Meanwhile, over here...

12 cents off a pint?  Nah I still aint coming back. Budget 2010 is on the right path though. Throw a few more incentives like that my way and you never know…

It’s hot here today, the sun is high in the all blue sky, a few birds chirp in the dancing trees, kids play on the street outside with home made wheels and sticks, locals talking under the shade, mamma’s frying hunks of potato over wood fires, bikes heading this way and that. 

I sit in front of my fan, blowing cold air in my face drinking coffee and eating vegetable samosas. Its Saturday morning so I am reading The Irish  (My granny sends me a copy every week!) from a few weeks back and listening to Thursdays Today FM Drivetime podcast.  It could be HG Wells’s ‘The War of the Worlds’ I’m listening to it is so far removed from my small sitting room in Mnarani. 

In Work, we are preparing a plan for 2010, what we want to achieve, what is missing for us to achieve it, what is our strategy to achieve it, what are our are objectives for the year, how will maintain our relevance, can we make money from our activities, how much? It’s a bit hit and miss to put together a functioning plan, some people go missing or get distracted or are just worn out from the heat.  But it’s an important activity none the less.

Worlds away from budget deficits and billion euro cuts.

We continue to get more business groups and individuals coming to the office for business advice. A young women looking to open a cosmetics shop, a guy from Malindi who makes curios from coconut shells, a welder who makes gates and bbq sets, a man who has a painting and laundry business, a woman who wants to set up an Internet cafe, a group looking to set up a community Water Tank, another looking to set up a Camp Site/Drug Rehabilitation Centre (on the same plot of land, Drug addicts and Tourist, yep!) etc. How do I make my business generate more money, how do I develop a business plan and can you help me get finance? 

Worlds away from unions and strikes.

We are arranging to meet up to 10 more groups in and around the Kilifi district in the first quarter of 2010.  The group we are longest with now are into their 6th session with us.  They have developed a constitution, voted on officers, selected which MFI they wish to approach for a loan and have been introduced the idea of business success. 

These sessions take place in a empty, windowless veranda like room where the communities women perform their daily tasks – washing, cooking and mothering.  It doubles as a play ground for a busy shrill of children - wide-eyed, dirty, happy children. The women gather every Monday and Thursday at 3ish to talk shop, listen and hopefully, fingers crossed, learn (?).

Worlds away from public/private sector pettiness.

It is only coincidence that I decided to go do VSO during a period of huge uncertainty and gloom in Ireland. Some coincidences are more rewarding the others. 

From Ireland all I hear is less is less and inequitable and unfair. Here I see no equity and no fairness. Here I can see less can sometimes mean more.

With 12c off a pint, maybe Ireland will start seeing this soon too.

November blog number 2

We have stopped, for a moment, in our small red raft about 30 yards from a grade 4 rapid on the source of the Nile, Uganda, to listen carefully to the life saving instructions of our guide Peter, a small youngish Ugandan with a fantastically dry sense of humour, on how to tackle this next watery beast.

“So" he says slowly looking toward a point where the river disappears down a small cliff, clouds of water rising from a point where the impressive cacophony of noise erupts "this next rapid is called fifty fifty……It is called that because 50% of the time we flip…”  he pauses to make a quick calculation “…and...yeah, ha ha,  we will probably go over this time too!”.

Great! This will be, what? Our third time flipping? 

The idea is, as Peter sits at the back of the raft steering us into the jaws of calamity, we row forward and then when we are on the cusp of disaster, he shouts down and we squat into the pathetic shelter of the rubber dingy gripping with all our might the rope and our oar.  

On ‘50-50’ I am determined to hang on and keep my eyes open. 

Eyes Open, Hang on. Determined.

 “If we flip, hang on to the raft.  If you leave go, remember to swim right. Ok? Lets go – Forward” he shouts and we begin to edge ourselves nervously closer to the cauldron of violent river making a hell of  a who-ha ahead of us.

The water slips quickly downward on a smooth tongue shaped slope that rises slightly at the tip before tossing us into volcanic avalanche of apoplectic white water. The brutish noise fills our every pour as the first specks of water hit us then, for too late for my liking, Peter screams - 

“DOWN!!!”

Arrrggghhhh! DOWN! Arrgghhh!  

Quick check. Left hand -  oar, tight. Right hand - rope, tighter.

Splashes of water immediately leap aggressively into our boat followed quickly by a huge, white cliff of water ambushing us like an American footballer rushing a 5 year old girl.

SMACK! FLIP! WALLOP! KABOOM!

The boat bucks skyward like a wild horse and then it all goes dark, No wait, that my eyes closing, gravity cancels all bets and the world turns to water and for a moment silent.

Upside down, I try to rip..to rip a grip…to get a grip,  check on my status, my predicament, to assess my imperious control of my environment.

