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12/4/09 Hello Again to you all,
I last wrote from the village of Nyaoga , where Rachel and I had spent two weeks touring, observing, and generally orienting ourselves to Projects Give Us Wings has undertaken in that area. From water projects to building a medical clinic, to organic farming, adult literacy and education, HIV/AIDS projects, and school building, we were wholly impressed by everything we had seen. The quantity and quality of the Projects in Nyaoga were truly remarkable, as were the people of the village who have been working so hard to see the projects realized, and the fact that Projects that have been deemed “finished” by GUW are still being expanded by the villagers… The clinic for example, has just recently laid the foundation for a maternity ward using money the villagers received by grant application to the Kenya government. Having had such a positive experience in Nyaoga, we were eagerly anticipating our trip to the other major GUW Project Site in Tororo , Uganda . The morning after I sent the update from Nyaoga, we once again packed our bags, said goodbye (and see you soon!) to the handful of people with whom we’d quickly become friends, and began our journey by matatu to Tororo, where we would spend the next two weeks becoming familiar with the work being done by GUW in Uganda.
Though our trip from Nyaoga to Tororo was fairly uneventful by the standard of E. African public transportation, the matatu that carried us on the first leg of our journey seemed worth a mention… Some of you may be familiar matatus (the public transportation system in most of E. Africa) by personal experience (if so, my condolences to you), or perhaps from one of my updates in 2006, when I described matatus as follows: “The deathtrap known in Kiswahili as a “matatu” is something like a cross between a rusty soda can, an over-packed clown car, and the vehicle that took last place in a demolition derby in 1981; matatus are usually seen hurtling at 150 mph down the craterous roads of Kenya, sometimes on fire, almost always bellowing smoke, and often on the wrong side of the road…” Matatus are usually 14 passenger vehicles that rarely travel with less then 25 people, a handful or two of chickens, and in Western Kenya , my dreaded nemeses, a few basins full of the “staring fish” and the “guppies”. Having regularly traveled using this means in ’06, I was quite familiar with and accustomed to matatus, or at least the typical, 14-passenger type… But the first leg of our trip to Tororo, an approximate 25 km (15 mile) stretch of uneven, dusty road from the village of Nyaoga to the small city of Kendu Bay, we were introduced to an entirely different breed of matatu… Like its counterparts in the rest of the country, the “Nyaoga matatu” tends to bellow smoke and leak fuel as it careens headlong into oncoming traffic with 25 or more terrified passengers on board. The difference is that the Nyaoga matatu, instead of being a 14-passenger van, is a regular 5-passenger station wagon…
Probably because of the fact that Rachel and I are wazungu, the people occupying “shotgun” when the matatu picked us up were stuffed, practically with a crowbar, into the already over-packed cargo area in the way back of the station wagon to play “jello” with the chickens and guppies. I was given the front seat with Rachel on my lap and another passenger or two between us and the driver as we proceeded toward Kendu Bay having broken the record for the most tightly packed matatu I had seen in the combined 14 or so months I’ve been in Kenya . Five minutes later, the record was broken again. When the matatu stopped to pick up a well-to-do looking African man who was about my height but slightly thicker than I am, the driver tried first to shove the man in the cargo area. When it was clear that it would be physically impossible to add another passenger to the way back, he then attempted to stuff the man into the middle seat, again, to no avail. With Rachel, myself, our luggage, and two other passengers in the front seat, he didn’t even try to put the new passenger on top of us. Instead, he opened the driver’s door, pushed the man into the driver’s seat, and then climbed into the vehicle and drove us the rest of the way to Kendu Bay while sitting on the man’s lap! I have never in my life seen so many people packed so tightly into such a small place, and if this wasn’t E. Africa , I might be willing to say I never will again… but of course I know better than that by now.
