Thursday, December 27, 2012

Contemplations on Kenya


In this, my final post from Africa since I'm departing in a few days, I will leave you with some of my feeling on this place based on my experiences.  This place is alive—some of the best and some of the worst all so close to one another, living side by side: poverty, close-knit family structures, corruption, fresh foods, tribalism with both tradition and politics, pleasant weather, violence and greetings.

It’s true that the environment and climate in parts of Kenya are not conducive for living, but I’ve loved the weather in the places I have been—from Kisumu to Kericho to Kimori, Nakuru to Nairobi and Eldoret.  At times, I’ve missed the changing seasons of Nebraska which mark the passing of time, creating an urgency, changing the rhythm of life.  Yet it has been nice to have weather neither too hot nor too cold, to not have to secure clothes on the line with pegs to prevent them from blowing down, and to see green plants in all directions.  It was beautiful to watch anything that was planted grow without watering it or weeding.  In this region, there could be enough food to feed the large population if people would simply be industrious planting and harvesting.

Unfortunately, that isn’t always the case.  Here as in all parts of the world there are good people and bad, those who are honest and those who are deceitful, those who are hard-working and those who are lazy.  My host mother is just one of numerous individuals who is not formally employed , but uses her  time and energy planting crops so that the family does not have to purchase things like pumpkins, maize, potatoes, and vegetables to sustain themselves.  On the flipside, every day as I’ve walked down the road, I have encountered idlers and drunkards—both men and women, although there are more men behaving in this manner.  It is so sad to see children wearing rags, going hungry and walking barefoot through the mud, while a parent is seated idly or passed out along the side of the road.

Here in Bomet County, where 58% of the people are living on less than a dollar a day, poverty is a big problem.  Poverty; however, is a much more complex problem and cannot simply be blamed on laziness or irresponsibility.  Those are possible reasons for it, but there are many more.  Sometimes the death of a parent especially the father jeopardizes a family’s financial security.  A neighbour woman struggles selling general goods to support herself and her only son since her husband (a police officer) was killed in Kenya’s 2007 post-election violence.  One of my pupils longs to have sugar for his tea when he goes home on holiday, but the family’s budget is too tight.  All their savings was eaten up for medical treatment for his father who was ailing on HIV.  His passing last year left them with funeral debts and nothing more.  In this instance disease can lead to poverty, but in other cases, poverty leads to disease because the environment is one of poor sanitation and of poor nutrition.  Free primary education was just introduced in Kenya in 2001, making it possible for even the extreme poor to get to class 8.  Now, primary education is free, but secondary education is still difficult for many to afford.  Unless a parent pays for secondary school, a child will remain with only a primary school education.  Ignorance adds just one more factor to the complicated issue of poverty. 

In such a setting where resources are limited, people tend to have closely knit families with many members on whom they can rely.  In some ways life seems simpler, but it is important to understand that poverty is not to be idealized.  If it weren’t for so much corruption, there would be less poverty and in turn less violence. 

I’ve met people who are extremely honest, hard-working, and resilient.  Rachel, a class five school dropout cannot be seen without a smile on her face and a song on her lips, despite her exhausting days of manual labour.  Without support from her abusive and alcoholic husband, she has worked to feed herself and her six children as well as send them to as much school as she could afford.

In this country, only 48 years old, development is in constant motion, yet tribalism can get in the way.  Kenya has 42 tribes, each with its own language, values and traditions.  Some tribes have night-runners, others practice circumcision as a rite-of-passage, while still others are recognized by their colourful robes.  These cultural traits can be neat and interesting, but when used to create divisions and hatred towards others, they become ugly. 

Most of the time, Kenyans share a culture of welcoming.  In the region I’ve been living in, people are always stopping by homes, shops, or on the road to greet one another—tapping someone on their left shoulder twice with the right hand, then shanking hands and exchanging greetings like, “How are you?  How is the day?  How is now?  How is home?  How is here?  How are the children?”  It’s perfectly acceptable for greetings to take a few minutes.

