well-governed and brilliant place to be, and we feel very lucky to be here.

Hippos make a tasty supper

I’m at work, reading in The Daily Nation about a mother hippo who wouldn’t leave her calf when it got stuck on a golf course near a river in Nyanza Province.  Apparently it’s very painful for hippos to stay out of the water and in the daytime heat, but she wasn’t about to leave baby hippo.  The local residents all gathered around with knives, feeling blessed that the new year had delivered delicious free meat in this time of very high food prices. 

Someone calls the Kenya Wildlife Service (KWS), who are charged with protecting the animals by law, and they make attempts to move the mother back to the water without success.  They decide not to sedate her, just in case the growing mob use this chance to pounce and ‘reclaim’ their dinner.  KWS eventually rescue the baby hippo instead, and the mother is persuaded back into the water.  The locals were very sad that their blessing had been stolen from them by government officials.  Hippo 1 Locals 0.

I mention the story to my lovely colleague Ken sitting next to me, who goes into raptures about how hippo meat is the ‘sweetest’, tastiest thing ever.  Ah, so you must have eaten hippo meat in the years before the conservation laws were passed!  I say.  No, all the time  he replies, painting a picture of guys near his rural home who dig trenches to prevent the hippos from trampling through their crops.  Hippos are enormous, but with short fat legs they can’t escape the ditch.  The news travels fast apparently, and the whole community mobilise to claim the meat on a first-come first-served basis.  Ken has some handy advice for us:

You hit the hippo until it is dead, with hammers and sticks and rocks and whatever you can find.  Then the fastest people get the most meat.  Hippo skin is very tough so you need a sharp knife but the meat is so soft.  You must be careful to eat the meat the same same day or keep a vigil to protect it; KWS sometimes go house to house, and if you have the meat you’ll be arrested for poaching.

So now we know...    (Ken 1 Hippo 0)

Stupid things Mzungus do for charity

Dan and Eddie in training!

After much thought and peer pressure, I have decided that 2012 will be the year when I tackle a full 26.1 mile marathon for the first time. The Kilimanjaro Marathon on 26th February seems to provide a perfect opportunity, and I will be running it with my fellow VSO Volunteer Eddie Thomas (who I blame entirely for getting me into this mess). We have been training for a while but wanted to keep quiet about it until we were confident we would survive the experience! Having now toughed our way through some challenging training on Nairobi’s pot-holed, polluted, congested, hot, dusty, high altitude streets (perfect conditions, basically), we’re now 67% confident of our success. We’re hoping that our mere presence in Kenya will allow us to emulate the many awesome Kenyan runners the world has seen.

Circuit training on the roof of our apartment with Eddie and Allys - the secret of our success?

I will be using this opportunity to try to raise some money for Special Education Professionals (SEP), my partner organization here in Kenya. I really hope you will consider sponsoring me – even a small amount will make a difference to this small, awesome organisation. Read on to find out why, and how, you can help...

Having worked with them for six months, I can tell you without hesitation that SEP do fantastic work. They are improving the lives of children with special needs in low income areas of Kenya like the slums of Nairobi, as well as training young Kenyan special needs professionals to ensure a new generation of high quality care for children with disabilities here. SEP is an entirely volunteer-based organization – all of its Members are special needs professionals like occupational therapists, physiotherapists, teachers and speech & language therapists, and every year they are providing their time and expertise for free to change the lives of children in Kenya with all types of disability – physical, mental, hearing impaired, visual impairment, learning difficulties, autism, down's syndrome, speech and language problems - the list goes on.

They're also working hard to try to raise awareness about the crucial need for early intervention, monitoring developmental milestones and identifying the poverty-linked problems of disease, malnutrition and poor healthcare which lead to such a high prevalence of disability in the first place. Around 50% of all disabilities are directly linked to poverty. Although many disabilities are preventable given appropriate treatment, it is estimated that only 2% of the people concerned in Kenya have access to quality rehabilitation, basic services or schooling facilities. With around 2-3 million people living in Nairobi's slums, predictably, children in these areas are much more likely to have some form of disability...

I have seen first hand the difference their work makes when I have visited the slum projects – if you haven’t already, you can read my blogs about those experiences in Kariobangi and Kibera.

Like all small, start-up organisations, SEP struggles with the basics, and top priority is often finding funding to ensure our programmes can continue. I'm doing my best to help with that, while also trying to start them on the path towards being an official, professional NGO which can afford to employ paid staff to ensure continuity and structure. But in the meantime, every little bit of money really does help.

