Kuria

It has been a long while since I have written about my travels due to a combination of no power, no computer, and well, being busy. I have been in Nairobi since Wednesday evening (7/29), and I was just in Mombasa taking a break with Steph from Friday (8/7) to Tuesday (8/11). (I might have a post for that soon or [more likely] a link to what she writes.) I also got a chance to see Hillary Clinton at University of Nairobi as she stopped in her tour of Africa for the AGOA Conference. It was strange to see roads shut down, soldiers posted around the city, and her hotel (the Intercontinental) isolated with cars being inspected and people being redirected. (Steph will do a much better job explaining what Hillary had to say and how it relates, so I will save myself and link that when it is up). Anyway, Kuria…

We left Ugenya bright and early (i.e. 9 or so) and made our way uneventfully to Kisumu (which sits on Lake Victoria) to meet up with Mathias (the Kuria Coordinator). While we were waiting, we hopped in a tuk tuk (a three-wheeled vehicle known mainly in that area and on the coast) and went to the main sports ground for lunch and to watch a football tournament that happened to be going on. After a couple hours of waiting, Mathias finally arrived and we headed to catch a matatu heading to Migori.

Along the way, we saw the remains of an accident (I was wrong about that one [In fact, a couple days ago, I was in a matatu in Nairobi that hit/got hit by someone. It’s difficult to say who was to blame considering the way they drive.]). Our matatu stopped and everyone (with the exception of Marla, me, and another woman) got out to join the on-looking crowd. When everyone piled back in, Mathias explained that it had been a head-on collision (which wasn’t hard to believe considering the matatu was resting in a ditch) likely from trying to pass.

We arrived in Migori in the early evening and were introduced slowly to the matatu system of Kuria. Mathias (knowing we would be back late) had someone ready to pick us up to take us on the hour drive into Kehancha. We assumed this meant it was a private car, but while we were filling the tank with fuel (or fooel as they pronounced it [understandably, since the vowels do not change sound in Swahili]), two more people joined. We continued along our way and soon picked up one more. Much to our surprise, this was not the last pick-up. Just before we left Migori, another person climbed in to join the driver (making the total eight). Finally, with a packed car, we made our way through the night over the bumpy dirt road.

When we arrived in Kehancha, our car quickly emptied, and the driver (it turns out it is Mathias’s brother-in-law) took us to Mathias’s brother’s house where Marla would be staying (originally, it was supposed to be both of us, but Mathias didn’t realize that Pat and Marla were a guy and a girl [not two girls], and we would have been sharing a room). We met his brother’s wife, Florence, and their daughter (about five), Fiona, and had dinner. Then, I was taken to where I was staying, the Pre-Mara Hotel. Along the way, we pulled into the gas station next door (so Mathias could be taken home), but it was closed (we were told this by a man standing with a bow and several arrows [all carved from wood with rather sharp looking metal tips]), so Mathias stayed with me for the night.

Unfortunately for me, my week at the Pre-Mara was not a good one. This first night, my mosquito net was too small, and mosquitoes got under the net. Not wanting to wake Mathias, I covered myself with my sheet, but it was still a bad night of sleep filled with loud buzzing throughout. The rest of the week involved a lack of running water in my room, more mosquitoes (which was as big an issue because I slept in the bed with the bigger mosquito net, but there were many, and they were loud.), and while I was trying to eat one night, a drunk guy (with an apparent mental disability as well) dropping a maggot on my arm while he was pushing his phone in my face because it played music (this was one of the nights where I became frustrated [close to nearly exploding] with all the differences [between here and home] and could not laugh or try to understand the situation).

Thankfully, the manager and the staff were very accommodating and very friendly throughout the week (and they also weren’t happy about the guy getting in and bugging me). They always found a room in the morning that had hot running water (in one case, the manager’s offered his room) and took care of me for dinner. (One of the nights, I had to search for Vincent [the second in command] to get my key for my room, and he happened to be talking to another mzungu guest [this was actually somewhat surprising] when I found him. I walked up, and got introduced to the woman [who was sporting a fresh black eye from ???]. Apparently, she was under the impression that I had requested to talk to her [I think Vincent thought we would want to meet because we were both mzungu. Not an entirely unfair assertion.] because she asked “So, do you want to talk to me outside or what?” “No, I just want the key to my room.” [I never did actually talk to her, but it was amusing, nonetheless. From what I gathered during breakfast the next morning as she was talking to a number of people, she was doing some research in each province of Kenya talking to teachers about their schools. It sounded like she was British.])