I’ve had a great 7 months in Kenya while seeing and experiencing both some of the good and of the bad.  I’ve learned more than I’d thought I would, and my perspective has been altered.  Kenya is a country of struggles and corruption; a country of wild and raw beauty, and of a people of great heart.  

Life Lessons I've learned

Nebraska’s state motto The Good Life is a goal that I think all people would like to achieve.  No one wants to lead a life highlighted by struggles and failures.  Of course we will all have trials and make mistakes, but there are ways of improving our circumstances.  God gave us each a purpose and it isn’t to suffer, so we should use our hearts and our brains for our own benefit and for that of others.  I came to Kenya not with the goal of fixing, changing or saving this place.  It isn’t needed or wanted.  Any change must come from within.  I came to Kenya on a quest for understanding.  I came with little expectations to meet, discover and learn about new people, their culture and the factors that affect and influence their lives.  On this journey, I’ve learned far more than I could have imagined when I embarked.  I’ve learned simple things like how to cook ugali, how to mop the floor with a rag, how pineapples grow, how tea gets to our lips, the tools for basic conversations in two new languages, and how to take bucket baths.  Apart from these things, I’ve also been blessed to have learned profound lessons that I will carry with me as I continue to go through life as well as deepened my belief in other life lessons.  Some follow:

#1: On a rainy evening, while preparing supper over the fire, I was asked if I knew how to make a cake.  I explained that I did (as I made cake many times in Germany), but that I could not do it without an oven.  They inquired the process and which ingredients were needed, insisting that the lack of an oven would not be an issue.  They could use a jiko and put a lid topped with coals over the sufuria (pot) to act as an oven.  “Can you make a cake for us?” they inquired again.  “Yes,” I reaffirmed.  I was then brought the ingredients I’d named: sugar, eggs, flour, etc. and was told to prepare the batter.  As I began estimating the proper ratio of ingredients, the cup and spoon were taken from my hands and I was told, “That is not the way to make a cake.  You must remove a lot of sugar like this.”  I watched as three cups of sugar and two kilograms of flour were dumped into the sufuria before me.  I felt frustrated and upset wondering why I was asked for help, asked to do something and then told that I was wrong.  The process took a long time and eventually the cake was finished.  It turned out to be okay, unlike any cake I’ve ever tasted and denser than any I’ve ever eaten, nevertheless edible.  This and numerous other incidents taught me: People don’t always want your help/advice/input when they ask for it.  (They may have already closed their mind although they are unable to admit this even to themselves).  If they don’t accept it (and their request was merely words or habit), don’t take it personally or allow yourself to get frustrated, simply move on.

#2: Although I knew this before coming here, countless incidents have reminded me and strengthened my belief that if we are to move forward, we must learn to say, “I am responsible,” and take not try to push the blame on others.  At times when my pupils have many incorrect answers on their assignments, I ask myself, “What is wrong with my pupils?”  But, then I must remember, that perhaps I failed to give them enough examples or to find a route of explanation that made sense to them.  I tire of listening to people constantly accusing and blaming others when they can’t find something, when something is unclean or the outcome of a task/project does not meet their expectations.  Do not blame others without evidence.  Take responsibility.

#3: A class six boy, was always snickering in class and covering his mouth.  I was a bit irritating to me, as the teacher at the front of the room with that distraction.  Sometimes he wasn’t in class for a few days.  He rarely received high marks on his papers or exams.  It would be easy to assume that this boy was rude or lazy, or simply did not care to pay attention.  However; that would be oversimplifying the issue and not looking at the situation.  I was patient with the boy, although I heard comments about him from some of the other students and teachers.  It was only after a few months that he opened up to me and I discovered that he had lost both of his parents by the age of four, was living in a small mud hut, and would walk a long ways through the mud each morning to school after doing many chores in his limited time outside of school.  I  think his laughing was just a coping mechanism, for an extremely troubled young man, trying not to let anyone know the pain he sometimes feels.  Don’t assume you know anything about a person before you take the time to really get to know the person. 

