Donor Visit to Nairobi - Day 2

Nairobi Day 2 wound up as another booming success, but again came with a host of frustrations. The frustrations stem primarily from the clash between my notion of punctuality and the Kenyan belief that “haraka haraka hayena baraka” (hurry hurry has no blessing). The morning we ran late again, and with my nagging finally got out on time. Zuhura was incredible on time today when we got her, and we made it to our destination right as the time the meeting was supposed to start. It ended up starting a little late, but we had no issues and no embarrassment.

We only had one meeting that day, which was with the Ford Foundation. Our relationship with them has been long and has always been good, so it was considered the least variable visit. They were right. We talked for a long time about projects, and finally, Monitoring, Evaluation, and Documentation. Zuhura was better prepared, the meeting was much smoother, and we got even more good news. Ford Foundation’s new president has a special interest in Monitoring, Evaluation, and Documentation. There is money available for that. The only hitch that might be difficult during the next round of funding is that of the American financial crisis which is pushing donors to the limits. Otherwise, Ford essentially wants to work with Ujamaa on how to improve the capacity of our staff and field workers in gathering information on their work and other activities related to M, E, & D. Next project cycle, the cash should flow as long as Ujamaa further conceptualizes the ideas of M, E, & D and is creative about where they want money and how they’ll use it. Wooooo!!!

The meeting was great but too long. We got out of the meeting at around 11:45, and the taxi to take me to my 12:30 bus was not around. It arrived late, got stuck in a jam, and had me stressing that I would have to hang around Nairobi another 10 hours waiting for the night buses. I wasn’t happy. I got to the bus depot on time, but then my colleague Phyllis, who had left the previous meeting to go to another, was late. I had her suitcase. I checked onto the bus. From there I went to great lengths to arrange a way she could meet with us. When we got to the other depot the bus stops at as it leaves Nairobi – there she was, happy and full of lunch. There I was stressed out about her missing the bus and hungry. I wasn’t happy. But, the ride home went well, and Phyllis I chatted a bunch. She said some nice things and gave me some really valuable advice on what I need to do before I leave to ensure the work I’ve done remains in place.

The trip to Nairobi was challenging to arrange, challenging to execute, but was worth every minute of frustration. Back at Ujamaa I can already feel the mood towards my project changing. I don’t have to work as hard to get things done and initiative is being taken by others, not only me. The trip that I wanted to use to get the donors on board actually brought the rest of the team on board.

Donor Visit to Nairobi - Day 1

This is a long post, but it’s broken into sections for your reading pleasure!

The Start

My oh my what a first day. Last night the three project managers at Ujamaa and myself left Mombasa at 10:30PM, arriving in Nairobi at 6AM for an unpredictable and eventful day. My colleagues and I began the day with a frustrating hotel search and I ended the day as a witness of mob justice. In between came an accident, breaking the rules of my grant, getting interrogated by a guard, and two very important and successful talks with donors.

Our day began hectic. We got off the bus at around 6 AM and didn’t get settled into our rooms until close to 8. For some odd reason, every hotel in the area was fully booked. A Monday night…Phyllis, one of the managers, said she had never had to go further than the second hotel before she got a room. We walked a good distance and tried at least 6 hotels. Finally we got a room, shower, and quick (but tasty) breakfast, but had no time to take a power nap.

The Reason

The conceptualization of the visit came when I began trying to solidify the sustainability of my project. I needed an undercutting tactic, something that would make Ujamaa continue to follow through on the project’s components even after I left. Each manager has a project they manage and each project receives funding from a separate donor. I decided I should share my work with the donors Ujamaa receives funding from to get them involved in the monitoring of my project. The director was all for it, and said the managers should visit their donors anyways. The trip was restructured during a chat with the managers to be first to talk about the respective project and then to get to monitoring, evaluation, and documentation. It was feared that if we came with the agenda of just monitoring, evaluation, and documentation, it would make it seem as if we were not doing of that before, when really we are just trying to improve those aspects of Ujamaa’s infrastructure. The trip would be headed by the managers and my project would get time at the end. We planned to ask for future funding to be directed specifically on monitoring, evaluation, and documentation as an autonomous focus within Ujamaa.

The grant for my project as a whole was fully funded (for around $631) but was based on one condition: the fare for me to go to Nairobi (which the grant covered) would have to go to someone else. The FSD Grant Committee decided that for the sake of sustainability I should not be the one taking the lead in the visits. They were right to some degree. But, since the focus of the visit had changed to the project managers taking the lead role, that wasn’t such an issue. I ended up going on Ujamaa’s bill, but Zuhura, the Ujamaa staff who will be taking control of my project when I leave, also came.