Left hand - oar, tight. Right hand - empty.

Left hand - oar, tight. Right hand…definitely empty.

FUCK!! FUCK!! FUCK!!  

Don’t panic. Fuck that, I'm drowning here. 

FUCK!! FUCK!! FU.

Before complete nervous break-down, I pop back into the world to be greeted by a smack in the face from another wave and swallow 27 and half litres of the Nile River. 

Get a grip for petes sake man, think what did Peter say?

1. “If we flip, hold on.” Yeah we already discussed that numb nuts.
2. “If you leave go, swim right."

So I swim like a panicked cat through the rushing water throwing me down stream and toward a safety kayak who comes to rescue me.

“Are you ok?” he asks

Ah! a joker is it?  ‘Ok?’ Did you not just see what I went through man!

“Yeah I’m ok.” I manage to spit out. What a soldier.

So I take a firm grip of his kayak and he pumps his ‘kayak stick’ through the white waves to drag me back to my raft.

“Ok quick, get back into the raft, we have another one coming up” Peter shouts. 

The rest of the crew are in a similar state of disrepair as I flop back into the boat like a fish out of water.  

Inventory: 

Arms: 2, check

Legs: 2, check

Head: 1, check

Torso: 1, check

(A glance despairingly at my right hand. 'Cant believe you let me down, after all the good times we shared together')

Back in the boat, oars in the water:

“Fuck that was fun!” 

 “Yeah whats next Peter?”

Tut, tut. How quick we forget.

The last ten days have been a great success. One of the real perks about working in Kenya is its proximity to some of the most wonderful places in the world.  A 14 hour bus journey through western Kenya brings you into Uganda and a completely different country. 

Deep, rich and vibrant green rolling hills draped in romantic layers of misty grey clouds.  Soil that is so red and dark its almost burgundy. Mysterious musty smells mixed with the burning embers of charcoal warms our senses. 

My journey, with Chris, Kelly and Rochelle fellow VSO’ers, was to Jinja the infamous source of the Nile, the longest river in the world and one of the best homes for White River Rafting. The Nile treats these rafts as a gale treats a leaf. But it is really is incredible fun.

As well as all that tomfoolery in Uganda,  back in Kenya and at work Thursday two weeks ago we started to successfully train a big group of local business women with the aim of getting them finance and it continues to go well. Then last week we welcomed a batch of new VSO volunteers who arrived into Nairobi for their in-country training before they head to their placements.

8 months since I arrived into Kenya like this new batch. How I wish to be back at my desk in the bank managing the Tax and Pensions mailing, an abundance of wet grey rain outside, recession, depression or repossession in the air.

What would I’d give for all that? I could afford to give you a litre or two of Nile River water. I still have oodles of that in my system if anyone fancies it? It appears to contain a lot of de-stressing nutrients with immense well-being benefits - not of course, that I'd need any of that if I was back in Ireland!

Take care.

P.S. Chris, Mike – you’ll be missed. To the next step…

Ocampo comes tomorrow

You may have read recently the Popes speech at the end of the Vatican’s 3-week love-in on Africa about the continent still suffering from the materialism of colonialism.  You may also have read Kevin Myers, a journalist and historian with a regular opinion piece in the Irish Independent,  who wrote an article headlined Africa's real problem today is it does not have enough of the 'colonial' values of materialism.

Further to this piece Myers said on Today FM – Drivetime 21/10/09 -  that Africa has failed to create a culture of materialism and entrepreneurship.

Working in SCOPE provides an alternative reality. On Monday, we got a call from a group of 24 small micro/small business women who wanted finance and business training.  On Wednesday we started training a group of 14 business people and  this week we had 5 groups of between 9 and 21 people seeking business training.

Indeed, SCOPE are one of several groups offering business training to groups and individuals and there is an ever increasing number of Micro-Finance organisations offering finance to small businesses.

These customers or beneficiaries of these products and services are essentially entrepreneurs – individual people trying to earn income through setting up their businesses. The reason for this is that the Kilifi Division has only 4% of the labor force in waged employment.  Therefore, setting up and running your own business is the only way to earn money. 

So from my 7 months I would say Kenya, and Africa by a reckless general-ism, is far from short on willing entrepreneurs.  The more prudent question I think, from my experiences, is that are these willing individuals capable of becoming successful entrepreneurs? And again from my experience, the key determent in finding a positive answer to this question is education. 

Kenya is trying to improve education; it currently provides free primary school education that is partly funded from foreign development aid budgets.  However, the equivalent amount of aid for education and indeed more, goes missing from the from government coffers.   This government is run by those who more or less stole the 2007 election.  Rampant institutional corruption and powerful impunity erode a lot of efforts to attract private investment and improve education levels.

If there’s one thing that has held Africa back – and Kenya to be specific – is the impunity of rule from behind protected piles of corrupt money its not the lack of entrepreneurial spirit of the majority.