#4: As I reflect on my life thus far, I realize that my life isn’t really my story.  It is the stories of others intersecting with my own; others making marks on my life.  The success of every person is the product of support from others.  I have many people to thank for my accomplishments.  I had a grandma who was a great listener.  I had an aunt who gave me a gift—a poem entitled “If it is to be, it is up to me”—a small gift but it meant a great deal to me as a junior high students and I still cherish that poem.  I have passed it on to others.  I had friends in college who demonstrated the importance of generosity and relationships with others.  Because of those people and many others, I was able to come to Kenya to listen to people when they needed someone to listen, to encourage people when they need it, to give to others without keeping track of the cost and expecting repayment, and to build relationships.  Many will never know of their impact on my, just as I know I have merely planted seeds here and will not have the opportunity to see them flourish.  A few pupils recently told me a few things that they learned from me—things that surprised me.  It hit me that these sixth graders valued some of the lessons I didn’t even know I was teaching them.  We never know the extent of the ripple-effect of the kindness shown to another person.

#5: It isn’t always easy to know someone’s true character, and since we are ever-evolving, we are always becoming ourselves.  These months in Kenya have been the best of my international travels.  Of course many factors played into this and there have been challenges, but I think a big factor is experience in interacting with diverse groups of people and in becoming me.  The first time I travelled internationally was to Slovakia as and English Teaching Assistant and to help launch an outreach program at an orphanage.  It was an overwhelming time of firsts:  It was my first time in an airplane—let alone in an airport, first time someplace where people spoke a language apart from English, and my first time to discover that different cultures have different values.  A year later, I went to Germany and having been fairly sheltered and not having had much confrontation with people whose values and lifestyles conflicted with my own, I was lost.  I did a lot of things that I would not do again, mostly because I didn’t know who I was.  I was searching for myself.  After Slovakia and Germany, I continued to travel.  Peru.  Germany.  South Korea.  Now Kenya.  In each of these places I’ve met and interacted with a number of people.  Some places are more comfortable for a person than others, but I think one of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned through living in various places is: Be yourself and spend time with people who let you do just that.  Life is much simpler that way.

#6: There have been so many moments, when I’ve felt overwhelmed and didn’t know how I would accomplish something.  Unlike the title of Chinua Achebe’s “Things fall apart,”  I’d have to say, Things always come together.  When a task seems overwhelming, pray about it.  Take it one step at a time.  One moment at a time.

#7: Being a people-pleaser, I used to be unable to tell someone “no” when they requested something of me.  At times when I wasn’t sure about responsibilities involved in a job I was asked to do, I didn’t ask and I certainly didn’t offer suggestions.  Here, in Kenya, I’ve had a lot of responsibility placed on me and I’m thankful that I express my honest feelings about various matters and requests.  Although I still at times don’t know whether communication problems are due to language barriers or cultural misinterpretations, (and there have been plenty such instances), I know I’ve been much happier and less stressed because I have learned to Say “no” when you don’t want (to do) something, offer suggestions, ask questions and make requests.  Self-expression is necessary for effective communication and happiness.  There are plenty of other people who can try their abilities or use their talents, when you feel like too much is being asked of you.  

#8: Dealing with others can be challenging, especially when you want to be of assistance, but do not necessarily know what would be the most help.  I’ve learned that People usually tell you the truth if you are patient and listen very carefully—not just with your ears, but with all of your senses.  (Look into their eyes and see their soul.)  If you don’t listen with all of your senses, you’ll hear what they think you want to hear.  Several teachers had talked about their desire for the pupils to have books and I agreed that it was good.  The kids love any books that they can get their hands on.  I did listen to them and never made suggestions.  I asked them what they thought would be of benefit to the school and waited nearly 3 months to get a response from them.  I approached the school director
asking him for his opinion on what the school could use and what he thought about books.  He said we should get books start a library.  Had I really listened, I would have known that the school director was more interested in other things than in seeing that the children had a functioning organized little library and could use the books.  He has delayed on purchasing a lock for the cupboard and does not seem to care about how well they are taken care of.  Fortunately other teachers do care.  I’m still learning to listen, but it is helping me to become a better judge of people and of situations. 

