Kenyan Pundit

This is something that I would generally have kept off-record for a number of reasons including the fact that I don’t want to come across as having a big ego and I’d like to give the BBC panel organizers the benefit of the doubt. However, I’m have been pretty outspoken about the fact that I’m tired of the Bono’s and Sach’s of this world articulating my views as an African. It’s one of the reasons I’m very quick to respond to media requests for interviews, profiles, etc. (I really could be a media slut) - I think it’s important for Africans to get our views out there. So while I understand that the BBC panel organizers had other considerations to worry about, I’m miffed that the panel turned out to be just another debate of “experts” with the same sound-bites and superficial views of what the issues are.

But first, some context.

A couple of days ago, Hash wrote an interesting post about the OLPC debate and the fact that the debate has generally been conducted by a variety of white men who feel strongly about whether African children would be better off with food in their stomachs or with laptops (OK, I’m being facetious, but most of the debates really boil down to some variation of this).

I was thrilled when I read the post, because the following day I was going to be part of a panel that would address issues around the OLPC debate - my presence on the panel (being that I was not the typical technology, development, or education expert) suggested to me that at least the BBC was trying to get some different perspectives.

The other panelists were:

Abdul Waheed Khan - Assistant Director-General for Communication and Information at the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) in Paris.

John Dada - He is Programs Director, Fantsuam Foundation, Nigeria. The Fantsuam Foundation is sharing and building information for rural development, facilitating the achieving of MDGs in rural Nigeria through ICT-enabled community development.

I was planning to respond to Hash’s post with my experience on the panel. I was going to speak from the perspective of-an-African-parent-who-would-love-to-see-this-in-schools-flaws-in-the-program-notwithstanding and boy-most-African-students-are-sorely-deprived-off-the-opportunity-to-tinker-and-be-creative -and-anything-that-can-change-that-is-a-good-thing (and yes you can work on feeding them at the same time, I don’t see how one negates the other).

But as I said in my previous post, I didn’t get the chance to ruffle feathers and all because I was replaced about 2 hours before the panel was about to be filmed. This after “urgent” emails requesting my participation, and suffering through a bad phone connection to “prep” for the interview. And me stressing about what I would wear since my luggage was still in
Dubai. Who replaced me? A Malaysian professor of medical education who apparently had experience with learning and technology.

Couldn’t they just have had 6 panelists?

Anyway, they offered me the opportunity to ask a question at the end of the debate so that I can at least “get in my perspective.” In 30 seconds? What the hell?

I almost said no. But then I figured I might as well learn to master the art of the subversive sound-bite. I thought I did a pretty good job. Hopefully it doesn’t make it to the cutting floor. Especially after this post.

It could just be a fluke, or bad timing, or the fact that I wasn’t an “expert” or some other really convincing explanation, but my experience got me thinking about just how screwed up things are when it comes to getting in an alternative view of Africa.

Was this a microcosm of what happens with the media all the time? Am I overreacting?

Yes we have blogs, and Global Voices, and progressive media - but lets not kid ourselves - that’s nowhere near the reach of the likes of BBC World.

Hash asks “Will No One Speak for Africa?”

I am wondering “Will No One Let Africa Speak for Itself?”

Popularity: 13% [?]

Several of my virtual and real buddies have received scholarships to attend TED Arusha. So far, all the receipients that I know are male…a trend similar to the Blogging Indaba last year… and I’m curious to know whether there are any women out there who’ve applied for/ received a scholarship to TED. Please leave a comment if so.

Incidentally, the very successful first BarCamp Kenya (congrats Riyaz et. al), appears to very male-dominated, even accounting for the subject matter…no fault of the organizers, because word was put out and everyone encouraged to attend or volunteer to present etc…so again I wonder where are the women?

Popularity: 14% [?]

… maybe it’s just me, but I find it curious that youth from Korogocho can effectively organize and demonstrate against high food prices (and other injustices) at the World Social Forum that was recently held in Nairobi, yet their local Member of Parliament gets away with being AWOL.

