Entries by Sarah Anderson

During my last few days in Ugunja I paid attention to the sounds that I had gotten used to. The sporadic bursts of song around our compound, the kids laughing or crying, the roosters that every morning told me that dawn had arrived, the wailing that flared up whenever someone in the village died, and the pumping dance music that would play for hours after the burial. I heard a new bird calling outside our hut that seemed to have about 20 different songs that it sang in succession - it reminded me of a gift from my grandma, an audobon clock that plays a different bird song for each hour. I'll miss these sounds, especially in Canada where I stay indoors and closed off from the outside more.

We had lovely goodbyes with our host family, and the UCRC staff. We soaked up the wit and grace of Luo culture while our friends and family made their goodbye speeches. Julian and I made our own speeches too, and did a pretty good job for two who grew up outside of an oral culture. I think we picked up a little of our friends' speaking skills by osmosis, but I don't know how long that will last.

Today we're in Lusaka, Zambia, the city Julian lived in from 1985 to 1988. Yesterday was the fourth anniversary of our "first date". We are so happy to have gone through this experience here together. We're on our way to South Africa, and will fly back to Canada on April 12.

So for now, at least, we're going to stop blogging. Julian and I will continue to work with UCRC by helping to develop a UCRC friends network in Canada, and continuing to build the partnership between UCRC and my organization, The Working Centre. So we may continue the blog as new UCRC projects develop.

Thanks for reading! We've both enjoyed reflecting on our experience here, and knowing that people back home were reading it.

See you in Canada!

It's Monday and I'm sitting in the UCRC computer lab, while the students around me practice their new computer skills. I'm in a grumpy mood because I just found out that all of my files were erased off the network over the weekend. There's a lot of new tech guys helping out with the MS training, but they don't know the UCRC system. Luckily I had some important files saved in other places on the network. But some important stuff is just lost. Oh well.

We only have two and a half weeks left here. The UCRC website is almost done! I'm proud of the small and big ways that the writing skills of some staff members have improved throughout the process of putting the website together.

Last Sunday Julian and I made our second venture into community fundraising, Kenya-style. Fundraising here is much more fun that bake sales or car washes back home. They call it harambee (ha - ram - bay), which in Kiswahili means to bring resources or energy or ideas together. When Kenya gained independence in the '60s the first president, Kenyatta, encouraged Kenyans to use the spirit of harambee to build up the nation. From what I can tell, this spirit is deeply embedded in UCRC's community development work.

Fundraising harambees are kooky events to an outsider like me. In this case the self-help group of Betty's mom Mary (named Twelve Friends Women Group) held a harambee to help Mary pay for her father's funeral. With pockets full of small change, participants use fines, counter-fines, dares, wit, surprises, bravado, dancing and singing to compel, embarrass, or harass other participants into giving up their money.

Usually each group member invites several guests but this harambee was more intimate - just a few guests were present. Julian, Betty, her friend Maximilla, and I arrived in the late morning to a house full of women drinking tea and eating homemade donuts, dressed in their brown, orange and red group uniforms.

The drama and chaos of harambee humour began when one of the members showed up late. The group ordered her to pay a fine of 20 shillings. She threw her coin into the collection plate and, to make up for her late appearance, she greeted each person in the room with a French-style cheek-to-cheek hug with a wiggle of the bum thrown in for added value. When she got to Julian, the women laughed hard. He was the only man present, let alone strange, skinny, white man!

Julian and I were at a definite disadvantage. We had to figure out the situation, interpreting the dramatic gestures, songs and laughter while undertanding only the odd word of Dhuluo. Betty translated when she could. To start the event, everyone was supposed to introduce themselves and put money into the plate based on how much they respected their name. If people liked how you introduced yourself or how much money you gave, the group would dance and sing while adding their own coins.

Amongst all the fun at such events, there are lots of questions that go through my mind. How much should I give? How much will others give? Do people expect that as a foreigner I’ll give more? Should I give more? Does that perpetuate a crappy dynamic? Funnily enough, we were able to shove these questions aside when we realized at the last minute that we forgot to bring our money along. Julian and I hardly had enough to introduce ourselves in a manner respectful to our names. Just in time, Betty discreetly passed me a folded up bill and we were back in the game.

When Betty was introduced and the group rose to their feet, I got up and danced along. People were surprised by my dancing. I try my best to copy the local dance moves and I think that for a whitey I’m not doing too bad. Dancing is important to me, especially in this context where it gives me a way of communicating to strangers who I cannot talk with. I love these "dance conversations." Whenever I got up with the group to dance, the women across from me kept catching my eye and laughing.

