As you may have heard, an opposition MP, Mugabe Were was shot and killed yesterday in Embakasi, Nairobi. The neighbourhood was understandably thrown into chaos -- the first indication for me that something was wrong was that one of my colleagues who lives there was unable to come into work. Both ODM and PNU issued messages of condolences and called for peace, so at least there was no immediate cry for revenge or protest. As far as I can tell, there were localized demonstrations and though some businesses were burned and a few residents injured, no one else was killed. The police had thrown teargas into the compound where family and friends of Were were mourning, and have since apologized for this "stray gas". Now we are just waiting to see what new developments may arise from this. Alongside the stories of the shooting are articles on the continuing mediation talks between Kibaki and Odinga, and images of them drinking juice and tea together. It all seems a bit absurd, but even if negotiations are moving at a snail's pace, at least they are happening at all.

Yesterday, I was nervous that fresh riots might erupt in town due to the shooting, but though it was even more hectic than I had remembered, this was not due to any kind of political fervor. Instead, the political situation has allowed downtown to be overrun by merchants. Whole streets that used to be the realm of matatus have been usurped by hawkers pushing all manner of goods. It seems that with the police concentrating on breaking up riots and violence, the hawkers have been left to flourish. One area is filled with clothing: shirts, bags, pants, bras, underwear, glasses, belts, shoes, anything you could possibly want. Black market DVD sales are booming as well, with several movies on one disk grouped by theme or actor. In the past we've invested in Denzel Washington and Johnny Depp. This year the first purchase was an Angelina Jolie collection, 20 movies for 250Ksh (about $3.50).

Another area is the site of a little food market, where mamas sit and sell their fruits and veg while their babies are strapped to their backs or crawling somewhere nearby in the dirt and glass. The air is practically blue with exhaust fumes, and here and there plastic bags cling to barbed wire along the sidewalk. With the crush of people everywhere, it's impossible to rush through town now, especially in the afternoon. Everywhere, hawkers cry out their prices and try to entice me with calls of 'Yes please, customer' and 'Karibu mzungu' (welcome, white girl -- apparently my skin is not sufficiently dark to qualify me as anything but white at the moment). I must admit that I am quite frequently tempted by the clothing (being an avid Value Village shopper back in Canada), but some of the stalls carry some pretty sketchy merchandise. One table displayed "traditional medicines", sickly green and brown liquids siphoned into old liquor bottles, water bottles and honey jars. The stall owner claimed that his concoctions would cure cancer, malaria and "brain diseases", along with a host of more minor ailments. Nairobi is all about attitude, and Nairobians saunter through this mess with studied insouciance. It's as if they have to be extra cool and unhurried to counteract the frenzy of activity all around them. I don't mean to make it sound terrible -- I love Nairobi in all of its gritty, swaggering glory.

With all of this madness, getting to work in the morning is a bit of a challenge, but luckily we're operating on 'African time', so punctuality isn't exactly a priority. Speaking as someone who's chronically late, this system makes a lot of sense to me. Today I underestimated the time it would take me to get home by half an hour. My coworkers, however, were nowhere to be found when I arrived. In a typical display of Kenyan hospitality, the women in the neighbouring office insisted that I come and sit with them, read the newspaper and have some chai and cookies while I waited for another half an hour for everyone else to arrive. They run a travel agency, so unfortunately the unrest in Kenya means that business is nearly dead for them.

The office is in a different location from when I did my internship in 2006. Then we were in Ngumo, a neighbourhood that was quite close to Kibera. The office was fine but a bit cramped, and I often resorted to sneaking into a nearby hotel to use the washroom, as our toilet was dirty, leaky, didn't flush, had no seat, no sink and no toilet paper (par for the course, really). The new office is in Upper Hill, a posh neighbourhood that mostly houses businesses and a few upscale apartments. It's a bit of a hike from the matatu stand to get there, and it's a bit scary trying to cross the roundabout. It takes me about ten minutes just to cross the street and usually I find a clump of other people crossing and attempt to cushion myself with them, which is kind of awful, but I figure they've taken years to master the art of walking into traffic like you're taking a stroll in the park. It's well worth the trouble, though. The new office is much more spacious, with a little kitchenette and an actual functioning toilet, and the view is wonderful. It also feels much more secure -- there is no fear that someone will bust in and steal my laptop at any moment. Luxury!