As Richard Dowden, a hugely respected journalist with 30 years plus experience working in Africa explains in telling the story of when the colonialists were in charge, the locals saw them from outside the walls of secured mansions from where they ruled with reckless impunity serving their own needs.  The push for independence was to take down those walls and open ‘the house’ to the greater public.  However, when independence came and the elected leaders took charge, they then took over the secured mansions and kept the walls up. 

The point is that Kenya/Africa did grasp the materialistic society as presented to them my the Colonialists i.e. a selected minority of the powerful elite who have big houses, fast cars and designers clothes.

And it’s this materialism that remains from the imperial days and not that of which the Pope speaks. Perhaps Africa needs a democratic, market driven educated society to allow existing and future entrepreneurs flourish. Then there will be more than just 4% of the Kilifi population in wage employment.  

For Kenya, a major step in achieving this hopefully arrives tomorrow.

More rivers or Smaller seas?

Offering exclusive support to PLWHA (People living with HIV/AIDS) is, perhaps not surprisingly, a bit of a controversial activity in Kilifi. For example, imagine this (If you can):

Your Sifia Bayo - a mother of 6 children aged between 1 and 12.  Between you and your husband, Alex, your income levels are unreliable and insufficient. For breakfast you have rice, no lunch and then dinner you have some maize shared for all the family.

You live in a small cramped mud hut, barely capable of fitting you all in. Despite the meagre shelter, there always enough room for Hunger and Struggle as well as frequent visits from Mr Sickness.  You attend mass everyday and thank God for your health and that of your family.

Your neighbour – Geoffrey and Mary Ocheino – also live in a small house with their 6 children.  However, Geoffrey has been diagnosed as HIV+.  Thus the Ocheino’s get World Food Programme support – Food for the month for the entire family and CSB (Corn Soya Blend) for Geoffrey’s to provide specific nutritional support.  This is called Prescribed Food by the doctors and the powers that be – it is called free food by the Bayo’s and the rest of the community.

So you ask me – how come, even though we the Bayo’s need food support as much as the Ocheino’s, we do not get it because none of our household is HIV+? Should I contract the virus so that my children can evict hunger from our house?

It’s an interesting one – HIV is a dreadful disease but thankfully, now with more available ART treatment, a person living with the virus can still enjoy a long and reasonably healthy life.  Of course that’s if they can get treatment, if not the face a horrible, slow and painful death – often alone.  Even if they do get treatment, the stigma follows them everywhere like a large pointed finger – the silent ringing bell screaming an accusatory 'unclean'. 

Hunger effects a child concentration and natural growth as well as leaving them open to infection and disease. It offers generous helping of stress and strain for the parents forced to struggle to put bread on the table.  It encourages families to seek income by what ever means possible.  The thing is, HIV is dreadful illness but families need food – today and get no food. Forget long-term debilitating illness - what about today and tomorrow.   If I’m positive I get food for my family and treatment.

Why is it only the people living with HIV/AIDS who get the food support?  Why are we left to carry the burden alone because we have not been infected?  Why must my child go hungry because we listened? These are the questions some people in Kilifi are asking and many more are thinking.  At the same time they are being fed messages on HIV/AIDS prevention.

The virus is killing Africa (Kenya is 9th in the list of most infected populations) by wiping out the most productive generation – most infected between 18-35 – therefore having enormous economic effects.  It leaves a country with 000’s of orphans -  there are 9 orphanages in Kilifi not including home stays like Zilpas – and no one knows how these children development will be effected and thus the communities they live.  It places incredible strain on the countries health and social services system and thus public services and the wider economy.

But it is one of several problems facing the continent and the country. Sometimes it feels a like a hose with many leaks but with only a small bit of tape to stop the leak. Stopping one leak means pulling it from somewhere else.

But sooner stop one problem then sit in your hands doing nothing right?

This morning I met 7 groups of Index clients (PLWHA – People living with HIV/AIDS) all of whom qualify for World Food Programme support. SCOPE are offering them Business Management and Marketing Training amongst support for other Income Generating driven activities. 

This is specifically what I came here to do – and it has been a very positive development for me in terms of meeting objectives. Over the past few months we’ve been mainly training and advising small micro businesses throughout the community in general. So I’ve done my practice on the regular poor and now polished my act for the sick poor!  Nice work.

The river always flows to the sea, but the sea is never full.

Location, Location, Location

We carefully meander our way in the light sprinkled gloom on a topsy turvey boardwalk– the wood sparse and uneven like the keys of an old badly made wooden piano. Below us the strange, dense spaghetti roots of the mangrove forest reach up and around us to thatch a thick roof of vibrant green leaves.

Journeying toward a brilliantly sunlit opening where a platform appears hovering on the edge of beautiful grey creek, blissfully sparkling under the fading evening light.

