THE GOOD THE BAD AND THE
UGLY?
This blog is not my usual
travelogue blog. This is a more reflective look at my time here in Kenya, a
white westerner in black Africa: the good, the bad, the ugly. There may be some
venting, but I’m not a Hater and I’m not trying to be a Negative Nancy. I’m not
whining or wingeing, I’m just trying to give you an honest look at my
experience here. I may sound like I’m ranting at times, so be it. I’m a
certified expat at this point in time. And of course, I can only speak for
myself. From my experience thus far.
I moved here 33 months ago
and expected Nairobi to be an international, cosmopolitan city, and Kenya to be
a free, democratic society. Upwardly mobile. Forward thinking. Independent. It
turns out that from what I’ve observed is that it, by and large, is a very
petty place crippled by corruption that trickles from the top down, and
smothered by racial tribalism that's still alive with the 42 tribes here.
The next generation wants
ONE KENYA, ONE TRIBE. It will be there only hope for a brighter tomorrow, for
Kenyans caring for one another, and for a society of empathy. Presently it very
much is a ME FIRST culture where life itself has very little value. People
treat each other with apathy and indifference.
You fall out of the matatu
and get hit by an oncoming car, we probably won’t stop. And if the driver gets
in a wreck, he will run for the hills. And if the police show up, they will
want to be bought off. And if you are a mzungu (white foreigner) in an accident, the police will
threaten you with a trip to the police station and jail unless you pay them
off.
And if you stop at an
accident to help and the police arrive, they will blame it on you as you can
pay the most. And if you actually transport an accident victim in your car to
the hospital, and by chance they die in your car, then you’re responsible for
all their funeral expenses.
It’s a culture that
rewards passivity. Detachment. And the police are feared more than whatever bad
happens.
Case in point: my producer
lorella was on a shoot and her car was burgled while she had some lunch. They
took an iphone, 2 laptops (one a macbook air), a Canon 60D camera body and a
very fast L series f2.8 16-35mm lens. She went to the police to get a report,
called an abstract here. A single page that takes 5 minutes tops to fill out
and be stamped by the policeman. Then she takes the abstract to the insurance
claims man (it was all insured under Slingsot prods.)
Turns out the police man
won’t give her the abstract to file the claim. He sees the claim is for $4000
so he figures if she’s getting paid he should get paid too. So he wants $120 or
no abstract. They negotiate to $100. She gets her abstract. This is how Kenyans
treat each other. What’s in it for me???
She also had the sense the
claims man also will need to be bribed in order for the claim to go through. A
little kitu kidogo. Everyone is on the take, and it’s not just to the mzungu,
it’s to their fellow Kenyans. No empathy. No love.
My Kenyan friend dennis
was robbed on a matatu (local mini-vans used for public transpo) at knife point
for 6 bucks. Really? And there is no law & order here in Kenya. The leaders
are too busy fleecing their own pockets to worry about a police force with
police cars and law enforcement. There is no law or enforcement. People get
carjacked, no big deal. You get held up during a traffic jam by thieves on a
motorcycle, too bad. They get away driving between lanes and you’re stuck,
helpless. There’s a saying here: AFRICA WINS AGAIN. It’s usually said when
something bad happens, and something bad happens a lot.
I remember when I first
arrived I stayed with an American couple from Carolina. Lindy would say in her
thickest Carolina accent “D. Dave, I swear every Kenyan thinks I
have a big “ATM” tattooed on my forehead!” and it’s true for the most part and
here’s why: if you’re a mzungu you’re rich. How else could
you afford to be here?
Probably .001% of all
Kenyans have ever been on a plane. Out of 40 million that’s what, 4000? Barely
10% own a car, if that. The average Kenyan makes $6 - $12 per day. Not per
hour. It is a poor country. People have nothing and thanks to the corrupt govt,
have no infrastructure so they walk in the mud on their way to cramped public
transpo.