One woman received a lively response when she dramatically introduced herself as a nursery school teacher. The only part we could understand was the Dhuluo word for teacher, and her description of teaching vowel sounds to the children. She got all the women to join in and say: "Tha tho they tha thu!" The group contributed lots of money to her plate. Another woman scolded us for not dancing with enough enthusiasm after her introduction. Everyone threw in their coins then got up to give her a more proper song and dance. Julian had not danced at all the whole time. He is more shy about his dancing in Kenya than he was in Canada. I wanted to get the whole group to put money in to force Julian to dance, but before I could, he got up and did a little dance after Mary introduced herself. The women laughed.

While someone else was introducing herself, I told Julian he should fine the group for being the only man at the harambee. Betty agreed. To order a fine, you usually have to produce a large amount to encourage fine payments. All Julian and I had were two US dollars that happened to be in Julian’s wallet. He produced the dollar, stood up and said he was really dissapointed to be the only man, and that we should all put money in his plate to help him feel less lonely. He passed the plate around to each person and collected a nice pile. The women laughed when Betty translated, pleased by his money-making complaint.

I used the other US dollar to get one of the women who was particularly good at dancing to give me some impromtu lessons. Everyone started singing and she danced over and started shaking her shoulders, something I've always been bad at doing. I tried to keep up. We faced each other and shook our chests, bending over so that our heads almost touched at waist level. Butts out and up. I was laughing, Betty was laughing, Julian was laughing and everyone else was laughing. "You really danced!" Betty said when I sat down.

After everyone had introduced themselves, guests gave a final offering and the group leader and secretary counted the money. In total about 6,000 Kenyan shillings were raised, or $100 Canadian. Not bad! Especially since in most cases 1 dollar stretches further here than it does back in Canada. We were served an amazing feast of chicken, tilapia fish, beef, skuma wiki and ugali, then took a Matatu back to Ugunja.

I like the idea of doing some harambee-style resource gathering back home. I don't think I have a good enough sense of humour or drama to organize a dancing, singing, hooplah event like Mary's. But I have other ideas - ways to promote the idea of friends and families pooling money to help each other.

Back in Canada last fall, together with friends, Julian and I had been mulling over ideas on how to raise small funds together to support a friend or family member, someone whose work needed support. We thought of two ideas. One idea was to encourage friends and family to donate money for a specific cause. For example, we thought of supporting an organic farmer friend of ours who wants to buy land but can't afford a down payment.

The other idea was to gather a group of young people doing creative work and each contribute $5 or $10 a month so that at the end of the year one or two people in the group could benefit from a group grant. With both ideas, the donations per individual would be small, but the numbers donating would hopefully make the total worthwhile. It's so similar to the spirit of harambee that I'm encouraged to really try it out when we get home. It works here. I know we'll get into issues of accountability and such things, but I'd still like to try. What do you think?

Here's an article I put together for The Working Centre (my work in Canada) newsletter.


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During my internship at UCRC I've been interested in the points where UCRC and The Working Centre's work intersect.

One intersection is the commitment to the idea of self-help. Both organizations help people use their own skills and gifts to improve their lives and create community. Whether I am sitting at The Working Centre helping someone with their resume, or at a UCRC training observing a lively discussion, I can see a transformation taking place as people learn about themselves.

I sat down with four UCRC staff members to get some of their ideas on self-help and UCRC's committment to community development through using the resources within the community.

Victorine Atieno coordinates the library and microfinance projects.
Bernard Ochieng coordinates the community policing program.
Joyce Akoth assists in the library and with the orphans and vulnerable children program
Rachel is on the UCRC documentation team

Here are their thoughts…

On the importance of using local resources in community work:

Joyce
In a real sense no one can give you the whole of heaven in their hand. We must start just from the tools and knowledge we have.... to make you earn your life.

Victorine
I remember when I first joined UCRC, we were training women in business development. Half of the 150 we trained received a grant to start their business, and half of them did not. Later, we visited to find out how far they had gone with their business. Where I was so much encouraged, was that those who had the training, but not the grant, were doing so much better than those who were given the grant. They started specifically with what they had and were fully committed so their businesses did well.

Bernard
In peace building we don't need to wait for somebody to come from Nairobi to solve conflicts in our area. It is an advantage for us to train ourselves on how to solve conflicts.

In the case of community policing, we trained young men who were respected in the community on how to detect and respond to conflicts. They were trained on active non-violence, and crime prevention also.

