I'm in the Huntsville paper!

Here's the article published about me in the local paper. In retrospect I'm not entirely comfortable with it. I'm disagree about the part stating rural Kenyans know more about American politics then me. Many Kenyans do know a good bit about American politics but the way the editor phrased it is not entirely accurate. Also, the editor suggests that peace in Kenya could be a result of the large number of Quakers, but the reason for peace among tribes is much larger than the work of a single Christian denomination.

African posting with Peace Corps: No elephants, lots to learn
By KAY CAMPBELL
Times Faith & Values Editor
kay.campbell@htimes.com

He's embarrassed now to admit it, but Joseph McMahan had hoped, at least every now and then, a herd of elephants might step through the yard of his little house near a rainforest in western Kenya.

McMahan knows the "Lion King" stereotype many Americans have of Africa isn't accurate. He knows most African people have given up traditional cultural life except for festivals.

But no elephants? Not even a monkey or two?

"It's completely not like that," McMahan said last week during a two-week furlough at his parents' Huntsville home. "Where I live in Kenya is fairly developed with little towns and cities all over. And the people are very well educated. They know more about American politics than I do."

McMahan is serving a two-year Peace Corps assignment. He works as an educator and marketer for the United Nations Food and Agricultural Organization. No one "works" for the Peace Corps, he explained. This U.S . government's international program offers training, health care and support for volunteers who are then assigned to non-profit organizations with programs in developing countries around the world.

McMahan works with the Kakamega Farmer Field School Network to offer resources on growing crops, developing cash crops and connecting farmers with corporations who will buy those crops.

While most farmers can grow the food they need to survive, he said, they need a way to raise cash to pay for their children's high school education and health care.

In his "off" time, McMahan has started two projects on his own, one to get grants to help a network of women growing chickens for eggs and meat, the other to get wheelchairs for the handicapped people he sees in his village dragging themselves along in the dust.

"It breaks your heart to see that," McMahan said. "Some use potholders to protect their hands."

McMahan said he is thriving on the work. Ever since mission trips as a teen with groups from St. Thomas Episcopal church, he's felt drawn to the joy of doing work that mattered with people who needed help. Ever since a post-college European back-packing trip, he's felt lured to places different from his home town.

The Peace Corps offered him, he said, a combination of both service and adventure.

It's an adventure he very nearly didn't have.

A degree from Auburn University led to a good job here in Huntsville with Adtran. Very shortly, he was paying for a car, a house, contemplating a serious romantic relationship. One day it hit him that if he didn't investigate the Peace Corps, an idea he'd had for years, he would be drawn into an inescapable orbit of job-marriage-kids.

"One day I realized that if I didn't leave now, it was not going to happen," McMahan said. "In retrospect, it was probably the best decision I ever made."

His time in Africa has taught him a lot. Never again, he said, will he take clean water flowing out of a tap for granted. Never again will he take free high schools for granted or health care he can access because of insurance.

And never again will he look at his own country in the same way, he said.

"When I tell my neighbors that in the United States you can live in an apartment and not know your neighbors, they say, 'How can that happen?'" McMahan said. "In Kenya, people look out for each other. It's a very community-based culture."

Working with the people of the Kakamega District in Western Kenya, he said, has reminded him of what really matters.

"In this country (the U.S.), we've reached the point where we define a lot of who we are through our material possessions," McMahan said. "In Kenya, they don't have so much materially, but they are very strong spiritually."

Kenya, which is predominantly Christian, has one of the world's largest concentrations of Quakers according to the CIA's World Fact Book. It might be a result of that peaceful religion, or perhaps a natural development of the Kenyans' own personalities, but McMahan has noticed something else he wishes the world could learn from the Kenyans: Peaceful co-habitation with diverse types of people.

"In Kenya, you have more than 40 individual traditional cultures, each with its own language and traditions in a country whose borders were arbitrarily drawn by the British," he said. "The fact that they have been able to co-exist peacefully despite their differences * I think that's kind of unique."

Bike Ride through Tea Plantations and the Masai Mara Game Park

Before I get up to speed on where things stand since I’ve returned to Kenya, here’s an overdue recap from December. I traveled a bit during the last few weekends before coming to the states. One trip, a bike ride through the Nandi Hills, was fantastic. Another, a weekend in the Masai Mara Game Reserve, was pretty much a disaster, although it definitely could have been worse.