The Visits

My frustrations and insecurities about the day began at breakfast, when I realized that Zuhura might not be with us in the morning session. She had travelled separately and we were having serious coordination issues. I wasn’t sure how FSD would react to knowing that I presented my project instead of Zuhura, but there was little I could do. The managers were not sharing info and I was not happy. That conundrum was forgotten as the taxi we were in on the way to the first donor, the Royal Danish Embassy, got into an accident. A matatu got to close, the taxi wasn’t giving in, and the taxi’s side panel got pretty scratched up. Nothing dangerous, just really dumb. We left in another taxi - the matatu driver was being an ass and the angry and frustrated taxi driver came ever closer to fighting the matatu driver. Luckily the police were around to diffuse, but I hear that the police own many of the matatus so don’t often give the drivers much of a punishment, if any.

We arrived late to the Danish Embassy (RDE) and were without Zuhura. On the way in the guard asked, “Which oppice are you going to?” So we said, “What is an oppice?” The situation escalated to where we though he wasn’t going to let us through until we realized what we were talking about and were able to understand each other. I thought for a second he was going to consider us a threat and call the police!

The meeting with RDE went really really well, though I was forced to present my project. After talking about the Peace, Security, and Development project RDE funds, we discussed my improvements to Ujamaa’s infratructure. They were received with a lot of warmth and encouragement. They held it in high esteem, but used the opportunity to attack a little. The donor program manager was not so nice, asking many hard questions about where the money they put towards project administration goes, but when some unclear points about my project were clarified, peace was made and a great final decision come to: RDE asked us to come back in 6 months, see how these internal improvements have come along, and then talk about maybe funding a Monitoring and Evaluation department at Ujamaa. Woooo!!!

Next, we waited for an hour for a taxi, rushed to retrieve Zuhura, (I lost my nerve when she took forever to come since we had spent all day trying to get her with us, even though she had already committed to accompanying us), and finally zipped off to OSIEA (Open Society International – East Africa) who fund our Public Accountability Project. These guys were NICE. We went through the same motions, but with Zuhura starting off the discussion on my project. Since she wasn’t very well prepared, I was forced to step in and present a little, but it went much smoother than the previous meeting. OSIEA also were impressed with our work as a whole and the relationship between us grew very tight as we shared how we might work together again in the future. Woooo!!!

We left OSIEA in great spirits. The day was amazingly successful. I think I was happier than anyone else, though. Something incredible had transformed – the mangers were finally taking ownership of my project. Having that was something I really wanted, but couldn’t seem to attain since the beginning of my project. As we discussed my project with the donors, the managers provided excellent support, supplementing the presentation wonderfully. They were able to effectively tie their projects to Ujaamaa’s need for a Monitoring and Evaluation department, and allow me to further discuss tha need. As we rode in the taxi, I realized that I had hit two birds with one stone. Not only had I been able to bring our donors on board, using their expectation to pressure our compliance with the project’s goals, but I also got my most essential partners on board – the managers. They had become excited about it and talked as if it were something they were singlehandedly guaranteeing. Two huge doses of sustainability!! I was ecstatic. Let us hope that fire continues to burn even after we leave Nairobi tomorrow.

The Mob Justice

And, to wind up my night, for the first time I witnessed mob-justice firsthand. The restaurant I was in got excited. A man was dodging his way through a crowd, and finally began to be chased. A man in front of him turned and kicked him in the chest, dropping him to the floor. That was it for the man. A mob of men surrounded him and began to kick and punch. That man was a Mwizi, which is Swahili for “thief”. In Kenya, if someone grabs your bag, and you yell “mwizi!”, the crowd reacts violently. At the coast, 10 gangsters were hung by a local mob. Those gangsters were known for robberies and violence around the area Kira lives in. The ineffectiveness of the police combined with the communalism of African society empowers people to take justice into their own hands. The thief today was beaten bad. He once was able to stand up, and as he tried to walk away was pushed and kicked by more men. Every time he would limply fall to the ground. He was messed up, drained of energy. They wouldn’t let him go, and the mob just stood around him. I asked a waiter if they’d let him free. He said that they wouldn’t. The crowd wanted him to die. I asked if the police could come. He said they couldn’t, the police were busy elsewhere. To the waiter, everyone else at the restaurant, and the mob, he was a thief and deserved what he was getting. No remorse, no respect for due process of the law. I was disgusted and conflicted.

Conclusion

The day was crazy, it was long, it was exhausting, but I’ve learned so much and achieved so much. I can’t wait to make our last donor visit tomorrow, and to ultimately see how this event will effect my project’s overall success.