You can find out more about SEP’s great work on our website at www.sepkenya.com, or by becoming friends with us on Facebook at www.facebook.com/sepkenya or by watching our short video at http://youtu.be/O1zkWj9npnE. Here’s a few pictures of SEP’s work…

Beautiful boy playing with toys provided by SEP

SEP work with local carpenters to produce adapted chairs which ensure children with conditions like cerebral palsy can be positioned correctly, making feeding and playing much easier

Being welcomed to our project in Kariobangi slum. This chapel is where we provide therapy to children and advice and support to their parents

The SEP Team at our recent strategy day which I helped facilitate

Training session for young Kenyan special needs professionals

Workshop with children with special needs and their parents in Kariobangi

To give you some examples, here’s how a small donation could help:

*  500 KSh (about £3.70) pays for a day’s allowance for a young SEP Intern Member to be placed at a project in a slum area of Nairobi such as Kariobangi or Kibera. This placement gives them valuable practical experience working with children with special needs, while simultaneously providing children and parents in those areas with support they could not otherwise afford

*  1,000 KSh (£8-ish) helps to pay for a specialist book or DVD on conditions such as cerebral palsy, autism or downs syndrome to add to SEP’s Resource Centre, which is available for free to all its Members to support their learning and development as special needs professionals

*  8,000 KSh (£60) pays for a skills workshop for parents and caregivers of children with special needs to improve their knowledge of how to care for their child, position them, feed them, or stimulate their development and communication skills

*  10,000 KSh (£75) pays for a day’s training for young Kenyan professionals like recently graduated physiotherapists and occupational therapists, to develop their professional skills in areas like alternative communication, sensory integration, behavior management, or creating and using adapted equipment for children with special needs


I hope you may feel able to support me in some way, either with a small donation or by spreading the word about this event and asking your own friends and family to support us, or simply by encouraging me to keep up with my training! I realize some of you have already raised money for VSO themselves at our request – but any support, whether it be financial, verbal or moral – is massively appreciated!

Unfortunately, the whizzy world of online donation does not yet stretch to Kenyan organizations (there’s a job for someone!) so I’d like you to imagine that we’re back at school, and I’m grasping a tatty sponsorship form in my sweaty hand and looking up at you with 10 year old puppy dog eyes… 

If anyone feels able to support me with a donation, please simply email me or call me to let me know, and I will send you my UK bank details. You can make a quick online transfer, I withdraw the money here and hand it in to SEP. I’ll even keep a spreadsheet and everything, so hopefully you’ll trust me to deliver the money without trying to make a buck.

Asante sana (thank you very much) for your support. Watch this space for a blog post entitled “Runners (barely) Survive Uphill Struggle”.

Halfway

Posted by: Helen

Happy New Year to you all, we hope you all had a wonderful Christmas break.  We had a fantastic time with our friend Matt, travelling and celebrating Christmas and New Year along the way (pictures to follow soon).  Hoping the very best of things for everyone in this brand new year of 2012.

As January dawns it comes to pass that we’ve been in Kenya for 6 months.  Our year is whooshing by, and I’m sure time will only gather pace now we’ve turned the corner into 2012. But I want to stop for a minute and look back from this halfway point.  Reflecting on the last 6 months, it’s a whole jumble of Joys and Challenges.  What follows is a way of bringing order to some of these thoughts to mark this milestone of being halfway through.

On Nairobi

The joy of seeing and feeling the hustle and bustle of an African city on a daily basis (and surviving).

The challenge of getting anywhere when too many cars and people jam the city to a standstill.

The joy of a weekend in Nairobi, as the traffic thins dramatically and we can potter about with ease.
The pain of a suspected stress fracture in my foot from months of walking over a construction site on my way to work (x-ray showed nothing in the end, and I'm very happy in new, better trainers)

On South B
The joy of our neighbourhood, with its friendly people and community feel.

The challenge of a good night’s sleep on Saturday nights between the bar that blasts music until 4am, and the church that starts very loud worship at 6am on Sunday morning.

Street food
The joy of buying fruit, veg, samosas, chicken, chips and roasted maise from right outside our flat.
The challenge of saying no to the scruffy young boys that ask us to buy dinner for them every night.

Our building
The joy of the view from our flat over the city.

The challenge of climbing 5 flights of stairs to reach the flat in the first place.


Laundry
The joy of having our clothes washed for us by a local lady, Marietta.
The challenge of communication with our poor Swahili and her poor English.
The challenge of our clothes drying outside where the women make stew; our clothes always smell like meat.

