OK, I’m so far behind I’m not sure where to begin. Returning to the brief update style:
I’m starting to think I hit the jackpot when it comes to being in the right place at the right time for lessons in diplomacy, for a few reasons-
(1) I was in the Middle East for the big speech made by Obama in Egypt on Israel/Palestine, which redefined that status quo on our approach to the Middle East, and then hopped over to Kenya for when he traveled as President to Africa for the first time, also establishing his approach the region by using Kenya as the punching bag on corruption and inept governments. After eight years of the world seething with anger at American policies, it was part relief, part fascination at the reactions of the people around me as this administration began defining its foreign policy legacy (although they are quick to state words need to be followed by actions).---Awesome statement by John Brennan concerning the foundation goals on which Obama's foreign policy are built here. Sample:
"Rather than looking at allies and other nations through the narrow prism of terrorism—whether they are with us or against us—the administration is now engaging other countries and peoples across a broader range of areas. Rather than treating so many of our foreign affairs programs—foreign assistance, development, democracy promotion—as simply extensions of the fight against terrorists, we will do these things—promote economic growth, good governance, transparency and accountability—because they serve our common interests and common security; not just in regions gripped by violent extremism, but around the world."
(2) The Pope made his long-awaited trip to the Holy City, and while I’m not Catholic/religious, even I can appreciate the significance the visit held, watching the numerous papal flags doting the sky-line in the Jewish state. Then Hillary Clinton stopped in Nairobi for a few days for the AGOA (Africa Growth and Opportunity Act) talks, making the ceremonial tour of the poor visit to Kibera (good articles about that here and here). Part of me hopes she sunk a heel in the leftovers of a flying toilet on the way to her snazzy motorcade of over 40 cars, to highlight the extreme economic disparity that exists here- and how important it is for the United States and this administration to do its part in following through on the promises of transparency, accountability, and economic growth- particularly in dealing with a government in a country where the average citizen pays 30% of its income in bribes to officials to receive services they should be getting for free.
(3) Seeing the reaction on the ground of these major diplomatic events was truly eye-opening when it comes to seeing how the Rest sees the West. Undoubtedly, there is that wave of optimism following Obama's election (more in Kenya than in Israel- they still aren't happy with the US stance on settlements. Homes I drove by everyday on my way to work in the Sheikh Jarrah neighborhood just had their residents, who had occupied them since the '67 war, evicted for Jewish settlers to move in). Yet at the same time, all that has happened so far is a facelift- and most people recognize the need for substance before they can be won over. And when it comes to relations betweent the developing world and developed world, we are going to have to take a harder look at our relationship, even outside of following through on policies (althouh obvi, this is the biggy). Both in Israel and Kenya, when asking about the visit of the Pope and Secretary of State respectively, most people just gripped about the extreme security and traffic jams that they caused, or the amount of tax-payer dollars it was costing for Hillary's motorcade, shutting down entire major streets, causing hold ups all over Nairobi- while at the same time, water prices are sky-rocketing as supply wains, and power is being rationed all over the city, with every neighborhood facing blackouts two days a week. When it comes to aid workers and diplomats, they see the armed body guards, gated communities, and unwillingness to learn the language.They see the camera crew coming in their fancy SUVs, rolled up windows with air-conditioning, and representatives of aid organizations refusing to shake hands with someone in Kibera because their hands might be dirty (that one threw me for a loop). How are they supposed to respond when our levels of security demonstrate such mistrust towards the people we live among, building a barrier of fear? What does it say when aid workers spend more time at conferences with the moneyed-elite rather than in Kibera?
Being in these two places during these major diplomatic shifts has taught me the value of a strong, effective policy goals- but it is going to take the concerted effort of those of all walks of life representing us in other countries to truly change the image now projected. Engaging as partners, equals, and world neighbors rather than patting ourselves on the backs for handing out money and trumpeting our philanthropic ventures, while holding a latte (don't get me wrong- have all the lattes you want; I love frozen mochas. Just don't flaunt your latte-a-day lifestyle in the face of those who can't afford running water). Rather than seeing the aid dollars we are shelling out, we (the West) need to see the relationships- who they are with, their condition, and what they are building together. Ignorance concerning the people we choose to work with just doesn't cut it anymore.
Last week, I was chatting with three guys, maybe around 22, after a forum Jamii Ya Kibera held in the village of Lindi concerning poverty. Much of the forum had focused on how they, as individuals, could change their situation- I'll save some of the things I learned for another post. Of these three guys, two had started businesses selling things, and one was trying to find money to finish school. But what struck me about the conversation afterwards was the question they asked me, with such force and earnesty: What are we doing wrong? What else can we do? I didn't have an answer, left completely speechless. What can they do when they have to pay bribes to get a job? When over 50% of Kibera is unemployed? When school is privatized and fees are astronomical in comparison to the average paycheck? This is where the relationships need to happen- partnerships so there is something else they can do, because I really want to answer that question.
