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| Likoni side of the ferry |
I'm sure everyone has had a point when they realized things were not what they seemed. Maybe it was something simple - that one damn door that was actually a "pull" rather than a "push." Without a thought, you barreled headfirst into it, much to the amusement of onlookers and passer-bys. Or maybe it was something less tangible - that person you once thought you trusted turned a blind-eye to you in a time of distress, or ratted you out when you stole that last cookie. It could have been personal - you thought you had the confidence to do something; then you realized that that may not be the case.
I think a lot of adaptation is wrought with experiences like this. One moment you've got everything figured out. The world makes sense, the people make sense, the way you act makes sense, your work makes sense, and even your thoughts make sense. A moment later, and you're the object of amusement, both vulnerable and confused.
I think in times like this you learn and reinforce your most valuable lessons.
The first lesson is encapsulated by a methodology I learned from a class I had with a Professor Towns Middleton. The class explored ethnography - the study, most generally, of the lives of others. The role of the ethnographer centers around the notion of a "participant observer." This means that in order to gather credible information, the ethnographer must be both a participant in the experience while simultaneously a careful and omniscient observer and recorder. To work effectively in the field you must balance both roles seamlessly. While most issues stem around the impossibility of an ethnographer acting as a "perfect" observer or participant (accepting that the introduction of a foreign entity invariably skews the actions of the people being studied), the issue of being too much of one or the other also comes into play. Situations when you focus too much upon one at the expense of the other (too much a participant or an observer) normally result in your most baffling, scary, or hilarious predicaments, which has its advantages. However, when the two are correctly balanced, not only are you poised and engaged in the current moment but you are also preparing and arming yourself with knowledge for future experiences. More than anything, understanding and optimizing the balance of these roles helps you to be aware of your surroundings at all times - something that is incredibly important while abroad or in any foreign culture.
The other lesson is that as good as it is to be prepared for anything, sometimes it's alright to be surprised and baffled. If you live always able to ascertain exactly what will happen next, you probably aren't going to learn anything of substance. Scientists rarely learn something when an experiment goes as planned, because normally an experiment going as planned means you've based your expectations upon something already known, and the positive outcome of the experiment simply affirms those methodologies "work." I would wager to guess that whenever something goes catastrophically, unpredictably, and fundamentally wrong in science are when the most famous and transformative discoveries are made, and the greatest deviations made in scientific thought. Likewise, in life, situations that don't turn out as we thought they would provide us with useful insights about the way the world works.
A friend of mine named Kristin helped articulate the benefits of unpredictability in life in an email she sent me. She introduced an idea called a "learning edge." Learning edges are things that we choose to live upon, things that challenge us to expand our thinking and self-confidence. She defines a learning edge, "as an opportunity that will require us to be on the edge of our comfort zone in some way that will result in valuable personal growth or development." She goes on: "As another has written, sometimes being near a learning edge 'may be signaled by feelings of annoyance, anger, anxiety, surprise, confusion, or defensiveness. These reactions are signs that our way of seeing things is being challenged'."
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Burning trash. As an environmental worker,
it's sometimes hard to be a participant-observer. |
One can live upon a learning edge in any facet of life. Likewise, it's probably best that you do: the concept of a learning edge tells us that times of vulnerability and annoyance and confusion are the times when one learns and grows the most. Continuing with the anecdote - it allows expansion along one's learning edges on the outskirts of their comfort zone to points further out along that continuum. It's like you're teetering on the edge of a cliff... and the only way you can save yourself from the fall is to throw as many stones down as fast you can to build out your plateau.
So far this trip has brought plenty of those - situations that challenge my idea of being a successful participant-observer as well as forcing me to live life on learning edges. Last Sunday was certainly one of those times - one moment I'm laughing at the sight of our bed full of women in the back of the pick-up truck, the next I'm lamenting that I was laughing in the first place, fearing that I came across as inconsiderate and rude. Recovering from those feelings of annoyance (with myself) gave me insight into how I should act and hold myself in situations where I lack important context. More generally, challenging myself to speak in Swahili, despite the discomfort and vulnerability that comes with speaking a language you have not mastered, provides ample challenge. This has certainly expanded my comfort in that language. Most recently, my experience with US Embassy terror alerts and terrorist attacks has made me come to terms with my own fears regarding mortality, as well as learn to comfort myself in the times when one feels most alone.