The police in Kenya over the years have protected the interests of the rich. The introduction of community policing was to help the police transform from a force to a service. There was a very bad relationship between the community and the police.
Now those trained are often able to detect conflict before violence happens.

Rachel
Top-down development does not bear fruits, as we've seen from experience. If you talk about the green revolution, the government brought fertilizers. But then the people didn't feel like they owned it. The government brought it today, but people knew they would do something else tomorrow.

If you focus on using the available resources, you learn from other farmers. There is one farmer who grows a local variety of kale and does not need to buy seeds. Others make compost using leaves from local plants. Others plant trees for firewood and fruit. There are many people to learn from.


On how to identify community resources:

Rachel
UCRC facilitates this process by first holding a meeting to identify the problems in the community.

Together we then try to at least note down some of the possible solutions. Openly each person says that as an individual, "Okay, I'm capable of doing this and this". They just volunteer because they know themselves. Somebody says, "I'm a carpenter." "I can be a leader." Or "I'm good at painting." In the community there are even those that are engineers but because they have retired, nobody knows that they have this knowledge.

On learning about personal strengths through involvement with UCRC:

Victorine
I joined UCRC when I was just a pure green person from highschool. I didn't know anything about the community, and I did not have any skills, because I had not gone to any college or training institution. Being at UCRC has developed my confidence. I can face even a crowd and talk to them. Apart from that, through working on different projects at UCRC I've also identified my career, which I plan now to develop.


On working together:

Joyce
I like working with UCRC, simply because, they are cooperative. If I have a problem, I can approach anybody, and that person will help me to overcome it. We as the staff we work hand in hand. And I really appreciate that.

Computer training began yesterday at UCRC. There are six 2 hour lessons in a day, with around 15 students attending classes Monday to Friday. That means only 3 or 4 computers leftover for the many UCRC staff to use in their day to day work. Things are hectic, and it seems like everyone including Julian and I, have a million things to do. In the midst of the chaos I'm getting lots of quiet time when there's nothing to do until a computer is available.

In one such quiet moments, Victorine, was sitting beside me at a large wooden table in the library reading the Nation, one of Kenya's daily newspapers. She glanced up from her paper and told me that she was applying to do a distance education course in Business and Administration. She is 5 years younger than me, but has had two kids (one, Macy Milke is only months old and still breastfeeding). Together with her husband Charles, Victorine decided not to have any more children for now, and instead to focus her energy on her own career development.

I asked her what opportunities there are around Ugunja for someone with business administration skills. Youth usually have to leave for the city in order to get a job, because of little opportunity around Ugunja, though it is a rapidly growing town. Victorine plans to use her Business Admin skills at UCRC for several years, but thinks that eventually she’ll leave the area and find a job in another NGO, a business, or a government institution.

Victorine said that compared to most around here, she is privileged to have the chance to study and pursue her career goals. Partly it is thanks to her equal relationship with her husband, that Victorine has these opportunities. Charles and Victorine are part of a small, but growing minority of young people approaching their marriage in new ways.

They live in town away from their “dala” (home compound) in the village. They have no extended family in town to turn to for childcare support, so Charles cares for the children during the day while he runs his business in Ugunja. Victorine laughed and said he will even sometimes cook lunch for himself and the kids – something quite rare in a local married man. Neighbours used to laugh at Charles when they saw him doing woman’s work like fetching water or even, when Victorine had recently given birth, doing dishes, but he ignored them. Now some of the men around their rental housing compound have also taken on some of their wives’ tasks.

Earlier in the day the Victorine and I were getting a description of the UCRC library ready for the new website. Most people around here see books as only useful for school or career development. Victorine knew all to well, before listing off all of the things most woman do during their days – working the farm, fetching gallons of water, fetching firewood, preparing meals, scrubbing dishes, doing laundry by hand, and watching their children – that woman’s responsibilities leave little time for reading. Men might have less chores, so more opportunity to read, but since most of their leisure time is in the evening, the lack of electric light makes it difficult for them to read.

Victorine, and other staff at UCRC love reading. George, the IT coordinator told me about how Luos love literature. He recommended a bunch of Kenyan writers to me, and I’m making my way through the list.

It was good to have a close chat with Victorine. I’ve been missing talking to women. I’ve had some great talks with Betty too, usually when I’m helping her to wash dishes or prepare dinner. But what with language barriers and the busyness of the women around me, these talks are not as often as I would like.

