Road to Mbakalo

The way to Mbakalo (via Nakuru, Eldoret, and Webuye) was every bit as spectacular as Vic, Edward, and Marion promised, but for every moment of beauty, there was an equal moment of despair. On the outskirts of Nairobi lies a collection of slums, small corrugated iron houses and shops packed together lining the road (to give a picture [since the matatu was moving too fast for a good one] the shops were the size of a walk-in closet [maybe], and the houses were aligned as if walls of a corn maze [in fact, Edward has taken interns in the past and gotten lost.]) It was disheartening and certainly a quick drain on the energy from the night before. The big things that stuck in my mind were the colors green, pink, and red. These are the colors associated with Safaricom, Zain (two mobile phone companies), and Coke advertisements painted on entire rows of shops (and buildings later on). I wonder if the companies only see the commercial opportunities of such a desperate situation. My guess is yes given what Willy said Saturday. “Kenya is not a poor country. It’s that the wealth has not been distributed because of the corrupt.” (This is not to say that these companies are necessarily corrupt, just that it’s along the lines of people at the top not caring about the people at the bottom, only themselves.)

I do have some pictures from the matatu (more of a greyhound than a real matatu… more later…), but I wish I had been able to get more. Children playing on piles of rocks. The wood/stick shops that littered both sides of the road. The spikes strips (for who knows what [NB: they are for people who run traffic stops, as I have found out later]) that lay as obstacles for the matatu (and other vehicles) to avoid. But also two piki piki drivers sitting erect atop what is theirs, staring off at nothing in particular, talking, waiting for their next fare. A child (8, maybe 9) standing at the end of a field, walking stick in hand, foot raised against a rock, arm across knee, a little brother imitating his every nuance. Even just a picture of the valley, the hills interrupting its seemingly endless expanse.

We arrived at the station in Webuye, knowing only that we were to meet a man called Simon. Quickly, our white skin was a beacon for curious children and even passing adults. Several girls walked back and forth giggling, groups of boys had bets (I think) to see who would come the closest and walk by staring us down (we saw as they stopped across the street, talked, and one crossed to begin his inspection [and subsequently receive high fives as he completed the task and returned safely back across the road]). The minutes continued by with no signs of Simon as two women came around the corner, clearly interested in us. Being warned about the Kenyan women, Mo and I were wary, but for naught. It was one of the SOTENI ABD’s with word that Simon was on the way. Shortly after, Simon arrived with Bramwell (the taxi driver), greetings were exchanged, the taxi was loaded up (albeit with bags hanging out the back and the trunk strapped down), and we wove our way along the dirt roads to Mbakalo and Mama Anne’s.

Mbakalo is a rural area of farmers (maize, sweet potatos, bananas, and an assortment of greens and beans) and herders (sheep, goat, cattle). This means no electricity (other than some solar [enough for phone chargers and dimly powered lights]), no clean (unless boiled) or running water, and a hole in the ground for latrines. For baths, water is heated and put in a jug with a basin to fill when ready. Then small handfuls (or cupfuls) or water can be poured over the head or body inside one of the latrine stalls (except without a hole in the ground). For cooking, there is a separate smokehouse to cook by fire, and Mama has a gas stove but must work by flashlight. Most of the houses in the area are actually mud huts with thatched or iron roofing. We have been finding the poverty level is rather high. Mama and her husband, Lusweti (George [first name, not a translation]), however, are well off and take good care of us. Both are former teachers, and Lusweti still does some consulting (also being the former Minister of Education). Mama is very active in the community and is the leader of her women’s group, church group, school board, etc. The woman seems to do it all. They have chosen to help people in the community, supplying food and care for the elders and widows who are unable to sustain any form of support for themselves.

That is what I have written so far. It hasn't gotten past the first day here in Mbakalo. Things have been going mostly well. Just wanted to put up a quick post saying I have a longer one coming, but the internet has been touch and go.

Kwaheri (Bye)

-Pat