Before lorella got a
company car from me, she spent 4 hours a day commuting. Bad roads and terrible
traffic. That’s 20 hours a week just getting to and fro work. So, people have
nothing and if you’re a white person and you’re here, you must have much more
than anyone here has ever imagined. Even if you are a volunteer digging
longdrop outhouses in Kibera, people assume you are rich. Even the govt now is
charging $2400 per year to volunteer here! That’s how much they love their own
people. They we will charge you to come and help, to help their own people.
What a culture.
I was recently at the Lake
Nakuru Lodge. Nice place. During my sundowner in the bar a singing troupe came
through the dining room and bar. Old mama’s and papa’s in matching shirts and
dresses singing beautiful African songs a cappella. The old artist/performer/ musical
theatre producer director in me felt warm fuzzies. They finished and I ended up
chatting to the head honcho. A very nice Kenyan man.
I intentionally spoke life
into him, encouraged him, complimented him on his singing, his troupe, his
shirt. We chatted for awhile, he asked about my Kiswahili, he could tell I’ve
been here for while. I was keen to support the group so I asked about their
CDs. He had 3 CD’s for sale, one was an EP with only 6 songs, and they were all
home-pressed in a plastic sleeve, not a fancy plastic case.
I asked him how much for
all 3. He said $84 USD. Really? I was in shock. They cost about $2 each to
make. Here I thought I was making friends, one old-timer to another. No chance.
I was mzungu. ATM on my forehead. All relationship was illusional. Is that
racist? Economic racism? When they don’t see you? Only your wallet?
I was hurt and disgusted
with the whole thing. Close to 3 years here and I still cannot connect to the
locals. They simply don’t see you as a person, as someone looking for
connection. They see dollars. Not everyone maybe, but pretty much everyone. So
I negotiated, which I hate, because nothing in Kenya has one price. There is no one
price here. With mzungu tax or skin tax, it’s always fluctuating. So we
negotiated…I was willing to pay $12 per CD to support the cause. He still
wanted more like $20 per. I was firm. I got 3 crappy CDs for $36. I went back
to my room and one of the CDs was blank. Africa wins again.
My gardener passed by the
other day to have a talk. Uh oh. It can only be about money. The last gardener
I had was charging me and my landlord for a year. He knicked me for $700. They
finally sacked him. Now Zach needs something.
Zach is sweet, a father of 2,
makes nothing, walks an hour to work each way every day, and he has nothing. He
sits down with me outside in my patio on my corner sofa. On the coffee table is
my iPad and iPhone 5. He has nothing and I have Apple gadgets. He tells me he
needs $60 so his daughter can go to school. She had missed that day. Not that
it was my fault, but he told me anyway. Private schools here are a joke, but
the public schools are a bigger joke. Everyone has their kid in a private school
whether that can afford it or not. So zach needs $60. I don’t know if that’s
for a week, a month, or a semester. But he’s asking.
What can I say? “Sorry
zach, not my problem.”? "I'm too busy on my iPad to help."? He could ask his boss, but my landlord has been here
too long to try and save Africa. But I’m a soft touch. If I can help shouldn’t
I? Depends how long you can save everyone before you’re broke. And if you
believe Africa needs saving. But it’s true, if you’re an expat and you have
house help, they become family and their family becomes your family. And that
means helping to pay for their school, medical, debts, funerals, weddings, and
whatever else pops up.
I couldn’t tell if zach
was asking for a loan or a gift. They all speak very softly, especially when
asking for favors like money. We’ll see. I’m okay either way. What do they say,
don’t lend money you can’t afford to lose?
Overall Kenya has
certainly opened my eyes. i’m not nearly as naïve and innocent. When I landed
in oct 2011 the Kenyan customs man extorted me for $100 to enter with all my
baggage. Did I have permission for all this? Did I have letters of approval?
Lots of bullshit I didn’t have and didn’t know if i really needed. So I was held
hostage because I was mzungu. my cherry was popped.
