Food for thought

When I first moved to my apartment, the red roadside kiosk up the hill was selling eggs for five shillings (six cents in USD) a piece.

In late February the price went up to six shillings.

One day in mid-March I went to buy some eggs and they cost seven shillings each. The next day, the price had gone up to eight.

"What?" I asked the Ethiopian kiosk owner, "Yesterday the eggs were seven?"

"I know, I know," he said. "Everything is going up. Bread used to be 25 shillings. Now it's 35. Milk is up too. What can I do?"

There are many factors affecting food prices in Kenya right now. Global prices for fuel, fertilizers and seeds are going up. The economy is struggling since the post-election violence. The rainy and dry seasons are no longer predictable, so farmers are unsure when to plant. And many people in rural areas who grew their own food and/or grew food for market are still displaced from their land.

The changes affect everyone: wholesalers, transporters, farmers, vendors and customers.

The government is promising subsidized fertilizer, but it's not clear how many farmers will benefit from the plan in this planting season.

Here's a short report I did for Voice of America that touches on some of the myriad issues.

It's a little frustrating to attempt to sum up such a big, important issue into a little story. Anybody want to pay me to write 2,000 or more words on it?

First person food

With apologies for being so silent of late, here's a link to some recent work.

Speaking of Mungiki

Another Kenyan blogger, Lost White Kenyan Chick, has a good on-the-ground update about the Mungiki situation these days.

You can read her post here, and here's an excerpt:

I was talking to someone in the morning who lives in Dandora. Now personally I would have said that Dandora was really one of the better areas of Nairobi in which to live. Rents are far from being the cheapest and it is most definitely not a "bad" area of town with minimal violence, thuggery or anything else going down there - even in the post-election skirmishes - but now it seems Dandora is not the place you wish to be calling "home" anymore.

Now it seems that if you live in Dandora, first of all, you'll be lucky if you can find transport at all, as all the matatus (or mini buses) that run around the area into and out of town have been warned off the roads, and those that are operating are charging over 150/- (over US$2) per trip, which when most wanainchi make not much over that in a day is not exactly conducive to bother going to work at all. Then she tells me that all the ladies in the area have been given leaflets telling them what to wear.

It must be a skirt and the length must reach below the knee. Penalty for not following the dress code is a humiliating stripping and public beating.

Last night, SMS's were sent round all over saying that you must leave the city centre by 7.30pm or you shall be killed. Then this morning new SMS's stated that all those who work in the Industrial Area should not go into work.

It's all just fear mongering but hey how much is your life worth, and is it worth ignoring these warnings because by doing so Eric Kiraithe [the police spokesman] says you're doing the right thing ??

The public demands from the Mungiki are that they are mourning the death of the wife of their leader (who is currently inside being entertained at the country's expense), who was shot last week together with her driver, and they believe the police were involved and should be brought to book for it, and that they want some police force group that has been formed to crack down on them all, to be disbanded.

However, the leaflets now circulating on the ground "explaining" this reign of terror go with a slightly different, yet more realistic reasoning, and that is that the "Mungiki" say they have not been paid their "protection" monies from various government ministers for the last few months. They had no part in the general election and therefore gained no rewards from that, and now that the Kikuyus have not taken a majority in the parliament and just to prove how powerful they are, they are going to paralyse operations in Kenya just to show that "all is not normal" just because a cabinet has been named and all is "apparently well".

That said, there is a story in the Standard newspaper today that the Mungiki have ordered members to stop fighting. The call for ceasefire came after Prime Minister Odinga made a public request for the group to stop its protests. Public statements from Mungiki leaders promised to work with Odinga. It's a curious turn of allegiances, since the dominant public perception is that Mungiki is partially aligned with the Kikuyus and the so-called Mt. Kenya Mafia.

But maybe the Mungiki are turning into politicians, shifting allegiances and all. The group has even been holding press conferences over the past week!

"Let them eat cake"

Food has been on my mind a lot lately. Food prices in particular, and food scarcity.

The World Bank, the UN and countless other organizations are attempting to sound the alarm about rising food prices around the globe.

Here in Kenya, the food prices have already risen significantly over the past three months. That inflation is precipitated and exacerbated by domestic politics, climate and many other factors.

An op-ed in Monday's Daily Nation sums it up nicely. Rasna Warah writes:

A researcher at the Institute of Security Studies in South Africa has noted that the impact of the food crisis will be felt most acutely in African countries, where there is already a lot of anger in urban areas around issues such as unemployment and lack of basic services, especially among the poor.


Kenyans are not known to protest over food prices - we tend to take to the streets only to voice our support or opposition to a political party or leader, not because we cannot afford to feed ourselves or our families.


But given our fragile political situation, rising inflation (now at more than 20 per cent), high unemployment, an impending drought and a declining economy, it won't be long before people begin to protest in other ways - through crime, looting and violence.


High food prices can thus lead to other forms of social instability and anarchy. The scenario is too horrific to even imagine.

Peeling the onion

There is a resolution, in principle, on the question of how to shape the Kenyan cabinet. Other questions remain about how these leaders will work together to run government. If it's taken them six weeks to agree on the cabinet matter...

Despite the weekend announcement of the cabinet decision, there are disturbances around the country today. We woke this morning to phone calls and SMSs about fighting in Nairobi neighbourhoods. Word on the street is that the fighting is retaliatory violency following the apparent murder of the wife of the Mungiki leader last week.

Mungiki is tough to define. They're a group with many faces: organized crime, religious sect, Kikuyu-led gang, political agitants for hire. The violence in Kenya that followed the December elections has increased the powerbase of Mungiki. The fighting along tribal lines also stimulated the growth of rival gangs who began by promising protection to members of certain tribes.

