Kenya: 'And so it is Christmas, and what have you done ...'

Today is my last full day in Kakamega, 5 months in Kenya, so 2010 will always be connected to my first true African experience. Its been a rich experience, working and travelling amongst Kenyan people who have extended much kindness and goodheartedness toward this mzungu in their midst. To my Kenyan friends, asante sana, and the same to my Canadian colleagues with whom I have shared the experience.
As usual, a few stories and thoughts to bring this trip to a close.

Bridging the Gap
Last week I made my final trip on the bike up to the Cherangani Hills, and then beyond to Marich Pass where the Moruny River runs out toward Turkana to the north. I stayed at Marich Pass Field Studies Centre, a remarkably serene riverside site, a legacy to its founder Dr. David Roden. http://www.gg.rhul.ac.uk/marichpass/welcome/aboutmarich.htm

On my second night there, I meet Harmon Parker, an American who has lived in Kenya for over 20years, devoting his life to 'bridging the gap.' Harmon had just returned from the States, where his remarkable efforts to transform rural Kenyan lives had been recognized at a high profile event. http://www.bridgingthegapafrica.org/
I visited one of his projects and we spent a few nights at Marich. Despite his new noteriety, and the attendant flurry of attention, interest and email, there he was in the bush preparing the site for a new bridge. I tip my hat to Harmon, well deserving of his 'hero' recognition. Please check out his website for details.

Kenya!!
The case of the caddy
My CHES colleague Margaret plays golf each week in Kakamega. Her caddy is Kizito, a young Kenyan who keeps track of her ball, polishes her clubs, and ensures a good lie for the next shot, whether its deserved or not. In the midst of our Christmas we get a phone message to say that Kizito had died, purportedly due to drinking 'changaa', a sometimes lethal home brew that claims lives in Kenya every year. A sad, but all too frequent occurence here.
However, on further investigation, the story now is that he succumbed to poisoning of a different kind.
What poison potion you ask? Well, after you've caught the chameleon, you skin it, dry its hide, and then reduce to powder - viola, poison for your foes!
Perhaps there will be further installments on Kizito's demise, but for now chameleons are implicated, and Margaret on the lookout for a caddy.

Barclays Bank
Just prior to Christmas I sold the noble Yamaha 100 to a Kenyan friend in Kakamega. It felt as if I had lost a limb, such had been our close connection for 5 months. The Yahama had taken me all over Kenya without complaint, even when the Rift Valley escarpments reduced us to second gear. Africa, I figure, is best seen at slow speeds anyway.
However I did recoup a fistful of Kenyan shillings to compensate for my loss, so off I went to Barclays Bank to convert shillings to dollars American.
First in line, I could see the young teller look nervously as the mzungu approached the wicket; not his choice for first customer of the day on Christmas eve. We attempt communication, blocked by security glass, and also complicated by the versions and accents of English we bring to the event. I want $500US. He begins calculations, not on a machine, but on a pad of paper that's been used for all kinds of notes and numbers already. I know the answer to his calculation - the buying rate is clearly posted high on the bank wall, alongside Euros, pounds etc.
"That will be 4,475 shillings." "Really... you're sure?" I respond. He confirms, and the transaction proceeds.
Transactions take time at Barclays, and I'm using the only cashier on hand. I can feel the accumulated weariness of the growing line of Kenyans bearing witness to the mzungu, ensuring a slower than usual start at the bank today. A screen is consulted, the cashier withdraws, a supervisor is summoned, the line up grows and shuffles, the American 100s appear, the clock ticks. After 12 minutes we are ready to proceed. He requests my Kenyan shillings. "4,475" I confirm. Indeed it is. I know that my passport will be required, and my identity assured, but there is still a moment when I see myself exiting Barclays having purchased dollars for one tenth of their value. But I cannot bring myself to ruin this poors mans Christmas, and I suggest he check his calculations. A visible twitch, well more like a small jolt, followed by a sheepish smile cross his face, and the transaction continues, albeit more accurately.

Update on Ocampo (see previous blog)
Two weeks ago the ICC chief prosecutor named six prominent Kenyan politicians and public figures whose names and evidence he's forwarded to the ICC judiciary to determine whether criminal charges will be brought in connection with promoting the post election tribal violence in 07/08.
This has created great political upheaval and public debate in the country. Kenya had the opportunity to investigate its own 'dirty laundry' surrounding the violence, but could not generate enough political will to do so, and now its ended up at the Hague.
In a show of just how weak willed and self interested the political class are here in Kenya, the parliament has since voted unanimously to withdraw from the ICC. This wont stop the Ocampo prosecutions from going ahead if warranted, but it does demonstrate that Kenya needs a new generation of leaders who will deal with the corruption and attentant impunity that its current political class are unwilling to do so.

Saiwa Swamp
This the smallest national park in Kenya, but reputed as one of the very few places to see sitaunga antelopes. They live happily in the wetlands and viewing towers have been built to assist spotting. Its close to Kitale in the Cherangani Hills, and on my way to Marich, so why not.
Well, I dont end up seeing the elusive sitaunga, but do encounter these other interesting critters on my walk.

Black Mamba