Well that quickly turned into a tirade. Sorry. This summer has been a wealth of learning experiences, shaping and reshaping my opinions and stances- and I'm sure that with each new experience they will continue to do so. Also, disclaimer on my part, this is not a generalization of all, but a reflection on what I've been exposed to. In both Israel and Kenya, I saw the drastic repercussions governments can have on the population because of distorted policies and approaches. There is no 'saving' that needs to be done in the long-term-, but evaluation and action on the part of these countries-where do their interests lie now, and where should they lie in the future. But as always, easier said than done. The pyramids weren't built overnight....(insert: irony).
4 days left.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Circle of Life
Last week, I traveled northward to Hell’s Gate National Park, which is near Naivasha, for a day-and-a-half vacation with two Canadians and a Midwesterner. After an early wake-up call, we caught a matatu on River Road, the main drag through one of Nairobi’s poorest areas. After a few hours drive, we ended up in Naivasha, hopped on another matatu for 40 minutes to make our way to Fisherman’s Camp, our night accommodations on Lake Naivasha.
The drive up was largely uneventful, minus the beautiful sights- north of Nairobi, the drive takes you through forests seemingly out-of-place in stereotypical Africa, followed by the breathtaking views as you enter the Central Rift Valley. The Rift Valley holds significant ecological and historical importance in Kenya, a testimony to the changing animal and human population dynamics- before the arrival of the Europeans, it was dominated by the infamous Maasai, and is home to the Kalenjins (meaning ‘I tell you’), who are mostly farmers. The Rift Valley in general has been central to Kenya’s ethnic conflicts, even before the 2008 post-election violence. Former President Moi, known for entrenching corruption and ethnic-preference in the civil service during his long rule, is a Kalenjin- during the latter part of his time in power, the non-Kilenjin groups faced ethnic-cleansing in the run up to the 1992 and 1997 elections (the first multi-party elections post-independence), with the Kikuyu (both the previous President Kenyatta’s and the current President Kibuki’s ethnic group) being the main victims. Unsurprisingly, when Kibuki came to power, the Kalenjin of the Rift Valley felt targeted by the Kibuki administration. (Sorry, I can't not talk about this stuff...)
On the drive from Naivasha to Fisherman’s Camp and Hell’s Gate, we passed numerous greenhouses- Naivasha is home to a flourishing flower industry that exports to Europe, which was also apparent by the barrack-looking homes lining the road, occupied by the farm workers. It felt like home in Nairobi the minute the children starting yelling ‘How are you?’ to the wazungu in unending chorus from their homes.
Descending from the road to Fisherman’s Camp was like entering a haven, untold years-old trees extending their branches to cover a complete blanket of shade. Monkeys were jumping from tree to tree, and giant birds swooping to the ground. The camp is on the shores of Lake Naivasha, home to hippos- which was apparent by the numerous signs and the electric fence that switched on at 6:30 pm, warning of the world’s most dangerous animal (sadly, I didn’t get to see any of them). We stayed in a banda, and enjoyed a walk out on a precarious wooden walkway on the lake, further romanticized by a mountain backdrop; just beyond gorgeous.
We picked up some bikes and a guide (Marco!) at Fisherman’s Camp, to begin a 6 hour, 30 meter bike ride to and through Hell’s Gate National Park. So, these bikes were of a questionable nature, clearly showing the years of wear (I’m still sore a week later from the barely existent seat). It also probably didn’t help that one of the guys setting the pace is a cyclist…
Hell’s Gate National Park is what used to be a freshwater lake in prehistoric times, and the former shores form what is now Njorowa’s Gorge. Riding a bike through it was humbling- the massively expansive red walls, unending plains, and most spectacularly, how close you were to the wildlife- what was absolutely wonderful about Hell’s Gate is the sheer proximity between human and animal, which is harder to get on a typical safari. We rode past zebras, gazelles, water buffalo, giraffes, and Lion King warthogs (although none of them sang Hakuna Matata for me). In true Circle of Life-style, we stumbled upon an eagle finishing up his baby-gazelle meal, leaving the head for us. I also got to rock climb Fischer’s Tower, which is this giant skinny mountain in the middle of an open plain, a volcanic plug, or the remains of a former volcano. The numerous holes punctuating the side of it made it an easy climb, but exhilarating nonetheless to say I climbed in Kenya.
The bike-ride took us to a ravine, which a barely distinguishable path that required jumping and strategic straddling over 6 m deep water on an hour-long hike. We crossed paths with hot springs, and saw beautiful views from the look-out. Marco, a man of few but weighty words, had fun paining the wazungu up with red Maasai warrior paint.
The bike-ride was a little tougher back, since my butt was sufficiently sore and legs wobbly and tired, but every minute was worth it. Finishing up the day with a campfire, I slept like a baby underneath my malaria bed net.
It was a wonderful break from wonderful mixture of feces, exhaust, and trash of Kibera and Nairobi, and it was also great to see another side of Kenya- a testimony to the diversity of experiences, background, and history that make this country so intriguing (and hence, why I’m having a blast).
I realized I’ve been really bad about describing vacations and touristy stuff throughout the summer, so hopefully this was okay in making up for my previous failures- Kilifi and Mombasa will be in a separate post coming soon.