So although the cabinet question is resolved for now, this morning's violence is a reminder of the multiple layers of Kenyan politics. Here's hoping not every peel of that onion will bring tears.

Two steps forward, too many steps back

It's been a wildly winding road toward the establishment of a functional government in Kenya.

As Kenyans watch the post-election confusion and violence in Zimbabwe, things are not much brighter at home. Although there are agreements in principle on powersharing in Kenya, the actual act of sharing power seems to be difficult.

The sticking points in the current round of talks are the size of the shared cabinet, and which party will control which portoflios.

As recently as last Friday, there seemed to be an agreement. The cabinet would include 40 seats: 20 for ODM, 20 for PNU. The posts were doled out.

But a meeting on Sunday to finalize the details over five key posts broke down. The questions were over who will run Foreign Affairs, Cabinet Affairs, Local Government, Transport and Energy. The parties did not agree and this week Kenyans are back to: Cabinet, question mark.

As the leaders retreated from face-to-face talks to memos and envoys, protests in a few isolated parts of Kenya turned violent yesterday. Once again, PNU is pointing to the constitution while ODM is protesting that Kibaki's party must abide by the deal signed a month ago. PNU is threatening to dissolve parliament and call for new elections.

As in February, international figures are making public statements calling for a resolution to the dispute.

The Kenyan shilling is falling against the dollar. In a country where inflation is ongoing - where a cabbage that cost 20 shillings in December is now selling for 60 - the political instability is bad news for Kenyans.

If you want to keep track of what kind of agreements have been made, and the reconciliation efforts, here is the site to visit.

8 Months and then some

The mosquitoes woke me up at two and five this morning. Our hot water heater exploded a couple of days ago; I haven't washed my hair since Monday. The frozen shrimp I bought for dinner last night were slightly off. My dinner guests and I are on the watch for food poisoning.

My ever-overloaded backpack just exploded all over Yaya Center. The bottle of sunscreen I was carrying popped out and wheeled through the air, leaving sticky white goo all over me and the counter of the coffee shop where I'm sitting. The French ex-pat down the counter from me is drinking his first Tusker of the morning and looking at me like I couldn't be more crass. 

It's one of those days. You know, the days when Murphy's long arm is meddling in all your business.

And still, somehow, I am laughing. This is what Kenya has done to me. I am just happy here.

Despite political turmoil. Despite not being able to walk safely on the roads at night. Despite being constantly overcharged for fruit and taxi rides. Despite no access to fresh seafood. Despite an ever-expanding network of fine lines, a product of fair skin and the equatorial sun. Despite horrific traffic on bad roads. Despite a steadily shrinking bank balance and no steady income.

I am just happy here.

I came to Kenya seven months ago. Journalists for Human Rights sent me here to "build the capacity" of Kenyan journalists to report on human rights abuses. I had never been to Africa before. I took a leave of absence from a fun job as a news producer and fill-in host for the Maine Public Broadcasting Network.

I expected culture shock. I expected professional frustration. I expected sunburns and a lingering sense of groundlessness.

But this happiness, I didn't expect it.

This blog is called 8 Months, but I've decided to extend my time here indefinitely. My work for Journalists for Human Rights and the African Woman and Child Feature Service is over. I have no guaranteed income. I am staying anyhow, and not just for the inexplicable happiness.

I am staying for the myriad professional and personal challenges I face here every day.

It's not only bad shellfish. Every day I find out how little I know: about this country, about reporting, about myself. Every day I have to negotiate unexpected circumstances: attempting to file audio clips when all the Internet connections in Nairobi are slowed to a snail's pace, trying to find an electrician to fix the blown hot water tank, sweet talking security guards who want to confiscate my equipment before a big interview.

I am never bored in Kenya.

Every day there are more juicy stories on my want-to-cover list. Sometimes I wish for more hours in the day. Sometimes I wish I needed less sleep. I have never been so professionally stimulated.

I look at the list of want-to-cover stories taped to the wall above my little desk and my blood pressure spikes. It's not stress. It's excitement. There is so much work to do here. There are countless stories going untold.

As a freelancer, I am free to focus on the stories behind the stories. I am able to spend time on multiple, long interviews with one person who is not a news-maker. I can assign myself a story about local musicians, another about new agricultural technology and a third about international business. I can choose to ride my bicycle around the city for a day because, after seven months here, I know a great story will find me if only I keep my eyes and ears open.

That's why I'm staying in Kenya.

I have so much to learn. My Swahili is elementary. Kenyan political history is a tangled knot of tribe, party and corruption that I am only beginning to understand. But somehow, being an ignorant white woman works for me here. It gives me license to ask elementary questions, to play dumb, to be consciously oblivious.

And now that I am beginning to figure out how to be a reporter here - it requires a different skill set than North American reporting - I can ask those elementary questions of all sorts of people. I trust my intuition, and my naivete. I also trust my ability to bring notes back to my little desk, pump out a decent story and cross one more idea of my want-to-cover list.

As long as that list keeps growing, I will stay here. As long as I continue to be elated at new story ideas, I can't imagine why I would choose to be anywhere else.

Sometimes my joy here does leave me feeling guilty about not feeling guilty. Why should I be so happy in a country where many people are struggling on multiple fronts?

I soothe my conscience by reminding myself that Africa is still a 'dark continent' as far as much of the world is concerned; there are still people who think Africa is one country.

There are countless people in this country and this region whose stories are going untold. In some small way, I can help carry a few of those voices around the world. I can use my pen and microphone to help us understand one another a little better.