weekend in Nairobi

First, last Thursday, lesson learned:

Never wait until the last day on your visa to renew it at a border crossing between two semi-corrupt countries. Or if you do, bring about twice what it should cost, and expect to pay "a little extra" to everyone you interact with.

Luckily I didn't (quite) find myself in this situation, since when I visited the Malaba border crossing I had one day left on my tourist visa. When the officials tried to charge me an exhorbitant amount to do something perfectly legal, I went back home and planned an early morning trip to the immigration office in Eldoret for a visa renewal.

From there the process went quite smoothly (smoothly = airport office, the only one listed on the website, was closed, so I called an official to meet me there; waited an hour; went with him to the in-town office, where I filled out a resident alien application, paid 2200 shillings, got fingerprinted, and waited another hour for passport photos; and finally I got my passport back as an official registered alien). Hooray!

From there I boarded a packed matatu (packed = I had someone else's suitcase jammed under my feet, and a chicken and young girl riding in my lap) for a 3 hour trip to Nakuru. The trip was extended a bit due to brief engine trouble, but I happily got to town around 3 pm in time to meet... Lullit.

Yes, Lullit, the frequent commentator on my blog, was in Kenya for a week, so we arranged to spend Friday night together in Nairobi. After she picked me up in a safari van in Nakuru, we drove to Naivasha to see the hippo-filled lake, and then continued to Nairobi. After a late dinner and plenty of catching up, we crashed in her hotel, where she woke me to say good-bye before flying to Kampala at 6 am on Saturday morning.

Saturday was ridiculous, and completely un-Bungoma-like. In a one sentence summary: Paul, Lukas, and I (later joined by Joana, the Red Cross employee stationed in Bungoma) drank beer at a cafe, went to a casino and came out a combined 2750 shillings ahead, had a nice dinner/drinks, and went to a nightclub which I only later learned catered to prostitutes.

Sunday meant nine hours in a matatu on the way back to Bungoma. This direction was far more comfortable; Paul & I bought out the back three seats so I upgraded by 1/2 seat from the way out to 1 1/2 seats on the way back.

Final update: My comment about the "big and stinky" pigs came at an opportune time. The group sent the pigs to the butcher on Thursday and had one for dinner on Friday night. I was actually pretty disappointed to miss out... But my sadness at missing the meal was more than canceled by my relief of no longer living downwind.

5 senses in Bungoma

See

Green, green, everywhere.
The Cereals Board, a barn-like structure and the tallest building in Bungoma. The fact that we live so near to it is a saving grace in navigating home from exploratory runs.
At night, darkness. My Kenyan cell phone conveniently comes with a flashlight ("torch") on the top. Who wanted the camera feature anyway?

At Webuye Falls, an hour from our compound. Mmmm, chocolate milk.

Smell

In our compound, the pigs are getting big and stinky
On a walk, the fresh smell of outdoors
On the roads, the acrid smell of fuel from inefficient vehicles

Touch

Handshakes. From the typical east African changing-grip handshake to endless little kids who come from everywhere ("I want to greet you!")
Food. Although we use silverware in the compound, at restaurants people often use their hands

Taste

Ugali: mashed up porridge-like maize
Nyama choma: roasted meat, served with a side of salt
Beans and chapati
Pili-pili: hot sauce, my personal favorite

Hear

"How-are-you-I'm-fine" (in the nasal Bukusa accent)
MZUNGU!
Laughter: Kenyans are generally pretty happy and relaxed.
Prayers.
And let's not forget about Kenyan club music...

field visit, floods, & chickens

Herding cattle on a path behind our compound.

One of our staff has a theory about the "phases of One Acre Fund": a one-month honeymooon period, a one-month this-really-sucks period, and then a more comfortable feeling of general competency/enjoyment that settles in after that. Based on my experiences so far, I'd say his observation is pretty accurate.

So now that I'm in the increased-competency stage...