After reaching Kendu Bay , we boarded another matatu (the usual kind) to Kisumu. When we reached Kisumu, Elijah (who was traveling with us) and I each had separate errands to run in town before continuing on to Uganda, so I alighted early leaving Rachel and Elijah to travel with our luggage to the matatu stage. When they arrived at the stage, Elijah helped Rachel unload our bags, found a friend to keep an eye on Rachel while he ran his errand, and headed into the city. In the ten or so minutes between when Elijah left and I returned, while Rachel sat tethered to our bags in the crowded matatu station, she suddenly noticed an angry mob forming not more than 20 feet away from where she sat. Evidently, a young man had just stolen a cell phone from a matatu passenger, had been caught, and was now, at the center of the angry mob, preparing to face the Kenyan vigilante justice that is enacted on suspected thieves in the marketplace. Kenyans usually lynch mwizi (thieves) when they catch them rather than getting the police involved. In this particular case, they were going to burn the young man alive. There was a lady standing near Rachel who was explaining the situation to Rachel as it unfolded. Rachel kept trying to tell the lady that the mob shouldn’t hurt him, that a phone is not worth a human life. It is a good thing that she only expressed her feelings to the woman standing nearby, because Rachel didn’t know it at the time, but if someone tries to defend the mwizi or to prevent the lynching in any way, the person will be usually be lynched as well…
The mob had beaten the man to the ground and as people searched his pockets for the phone, and others retrieved a tire (for burning) and were rolling it toward the man while Rachel, who was bound to our luggage and unable to move, witnessed everything from an arm’s length, and was absolutely terrified. Fortunately for the young man and to Rachel’s great relief, the mob was unable to find the phone on his person, so they just took all of his money and let him go. The woman that was explaining the situation to Rachel justified the fact that, after being unable to prove the he had stolen the phone, the mob took all of the man’s money by saying, “You know, dees ah stleet boyz… Dey ah no good anyway.” I guess the man was lucky to get away with his life, though. When Elijah and I returned, of course we were shocked to hear what Rachel had witnessed practically from an arm’s length, but we were thankful that it did not end half as badly as it could have.
We continued on to Uganda on a series of matatus until we reached the boarder, where we found Lawi, the man who has been keeping the books for GUW in Africa , waiting for us in a private vehicle. Lawi drove us straight to the house in Tororo that is used as the GUW office, and that would be our home for the next two weeks while we toured and observed the Uganda projects.
For the most part, we enjoyed Uganda immensely. As the boarder between Kenya and Uganda was fairly arbitrarily drawn by the British, and has little ethnic or cultural significance, we found the people and the way of life in Tororo very similar to that of Western Kenya . There were only a handful of differences, one of which frustrated us to no end… Having been in E. Africa for some time now, we are both used to the commonly held notion, especially among villagers, that all whites have money. We have learned what things should cost, and while in Kenya , had become very good at bargaining until we get “the African price”, which is usually at least 50% less than the “mzungu-price”. In Kenya , if your first attempt to haggle for the “African price” is not successful, you simply say that you’ll find it cheaper some place else, and begin to walk away. At that point, the seller will almost always call you back and sell the item at a fair price.
In Uganda , on the other hand, this was not the case at all. We found it impossible to get the “African price” for anything; no matter what we tried, as if by principle, Ugandans would rather not make a sale then let an item go to a mzungu for anything less than twice what an African would pay. When we discussed this with Lawi, he said, “Eet eez plobably becose dey might know dat you ah a mzungu…” We laughed, and Rachel said, “I think they definitely know that we are wazungu…” Lawi thought about it for a minute, then a light bulb when on in his head, and he joined us in laughing. “Ohhhhhh,” he said, “Eet must be.” From that point on, Lawi usually did not let us shop for ourselves, but accompanied us for every purchase we made. If there is a way to buy things in Uganda for anything less than the mzungu-price, we still haven’t figured it out.
So we were in Uganda for two weeks; we spent the days examining the book-keeping, reporting, and accounting system that is currently being used by GUW. We also visited all of the groups GUW is supporting on the ground. Many of GUW’s Ugandan Projects are based on micro-financing and home repair, but there is also a medical clinic in the works in the rural Ugandan village of Kayoro , where GUW has seven active “self-help” and community development groups. While in Kayoro, we were taken to the home of a woman who has severe breast cancer… Unprompted, she took off her shirt and showed us the cancer; a massive tumor that was red, black, and in some places appeared to be bleeding. The cancer is obviously late stage, and Mary Francis, a Kayoro group member who was guiding us around the village, explained that the woman is unable to afford treatment of any kind, so when the pain is terrible, the community will pool their money and send someone to buy Panadol, which is basically Tylenol. Can you imagine?