What I've learned

Here are a few things I’ve come to learn and realize in the last week:

1. Ujamaa is like a boat which my project is trying to board. Every now and then a bit more of my project latches onto the side, clinging for dear life as the Ujamaa boat slowly putters along. Often these pieces are forgotten and slowly fall off. Maybe the sides of the vessel have been polished too well, but I think its because the crew doesn't care to exert the effort to pull them fully on board.

2. I’ve found that in life, around other people, you spend most of your time butting heads, doubting them, assuming things, questioning others, and eventually allowing them some of your trust. The trust is often misplaced, which makes you continue all the previously mentioned activities. Doing work in management in a foreign culture has really exposed me to those feelings, as they have been constantly present.

3. The most stressful thing in life, which is something you can’t avoid, is making choices. Sometimes they’re made for you, but usually you have to pull together your brain, heart, and guessing facilities to make them – and you can never be sure if you were 100% right. In foreign environments choices become harder. You don’t know the lay of the land. You end up making choices instinctually – especially when trying to figure out prices.

4. Meetings where all issues are addressed and flushed out are invaluable. I few times it happens, filling you with a sense of accomplishment. Here, it rarely happens. The meeting style (which I will describe in detail in a later post) causes that failure.

5. In Kenya, grading is public and often negative. Reading out loud and passing out of grades and comments is common. The students are not that ashamed, but it can’t be good for motivating improvement. They defended themselves, opened discussions on their marks, are happy for each other. In the end, it has been accepted.

6. Energizers for a learning environment are amazing tools. At the learning program run last week an energizer ranged from short dance to team activity to just yelling “put your hands in the air” and “put your hands on the ground”. There were so many I can’t even remember them all. The group always responded, and was more attentive for the next short while. It explains the incredible effectiveness of the “clap, clap, clap clap clap…clap clap” that my dad’s used in 4th grade, which remains drilled into my head.

There is lots more that I learn and realize, so there will be more to come! That’s all I can think of for now. Just some food for though…

Tuesday was Documentation Day...

Tuesday was Documentation Day. The main component that drives my project is documentation. All the Community Mobilizers (CMs) were there (the ones who could make it) to dive into improving the way they document their work. Throughout planning, implementing, and observing the workshop, I learned more than I could have imagined.

I spent some time structuring the workshop with the trainer that we contracted for the workshop. We brainstormed, we came up with activity ideas, and we made room for all priorities to be met. Doing that planning was seriously inspirational. Thorough exhausting of ideas excites me, it motivates me to work hard on expanding those ideas and getting others on board. Others I know can agree that working with others in a constructive manner is uplifting. It also gave me my first experience as a teacher making lesson plans. I never doubted you Mom and Dad, but this furthered my respect for how much work planning and preparing for education is! In the next couple weeks I compiled numerous documents and went through many hurdles to get them perfected and produced. In the end, the day came around and I was still essentially blind to what I would be doing.

The day’s morning session was not run by me. The consultant trainer, Eunice, works heavily with guilt and negativity. She told everybody that they didn’t know stuff, that they were doing things wrong, etc, etc. It was hard for me to listen to and accept. She did not work constructively. The psychology of adult education is unique and teaching adults requires a much different approach. Adults are more aware and are less susceptible to chastising. I frequently wanted to intervene, get her more on track, and stop her from ruining the afternoon session.

The afternoon session, run by me, started again with Eunice telling everyone they were wrong wrong wrong! I intervened and asked if we could use the current activity to segway into my session. A good decision, but a rough start. The afternoon session follows lunch. I had to start by handing out papers and explaining them. Together, food and lecture very effectively put everyone to sleep. A shout for an energizer (I’ll explain the use of energizers in my next post) led to a fantastic activity with some singing and dancing that woke up everybody. That also gave me time to reflect, to understand the work ahead of me, to prioritize, and to direct myself.

My session was on the format of reporting the CMs produce and the system of documentation Ujamaa will be following. The fieldwork done is Ujamaa’s foundation – conveying it effectively is central to everything related to Monitoring, Evaluation, and Accountability.

Coming out of the energizer, I quickly brushed over the documents again, going through set formats of reports that we conceptualized. I led that into a discussion. I tried to bring out the ineffectiveness of broad language. They are all culprits of reporting with broad language, with terms such as “capacity building” and “village meeting” dominating reports. Can people get any real information from those terms? No! We discussed the importance of going a few levels deeper – what did you build capacity in, what did you hold a meeting on, who was the meeting/training aimed at? It was quite a wall to break down. There is a long way to go to really expand that language. Working in development causes you to rethink many assumptions. These people I work with are intelligent and aware, but there are some basic skills they lack. Bringing those out and fighting with ingrained practices was quite a learning process.