I've more or less wrapped on my project on cost-cutting. For awhile I sort of struggled with this; already my time in Kenya felt way too short, and this was compounded by the sense that I had been brought in more or less to play the role of management consultant - to make a bunch of cuts and then get the hell out. And I suppose that hasn't really changed. I've initiated the dropping of over half of our (vastly unprofitable) passion fruit farmers, identified and eliminated fraud (a process that involved putting a staff member on probation - another undesirable task), cut half of our spending on chemicals, and eliminated/relocated half of our spray staff. The result: we'll definitely meet the budget target, and in the long run our farmers will be better off after switching to our maize program, but for now I am still feeling a bit guilty for my role in the inevitable pain of change.

I'm beginning a few new projects now, which I'm actually pretty excited about. One will involve hiring and training a full-time auditor to regularly look over expenses. I will also be rolling out a protocol for future pH testing to ensure that our fertilizer use is not dramatically changing the chemical composition of the soil. Last but not least I'm assisting in the launch of researching farm-based productive assets - mostly livestock.

On Friday, after four hours of monitoring the passion fruit harvests (and buying 3 kg of export-worthy fruit for $1.50), I met with Henry (photo lower left), a field officer who operates a site called Victorious. The site name is appropriate - the farmers are on average much wealthier and more educated than the average OAF farmer, which was part of the reason I selected this site for my initial asset-related conversations: Victorious farmers are more likely to own livestock and have other sources of income beyond subsistence farming. (Upper left: Passion fruit harvest - sorting and weighing fruits.)

I always enjoy conversations with farmers, which generally involve free soda, lots of smiles and handshakes, and plenty of "karibu" (welcome) and "asante" (thank you). This visit was especially interesting, as the farmers I interviewed all spoke English quite well so I needed very little translation. In four hours I interviewed only four farmers, but came to basically understand the risk and cost involved in raising different types of livestock. Given the death rate, cost of treatments (vitamins, spraying for ticks, vaccinations), cost of feed, life expectancy, original value, sales value, and value of any other outputs from the animal (milk from cows, eggs from chickens, manure from pigs) I am now able to estimate the present value of each farm animal. Cool?! I thought so.

There are always a few memorable moments from each field visit, and Friday was no exception. One highlight was at the end of my last interview, as I sat with Henry and eight of the farm residents, one of the women reached out boldly and touched my hair. She sort of gasped and then exclaimed, "It's real!" (Many of the women here wear wigs, which may have been part of the reason for her surprise.) I laughed and told her it was okay - she could touch it if she wanted. After permission was granted, the women formed a line and took turns stroking my hair. A little awkward, maybe, but if I had never seen mzungu hair I would probably do the same.

Another good field moment came from a conversation with one of our most productive farmers. He lived in Nairobi for 20 years before moving to Bungoma, and now in addition to his crops, he raises cattle that he sells to pay school fees for his children. While he stays at home tending to the crops, his wife works in the local post office. When I asked him which he preferred - life in Nairobi or in Bungoma - he just smiled and said, "Nairobi, Bungoma, it doesn't matter. The best place is home."

* * * * *

In one other exciting episode of life in Bungoma: Yesterday Jake and I went to pick up food for dinner at Khetia's, our local grocery store. The heavy rains started while we were shopping. We tried to venture outside, but the downpour became extra-torrential and the drops actually hurt as they pelted us. When we were finally able to leave, the streets looked more like rivers (see photo on left) and a lot of crops were looking scarily damaged. We worried a bit about what would happen to the maize harvest, and other more delicate fruits like passion. Fortunately we got a little comic relief: when we got back to Jake and Andrew's house, Jake discovered that two of our chickens had taken refuge from the rain in Andrew's bedroom. Not only were they huddled on his desk, but one of them had pooped on his computer. I personally found this absolutely hilarious. Jake cleaned up the mess and we ushered the chickens outside, and soon found that they had already re-entered the room. Why? Apparently they had laid eggs there as well. A day in the life.

Andrew's new roommates.