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.

an uplifting conversation

Boda-boda drivers outside the "hotel" (which, confusingly, actually means restaurant) and butchery just down the road from my house. This is the primary form of in-town transportation - 10 shillings (12 cents) anywhere in town. I'm totally mastering the side-saddle ride in skirt - although I got a round of laughter yesterday when I sat facing the wrong direction. Woops.

Today, while in line at the post office to collect a package (THANK YOU JOHN AND NANCY!) the girl behind me got my attention and asked where I was from. This is a pretty common question, but the ensuing conversation was not.

She told me that she now lives in Britain, and is back in Bungoma for a couple weeks visiting her mother and younger brother. She went to university in Nairobi and has been working with developmentally disabled children in London for eight years. Her plan is to stay a few more years until she has sufficient management training and finances to open a similar organization in western Kenya. There is a definite lack of resources for children with disabilities here, she explained, and that was something worth changing.

I was immediately impressed by her big achievements and goals, but equally appreciative of her discussion of Kenya in general. Kenyans so often seem confused by why I would leave the US to come here, without realizing that Kenya is giving so much more to me than I will ever be able to give back. (Which sounds ridiculously corny, I realize, but it's true. I'm giving 5-6 short months of small contributions in exchange for a perspective that will shape the rest of my life.) This girl didn't ask what I was doing or why I had come; instead, she made a comment about how hard it would be to leave Kenya and return to the lifestyle and winter weather of Minnesota.

She's right - I miss my family, sometimes our water/electricity/internet don't quite work, and I can't get good gum or beer - but Bungoma has beautiful hills, a relaxed pace of life, ultra-friendly people, and of course great weather. In the end it's not a sacrifice; it's a trade-off. Which is something I never thought about in those terms until my post office conversation - a realization instigated by a Londoner who can't wait to get back here.

life before & after Kenya

Looking backward

I just heard from Carolyn, my co-teacher from last fall: massive changes have entirely shifted the role of foreign teachers at TESS. Six of the long-term expat teaching staff were relocated from our apartment complex into the dormitories. The two teachers from the Philippines, who were generally agreed to be the two best teachers, will not be asked to return next year. The two Canadians who led the public school English department and International Student Section (both of whom have been in China for several years and have Chinese wives) are both leaving in June. My co-teacher John, at the International School, has already packed up and moved back to NYC.

My insight into the situation is limited, as I know only the facts and nothing of the background forces that have prompted an overhaul in the entire school dynamic. I had really considered staying for an additional semester - to the point of recurrent fleeting regret that I did not - and I was shocked and disappointed by the news. I do feel lucky that I was able to be there when I was, but regret that (1) my friends who are still there will be leaving with a dark shadow cast across their teaching experiences, and (2) a little window seems to be closing on future opportunities for others to experience what I did.

Looking forward

Now that my financial aid package and New Haven lease are making everything a bit more real, I am officially getting excited for law school in the fall. Especially the housing component: I will be in a 4-bedroom house with three other first-year law students, one of whom I became friends with during admit weekend. They graduated from Harvard together in 2008, so they are already well-acquainted, and I am definitely looking forward to imposing my Bucky-loving self on them in the fall.

It's going to be hard for any group of girls to live up to my Madison roommates, but so far it's looking hopeful. We are currently scattered across the world, enjoying a collective year of a deferrral: Japan (or somewhere in Southeast Asia, by now), the US, Australia, and of course Kenya. August 15 will bring us to a little yellow house in New Haven for a new adventure. Life is looking pretty good.