*********

Funny things overheard during computer training:

While George was teaching students to save files he approached a student, pointed at her monitor and said “Can Jesus come and save that too”

When Paul was teaching students how to choose “No” in a dialogue box, he said “Say no” and a bunch of students said “No”. Paul said, “Not with your mouth, with the mouse!”

UCRC activities

Last week a couple hundred people were at UCRC for the announcement of the new free computer training program. They came from youth groups, women’s groups, groups for people with disabilities, schools, various government ministries, churches, libraries.

The group sat in the shade of an open-sided, tin-roofed conference room, recently built behind the UCRC office buildings. Only a handful put up their hands when asked if they had used computers or had computer training before. Many said they had seen computers, but not touched one.

Last fall when UCRC applied for this Microsoft grant, they first discussed whether access to computers in Siaya District would really help to improve people’s livelihoods. They decided yes, computers could help.

Computers will be used to document local history and traditions, to create self-employment opportunities, to communicate with husbands or family members who live in distant cities, and to conduct research. They also decided that it was important for the communities to be skilled in current technologies, to avoid being left behind.

Student of symbols

When the Microsoft grant was announced, Paul Omondi said he was nervous. He said the community would have a huge interest in accessing computer training. If someone walked down a dirt road towards Paul’s village carrying a computer on their head, a large crowd would gather around. People really want to know more about this technology.

I got excited about Paul’s image of someone walking with a computer on their head. Everywhere I walk I see women and children carrying things on their heads: jerry cans of water, sacks of maize, market baskets, bundles of firewood. I liked the combination of tradition and new technology in the image of a woman carrying a computer on her head.

It seemed to me like the perfect image for a logo for the computer training program. But when I mentioned it to various staff the reaction was only lukewarm. I was surprised.

I asked Aggrey about the image. He explained locally people associate things being carried on their head as burdens. Not a positive image for the computer training program. I hadn't thought of that. Probably because I've never had to carry my basic needs like water and food on my head in order to access them.

It was a good reminder of how our personal histories influence the way we perceive symbols. When you live in a new culture, you don't only struggle to learn a new verbal language. You also have to try to find your way through a new language of symbols. Julian and I have been finding this process fun but humbling.

My lucky streak of healthy days in Kenya was interrupted two weekends
ago. I woke up in the middle of the night, feverish, achy and dizzy.
Around 4am I tried to head to the latrines (about 150 ft from our ot)
and realized that I wouldn't be able to take more than a few steps
without passing out.

Julian was very kind. I woke him up and he walked with me step by
step, my hand on his shoulder for support. We stopped along the way
so that I could put my head down and get oxygen back to my head. He
even came into the latrine stall with me so that I could hold on to
his leg while squatting.

We decided I should visit the UCRC-affiliated health clinic once the
day began. But when he woke up, Paul suggested that since it seemed
serious, I should go right away to a private hospital in Kisumu.
There I would be able to get tests done quickly and have access to
whatever medication I needed.

At this point it was 7am and I was still taking frequent, urgent trips
to the latrines. We decided to rent a taxi instead of taking a
mini-bus for the one and a half hour drive to Kisumu. It was very
expensive, but this way we'd be able to stop if needed

Aggrey, the director of UCRC arranged a taxi for me. Soon we were at
the hospital, blood taken, tests done and I was hooked up to an IV.
They admitted me into a huge private room with a terrace, living room
area, bedroom and bathroom. Like the rest of the hospital, my room
was modern and bright.

I got better quickly: it had been some kind of GI infection, and
antibiotics and fluids got rid of it. I spent two and a half days
lying about and relaxing, reading Harry Potter in French and watching
movies. Julian got caught up on work we needed to do using Internet
cafes around Kisumu.

I felt grateful that our travel health insurance covered everything,
but felt funny about my privilege and easy access to the high end of a
multi-tiered health system. Back in Ugunja many people can't afford
the private or public hospitals - even the lower fees of
community-based health clinics are a problem. The UCRC-affiliated
clinic gives many drugs out for free to people who just can't afford
to pay – but this compromises their ability to financially sustain
themselves.

I'm sitting in my ot on Sunday afternoon. Julian left this morning
for Kisumu to take his dad to the airport. John was able to visit us
for a couple of days because he had meetings in Nairobi for a
Greenpeace contract. This is one of the first times that I've been in
Ugunja without Julian. We're looking forward to having a little more
space from each other when we're back in Canada. We're learning a lot
about our relationship – challenging but ultimately good for us.