Concerning the research, the week also proved to be a little frustrating. On Monday (6/29 [a while ago…]), we made calls to set up three hour blocks of time with four of the six schools Mathias originally contacted. One of the six schools never received a letter, and the other we decided we wouldn’t have enough material for all five. (This was our first mistake. We could have easily made photocopies later in the week, but we weren’t thinking.) We then went to the local Hekima (not sure why it wasn’t Kehancha because it was just down the road) VCT (Voluntary Counseling and Testing) Center to talk to their workers about the prevalence of HIV and the community’s reaction to their services (prevalence is low [about 3.7% {the national average is something like 6.3%}] and reactions are mixed [usually the stigma associated with HIV/AIDS is enough to keep people away and makes them not want to know their status]. We had an interesting discussion with Mathias and his brother, Joseph, about this the second week (7/17-7/21) we came. Their thoughts concerning the matter were that prevalence rates were low in Kehancha because of their cultural customs [they used to chase women out of town if they became pregnant before marriage], but HIV is more rampant in Africa because of poverty [having relationships allows people to be provided for]. They talked about how HIV reached Kenya [it was highest on the boarders between some of their neighboring countries because of rape during war. Then, it worked its way across Kenyan boarders through Tanzania and Uganda] and why rates were higher in different places [one area of Kuria on the opposite side of Migori also boasts the highest prevalence rate in the world {something like 25 or 30%, if I remember correctly}]. It’s higher along the roads because many of the migratory workers [like truckers] stop in different areas [such as Isebania, which is very close to the Tanzanian border and a main trucking route. We passed through here many times to go to a couple of the schools. It’s about a forty-five minute ride from Kehancha.] long enough to make friends [as they put it]. It is higher in the Ugenya area and around Lake Victoria because of the practices associated with the fish markets. Women, when they want to start buying from a fisherman, need to be “baptized” [i.e. have sex with him] before he will sell to her. Sometimes simply being safe isn’t an option, and sometimes [it seems] they have no alternative if they want food or clothing or shelter.)

After our visit to the VCT Center, we headed to the District Hospital (a collection of unconnected buildings, latrines, and a covered, open-air waiting room [essentially, take out the hallways, levels, and toilets of a hospital back home]) and talked with the head of the TB (tuberculosis) division. TB and HIV go hand in hand many times, each making a person more susceptible to the other. Often, when a person is found with one, a test is done for the other (the instances when this does not happen is a result of someone’s unwillingness to be diagnosed, and it is unethical and illegal to do the tests without someone’s consent.) The doctor (I forget his name) told us about how they handle compliance issues for medications (starting and stopping treatment for HIV and TB is dangerous because it gives the virus and the bacteria opportunity to develop drug resistance through mutation and selection. [Both diseases are treated with multiple drugs at once. For HIV, this is three forms of antiretrovirals that block different components of the replication cycle. Because of the way the virus replicates, errors occur 1 in every 10,000 times, changing the viral RNA/DNA that determines the different viral components. This means the virus has a 1 in 10,000 chance in become resistant to one of the antiretrovirals, if the RNA/DNA of that component that particular ARV targets mutates. By targeting three different areas of the virus replication cycle, this chance is reduced to 1 in 1,000,000,000,000. The ARV kills all the replicating virus, but the viral DNA can become integrated into the human DNA before replication is blocked, and when ARV treatment is stopped, the latent DNA can reactivate, offering more opportunity to mutate and become resistant. For TB, depending on the strain, the bacteria have different resistant to the various antibiotics used. If only one antibiotic is used, the TB strain resistant to that antibiotic is selected for. Using multiple antibiotics prevents selection and ensures all strains are killed. There are instances of multiple drug-resistant {MDR} strains, but the doctor related that he had no cases. Because of the way the antibiotics work, starting and stopping treatment before it is completed does not allow your body to clear the entire infection and the more resistant strains can grow and take over the body. This can lead to cases of MDR TB. Anyway, enough science for now.]) His program does not start medication until the person is sufficiently educated about the disease, the consequences of not taking medication, the side effects of the medications (both can be toxic and require good nutrition [a problem] to avoid these effects), and other issues. He visits all of his patients to ensure that compliance is being achieved, and it sounded like his program has a pretty good success rate.