#9: As I go to board a matatu, I hear people speaking about me in Kiswahili and Kalenjin, saying I only speak English and that I won’t be able to sit in some uncomfortable position…this all because I am of European descent, so am obviously a visitor.  Neighbours seem surprised when they see me sweeping, washing dishes or clothes or cooking.  “She can do work?!” I hear them ask.  Sometimes people make judgments about you based on your appearance without taking the time to get to know you.  Don’t let that discourage you or make you bitter and cynical. It can be frustrating, but then, what good is it to be annoyed.  Some people will always judge a book by its cover.  They’ll miss out on a lot that way.

#10: I disagree with caning, but people must be held accountable.  I used other methods of dealing with pupils who did not do their work, but being as that is the most accepted form of punishment here, and parents cane their children at home, I understand why teachers must take such actions.  When you love someone you, you must show them that you care (even when it’s not easy).  Show them that you expect something of them and that you believe they can achieve it.

#11: I’d heard stories of others who had travelled to Africa, that they were followed by children, but I hadn’t really understood.  I was not prepared for the way that I would be followed, gawked at, called to, and touched.  I was astonished by the reactions of children and adults alike when I first arrived, but thought that their fascination with the muzungu would fade after a week.  Here I am 7 months later, and they are still just as fascinated.  Each day as I walk out of the house, I hear calls to Muzungu or to Chepchumindet.  I am touched on the face, the hands, the neck, and the hair, by people wanting to see if I feel the same.  I am at times pinched, to see if I feel pain.  At times this can be frustrating and I just want to hide myself away or scold someone.  Yes, I am human.  Sometimes I just want to feel like a normal person.  Then I remember that Your attitude has a huge impact on your perspective.  If you’re unhappy—change the situation or your attitude.  It would be easy to refuse to greet anyone, to refuse to shake hands or smile, but that would be unfair.  I can’t make these people less curious.  It is better that I just accept them the way they are and smile and laugh to myself about how funny it is that they continue to be so intrigued. 

#12:  Entrusting someone with a little bit of power, taking a chance on them and showing you believe in them can make all the difference.  People were often complaining that the little girl was too playful and not serious or responsible.  They didn’t give her any tasks that she might botch.  She saw this.  I decided to take the risk and ask her to do bigger things.  She rose to the challenge and never failed me.  We developed a friendship and she was always eager to help me out.   

#13: Nothing is permanent.  Be generous and flexible.  Clothes get stained.  Papers get wet.  Items may not be returned.  The economy my plummet.  Crops may be damaged by hail or animals.  Homes may be burglarized.  Share.  Time comes and goes.  There is often a ‘next time.’

#14: We can never really know what we are capable of—good or bad—until confronted with difficult situations.  I saw both of these sides of myself during this time here.  I am ashamed to admit, that after barely escaping being clubbed by a drunk man, that when filing the police report, I agreed to go along with the corrupt system and let the police beat the man rather than returning to attend court (which could take months and several sittings).  On the other side, I didn’t know that I would carry a dirty, terrified child some distance and comfort her as she fled from an unknown danger and was shaking uncontrollably.

#15: Take time for people.  Make relationships your focus.  If you take time for people, they will take time for you.  Things don’t last, so don’t invest in work.  It’s the people you are there for who will help you out when you need someone to lean on.  

East African Poetry


Below are three poems by East African writers that I have come across, like, and can relate to/understand after spending time here, and appreciate.  Enjoy.


Building the Nation by Henry Barlow

Today I did my share
In building the nation.
I drove a Permanent Secretary
To an important urgent function
In fact to a luncheon at the Vic.

The menu reflected its importance
Cold Bell beer with small talk,
Then fried chicken with niceties
Wine to fill the hollowness of the laughs
Ice-cream to cover the stereotype jokes
Coffee to keep the PS awake on return journey.

I drove the Permanent Secretary back.
He yawned many times in back of the car
Then to keep awake, he suddenly asked,
Did you have any lunch friend?
I replied looking straight ahead
And secretly smiling at his belated concern
That I had not, but was slimming!