Lucy, the director of IIN, is out of town on business, and right now there are just a few of us in the office. I've been working on the website content and hopefully will get a friend in soon to help me with the technical side of things. It's not easy for me to tell how much fieldwork we'll be able to do, or how much work in general, given that so much of what is needed right now is simply relief. But if we work on proposals for projects now, perhaps by the time we've organized our funding and collaboration with others, the country will be safe enough that we can travel, visit our partner organizations in rural areas and hold trainings and conferences. We can only hope, because the issues we're addressing don't just disappear in a crisis. If anything, they'll get worse.

escalating violence in the West

There have been a lot of mixed emotions in the past few days. While I have been finally getting out an about in Nairobi, seeing old friends, meeting new people and feeling rejuvinated, the news of increasing violence in Rift Valley has been absolutely sickening. This weekend, Nakuru and Naivasha were both sites of widespread gang violence, of house burning, murder and rape. It's hard to believe that this is happening in the Kenya that I love, a place that until recently has been largely peaceful. The Kenyans that I know have always been so proud of their country and optimistic for the future. These recent developments have brought shock, shame, and a sense of uncertainty and doubt. It's heartbreaking to see that loss of hope. It's heartbreaking to see these images, of boys who couldn't be older than 16 armed with bows and arrows, of people carrying mattresses and bundles while fleeing burning homes, of people shot and hacked and burned to death by their own neighbours. It doesn't feel real.

Here in Nairobi, things are calm, though the evidence of the local unrest is in the thousands that are still displaced, living in camps scattered across the city. Yesterday while travelling to meet friends, we passed a group of burned homes, pathetic piles of charred wood and plastic. A gas station in the area had also been burned and looted, while all around the site hawkers continued to sell their wares, women passed by carrying babies, dogs wandered through as if all was normal. Later, we passed by a small camp of displaced people. They had set up rows of tents that seemed to be fashioned with sticks and bedsheets -- hardly enough to feel secure, to keep out the cold at night or the unseasonable rain that we have been experiencing this past week. I can't imagine how these people must be feeling. Even if they came from the slums, at least there they had a place to call their own, perhaps a small business, a few possessions. Now they are unable to work, unable to return home, may have friends and family members, or not even know whether or not their loved ones are alive.

On Sunday I attended my first Mathare Roots meeting, a group run by youth from Mathare slum. They are planning to visit a few of the camps next weekend, to bring clothing and other provisions, to give a bit of entertainment and counselling where possible. I've been invited to go with them, and would like to bring whatever I can to provide some relief. If any of you would like to make a donation to buy clothing or food for people living in refugee camps, please email me and I'll see what I can work out.

Despite all of the horrific events of the past few days, being able to attend the Roots meeting and visit my friends has been amazing. There are so many projects running under the umbrella of this one group -- a sports program, community outreach, a photography group for the younger kids and a dance group, to name a few. One of the newer projects which my friend Tito is working on is an adolescent health program. Youth group members will visit informal schools in the area -- these are schools run by community members, attended by children who cannot afford to buy the uniforms and books or arrange transportation that would allow them to attend formal, government-established schools. The program would address myths about sexual activities and health, attempt to establish open dialog about puberty, menstruation, contraception and health. In an area where unplanned pregnancies and HIV/AIDS are still common and can be absolutely devastating if one hardly has the resources to support oneself, that knowledge can be immensely powerful. It's going to be a bit of a challenge to establish an atmosphere in which the kids feel comfortable talking about these sorts of things, particularly the young girls who tend to be quite shy, but I'm really excited about this program, and hope that I have the time to help out if I can.