The sun, the colour of a brilliant huge mango, spreading a large bright golden tongue across the silver watery expanse, setting fire to the sky as it cautiously retreats behind the distant palm treed horizon.

In the wake of it’s magnificent departure, flamingos and herons arrive to join the silhouetted villagers sliding on canoes across the serene silver stage.

We had arrived at the home of Baso Conservation Group on Mida Greek.

It’s Saturday evening and our dinner table on this stilted platform provides a group of us 7 volunteers with a deliciously isolated spot for sundowners, a feast of seafood and opportunity to discuss a variety of weighty topics – your favourite Simpson's quote, who would you kill if you had one bullet? and your claim to fame.

Baso Conservation Group is a hugely successful purely community project that farms crabs so this makes this not just a heavenly spot  for a night out, but also genuinely effective and indigenous community support activity for the local village community.

Possibly as perfect a location as that can be found.

To be fair, our setting for most of the weekend was close on serene: the glistening soft ivory sands and tortuously beautiful turquoise ocean catering for our r&r needs; the sea-breeze decking of Ocean Sports, the conducive setting for reckless banter, inspirational event organising and ice-cold tuskars; and the large comfortable cottage of Marijani in Watamu village to recover (it’s hard work out here!) at night.

Returning to Kenya, you can sometimes get caught up in location; not where you are but where you’re not. Of course you miss people at home. However in this sumptuous spot on the mouth of a beautiful creek next to the Indian ocean, this is one (of many) location which Kenya provides so to make it easier for me to settle back in.

Watamu, Kenya – 27th/28th September: A great weekend, with great people in a great place.

Kwaheri Diana.

p.s. There was no sense in last week blog…this is the point: It makes no sense.

A blog from August....

The exchange rate between miles and kilometres moved a small bit closer to parity following intense Sunday morning market trading. One mile now converts to just over 1.1 of a kilometers.  

Suicide bombers across Pakistan and Afghanistan continue to strike demanding a review of working conditions, specifically retirement benefits.

In the crossword in Sunday’s newspaper, 17 down begins with A and has 7 letters but no clue is given. We think it could be  ‘What fruit makes cider?’ yet we have absolutely no reason to believe this is the case.

A hairdresser who works in no shop and goes alone to Saturday night nightclub in tight-hot pants asks for a drink from an Irish volunteer. He refuses because he has no money but asks for a haircut in return. It too is refused because she cannot cut hair.

Not far from abject poverty, teenage sex on sale for €10 and death at not much more, I lie in waist deep turquoise water, floating over white soft sand, bathing in warm sunshine yards from beach sofas, cool draught beer and Ashes cricket.

For such brilliant weekend spent in Diani Beach, Ukunda, South of Mombasa, Kenya, ridiculous fiction seemed a lot like ridiculous fact…neither really makes a lot of sense.

A glass 1/4 full or 3/4 empty?

Jon Bon Jovi, the wise old head he is, never sang about being a quarter of the way there.  And with good reason.  It’s not much to sing about. 

6 months into my VSO stint is all…Andy Dufrane hadn't even made a dent in the wall at Shawshank by this stage for heavens sakes. 

Yet the Eighteen Months which remain towers over me like a huge Mountain, casting a long dark shadow over almost all my recent thoughts. Its the sinister man in the long coat standing behind the beautiful clerk in the bank in a Hitchcock movie.

Jaysus, you’d swear I have it bad out here or something. Or that I’d left some heavenly wonder Tir Na Og at home.

‘Woooah, we’re a quarter of the way there, get a fucking grip ya big gobshite’ the blond blow-dried blubber lipped yank would cry.

I get regular updates from other volunteers who were in my pre-departure training course (keep the coming folks!).  Very few peoples’ placements are ideal…mine is closest to attaining such a mark to be honest. I have very few complaints.

I live beside the Indian ocean in a lovely small village. I’m heading to a white sandy tropical beach this weekend, and a few more times in October.  Going white-river rafting down the source of the Nile in November…and don’t even get me started on my plans for Christmas.

‘Woooah, we’re a quarter of the way there, you’re a jammy fookin bastard Halley’ the over-played Californian punk would pelt out.

VSO remind us, and I in turn remind myself, of the fact that in the first 6 months, volunteers really are not meant to achieve much – no shit. 

So now is the time to put the shoulder to the wheel, set the cat amongst the pigeons, put a bit of grease on the axle, pull up the sleeves, send the elves to work, wake-up the worms, send the birds to get the bread… to get things done so to speak.

Now is also probably the time to start making up stuff to fill this darned blog!

Hope all is good where ever you may be reading this.

For less than a bag of fish...

I had just finished a meeting with a group of young adults in Cheramai in Kilifi Township where I outlined what SCOPE could offer them in terms of generating income – the usual splurge about training, marketing, advice and access to finance.