This last week went by in a blur. Chances are I'm getting some of the days wrong, so please excuse me if I speak a little more generally about my experiences this last week... I actually am having trouble remembering what I did on each day!
Last Sunday was pretty well dominated by that experience in the last update, so I won't focus on it any further.
Monday I was back at work trying to piece together my project. I spent most of the day doing research, and stumbled upon some United Nation Environmental Programme books. Thinking that they would help guide my project a bit, I began to read through them. As UNEP books, many concerned environmental sustainability. The one that most intrigued me was a guide called "Taking Steps toward Marine and Coastal Ecosystem-Based Management." Ecosystem-Based Management (EBM) emphasizes the collaborative efforts of communities, scientists, developers, and regional governors to develop policy and incentives that tackle issues from an approach that considers all complexities of a region and the relationship of policy impacts on every part of the economy, society, and environment. The idea really spoke to me... so I ended up reading the entirety of the 90 page proposal book. I'll send you if you you're interested.
Later that day I sat down with Omondi and worked out my first work-plan. While it was certainly a rough outline, it did help to get my thinking down on a page and start to formulate how to focus my efforts. Essentially what I had devised was a sort of capacity building training program. Beach Management Units (BMUs), as I may have said before, were mandated by the Kenyan Ministry of Fisheries Development to make up for shortcomings in Ministry oversight. The Ministry simply did not have the resources to patrol and enforce policy along every kilometer of coastline, despite the fact that many artisanal fishermen were using destructive and unsustainable practices to catch fish. BMUs were formulated to act as a sort of self regional governance program. BMUs have many "suggested" roles (the structure and mandated activities of them are still unclear, but they do have some basic suggestions), among those being enforcement of fair and sustainable fishing practices, weighing and recording of fish, settling fishermen border disputes, reporting violators of pollution laws, and emergency response, a sort of coast guard role. However, many of these BMUs desperately lack the resources to fulfill these roles. I had been working with Captain Andy's to develop a curriculum to teach Beach Management Units and their fishermen the basics of Sea Survival, as well as basic boat maintenance, two areas of vital importance to their functioning, and also important to the development of sustainable fisheries. We set out a work-plan that catered to those needs. I then sent several emails out - one to the Minister of Fisheries, one to the Kenyan Maritime Authority, and one to the US Navy, who has been doing work on sea safety along the Horn of Africa.
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| The pool at the Seafarer's lodge |
That night I went back to the Seafarer's Lodge. It really is a nice place to get away from it all for a few hours. There's a nice pool, and a quiet reading deck with blue and deeply padded wooden chairs. I sat down in one and pulled out a book. I also met a man there named George, who works there. He was happy to inform me that the prices at restaurant on site were not "muzungu prices" and that I could get a meal there for only 20 or 30 shillings more than on the street. He told me to come back and ask for him - he was excited at the prospect of being friends. It seems like a lot of people come and go through that lodge, and hearing that I would be around for the next couple weeks seemed to him a cool opportunity to get to know a visitor on a little deeper level. I told him I would, and then caught a matatu back home.
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| Blurry pic: the reading area at the lodge |
On Tuesday I was caught with a surprise... Jerusa had sent me an email telling me that any project involving fish or animals more generally, would not get funded by FSD. I was stunned - that meant changing and backing away from all of my work I had done... Jerusa stopped by later in the day, and tried to reconcile. She said I could do the project, but the likelihood of funding would be small. She said the founder of FSD was a strict animal rights activist, and she wasn't keen on funding projects that had any bent on animal cruelty. I thanked her and sat down to do some more research. A little upset, I decided to send an email out to San Francisco asking for some more details. Regardless of the implications to animal cruelty, isn't food still a fundamental part of development? To ignore it would be to ignore a fundamental roadblock in the development of Kenya, as well as East Africa more generally.