UCRC has cracked me open
I'm feeling energized by UCRC. There was a moment last week when I
was flipping through the latest Alternatives Journal issue (special
delivery from Canada) about climate change. I realized that I cared a
lot about what I was reading. It was a good feeling.

For the last several years my ability to care deeply about certain
things went dormant. Maybe because it was getting harder to feel
hopeful, I withdrew. I still knew I cared, and tried to shape my
actions with this caring. But I wasn't feeling much.

Being around UCRC staff like Paul Omondi, Aggrey Omondi, Rose Ong'ech,
Paul Odumbe and Bernard Ochieng has woken up my feelings. They work
very hard at community development work and are unabashedly determined
and, I think, hopeful about making positive change. I'm grateful to
them for helping to crack me open.

Work continues on the UCRC website
I'm proud of the work we're doing on the UCRC website. Aggrey, Julian
and I assembled a team of the strongest writers at UCRC to work on
creating content for the new UCRC website. The current website was
written, programmed and designed by foreign volunteers. Now UCRC
wants to take ownership of their website.

Creating the new content is an interesting challenge. The writing is
in English, not the first language of UCRC staff. Also, since most
UCRC staff members have little access to the Internet, they aren't
familiar with the particularities of writing for online publication.
It's been exciting and challenging to support their writing and peer
editing process, while making sure that it's their process, not mine.
I've learned a lot from the experience.

Stay tuned for updates to the website. So far we've only added one or
two new pages on the what's new page. We're planning to update a
totally new version of the website in February.

I'm sitting on the front stoop of our ot listening to Sarah Harmer with headphones, catching the last of the day's sunlight. Today I had a very quiet day - I stayed home from work sick for the first time since being in Kenya. Nothing major.

I finished a book by Kenyan writer Ngugi wa' Thiongo, recommended by one of my UCRC coworkers - "The Devil on the Cross". It is a fierce book written in the early eighties as a criticism of foreign control of Kenya's resources. I was happy to read something so biting and openly angry, as most Kenyans are polite and careful in what they say to me about the colonial past and what Ngugi would call the neo-imperialist present, leaving me wondering what people really think.

We just returned last week from our Christmas / New Year's holiday. We spent Christmas day with family friends in Nairobi, and then headed to the Indian Ocean to bring in the new year on Lamu island. I read my first Agatha Christie mysteries (four of them!), swam, danced a little, ate lots of mangoes and fresh juices, and took many bumpy bus rides.

I feel really happy to be back here in Ugunja. We only have a short time left (just over two months) - but it is enough time to get a lot of work done, and to enjoy our life here a bit longer.

The holiday was good for me. Before we left for Nairobi, I was bogged down by feelings of anxiety and guilt. Even though Julian and I did good work and fit into the community as well as we could expect, I felt like we weren't doing enough. Yuck. It was a bad feeling. I was putting too much pressure on myself and even times when I took a little healthy space to do my own thing I felt guilty. Now that we're back, I feel much more relaxed and patient with myself.

Things I'm excited about:

- Collaborating with my host sister Betty to write content for the new health clinic website. Betty now works full-time at the health clinic as an information officer as well as dental technician.

- Receiving a few late Christmas packages from family and friends that I know are coming but haven't arrived yet

- Reading the second Harry Potter book in french thanks to a lovely Christmas gift from my aunt Sheila

- Training UCRC staff in writing skills

- Travelling to South Africa with close friends Shannon and Matt in March

December 13, 2005

This past weekend Julian had some fluish symptoms (but without a fever, which means it wasn't malaria). I had angsty intestinal issues and woke up today with an achy, heavy head. This is the first time that either of us has felt sick in Ugunja.

We are coming to the halfway point of our internships at UCRC. Up until just lately I felt like I had lots of time to accomplish everything (building relationships, training, learning, experiencing life here). Now all of a sudden half our time is over. It makes me feel a sense of urgency – I don’t want to miss out on experiencing things here.

I will continue to do my best. Our initial excitement has dipped down and now we have to be more intentional about reaching out to people, and asking questions, and learning the language.



I learned a song in Dhuluo this weekend. It's actually a song of comfort, a gospel to be sung to yourself when you feel that things have gotten too hard. I heard Conslatta singing it last weekend while hanging clothes on the line, and started to sing the melody with her.

My main teacher was Conslatta's 12 year old son Owino. He carefully corrected my rythym and notes, and amazed me by being able to pick out four harmonies to the melody I was singing, like he was pulling them out of the air.