Less than two weeks before US touchdown, three weeks before heading home to the Southern part of Heaven- and the excitement of being at Carolina (and terror at the fact its my senior year) are setting in. I am SO unprepared for the whole real-life thing, demonstrated by the spontaneous, off the top of my head, name I gave the word document compiling post-grad plans—‘for when my life ends.’ I’m going to work on the whole optimism thing.
I'm getting lucky with the internet. Pics coming in t-minus 15 minutes.
The drive up was largely uneventful, minus the beautiful sights- north of Nairobi, the drive takes you through forests seemingly out-of-place in stereotypical Africa, followed by the breathtaking views as you enter the Central Rift Valley. The Rift Valley holds significant ecological and historical importance in Kenya, a testimony to the changing animal and human population dynamics- before the arrival of the Europeans, it was dominated by the infamous Maasai, and is home to the Kalenjins (meaning ‘I tell you’), who are mostly farmers. The Rift Valley in general has been central to Kenya’s ethnic conflicts, even before the 2008 post-election violence. Former President Moi, known for entrenching corruption and ethnic-preference in the civil service during his long rule, is a Kalenjin- during the latter part of his time in power, the non-Kilenjin groups faced ethnic-cleansing in the run up to the 1992 and 1997 elections (the first multi-party elections post-independence), with the Kikuyu (both the previous President Kenyatta’s and the current President Kibuki’s ethnic group) being the main victims. Unsurprisingly, when Kibuki came to power, the Kalenjin of the Rift Valley felt targeted by the Kibuki administration. (Sorry, I can't not talk about this stuff...)
On the drive from Naivasha to Fisherman’s Camp and Hell’s Gate, we passed numerous greenhouses- Naivasha is home to a flourishing flower industry that exports to Europe, which was also apparent by the barrack-looking homes lining the road, occupied by the farm workers. It felt like home in Nairobi the minute the children starting yelling ‘How are you?’ to the wazungu in unending chorus from their homes.
Descending from the road to Fisherman’s Camp was like entering a haven, untold years-old trees extending their branches to cover a complete blanket of shade. Monkeys were jumping from tree to tree, and giant birds swooping to the ground. The camp is on the shores of Lake Naivasha, home to hippos- which was apparent by the numerous signs and the electric fence that switched on at 6:30 pm, warning of the world’s most dangerous animal (sadly, I didn’t get to see any of them). We stayed in a banda, and enjoyed a walk out on a precarious wooden walkway on the lake, further romanticized by a mountain backdrop; just beyond gorgeous.
We picked up some bikes and a guide (Marco!) at Fisherman’s Camp, to begin a 6 hour, 30 meter bike ride to and through Hell’s Gate National Park. So, these bikes were of a questionable nature, clearly showing the years of wear (I’m still sore a week later from the barely existent seat). It also probably didn’t help that one of the guys setting the pace is a cyclist…
Hell’s Gate National Park is what used to be a freshwater lake in prehistoric times, and the former shores form what is now Njorowa’s Gorge. Riding a bike through it was humbling- the massively expansive red walls, unending plains, and most spectacularly, how close you were to the wildlife- what was absolutely wonderful about Hell’s Gate is the sheer proximity between human and animal, which is harder to get on a typical safari. We rode past zebras, gazelles, water buffalo, giraffes, and Lion King warthogs (although none of them sang Hakuna Matata for me). In true Circle of Life-style, we stumbled upon an eagle finishing up his baby-gazelle meal, leaving the head for us. I also got to rock climb Fischer’s Tower, which is this giant skinny mountain in the middle of an open plain, a volcanic plug, or the remains of a former volcano. The numerous holes punctuating the side of it made it an easy climb, but exhilarating nonetheless to say I climbed in Kenya.
The bike-ride took us to a ravine, which a barely distinguishable path that required jumping and strategic straddling over 6 m deep water on an hour-long hike. We crossed paths with hot springs, and saw beautiful views from the look-out. Marco, a man of few but weighty words, had fun paining the wazungu up with red Maasai warrior paint.
The bike-ride was a little tougher back, since my butt was sufficiently sore and legs wobbly and tired, but every minute was worth it. Finishing up the day with a campfire, I slept like a baby underneath my malaria bed net.
It was a wonderful break from wonderful mixture of feces, exhaust, and trash of Kibera and Nairobi, and it was also great to see another side of Kenya- a testimony to the diversity of experiences, background, and history that make this country so intriguing (and hence, why I’m having a blast).
I realized I’ve been really bad about describing vacations and touristy stuff throughout the summer, so hopefully this was okay in making up for my previous failures- Kilifi and Mombasa will be in a separate post coming soon.
Less than two weeks before US touchdown, three weeks before heading home to the Southern part of Heaven- and the excitement of being at Carolina (and terror at the fact its my senior year) are setting in. I am SO unprepared for the whole real-life thing, demonstrated by the spontaneous, off the top of my head, name I gave the word document compiling post-grad plans—‘for when my life ends.’ I’m going to work on the whole optimism thing.
I'm getting lucky with the internet. Pics coming in t-minus 15 minutes.
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