Field Trip

Field Trip Day
First, a disclaimer. This post will be very long. Maybe unnecessarily long. Also, I describe things that caused me to react emotionally. I’ll do my best to leave that out, and focus on the events of the day.
This week on Tuesday our Development professor, Dr. Jama, took us on a field trip around various key areas of Nairobi to help illustrate the focus of his lectures. Since Monday was a holiday, a lot of people decided to travel and were just getting back into town on Tuesday morning. We got on the bus and set off for our first destination, a public overlook area where we could see several key government an private structures such as the Ministry of Health, the Parliament building, and the headquarters of a few multinational corporations. Also from the overlook we watched armed and uniformed military policemen marching around in formation. Jama explained they were practicing for when Kibaki (the president of Kenya) makes a speech. We were situated a good distance from them, but they were still pretty intimidation. Jama also told us all about how the green (it’s actually brown right now because of the drought) below us used to be so expansive, it stretched to the city limits. It’s now much smaller, just a few acres. It has been whittled away piece by piece for private buildings, 4 star hotels, and offices. This is important because the green is a key recreational zone for the poor of Nairobi, who obviously can’t afford admittance to the national parks and animal orphanages. These free public spaces are especially busy on days like last Monday, which was a public holiday. In fact, a U.S. corporation wanted to buy a section of this particular land with the goal of constructing the tallest building in Africa. The project was shot down after a number of protests by locals who wanted to preserve the space for the public. Jama also pointed out a corner of the park area that is a site famous for the demonstrations and rallies that take place there occasionally, often controlled by police officers like the ones we saw marching nearby.
Back aboard the bus, next stop: industrial zone. The bus parked along the street near the GM and Firesone plants. This stop was mainly so Jama could illustrate the presence of large multinational corporations that capitalize on the Export Processing Zone here. EPZ’s are free trade zones/ specialized manufacturing export estates with minimum customs controls, and are usually exempt from labor regulations and domestic taxes. Here, we weren’t able to get out or take pictures of the factories due to security concerns. Jama mentioned that one year, a student tried to take a picture of the GM plant and the entire group was detained for upwards of three hours. The plants here are mostly for assembly, not manufacturing. For example, the GM plant assembles Isuzu automobiles, giving new meaning to the “global car” concept. The workers in these plants are generally pretty well educated, but there aren’t enough jobs to go around. We saw quite a few men waiting around outside, hoping to find work, but they are almost all turned away. Where can such men go to find work?
That would be our next stop, the informal sector. This was by far the most eye- opening part of the trip. My goal here is not necessarily to make some sort of appeal for sympathy or sensationalize the populations or activities I saw, so I’ll stick to straight descriptions and try to keep any personal feelings or judgments to a minimum. As we approached this area, one of the first things we noticed was the issue of solid waste management, or lack thereof. Garbage was heaped everywhere, piling up in fields and overflowing the ditches. In some places the grass wasn’t even visible. The stench was overpowering, like weeks of old trash and burning rubber. Shanty houses made of scraps of corrugated tin roofs and thick wooden poles were everywhere. Some were completely open to the outside, some were shielded by old plastic bags or scraps of cloth. The poverty is unthinkable and indescribable. Here, we were able to get out and walk around. Within moments of disembarking, it becomes obvious that Jama is something of a celebrity here. Men come up and hug him, point around, and speak in rapid Kiswahili. Then Jama leads us through a vast maze of wooden stands similar to the houses we passed on our way in. At the outer edge of the maze, men sit in the stands and sell finished goods, all made of recycled materials. Old tin is hammered into new bowls and cooking utensils. Metal frameworks from fencing and sidewalks become barbeque grills. Basically, any material that can be pounded, bent, flattened, or twisted into something new is collected and put to good use. As we work our way into the middle of the maze, the stands change from vendors to producers. This is quite a sight to behold. Shirtless, sweaty men perch on stools every two feet or two, some with hammers pounding sheet metal into massive bowls, some welding pieces together, some sawing or drilling. The noise is incredible. I can’t hear the person standing right in front of me. It’s extremely hot. It’s also extremely obvious that Kenya has no equivalent to OSHA to oversee workplace conditions. Surprisingly enough, the workers all seem content. Happy, even. They greet Jama like an old friend and even invite a few students to sit and try pounding on the bowls they’re working on. We walk around more and get an idea of the scope of the products made here: dozens of cooking tools in varying sizes, durable metal suitcases, dressers and desks, things I couldn’t even begin to identify. Jama explained that this area is actually relatively safe for a pack of wazungu like us, despite the obvious poverty all around us. Areas like this are ruled by mob law, so basically, if a person were to steal from a potential customer, other craftsmen would see it as bad for business. A thief would literally be beaten to death. “He stands no chance of walking out of here alive if he steals” Jama explained. These products, aside from being sold to casual shoppers, are also picked up in large trucks every few weeks and distributed throughout the country. The men that work in the informal sector have ownership in their business, since each enterprise is co- owned by two or at most three men. They divide any profits equally, so the men here actually earn relatively high salaries. Unfortunately, all the activity we saw here is considered null and void by the current system of evaluating development. Just like a subsistence farmer who produces just enough to feed his family, products from this sort of industry don’t “count” toward GNP. It seems almost dehumanizing, seeing all the labor and resources turning out useful products, but the workers are considered unemployed and their output not factored into the national economy.