This time I’ll start with the good stuff. A few volunteer friends of mine are living in the nearby town of Kapsabet. One of them, Adrienne, has wanted to go on a cycle trip for months now and we finally ended up with a free weekend to do it. Adrienne and her friend Justina were able to round up an extra bike for me, and I met them for the weekend to cycle around the Nandi Hills.

As we began our ride I knew I was in for a treat. My mountain biking friends in the states (I hope at least one of you is reading this) need to seriously consider visiting me in Kenya. We cycled through rolling hills covered with tea fields for over 50 miles. The fields seemed endless and often stretched to the horizon. It was strange looking across the hills and seeing only two colors: bright tea-leaf green and sky blue. It looked exactly like the Windows XP wallpaper. This was occasionally interrupted by a spots of vibrant colors, where workers wearing kangas were scattered throughout the fields harvesting tea leaves. At one point I stopped to take a photograph, and a nearby worker demonstrated how to properly harvest the tea. The workers are paid by the 5 shillings a kilogram, and the rapid, fluid motions they use to pick the tea leaves is astounding. An experienced tea picker can gather around 12kgs of tea leaves in a day, meaning that, when working very hard and with a lot of experience, they earn 60 shillings (80 cents) per day.

After cycling on a remarkably nice road (Ex President Moi is from the same tribe and his favoritism shows), we turned off the asphalt to a private tea plantation. After a brief chat with the guard he allowed us through the gate. One of the nicer aspects of being white in Kenya is that, although guards and gates are everywhere, a mzungu is rarely questioned and usually allowed to enter with no questions asked. The same preferential treatment does not apply to the locals, and even black Americans are stopped for questions when the white ones are waved right through. I don’t agree with the selective treatment but I don’t complain either.

We entered the tea plantation to visit a scenic overlook and a waterfall that a friend informed us was worth the visit. We asked the guard if we were at the right place and he told us that yes, we were, but it was a 10km ride away. Something I have long since learned is that the people in Kenya’s rural areas are rarely accurate judges of distance (or time for that matter). We decided to risk it anyway, and after riding for over an hour at a fast clip, we came across a tea worker and asked if we were finally close to the overlook. He pointed up a steep hill and assured us, yet again, that it was only about 10km away. At least the second time around was more accurate. We got a bit lost along the way and wandered down several wrong trails to be redirected by helpful tea pickers, but eventually we arrived at a scenic vista overlooking thousands of acres of tea fields.

The tea plantation was remarkable in that all the workers actually live on the farm. There are small villages scattered throughout the plantation offering housing, basic amenities, and even a primary school. There is even a matatu service that carries people from village to village and to work in the fields. The plantation itself was enormous and within it were at least five villages with thousands of people. I was told that the entire plantation is privately owned and I’d imagine whoever owns the thousands of acres of tea plants is probably doing alright for themselves.

From the overlook the view across the tea fields was spectacular. After some exhausted admiration (climbing to the viewpoint on a bicycle was a challenge) we walked down a nearby trail to a large waterfall with a cave set behind it. We walked to the inside of the falls and looked through the water to another panoramic of rolling green fields.

All in all the bike ride was a success and once again I realized there’s few things better in the world than a scenic cycle trip with friends. However, you can’t win every time, and my adventures at the Masai Mara the weekend before drove that point home.

Since I’ve come to Kenya I’ve wanted to go the Masai Mara and see the Serengeti plains. Most of my Peace Corps friends have visited the park but for my first year on site I never managed to find the time. A few months ago I was in Kisumu with Kristy, a friend doing primate research in the Kakamega Forest. While in Kisumu we ran into a woman named Janka volunteering at an orphanage near Migori. I told Janka about my experiences working at the BJCF orphanage and she extended an invite for Kristy and me to go with her group to the Masai Mara over a weekend. She was providing a driver, doing all the planning, and keeping it on a small budget so we agreed to tag along. Kristy asked if she could bring her friend Karen, also working in the forest and she was welcomed to come along as well.