Early Wednesday morning I woke up and traveled to the Kenyan Maritime Authority to meet with the Director of KMA. KMA is in a huge white building on the way to the port, which is right near my residence. I alighted from matatu on the way, and walked up to the 4 story concrete building.
I found out when I got there the director was actually out of the office, so they had me meet with the Director of Maritime Safety. He wore glasses high up on his nose, and was an engineer as well, something that he felt obliged to tell me multiple times throughout our talk. He was a soft spoken man. While I enjoyed getting the chance to talk with him, and we had a good discussion concerning my project, it did raise some concerns. At the time my project was centered almost entirely on sea safety, especially after I had had to alter it from my initial "fishing capacity building" theme to something that avoided the subject of animals entirely. He seemed adamant that the need was not there, and was sure that the US Navy Civil Affairs arm would do it's job and provide safety training to all 19 BMUs along the coast. I walked out nearly agreeing with him.
When I returned to the office I emailed Captain Andy's and told them to hold off on the training... I thought that I would have to completely retool my project. Later my director, who I had copied on the email, sent me one back, forcing me to reconsider what I thought was now a failed effort:
"While it is true and helpful that the US Navy will provide the requisite sea safety training, I think home-grown efforts like those of Captain Andy's, Fisheries', KMA's and Eco Ethic's are still needed - not only to complement but also sustain those efforts once the US Navy training comes to a close."
He also emphasized the importance of engine and boat maintenance training, something I had neglected. I spent the rest of the work day thinking and reworking my focus.
I left work a little early that day. Not only did I need some time to think, I was planning to meet Steve's friend Helen and her friends up in Nyali. I took a Nyali reef matatu and jumped out at the Nyali International Beach Hotel. She had told me to meet them out at the "Aqua Bar" and I was pointed there by the guards at the gate.
The Aqua Bar consisted of a thatch gazebo with a bar in the middle. The ground was sand and people shuffled around in bare feet as they sipped their beers and liquor. Out on the beach, only a short stone throw away, it was just turning to dusk, and there was a group playing rugby and beach volleyball. I scanned the groups frantically for friendly eyes, hoping I would catch Helen's. I knew no one there, and while they were all Muzungus, as I had guessed, my guess on the crowd's age was grossly incorrect... all the people there were in their late 20's, 30's, or even 40's, making me definitely the youngest one. I tried my best to act mature. I set my bag down and walked up to the bar. As I eyed the faces awkwardly I decided to order a beer to look more comfortable. As I waited for the bartender, I glanced nervously at my cell phone, and tried to look important as I frantically jabbed a few keys to send a text message to myself.
There was a man sitting at the bar next to me - he looked pretty young, and I decided it was time to take a chance. I introduced myself and soon we were in conversation. He was from Lichtenstein and was working for a safari company here in Mombasa. God I'm trying my best to remember his name... I think it was Gio. At the least it was an interesting name, and that one will suffice for now. After our short conversation I had a little more confidence. I ventured down to the water where the group was playing rugby. When I walked up they stopped.
"Yo can I play?"
The oldest women, probably around 40 looked at me. "Wait is your name Scott?" she bellowed in a thick English accent.
"Yes," I laughed.
"Oh Hello! Hi Scott! I'm Helen! Great to have ya here!"
I sighed in relief having finally found her. I then proceeded to play rugby with the group of 30 and 40 year old "Kenyan Cowboys" (as I was later told they were called). I knew nothing of the game, but when I had the ball, I assumed it was like football. We were on the beach and the footing wasn't great, but I still managed to earn their respect with a few run backs. It was pretty easy to juke them, so I held back a bit so that I didn't seem like a ball hog.
