June 5, 2011
(Pictures added!)
Not much has happened over the past week, which in all actuality was a good thing. It was nice to be back at home base for a little while, and in my case, not to sweat through my clothes before noon. It also gave me a chance to get some laundry done. I must admit, I do enjoy getting my clothes back, freshly dried and crisp from hanging on the line. It is just a whole other level of freshness.
There has been a dearth of activity at the main KEFRI center since it has been necessary to coordinate project trips before we can really start working on anything. This week however, I was asked to come up with a gender based violence policy for the Institution. Though not exactly my cup of tea, it was interesting to learn about an area of policy making that I had never really thought about.
The excitement for the week came on Wednesday, which we were surprised to learn was a national holiday - Madaraka Day, or Kenyan Independence Day to all you wazungus. Our driver, George Igogo (igogo means 'eagle' in swahili), invited us to celebrate with his family, which meant that we would get to walk over to some of the nearby villages. Compared to the US, most people do not have very much, so we all appreciated what a gesture our friend was making.
I really did not know what to expect when George showed up at our door on Wednesday morning. To get to George’s village of Nguriundito, we would have to walk down through the local forest (planted by our boss) that almost everyone has told us to avoid without the company of a local. I have yet to see any really questionable characters around KEFRI but apparently they exist. Anyway, we set off through the woods with George and his son James, who was so shy in front of us wazungus that he did not breath a word for 6 hours. We walked for around half an hour through a forest of eucalyptus, with plots of maize hastily planted in any sunny patches.
As many of you may have guessed, eucalyptus is not native to East Africa. Although I am not sure about the global range of the species, the varieties being planted around Kenya are imported from Australia. Eucalyptus is a very fast growing tree, achieving sizes useful for timber purposes in a little over half the time necessary for indigenous trees like acacia to achieve comparable mass. Of course, there are tradeoffs. Eucalyptus is adapted to the arid environment of Australia, so they require vast amounts of water. It is generally recommended not to plant tracts of the tree along watercourses because they will suck it dry. Furthermore, some species turn the soil more acidic, inhibiting the growth of native vegetation. The planting of eucalyptus is a hotly debated topic in Kenya these days. Farmers like it because they can use it relatively quickly for poles. Environmentalists claim that widespread planting is contributing to a general loss in biodiversity.
(Note: I've started reading about the planting of Eucalyptus, globally. It is the most popular exotic tree planted worldwide. Claims that the trees will dry watercourses are not true. Instead, poor agricultural practices are more often to blame for the degradation of water sources. However, it is true that the trees contribute to a loss in biodiversity.)
Leah and Pat looking for koalas in the eucalypts - wrong continent guys!
Thinking about the costs and benefits of eucalyptus, we emerged from the forest into one of the more attractive settlements I have ever had the chance to see. Most of the time, I only see Kenyan towns from the road, and they all follow the same scheme, a pot-hole ridden street lined with vegetable and fruit stalls, a hardware store, a butcher shop, a nyamachoma restaurant, a dry goods store and maybe a bar. Although there is usually a good bit of trash in the gutters, the layout is much cleaner and practical than it may appear at first glance. Away from the road though, the story is much different. Nguriundito made me want to buy some chickens, plant some maize and settle down to live. Setting eyes on the village was almost like taking a step back in time. Small, bright houses set back from the path peeped out from bright green patches of maize, with avocado, banana and paw-paw set under the eaves. The air was so clean it seemed to sparkle. There was no sound except for the small sounds of community: the chirping of birds, the distant lowing of a cow and the laughter of children playing. Although I saw powerlines, I cannot say that I heard a television or radio. There was not a speck of litter. I guess the best way to say it was that the community was beautiful in its simplicity. So beautiful in fact that I pulled out my iPhone, uploaded a video of the streets to Youtube, wrote three tweets and updated my Facebook status to “Nguriundito for realz”. Kidding.
Approaching the shambas of Nguriundito.
After a nice uphill hike, we passed a sacred ficus tree, and finally arrived at George’s shamba. The house was made primarily of corrugated tin, set around eucalyptus poles set in a concrete slab. Though simple, it was open, airy, spotlessly clean and with plenty of room for George, his wife, and three children. A tin and brush fence surrounded the property, with room for a cookhouse, pigpen, cow pen, rabbit hutches and a small garden. His wife (whose name I just can’t recall – she spoke no English) cooked a feast, and we were joined by a set of grandparents and multiple cousins. We dined on beef stew and rice, boiled potatoes, cabbage, a tomato, onion and cilantro salad, peas and carrots, a Kikuyu dish of potato and pumpkin leaves (it was green and delicious) and my favorite, homemade chappati. It was the most unbelievable chappati I have had so far – you could taste the wood smoke from the cook fire on which it had been prepared. Of course, all of the food was grown locally, even the beef. After three plates of that delicious green mystery food and chappati, I was ready to pass out - don’t worry Mom, I haven’t lost too much weight!
I happened to glance up mid-gorge and noticed that the 10 other people in the room were staring at Leah, Pat and I as we ate. I would wager to guess that we are the only white people that have ever been to George’s house. Judging from the reaction of the kids around the neighborhood, I would guess that there are no frequent white visitors to the neighborhood either. We took a walk after lunch and once the kids figured out that we were people too, we had our own entourage! George’s family accompanied us on a walk back to KEFRI later that afternoon – I was holding hands with two kids, and alternating swinging them up in the air with every other step. They were fascinated that I had arm hair, and I know that all the girls wanted to touch Leah’s hair . . . and Pat’s bleached blonde mane for that matter. All in all, a great day, and especially fulfilling because we got to spend some time with family, and even though it was not our own, we were made to feel at home.
The rest of the week passed quickly, and especially once I learned that I would be headed to the Gwasi region to work on the sustainable reforestation project. I knocked out the gender policy assignment, and on Saturday, Pat, Leah and I headed down to the Nairobi National Park to go to the Elephant Orphanage. Traffic was exceptionally bad that morning so instead of the 2 hour travel time for which I had budgeted, the trip wound up taking closer to three. Having missed our window to see the “ellies” (according to Leah) we decided to check out the Nature Walk at the Park. Although it was zoo-like, we made another slightly shady deal with a guy to take us around (he said he was an intern but I didn’t believe him) and were able to feed a cage of colobus monkeys and an ostrich. There is a particular tree growing around the compound that all the animals are crazy about – we fed it to the monkeys and ostrich, but every herbivore I saw on Saturday was nibbling on its leaves. The highlight of the walk was seeing the bongo – a massive red, spiral horned, forest antelope. I had only seen them in pictures. After the Walk, we headed up the road to the Galleria in Karen-town where Leah and I previously got our first real supper in Kenya. My prayers to the coffee gods were answered because I was able to procure a real live French press! My life is about to get exponentially better.
Sunday, Pat and I went back to town to try and run a couple more errands. I needed to buy some shoes for the suit I plan to wear during my stint at Mumias Sugar – I unknowingly brought the unacceptable combination of black shoes and brown belt. Unbeknownst to us though, every store in Nairobi is closed on Sundays, so the shoe-shopping foray was a failure. However, we wound up going to the open air Masai Market, where vendors sell all of those cool African gifts that your family wants. I got some neat gifts but WAY overpaid. If you come to Nairobi, do not go to Masai Market. Buy your gifts for 300% less elsewhere.
I think that about puts the wraps on the first week of June. Next week I am off to Gwasi in the southwest corner of the country, and the following week I will spend in Mumias learning about carbon credits and the sugar industry. Best!
Doing some laundry in Kenya? Keep it clean.
ReplyDeleteNow you know how I feel with your family. Joking... mostly.
!i.