Africa Expat Wives Club

Real Life Beckons....Going back to work

2012-05-17T13:44:00.000+03:00

These intermittent posts are all related to our house build, however I am aware that life continues beyond the banging and the shifting walls of ours.

(*Okay, I can’t help it. Right now they are doing the roof. I am fully expecting the leg of a builder to appear through the roof above my head any minute now. The ceiling boards are shifting – I feel like I am on the set of Alien or some horror movie. A minute ago there was the most almighty crash – do I have an ambulance number handy?!).

Nonetheless, I do know that last weekend EU forces were strafing pirate strongholds along the Somali coast (that ratchets things up in our area a notch or two). That a grenade was thrown outside a Mombasa nightclub on Monday night, killing a security guard. That Greece has failed to form a coalition government and is now on the brink of being forced out of the Euro – and this uncertainty is causing ripples in financial markets all over Europe. I know that police are pressing charges against Rebecka Brooks accused of perverting the course of justice, hiding evidence of the NoW phone hacking case. I know that Sarkozy is out and Francois Hollande is in – and that Hollande’s plane was struck by lightning when he headed off on his first day of office to meet with Angela Merkel (to discuss austerity). Meanwhile, I know that Kenyan MPs have just proposed a bill to give them absurdly big payouts at the end of their term of office (K Sh 3.7 million) – and Raila Odinga (PM) has denounced the move by MPs as unconstitutional. And that Kenya might have more oil than was once thought.

(I also know that Danni Minogue had an affair with Simon Cowell so has split with her dishy boyfriend (the silly fool) and Jessica Simpson finally had a baby after the longest pregnancy ever.)

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Women considering going back to work - scary

So anyway – on an entirely new subject – I wanted to write about Mums of a certain age (like me), facing the yawning prospect of going back to work.

For the past few years I’ve been gradually building up to getting back into the work market (ie by online re-training, working for free, networking, researching, trying to write a blooming book etc), after a horrendous absence from paid employment of, oooh, I’m ashamed to say, at least 12 years!

How spoiled I’ve been! But I’m not alone. I know that there are lots of (expat) wives and mothers who see that their kids are growing up fast and would now like to dip their toe back into the job market to earn some extra cash. This topic is currently a discussion ‘du jour’ at most get togethers – but how best to make it work? Having been out of the job market for so long, we tend to want it all on our own terms. (i.e. not full time, hours that suit school holidays etc etc)

I’ve nothing but the highest respect for women who have managed to sustain a full time career throughout their children’s childhoods. Heck, since life at home with small children has quietened down, I’m even in awe of the fact that my husband has been working full time without a break for the past 20 years! But in the case of mothers, I think that their achievement is incredible. You read about clever, multi-tasking people in magazines – running their own businesses, mothers of four children, juggling constantly, managing high levels of stress - now I’m meeting quite a few examples through working part-time and I’ll be honest, they are intimidating.

I’ve noticed that women in the work place who are also parents are; tough, focused and no nonsense – they get their job done with a minimum of fuss and definitely no dithering. At first I thought that going back to work would be impossible, however I’ve been lucky. I work freelance so can dictate my own hours and recently work has been flowing in. I can just about cobble together a smart-ish outfit for the odd office meeting – but last week, when the idea of a business trip was mooted I tried not to let my face show that I was falling apart inside – it wasn’t the idea of deploying the school runs that worried me but rather; what on earth would I wear?!?

When considering going back to work, one stumbling block in Kenya is the obligatory permit required to undertake any kind of work here. Permits are costly so it helps to know that you are capable of earning enough to justify the expense. Plunging into full time work seems terrifying but a couple of friends of mine have done it recently, and after a period of some adjustment – they seem to be surviving.

I am sure it is important for our mental health to work – whether on a voluntary basis or paid, from Open University studying to selling. Otherwise the inevitable mid-life crises beckon – for men it is facial hair, long hair and marathons – for women it is the lure of the triathlon/iron man competitions, golf, cosmetic surgery, adult braces (I’ll tell you about that one later!)

The house is taking shape!

2012-05-15T11:57:00.002+03:00

The trees are still standing. Note the wobbly/homemade ladder.

looking forward to having coffee on the balcony off our new bedroom

old kitchen downstairs, new one on the left seems huge and caverous

The house/palazzo is taking shape, very exciting! Enormous crashes and bangs going on around my ears as I type - but no death or injury yet?! (We are all getting good at scaling up wobbly ladders that don't look to be able to stand our weight).

Home renovation work in Kenya - and the rain keeps on falling

2012-05-08T18:12:00.005+03:00

I think that it is fair to say that we are currently living 'in extremis'.

Persistent Rain in Kenya - readers currently experiencing flooding in UK can sympathise!

As I sat working on my computer this morning, in the small room which is now doubling up as one daughter's garret style bedroom, while needing a wee fairly desperately after my second cup of coffee – I wondered where on earth I might go to the loo.

I had already headed out to a 7am exercise class, expressly for the purpose of having access to a hot shower afterwards and being able to wash my hair. The exercise wasn’t much fun, but it was worth it for the plentiful hot water. As of today, the whole family will have to don raincoats and wellies in order to get a hot bath in our guest room, that is now no longer linked to the rest of the house. It rains daily on or around 3pm - almost like clockwork.

Since getting back from school, our eldest daughter says it's okay - "it's like pretending we are in the olden days."

"I think we might be at the most difficult point of the build," my husband said down the phone from the comparative comfort of his office. "You must make sure that they get that loo under the stairs working."
I stifled a response.

Our difficult loo situation at home was exacerbated by the fact that one downstairs bathroom was, at that moment, having its septic tank pipes cleared (blocked again through heavy use by the whole family, plus the usual tree root problem) and the one other loo option had no running water. I'm also still rather dubious about the temporary corrugated iron manhole cover that has been placed over the re-routed waste pipe, right next to where the builders are working.

I crossed my legs and thought about whether to go shopping – just to use the shopping centre loo. Then I thought about the time a few weeks ago, when after a 7 hour drive back from our Easter weekend – my husband retreated to the ‘wrong’ loo – where the waste pipe at that moment was sticking out, exposed, into the newly laid foundations. The memory of that night time fall-out (or should I say clear up) doesn’t bear thinking about.

In the past few weeks we have had record rainfall (it was predicted to be low). The thunderstorms have been spectacular. Water has been pouring in through the open roof and in through all sorts of nooks and crannies, many that we had no previous idea about.

Critically, rain water has been running over the newly installed and upgraded electrical distribution board. My husband got a major electric shock on Sunday, while trying to flip a fuse causing smoke and sparks to appear. We are both learning more than we ever wanted to know about electrics (much of our house still has 1930s wiring with cotton insulation apparently) and plumbing – and building in general. Oh and we’ve run out of buckets. All buckets are employed in water collection. Buckets are a precious commodity in this house!

On the radio this morning, news played out that a 4 storey building in Westlands (central Nairobi) that was under construction, had collapsed. Fortunately no one was hurt. I wondered briefly if our house would withstand an earthquake, then I quickly switched channel.

The Asian foreman made an interesting discovery during the demolition phase of the build. 3 boxes of large American Weatherby magnum ammunition - brass bullets for hunting circa 1950/60, were hidden under our old bath - wrapped in a plastic bag and in pristine condition. On the boxes is the image of an elephant. The Asian foreman was extremely worried that they belonged to us.

“Very dangerous”– he kept repeating.
"Not ours" I said repeatedly. We were nodding and shaking our heads at each other furiously.

The Weatherby 'elephant' bullets found under the bath

My husband meanwhile was beyond excited. We wondered if they had been hidden under the bath at some point after Kenya’s ‘Emergency’. My husband searched for similar ones on Ebay immediately.

“Wonder if we’ll find the rifle next?” he asked hopefully.

Sadly, we've found nothing more exciting than a bat skeleton in the old, disused chimney and a dead rat or two have appeared. The dogs look miserable. The rest of the family have lost their minds and out-voted me in the decision to buy a puppy (not due to move in until July fortunately!).

But I can’t complain. A palazzo is taking shape around us at top speed. Hidden in amongst the difficult cash flow decisions, constant power outages, site meetings, mud, wellies and my trying to meet deadlines and get some work done, amid all the madness – there are glimmers of what the house promises be like at the end.

And every time the 25 builders get soaked in yet another daily rain storm – I feel so sorry.

And when I see the watchman patrolling at night and stop him at around 9pm to chat and give him his bread and milk - and then say “sorry for the rain.”

When he replies, “it’s okay Madam. Let it rain – it’s very good for us.”

Then my heart bleeds.

So I absolutely can’t complain at all.

(p.s. I just emailed the bathroom fitting supplier thinking it was my husband I was writing to - and signed off with two kisses. (The bathroom fittings guy is about 23 and a bit shy) Only realised my mistake when the reply came back - I think my wheels are definitely falling off!).

Corners of old Nairobi

2012-04-24T20:03:00.003+03:00

I was driving toward Upper Hill on a bit of a muddy track/rat run because, as usual - traffic was horrendous and I was in a hurry - when I drove past this old house...

I couldn't resist taking a closer look.

Look at the threatening crane overhead - not sure how much longer this house will be left standing!

It looks like it could be in Surrey if it weren't for the bougainvillea around the balcony and the two beautiful palm trees behind. There were holes in the roof - a bit like our house then! I think that it's such a shame that these old buildings are not listed here.

Earth Tremor in Nairobi and .. 'the house is falling down'

2012-04-17T12:52:00.000+03:00

Woke up this morning at 5 am to the sound of everything shaking. It felt like it went on for ever.
Rattle, rattle, rattle, rattle, rattle. The mirror on our dressing table, the windows, the doors.

I saw the shadowy profile of my husband. He was awake, head off the pillow - ear cocked at the sound.
"what's that, an earthquake?" I asked, frankly frightened. "I wonder if the house will fall down?!"
My question might seem like a bit of an over-reaction - but perhaps not if you see exactly what it looks like at the moment....

Our house today

As you can see, there's actually not much house left.

At 5am, I wondered if bits of roof might fall on children's heads. We currently are squeezed up together and actually living in the house while this is going on. And it's rainy season. We've had some fabulous thunder storms.

When the tremor was over, I thought about how terrifying earthquakes must really be - my thoughts flicked to Japan a year ago.

Later this morning we learned that the reason for the tremor in Nairobi this morning was due to a magnitude 4.9 earthquake some 5,000kms off shore in the Indian Ocean 3 hours earlier.

However, back to the house. Having been musing over the idea of building a 2 storey extension to the house for the past 5 years - once we actually said 'go' (the plans were ready, city council approval etc) we were suddenly flung into chaos. The build (or rather demolition first, then build later) is moving forward with terrifying speed.

stone cutting - the lawn is history

Unlike back home (UK) where you might have two or three builders working on a job like this - we have approx 25-30 people swarming all over the place. Hand cutting stones to size, building walls, organising plumbing - then there are the obligatory groups of people chatting casually, sleeping on the grass etc. Wherever you look, there's a collection of faces on the other side of the window. The two Indian foreman speak a little English and a little Swahili - but not that much of either - so we are experiencing a little communication break-down here and there - but muddling through with sign language etc. Not that I am complaining. It's incredible.