The self-help group work with a local businessman to sell liquid soap in their community of which they get a generous 50% cut of sales. It generates for them a small 700ksh a week.  SCOPE are now offering a chance to boost this.  Importantly, a white guy or mzungu (me) is offering them this.

“Sawa (ok), any questions?”

“Can you give us uniforms”

“What?? No. But I can help you sell more so you can afford them”

“Can you give us mobile phones?”

“What? NO! I do not have money”

“Can you buy us lunch?”

I pour petrol over me and set myself on fire, Buddhist monk style.

If there is one thing that pisses me off here is that everyone thinks the mzungu can give them money:

A bag of tiny shrimp sized fish called Omena from Kisumu beside Lake Victoria is a ‘Coasterian’ (people who live on the Coast) delicacy.  I know, I know - they live beside the ocean but it’s the fish from the lake that they like! Anyway, it gets transported from the west to the coast and sold for 7,000ksh a bag which in turn is sold to the consumer market for 9,000ksh

A bag of fish costs 9,000ksh

As part of Zilpa’s income generation strategy – you might remember Zilpa who has the 8 orphaned girls aged between 12-17? – she purchases one bag and uses the profit to buy clothes in her shop which in turn is used to feed, clothe and educate her children.

Of course one bag with 2,000ksh profit (which comes every two weeks) is not enough to support her shop or to cater for her girls needs. While her situation continues to improve, this fact continues to cause much consternation.

Whilst visiting her shop, Zilpa introduced me to one of her orphaned girls - Elizabeth – who is 15.  She shyly shakes hands and says hello, smiles meekly and leaves me and Zipla to talk business.  Lately, young Elizabeth has begun to look to make her own money to pay for such luxuries as Sanitary Towels amongst other less necessary items like a nice clothes – items the family cannot afford. 

On the coast of Kenya in a tourist town like Kilifi, Elizabeth could earn 4,000ksh for sex with a tourist. Enough for clothes and sanitary towels. There are over 15,000 or 30% of  girls aged between 12-18 living in resort towns who earn income in the Child-Sex Tourism industry, most of which on a casual basis.

15 year old girl for sex 2,000 - 4,000ksh.

Walking outside Zilpa’s shop, we meet two sisters age 14 and 16 who don’t live with Zilpa but whom she provides with breakfast and dinner. The girls live in a poor family of 14 children and their father also has another wife with three children so there simply is not enough food for all.  The girls need help from where they can get it.

Both these girls could make 8,000ksh for sex without a condom – that’s double the price for no condom. Enough money for food for all the family for a week.

16 year old girl for sex without a condom 4,000 -  8,000ksh.

Frequently when I meet Zilpa, the youngest girl who lives with the family – Christine who has lived with Zilpa since she was two when her mother died of AIDS – comes to greet us. Christine is 12, barely 4 foot whose shyness is betrayed by laughter whenever we joke. 

She says she wants to be a doctor when she grows up (she spends a lot of time with Doctors, a legacy from her mothers disease) so when I meet her, I tell I have a cough and have come to see the doctor. She burst into laughter and her face erupts like a sparkling bonfire of happiness – it’s absolutely captivating and wonderful.

Despite this dependency on Mzungu money which I know completely to be wrong, I’ve agreed to sponsor more bags of fish for Zilpa. ‘Sponsor’ as she will give me back 10% of the profit – so it’s an investment not a handout or so I tell myself.  This will help sustain her income and thus help continue to support so many girls in her local community.

Everything I believed in, I’ve read and listened to tells me this is not the answer.  But the dark realities are so much more powerful than that and for all our work on self-sufficiency, this is the best I can come up with.

Anal sex with a 12 year old girl, like our doctor Christine, costs 5,000ksh.

*Information supplied from ‘The Extent and Effect of Sex Tourism and Sexual Exploitation of Children on the Kenyan Coast’ by UNICEF and Government of Kenya 2006.

Nairobi to Mombasa

It’s just past 10am on Monday morning and I’m stuck in one of Nairobi’s ‘known for it’s awful’ traffic jams on the Mombasa road.  Outside men and women are busy selling biscuits, newspapers, socks, t-shirts, coke, hairbrushes, you name it to motorists, feverishly moving from one to the next like flies around turtles. 

These poor hawkers, in ill-fitting, dirty old coats say a lot about Kenya’s capital city – it’s dirty, poor and desperately ill-suited to provide for the needs of it’s 3 million people, of which 1.2 million live in the biggest slum in the Africa – Kiberia.

Fortunately for me, I creep away from Nairobbery on my Coast Air Coach on a ten hour trip back to Kilifi.

The countryside that slides past my window offers the paradoxical picture of a dreadfully harsh but beautifully simple environment like the red barren surface of Mars, painted with houses, trees and people by the innocent hands of an 8 year old child.