It was “his turn to eat”,
so he harassed me til I gave in. his $100 was a lot less than the $1400 I paid
in excess baggage to get it there, but it wasn’t a big smile welcoming me to
Africa. It was a hand out, or a hand in my pocket.
I have this picture of a
big friendly Jamaican face smiling and saying “WELCOME TO JAMAICA, MON!” the
caribbean just seems like a happy, friendly place. Not so Kenya. Do not enter.
Pay me. and the customs/immigration people here are the most unfriendly, unwelcoming lot
possible. I hate flying into JKIA. It’s dark and oppressive and unethical,
immoral stuff happens every minute.
I had a Aeron work stool
flown over from LA with my nephew. I sent lorella to pick it up. She’s a 26
year old Kenyan. The baggage man wanted $100 to release it. If you can afford
this you can afford to pay me something. Welcome to Kenya. Or is it all of
Africa?
I’m leaving Kenya in large
part to my work permit situation. I need to pay $4000 (fixer inclusive) for another
2 year permit. for what? there is no work.
Wait a minute, I’m here to
spend money in your economy, employ your people, train your people, and to
build a business that could employ more Kenyans and we all spend more money and
you want $4000 for me to have the privilege of being here? Where I get extorted
at any chance possible? Really?
Plus ever since the ICC
hearings you didn’t want to attend, I get it: you want all westerners out and
want the chinese in. no accountability. No rights to defend, human or
otherwise. And the Jubilee govt demands you hand over your business after 2
years to a Kenyan. All your investment, assets, and passable know-how gone. really?
That’s where Kenya is. And
the bureaucracy is beyond reproach. It takes a year to get a driver’s license.
Really? California has 40 million people..it takes 2 weeks. But you better not
protest or say anything negative because they’ll come after you. There’s no
freedom of speech here. sometimes i'm afraid to even blog about it. fine, deport me. just don't throw me in prison for there is no justice for those poor souls.
You squawk too much, they
put you in jail. Or rub you out. No one is held accountable. Like that $5 billion USD that went missing from the Kenyan treasury last year…oops! It’s truly pathetic.
Greed and corruption. And it starts at the top and goes all the way down to the
insurance claims man. Africa wins again.
I know south Africa is no
picnic. Although for every closed door I’ve faced here I believe there is an
open one in SA. But I know it’s not perfect. The ANC is like a cancer trying to
spoil any progress. But at least in the Western Cape, from what I’ve seen, the
roads are paved, they have more than one lane in each direction, they are
smooth, there are sidewalks, crosswalks, robots (traffic lights), and people smile. things work. Things are maintained.
Most of Kenya looks like nothing has been maintained since the British left. In
fact, Kenya is still mostly colonial, tea and all, but it’s just run by Kenyans
now. And not very well. one look at the roads of a country says it all. it says blatantly who's in charge and what's important to them. kenya leaders could not care less about their own people. it's their turn to eat. will it ever end?
I was standing outside the
Stable the other night waiting for a ride and it hit me that I live here but
there is nothing for me here. Doors
didn’t open on many levels. That’s never happened to me before. I even tamed
Manhattan in my 30’s. Conquered Hollywood on a certain level and made a living
in The Industry. But Kenya? A rather tough nut. Never really felt welcomed and
I’m sure I won’t be missed.
I’ll miss my students who
all became my friends, and I have some good community through the Karen
vineyard church, but will I miss the pot holes? The police checks where you
better kiss ass? The traffic? The lawlessness, the injustice, the corruption,
the ATM on my forehead? Not so much. i have a dinner party to attend tonight across town at 7:30pm but if you're mzungu you're not supposed to drive here after dark. is it safe? will i be carjacked? its certainly stuff you think about. but why?
Cape town may not work
out, but it feels right at the minute and that’s all I can go on. Maybe in 2
years I’ll be a vagabond again, but I do enjoy the expat lifestyle and don’t
see myself living in the States again. There’s lots of countries out there.
Some even embrace people like me.