At the meeting I also met my friends' new child, and was adopted by a ten-year old boy called Lucky who is taking part in the photography project. He took over my camera for a while, and is actually quite good. While at first he would hardly look me in the eye, by the end of the day he was sitting in my lap and dragging me around by the arm. His mom gave us permission to take him out for the evening, so we had our first little visitor in the apartment.

It has been a bit frustrating in a way, living in our little middle-class bubble of a neighbourhood while watching Rift Valley burn. While the politicians in Nairobi shake hands and smile for the cameras, they continue to reiterate their positions, aggressively refusing to concede anything to one another. I can't imagine what kind of political arrangement could be worked out at this point, and even if things stabilized at a political level, how long it will take this country to heal after neighbours have turned on each other. There has been some suggestion that some of the violence had been planned even before the elections -- that part of it had been orchestrated in order to reclaim land or to take revenge on Kikuyus for the disproportionate political and economic power some members of that group have enjoyed since independence. Many Kikuyus living in Rift Valley had moved to that area to work on farms established by British settlers, and have lived there ever since despite the land being the traditional realm of other groups (Maasai and Kalenjin?). I'm a little bit shaky on the history here and don't have a whole lot of access to this information, so I couldn't tell you exactly what the situation has been since independence, but I do know that land rights have been a big issue in that region, as in most of Kenya, and I'm sure this must have played a role in this weekend's attacks. Whether or not it had been premeditated, I couldn't really say. Thinking about that possibility makes me feel ill (what kind of monster could sanction this?), though I'm not sure whether it would be worse had it been planned or spontaneous.

I'm really wishing that I understood Swahili better in order to better follow the news reports here (as well as the Roots meetings and other conversations of interest). At least that's some incentive to improve my skills quickly. Hopefully I'll be able to get more information and understand the situation a little better soon.

Karibu Kenya

So I've arrived at last, safe and sound. I was very lucky: the protests which were scheduled for Thursday were called off, and when we drove to the apartment things seemed to be more or less normal.

It was a rough couple of days coming over. I couldn't sleep at all on the first flight. The second flight marked the first time I have ever been sick on a plane, which I can tell you was not an experience that I'm eager to repeat. By the time I arrived in Nairobi, I was feeling pretty shaky and nauseous. Luckily George was there to meet me in the airport, and we went straight to the apartment in Buruburu.

The new place is definitely nicer than the old place in South C, though we're having a few of the same issues: we've had no water at all so far, and I'm told that we also have cockroaches, though I haven't yet seen them first-hand. Buruburu is a fairly middle-clas neighbourhood, and the apartment is above businesses like banks, cyber cafes and pharmacies, which means that the security is very good. The major drawbacks are that it's across town from work, which means that I would have to commute through downtown (which wouldn't exactly be the best idea if protests resume), and that it's right on a major road. I was exhausted last night, but kept waking up to the sound of trucks and matatu horns and music (matatus are the mini-buses which are used for public transportation, and are famous for dangerous driving, flashy lights, over-the-top paint jobs and obnoxiously loud music). We'll continue to look for a place West of town. I'm hoping for a place in Hurlingham, so that I can get to work without going through town, and might even be able to walk.

The next couple of days will be fairly laid back as I settle in, and we arrange things for the apartment. Here the only indication that things are out of the ordinary in Kenya is that politics is on everyone's lips, even more so than usual. Yesterday was the first meeting between Kibaki and Odinga, and while it's great that the two sides agreed to meet, neither has budged an inch. Most people I've spoken with so far have been quite cynical about the possibility of a power-sharing agreement, though the cover of the Nation today proclaimed 'Hope at last'.

Only time will tell, I suppose. My greatest concern is that even if peace is restored in the short-term (which is a pretty big if), the underlying causes of the violence must still be addressed. To see this conflict as simply an emergency situation without talking about economic and political inequality and land rights issues would be missing the point entirely. I can only hope that in these mediation talks, long-term issues are discussed as well as short-term conflict resolution.