Upon which he said with a seriousness
That amused more than annoyed me,
Mwananchi, I too had none!
I attended to matters of state.
Highly delicate diplomatic duties you know,
And friend, it goes against my grain,
Causes me stomach ulcers and wind.
Ah, he continued, yawning again,
The pains we suffer in building the nation!

So the PS had ulcers too!
My ulcers I think are equally painful
Only they are caused by hunger,
Not sumptuous lunches!

So two nation builders
Arrived home this evening
With terrible stomach pains
The result of building the nation –
-Different ways.


The Guilt of Giving by Laban Erapu
You’ve seen that heap of rags
That pollutes the airconditioned
City Centre,
That louse that creeps about
In the clean core of sophistication;
You’ve seen him waylay his betters
And make them start—
Especially when they have no change.

You recall the day you came upon him
And were startled by his silent presence
Intruding into your preoccupation:
You hurled a coin
Which missed the mark
And rolled into the gutter
Where he groped for it
With a chilling grotesque gratitude
That followe3d you down the street.
You dived into the nearest shop
To escape the stare
Of the scandalised crowd
That found you guilty
Of recalling attention
To the impenetrable patience
They had learnt not to see.


I Speak for the Bush by Everett Standa

When my friend sees me
He swells and pants like a frog
Because I talk the wisdom of the bush!
He says we from the bush
Do not understand civilized ways
For we tell our women
To keep the hem of their dresses
Below the knee.
We from the bush, my friend insists,
Do not know how to ‘enjoy’:
When we come to the civilized city,
Like nuns, we stay away from nightclubs
Where women belong to no men
And men belong to no women
And these civilized people
Quarrel and fight like hungry lions!

But, my friend, why do men
With crippled legs, lifeless eyes,
Wooden legs, empty stomachs
Wander about the streets
Of this civilized world?

Teach me, my friend, the trick,
So that my eyes may not
See those whose houses have no walls
But emptiness all around;
Show me the wax you use
To seal your ears
To stop hearing the cry of the hungry;

Teach me the new wisdom
Which tells men
To talk about money and not love
When they meet women;

Tell your God to convert
Me to the faith of the indifferent,
The faith of those
Who will never listen until
They are shaken with blows.

I speak for the bush:
You speak for the civilized—
Will you hear me?

Captured Moments



The chameleon I finally got to see and hold!


 Walking through the tea estates, there were people plucking tea and people taking theirs to be weighed.


Several of my siblings and I went to a river where we crossed just ahead 
of a waterfall which is used to produce hydroelectricity.

I love seeing kids passing their time peacefully outdoors.

Christmas


It’s funny how we come to associate one thing or another with a particular event.  To me Christmas is supposed to be accompanied by cold weather (usually snow), Christmas music, a tree and baked goods.  Here in Kenya, although it is a day of family get-togethers, a holiday, it doesn’t seem like Christmas to me.  No cold weather.  In fact, it is in the 70s (I think).  No familiar Christmas tunes.  No evergreen trees…not even a plastic one.  No baked goods. 

On Christmas Eve, there was no children’s re-enactment of the Christmas story, but the girls and I plaited our hair.  On Christmas, we celebrated the day by spending all morning preparing food with 3 different fires and a jiko.  We made about 100 chapati, rice, potatoes, sukuma wikii, peas, beans, mandazi, and a few other things, slaughtered a goat and a chicken (something I did not witness, but the cries reached the kitchen), and cleaned the place despite the rain in preparation for about 50 family members who were coming.  The sun shone as the visitors arrived, but poured down as we carried plates of food from the kitchen to the house (to the sitting room and bedrooms) to be served.  It was a busy, but enjoyable day, that like most celebratory events in Kenya revolved around eating, drinking tea, and giving/listening to speeches.  Hope you had a merry Christmas.  Happy New Year!

Thursday, December 20, 2012

SIM Card Rescue

One thing I thought I’d learned was that pit latrines are unforgiving.  When something falls in, it is never coming out.  Well, perhaps I don’t give them enough credit.  Perhaps latrines have a tiny bit of heart.  We often take our mobile phones to the outhouse at night so we can check for anything inside before using them.