Next, we move quickly through Majengo, another extremely poor slum area of Nairobi. This area has gained fame for the commercial sex work that is virtually the only form of employment here. It’s also an area of extensive scientific investigation because, for some reason yet unknown, a number of the women are resistant to HIV infection, despite obvious occupational hazards. Needless to say, we didn’t get out of the bus here, just passed by.
Our next stop showed us an alternate and preferable career path for women. We entered a jungle of wooden huts, basically the female version of the informal sector we had just visited. Here instead of metal work, the women bead, sew, and weave crafts for sale. Their crafts were similar to those at the Maasai market I described earlier, but it was interesting to see the labor input and product output all concentrated in one place. Again, like the men working not too far away, these women are technically unemployed, though they earn good wages to help support their families.
The last leg of our field trip was meant to be juxtaposed against the economic and resource poverty we had been exposed to all morning. We passed through the neighborhoods inhabited by government officials and foreign diplomats. Here, lush green lawns flourish under the careful watch of an army of yard boys that water the grass in the scorching heat of midday. There are manicured golf courses, pools and water slides, and massive shopping malls. We passed the US Embassy, which happens to be the largest in Africa and one of the biggest in the world, according to Jama. It serves as a watch point for both East and Central Africa, as well as parts of the Middle East. Here, once again, no photos unless you wish to be detained.
So, over the course of the morning Jama accomplished two major objectives: juxtaposition and argumentation. He compared the lives of the rich and poor, the jobs of those that work in industry for multinationals and those that work industriously for themselves, the jobs men hold and the contributions women make. He also argued that “structures don’t mean development”. We saw plenty of examples of large buildings, like those from the scenic outlook in Nairobi, where constructing modern towers stole away public land from the masses to benefit few. We saw the Canadian Embassy, which cut down many acres of precious forest to add a swimming pool to their complex.
The field trip was informational, and Jama presented everything as factually as possible, without introducing his own biases as a Kenyan. It’s given me a lot to think about, and I’m not really sure I’m done processing it all yet, so that’s really all I have on the field trip for now.
So THEN, after all that was over, Jane, one of my advisors, wanted me to go into the city center with her to meet the director of the foundation I’ll be volunteering with for my internship. I’ll be working with the Matibabu Foundation, which provides health and educational outreach services to the poor region of Ugenya in western Kenya. I met with Dan, the country director of the foundation (they also have a sister branch in California). He described the various projects going on right now and the options I have. Essentially, I can do whatever I want. They have projects dealing with HIV/ AIDS outreach as well as treatment, nutrition campaigns to delay the start of ARV therapy for HIV patients, malaria research and treatment, maternal- child health programs, pediatric deforming initiatives, and a lot more. I was told that based on the background information I submitted, the director of the malaria research is lobbying pretty heavily to get me involved there, but I think for this I’d prefer something with more patient contact.
That all went fine. Then Jane, Sam (another student) and I had to go to a bank because Sam’s ATM card had been “captured” by an ATM at an animal orphanage. The card went in and never came back out. Apparently that happens a lot here, because they have an entire teller window at the bank dedicated to “captured card complaints”. So we stood in line for 30 to 45 minutes. This country is not especially good at efficiency. We got to the teller, who browsed through a massive stack of captured cards, and informed us that Sam’s card was being held at another branch across town. So we went there. And waited in line some more. When we approached this teller, she got very shifty and refused to confirm whether the card was there or not. She referred us to Customer Service (ironically named), where we waited in line, for a change. We were then told that Sam would need his original passport to reclaim his card- he only had a notarized photocopy and his drivers license. This seemed suspicious, so Jane inquired further why the original passport was needed. The Customer Service representative responded that Sam had another 24 hours to officially reclaim his card or it would be destroyed. I think he went back the next day to try and get it back, I’m not sure. At this point in the day, Sam has very little cash and no ATM card. What he does have is a good deal of money in Traveler’s Checks. Unfortunately, no bank in Kenya will cash Traveler’s Checks. Well, there was one that would, but only after a one to two month waiting period. Lesson of the day: don’t bring Traveler’s Checks to Kenya.
Sam, Jane, and I laughed about the difficulties of the banking system as we walked to the bus station. I assured Sam we’d make sure he was fed until he managed to get his ATM card back, and we were overall pretty tired and ready to get home. Jane and Sam got on one bus, but I was going a different way so I got on a different one. I boarded my Citi Hoppa (read: city hopper. It’s a major Kenyan bus company, and it’s really hard not to laugh when talking about a Citi Hoppa. Similarly, there’s a popular television series called Inspekta Malawi that’s also fun to talk about) and started a slow ride home. It was rush hour in Nairobi, and my bus was packed. I was the only mzungu. At the stop before mine, the man behind me got up to leave, and as he did, he pulled out a scissors and snipped off a lock of my hair. Right from my head. And then he disembarked, scissors and hair in one hand, briefcase in the other. I am perplexed by this. I think maybe, somewhere, somebody is making an Emily Barker Voodoo doll.