The challenge of washing all our underwear by hand, every week (because it’s not done to outsource that, apparently).
The unexpected joy of washing all our underwear by hand, every week, because it’s satisfying and takes the length of a BBC Radio 4 Desert Island Discs podcast :-)

Being a VSO
The privilege of working within a Kenyan organisation, and being given the chance to share our skills to improve people’s lives.
The challenge of trying hard not to just ‘do’ things, but to hold on fiercely to VSO principles of training, sharing and leaving things behind.  It’s not about me, it’s about them.
The challenge of working in partnership when colleagues are busy, uninterested, absent or have many home-based pressures; when it feels like the chance you've been given to affect change is just slipping away...
The challenge of being employed to ‘strengthen’ and ‘build capacity’ for the longer term, when often giving food or money would give us a more immediate sense of achievement, and serve our conscience.
The sometimes longing for a ‘normal job’ with objectives, tasks and a clear sense of focus.
The challenge of working alongside Kenyan colleagues who behave in unexpected ways, and challenge my definitions of ‘work,’ ‘good practice.’ and ‘best use of time’on a daily basis.
The joy of working alongside Kenyan colleagues who teach me unexpected things, and remind me that family and friends are more important than work. 

Lunchtimes
The joy of my hearty working lunch that costs 30p.
The challenge of a complete lack of variety for lunch (a choice of chapati, ndengu (lentils), or chapati AND ndengu has almost killed this foodie)

Work-life balance
The joy of leaving work at 4.30pm, and 2pm on a Friday
The strangeness of there being less distinction in Kenya between ‘work’ and ‘life’; they overlap so much.  (At first I thought my colleagues were office-idle; now I know they will work weekends on a moments notice and give up their Christmas break if the boss asks them to, and without complaint.  I'm given time off whenever I want it, but I'm also always expected to be working...so how does THAT work?)

Exercise
The challenge of keeping fit in a hot, dusty, pavement-less city, especially when you feel like a target after dark.
The joy of our now-weekly circuit training on the roof of our building, led by Dan; four muzungus running up and down the stairs and lunging with bean-cans to the strains of Bruce Springsteen (much to our neighbours’ amusement).  We give thanks to a January in which it’s warm and light enough to exercise outside!

Friends
The joy of making new friends very quickly when you’re all away from home.

The challenge of only ever socialising with people you’ve known a few months.
The joy of hanging out regularly with lovely people in a new place that we’re all exploring together.

The challenge of being away from old friends and missing how well they know you and your quirks.

Travel

The joy of travelling to incredible holiday destinations just hours from our home.
The challenge of having limited time off to enjoy all the places we want to go.
The joy of residents’ rates at National Parks.

The challenge of playing down my western-savings-funded trips when speaking to my colleagues who struggle to pay rent.

Living in the tropics

The joy of a warm climate where even in the rain you’re never cold.
The pain of being bitten to death by mosquitoes and the craziness that takes us over when they all itch at once.

Being a Mzungu (foreigner)
The joy of being greeted and welcomed by a nation of friendly people.
The challenge of being asked: when will you come to my church? and, Can you take me to your country? and Can I have your contacts so we can hook up?
(OK, I’ll admit it) The joy of feeling like a complete celebrity when strangers target you for cheery greetings wherever you go, adults and children alike.

The challenge of being yelled at in the street and hassled everywhere we go. 
The annoyance of other bus passengers just 'checking' there's nothing in our back pockets, or being successfully pick pocketed by desperate people.

Language
The joy of using our basic Swahili to change the atmosphere and invite big smiles and warm handshakes.
The challenge of often not knowing what’s going on as colleagues, crowds and bus passengers blend Swahili, sheng/slang and their mother tongue language at high speed.

Learning

The joy of learning wonderful, funny things about Kenya and its people (educated women fetch a much higher bride price; in Swahili phones don’t ring like a bell, they cry like a baby).

The worry of learning the scarier things about Kenya and its people (corrupt police, mob justice, ethnic violence, and ignorant, harmful local beliefs)

Economy
The joy of getting by on a few shillings a day.
The strange feeling of knowing that most people only have that, and we have so much more.

Kenya
The optimism that comes from Kenya’s new constitution, new progressive legislation, and their hopes to be a middle-income country by 2030.

The cynicism that comes with knowing endemic corruption and massive social challenges mean this dream is still so far away.

Being here together
The joy of experiencing everything together; the support, the discussion and excited sharing of stories from our day.
The challenge of finding head space to support the other, in this jumble of joys and challenges.
The complete joy of knowing that even if it’s just us; we’re all we need.