The other night, Chepngetich’s phone slipped and the back came off.  Her battery and SIM card bounced and disappeared rapidly down the hole in the floor.  Now, most people would have written them off and decided that it was better to just purchase new ones, but Chepngetich was determined to get her SIM card back.

At 11 pm, she and I and one other person, went out to the latrine.  She could see them resting on the top of the manure pile below.  At first we thought we’d use a hoe, but the head (blade) was too wide to fit down the hole and the handles would not have been long enough anyway.  On to Plan B.  Sticks.  Chepngetich and I ripped 2 long branches off of some nearby trees and stripped the twigs to have two long sticks.  I held the flashlight, while she carefully reached the two branches downwards to retrieve the card.  She declared that the battery was not nearly as important as the tiny SIM card.  She reached the card, but the problem was pulling it up and out.  It kept slipping out of the ends of the branches. 

Plan C.  We searched for a plastic lid about 2 inches in diameter an stabbed a hole in the centre with a knife.  We then got another long stick and placed the lid on the end.  With more careful and calculated actions, we hauled both the SIM card and the battery out of the muck.  I ran and got some paper to hold them with and we carried them to the water spigot.  Chepgnetich threw numerous handfuls of water on them and wiped them with a leaf, before taking them inside and drying them. 

What celebration and laughter erupted when she tried them and both the battery and the SIM card functioned properly!  Nothing had been lost.  No one believed that we had really retrieved the items from the latrine.  It was so funny and something I won’t easily forget.

Saturday, December 15, 2012

Rules on the Road


Driving down Nebraska’s highways, it’s easy to get a lead foot or simply be tempted to set the cruise control five mph over the speed limit to reduce the amount of time spent on the road.  Both come with the risk of those dreaded red and blue lights appearing in the rearview mirror.  When suddenly meeting a police car, you hold your breath, silently praying it won’t swiftly turn around and pull you over.  When approaching a construction zone, you hope you won’t have to sit for twenty minutes awaiting your turn to proceed slowly down the single lane. 

The unwritten/informal rules of the road in Kenya are different.  First of all, in semi-rural areas, there is no need to worry about police cars, as there are few officers and they certainly do not have cars.  Instead, the traffic police known for corruption, stand on the edge of the road.  Robert Ngeno, who shares this opinion with many, stated, “That’s the only job there is that people wake up and go to the road to get money without doing any work!” 

More times than not, when I have been in a vehicle, we have been waved over to the side.  The driver then drops a bribe (usually 200 Kenyan shillings or about $2.40) out the window and is then signaled to continue onwards.  There is no problem. For personal vehicles—at times I think there isn’t any real problem, but for public vehicles, which are always overcrowded, paying the small bribe keeps them from suffering severe consequences as new traffic laws dictate. 

While I was in Nairobi a few weeks ago, the new traffic laws went into effect.  No, I think some changes ought to be made as Kenyan roads are among the most dangerous in the world with a very high number of fatalities in traffic accidents, but in my opinion, the consequences for offenses under the new laws are unreasonable.  Take for example someone having no insurance on his/her vehicle, even if it expired only one or two days prior.  This person could face a fine of 500,000 Ksh (nearly $6,000) or 10 years of imprisonment!  Of course this led to an uproar and many Kenyans (especially in Nairobi) did something that they are great at—They went on strike and rioted.  I was in Nairobi’s Central Business District, when I noticed something amiss.  To my horror, I watched as conductors shoved people out of buses and matatus, honked their horns, and drove recklessly: speeding, careening around corners, barreling over medians, driving on the wrong side of the streets and nearly hitting people all while empty inside.  Angry citizens began to throw things at the vehicles.  I knew I had to get out of there.  After two hours of searching for a vehicle willing to carry passengers down Thika Road, I was forced to pay 300 Ksh as opposed to the normal 80 ksh to Juja, but it was worth getting out of town.  Prices were very much inflated over the next few days and are now fixed at higher rates than they were back in November. 

