Month: August 2009

Kenya

Work is Good

I’ve been at my new job for almost a month. I’ve been pretty busy and the work is challenging. I’m a consultant, so the pressure is on to deliver results consistent with my terms of reference. I was lonely at first, but I’m slowly making friends now. For instance: I am investigating joining the running club. They go running at lunch time a few days a week. In related news, I’ve discovered there’s a gym at my apartment complex (complete with a sauna). I’ve been going after work lately to work out, but it’s pretty lonely by myself, and you know I’m ADHD — it’d be great if I had people to work out with! I ran five kilometers tonight but I only have a pair of Converse, so it was far from optimal running conditions. I’ll look into buying a pair of running shoes this week.

I used to sit at this desk in the library, alone in a cubicle in the corner. I’ve since moved to a new desk which is in a warmer room. It was a good move, though I’m farther away from the server room, and that place was too cold anyways. I joined the coffee club at the old office for like five bucks for the month of August, but they only ever brought me tea. I would say I was swindled, but I kinda had a hunch it was too good to be true when they told me it was only 300 shillings per month. I am still trying to find a coffee pot for my house so I can drink coffee at home. My roommate has a coffee machine but the pot is broken, and Walmart hasn’t arrived in Kenya yet so spare pots are hard to come by. I guess that’s a lame excuse, because I could just put a cup under and push the spring, but then I’d need to buy coffee filters. Ugh!

Kenya

Nilihesabiwa!

“I was counted,” because Kenya is in the middle of counting Kenyans. The census, which apparently happens every decade, is a very manual process: from August 24th to 31st people are walking from house to house all over Kenya inquiring about certain welfare indicators. I’ve heard the list of questions includes things like how many kids in each home, how many toilets and which kind (flush or pit latrine?), diet, occupation, salary, etc. I wasn’t in the house when the counters came, so I’ll never be quite sure what questions they asked.

All I have to go on is the story I heard from my roommate’s girlfriend Tasleem. My Swahili isn’t so good, and neither is her English, and that makes it all the more hilarious. When I got home from work the security guard told me the census people had come, so I asked Tasleem, “Walikuuliza maswali gani?” (which questions did they ask you?). According to her, the representatives came in to see the living conditions, asking who lives in this room, and that one, etc. She told them, “Watu wawili wanaishi huko juu, mtu moja anaishi hapa chini” (two people live up there, one person lives down here). When I asked her if she told them Steve and I were foreigners she said no. Hah!

Mimi ni Mkenya (I’m a Kenyan). Also, she told me she informed them that I was a teacher, which is a close enough guess. Come to think of it, I’m not even sure she knows my name, because whenever I come home she just says, “Sema, bro?!” (like “say something, bro”). Karibu Kenya!

Kenya

Electric Fences Need Electricity?

Less-than-average rains this past year mean Kenya’s hydroelectric dam at Masinga is bone dry, forcing the government to start rationing electricity. There are so many reasons why failed rains suck (not the least of which is a pending famine), but here’s one I haven’t heard anyone talk about: how does an electric security fence work without electricity? You see, in addition to security guards, every private compound has a wall around its perimeter, topped with either broken glass or a few rows of electric cables. How are those fences going to zap intruders if power is cut from 6 AM to 6 PM three days a week? That’s not to say I’m worried about my security (I live on the fifth floor of my building, behind a bullet-proof door), it just seems like it would be a serious concern to some people.

The lack of rain is agitating in other funny ways too. For example, it’s hard to wash your hair when there’s no water in the house. This is, of course, a complication of the government’s other new rationing program: water! The worst-case scenario here is sleepily assuming you’ll be able to take a quick shower and snoozing your alarm, thereby grabbing an extra thirty minutes of sleep before work. This is fabulous until you wake up and crawl over to the shower, only to flip the knob and watch an anything-but-impressive stream of water dribble out. It’s happened to me twice in the last week! By the time I capture a pot of water, heat it on the stove, and wash my hair with a cup another half hour has passed and I’m cursing myself for nabbing those extra Zs… but they are always so sweet, so there is a good chance I’ll do the same thing tomorrow morning!