After this, we went to get lunch then proceeded to the school that received the letter, but we wouldn’t be able to use for the research and gave only the talk to the whole school and some of the teachers. The principle came in halfway through, and when he gave his closing remarks to thank us, emphasized the important message to his students that he got from the talk, “Don’t trust your partner.” Oops…

The next day (6/30), we spent the morning visiting the school we would visit the next day to inform them of our needs and about what we would be doing. The week happened to coincide with the annual headmaster’s convention in Mombasa, so the people left in charge didn’t always have the authority to do what we needed. With this school, we were stuck with two of the teachers (unsure of what they should do it seemed), and they continually changed what we agreed upon. (The students were a fun group to talk with, but we were unable to return the next time around because it would interrupt their exams.) We then went back to Kehancha, and after lunch, headed to our first school. Here, we met quite some resistance from the nun in charge. We explained that we would need three hours for the two evaluations and talk. She explained that the students only had two hours between exams. We said we could spilt it up. She said the students were leaving the next day, and we could fit it all into two hours. We said sorry we can’t, and we won’t be able to do the program if we don’t do all the evaluations. She said really it’s ok, you can do it with two hours. No matter how well we thought we explained, she wouldn’t budge. We ended up just giving the talk (this one was without the assistance of a chalkboard).

The next day (7/1), because we didn’t need to be at the school until later, we used the morning hours to visit the LMC Chairman, Maasai Maroa. We had a brief chat with him, and touched upon some of the historical events he witnessed while he was studying at Kent State (he was on campus during the shootings) and working in the US and some that we had witnessed in our generation (9/11, Obama elected, etc.). At various points throughout the day, we met the rest of the LMC and various other people that Mathias knew (everyone it seemed). Later in the day, we set up times for the next day’s school visit and ran into some issues. This school has sent its form 2’s home to collect school fees (this is a common practice and something we ran into later with other schools), which left about half the students from both streams left for the next day. Because we had already lost two schools, we agreed to allow this even though it could lead to further difficulties down the road. When we got to the scheduled school, they pushed back the timing on us unexpectedly (when we came back for the third follow-up, they dropped us completely because they didn’t want the students distracted during exams), causing us to be stranded when we got back to Isebania (since Kehancha is so isolated and matatus usually don’t travel there from Migori or Isebania [Interestingly, all of the shop signs spelled it Isibania, but the official signs and maps have the previous spellings] after dark). While we were waiting for someone to come from Kehancha, it began to rain (sometimes the roads become impassable when wet [being dirt and all]). Fortunately, it did not last too long, and our ride managed to make it to get us with little problem. On the way back (it may have been the next day because we had to do this again), we nearly crashed into someone herding their cattle down the road.

The next school turned out to be something of a disaster. Because it was a mix of the two streams, they put us in the laboratory (which happened to be filled with wasp’s nests [though, this didn’t turn out to be an issue.]). However, only half the students had chairs (and when they went to ask, they couldn’t retrieve any from their classroom), and they were generally disruptive (students were walking in and out, continually making fun of our accents [amusing, usually, but tiresome after ten minutes], and collectively not caring) throughout the entire thing (with other schools, this lasted for the explanation of the evaluation and maybe the initial part of the talk. Here, it crossed the line into disrespectful.). When it came time to do the second evaluation, there was a large protest because they had already done one and it was getting late. Nearly, three-quarters of the students left. It was bad enough that we considered dropping the school for the rest of study (given the number of circumstances we had to deal with), but upon return decided not to (fortunately, things went much better the second time around).