Before entering any vehicle, I am sure to negotiate the fare so as to prevent being overcharged or having an argument within.  Most vehicles are stuffed far beyond capacity—the records of vehicles that I been in are 16 people in Corollas meant to carry 4-5 people, 26 people in Nissans intended for 14, and 4 people on motorbikes which are not designed for more than 2.  Overstuffed vehicles are not the only things on the roads that are often riddled with potholes and quite often large rocks and dust, not to mention an insane number of speed bumps.  I’ve seen roads shared  by lorries (semi-trucks), motorcycles (bodabodas), matatus, private cars, buses, donkeys pulling carts or packing sacks of maize, pedestrians, and camels. 

The roads are like mazes—various forms of transport speeding around others while dodging potholes and taking unmarked detours.  In many places—especially between Kericho and Kisumu or Litein and Eldoret, the roads are supposedly under construction, so vehicles are forced to go down onto rough dusty paths and come back up after some time, without any signs of directing them.  Other surprises to drivers can be unmarked speed bumps and sometimes series of them.  Between two small towns in Bureti District, is a series of speed bumps: 1 bar, 2 bars, 3,4,3,2,1 within a few hundred feet.  Vehicles weave back and forth across the two lanes as they rumble slowly over them making them seem more dangerous to me than if the vehicles were driving quickly.

As uncomfortable as public transport can be at times, I’m thankful I don’t have to drive these crazy roads and remember to keep on the left-hand side.  I don’t think I’ll ever fully understand them.

Patience


Is patience a virtue? 
Where does it come from?
Where does it go?
Is is hope dying?
Is it not caring? 
Is it growing?
Is it learning? 
Is it loving and forgiving? 
More than anything else,
it is something I’m learning,
but sometimes it’s so hard!

Sunday, December 9, 2012

Recent Snapshots

Me and Madam Daisy with Class 6 West


Pupils at Kimori Academy on closing day


A glimpse of the Great Rift Valley


A small piece of the crowd at a university graduation

Living in Tea Country


Have you ever stopped to wonder where tea comes from and how it gets to your lips?  Having spent the past 6 months in tea country in the South Rift, I finally took a tour of the nearest tea factory to discover just how the tea I’ve been consuming numerous times each day, comes to be a tasty drink from the plants in the plantations. 

The Mogogosiek Tea Factory, just down the road from where I stay, was established in 1884 and is just one of 65 factories of the Kenya Tea Development Association (KTDA).  Unlike the large British-owned tea estates of Unilever, Sasini, and James Finlay in the area, the factory is owned 100% by a group of 22,000 small scale farmer.  Six directors elected by the farmers oversee the factory’s operations and 150 workers.   The factory is ISO certifies; complying with food safety regulations.  Mogogosiek Tea Factory’s set processing capacity is 15 million kilograms of tea per year; however, they are exceeding that by 7 million kilograms annually.  Tea is Kenya’s highest foreign exchange earner, with 86% of the tea that is produced being exported.  The United Kingdom is the biggest importer of Kenyan tea, while Egypt, Pakistan, India and Somalia are also important consumers.

Once inside the large iron gate, Gladys (one of my Kenyan sisters) and I were taken to an office where we met a manager and were each served a cup of black tea mixed with milk.  We were given a white lab coat and white caps to wear for a tour.  After a satisfying taste of tea, we were met by a worker, Wesley, who was to give us a tour.  He did an excellent job, as he was very knowledgeable and also patient to answer questions. 

Wesley began by leading us out of the offices outside to the Reception Area where the large banana-crème colored trucks carrying 240 brown sisal bags of tea leaves were pulling up to deposit their leaves.  At this point, workers unhooked the bags from the trucks and hook them onto a humming monorail, which reminded me of a miniature ski lift to transport the leaves to where 76 troughs were waiting.    

The purposes of the troughs are to be used for sorting and wilting the tea leaves.  Leaves that are not in combinations of two leaves and a bud, are rejected and must be resorted.  Tea accepted by the Mogogosiek Tea Factory may only be handpicked, not cut by machines as in some larger estates. 