It finally got dark, and we had to quit playing. As we walked back up the sand to the bar, I met another American named Randy. He was from San Diego, and had been living in Mombasa for 4 years. He said he liked the pace of life here. Seeing him at the bar, barefoot in his swimsuit and sopping wet shirt seemed to give an indication what that "pace" was. He said he actually works for an American company. He had been to Eastern Africa once before, and when he got the chance to work here, he volunteered. At the time he was ready to taste something new, and Africa whetted that appetite.
We went back to the Aqua Bar, and a guy there, another Kenyan Cowboy, a thick man at around 6'5" saw me and Randy and bought us both a few beers. We started talking. He sells door locks all throughout Africa. He laughed heartily after he told me that, and so did Randy. I smiled. Trying to make conversation, I told him that it probably wasn't such a bad business to be in in Africa. To that came another steady stream of (drunken) laughter from the giant man.
I traveled around the bar, growing confidence. After a short while everyone got hungry, so the crowd packed up and we left for dinner. Randy offered to get me a ride to the place, an Indian Restaurant called something funny (something like Phudhaba Dhaba) near the Nyali Cinemax. We hopped in the car, and his driver took us over to the restaurant.
When we got there we got a large table. About 8 of us sat down. I sat next to Gio again, and Randy sat across from me. Next to Randy sat a guy named Edmund, a guy with tufts of salty bleach blonde hair - he was an avid surfer and wind-surfer. He was also around my age, in his second year of a Naval Architecture degree. The guy who sat next to me was a man named Michael. While I hadn't had a great impression of him at first, it seemed he was very confrontational, I warmed up to him, and I began to like his bratty and conceited comments. I found out he had recently graduated as a Mechanical Engineer, which was a cool similarity. He cussed incessantly, but I grew to appreciate that as well. As some may know, I don't mind cussing too much either, and so we had fun cussing at each other. At the end of the table sat two other men and two women, two were named Paul and Annie, and the others I can't remember. They were funny too, especially Paul. He had been to America a few times, and he talked about his "culture-shock" experiences there, as well as his travels in New Zealand.
We had some great conversation - the kind of stuff I love to talk about. Among many subjects, we bounced from base-jumping, bungee jumping, wind-surfing, surfing, water-skiing, travel, and A&W Root Beer. I tried to describe what root beer was to the British and Kenyans at the table. I struggled, and "it's made from molasses" didn't quite cut it for me. Instead I and settled on, "It's like Dr. Pepper, but it's slightly different. Like it's not 27 different flavors, it's more like... a few different flavors." Of course it didn't suffice, but it got a few laughs from the table. It was fun to laugh and joke and feel more comfortable with them, and I did my best to force myself to come out of the shell I had had when I first walked in at the Aqua Bar. It really was a great group, and I loved the chance to hang out with them. I'll definitely be back this week. After dinner I took a tuk-tuk back over Nyali Bridge to my home.
On Thursday I woke up to see a brilliant email. Adam Eads, one of the guys at FSD in San Francisco, wrote me back telling me that FSD was now accepting animal related projects - the women who had founded FSD had since left, and the policy had since been phased out. I ran to my supervisor. I was so relieved, and happy to finally get back to what I had hoped I could work on. We spent most of that day brainstorming how else to tailor a curriculum to the needs of the fishermen. After making some calls, we did a more thorough assesment of the assets of each of the BMUs I was considering - Mwaepe, Chale, and Muvuleni. After spending most of the day deliberating, I decided that I needed to reach a decision - I was planning on meeting with the Provincial Director of Fisheries the next morning, and I wanted to have the outline of my proposal set in stone. I decided to send Captain Andy's another email that day summarizing my conclusions. This new curriculum would provide a basic sea survival course to complement those trainings already done by the US Navy, as well as basic engine maintenance skills, and an introduction to fiberglass boat repair. For lunch I went to meet some of the new FSD interns, and then went back to work. I came back home late and fell asleep early.