The last school was just across the district border in Kuria East (all the others [and where we were staying] had been in Kuria West). Along the way, we saw the remains of a burned car (I may have failed to mention at any point previously that it was known [about a week before we went] that Kuria was in the middle of tribal fighting, but the main focus was centered politically around the two tribes of Kuria East and around cattle rustling between Kuria East tribes and the Maasai. I was never entirely clear, but the political fighting was about where to put the town hall [or something like that] but there were disputes between the two parties [and thus, tribes] in the area. We were safe because [being white] we were clearly not involved in anything [we were told Mathias was safe because they could recognize he was not from a Kuria East tribe]. We were also told that the cattle rustling was only in the East, but on our last day, we saw a party of men armed with bows and arrows and other weapons returning down the road with cattle that had been stolen the night before [we happened to be in Kuria West at the time…]. That would [most likely] explain the man with the bow and arrow I saw on the first night.) The burned car and the cattle party were the only evidence we saw of the issues, and I never felt that I was in danger (the general warmth of everyone we met was similar to Mbakalo). Anyway, the school was very enthusiastic about being involved and was very good, overall. On our way back to Kehancha the second time around, we shared a matatu with the principle (or headmaster [I am never sure which school calls them which], the deputy principle (see above), and the guidance and counseling teacher. We had a fairly interesting discussion about HIV/AIDS, covering the differences between Africa and the US (the conversation started with that general topic) and dispelling myths they may have heard (and/or possibly believe [I was never sure on this part]. I would like to believe that the questions were more out of general curiosity, and these were things they simply heard and wanted to know the facts about, but it really was difficult to say. The list covered a range from where/how the virus originated [one myth is that it is man-made] to why it is more prevalent in Africa [one myth is that Africans have different blood types, so the virus affects them at a much higher rate]). Whether or not it was simple curiosity, the overall vibe (throughout the entire process) was that they showed concern for their students (before we left the school, the principle gave a letter to Marla raising concerns about the female students access to information and resources for feminine care and explained what they had done so far [building separate latrines, new dorms, etc.]), and when we arrived in Kehancha after our discussion, they all wanted us to return and address FGM [or female circumcision, depending on your point of view, but nonetheless, a topic that has come up on several occasions]. We had to decline not knowing much about the issue [nor having time]. I was asked my opinion on the topic during the discussion. What I said was that while I do not agree with the practice because it is harmful to the woman, it is something that needs to be respected because it is such an important part of the culture [this is when a girl becomes a woman and is a very big deal for the community and the individual]. FGM is illegal in Kenya, and as a result, in order to perform the ritual, it is often done underground [often in unsafe conditions], raising the risk of the woman contracting HIV [this is how FGM was connected to our conversation]. You might be asking why a girl would agree to do this if it is dangerous. It may be easier to place blame simply on a lack of education or family members/men forcing the girls to be cut, but because the practice is so ingrained into the culture and what is represents is a monumental part of a woman’s life, would you want to be considered a child your entire life, never be respected by your community, never marry? I agree with it being illegal but not without education and replacing the practice with an alternative ceremony [one that I have heard is cutting the girl on the leg to represent the act] that respects the step in the girl’s life and the culture. Should a woman be looked down upon because she willingly agrees with the ceremony? Should a culture be disregarded or changed because it is different than yours? I think first, it’s important to understand why something is done before you can agree or disagree with what or how it is done [this goes for understanding another culture as much as it goes for understanding your own. Why do you believe what you believe? Why do you do what you do?].)

On the first week’s Friday (7/3), before our last visit to the above school, we had lunch at Mathias’s house. He showed us his shamba (filled with cassava, some bee hives, maize, avocado, etc.) and told us about all of the planning that goes into harvesting his crops (when to harvest, who to hire, how many to hire, etc.) so that he can make a decent profit. We met his daughter, Robi, who is about to start her pre-university (form 5 and 6) in Tanzania so she can become a lawyer. The efforts Mathias has taken to ensure that his children (I want to say six, but it might only be four) can be educated is something to be admired. (I won’t necessarily discuss the details, but he knows how to work the system.) For lunch, we were treated to a course of brown ugali (made with millet and cassava instead of maize creating a much doughier experience), eggs and tomato, and a fruit salad. Along the way back in to town, a woman tried to give me her baby (mostly as a joke, but also with serious intentions behind it [i.e. we would be able to provide for it much easier]). Being a bit confused and taken aback, I smiled a shook its hand, and she proceeded to hand it to Marla. When we returned the baby, Mathias informed us of what the woman said. Because I didn’t take the baby, she had informed me, “I will give it to your wife who will have many more some day.”

Throughout our entire stay, we have had the pleasure of children shouting “Mzungu” and running up to shake our hands. Kuria has been my overall favorite. Kids would do double takes, some would stop completely in their tracks, others would smile and come right up to play with us. One incident was while we were waiting in Tanzania a couple of small girls in their school uniforms (I don’t know if that had actually been from school or not because it was still early) decided we were curious enough to venture up closer. They first spotted us outside the shop where we were buying cloth and would peak around some of the hanging sheets and smile. Later, they spotted us again as we moved down the road a bit. Eventually, they overcame their shyness (though, not enough to talk despite all my efforts to practice a little Swahili) and came up to us. One girl planted herself against Marla while the other explored the strange hair that happened to be growing on my arms, legs, face, and head. At one point, she would play with the hair on my head, slowly drop her hand to gently brush me on the tip of the nose, and laugh. I regret that I didn’t think to get a picture of them. My overall favorite from the trip, however, was while we were walking in Kehancha. We passed a group of children playing in front of some stores, initially oblivious to our passing. A boy turns and spots us. Every fiber of his body explodes with excitement and lifts him off the ground, his knees come up, his waist bends, his arms (bent at the elbow) shake in front of him, fists clenched as he shouts “Mzungu!” at the top of his lungs to alert his friends. I think it’s the most excited I’ve seen anyone ever.