We moved out of our bathroom, two bedrooms our kitchen and dining room. It was like moving house. Bags and bags and bags of rubbish have been thrown out. (this was done during the hottest last weeks in March).

part of our temporary kitchen (outdoor)

Everything inside the house is now covered in dust - I have a slight choking feeling in the back of my throat as I type. Every now and then there is the most terrifying crash, interspersed with relentless banging. I had to laugh when, the other day, some workmen stood on one another's shoulders to get into our roof rather than use a ladder. There is a distinct lack of hard-hats on site - and many large stones being thrown down from the second floor to the ground, from a significant height.

Fortunately the original house was extremely well built in 1937 with proper foundations, so it seems to be able to withstand this onslaught (earth tremors notwithstanding). You may be forgiven for assuming that all houses should be well built with proper foundations - but in fact they are not. A friend took the roof off their guest house down the road recently, and as a result, the 4 walls fell in - re-roofing became a total re-build job.

We were lucky enough to find out when the daughter of the original owner/builder of our house visited us, (click here to link to previous post: 'Our 1930s House') that her father was a British engineer and fastidious at that. "You need never worry about this house" she said, "it's strongly built".

circa 1937, original foundations being built

It should be exciting but I feel guilty about putting the old house under such strain and wonder constantly if it isn't horribly self indulgent to want a new family style kitchen and master bedroom with bathroom en suite (yes). I've decided that I'm absolutely hopeless at 'grown-up' decision making and would far rather bury my head in the sand as regards - property, oh and and preferably children's schooling too...

Oh yes, and the neighbours are now building too - they have cut at least 20 trees over the past 3 weeks. Cue yet more crashing and cutting machines. Not really a spectator sport!

Our neighbour's plot

"Well, my life just carried on.." Russell Brand, when asked why he wanted to write a second book

2012-03-14T21:11:00.002+03:00

Life carries on

Here's a little glimpse of how life in Nairobi is 'going on' - as usual were are 'going on pretty well' thank you,.. except for the fact that it is...

Hot and dry

It's hot, hot, hot. I don't remember it ever being this sweltering in Nairobi. Thank goodness that it is a dry heat. The earth is cracked, parched dry. There's not a cloud in the sky. My lovely new (christmas present) phone (that I'm still having problems operating - my kids are better at it than me!) tells me that it is going to be between 88 and 90 degrees every day this week. Phew! My little office in the eaves of the house is causing steam to appear from my ears. My middle daughter just handed me a portable, battery operated fan that I think dates back to our days of living in Dar es Salaam.

And we have Comms Failure

We've had a problem with communicating with each other and the outside world this week. The internet has either been down, or slow and emails stalled in a million outboxes all over the region. Why? This is a good one!: - a month ago, a ship in Mombasa that was illegally parked, dropped anchor onto submarine fibre optic broad cables - cutting the lines and affecting comms in 4 different countries! I think that a 'rescue' eMarine tech boat has now arrived at the port and they are undertaking repairs - which is causing further disruption.

"the cut occurred when a ship that was docking, dragged its anchor on the cable, four kilometres from the Mombasa landing station on Saturday, affecting a significant proportion of the international fibre capacity in and out of the country."

Click here to read more

In the meantime, local phone providers have had to re-route via other cables and use satellite links - which has been costing them a fortune.

Does this explain why Airtel are sending me notification of missed calls (with accompanying adverts) via SMS and calling me up with pre-recorded advertising messages - or is this more to do with the fact that they made calls so cheap during their price war (calls currently cost 1-3 shillings per minute!) - that they are now trying to claw some revenue back? (pole sana)

And Building Work Imminent

We've been planning building work on this house for a gazillion years. Now that we have all the permissions, plans, estimates and quotes - we finally met up with the contractor who was absolutely horrified that we intend to stay in the house while work is carried out. Now call me old fashioned, but this is the English way to do things. Live in the dust and dirt - dig down to find the kettle to make some builder's tea. I'll give you an example. My sister-in-law had her 3 children sleeping in a row on the dining room floor a couple of years ago while her house was torn to pieces, then put back together again. Situation normal.

Not so in Kenya. Since the building boom began, everyone's expectations seem to have gone up - including the contractor's (and ours - otherwise we wouldn't bother modernising our house!). More used to building 15 luxury town houses in one go - the thought of us 5 paddling round the property in amongst 25-30 builders is turning everyone cold from the architect to the foreman. I have to admit that I too am now nervous...

The proposal is to completely screen off two ends of the house with corrugated iron - leaving us to live in the dust cloud middle bit that remains.. which crucially does not include a kitchen (of course a new kitchen is my priority!). I am now desperately thinking of alternatives for cooking for 5 for no less than 4 months. Am thinking of relocating the kitchen into the garage somehow. I thought of a 'bush kitchen' tent type of set up for 5 minutes, then realised that we're supposed to be heading into the long rains! Ideas on a postcard please.
We start in 2 weeks. There goes Easter..we'll be packing up boxes. What sort of a mess are we getting ourselves into?

Oh yes, and Fire

Last night my eldest called me to her bedroom window.
"There's a really big fire at the bottom of the garden"
I didn't come straight away. 'Whatever?' I thought. 'probably a bonfire - but it is tinderbox dry out there, so possibly an ill advised bonfire.'
"No Mum, it's really big!"
Interest piqued, I strolled over. Yes, the flames were leaping rather high, but I knew that there were no houses nearby, so it wasn't too deadly.

To give you some background, we sold a bit of land on our property ages/years ago (too soon as it turned out, - the price of land has quadrupled since then) and the area has only just been cordoned off for building this year. There's a large corrugated iron fence across the bottom of what was our garden and a private security company has been employed to station a guard on site every night.

While I was vaguely peeping through the curtain, I gather from reports that came in this morning - that in fact all hell was breaking loose in the staff quarters behind our house last night.

Gladys, who lives on our plot was wondering why somebody was banging so hard on the metal (mbati) fence. - She thought someone was stealing the iron sheets so decided to stay indoors. Meanwhile Jared, who also lives on our plot was frantically/heroically trying to help the nightwatchman who was stationed on the other side (with no water or tap whatsoever), handing buckets of water over the 12 foot fence (the mind boggles - Jared is not tall)

After testing my daughter on her history topic (The Crusades), then wandering off back to my computer to browse through the gossip column on the right hand side of Daily Mail online (guilty pleasure - except I hardly know who all these UK celebrities are these days) - she called me back again.

"Mum, there's a fire engine in our garden now"
"Oh" I said, thinking - now this is hard to believe. But sure enough, there were the blue flashing lights.

I wasn't too concerned. Everyone seemed to have got the situation under control, the flames abated and it was somewhat reassuring to know that functioning fire engines (albeit privately operated ones) with actual water on board do exist and can be called out in an emergency.

To put this into context - to see a previous post on a bungled fire fighting experience that appeared on Kenyan news. Click here

In fact, having done the relocation guide - I learn that there are good emergency services (at a price) the trick is knowing how to figure out where to find phone numbers and who to call.

As I'm feeling helpful - I put a few here and late will post some more useful info on the 'page' tabs above.

Emergency Phone Numbers for Nairobi

Ambulance

AMREF (Flying Doctors) http://www.amref.org/ 020-315454/600090. Cell: 0722 314239/0733 639088

Africa Air Rescue (AAR) http://www.aarhealth.com/ 020-2717374/5/6. Cell: 0722 314394/0733 636617

St John’s Ambulance www.orderofstjohn.org/kenya 020-222396/224066

Emergency plus Medical Services E-Plus (Subsidiary of Kenya Red Cross) http://www.eplus.co.ke/ .
020-2655251/2/3. Cell: 0700 395395. Or dial 395 from landline or cell phone

Fire

Nairobi Fire Department 020-222181/2/3. 020-335060/999

KK Security (fire engine and ambulance) http://www.kksecurity.com/ 020-4245000/4445090. Cell: 0734 622226

Ultimate Security (fire engine and ambulance) http://www.ultimate-security.net/. 020-3875475/95.
Cell: 0733 778410/0722 725310

Hospitals

Nairobi Hospital, Argwings Kodhek Road hosp@nbihosp.org 020-2845000/2846000/2722160.
Cell: 0722 204114/0733 639301 (also a new, fully equipped satellite on 2nd floor Galleria Mall, Langata)

Aga Khan Hospital, 3rd Parklands Avenue akhn@akhskenya.org 020-3662000/020-3740000

Gertrude’s Garden Children’s Hospital, Muthaiga http://www.gerties.org/ 020-7206000/3763474.
Cell: 0733 639444/0722 898948

MP Shah Hospital http://www.mpshahhosp.org/ 020-3742763/4/5/6

Police

The Kenya police Control Room (254-20) 2714995/2724154. Cell: 0729 100712/999

Central Police 020-222 222

Well, I think that's all for now...

Masai cricket - loving the photography!

2012-03-13T21:07:00.003+03:00

Meet the Maasai Cricket Warriors: The colourful semi-nomadic cattle herders promising to brighten up the sport

By Lee Moran click here for: link to original article

PUBLISHED: 13:38 GMT, 13 March 2012

These are the Maasai Cricket Warriors - the semi-nomadic cattle herders vowing to brighten up their sport.

Ditching traditional whites for their colourful clothing and body decorations, the Kenyan tribesmen are in serious training.

Donning pads and armed with bats, the men from the Laikipia region this week left their tiny village for the Mombasa Legends Cricket Nursery.

Colourful: These are the Maasai Cricket Warriors - the semi-nomadic cattle herders vowing to brighten up their sport

Out there: They ditch traditional whites for colourful clothing and body decorations

Beach time: The players are aiming to be role models in their communities where they are actively campaigning against Female Genital Mutilation, early childhood marriages and are fighting for the rights of women

They now hope to travel to the Last Man Standing 2012 World Championships in Cape Town next month - the crowning event of the global eight-a-side amateur Twenty20 cricket league.

The players say they want to be role models in their communities by campaigning against traditional female circumcision and child marriages.

And through their cricket they also try to promote healthier lifestyles and spread awareness about HIV/AIDS among tribal youth, they added.

An online appeal for donations on the Maasai Cricket Warriors website said: 'By developing cricket and sports amongst Maasai youth and children the aim is to empower the youth in Maasai communities while enhancing their participation in community development, allowing them to become healthy, productive and well-adjusted members of society.'

How would this kit go down at Lords? A batsman shows off his sportswear

Inspirational: Through playing cricket in regional communities they are trying to promote healthier lifestyles

Silhouette: The Warriors hope to play at the Last Man Standing 2012 World Championships in Cape Town next month

Warm up: The Maasai Cricket Warriors seen limbering up on the beach during a training session

Relocation to Nairobi, Kenya - the trials and tribulations of settling in

2012-03-07T09:55:00.001+03:00

Ant Carnage

Only 3 ants in my coffee this morning. I think I found the nest in the kitchen at the weekend and fortunately still had the dregs of an imported bottle of ‘Nippon’ powder –( as in - imported via my suitcase one summer in a moment of extreme foresight, or else brought in by a kind friend or member of my family). – I have never found a good ant powder in Nairobi, but a friend of mine said that her house help brought her something once that she called ‘chalk’ which apparently works a treat.