Hurtling over a mix of newly tarmacked roads and old rut-riddled stretches, I spend some of the journey reading the daily Kenyan newspaper – The Daily Nation. A paper with more spelling and grammatical errors than any brochure/Newsletter I have ever been responsible for (maybe not). 

Since I arrived here, the news in these paper’s has never been good. Now it’s particularly bad.  Take your pick from desperate droughts, millions starving, energy rationing, water shortages and environmental catastrophes…plus a generous daily dose of corruption and political nonsense. It paints a depressing reality facing the country.

But as bad as all this is, my daily scan of the grim truths of Kenya is sparred, thankfully, by those three words. Those heinous, apocalypse-inducing stinky words that grace Saturday’s Irish Times every week that my dear granny sends one to me.

The McCarthy Report.

(Lightning Bolt, Thunder, Banshee cries and ghoulish laughter sound effects please.)

God I shudder if that evil, axe wielding enemy of pleasure comes to these shores. 

“ENOUGH!” we’d cry. “Please God, we’ve had enough.” And Kenya, on mass, would run and jump into the ocean sparring itself from An Bord Snip. 

(‘Snip’? Don’t let McCarthy ever perform your circumcision.)

All joking aside, I know that when I come home in September for a 2 week sojourn from the depression free-zone of Kenya I’ll hear a lot of doom and gloom. And of course, it would be fruitless to compare doom and gloom country to country – I know Ireland is facing some tough, tough times.

BUT!

Yes public sector jobs will be cut including Teachers and Nurses, yes Irish people will have to pay higher taxes, Yes we might have to cut Development Aid and Yes, it’s all very difficult to accept….but No, we will not pull 411 troops out of Chad to save €12m.

That’s a step too far.

What’s happening in Chad (Sudan, the Congo) to people is utterly unacceptable. Not to Irish taxpayers yes but to people, other people but people like you and me all the same.  Providing protection or trying to provide protection for this is what? Imperative, an absolute fundamental responsibility, essential, rudimentary, critical…what word, take your pick?

That’s why we should be proud of the Irish soldiers risking their lives for peace in Chad and we should refuse to let it go under the red pen.

Ireland still believes that those crimes are unacceptable, in the good times AND the bad times?

Ok hope that’s not too heavy or political, it wont be a regular thing. It could be worse, I could of waxed lyrical about anyone of Arsenal’s six goals against Everton on Saturday.  There’ll be plenty of time for that.

Hope all is well at home and where ever else.

p.s. For everyone affected by  last Friday nights yobish behavior in Tramore – I apologise for his behaviour.  We’ll keep a tighter leech on him in future.

Gourmet Goat

“Let’s do a goat tonight” Anthony, one of my Kenyan friends said to me Saturday afternoon. It's been a while but has it come to this I thought.  

“Do a goat?” 

“Yeah, we’ll get some beers and eat it the Masai way”

“Oh eat it. The Masai way. Yeah definitely. Lets do that”  The Masai way, I say it like I know exactly what he’s talking about – Of course, the Masai way -  Beef Casserole cooked the Masai Way from the Tesco Finest collection.  

No flies on me.

So Saturday night 8 o’clock, I’m off to eat a goat somewhere about 15 minutes away from Mnarani, off the main road and close to the beach.

Beside a small completely unspectacular cottage, not to far from the middle of no where, we gather around a small table waiting for our Masai friends (Ndishu and Logisa – I met them at a couple of parties before, good guys) to finish preparing the animal for consumption.

I can hear the ocean dancing on the beach somewhere past the thickish bush, but cant make out much else in the darkness. After a short wait Logisa, complete with his Masai ‘get-up’ drops a plate of soft, squishy goat, layered in a strange slippery sauce in the shadows in front of us.

My fellow diners dig in followed cautiously by me.

Feigning complete comfort I eat what tastes like so-so lamb with a strong meat sauce.   The Masai Way – probably wont make the Finest collection after all but’s its not bad. 

Sam, a research scientist with a huge personality, chuckles and says to me “As much as I love the taste goat cooked in blood, I know I’ll be sitting on the toilet from about 6am tomorrow”

Whoa, whoa.  Back up the truck Conor. 

“Blood?” I ask. He surely means Bisto folks, it’s ok. Ahhh Bisto!

“Yeah, it’s the way the Masai eat goat.  The take out it’s stomach and organs, burst the Gall Bladder over it and cook it. The Masai Way - with blood” he smiles. 

That’s twice he said blood instead of Bisto.

Chege, a dentist adds to this “Don’t worry, the blood isn't bad for you, it’s just your stomach might react badly to it and we’ll be shitting ourselves all morning”.  He laughs and takes some goat.