What gives?

Popularity: 12% [?]

Disclaimer: I’ve been rather peripatetic since coming back so I’m in essence a quasi-returnee.

Moving on.

Osas yearningly wants to know: Ory advise me first, pretty please, about that enigmatic promise of yours, where you assured that you now can “get home at a decent hour to find a hot meal waiting for you.” Now how do you do that? Do you have a private helicopter (due to the vanishing AMREF millions having been put to good use)? Did you discover a secret underground network, unavailable to ordinary mortals, with quick, clean and spacious speed trains running deep under the feet of ordinary matatu-crammed mortals? Inquiring minds want to know… and not to spend 3 to 3.5 hours daily in Nairobean traffic jams.

Shiroh is uuumm perturbed by the question: Gosh! have you ever lived in Nairobi,we normally have jam only at peak times. At other times it is easy traffic flow. Gather your facts first. M sorry KP to lose on your blog but it is disturbing how some people think we live the hardest lives anyone has ever lived.

Prousette, should I establish a Paypal jar for what I’m about to write next

Osas, I don’t have a helicopter. Yet. And I promise I won’t be scamming AMREF to get one. Also have yet to discover secret underground networks, of the non-political kind that is.

How do I get to work and back home without dealing with the traffic jams?

I’m with Shiroh on this one. In my experience, traffic jam is only at peak times - if you can find a way to avoid rush hour e.g. if your work hours are a bit flexible your commute is much less of a headache. Granted I don’t use public transport to get to work like most Kenyans do..so again no template.

So when I’m working at the office, I leave the house at 8:30 and almost always get there 5-10 minutes before nine and leave work between 6:15 and 6:45 pm, sometimes later when things are hectic but that’s by choice and not because I have a clock to punch (I have workaholic tendencies). Takes about ten - fifteen minutes to get home. I’ve only encountered a really bad jam once in the morning, and that was when Mbagathi was being worked on. If I left the house or work before eight or left work at five, it would be a lot more hectic

Other tips…I refuse to live in the Nairobi ‘burbs. The furthest from town I would ever live is Westlands. That’s what happens when you’ve called Mada your home all your life. Everywhere else seems far. I like being a five minute matatu ride from town on a good day.

And a confession. I hate driving. Really. How bad? I’d always joke that I wouldn’t move back to Nairobi unless I can afford to hire a driver. I can’t afford a full-time driver (I think one needs a car first), but I unapologetically allow myself one extravagance in Nairobi - cabs (plus I’m doing my part to provide employment!). I have a crew of regulars - my daytime/airport guy (Sam) my evening/heng guy (Kamau, Thiong’o is my backup), and my town back to the digz guy. I’ve operated with all of them for the last three years.

I negotiate a flat rate with Kamau and Sam for the work raos. They share the same cab and are the best cab drivers ever. Kamau always comes up with crazy statements…one time we were debating what would be the fastest route to get somewhere he then bursts out “wacha kunikuna meno” [stop scratching my teeth] i.e. stop being a mjuaji passenger…how dare I doubt his ability to navigate Nairobi? How dare I indeed. I should start writing down his aphorisms.

The relationship I have with Sam and Kamau is one of the many things I love about Nairobi. I don’t have to worry about calling them when I’m low on cash, they’ll spot me and vice versa when they’ve run out of change. If I have to go somewhere after work and don’t want to take my laptop with me, they’ll drop it off. If the gas runs out at the digz, they’ll take me to look for gas and install it (because I still haven’t figured that after all this years) etc. etc.

Try doing that in New York.

Popularity: 8% [?]

So when I moved back I had all these grand ambitions of alpha-blogging from a local’s perspective…and then life took over. Plus I’m not as hilarious as Kenyan Prodigal Daughter (where is your book girl?). And I like to maintain my punditing blogging persona.