Before tackling the problem, by Sunday morning our abandoned looking dirty washing-up that was sitting in the kitchen sink, was heaving darkly with a gazillion ants. The children squealed when they saw it. Throwing the dirty plates into my ‘pride and joy’ mini dishwasher was a fairly revolting tasks. I was up to my elbows in drowned ant carcasses. Others were still furiously running about.

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Photo from Telegraph article on expats settling-in (see link below)

Thoughts on Relocation and settling in

Apologies for the long absence. I’ve been writing a comprehensive Nairobi relocation guide and it has been a big project (currently running at x120 pages). I do know that if I was presented with a document like that on arrival I’d run and hide, so I’ve tried to liven it up with jazzy photos and coloured fonts in my characteristically ‘low tech’ approach. Never done desk top publishing.. it’s more a case of cut and paste.

So it has been 3 weeks of long days sitting on my butt with just the occasional break, to get up and stretch or emerge squinting into the garden for 5 minutes before turning back inside – plus a few incidents of getting to 3pm and realising I haven’t brushed my teeth yet or – skipping lunch etc. And now the guide is nearly complete with all-you-need-to-know info on everything from; what to do at weekends, how to open a bank account, how much do international schools cost, which hospitals, how to find a house, stuff to do with kids, where to shop etc. Test me, test me – my mind is still racing...

This guide (and of course the Africa Expat Wives Club forum – which is still active I might add!) has concentrated my mind on relocation and how people really feel about moving to Nairobi. It reminded me that it really is an emotional journey.

How does reality measure up to expectation?

Personally I was thrilled to move here in March 9 years ago. This had a lot to do with the fact that we were coming from Dar es Salaam in Tanzania and Nairobi is a lot less hot, not humid, no malaria, far fewer bugs or snakes. Plus there were novelties such as an open fire and joy of joys, you can buy things like fresh mushrooms! But after the building boom of the last 10 years and with horrendous traffic getting worse by the year, is Nairobi really still the ‘Green City in the Sun’ that it was once famous for? Let’s face it, nowadays apartment living is more the norm.

I think what often comes as something of a surprise after all the excitement of sorting out the logistics of the move - is loneliness. Going to live in another country, suddenly divorced from your former life, friends, family, far from your support network (and in the case of the trailing spouse, also your job, which is always bound up with personal identity, sense of self-worth etc) – can be immensely lonely. On one hand you are supposed to be grateful for all the spare time on your hands, your friends back home are jealous – more often than not someone is doing the housework for you - and perhaps you are grateful for a while - but the novelty of being in a new country soon wears off.

The only thing to do is zip up your boots and give it your best crack. Having children in tow always makes life easier because of the school network and some companies are more supportive than others, but in the end for everyone, the only way to tackle this loneliness is to get enormously resourceful –

Top Tips

 Go along to terrifying groups and meetings even though instinct tells you that you’d rather poke your eyes out with knitting needles than stand at the back blushing. In Tanzania, I joined the Hash House Harriers for goodness sake (hate, hate, hate running – singing in public and beer (especially warm Safari) – but I have to admit, it could be fun once the embarrassment subsided!

 Learn some Swahili. I know you can certainly get by without it as everyone speaks wonderful English in Kenya, but if nothing else – by learning the language you learn something of the culture and knowing a few words helps you feel included. Plus, encouragingly the effort to speak Swahili is always appreciated (unlike in trying to speak French in France where people deliberately pretend they haven’t the faintest idea what you are trying to say).

 Apply for a job (your own embassy is always a good start – the pay is lousy but it’s a mini support network nonetheless). Find out from them about any informal meetings/groups that you could join. Voluntary work is admirable, but it’s hugely challenging here and in my opinion only really recommended for people who have been living here for some time and are fully settled.

 If you don’t want to work, think of doing some online training in an area that you’ve always been interested in – teaching, web design, writing, do an MA/PHD? Working alone at home is not going to help much with loneliness, but it does help with self esteem.

 Join a gym. Exercise always makes you feel better and it gets you out of the house.

 Get creative. Start making things, in Kenya you can even get things made for you because we are surrounded by fabulously skilled artisans (fundis) who charge comparatively little for their time (furniture, clothes, leather belts and bags) – either for gifts or you could even send them back home for friends to sell?

 Pursue anything that you are interested in with dogged determination. You may be disappointed by a lack of formal sports facilities but there will always be an informal group of like minded enthusiasts gathering somewhere, be it motor biking, playing football or hockey, bicycling, stamp collecting – whatever. You’ll track them down in the end.

Hope this doesn't all sound too patronising. The good news is that Nairobi is a hugely cosmopolitan city, absolutely chock full of other people from other countries both from the region and overseas, many of whom might well be feeling exactly the same as you.

Once you have settled in, I’ve noticed that people (myself included) wear those early, harder experiences of being new in the country, like a sort of badge of honour. Horror stories of misunderstandings and awkward situations get rolled out over dinners and coffees, new friends bond over them.

If anyone else has any tips on how to get settled as quickly as possible, knows of networking groups for newcomers (I know that there is one Facebook group who meet regularly) or even if you just have a story on how it panned out for you – then please do share it by commenting – it might help.

Click here for Telegraph article: 'settling-in is expat's biggest worry when moving abroad'.

Tweeting policeman - innovative way for cash strapped police force in Kenya to fight crime

2012-02-20T15:17:00.000+03:00

*taken from The Telegraph

'Help, sheep missing': How Twitter is fighting crime in Kenya

Twitter is being used as a crime-fighting tool by a tech-savvy village chief in Kenya. Francis Kariuki, the administrative chief of Lanet Umoja, has used the micro-blogging site for everything from tracking down missing sheep to stopping home invasions.

Kariuki said that even the thieves in his village follow him on Twitter. Earlier this year, he tweeted about the theft of a cow, and later the cow was found abandoned, tied to a pole.
His Twitter account is so popular that, he says, even the thieves in his village follow him.

One night his phone rang at 4am warning him that thieves were invading a school teacher's house.

He tweeted the message - and within minutes, villagers had gathered outside the house, frightening the thugs into fleeing.

"My wife and I were terrified," said teacher Michael Kimotho. "But the alarm raised by the chief helped."

Kariuki has also saved livestock with his lightning typing.

One of Kariuki's crime-fighting tweets:

"There is a brown and white sheep which has gone missing with a nylon rope around its neck and it belongs to Mwangi's father," he tweeted recently in Swahili. The sheep was soon recovered.

Kariuki said that even the thieves in his village follow him on Twitter. Earlier this year, he tweeted about the theft of a cow, and later the cow was found abandoned, tied to a pole.

Kariuki's official Twitter page shows 300 followers, but the former teacher estimated that thousands of the 28,000 residents in his area receive the messages he sends out directly and indirectly. He said many of his constituents, mostly subsistence farmers, cannot afford to buy smart phones, but can access tweets through a third-party mobile phone application. Others forward the tweets via text message.

"Twitter has helped save time and money. I no longer have to write letters or print posters which take time to distribute and are expensive," Kariuki said.

Often Kariuki's tweets are about minor thefts - but they can also take a more serious turn

Kariuki, 47, said that he has been able to bring down the crime rate in Lanet Umoja from near-daily reports of break-ins to no such crimes in recent weeks. He also uses Twitter to send messages of hope, especially for the young and unemployed.

"Let's be the kind of people that do good for others whether we get paid back or not, whether they say thank you or not," one recent tweet said.

Kariuki said he intends to use Twitter to promote peace as Kenya prepares to hold another presidential election in the next year - the first since the 2007-08 postelection violence that killed more than 1,000 people.

A recent report said that Twitter is enjoying big growth across Africa. It said South Africans use Twitter the most, but Kenya is second in usage on the continent.

The research by Kenya-based Portland Communications and Tweetminster found that over the last three months of 2011, Kenyans produced nearly 2.5 million tweets. More than 80 per cent of those polled in that research said they mainly used Twitter for communicating with friends, 68 per cent said they use it to monitor news.

Beatrice Karanja, the head of Portland Nairobi, said the findings show that the use of Twitter is part of a revolution for governments that want to open dialogue with their citizens and businesses that want to talk with their consumers.

Rachel Bremer, a spokeswoman for Twitter, said her company wasn't aware of Kariuki and his innovative use of Twitter, but she called it "a great one."

"We are constantly amazed by the ways people all over the world are using Twitter to communicate," she said.

Flash-mob etiquette

2012-02-20T09:44:00.000+03:00

I'm just wasting time looking at Stella McCartney's innovative 'flash-mob' fashion show that took place at the weekend. It made me smile.

I'm not really au fait with flash-mobs, but for those who are out of the loop - the flash-mob is where people in public spaces suddenly burst into choreographed dances (usually because they are promoting something) leaving the remaining 50% of the people in that same public space feeling bewildered but hopefully, entertained. The flash-mob will start with one person doing something strange, then five others join, then ten, then suddenly more until you might have hundreds dancing around you.

The Stella McCartney London Fashion Week Flash-mob

The only flash-mobs I've seen have been on TV or Youtube. The one in Jamie Oliver's series on bringing healthy eating habits to the US where ee staged a flash-mob at a college where 50 odd students broke into a 'stir-fry-athon' accompanied by funky music. There's also that big one in the movie 'Friends with Benefits' with Mila Kunis and Justin Timberlake - in fact I think that there were 2 in that movie, the Time Square one (below) and the engagement one in the train station at the end (yes, the movie was a bit corny).

Friends with Benefits Flash-mob

I don't think that we are about to be treated to any Flash-mobs in Kenya any time soon (sadly) - but I do have one question on flash-mob etiquette which is; can one join in??

Wouldn't that be funny?

How would Stella McCartney feel if some of her fashion show audience got carried away and decided to grab a dancing, swirling model and invite her to a non-choreographed waltz. Nose put out of joint?

Could be awkward...!

The Jamie Oliver one...

Jamie Oliver's Marshall University Flash-mob

I recently watched a Wedding Video where the whole thing was conducted as a Flash-mob, with grannies, aunties and ushers all dancing and mouthing to song words. Now that was fun!!

Related post: Social Media - Veritable Minefield

Happy Austerity Valentine's Day

2012-02-14T10:12:00.002+03:00

Our wedding anniversary is the day before valentine's, so I have my roses already - lucky me! My husband swerved into the shopping centre on the way back from collecting our daughter from school yesterday evening. He bought fab flowers with roses, lilies and swirly silver painted sticks - all set into oasis - which my daughter had to then balance on her knee for the rest of the way home. I wondered what was taking them so long. Meanwhile, I scribbled my husband a card.

A word to the wise - having a wedding anniversary on 13th Feb is a great cost saving idea. It wasn't something that occurred to us straight away - but we've since learned that because you go out for dinner the night before valentine's, you actually pay a 'normal price' for your dinner and less for a babysitter - plus there's no problem with your favourite place being booked out or too busy. Yay!