Each meal, our host family talks in Dhuluo and the language washes over us as we pick out the occasional words that we understand. When something is particularly interesting, someone will translate for us. In general though, we are left with heads full of sounds that don't mean anything.

Learning a song is a good excuse to take the time needed to pin the sounds down and give them meaning. I find it really helpful to write the words out, so that I can see them spelled.

During our first day at UCRC Aggrey, the director, started to talk of the importance of documenting and honouring local stories and traditions. My ears perked up.

One of his ideas was to encourage students to research the history of local schools and let the stories of successful past students be used for inspiration. Another was to host a storytelling competition to celebrate oral tradition. Another to create posters with photos of local farmers, workers, marketers and their stories as collected by local volunteers.

As I got excited by the idea of trying to implement any one of these projects, Aggrey said, “We need to help people to express their own stories of their community, in their own ways.” I was reminded of how important it is that the main energy for these kinds of projects comes from the community, not from outsiders.

There’s a lot to learn from UCRC when it comes to documenting local stories. Luo culture is traditionally an oral culture, but the elders who carry the most insight into local traditions are dying. Meanwhile the middle generation is challenged by the impact of HIV/AIDS and soil infertility. At UCRC, there is a sense of urgency to document as much as possible about local traditions and skills before the information is lost irretrievably.

Paul, my coworker and host “brother” is trained in Geographic Information Systems and he talks about using this computer tool to map out traditional sacred areas, which are becoming lost to short-term firewood and agricultural needs. He talks about the challenge of documenting the skills and knowledge of those with special talents like traditional healers and rainmakers. The elders are often protective of their gift, and suspicious of anyone who asks them to record their practices. Though sons or daughters have traditionally inherited the talents and skills of their parents, but so much has changed in just a few decades that this inheritance is threatened.

Before coming to Kenya, I was really inspired by an American artist with a similar focus. Anna Callahan records conversations with strangers in public spaces. In one project, she rode the bus lines of her city, asking the other riders “What are you and what aren’t you looking forward to?” The answers varied from descriptions of what someone planned to cook for dinner, to another person’s biggest hopes and dreams. Using these recorded voices she sets up kiosks at the bus terminal, so that others could listen to what people had to say.

The recordings give people in public spaces an opportunity to eavesdrop into each other’s intimate lives, and in doing so, feel more connected to the strangers around them. Anna Callahan brings some of my favourite things together - voice, story, and creativity - in a form of activism that has the potential to connect people and build community.

After finding out about Anna’s art, I began reading more and more about the community-based arts movement. I thought of ideas for my own projects but found it hard to find the time or courage to start any of them. I feel very happy to be continuing learning about the art of documenting community knowledge while at UCRC, and am hoping it will give me the motivation to do some of my own projects when I return home.

In an earlier blog entry, Julian mentioned that we are trying to work against the myth in Kenya that wazungu (the plural of the word “mzungu” which means “foreigner”) know everything. My mom emailed me that she was curious to know why this myth exists. Good question.

It is probably misleading for us to generalize that Kenyans think any one thing. Kenya is made up of over 40 different tribes plus a small population of Indian and British descent. The Luo people are the second largest tribe. Kenyans subscribe to a variety of religions including traditional beliefs, Christianity, Islam and Hinduism. They speak many languages, and Kenyans we meet are often tri-lingual or more.

Opinions about wazungu are varied: besides being perceived by some as bearers of knowledge, wazungu are also sometimes perceived as freaky, immoral, or laughable.

I asked Paul why he thought some Kenyans associate wazungu with superior knowledge. He said that the people of Kenya were taught and governed by British colonizers for about 70 years (Kenya became an independent country only in 1963). The Brits who arrived in the 1800's to colonize carried with them racist ideas about Africans, and a love for their own British traditions and beliefs. Since they controlled the new schools, churches and government, their values and racist beliefs were promoted in a systemic way. Kenyan traditions and values were pushed down and undervalued, eventually by Kenyans themselves as well as the Brits. Even now, that mentality can be difficult to shake. Just one of the complicated effects of Kenya's colonial baggage.

What I’ve gathered from learning a little about the history of international development is that aid and development efforts have tended to reinforce this myth. Even now some NGOs carry out development programs without inviting meaningful local participation in the planning and implementation process. Not enough attention has been paid to the local knowledge and skills that can be used to address a community’s needs.