Earlier they had written a report in a group. I had them reform the groups and try to use our discussion and the formats I had given them to rewrite the report. That activity legitimated my entire project. They asked a million questions about: what do you mean by expectations, what sort of agenda was there, is this title effective, what were my challenges? Flushing out the requirements for each section of the report format seemed to incur a step towards reporting enlightenment. The morning talked about data collection and analysis. Discussing the new report each group had furthered the realizations and understanding of what each section contained, where to put thoughts, what thoughts to include. It tied together all we had talked about for the whole day.

There process was not easy to get through and I doubted myself from the start. My workshop session was my first teaching experience where the material I presented was new and my own. It was liberating, but brought on huge insecurities. I loved it.

The Value of a Life

Sitting atop the food chain as humans, we don't see lives as things that begin and end. They have to high a price to be so simple. For myself and my compatriots as members of the Western World, that feeling is even more pronounced.

The other day I was at a meeting in a village way out in the middle of a forest here on the coast of Kenya. I sat in a plastic chair on a dirt patch and listened discuss forming a bee keeper's cooperative. The meeting, being all in Swahili, was a little hard for me to follow, so my gaze wandered to a millipede crawling around on the ground. Millipedes have incredible foot motion, where bunches of their legs move together in a way that creates a wave-like motion. Millions of years of evolution and natural selection made that possible. As the fascinating creature made its way towards the edge of the circle of chairs the meeting had formed, its life, probably incredibly important to itself, became inconsequential.

The man speaking shifted the position of his foot about two inches and when he lifted his foot again, there was the millipede, smashed into the red African dirt. Why was the millipede there? Who decided that it was his time to go? Was that the way it was supposed to happen? Those questions are answered in a million and one ways today as our beliefs evolve, but no matter your belief, the millipede was unlucky. Be it pure coincidence or bad karma, he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. In a moment, his all important existence (with perspective) was ended.

Consciousness is a blessing and even more so a burden. As humans we can understand and value our lives beyond pure survival instinct. Each society and each human values life differently, death is death, but sometimes its DEATH. Needless to say, we aren't ants who blindly sacrifice ourselves for the sake of the colony, and we step on ants without considering how they might feel about the usefulness of their existence, but we seldom consider how privileged we are to be alive.

Traffic Laws and Corruption

By driving around the streets of Mombasa with various people, it’s clear to see that nobody likes the way people generally drive. The aggressive and dangerous driving methods in Kenya are rooted in the habits of matatus. To drive in Kenya you need to know how to courageously cut off matatus and force your way into unyielding traffic.

Infrastructurally, the road system is pretty bad (no where near as bad as many countries in the developing world, but still not good). The roads are narrow and full of potholes which destroy a car’s suspension and undercarriage. There are a few traffic lights around the country, but rarely are they respected. Essentially traffic police do not exist. The police that stand roadside watch cars to ensure they have the right registration and OCCASIONALLY direct traffic, god forbid they have a vehicle by which to chase down traffic violators. Any police car you see is crammed full of policemen and is only transporting those men, not looking for law breakers.

It came to me pretty quickly – what would happen if traffic laws were enforced?

1. A huge amount of money would be collected from the magnitude of tickets that would be issued.
2. Money made from traffic infractions could be used to widen roads, put up traffic lights and traffic control signs, employ more police officers, and even provide the police with vehicles and equipment.
3. Traffic would decrease as congestion was controlled and channeled properly.
4. People would die less often from out of control matatus careening off the road or into other vehicles.

But with those ideas came a huge hurdle: corruption. How will those fines make it to the government? You'd have to crack down on corruption. So how do you fight corruption?

If there is one thing that has held Kenya back from becoming a booming success, it is be corruption. Until recently, issues such as political oppression and tribal clashes were virtually unheard of in Kenya. Now, Kenya remains far from perfect, but its glaring weakness is good governance. They are currently on their third president in 45 years. The first president, Jomo Kenyatta spent 15 years as president, succeeded my Daniel Arap Moi, a man who stayed in power for 25 years, during which he worked his way onto the list of the top 10 or 20 richest people in the world. Let me tell you, he wasn’t making hat money through his recently torched wheat plantation. The current president has been in power for just about 6 years but is suspected to be handling money no better. That corruption percolated down through every organ of the government and is particularly apparent in the police force.

So I thought, where do you start? Let’s think about just the police. Maybe you can give the police higher salaries? Not an easy thing to do and not guaranteed to stop corruption. Anti-corruption teams don’t seem to do it either.