Friday morning I stopped at work, and then traveled to the Ministry of Fisheries to speak with the Provincial Director. He's a quirky old man - this the same guy who answered his phone multiple times during his speech a few weeks ago. When I got there however, he quickly made a point he would be giving me his full attention, silencing his cell phone and pointing me to a seat near his desk. I gave him the outline of my plan, and he quickly approved, smiling and chuckling to himself. He gave me some recommendations for funding, and also said he would help out by doing an assessment of the remaining BMUs to determine their access to motors and fiberglass boats. We also spoke about the US Navy's role in promoting sea safety with BMUs. Unlike the KMA's Director of Safety, he felt that the trainings were sporadic and unreliable. He agreed with Okeyo that something grassroots needed to be done, since the US Navy gave him very little information concerning their whereabouts and future plans. For Navy, and from a security standpoint, it made sense to me, but I also understood his frustration. He acknowledged that at times he felt their role seemed more of a form of advertisement rather than focused and deliberate help.
After leaving I went back to tell Omondi the news. My talk with the director again renewed my vigor for the project, and I was excited to get started on the grant that weekend.
Later in the day I met at the FSD office again for our weekly reflections. We began to talk about grant writing, and I found it particularly interesting, as I had already begun to encounter many of the dilemmas that face grant writers. However, it also gave me some confidence - I felt my project had evolved out of careful thought and tedious wok. I had acquired a substantial amount of data and sources, and so writing it would be no problem. I was most worried about staying within the bounds of our 12 page limit.
That night I went to Nakumatt to peruse the shelves, and then met Ndiema and his wife at his office. They took me out to dinner for chicken and chips, and then offered to have me sleep over at their house in Likoni. I agreed. We drove Ndiema's car over the ferry, a white Probox, what many describe as "the car made for Africa." It's a bare bones utility vehicle, like a subaru but without the frills (and to think a subaru has frills!). Literally, it's all that's needed to drive, and nothing more. There's a speedomoter, odomoter, and fuel gauge. It's a five seater car with two airbags. The back seats are sittable, but certainly not for any extended period of time. As Ndiema would say... "welcome to Africa."
When we got back to their house, I noticed people still standing outside the late woman's home. We drove by with a wave and closed the gate behind us when we reached the house. There Ndiema put in a personal favorite of his, the South African comedy "The Gods Must be Crazy." It's classic slapstick comedy with a safari twist, and I really enjoyed it.
The next morning I went with Ndiema, his wife, and the late women's husband to church. I actually never made it to church though... Ndiema wanted me to run some business with him (he really just wanted some company) and the whole ordeal took a couple hours. By the end I had missed the greater part of the service, and I decided to go meet up with friends instead, some other interns. We got lunch and then went to book a two-day safari for a couple weekends from now. Afterwards we went to take a tour of Fort Jesus, a Portuguese then Muslim fort shrouded in the history of slavery. While I had toured around the outside, we hoped to go in. However, Muzungu price is exorbitant, and we didn't have our volunteer cards. To get in as a tourist (read: muzungu) is 800 shillings. To get in as a citizen is 100 shillings. We decided to come back when we had our volunteer cards, the price being much cheaper.
We split up after that. I took a nap.
I ate dinner and then got dressed to leave. I had spoken with a coworker earlier in the week, and he had wanted to take me out with some of his friends. As I walked out I glanced at the news as they announced a US citizen Travel Alert. Not thinking much of it I headed out to meet him near Posta (the post office) in the middle of town.
At Posta I met up with my coworker Bunnett and several of his friends. We walked across the street and then turned off the sidewalk onto a stairway that led us up to a nightclub they liked. It was called Base. It was a nice club, and had pool tables, TVs and plenty of chairs and booths. Everyone was sitting down to watch Euro-Cup, so we sat and watched Spain vs. France as the music picked up. It was really fun hanging out with him, and I got to talking with his friend Eric. We talked about many things... including Obama, polygamy, and Kenyan work culture. At the end of the night, he and all is friends crammed in a tuktuk with me to make sure I got back safely.