Both times we left Kuria, we had to leave very early (i.e. 5:30) to catch the bus leaving Migori for Nairobi. The first time through, I hopped off in Narok because Steph happened to be passing through as well, returning from a meeting in the Mara near Talek. We will actually be returning that way next week after visiting the Kakamega Forest Reserve just north of Kisumu. I will continue to try to write and catch up over the course of the next week, so expect more soon (about Mituntu, the Maasai and Somali Markets, the Kibera slums, etc.).

-Pat

Matatus- The World Turned 90 Degrees

Simply put, I don’t fit. Usually I get stuck somewhere (inevitably) where my knees are in my chin or my head is ducked so I can avoid hitting the ceiling on the bumpy roads. Matatus (the ones I have ridden at least) are anywhere from seven to fourteen passenger (this is usually advertised mockingly on the sides of the matatu. I say mockingly because, in the rural areas, this number can reach over twenty [we have been in one with twenty-five {three were hanging out the side door}]) vans with an appearance resembling something close to an old VW hippie van (that’s the best I can come up with for now. A picture will come later). Each matatu looks completely different. Usually, they have some sort of sticker of a celebrity (we have seen Obama), a US sports team (I have seen the Philadelphia Eagles and the Chicago White Sox), or some phrase. Some are painted wildly (the ones I have not ridden [which are much larger] are usually the ones like this and have themes, usually with rappers [Tupac seems to be the most popular] bursting out the side [a fairly nice paint job is required]). In Kuria, the matatus are station wagons. Supposedly, they are only four passenger vehicles, but they won’t leave without eight. This requires that two people share the driver’s seat. However, we have been in one that has had fourteen. (Five were in the front, five were in the back, and four more were in the trunk. [One in front was a child, but still…])

People hop on and off wherever they need. Occasionally, there is a main stage where you can find a number of them, but then you have to deal with the touts (I may have called them tauds earlier?) who fight over you (sometimes pulling you [never forcefully, more or less suggestively]) to get you on their vehicle (they are paid a commission per passenger they find). The conductor sits in back and hangs his head out the window or (when the matatu is packed [which it usually is]) standing on the ledge with the door open to look for more passengers. The driver’s job is to drive wildly (usually swerving back and forth to avoid potholes and find the least bumpy path. In Nairobi, it isn’t so much swerving as it is forcing, usually to avoid traffic [there is never not a jam] and find the lane moving fastest [on occasion, this requires use of the sidewalk].). The conductor and driver communicate with a variety of taps and signals (usually hitting the roof with a coin twice) to know when to stop (or sometimes, in Nairobi, when they can switch lanes).

In almost every matatu, the music is blaring. (In Nairobi, this can sometimes be coupled with a TV hooked up in back playing the accompanying music video [or something completely random].) Usually, it is something in Swahili that I don’t understand. Sometimes it is American. Occasionally, it is a CD. With the exception of the volume, it’s kind of nice.

My first experience with a matatu was in Mbakalo as Simon and I were travelling to visit the first set of sponsored OVC. We found ourselves passing through the foothills of Mt. Elgon. Large boulders loomed ominously over the small mud huts, each intermingling sporadically across the rolling hills. I spotted men bathing in rivers, women carrying stalks of bananas (balanced on head, both shoulders, and in both hands), and people idly lying under trees. At each stop, people come up to the windows with baskets of fruit and food, displaying their items neatly, arranging them as if bouquets. In larger towns, people come up with other merchandise (locks, socks, movies, drinks, candleholders, etc.). On our trip, Simon treated me to a bag of groundnuts.
When you find a full matatu, the process can be efficient. Depending on the time of day, it can take a while for a matatu to come (when on the side of the road) or people to fill (at the stages). I was shocked the first time I rode one in Nairobi. Not only did the matatu fill only to capacity, it left the stage without being full. Overall, it’s not the most comfortable means of transportation, and it lacks a certain independence that a car affords, but it’s a cheap means of transport, and it gets you where you need to go. It fits with the rest of what I have observed about Kenya, it works.

-Pat