The part of my brain that is responsible for thinking about the future has just burst into flames.  My stomach is cantankerous at the best of times, it’s going to be in an awful strop being forced to accept this.

“Ha..h-h-ha, ha.  So this is what Gall Bladder sauce tastes like” looking at the small piece of squishy meat squeezed between my thumb and fingers – “It’s nice. Goat blood, it’s nice. Ha h-ha h-ha”

Like fuck it is – it’s bloody horrible, if you can possibly excuse that appalling pun, but it is. Scrap what I said earlier. 

Not wanting to offend I eat some more, but swallow each piece down with a half a bottle of beer. I washed quite a bit down with beer and vodka…when you’re eating goat meat in blood sauce, you don’t have to worry too much about a hangover.   

You may as well be killed for a sheep then for a lamb..or goat. 

True to form my bowls threw the rattle out of the cot completely on Sunday morning.  It did so on several occasions.

I’m done with goats.  And blood.  Vodka and Beer are still ok though!

Voluntary Testing and Counseling - Pictures

How will I manage to do this now?

This is my fourth attempt at trying to write a blog but everytime I try to complete it I stray like a moth to light to a topic that I shouldn't tell you about, however hard I try to avoid. I keep telling myself there are  more important things….

Anyway, here goes.

In this blog I’m not going to tell you about me scoring a 30 yard free-kick on Saturday afternoon against Kiwandani United.  With so many more important goings on going on here, me describing in minute detail the top corner screamer from an impossible distance seems a bit self-aggrandizing.

I think it’s a subject best avoided…so not a peep (30 – thirty -  yards though!).

VCT Outreach - Photos

So as promised previously, here are a few more of the excellent pictures from Mike Byrne taken at one of SCOPEs VCT (Voluntary Counselling and Testing) Outreaches.

APHIA II is the USAID project that work on HIV/AIDS prevention and care in Kenya. SCOPE are one of the implementing partners and work with the Ministry of Health and other stakeholders to mobilise the community to these local outreaches. 

In addition to various other health services (malaria, malnutrition, TB etc.), the community are encouraged to get a free HIV/AIDS test, prevention information and support. This is SCOPEs role in the outreach and the APHIA II project.

Below are some fantastic images giving you an insight into the work being done.  SCOPE staff are pictured in several of these shots and in the last shot, you’ll see George who is one of the key SCOPE employees who runs the programme in this district.

When the APHIA II funding ends (December 2009) it is hoped that SCOPE will be well on there way to achieving a level of resource sustainability (i.e. will be able to use their own income) to fund these programme.

That’s where Thunder Boot Halley’s project comes in!

Haraka haraka

Matatu’s are the cosy contraptions that provide the main form of public transport in Kenya.  Converted hi-ace vans with seats for 14 passengers (seats for 14, room for 16, 17, 18, 19, 20…) that drive about the place like chariots in Ben Hur.  The drivers are notorious for being as reckless as a 14 year old boy playing destruction derby on his PlayStation 3. 

I personally believe that on the Kilifi – Mombasa route (about an hours journey), the drivers have sworn an oath not to take their foot of the accelerator for the entirety of the journey and only overtake when there’s a car approaching from the other direction. It’s thrilling stuff indeed.

So you can imagine my disgust that for my trip down to Mombasa for a (youknownotreally) important meeting with FHI (Family Health International large US GNGO and strategic partner of USAID in Kenya) and VSO, I get the only Roadwise Rory driver in Kenya. 

How many times do you have too sigh really heavily and stare at a guy with ‘HURRY THE FUCK ON’ eyes in an hour and 45 minutes to hurry a guy the fuck on??

So it’s because of Super Safe Sammy that I arrived into the meeting 25 minutes late with Peter (Country Director FHI), Gordon (Coast Area Manager FHI), Charles (VSO Programme Manager - HIV/AIDS), Makena (Head of Programmes VSO) and three of my fellow volunteers – Emma, Chris and Abdu.

The idea is that through VSO, FHI would take four high calibre volunteers (4 out of 3 is not bad) and use them as a skills resource for four of their APHIA II partners on the coast and that us elite quartet (cough) would move seamlessly between each others placement sharing our particular skills with each.  A four pronged attack on poverty like Messi, Eto, Henry and Iniesta - quite frightening stuff really.

However, the idea has been slow to really take shape, this being the first time all parties have met together.  The three other volunteers are all one-yearers (which is just a long holiday really isn't it?!!)  and have already been here for quite a while– Emma is leaving in four weeks, Abdu is leaving end Oct/ start Nov and Chris is leaving in late Nov/Dec leaving me with the lone striker role.  Quite frightening stuff really!

But the good news is that FHI agreed with me that it is extremely difficult to generate income for SCOPE working in such an environment. They will work closely with me and provide me extra resources to support SCOPE and our BDS project.