There is also the uncomfortable fact that many wazungu have a lot of privilege: easy access to education, health care, relative wealth. This is especially true of the ones, like me, who can afford to fly in and volunteer, work, or be a tourist in a country like Kenya. From a short-term perspective it is only practical for a Kenyan who is trying to improve her livelihood, or the welfare of her community, to try to make connections with wazungu who may offer direct access to donations, networking opportunities, and trendy new skills. When thinking about long-term sustainability of community development it makes more sense for Kenyans and wazungu to focus on shifting the balance of power, and identifying the resources that local communities have to address their own problems.

That's why I like UCRC so much - they focus on addressing local issues with local resources. And this is also why I feel good about this program that I'm doing, especially because of the program’s emphasis on the sharing of skills. While we learn from UCRC and share our skills where we can, Charles from UCRC is in Kitchener learning at The Working Centre and sharing his skills.

It seems like in this area of Kenya, where Christian faith plays such
a large role in peoples' lives, prayer exists as an undercurrent to
everything: work, family, weather, food.

For example: This past week, Betty, occasional dental technologist
and full-time mother, said "I am really praying that I will get a
position as a referendum day clerk*". So far, just about every
meeting that we have been a part of has started, and often ended, with
a prayer. And in the ongoing saga of Julian's dietary restrictions,
Paul sympathetically offered to pray for Julian so that during his
stay here he can eventually eat: bananas, oranges, grapefruit, mangos,
sweet potatoes and papaya. Hearing this, Paul's brother laughed and
asked, "Can prayer help that?"

The typical Canadian detachment from religion does not make a lot of
sense to people here. With only an ambiguous sense of my own faith, I
skirt around the issue, responding to frequent questions of "Are you a
Christian?" or, more strange to me, "Are you saved?" with a
non-committal "I was raised Catholic." But I am less ambiguous in my
response to peoples' prayers; I feel fascinated by and drawn to their
rhythm, energy, fervency and hopefulness.

In Dark Star Safari, by Paul Theroux, the writer tells about his trip
from Cairo to Cape Town (Egypt to South Africa). He writes about the
role that Christian faith can play in encouraging Africans to focus on
heaven, and forget the crap that they deal with in their life on
earth. "With (the promise of heaven) you were conditioned to brush
off the years of drought, the poor harvests, the abandoned
schoolhouse, the damaged bore hole with its trickle of water…, and
Kenya's horrible AIDS statistics: they were mere blips in the vale of
tears on the way to heaven" (p169). I think that mixed with his
frustration is admiration for people who use faith as one of their
tools.

I saw a different perspective on faith's power at the Change Team
graduation that I attended during my second week in Ugunja. This
group of 40 people from local villages trained for two years to be
able to teach each other new skills (like sanitary latrine building,
sustainable agriculture, facilitation, and theatre) and bring these
skills back to their friends and neighbours.

While discussing future action, a Change Team member referred to the
story of Moses leading his people to Canaan, making the point that her
community was not in Canaan yet, but celebrating the fact that they
were on their way. Response was enthusiastic, and though most of the
following discussion happened in the Luo language, I heard the word
Canaan repeated throughout the next half hour, in a call and response
group prayer. Here faith brought energy and inspiration for change.

From my outsider position I'm finding these different sides of faith
interesting: the power of faith to inspire people to change their
situation, and the way it can make hellish things on earth survivable.

* Unfortunately, after waiting at the office for two days straight,
Betty gave up on the clerk position. With strong hints of nepotism,
the 300 clerks hired in Siaya District were family and friends of the
Returning Officer. Though the positions were supposed to go to local
underemployed educated youth (19 - 35 year olds who have finished high
school and maybe post-secondary education but face little local
opportunity for work), many of the positions went to teachers who are
currently on school break.

We made it to Kisumu (the closest city, a little South East of us and sitting right on the big and beautiful Lake Victoria) yesterday to get money and use the internet. So we have now put up a bunch of new photos on our photo gallery. Unfortunately the ATM machine wasn't working and it was a Sunday, so we weren't able to get money out. So here we are in Kisumu again today and the ATM was working so now we aren't broke anymore.

It takes anywhere from 1 hour (if you're really lucky) to 2.5 hours (if you're unlucky) to get to Kisumu from Ugunja by matatu (minibus). Today's was jammed full and somehow Julian got one of the prized front seats while I was in a particularly cramped back of the bus seat. At one point I counted about 24 people in the bus which is the size of a minivan. Luckily there's been a crackdown on Matatu safety in Kenyan during the last couple of years - so now you can usually hope for a seatbelt and a minimum of cramming and jamming.

Enjoy the photos!