To be honest, we didn't actually bother going out last night - austerity don't you know - and the fact that it was a monday, we were knackered after a busy weekend and had to get up at 5.50am this morning as it's a normal school day etc etc. So it was a night in for us, with the Downton Abbey Series 2 box set, and a boiled egg because neither of us was very hungry.

Fortunately for us in Kenya, a bunch of 20 roses costs about a pound ($1.5) - because they are farmed here (no ranting about flower farms here please). If you want top notch 'export' quality - you are looking at pushing the boat out to two pounds ($3). A big fancy arrangement, 10 pounds tops. Hooray for austerity!

Married for 13 years. Oh the romance!...

'Mum, I can see a caterpillar'

2012-02-10T08:33:00.002+03:00

'I can see a caterpillar.' - statement of fact.
'No you can't.'
'Yes I can.'
'No you can't.'
'Yes I can.'
'Nonsense.'

We are all sitting around the table for Sunday lunch (outside). This reminds me of conversations I used to have around the table as a child - history is repeating itself - but that was another era.

'Well, where is it then?' My husband demands, stalking around the table.
'There.'
'What there?' Disbelief. 'That's just a leaf!'
'No it isn't, it's a caterpillar.'
Now my middle daughter is now prodding her cauliflower gingerly with her fork.

'Oh yes, it is a caterpillar.' My husband grabs the offending cauliflower floret and hurls it across the grass. 'Never mind.' He says, 'Now get on with the rest of your lunch.'

No one has much of an appetite anymore.
'Do we have to eat the rest of our cauliflower?' All 3 daughters ask - spotting a window of opportunity - a viable excuse to skip the veg.
'Yes' I say firmly.

Then, a few moments later, I feel guilty. I grab one of the 3 pieces of remaining cauliflower from our 6 year old's plate. I can't help noticing that this one has a caterpillar's cocoon hidden on one side. I point surreptitiously to it, to show my husband while no one else is looking. He raises an eyebrow.
'Okay, no one has to finish their cauliflower.' I say.
'How many caterpillars do you reckon we've already eaten?' My husband asks, staring down at his empty plate.

***

Now - it's not even as though this was an isolated incident. Almost EVERY time I cook broccoli, there is accompanying wildlife that goes with it. If I'm lucky the little green camouflaged blighters will float to the top of the boiling water as I cook - then I can spoon them out with the skill of a surgeon. It's more difficult when you are talking about aphids or eggs. The irony is - our kids like broccoli!! I can't bring myself to strike such an iron and vitamin rich veg from their diet. Occasionally, I feel cheered by the fact that perhaps this time, we've escaped the caterpillars - by some miracle, I'm cooking and the broccoli appears to be caterpillar free- but then I find one - and I know that there are bound to be more.

I think back to the days when I was a self-indulgent and spoiled student - I was fussy...cutting the rind from my bacon and the fat from my lamb. Times changed. As a newly-wed I found myself routinely seiving weevils from flour, picking stones from dry rice before cooking and tapping ants from the sugar bowl. (By the way - it's so dry that now ants are back in the kitchen with a vengance). I've even been known to negotiate around the mould in a refridgerated jar of pesto sauce. I'm not proud.

Lettuce is just the same. I took some leaves from a Tupperware in the fridge that I'd painstakingly washed in boiled and filtered water a couple of days before. From a leaf on my plate, popped the rearing head of a caterpillar - looking at me, looking at you. I had no idea they could survive in the cold and without air for so long. 'Incredible resilience' I thought, before flicking it out of the window.

I know that I should be grateful that pesticides and sprays have not made Nairobi's veg into plasticated, chemical filled GM shadows of their former selves - like the ones you see in supermarkets back home where rows and rows of carrots and leeks are of the same size, weight and colour- but somehow I really don't feel all that that grateful when literally face-to-face with the wildlife that is inhabiting my food.

The most famous 'dudu' related incident in our family is when our middle daughter (it always seems to be her), bit into some mango that 'tasted funny'. She looked up at the rest of the family and we all witnessed the image of a maggot writhing round between a large and beautiful front tooth and the top of her gum. My eldest daughter since then has felt completely vindicated in her decision never to eat fruit.

What is the opposite of vegetarian?

I think that carbs and meat only is the only safe diet from now on.

p.s. I think I told you about the time when the gecko fell into my coffee.....without me noticing...(shiver)

I can't remember the last time it rained...and the trials of working freelance

2012-02-06T09:06:00.003+03:00

Okay, obviously I do remember the big November rains, and possibly a shower at around Christmas time - but since then it has been Dry, Dry, Dry here in Nairobi. Everyday is unfailingly sunny - clear blue skies. I keep looking at the weather forecast and only find a week's worth of round orange suns in a row. I'm not complaining. It's heaven, but I do notice that the once green grass is starting to crisp up. The leaves of our potted yucca plant have been blasted yellow by fierce sunshine. And water is beginning to be a vague concern - as is usual for this time of year. We've had to order a few water trucks since the City Council supply has dried up.

***

It's exam week this week for our eldest daughter. She's only 11 but somehow the build-up has been seriously heavy going this time. Kids are under so much pressure these days. The school tries to strike a medium, suggesting: 'start revising over Christmas' and 'don't overdo it - yawning children do not perform well in exams'. Peer pressure is as much about parents as it is children. The result - we seem to have been focused on these bloomin' exams for months, whether we like it or not.

Admittedly, I'm not very good at 'revision guidance' either. Yesterday I found my daughter faithfully re-creating her already beautifully executed diagrams from her science book (she loves drawing)- with a lot of painstaking colouring-in. The Tiger mother in me flipped - 'Colouring in?! WHAAT? How about trying to just read through the book and absorbing some of the facts!'

She'll be itching to leave home in just over a year's time - but I'm still not sure we'll be willing to let her go - poor thing!

***

"I write when I'm inspired, and I see to it that I'm inspired at 9:00 every morning."

Peter De Vries

At the moment I am supposed to be 'working'. Freelance. I didn't realise how much 'talking about work' and correspondance/meetings for 'lining up work' would be involved before actually DOING any work.

For instance - we talked about me taking a train trip to Mombasa for a travel mag. I did my research and got very stressed (last time I went on the train it was delayed for 5 hours). Then the day before I was due to leave, the trip got cancelled - apparently the Mombasa/Nairobi train will not be taking passengers for the foreseeable future while repairs/upgrading are carried out on the carriages. Phew.

Other 'leads' seem, stubbornly, to prefer being 'in the pipeline' than actually bearing fruit. Contracts look promising enough for me to feel stressed - about the prospect of being stressed and inundated... hopefully..sometime in the foreseeable future - but best not to bank on it yet. Meanwhile, I'm still trying to figure out how many years it's going to take me to pay back the cost of the work permit. As you can appreciate - at the moment this is difficult.

So, not wanting to waste time, last week I sent the Tiger Mother article to The Telegraph Weekend - "We did Tiger Mothers last Saturday so won't be covering it again for some time."   Duh (their Tiger Mothers story was posted online just after I sent my email). Piqued, I stick the article on my blog instead.

I had an enjoyable time ordering snazzy business cards from uk.moo.com - however, not sure if they will ever reach me in Nairobi via conventional post (cost of DHL was prohibitive).   So I only ordered 50 cards and console myself with the fact that it's unlikely that anyone will be interested in lifting them from our postbox en route (as has happened with children's birthday presents etc in the past).

***

I've also been having fun familiarising myself with the local printer's shop.....

First of all I took a flash drive in there and it got infected with a horrible virus. It was a very clever virus actually, some dodgy files appear on your flash disk named 'porn' and 'sexy' (please believe me! - none of my friends did - they just laughed in my face) - I didn't notice this until I got home, then when I did put said flash disc into my computer, anything I Googled took me straight to an advertising website. Word documents disappeared. Everything was unravelling. When I worked out that this was a virus (with the help of a v. patient and also indignant husband who swore blind that he was not responsible for the 'porn' infection), then confronted the print shop (why on earth would I have anything saying porn or sexy on my flash disc I ask you?!) - the shop assistant admitted they had a problem - and that they'd had other complaints. They swore that they'd finally call in a technician 'with a powerful anti-virus' to deal with the problem.

The second time I went into the same print shop (it took a couple of weeks to get over the first experience), I asked for 2 documents to be printed out and bound. Admittedly they were quite big documents (100 pages each).

"Colour or black and white?" the lady asked.
"Um, oh let's go for colour." I said blithely. "Why not? It would be nicer."

I went back an hour later.

"Not finished yet." They said.
"Huh?"
"The printer is very slow."

I go home. Went back two hours later.

"Well that will cost you around 100 pounds." they said. (Okay not quite - but 10,800 shillings!! Gasp!)

"WHAAAATATAATAAT?"

"Well, if you'd asked for black and white it would have been more like 25 pounds."

"So why didn't you say that in the first place?!" I choke.

"You didn't ask." (She's right - I didn't).

I learn that many customers don't think to ask the price and don't particularly mind paying. I notice a pile of x1,000 USAID documents piling up on another desk.

"I guess USAID didn't ask." I say. (Apparently they did, and they negotiated a small discount.)

"Why aren't your prices clearly displayed anywhere?" I counter - still in shock.. now getting bolshy...

"We don't do that - we don't want our competitors knowing what we charge."

I'm in that fug - a red mist - that I know will be impossible to get out of here without blowing a fuse at some point - but deep down you know it won't help - so I do my best to keep cool. Focus - deal with problem in hand....

(It reminds me of a situation that I often find myself in Nairobi. You are at the till and suddenly get asked to pay more for an item than the price tag shows. The shop assistant tells you, 'sorry, we got the pricing wrong - but if the computer says it costs more - that's that' -  You find yourself thinking nostalgically of Trading Standards back home; how selling something for more than it's advertised price is ....illegal - and then you give up - because there's no point in arguing, you are not so principled that you are able to hand the item back so you hand-over the cash - and leave the shop feeling robbed of a bargain.)

So - back to the printer's. That's all my profits wiped from the first commission in one fail swoop. Trying to negotiate the price down after the 'fait accompli' was no joke. I don't (quite) lose my temper, but swear that I'll never go back to that shop. However, inevitably I probably will go back (if I'm not banned) because it's convenient and who I am trying to kid - I'll get over it.

I do actually have a couple of commissions to get on with now, but as you can see I'm procrastinating as usual. One is an article (at my suggestion) describing the highs and lows of working freelance - I thought that was apt - goodness knows I could do with researching the subject.

- I don't think that I'm going to be very good at this.

Note to self no 1. Go and buy printer cartridges.

Commuters in Nairobi and the infamous Nairobi fly

2012-01-31T09:36:00.001+03:00

I did the early school run this morning. We left home at around 6.05am. Admittedly, it's only the second time I've done this run (my husband normally goes) but now I'm filled with ideas over how to change the world for the better (of course). Namely, high-visibility vests for pedestrians and cyclists. I saw a couple of people wearing them today and they really are effective.