As the weekend approached I began to feel a bit nervous about the trip. Although December technically marks the beginning of the dry season there had been unseasonable heavy rain and flooding throughout Kenya. I was determined to see the Mara anyway and at the last minute we decided to risk it. We agreed to meet in Kisumu at 10 but we were off to a late start. The trip to Migori turned out to be cramped and miserable. The weather was deceptively nice in the morning but by early afternoon the rains returned. I was sitting on the front bench of the matatu right by the door, and every time someone would cram inside rain would drip all over me. Also, the tout would stand outside and get thoroughly soaked, then when the matatu was filled to max capacity he would somehow find a way to cram himself in the car and sit halfway in my lap. After hours of tedious driving we made it to Migori. I was muddy, soaking wet (as were my bags), and in a bad mood. Some days I find the absurdity of Kenya’s public transport hilarious but I just wasn’t in the mood to laugh at it.

We arrived in Migori at 6pm and we still had an hour of travel to meet with Janka. The only available transport into the interior, where her orphanage was located, was via “cockroach”. These are ugly white station wagons that run back and forth from Mirogi town. We asked the fare for the ride to the orphanage and we were told 300 shillings a person. It was an unfair and high price but since there were no other vehicles that late in the day we were in no position to bargain. We sat in the back assuming that, between the three of us and our bags, there would be no more room for anyone else. However, in Kenya there is always room, and soon we found ourselves suffocating five deep in the back row. In the trunk behind us were another four people, and three people were sitting in the front. That’s 12 full-grown adults in a five seat vehicle. Assuming that was everyone, we expected to depart, only to have the driver’s side door open and someone else scoot into the seat and smush the three people in the front over to the left. The final occupant turned out to be our driver, and how he planned to shift gears with such a mass of people in the front row I have no idea. He reeked of alcohol and was visibly drunk, and it was then we decided enough was enough. Even in Kenya you have to draw the line somewhere. We shoved our way back out of the car and demanded a refund, and the man we paid denied ever receiving the money. By then I was furious and made an unfortunate scene that I regretted later. Every once in awhile things get to be too much here and my temper flares. It’s a side of me I didn’t know I had and it’s also something I really try to work on. I had actually been doing much better until this point. After grabbing the guy by the collar and demanding my money while Kristy took his car keys from him, I did get most of my money back. In the end I was reimbursed and we didn’t have to ride in the deathtrap cockroach, so things could be worse, but I felt like I overreacted. I made a big scene over around $14, but being swindled like that really ticked me off.

Luckily Migori was on the way to the Masai Mara, so after a brief phone call Janka and her crew agreed to pick us up the next day. I have done plenty of work with the BJCF orphanage and we were able to stay for free in their guest house in Migori. Exhausted, filthy, and in a genuinely bad mood we crashed for the night, if nothing else at least excited for our trip the following morning to the game park.

The plan for Janka, her driver, and the other volunteer traveling with them was to get to the Mara on Saturday and leave Sunday. That doesn’t leave a lot of time in the park, but Janka is working only three hours from the park and I assumed that with an early start we could get two full days. That was not to be. Janka, her driver, and her friend arrived to pick us from the orphanage at 11. Migori is only one hour from their home, so why they waited until 10 to leave for the day was beyond me. However, I wasn’t driving and it was out of my control, and so I let it go. As soon as we boarded the vehicle Janka informed us that she just had to run a few errands in town. This turned out to mean doing all the shopping for her food and supplies for the trip, as well as waiting in a two hour ATM line to get money. I was fuming but thankfully kept my mouth shut. Finally, at two o’clock we were packed and ready to travel. The road from Migori to the Mara is only two hours away and we assumed there would at least be time for one short game drive before setting up camp for the night. All was not lost.

Or was it? We were informed at the last minute that the road to the Mara from Migori was closed. A bridge was down and there was no way to pass. The only other way to go involved a two hour detour, thus doubling the length of the trip. We arrived at the park entrance around 6pm with just enough time to set up a campsite. The vehicle we drove in was a Land Cruiser with a bench in the back and tiny sliding windows, so there wasn’t much to see and I felt ill by the time we arrived. The entire day had been exceptionally nice with little rain and mostly blue skies, but once we parked at the camp and prepared to set up our tents the rains came. We tried to fashion up a large green tarp to cover the tents, but several eyelets ripped off before we finally rigged it up to keep us somewhat dry.