I’m now reading a book that somewhat captures what the experience has been and I’m thinking maybe I can use some excerpts as a cheap way out. It’s called Maximum City
and I had the pleasure of meeting the author, Suketu Mehta at Poptech. His mom incidentally grew up in Nairobi.

Most of the debate around moving back home centers on practical things like eh, finding jobs (and I will wade into this debate at some point). In my experience, you first have to commit to the idea of going back. Like really commit. No ten year plans. No once I make this much money. Cut the crap. Wake up and say I’m moving back. Then make a plan. Then a plan B and C. You’ll need them. But most important is your desire to move back. Remember how badly you wanted to fly out and all the stints you pulled to make it happen. Do the same. Then don’t get all freaked out about insecurity. Yes, there’s insecurity. But 30 million people including your loved ones put up with insecurity and other inconveniences on a day to day basis. It’s not that deep. Not saying that you won’t have to give up lots of things, like being able to stroll downtown in the evening and shoe shops. Lakini you have SUNSHINE, and sausages, and all the things you miss the minute you board the flight back. It’s all about quality of life. And work. You won’t make as much as you do overseas. Get over it. If you work things out right, you’ll end up doing more meaningful work and get to actually enjoy the office banter and get home at a decent hour to find a hot meal waiting for you. Don’t look for templates. Don’t expect other people’s experience to compare to yours. It all comes back to how determined you are to make things work. Don’t expect to come back and find open arms employment wise. It is a very competitive market…Kenyans are some of the most overqualified people I’ve met. So you need to learn the hustle. It’s not that hard, you do it everyday in the West. And by this I don’t mean having the right connections. When you’re back as a winter bunny spend your days doing more than recovering from hangovers. You’d be surprised at where opportunities can reveal themselves. It’s not in the classifieds. College student? Try and find a way to spend time interning in Kenya. I managed to find a way to work in Kenya almost every year since 1998. I’ve written grants, worked for free, done away with a you-owe-me-something attitude. I can’t tell you just how much it has helped. Relatives relying on you for money? Look a bit closer and you’ll find that in some cases you’ve created a dependency and you’re not the only one in the family earning an income…find a way to spread the load or get people to be independent. I cut back. Drastically. Only soft spot I have is for school fees. And guess what the sky didn’t fall. It was hard and I’m still guilt-stricken but I wondered what would happen if I wasn’t around. I suspect life would go on. And it does.

Wait, this wasn’t the plan. I think I kind of waded into the “eating cake” debate. Plus I sound preachy and on the verge of suggesting a template.

I probably have more to say, but work calls.

I’ll return to the point I was trying to make. Although me I love Nairobi regardless the challenge for me is adjusting to the “details.” In his book, Suketu writes about having to learn again how to stand in line and deal with all the things that will drive you crazy. Rings true in Nairobi as well. Just try to pay an electricity bill or try to do some banking. I’ve been told it takes about a year to get over it and learn to deal. An excerpt:

“We also have to learn again how to stand in line. In Bombay, people are always waiting in line: to vote, to get a flat, to get a job, to get out of the country, to make a railway reservation….And when you get to the front of the line, you are always made conscious that you are inconveniencing all the hundreds and thousands and millions of people behind you. Hurry, hurry; get your business over with. And if you’re next in line, you never stand behind the person at the head of the line; you always stand next to him, as if you were really with him, so that you can occupy the place he vacates with just one sideways step.

All this takes most of our waking time. It is a city hostile to outsiders or nostalgia-stuck returnees. We can muscle our way in with our dollars, but even when the city gives in, it resents us for making it do so. The city is groaning udner the pressure of the 1 million people per square mile. It doesn’t want me any more than the destitute migrant from Bihar, but it can’t kick either of us out. So it makes life uncomfortable for us by guerilla warfare, by constant low-level sniping, by creating small crises every day. All these irriations add up to a murderous rage in your mind, especially when you’ve come from a country where things work better, where institutions are more responsive.”

Popularity: 15% [?]