If I was a government/aid organisation and had a budget to save lives in Nairobi, this is what I'd invest in. I might start with handing out high-viz vests to employees of private guarding firms (they are to-ing and fro-ing from their posts at dawn and dusk), then roll out to everyone else because these days I would guess that the majority of employees in Town are leaving home in the dark. I think I'll pop down to Nakumatt and buy a few now

Once I was lambasted for suggesting that the sun in Kenya rises and sets quickly - apparently it was too crude a generalisation and was told that of course there are different kinds of dawn and dusk from region-to-region. I stand corrected, but coming from England where dawn and dusk can drag on for hours, there is a marked difference here. I left the house in pitch darkness this morning, when I arrived at my destination 20 minutes later, it was like someone had flicked up the blind. My husband always says driving at dusk and dawn is dangerous because your eyes (retina) are switching from rods to cones at dawn - he always has the technical answer.

The good thing about getting on the road early is that the dreaded traffic is far better - an hour later and you are looking at the worst kind of gridlock (I saw the School bus with our youngest daugter inside it, inching along at an agonising pace when I was on my way back home). The down side is that it is still dark and because there is less traffic, everyone is driving very fast. Today there was a man wearing a navy fleece, manually pulling a very long and heavy piece of machinery (a tarmac roller?) across both lanes of Ngong Road in what he thought was a suitable gap in traffic. I didn't see him until I was on top of him. It was heart in mouth stuff as I jabbed at the dashboard to find the hazard lights.

When we got to school, my eldest refused to get out of the car. She had the internal light on and was reading her book.
"It's so cold in the pool!" she said, "there's something wrong with the heating at the moment."
I felt awful, but coaxed her out and said. "Well we're here now, you might as well swim."

However, when I got to the pool, I heard the coach say clearly,
"Hurry up, get changed everyone, in you get, the water is very warm!"
I raised an eyebrow at my daughter who was now defiantly reading her book on the poolside stands and refusing to undress.

Perhaps part of the eldest's reluctance to swim can be attributed to her 'Nairobi Fly/eye' burn that appeared on her leg last Wednesday. It's a lot better now, but the whole experience has been traumatic.

Nairobi Fly/Nairobi Eye - commonly found after rains

Last week she came back from school complaining that she had got some sunburn on her leg. I thought that this was odd, since when did you get a localised sunburn in a particular patch on the inside leg by the knee? There was a small mark on her other leg too. We slathered on some Sudocream, but the mark continued to get worse. Soon she was limping, the area was hot. By friday/saturday it looked like really quite a deep burn indented into the skin. I felt bad for her but guessed it was a Nairobi Fly - if you crush them off your skin they secrete a nasty acid - if you spot one then it's best to blow it off -but often people encounter them without realising, then they get a burn. We've seen so many around since the big rains in November.

This is not my daughter's burn, but you get the idea..

Typcial that it was this daughter who was the first in the family to get 'stung' by a Nairobi fly. She still has a jellyfish scar on her neck from 3 years ago. I hope this one isn't going to add to her collection. You do hear of people getting Nairobi fly stings on the eye - now that's nasty.

Tiger mothering ... even in Nairobi - or should we say lion mothering?

2012-01-30T15:03:00.003+03:00

The beginning of this school term has been like charging headlong into a maelstrom - then the realisation that I've turned into - a tiger mother. Here's an article I wrote about it:

“You’re becoming another one of those tiger mothers aren’t you?”

The line was breaking up, surging as it was across the airwaves from over 6000 miles away, but the accusation was unmistakable and to be honest with you, it stung. Even in Nairobi, I had heard about Amy Chua and her mothering techniques.

I’ve always prided myself on a lazy, laid-back approach to mothering which sees the television go on at 7am on weekends to ensure my husband and I get a lie-in. Fortunately, at the ages of 11, 9 and 6, the children are old enough to reach the fridge door, so I am reassured that no one will die of hunger and, with any luck, they’ll have enough sense not to stick their fingers into a power socket. I’ve perfected the art of tuning out indignant bouts of crying that result from yet another inter-sibling spat. Unless blood is drawn, then there’s no need for me to get involved.

So why the ‘tiger mother’ comment? I was attempting, over the phone, to describe the process of getting back into a term time routine. Then I happened to mention that two of the three had been asked to join the school swimming team which involves early morning swimming training ... in an outdoor pool ... at 6.30am. (I have to admit, this did take a while for me to get my head round). The reaction of my mother? Unbridled horror.

Grandparents today are a bastion of old values – they see it as their role to ensure that modern parental madness does not jeopardise the welfare of their grandchildren. But are they fighting a losing battle?

“It was never like this in our day.” They might say, “Whatever happened to just reading a book?” Or; “Being bored makes for a more resourceful child.”

For their words of wisdom, I am grateful. Deep down I know they are right but resisting overwhelming peer pressure to push one's children is another matter entirely.

In the past our children had no choice but to fit in with us. When we took our eldest daughter on a road trip to Northern Zambia, we were armed with nothing but a plastic tape recorder, nursery rhyme cassettes and bread sticks. She was eighteen months old. In Tanzania, weekends were all about beach trips and boats. When all three children were small, a friend of mine asked me what I meant by the term ‘free play’. I laughingly explained that it was leaving the kids to get on with it, figuring that clearing up and the application of a plaster or arnica onto the odd bump or graze was a small price to pay for an hour’s peace. I’ve also been devilishly tactical in my approach. For instance, I put blinkers on the children whenever they have been in sight of horses. My efforts have been justly rewarded by the fact that none have the least inclination to ride.

However, since September, life has gone mad. I have been sucked inexorably into the vortex of pressurised parenting. Modern life seems almost too frenetic to bear. We might live in East Africa, but our full timetable is equal to those of modern mums the world over: Monday; drums, Tuesday; guitar, Wednesday; cello, Thursday; Piano. (The irony is that not one of them has ever reached the heady heights of Grade one!)

My organisational skills are deplorable, not helped by the fact that I find writing lists abhorrent: Pack match kit, shin pads, tennis racket. Make sure scruffled copy of poem is memorized. It’s all whizzing around in my head. When the girls leave the house before dawn, I pray that we haven’t forgotten to pack school shoes, or perish the thought; knickers!

Our six year old still seems to be labouring under the misapprehension that school is optional.

“Please can I stay at home today?” she says for the fifth time in the space of half-an-hour. “I’m tired. I’d really like a day off.”

When I say “no” for the final time, she rejoins perceptively,

“I know why you want me to go to school. It’s because you want to be alone!”

And she’s right. After a rushed breakfast punctuated by complaints of shoes being too tight or tummy ache, there is the blissful hiatus of day time, at the end of which one must steel oneself for an evening of heightened emotions (not least mine), where not only do tired children need to be fed and bathed, but heckled through homework, harassed over play lines, reminded to do revision and motivated into music practise. This generally involves a lot of shouting.

Weekends that once involved outdoor adventure in Kenya, picnics or slothful leisure time in the sun have now been replaced by agonising hours spent at noisy swimming galas, ferrying children to dance practice through hellish traffic and sitting through choral concerts; all of which our children take part in gamely enough, but do not excel.

Presumably what drives us is the knowledge that the childhood years from 6-to-12 are critical in harnessing a child’s potential. There’s no doubt that coached and hot-housed children do get good results in the short term, but with all this relentless stimulation are they happy? Last night I found I was haranguing my middle daughter over the drum piece she was practicing.

“Is this really the piece your teacher wants you to play for next week’s tea time concert?” I said, thinking of the forty-odd other parents that will be attending, “I’m sure you can do better than that.”

In the cold light of day I feel ashamed. Turns out in my case, the tiger mother tag is true. Whatever happened to ‘free play’?

***
P.S.
RIP the school tennis coach who died suddenly last week. He was very popular with a lot of the children and will be sorely missed. His passing has elicited a lot of talk of death in our family.
"Mummy," our 6 year-old said, "I hope you and me can die at the same time?"
"Why?"
"Because then we can both hold hands on our way up to heaven"

Breaking news - ICC cases confirmed against 4 suspects

2012-01-23T13:43:00.011+03:00

1.30pm:

Glued to the TV - don't dare get up for a wee. You could probably hear a pin drop in Kenya at this moment.

The Hague/court say they are mindful of their decision affecting stability in Kenya and the weight of their onerous decision. I know that the ICC has their work cut out - not only with having to wade through huge amounts of evidence, but in the local newspapers there have been numerous stories of ICC witnesses (some under witness protection, others in Kenya) either disappearing, turning up dead or suddenly recanting their statements.

So far we know that charges will be confirmed against four of the 6 suspects...ie. that is the court deems there is enough evidence to make these cases admissable. That they are innocent until proven guilty, of being indirect core perpetrators of Kenya's post election violence.

1.40pm

So far: William Ruto, Joshua Sang - charges confirmed against them - the case will go to trial.

Henry Kosgey - charges not confirmed - case dismissed.

Next:
Uhuru Kenyatta, Francis Muthaura - Charges confirmed.
Hussein Ali, (former chief of police) charges not confirmed.

OMG!

Kenya's political scene suddenly in free fall!

2.30pm:

William Ruto is on the local news at the moment, looking deflated for the first time ever, making a lengthy statement about his faith in justice, appreciation of the support of his wife and belief in God..
The telegraph - click for coverage
BBC news - click for coverage

Uhuru Kenyatta and William Ruto - presidential aspirants but a case of crimes against humanity to hear at The Hague first

BTW - It's 85 degrees and sunny every day in Nairobi at the moment ...

ICC confirmation of Charges pending..

2012-01-22T21:49:00.001+03:00

Here in Kenya we are awaiting, with great anticipation, for the ICC ruling on whether charges will be confirmed against those 6 prominent figures deemed most responsible for masterminding post election violence in Dec 2007/Jan 2008, which left over 1,300 Kenyans dead and more than 300,000 people displaced from their homes (many are still living in temporary accommodation as Internally Displace Persons/IDPs today).   I'm not sure why the overseas newspapers are making so little of this - it surely is the most momentous day for Kenya in decades - certainly since independence. The outcome could not just the political map but decades of impunity - everything.

Charges against the 6 (above) include being criminally responsible for; murder, forcible transfer of population, rape, persecution and crimes against humanity.  These strong words come as a shock to read because over the past four years it has been easy to forget about the horrors that went on in those dark months after the last election; for years now it's all been buried under a shroud of politics - smoke and mirrors. We tend to forget about the victims. They are not able to shout loud enough.

It is a fairly drawn case. 3 of the group represent supporters of President Kibaki and 3 for Raila Odinga who contested the result of the last election. Who are they? Click here for previous post

The public will learn of the Hague decision at 1.30pm on Monday (the accused will hear the outcome one hour before the public via email).

There are concerns that there will be some sort of adverse reaction by the public on release of the ICC verdict - whether by supporters of the suspects, or opposers - depending on the outcome - street protests etc. The British foreign office have sent their usual warning to avoid public gatherings/demonstrations etc. However, I suspect that all will be peaceful - whatever the outcome, there is bound to be a sense of relief. And afterall, who will want to organise a politically charged demonstration when those on the stand are accused of manipulating the emotions of the masses to serve their own political ends? In fact, how strong is the public support for these 6? How much do people really care for them?  And how organised are the near to silent victims if the suspects are acquitted? Would they really demonstrate?