I also had Charles (he’s me programme manager) and Mckena with me on Friday checking on my progress and how I’ve settled so far.  They seem to be quite happy, as do SCOPE and we hope to get more help from the EU’s sustainable living project.  More people involved, more people to blame!! 

Of course not. But bringing as many people, expertise and funding  in behind one co-ordinated project does seem like a rational approach and will amplify any chance we have of success.

Actually, even though the objective of resource sustainability seems to be maybe out of reach, the more we continue with the project, the more opportunities we uncover that could potentially do something. 

Maybe even do something good, but lets get ahead of ourselves yet.  We’re doing good enough going slow and steady, just like that bloody twat driving me to Mombasa last week.

In the footsteps of Marie Antoinette (kinda)

Solar powered milk, illegal black gold, Kilifi District gets the bullet and Mama Zelpha is eating clothes.  For an unproductive week it’s a contrastingly bumper blog!

As part of our Virtual Marketplace project, which is has more holes than a golf course, we are visiting Divisional Agricultural Officers (DAO) for each of the 3 constituencies in Kilifi -  Bahari, Kaloleni and Ganze - to learn more about agri-produce and market access problems.

On Tuesday and Wednesday we went to Ganze (take a bow – the poorest constituency in all of Kenya) and two of the divisions there - Vitengeni and (la la la) Bamba.

Vitengeni’s story is a story of what used to be.  Used to be a lot of people, used to be a lot citrus fruits, used to be bumper harvests of maize, used to be reliable rain.  People migrated to urban areas, citrus producing plants died courtesy of the 2006 drought and the lack of rain is to be discussed in Italy this week. Gr8!

But we did find a Milk Co-operative that have themselves their own solar powered coolers to take milk from throughout the district, store and sell.  All the way from Annapolis, MD in the US and financed by the World Bank, these impressive machines currently allows the Co-op to take milk from 12 of their 400 members. 

12 from 400.  They could produce 250litres a week but only produce 50 and sell 30 because they don’t have a market.  None of these figures add up but it’s a visit result – possibly some sort of opportunity if we can find a market and create a value chain. 

On to Bamba, 40kms in three hours on a bumpy road to the poorest, least agri-suitable area in Kenya’s poorest constituency.  So you might be surprised that this meeting visit was so much more positive than Vitengeni.  The local DAO listed three agri-produce with potential for growth – local sisal (sold to broker for 3-5k, sold at market for 10-15k), Meet goat (Bamba is famous for their goats sold to broker for 800sh, in Mombasa for 1200-1500sh) and Cashew where there used to be big harvests. 

Another thing about Bamba is that it is almost completely bare of trees like if it has been waxed (yuk!) clean of all it’s cover, burnt and sold as black gold.  Charcoal.  Completely illegal and therefore a big money earner for local farmers and police,  Charcoal production is having a hugely destructive effect on the eco-system throughout Africa.  

There are many NGOs working to solve this issue by encouraging the use of locally produced jatropha seed whose oil is used as to burn for energy as an alternative charcoal or people like WildLiving.co.uk who are producing eco-friendly charcoal (though expensive to buy and production is limited it is a step in the right direction). And of course if more income can be generated from the opportunities listed to us by the local DAO then there may be less of a need for charcoal income in Bamba?

Once we compile all the products and opportunities from all divisions within the 3 constituencies in the Kilifi District, we will need to find markets and access to create a virtual marketplace. 

And that’s the other thing that happened this week – Kilifi district is getting the bullet.  The three constituencies are being made into new districts. So it’s Bahari (which is really Kilifi), Kaloleni and Ganze. This is part of a (sinister?) plan by Pres. Kibaki to greatly increase the number of districts.  This plan is not published, debated in Parliament nor discussed with the Prime Minister’s office. More districts means more district sized salaries and costs. Of course Kenya has got heaps of cash for that kind of thing.

Finally, Mama Zelpha got a loan from SCOPE to buy fish to supplement to her Clothes shop business.  Her new shop location is doing really well and figures for her first full week or better than this time last year.  But the income she generates from the clothes she uses to feed her house of 13 people.  As she puts it ‘I just eat the clothes’ i.e. she cannot afford to buy new stock. 

So the plan is to use the profit from selling fish Ksh2,500 (€25) to use to buy her families food for 2 weeks and then use the profit from the clothes to buy more stock – which seems to be more profitable. From there, things should continue to improve.  And they are improving for her, which is good. Damn good indeed. But at this stage, one set back would be catastrophic for her and her family(which blows me away).

Funny thing is, I was trying to convince her to spend Ksh2,250 or 2,000 on food to allow more money for her clothes shop.  That was Friday afternoon, Saturday night Colm goes on the Tamerind Dhow in Mombasa for a volunteer birthday party – Dinner Ksh4,000!!

Marie Antoinette would be proud of me.