After sorting, the tea is left in other troughs to wilt.  The green leaves are spread quickly by one person in the troughs, followed up by another person who is more attentive and careful to spread the leaves evenly so that they wilt at an equal rate.  The withering area is warm  as the troughs are treated with steam underneath.  Fans rotating clockwise pump steam into the troughs, while they can be switched to run counterclockwise to suck steam.  After 2-3 hours the tea wilts to 67.5% of its original water capacity and is now ready to be cut and fermented.  It is transported from the Withering Area to the Processing Area via a conveyor in between the troughs. 

Down below, in the processing area, weighing scales controlled by a computerized machine, determine how quickly the tea is processed.  At the time we were there, they were cutting approximately 3500 kilograms of tea per hour.  The method of tea processing used in the Mogogosiek Tea Factory is known as CTC (Crush/Cut, Tear, Can).  The withered leaves are cut three times, becoming finer with each cut and filling the area with a strong scent similar to that of cut grass.  After being crushed and cut, it goes through the fermentation process, where the color changes gradually from a bright green to a medium brown.  The Continuous Fermenting Unit (CFU) is the machine used to ferment the tea leaves.  It s controlled by a thermometer and produces a noisy sound, similar to that of a diesel engine, although it runs on electricity.  Until 2009, the CFU was run manually by 90 workers, who then lost their jobs when the electric machine was introduced.  The tea is cut once more in its brown state if it has too much tanine.   After running through the fermentation stage for a second time, the tea moves along a conveyer belt to the drier where it remains for 1 – 1.5 hours. 

In the Boiler Area, our eyes stung with dust, but we were thankful for the dust masks to help keep us from ingesting the dust.  The drying machines transport the tea to this area sounding of squeaky machines and the drone of a loud motor.  The tea just arriving at the mouth of the driers is warm and full of fibers.  A fibro screen is a machine that is then used to remove the fibers by rolling them out and shaking the seeds down.  This is repeated as often as necessary until the tea is free of dirt and fibers.  The tea is then presorted according to grade, containing sees of differ sizes.  The grade of tea can be adjusted by the time that it spends in the Processing Area.  The larger the seeds, the higher the grade meaning that Grade 1 tea, having the largest seeds, is most often used for export, while the finer grains of lower quality are used locally.  The fourth grade known as Dust 1, is extremely fine like powdered sugar.  Something looking like a winnower is used to clean the tea before it is moved to bins, which are large storage facilities.  The large metal bins read BP, PF1, PP, and D1 according to the grade of tea they are. 

From the bins, the tea is moved to the Packing Section, where there are packers, forming boxes, and paper sacks which are labeled by grade and weigh 68 kilograms.  After the bags are weighed once more, they are sealed and loaded into trucks to be taken to a warehouse. 

Finally, we proceeded past a storage facility of old tires, scrap metal, plastic and waste paper to the Boiler Section: the heartbeat of the factory.  The steam boilers are fueled by wood, usually from Blue Gum trees.  100m3 is used daily on average to keep the boilers running.  The tea factory owns 63 acres of land on which it grows blue gum trees for its own use.  After 10 years, trees can be cut and used in the boilers.  There are workers constantly throwing in logs and stoking the fire, and adjusting the fans to control the heat.  Three large square water tanks are used to supply the two boilers with water.  From the boilers comes a droning sound with a singing noise approximately every 8 seconds.  A very tall chimney waits nearby, sending the smoke far up into the air. 

At the end of our tour we were taken to the shed where fuel wood is brought by large yellow Isuzu trucks and cut by chainsaws and stored as it dries.  Six men work together cutting and throwing the logs by hand during eight hour shifts.  Nearby sat a small red trackor and wooden trailer, as our nostrils filled with the smell of dust.    

We finished by going to the test-tasting unite where tea is taken from each of the areas in the factory and tasted before being shipped to the coastal city of Mombasa for further testing.  The tea is mixed with river water for test tasting so as to not have any minerals in it. 

After learning all this, tasting tea and finding out the 1 kilogram of green leaves produces ¼ kg of tea, I now look at the nearby plantations and estates and the tea in my cup with amazement.