Meanwhile, it seems that all 6 suspects are confident that they will be exonerated tomorrow. They've been maintaining a high profile today, attending church services (perhaps seeking divine intervention?), and being followed by the press, smiling and dancing in public rallies. Behind those smiles, there must be nerves cracking through.

Two of the suspects, William Ruto and Uhuru Kenyatta, plan to run for president this year (assuming that there will be elections this December - but that's another story) and they maintain that they will not be knocked off course, even if charges are confirmed against them. In fact, they are two of the key presidential aspirants in the race. However, it's complicated. If they do have a court case hanging over them and charges are confirmed, this will undoubtedly change the political outlook for the next government. For more from the local press; The Standard, click here

Ironically, Uhuru (grandson of Kenya's first president) and Ruto, have formed a strong alliance since belonging to totally opposing sides during the last election - how fickle politics is. Uhuru was allied to the current President Kibaki, and Ruto to Raila Odinga. Many question why Kibaki and Odinga were not called into the Hague investigation since they must have known a little of what was going on. Are the 6 scapegoats/fall guys. Ruto and Uhuru plan to be together in a hotel in town, along with fellow MPs, to watch the verdict read out and then hurriedly work out their next step. Legally they are allowed to continue their race for president, even if they do have a court case hanging over their head - but the reality may be that few will be willing to put too much faith in them. Surely their integrity will have been compromised.

Francis Muthaura, Head of Public Service is one of the most powerful members of Kibaki's cabinet today. Hussein Alli, former police chief and current postmaster general - may well have to resign. We are still waiting to hear what the outcome is over the Nancy Baraza case (the deputy Chief Justice who pinched the security guard's nose and threatened her with a gun..?!). The age of impunity is becoming increasingly difficult to uphold.

My question is, (and I had the same question in the Amanda Knox case) - if those 6 are acquitted, therefore not responsible for organsing the violence after the last election - and the public perception here is that the violence very much was organised - then who is? Mr Nobody I suspect.

Trivia - traffic, school and snow

2012-01-19T14:11:00.000+03:00

Temporarily, we have had to re-think our daily routine. Why? Because school swimming training has begun. It's complicated. My husband is not only taking a packed lunch but a packed breakfast to work. Forward planning is necessary. Invariably things get forgotten. Yesterday our middle daughter forgot to pack her school socks (she managed to borrow some). The day before, my husband forgot his lunch.

The children are supposed to report to the school pool at 6.30am, dive in and swim a gazillion lengths. It's only just getting light in Nairobi at 6.30am, so the children have been driven to school in the dark. This, for us, this is a new state of craziness (we were already getting them up and out pretty early) - but each cloud has a silver lining. There's far less traffic at 6am, so their route to school takes half the usual time. Traffic is getting so dreadful in this city that getting up in the dark is the only answer to beat commuting time. As long as we forego alcohol, put a line through our social life and make sure we are in bed by 9.30pm - then it's fine...

****

Our eldest daughter recently returned from her much anticipated school skiing trip. It was an enormous success. Many of the 35 children had never seen snow before. Apparently there were lots of expressions of; “Wow, this is so not like the snow in SkiDubai”. (funny). It brought memories flooding back of when we showed our three snow for the first time a couple of years ago. I can just remember their astonishment when they realised that snow was actually wet! Wet trousers, freezing hands. Convincing them in centrally heated rooms that yes, they WILL need their coats!

When my husband first saw snow, he was in his teens. When the teacher caught him gazing out of the window at snow falling, he was reprimanded.

“But it’s snowing,” my husband said. A friend of his helpfully piped,

“He’s never seen snow before, Sir.”

So they stopped the French class and let everyone go outside, especially to see him experience snow for the first time ever.

(BTW Are you not loving the David Attenborough Frozen Planet series showing on DSTV on Monday nights?)

When she got back, because their flight arrived late, my daughter was given a day off school. It was a sweltering hot afternoon and as I lead her through the local shops/dukas to run errands such as; nip to the hardwarem return the dvd to the shop in the basement next to the stinky downstairs bar that always has a TV blaring, and then outside, past the poor woman in a wheelchair, hawkers with flowers, fruit and second hand clothes, broken pavement, dust, beggars and so on, to find Daniel who has glazed eyes and shaky hands and a bandage (which intrigued my daughter), so that I could swap the dodgy dvds (not working) that we’d bought from him on Saturday. I asked her, “are you having a little bit of a culture shock?” She nodded.

Karen Blixen and Denys Finch Hatton's grave today

2012-01-18T20:18:00.000+03:00

Karen Blixen's former house in Nairobi

Having lived in Nairobi for years now, the Karen Blixen legend is still as enduring as ever. When I first moved to the area, I absolutely loved visiting Karen Blixen’s house which has been wonderfully preserved with some beautiful antiques (other items are reproduction, I think many are from the movie), a wide veranda, old outdoor kitchen with original utensils and then a rolling lawn with a view of the hills that does not ever disappoint. The house is small, but packed with atmosphere, the smell of polish, wood panelling, animal skins laid over creaking floorboards, fresh flowers and sunlight seeking its way through gauzy curtains into darkened rooms. I used to like visiting the house at the end of the day when there were few other visitors and often went alone and wonder how on earth Meryl Streep and Robert Redford fitted into that narrow bed.. but I have to admit, it’s years since I’ve been inside the house now.

Karen Blixen's bedroom

Although many of those 1930s characters who lived in Kenya were pretty dissolute and not very much to be admired, I still think it’s a shame that many 1930s colonial buildings are gradually being eradicated; either left to fall into ruin in the countryside or being sacrificed in the face of Nairobi’s aggressive building boom where any square acreage is being cleared for offices, apartments or town house complexes. You do still see the odd old house on a half acre plot, with quirky low tiled roofs tucked behind Chiromo road (one of these used to belong to Ewart Grogan), cowering beneath the spectre of road construction work going on around Museum Hill on a massive scale – but these are few and far between. While progress is undoubtedly a good thing, a peep into the past is also fun. The Macmillan library in the centre of town is still very much on my wish list of places to visit – but I’m not sure what I’d find if I tried going there today. (Do let me know if you have been there anyone?)

Anyway, in the holidays, we went in search of Finch Hatton’s grave. Fortunately my husband had already passed by there on one of his boys motorbike forays, so he knew roughly where it was located and also knew that the road around the foot of the Ngong Hills had been recently graded (smoothed out). My mum who was visiting from England was dead keen to go find the grave – she’s an absolute hound for any kind of local history, so we decided to visit the grave then follow up with a picnic on the Ngong Hills on New Year’s Day. To be honest I was also keen. I love the Meryl Streep/Robert Redford film and remember clearly weeping buckets during the funeral scene at the end.

Sign to Denys Finch Hatton's grave/memorial

When we reached the bumpy track that leads vertically upwards with a roughly paint daubed sign, I wimped out and decided to park at the bottom – Unfortunately for them, I had two children in the car and my Dad. My husband, in another car (we had the dogs with us too) motored up happily and pulled into a large grassy field while my father and I literally dragged the younger two behind us up the slope to the smallholding where the grave is located. While scaling the steep hill, I said to my youngest (6) – look, those children are walking quite happily (admittedly downhill) – to which she replied - but they are USED to it! (I’m not sure how I felt about that comment!) Nonsense, I said.

In fact, it was only a 5 minute walk from the bigger road. When we reached the top and turned in to the farm, there was a lady to greet us wearing in a blue woollen hat and knee length skirt. She said that she lived there with her granny and personally tends and manages the grave site – (as well as charging 300 shillings entry per adult).

Secret garden, entrance to the memorial today

The lady had some printed out information about Denys Finch Hatton – she said that there was so much information on the internet on Denys – that she’d decided on one story only. Sensible, I thought, but I was hot (after the climb) and a bit bothered, so didn’t read the info. Instead, without preamble and having been given a hand written receipt for 1,200/ for 4 of us (the kids went in free), we were led to an unprepossessing corrugated iron door in a high hedge. This was a far cry from the open plains where lion once lay on the grave; it was more like ‘The Secret Garden’.

The obelisk

Once inside, the 12 foot obelisk and plinth were dwarfed by a hedge that ran all around the postage stamp sized plot. Although the granddaughter had indeed made a good attempt at gardening around it, the original brass plaque has been replaced by a blue one and the overall impression was claustrophobic. If you stand on the plinth and crane your neck to the left, then there is a gap in the hedge big enough to give you a glimpse of the breathtaking view that once would have lain out in front of and all around the grave. I wondered if Denys was turning in his grave – My Mum said that he probably would have been happy that the place was being well looked after.

Lions on Denys Finch Hatton's Ngong Hills grave (from the movie)

Our picnic was a success, if a little rushed. Up on the top of the windy Ngongs we frazzled in the blazing sun. The dogs, once finally out of the car, sniffed around distractedly but didn't stray far. There were some boys who were selling Masai trinkets and a couple of other picnic-ing families up there too. We then drove the length of the winding road behind the Ngong Hills, where, eerily, we saw a plaque commemorating one of former President Kenyatta’s political adversary’s whose dead body was ‘found’ there.

Nairobi tour ideas for history buffs:

The National Museum on Museum Hill (suggested reading; ‘A guide to the Birds of East Africa.’ A novel by Nicholas Grayson . The museum still organise bird watching walks and lectures)

The railway museum (see the actual carriage where a man was pulled to his death by a lion in Tsavo on the lunatic express) – previous post: Down at the Station - man eating lions of Tsavo

Karen Blixen museum (full of atmosphere – try and visit low season when there are fewer coach loads of tourists)

Finch Hatton’s grave – if you are up for an off the beaten track adventure.

The Norfolk/Stanley hotels. Both have original long bar areas.

Happy New Year in Nairobi - Security threats nothwithstanding...

2012-01-13T12:31:00.001+03:00

This update is so long overdue, I hardly know where to begin... apologies for that..

We've had a couple of tentative emails and text messages asking if we are alright in Kenya - particularly in view of the recent scaling up of the security threat/foreign office travel advisory. In fact, in Kenya we are very much alright, security threats notwithstanding. The sun in shining. After a mega sized 'short' rains in November which lasted 6 weeks, the country is looking particularly green and beautiful for this time of year. In previous years, the drought has meant that this time of year has been particularly dusty and desperate - as cows are herded into the Nairobi city centre in search of any remaining pastures and there are food shortages, but this year, dams for hydroelectric power are full of water, although the rains damaged some crops we are not in bad shape on that front. The Kenya shilling is thankfully back under control (1$-87 Kshs), we still have a cooking gas shortage but petrol prices are due to drop a little next week.

For me, the run up to christmas was the usual whirl of visitors, children at home and then ordering hams and turkeys that turn out to be so enormous that you have no idea how you are ever going to eat it...but somehow you do. Thinking about what to give everyone for a present - sadly, due to my distracted state, my husband ended up with precisely nothing for Christmas from me - a fact that I'm more than ashamed of and plan to rectify for his birthday next month - that is.. if I get my act together of course.