That night I began to look into the US Travel Alert a little more in depth. The US had sent an alert earlier that day to all it's workers and citizens currently in Kenya warning of an imminent terrorist attack in Mombasa. While Kenya was upset, the politicians squawking about "tourism sabotage" and complaining about what a poor ally the United States is, having the audacity to call a travel advisory without alerting Kenya, the US continue to act, pulling all government workers and halting all government travel through Mombasa till July 1st.
I stayed up late that night, and began to feel a little lonely. I had that sinking feeling as I reread the headlines again and again. "Wait." I kept saying it to myself. "That's where I am right now."
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| Basketball outside our apartment |
Sunday I stayed in and read. They (FSD) had given us some curfews, and while I didn't have to stay in all day, I had to work on my grant and I was into my book (
Escape from Camp 14, please read it, I was told by the friend that gave it to me that everyone should read this book, and after reading it, I readily agree) so I stayed in, caught up on sleep, worked, and read. There was also a large basketball tournament going on outside of our apartment. It was entertaining to watch them play a little street ball. I've been meaning to play with them, but I keep getting back too late... maybe this week I'll have some time. Late that night came reports of a grenade attack at a bar outside of town, and quickly the skepticism accompanying the talk of "tourism sabotage" ceased.
Quite frankly, I understand why the United States would not be quick to share information with the Kenyan government. The politicians here are too prideful to admit that there's been any kind of thing that has slipped under their radar, which is in itself a dangerous attitude. That or a prior alert would have simply created two competing anti-terrorism investigations. The United States has been following many of these leads for years, and a hastily assembled Kenyan investigation would do nothing but thwart some of those efforts. However, I also sympathize with the Kenyans - it certainly wasn't fair as an ally to skewer a tourist industry which happens to sustain the livelihood of a majority of people in the coast province. The United States competing claim however, is it would probably be best to have a terror alert go out, and then an attack actually happen, then for the alert to be suppressed for fear of killing tourism, and then the attack happen without an alert. In the long term, if tourists feel they can trust the guidance of their embassies, they will probably be more likely to visit the city. I will keep you updated on how this goes, but for now, I'm just being careful, and not staying out too late while avoiding crowded public areas. For now it seems like the attack was carried out by a boy hired by Al-Shabbab, a Somali terrorist group with links to Al-Qaeda. Kenya has been invading Somolia for the last few months (or years) and has virtually eliminated Al-Shabbab influence. However, Iran has had links with Al-Shabbab, and officials thwarted an attack earlier this week by arresting two Iranians in Nairobi. They then led officials to a car in Mombasa that was loaded with explosive materials - enough to level a 5 story building. Earlier in the week, officials also traced a cargo container from Iran that was suspected to be carrying explosive materials as well. If you're curious, you can read more about the lead up
here.
Today I didn't think much of the threats - I made it to work alright and got to work on my grant. I also had met with the Director of KMA as well as the Director of Safety. They provided some help, however, I was a little appalled by how little they knew about the issues of safety facing BMUs. Being the maritime authority, I assumed it was their job to keep track of those things... but especially in Kenyan government, things are never what they seem.
Now I'm just hangin' out at the TV, reading
A Confederacy of Dunces, and finishing the rest of this post... I apologize if it's not quite as refined as my others... my thoughts have been in a lot of places lately, but hopefully I'll clean it up with some subsequent updates.
For now, all is fine, and I'm doing my best to stay safe. I stopped by the Seafarer's lodge again today after hanging out with some coworkers after work, and I enjoyed having some time to myself, away from work, my host family, and the other interns. Today we also had a new addition to the Eco-ethics team - another FSD intern from Connecticut named Liby, who actually goes to school in Scotland. She's got a good sense of humor, so I think we will get along just fine. I also got a message from Dutch - she'll be back this Friday, and she wants me to meet her kids. After all the time I've spent conversing with the Kenyan Cowboys, I'm sure I'll be just fine talking to her 40 and 50 year old "kids."
I also apologize... I haven't taken many photos lately. I'll do my best to get some more soon!
In the face of terrorism.... Keep calm and party on,
Scotty