Sarah

November 6, 2005

Today Julian and I had our first ride by boda-boda, the bicycle taxis that take you from border to border (places that minibuses and cars can’t easily get to). Bikes are a significant mode of transport around here as they fare better on the always changing condition of the non-paved roads that connect farm to farm and village to village. The sturdy old-school looking bikes that people use all seem to come in one size and shape (no matter how small the person riding the bike) and with only one gear, though the roads are hilly and muddy during the rainy seasons. There are reinforcing irons attached to the front and back forks to give more support, and a heavy metal carrying racks over the back tire for stacking cargo (I saw someone carrying five milk crates piled on top of each other on their bike, and another person carrying a large basket full of fish from Lake Victoria). When the bike is being used for taxi-ing, the back carrying rack is covered with a cushion, and small handle bars are installed under the bicycle seat so that the passenger can sit comfortably on the rack, feet supported on small metal posts that come out of the centre of the back wheel, and hold on to the handle bars for dear life.

You can imagine that our ride was very fun! Both Julian and I love to travel by bicycle, so it was nice to be riding in style. Though we were travelling for about 10 km on a fairly main road, from one town (Ugunja) to another (Siggomere), we saw only about 3 motor vehicles the entire time. At the sides of the road many people walked on foot, while other bicyclists whizzed by us, or were whizzed by by us. Bordering the road were small cafes, schools and homes, and mixed crop agricultural fields (especially corn, banana and kale) with clusters of trees with yellow flowers. In the distance there were rolling hills that are a lot bigger than the Niagara escarpment. During our return trip the boda-boda drivers were trying to beat the rain that was threatening to pour down, so they went extra fast, making the ride bumpy and upping the fear factor a few notches. And we still got poured on in the end.

We were travelling to visit a friend named Crispin that we met at the Ugunja Community Resource Centre who travels 15 km each way by bike to get to work and back. He is about our age and works as a farm extensionist – providing training and support in sustainable, organic agriculture to the farmers of this area. His main passion is nutrition, and he experiments with various foods to improve on the nutritional content of commonly eaten foods such as the polenta-like ugali and the porridge that children eat sometimes for breakfast.

Owning a bike is a fairly expensive thing here, and a major asset for community workers, as it allows them to get out and travel to the various outlying villages. Aggrey, the director of UCRC has asked whether there is any connection that can be made between UCRC and my organization (The Working Centre’s) Recycle Cycles bike recycling program. He would like to get funding to buy several bikes for use by the farm extension and community health workers, as they travel a lot in their work. I’m curious to see whether we could find funding for some bikes and bike maintenance tools. UCRC could then offer bike mechanic services as an income generator for the organization. If anyone knows of any funding sources for bikes as a sustainable transportation / community development tool, let me know.

October 31, 2005

Yesterday evening just before the sun set, Samuel, Paul Omondi’s sixteen year old brother, took Julian and I to see a river that runs near our village. The river was about 4 metres wide, with fast moving chocolate milk coloured water. Sloping down to the river were flat rocks that, despite their red colour and the red coloured soil in between them, reminded me a little of the Canadian shield.

A tall, slim man walking ahead of us took off his shoes and pants down at the river’s edge, to cross by foot. At its deepest, the river went up to his waist, but during the long rain season the river can be up to four times deeper. Samuel said people who live near it cross the river often to get to markets or churches or schools. There are plans (by the local council, I think) to construct a bridge soon. While we were standing looking at the river, a group of woman and children came to the other side to collect water in buckets and yellow jerry cans.

Every day Julian or I collect water in a big yellow jerry can. Our family compound neighbours another compound where there is a community health clinic and nursery school, both UCRC associated projects. Some Australians raised money for a well to be constructed at this compound, so juakali (a Swahili word for tradespeople and labourers meaning "those who labour in the sun") are there each day working on the well. The hole is dug, and now they are cementing it. Until construction is finished the water from this well is murky and can only be used for washing. We collect drinking water at a water tank at the nursery school. It collects rainwater, and is also, I think, connected to a water line. Some people treat their water with water guard, a chlorine solution, and some people boil the water, and some people drink it with no treatment. Julian and I were given a nice water filter from Rob & Kathy, family friends of Julian’s in Nairobi so we don’t have to worry about chlorine or boiling water.

I didn’t do so well at my first attempt to carry water on my head as the other women here do. After about 20 metres, a passing bicyclist had to stop and help me lower the water down again because my spindly arm muscles couldn't last long at balancing the load. I'll keep trying!