Obviously, living here, there's not just your own family to consider with regard to gifts, but also the people who work in our house. As well as the usual xmas bonus, Nakumatt vouchers are always a good idea as they can be cashed in all over the country and this year I gave solar powered light sets to our house staff before they headed out of Nairobi to visit family over the holiday period. These apparently were gratefully received at the other end. There are loads of portable solar lights on the market these days, and most sets can charge a mobile phone from the solar powered battery too. You would be amazed how few people in rural Kenya have access to the grid and since the price of kerosene for small lamps has gone through the roof, many people are forced to resort to sitting in the dark in the evenings at the moment.....and it gets dark early here...

In Nairobi, the number of random security checks have been stepped up - particularly on arrival at shopping centres. Foreign office staff have been advised to spend no more than 20 minutes in such places (where possible) - I honestly don't see how this advice makes any sense at all - who knows which minute is going to be an unlucky one if disaster does strike? The majority of people are just continuing life as usual while keeping fingers quietly crossed. There was an interesting BBC report that said that Nairobi and indeed Kenya is such a cosmopolitan melting pot, made up of so many cultures mixed together, Kenyan, East African, Western, Asian, Arab - that it's almost impossible to keep an eye on what is going on.

I've been watching the story of Nancy Baraza (known for her fiery temper), acting deputy Chief Justice - with utmost interest. She is reported to have insulted a female security officer at Village Market on New Year's eve, when she was asked to undergo a routine security check on entry. Apparently Nancy pinched the security woman's nose then threatened her with a gun (which of course Ms Baraza denies) - sadly for Nancy - the CCTV cameras were running. The whole incident has now gone to court - her career hangs in the balance. The security officer is sticking to her guns. We also find out this month (before the 20th Jan) whether or not the 6 leading figures accused of organising 2007/8 post election violence - will have charges confirmed against them or dropped. A couple of them are planning to run for presidency in the upcoming 2012 elections. Can't wait to find out what happens!

UK dash - secondary schools

2011-12-07T15:28:00.000+03:00

We’ve had a solid month of rain here in Kenya – of the like, I’ve never seen before. Roads are more potholed than ever, storm drains flooded, rainfall records for the past ten years have been broken. Each day of November brought with it giant rain storms, threatening black clouds and thunder, or else a drizzling mist of rain all day. So, in this wet weather, with roof leaking and power outages of up to 12 hours per time, my husband and I decided to escape to England for a week, ostensibly to look at secondary schools. It was something I thought we would never get around to doing, but when my parents-in-law (heroically) offered to babysit and we realised we had enough air miles for two return flights, we figured - why not?

So what if we are in the midst of the biggest financial crisis of all time - global upheaval, the euro on the brink, UK parents selling the family silver to afford school feels - to hell with it - why not? (We must be mad)

As you can imagine, there is peer pressure . You may think that sending your kids back to UK is just a British expat thing, but it’s actually also a Kenyan trend to send your kids overseas for the best education that you can afford (UK, the States, Canada, Switzerland). However, you may be asking yourself at this point, why, if we need to scrabble around for air miles to go back to England, do we have the gall to consider UK private schools that cost up to £10,000 a term? It’s a good question.

I think that the 7 schools that we visited were bemused by our ramshackle arrival too. While in Kenya I had made appointments willy nilly in order to make the most of our trip, our appointment schedule kept changing (hang on a minute, which Cheltenham had we booked to see? Cheltenham Ladies or the other one? I wasn’t sure) – admittedly I/we’d not done much research beyond looking at a few websites and borrowing a friend’s copy of ‘The Good Schools Guide’. There were a couple of schools that we really wanted to see, others were schools we were just curious about or happened to be driving past (useful for comparison, I thought).

To add to my woefully bad planning, my husband’s Movember beard that has now become something of a bushy fixture (I keep reminding him that we are in December), joined with the fact that he insisted on wearing what he calls his khaki green ‘protester’s’ coat to all our appointments because frankly, it’s the only coat he’s got - must have combined to make an odd impression. I didn’t do much better. The only waterproof coat I own is a fake leather brown jacket.

The first school we arrived at (direct from Heathrow after a night flight - fuzzy mouthed) was my old school. It was an open day. The other prospective parents were wearing exactly what my mum and dad used to wear back in the day when I was at school – red cords, tweed jackets and/or skirts, Guernsey jumpers. It was like we’d stepped back in time.

I won’t bore you with the details, but all the schools were great. They all had overwhelmingly good facilities - with theatres, indoor pools, sports centres, gyms, stunning historic buildings, extensive grounds - almost everyone had a new science block, half a dozen master’s or teachers per subject (all willing to indulge us with a chat), jolly matrons and lovely students were selected to show us round. I did notice that the girls tended to wear thick foundation and short skirts at co-ed schools, whereas at all-girls schools they didn’t bother, but other than that, they were similarly good.

We returned to a knackered but resilient Granny and Grandad who had clocked up two hours in solid traffic on the return journey of one school run and also managed to put up the Christmas tree - to another weekend of yet more power outages and two out of three of our children ill. My mother-in-law said on a number of occasions; “I’m so glad you’re back!”

More confused than ever, I’m not necessarily convinced that UK schools are worth sending our children to another continent and re-mortgaging the house for.. but I may change my mind as time goes on. At this point, it is hard to imagine our eldest daughter at 13 – although time is already running out. At least the weather has cheered up over the past couple of days. Perhaps it’s a sign?

Post office in Kenya and the trials of dealing with local emergency services

2011-11-16T08:50:00.003+03:00

My husband announced last night that he might like to be a postman one day. I said that’s fine but he’d be hard pushed to be one in Kenya since there’s no postal delivery service here.

It brought to mind the story from a year ago. The 5 year olds in my daughter’s kindergarten class did a school project which involved writing and posting a letter to their parents. The parents dutifully filled in an address on a form, then the children wrote out a (brief) letter and addressed an envelope. Then followed a class trip to the local post office to ceremonially post the letters, after which 10 tots crossed the road to buy a bag of crisps in the shop.

We use my husband’s work P.O. Box, so the letter from our daughter had some distance to travel, but other parents held their own P.O. Box in the exact same local post office – which meant that letters had only to travel from the post box, to an individual numbered box in the same room.

A good friend’s daughter was so excited about the prospect of her parents receiving her letter, that the next morning she absolutely insisted that she and her mother check their mail box before going to school. With trepidation, they opened the box with their small key from the outside, then imagine their delight and surprise when an actual HAND was on the other side, putting the little girl’s kindergarten letter in the box at that very moment! Not such an arduous task for the postal worker on that occasion!

We don’t really miss the door-to-door postal delivery here, but there are plenty of aspects of the local (admittedly reasonably priced) service which, not to put too fine a point on it, fail to measure up to standards we would like.

1. My father-in-law sent a postcard from Kenya to England last year. It arrived in England 6 months later. The recipient asked; “did you have a lovely holiday?” Reply; “What holiday?” He now puts all of his postcards in envelopes as they tend to arrive quicker.

2. Family and friends have sent birthday and Christmas presents from England via the conventional postal service here and the gifts, mysteriously, never arrived. This caused awkwardness when friends/family fished for a thank you and we had to admit that we hadn’t received anything, thinking they had forgotten. This happened the other way round too when we sent parcels from Kenya to England - cue more fishing emails and text messages on 'did you get the package'. It's all most disappointing.

3. If parcels do arrive in Kenya from overseas, then you are summonsed to the post office to pay duty on the package. If the sender has written an accurate ‘perceived value’ on the postage label (or bumped it up to look generous), then you end up having to pay that same price again in local currency as an import tax, in order to get your package released. Top tip: get relatives to write ‘no commercial value’ on the ticket at the post office their end.

4. Personal magazines received in clear plastic packages via subscriptions, tend to be distributed on the street via a street vendor. At the very least, your ‘free gift’ will be long gone.

So what is the answer? We try to ask friends and family to post parcels to whoever is due to come and visit us next in person, or send important letters with somebody who might be going to England next. This system is not without its drawbacks too: –

1. If you are the unlucky person who happens to mention a UK visit, then you are inundated with requests to post unstamped letters and parcels by all and sundry – which necessitates a special (and expensive) visit to queue up at a UK post office immediately you arrive (jet lagged) at the other end. Nobody in Kenya ever knows how much a first class stamp in England costs these days, since Royal Mail don’t put it on the face of the stamp any more. So friends who want their mail posted in England tend to foist a handful of Kenya shillings on you just as you are headed to the airport, an amount that bears no relation to the cost of the UK postage.

(Top tip, buy a book or two of first class stamps in advance when you are in England, there is then a Royal Mail website that allows you to calculate the cost of posting your package fairly accurately based on dimension and weight.)

2. Alternatively you might be the hapless visitor to Kenya who plans to go for some winter sun at Christmas. Within days of booking your flight, curious parcels addressed to not just family who you know, but also total strangers (friends of friends) will start appearing at your door, or pouring through your letterbox. You’ll end up bringing at least one, if not two entire suitcases filled with someone else’s parcels leaving no room for your clothes or toiletries . When an official at Heathrow asks you; “is there anything in this bag that you did not pack yourself?” You are at a loss to answer truthfully. Who knows what’s in there?

The upside of our local postal service in Kenya is that you tend not to be swamped by junk mail. You only receive the bare minium - local bank statements/bills etc.

***

In fact, we European and US citizens are thoroughly spoiled by services that we take for granted when back home. No offense but if you dial 999 in Kenya or indeed the correct number for your local police station etc, then you will invariably get an automated message saying: ‘The number you require is out of service/not accessible’.

When a wailing ambulance pulls up behind you on the road in Nairobi, you are surprised at the sight of it (it’s so rare), to the point where you forget what you are supposed to do (get out of the way) – the ambulance in question will generally be a small mini-van from a private hospital.

If you are worried about being in an emergency situation yourself whilst in Kenya, the best thing to do is have your local doctor/clinic numbers on your phone so that you can contact them in an emergency to ask what to do/where is the best place to go. GPs will often recommend known experts at a particular hospital that specialise in broken bones/heart problems etc. It's not a bad idea to familiarise yourself roughly with the route to the nearest private hospitals (Karen, Nairobi, Aga Khan, Gertrudes Garden). Also, join AMREF flying doctors and store their numbers in your phone too.

It's not just ambulances. Police often like to catch a lift to a crime scene in your car because they rarely have fuel for their own vehicles. In Tanzania an expat’s house was burning down. A private security firm’s fire truck arrived after a tip off and asked the individual in question to give credit card details before they were willing to tackle the fire since the guy in question was not a subscriber to their services. City council fire services are pretty desperate and let's be honest, fire engines can take hours to arrive, if at all.

The YouTube clip below taken from the local news recently speaks for itself! At least the newsreader has a sense of humour, though not so funny for the ones who were actually there!

Prince of Wales and Camilla sweat it out in Zanzibar

2011-11-09T09:10:00.003+03:00

Charles and Camilla arriving at Zanzibar airport.

Seeing this photograph of Charles and Camila in Zanzibar brings memories flooding back. First time visitors to the island, nothing can prepare you for the extreme humidity and heat. And they are actually wearing jackets poor things?! 'Hot' does not even nearly begin to describe it.