I realize now that it fighting corruption depends on those not involved in government, everyday people.

Talking to a guy I know through a local community organization in Mtopanga, the topic of fighting corruption came up. He was very pessimistic, believing that there is no way around corruption. It’s a system that is here to stay and that we might as well partake in it. He holds no hope for the system changing. This comes in part by the horrible example set by the national government. They steal and make deals under the table constantly (such as a recently planned arms sale to South Sudan that they fervently denied). It dawned on me that the people don’t believe that corruption can be fought; they have objectified and internalized its existence. After internalizing it, they externalization corruption as they participate in it. This process creates an ever-growing negative feedback loop.

Taking a true stand against corruption lies in giving the public hope that if they try to fight it they can win. One of the ideas in America that has been sewed into our moral fiber, alongside our protestant work ethic, is a strong distaste for being cheated or similarly for corruption. I truly believe that if a cop was going to give us a speeding ticket for $100, and offered to give us a warning in exchange for $50, we would go straight to the police station, pay our ticket, and turn in the officer. Perhaps we have a good system of checks and balances? Even so, when it comes down to it, corruption is held in such a bad light that people will fight it wholeheartedly. But, we Americans usually have the ability to pay the ticket. The difference of $50 is painful for any regular wage earner in America, but to a Kenyan that $50 is a month’s salary (if they’re lucky enough to have a job). They rarely have savings and would have to submit to corruption.

At the end of the day we BELIEVE corruption can be brought to justice. Kenya needs both to be given hope, and for their development process to continue so their GDP can rise and their country can prosper. Unfortunately, there is a tremendous Catch-22. They need their economy to improve to allow them to fight corruption, but corruption cripples their efforts to improve the economy.

Matatus

Matatus are Kenya’s main system of public transport – they are vans privately owned that pick people up anywhere on their route and drop them anywhere along the route. The drivers fight to get up and down the road as fast as possible so they can shuttle more passengers and collect more fares. They use sidewalks as part of the road, make a two-lane road a four-lane road, and frequently get in the opposite lane and play chicken with the car coming towards them. They are also sometimes called "ma3s" because "tatu" in Swahili means 3.

The matatu system is reminiscent of a gang hierarchy. There are bosses that control routes. Drivers and conductors (the men that collect the money on each matatu) must pay these men so as to operate on those routes. You could consider it a union, or a cooperative, but the matatu network operates independent of any formal authority. If you don’t belong to the “gang” your matatu will get cut off incessantly, people won't yield for you in traffic, you'll be on your own. To survive in the matatu world, you need to “belong”.

I constantly feel like I’m going to die riding around in a matatu, and I have to take 2 for about 15 minutes each just to get to work. They’re very convenient, but I’d rather walk 10 minutes to a bus stop and lower my chances of dying considerably.

Recently, a law was passed that matatus could not have more people in their vehicle than there are seats and that each passenger needs a seatbelt. That law was enforced for maybe 10 minutes. Seatbelts, nonexistent. The max number of people allowed in a matatu is usually followed, but frequently (during busy hours) as many people as can fit are jammed in the van. Heavy loads don’t make a matatu any nimbler, and every time I hear of a matatu that has flipped while making a sharp turn, I consider becoming religious.

The only other rules matatus have are that they must have their route painted on their vehicles (though you can't trust that the painted route is the one which will be taken that day) and the conductors must wear a maroon uniform (only 3/4 of the conductors wear them, but some do get arrested for not wearing their uniforms).

The seats are close together, uncomfortable, and getting out of a full matatu is tricky maneuver. I can’t imagine how an obese person would do it. Some matatus make trips as long as going from Mombasa to Nairobi (a 6 hour trip) and sometimes go further. I’ve been on a matatu for as long as an hour. That was bad enough. One of the interns, Ben, is 6’5. When I complain about being cramped, I think of him and stop complaining.

They play lots of loud reggae and Swahili music. It’s a pretty rocking ride, though the songs have quickly become repetitive. There is not much song turnover around here.

The driver and conductor of the matatus make their own rules. With a full load of passengers they’ll stop to top up on gas, grab some food for the road, etc. Sometimes they’ll take alternate routes and drive in circles for a little while until they have enough passengers in the matatu to continue onto the original destination. Professionalism is completely absent. People have to use them to travel and they exploit that fact.

The matatu network is the only way to really get around. I’ve got the system down, I’m a veteran. I still get stared at constantly since I’m the only white person on the thing. And, in the end, I really do enjoy riding in them! It’s fun and exhilarating, but frequently terrifying and frustrating.