Beyond the unfortunate travel experience there was tension between people as well. Janka and her friend apparently were not getting along so great. Janka’s friend (I forget her name), gave me a long story that I didn’t really care to hear about concerning the difficulties they had been having. Two Americans randomly assigned to work together in the bush for a six month stint apparently doesn’t always end in a life long friendship. Also, Kristy’s friend Karen was sullen and unfriendly, particular to me, the entire trip. I never figured out why and confronted her about it and she said nothing was wrong. She’s a bit anti-social and was like that from the first moment I met her, so I tried not to take it too personally.

The next day we finally got everyone moving and ready to go around 9. I’m never doing a camping trip again without making sure the people who are coming are actually willing to get moving when there are lots of things to do in a short amount of time. Our park fees were a bit expensive, even as residence, but we thought we had an entire day in the park. Also, a very friendly guide from the night before told us we would be able to get out of the vehicle for pictures as long as we stayed nearby and there were no dangerous animals around, so I was excited about finally starting a game drive.

We debated getting a guide, which is optional, and decided that it would be a better idea in terms of finding the more elusive animals. That proved true. With the help of the guide we saw lions, elephants, rhinos, giraffe, buffalo, zebra, cheetahs, foxes, ostrich, and plenty more. The only problem was the guide was rude, knew nothing about the animals or the park except how to follow other tour vehicles, and, despite what the nicer guide had said the day before, wouldn’t let us out of the vehicle. Even when there was no dangerous animal anywhere to be seen he wouldn’t let us as much as lean out a window, and as I said earlier the tiny sliding windows in the camper shell on the back of the Land Cruiser were pathetic, so we were taking turns peering out of them. Janka was not happy with the way our guide treated us and made sure he knew it. In return he told us that our tickets expired at noon, which I was fairly certain they did not, and we had to be out of the park if we didn’t want to renew them.

Despite all this something else I didn’t like about the Mara was the enormous amount of traffic. For every interesting animal there were at least five vehicles full of tourists in a circle around it. The vehicles are supposed to stay on the marked trails but they drive anywhere they want to, leaving muddy tread marks all across the savanna plains. At one place where a cheetah was hunched, ready to sprint after a pack of zebras, yet another vehicle would come rumbling up to the animal and distract it as it looked as if had been just about ready to pounce. All in all, even though the game is less diverse, I liked Hell’s Gate and Crater Lake better. You are able to walk on foot and there are almost no tourists. However, I do think that a Mara trip, when properly planned and with a decent vehicle and guide, could be a lot of fun. I plan to have another go at it next year when my parents come in hopes I gain a better impression.

So the 8 hour ride back to Kakamega was equally miserable, but I think I’ve already pretty much written the gist of it. I don’t consider the trip a failure because I did see the Mara, and the entire journey ran me under $50. You win some and lose some but there’s definitely something to be said for knowing who you’re traveling with and spending a few extra bucks to do things right.

Pics from November and December 2006

I should have done this while home over the holidays, but between becoming briefly addicted to MySpace and spending most of my time with friends and family, I just didn't fit it in. Anyway, I'm in Nairobi now and the web is at least somewhat faster than Kakamega, so here's a few pics of various adventures and projects over the last few months.

A cheetah from my brief visit to the Masai Mara park in early December. Every time she was about to pounce another vehicle full of tourists would pull up and distract her.

Tea workers on a plantation in the Nandi Hills. I passed this while on a 50 mile bike ride during the second weekend of December.

The bike ride through the Nandi Hills ended with a panoramic view and this water fall.

These creepy animal costumes were worn by some guys who I imagine were paid a few shillings to dance around outside the supermarket. They were smoking cigarettes in their suits and would blow the smoke out the eyeholes. You don't see that at Disney World.

The Kibera slums outside Nairobi: 800,000 people living in less than 3 square miles.

A Lion at the Masai Mara park. I was just a few feet away and snapped the picture out a car window.

One of the four disabled self help groups I'm working with. This is the only one that has previously been funded and the people remaining have been on a waiting list for several years. I expect the link for the fundraiser to be posted by next weekend!

A sketchy bridge in Central Province. It's at the base of a valley near a volunteer's site