In 1999, my husband and I came from February in England to Zanzibar on honeymoon - I nearly died (not literally, but felt pretty close thanks to a bout of food poisoning). I'd never been far beyond Europe in my life, or to a developing country. Not at all well travelled, it all came as a huge shock. Pale and sweating, after two weeks in un-air conditioned 'eco' huts and bandas, we caught the ferry over to the mainland, to Dar es Salaam, in order to start a new life in the tropics. At the time, I can't understand why it never occurred to me that we must have been stark, staring mad to attempt such a transition. 12 years later and still in East Africa, the culture shock of first arriving in Zanzibar is still as fresh and clear in my mind as if it were yesterday.

The Telegraph article did say that Camilla had to withdraw from her tour round the Sultan's palace in order to have 'a little rest' for 5 minutes, but otherwise she seems to have coped admirably. I'm sure that the pearl encrusted jacket/dress she was wearing was a bit to heavy though - and doesn't look like a natural fabric (sack the stylist) - perhaps she could have taken a leaf out of Kate's book and chosen more of a breezy, summer frock. It's always a tricky balance in strictly Muslim Zanzibar and Dar, but cool linen shirts and unlined long skirts were my staple in those days. It was always agony to be so hot and yet compelled to cover up at the same time.

They even threw themselves into the dancing - well done!

Charles dancing/throwing shapes in 90 degree heat

They were then due to attend a garden party at the British High Commissioner's residence in Dar yesterday, which would have been be very civilised - barring the toxic smell of effluent that invariably washes over that garden from the direction of Salander Bridge and the estuary.

My husband grew up in Mombasa. His Dad's advice for any lengthy, formal occasion in the tropics (and he endured quite a few) was always, "sit or stand absolutely stock still, as still as you can - then you can cope. Fidgeting just makes the heat worse."

Dark/airless gift shop in Zanzibar

The dark, airless gift shops are also typical and haven't changed in decades. I spent many an hour in these places, desperately figuring out how these sort of christmas presents might go down in wintry England.

I gather that there was a lot of brow mopping between the royal couple. Camilla's hair would have started to flop as sweat tricked down her back and thighs. My guess is that the royal couple will be relieved to be boarding a plane to the cooler climbes of Kilimanjaro today.

Emerging from the House of Wonders, beginning to look dishevelled

Family fun day - volunteering

2011-11-08T12:59:00.004+03:00

Fireworks Ban in Nairobi

It was an odd sort of November 5th and Diwali in Nairobi this year, with all fireworks banned due to possible confusion over security threats and grenade attacks that have been threatened by Al Shabaab since Kenya began its 'incursion' into Somalia to flush the terrorists out.

A strange atmosphere pervades. There was a real worry that the Safari Sevens that took place in Nyayo Stadium last weekend might be a target for attack but fortunately all went smoothly. Somebody summed it up for me yesterday,

"Are you still shopping?" they asked. I was in a large shopping centre (quieter than usual).

"Yes, of course." I said, trying to show some famously British bravado in the face of adversity. "why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, it's okay until it happens" he said, "...if you know what I mean."

****

To be honest, while the cancellation of fireworks display might have come as a huge disappointment to many children, it was an equally huge relief to plenty of adults, especially those responsible for the pyrotechnic displays.

1. On the upside, cancelling fireworks meant that nobody got killed or maimed at the Karen Club fireworks display, which usually takes lack of health and safety measures to a new level - with small boys throwing firecrackers and lighting their own fireworks willy nilly; toddlers and teenagers alike all disappearing into the poorly lit wooded area, mud, chaos, parents drinking heavily and failing to keep an eye.

2. Our (better policed) school fireworks display was reduced to a 'family fun day' from 1pm-4pm, in aid of charity (Kigulu school in Kibera) and despite fears that the whole thing would be a damp squib without the firework crescendo - it was in fact a great success. The school does normally lay on a 'family fun for charity' organised by the parents association, from 4 until 7pm when the fireworks take place, but this year the whole thing was moved forward in the day so that it included lunch and we were all safely long gone before dark.

****

Every year I promise myself that I will join the school parent's association (especially since I now have 3 children at the same school) and every year I somehow manage to swerve it. This time I failed to turn up to the first meeting because I didn't read the newsletter, so then managed never to enter the loop of organising anything. I don't like meetings or commitment but have to admit that I do have a bit of a weakness for volunteering on the day. You are generally supposed to just do an hour of volunteering but I'm a bad example. I get very possessive over my 'pitch' and often find it hard to hand over, then walk away saying in loud, martyred tones; "do you know, I was stuck there for two and a half hours!" - but obviously it was only because I wanted to be..and just want everyone to know how marvelous I am.

My all time favourite is the lucky dip where I'll selflessly give hours of my time to collect money and watch little faces light up at each gift and tell the kids to put their rubbish in the bin. There's always a rumour amongst the children that inside the lucky dip is at least one mobile phone (I think there was one once, in the past) - so it's always by far and away the most popular stand.

lemon tart (not mine!)

On the family fun day on Saturday, I arrived feeling ultra sheepish because not only had I omitted to 'sign up' on the PA volunteer sheet but I'd also forgotten to bring my much slaved over Jamie Oliver lemon tart for the PA coffee shop stand. Frustrated and angry at myself, I stood around for a bit, sorely tempted to get back in the car and do the minimum of an hours round trip back home to get the tart. My husband was gainfully employed running his rhino charge car rides (that's a whole other story) and a very efficient rota of teaching staff had been roped in to help. My kids ran off and disappeared with their friends immediately. I felt like a spare wheel.

My fortunes changed when I was distracted by noticing the Head of the PA negotiating with the men who had been hired to turn up with the giant inflatable hamster balls that children could get inside and roll around, also known as 'Zorbs'. She was trying to hand over tickets and sort out a system but it looked like chaos, she was already mobbed by children who angling for the first go while the balls were being inflated.

Zorb in motion

Seeing an opening, I swooped.

"Need any help?" I asked innocently.

The head of the PA was efficient;

"Um, why don't you go and stand over there and get all the children to follow you" she said, "then get them to queue up and group into bunches of five. We want the balls to start over there so that they can roll down the hill."

I took up my position in full sun without a sunhat, but not before first trying (and failing) to steal a stake and ropes queuing system from another, less popular ride (that stallholder was most indignant). Undaunted I strode off to my position like a pied piper with children following and arranged some rounders posts for effect. After I'd got the children into sort of a rough queue that they kept falling out of in boredom, I stood awkwardly at the top of the hill wondering what to do. The hamster balls were still being laboriously inflated - it was taking ages. Undaunted I wrestled the ticketing system and float from the head of the PA's able teenage assistant and started selling advance tickets furiously. The problem was that when I'd sold all the tickets and the first ball turned up, there was a scrum of children all claiming that they were first. Using the numbering on the tickets was also hopeless becuase they all wanted to go with their friends.

"Have you got any kind of system going here?" One dad asked pointedly.

Why anyone would want to climb inside and inflatable ball in the midday sun, then roll down with four friends tumbling on top of them was beyond me, but boy - they kept coming. It soon became clear that we were NOT going to be using the harnesses that were inside the balls. I had to group the children roughly by age mates to prevent crushing, fortunately to some extent they did this themselves. Some protective parents looked concerned. One dad (but only one) pulled out his crying child from the ball and told me that he "didn't think it was really suitable for the younger ones".

loading zorb

Hey ho. Meanwhile, I was having a ball - literally. Yes, I had also forgotten to bring my hat so I was burning up, it was hot, no shade - my own children kept running up to me every five minutes asking for money for other rides and stands and I was getting a little confused between the PA money and my own - but at least I had a job! I was manhandling children in and out of the balls (some quite heavy), getting them to take off their shoes - was given responsibility of holding the odd bag or pair of glasses as they rolled, trying to make sure the balls didn't crush the tree sapling that was in the way and all the while shouting at the top of my voice;

"Look out Below!" as the two children filled balls went hurtling down the hill ready to knock down innocent passers-by. Then,
"Push harder, put your back into it!" when they had to roll it back up again.

I chatted to other kids in the queue while they patiently waited, sold more tickets, counselled smaller ones who had bought tickets but suddenly (and understandably) had second thoughts about getting in, put an emergency call into the chief organiser when I ran low on tickets or high on cash. I was in heaven.

As usual, when a reliever turned up, I wouldn't go - when I did finally hand over, I kept popping back to see if she was okay, only to find that she had implemented a much better queueing and ticketing system than me..I guess I should have simply been grateful that nobody suffered any broken bones.

As I put my feet up in the evening and bit into some lemon tart, I had the warm and noticeably smug feeling wash over me of a good job well done. Roll on next year...ha ha..

Reading books and visitor season

2011-11-02T09:26:00.005+03:00

I'm ashamed to say that it's been ages since I've actually read a book. Following the Eurozone crisis and the local news avidly, then reading lifestyle columns online is one thing - but getting inspired and lost inside a book is something else - and much better for the soul I imagine. Plus they say that you can't write without reading - so that's where I'm going wrong!! - I say to myself...

So, I went off to the library yesterday and got 'The Hare with Amber Eyes' by Edmund de Waal and am already totally stuck in. I recognised the book cover from a magazine profile and grabbed it hungrily from the shelf. From what I can make out so far, it's a family history woven around a collection of inherited Japanese netsuke which crosses continents; Europe and Japan, and generations. Review here. My only problem now is a husband who likes to snap the light of as soon as his head hits the pillow - so I'm having to find stolen moments to read during the day.

In the meantime, we are all entering the expat 'visitor season' that will reach its climax at Christmas but for many people may well trail on until February or March next year. Having had a wet week or two here in Nairobi with accompanying frequent power cuts and dreadful traffic, the sun is now very definitely shining, the sky is blue and this week my parents-in-law arrive, followed closely by my own parents - both sets keen to escape the English winter gloaming for as long as possible.. They generally arrive pale faced, then do lots of sleeping and read copious numbers of books while here - and where normally I'd make a quick sandwich or instant noodles to be eaten by my computer at lunchtime when the kids are in school, it's now my duty to put my book to one side, step up the in-house catering stakes and get organised.

Last night we realised that we'd got the date wrong of my parents-in-law arrival. It's not the first time we've done this - my parents once had to call us from Dar es Salaam airport when they got here one sweltering February morning to say 'just wondering if you are on your way? Are you collecting us? My husband dropped everything at work and there was a frightful scuffle at home as we rushed to get beds made and flowers put in the guest bedroom. So we realised last night that the parents-in-law are getting here tomorrow morning, not Friday - and I've invited friends for supper the same evening...(something I'm rarely organised or energetic enough to do). Not sure where we are all going to sit. Oh well. A friend suggested hiring a freelance cook - I'm sorely tempted.

I wonder if I can take my book to my daughter's rounders match this afternoon?

My husband was sent the links to these two old (circa 1990s) French & Saunders comedy skits on expat wives - horribly un-politically correct - but just had to share! WARNING - EXPLICIT CONTENT, SOME VIEWERS MAY FIND OFFENSIVE.