I also just have to note that the cyber cafe is playing Celine Dion right now. She's everywhere.

tomorrow, tomorrow...

The last night before a big trip is always a fitful one. I'm so wrapped up in excitement and anxiety that I'm sure I'll hardly sleep at all. My last day in Canada was filled with things I won't be able to appreciate again for awhile: beautiful snow, a tofu sandwich, sushi and a long, hot shower. And of course seeing friends who I will miss dearly. But although I will miss all of these things, I've been aching to return to Kenya, and will be ecstatic once I finally arrive.

My first introduction to Kenya was through McGill's Canadian Field Studies in Africa program, in 2005. CFSIA allows students who read and attend lectures about international development, anthropology, biology and geography in a classroom to explore those subjects in the field, to gain firsthand knowledge and interact with a variety of fascinating people. That first trip allowed me to form great relationships which I still value to this day. It was on the CFSIA trip that I met my boyfriend George. George is the chairman of Mathare Roots, a youth group dedicated to community development in Mathare slum, specifically tackling issues such as HIV/AIDS, drug abuse and environmental degradation. Unfortunately, the youth group's activities are somewhat on hold at the moment until Mathare becomes more calm.

In 2006, through McGill's Arts Internship program, I returned to Kenya to work at Indigenous Information Network, an indigenous rights advocacy group. IIN helps to coordinate community-based organizations at a grassroots level with larger national and international organizations, for the purposes of lobbying and fundraising. Lack of infrastructure makes it difficult for small community groups to coordinate with each other, as well as access services offered by the government and international organizations, so that's where we come in. Many of our partner organizations are small groups working to encourage education in the community, achieve economic independence (i.e. developing a source of sustainable income without having to rely on outside donors), to preserve traditional languages or cultural practices, to assert land or environmental rights, or to achieve gender equality.

We serve mostly rural populations, who are attempting to maintain semi-traditional lifestyles and identities while integrating themselves into the modern state. IIN publishes a magazine, Nomadic News, with articles by members of our partner groups, chronicling the challenges and success stories of their communities, and of indigenous peoples on a global scale. We run scholarship programs for young indigenous women, conduct trainings on skills such as grant and proposal writing, and help organize conferences on issues from land rights to desertification to fundraising for women's rights. It's quite the busy office, and we always seem to be involved in a few dozen projects at once. I found the experience to be challenging and frustrating, but also a lot of fun, and very fulfilling.

This year I will be working with IIN again, this time with more of a focus on women's rights. I don't know exactly what I'll be doing, but I'm hoping to work on the website (somehow -- it's difficult when one is so technologically challenged), help organize conferences on sexuality and fundraising for gender-related projects, and do some writing for the magazine. I'm sure that no matter what I end up doing, it will be an amazing learning experience.

Of course the post-election instability has been very disruptive to all of my friends in Kenya and to my plans. It is unclear to me how much work we will actually be able to get done given the current political climate. Kofi Annan is supposed to be facilitating mediation talks tomorrow, so perhaps something will come of it. In the meantime, those wishing to help can donate to organizations such as the Red Cross, who are providing relief efforts to those who have been forced out of their homes during the conflict. Another worthy and timely cause is Canada-Mathare Education Trust. So much of the violence in Nairobi has been concentrated in the slums of Kibera and Mathare -- areas where gangs are active, and people have limited means of venting their frustrations and anger in the face of a botched election. Supporting education initiatives in this area can allow residents more options in terms of employment, which can in turn improve living standards and benefit the community at large.

I can't say that I'm not a bit nervous, but I do have good contacts and caution on my side. I leave tomorrow -- here's hoping it all goes smoothly. I'll update again on the other side to let you all know that I've arrived safely. Forgive me if this entry was a bit disjointed, I feel as if I'm suffering from jetlag already!

Hopefully another update will come on Friday. If anyone would like email notification when I post, please leave a comment with your email address, or email me at kdearham(at)gmail(dot)com, and I will let you know when the posts go up. For you el jay users, there is a feed here.