We also saw a particularly remarkable housing project that was completed, with the support of GUW, by a group called “Ngiyo Ber Women’s Group” about a year and half ago. Ngiyo Ber is a self-help group of thirty or so women, and was formally registered in the late 1990s while the women were living in the Tororo slum of Bison. With the help from GUW, the women were able to build an estate with 32 homes on the outskirts of Tororo… When we walked into the estate, it was like a small paradise. There were fruit and vegetables growing everywhere, and each of the sturdy and handsome brick houses was adorned with beautiful, well kept flower gardens. Everyone seemed proud of the accomplishments of the group. As we toured the estate though, we noticed that an argument heating up among some of the women. Before long, the entirely community, including our guides, were furiously shouting at each other in Jap (the local language) and wildly gesticulating toward their houses. Rachel and I found a place in the shade and sat with the children while we waited for the women to finish their argument so we could resume our tour of the estate. Discussing later with Lawi and Danis, we learned that there is a fierce property dispute developing among the women in the estate. It generally has to do with boundaries between properties, and who has the right to fruit that was planted in one woman’s yard, but has grown across the property lines between neighbors. When this happens, both households stake a claim on the fruit, and though there is usually more fruit growing on each tree than could ever be eaten by a single household, each woman bitterly defends her “right” to the fruit. The strangest thing about it is that once the fruit is picked, as is the E. African way, it will be freely shared among the community anyway…
Lawi asked me if I had any ideas for ways to resolve the conflict, and my first reaction was to say (only half-seriously), “Sure. Let them move back to Bison, the slum they came from, for a week or two so they can come back with renewed appreciation for the things they have clearly begun to take for granted.” Both Lawi and Danis laughed and agreed with the statement. Danis added that when the group existed in the slum, they rarely had disputes and worked very well together, and that the members of Ngiyo Ber, had been one of the most unified, closely knit groups he had ever seen. But since moving into the estate and each woman has come to own a house and property, discord within the group is becoming more and more prevalent. It is so interesting how ownership and/or good fortune can so quickly divide even the most harmonious, cooperative, unified groups of people. Eventually we discussed a more realistic solution to the conflict in the form a “common areas” so that no woman’s property is directly adjacent to her neighbor, but buffered by a strip of land that belongs to the community, and cannot be claimed by any single individual. Hopefully they will be able to implement such a solution…
We continued to tour the many Uganda Projects, usually meeting one group per day. At night, we’d return to the house where Lawi, Rachel, and I would together figure out a way to cook dinner with only a charcoal stove and a paraffin burner. As we cooked, or any time there was food around of any kind for that matter, we’d invariably receive a visit from “Pet” (short for Petronella), the 1 ½ year old scavenging neighbor girl. She wandered in and out of the house when she pleased, and after getting over her fear of our white skin, came to know us as “Uncle Wayway” and “Auntie Toto”. It would be impossible to describe the infinite cuteness of “our little Pet” who was perpetually happy, ever curious and playful, and insatiably hungry. If we left the room for even a minute, we’d usually return to find Pet stealing bread from the counter or eating sugar directly from the jar. Other times, when she was particularly quick, what may have been a plate of chapati moments before might be reduced to nothing but a pile of mangled, shredded, flakes of crumbs. We left Tororo on Sunday, and I can easily say the person/thing we miss most is our little Pet.
We are now in Nairobi where we’ve been meeting with an accountant and the chairman of the African board for GUW. Before we left Tororo though, a woman we’d met there showed us how to make traditional African beads out of paper. So when we’re not in meetings or writing reports, we can usually be found making "traditional" African jewelry…
Tonight we will head to Ngong, in Maasai-land, which is about an hour from Nairobi , and is the site of a handful of new projects being supported by Give Us Wings. We don’t know much of what to expect, but we’ve been told to prepare to stay on dirt floors without running water or electricity, but that we would absolutely love the projects happening there… Needless to say, it will be an experience, and we are very much looking forward to it.
Otherwise, all is well! I hope this email finds the same with you! Please continue to write to say hello, give us news from the states, or just generally encourage us… Receiving word from you all is one of the things that keeps us going! So, until next time,
Peace,
Will
The group meets under this giant tree for their daily lessons. They have been working on vowel sounds and have also learned to write their name.
A woman showing off her produce kiosk. Many women chose to expand their selection of produce with the microloans; others added another venture like charcoal-making to their business.
Will's other nemesis: the "guppies"
Christopher, the chairperson of the group.
A young group member with his mother.
