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Top image, the view from deck of my rental lodging in a gated community, Nairobi. It reveals the luxurious scale of the estates, and to those who bother to look, the disparity among the haves and have nots. My apartment is a basement unit below the main residence yet still grand and spacious. Lower left is the view from my entry onto my private deck. The right is another view from the deck.
For convenience I chose to return to a familiar and comfortable lodging for my last few days in Kenya. I regret that the amiable old gardener, Jonathan was no longer here, but was happy to again see the kind house-keeper, Agnes [pictured above], who I’d befriended one year ago.She came by today, checking that all was going okay with me. For the third day in a row the electricity had gone out midday. This is common in Kenya, even in a posh gated community full of large estates where I’mstaying, electricity is unreliable without any weather-induced issues. There’s a generator on site, but those who live in Kenya have learned to be frugal, so they try not to use diesel-generated power when not essential.
We had power last evening so I was able to make my simple pasta dinner, and it was still on when I woke, so I had warm coffee, eggs, toast and yogurt as usual. But this entitled American began feeling a bit frustrated and grumpy when mid-morning I saw my iPad was about out of power and had planned a day catching up online, when I suddenly realized there was no electricity available.
Agnes was busy the day I arrived, and I’ve been out a few days in a row, so we’d barely spoken. Last year I stayed here about ten days. Through our exchanges and my inquiries, I came to learn that she’d taken this job in Nairobi because there were so few or such low-paying opportunities for her in home near the Mombasa coast. I also slowly found out that she had been in abusive marriage, courageously left with her two young boys, and then established her own business, which had done well. But when the pandemic tanked the economy here, her business lost its clientele and she couldn’t keep it afloat. So she’d made the tough choice to put her kids under her mom’s care and come to work in Nairobi. Which means her family is now a four hour car-ride away (for someone like me who could afford it) or a seven hour bus trip for her.
She told me her boys are doing well, the eldest is 14, really likes school, and is finishing what we’d call middle school. His younger brother is fine as well. Amazingly she remembered I had a son, and asked about him and my family. I assured her all were doing well. Sensing I was a bit hesitant when she asked how I was, I realized I’d betrayed my concern after reading morning news about the coup happening in the US. I told her my worries about the dismantling of our govt. to favor a few in power. Sadly, every Kenyan can relate all too well to corrupt politics. Their President Ruto was recently named 2nd most corrupt leader on the continent, only behind the deposed Assad.
Ruto campaigned on anti-corruption when I was here three years ago, and all Kenyans I encounter laugh about him being more corrupt in the first two years of office than his predecessor was in ten! He recently floated the idea his five year term should be extended to seven. I told her it sounds familiar(!) and shared about Trump and a crony Congressman who’d proposed allowing him three terms. Most Kenyans feel Trump “hates all Africans.” I suggest to them he’s so insecure he hates Canadians, Ukrainians, Mexicans, the EU, and anyone who dares disagree with his view. I feel he’s a troubled, sad man, desperately clutching for power to fill the painful hole in his heart.
~~~
People like Agnes give me great hope for our world. Like so many Kenyans, she wastes little energy complaining, attends to her work in the moment, and is resolute about bettering her future. And she is also considerate beyond herself; remarkably, she remembered that last year I’d gone to visit my young friend Ibrahim, in Isiolo, during the time I stayed at this lodging. She asked if I knew how he was doing. We had a nice chat about him as well, and I happily showed her some photos.
When I asked if she had been able to visit her kids, she immediately brightened. She said her boss (owner of the residence where I’m staying) was now allowing her five days off, three times a year, so she was very happy to be able to see her kids and parents during these times. Recognizing the challenges she was steadfastly enduring, and looking to be encouraging, I asked if she had any vision for herself in the future, perhaps a few years from now.
She said “Yes! I keep saving to get our house built!” I’ve learned in Kenya this often means whenever one has funds, unlike a savings account we might keep to ourselves, if any relative or friend is in need, the old village ways meant you gave them whatever they needed. Essentially everyone shared the bounty if they had a bumper crop — the more complete societal version of the phrase: “it takes a village” — because back in the day it meant “for us all to survive.”
So it seems in order to invest in oneself in the modern economy, a new variation is that when one has funds, materials are bought to build, and right away as much labor as one can afford gets applied to your project. I assume in this way it’s difficult for someone to “request” you help with their hardship as your savings are already “in” a block wall. That’s my theory anyway. Hence everywhere here you see block or stone structures in various phases of completion, sometimes occupied, sometimes not. Perhaps the unstable economy and the mild climate encourage this approach as well.
“I can show you my house?” Agnes asked me cautiously. She then shared photos of the completed outline of exterior walls and a few interior ones, most were three or four feet high. “It is coming! I have already saved for nearly half of the walls! Once they’re done, I will try to get a loan for the roof. We can begin staying there, even if the inside is not finished!” She’s smartly chosen to have three bedrooms, as well as two small rooms for shops to sell her wares when she reėstablishes her business. Clearly and justifiably proud. “I believe I WILL achieve this, God willing!”
There can be a tendency in some cultures, especially those in transition like Kenya, to view “outsiders” like me as wealthy and endlessly capable of support. I suspect anyone traveling between nations with great disparity has seen a variation of it. Here it’s due to many things, mostly the vast differences in traditions, and a disconnect of sorts between cultural expectations, as I mention above. Of course it’s all made more complex by the awful legacy of colonialism and caste systems. So it’s common for people in her circumstances in Kenya to seek assistance from those of us coming from modern industrialized societies.
Yet Agnes has never done this. When we first shared phone numbers (for convenience related to my lodging) last year, warned by many expats, I felt a need to be cautious. I’d learned some of her story, so it seemed best to be direct and tell her I had limited a budget, and firmly said I could not take her on as a sponsor. “No no! It’s not for that!” Was her instantaneous and sincere reaction. She revealed to me she was against the idea, and expressed she only wanted my contact as I’d suggested if I heard of a better job situation I could let her know. Since then, she’s honored her word and been insistent she wanted to make it through her situation on her own terms. I believe this is true, and that she will.
My arrogant and foolish western privilege is still slowly melting. I made a comment about how difficult things were here for so many, yet had great hopes for the Kenyan people, but then selfishly added I was concerned things were going to get tough in America in the near future. Nonetheless she listened intently. “People must pull together, despite the politics,” she said wisely. We were about to end our chat when, almost as an afterthought, she said, “Oh—and I have adopted two young girls!” and she quickly shared a photo on her phone. What?! How?!
The sisters, (aged nine or ten?) had shown up sleeping against the outside of her parents’ home, where her boys are staying. The girls’ mother was mentally ill and alcoholic, and their father had chased them out of the home. Agnes convinced her mother they needed to take them in.
“They had no one. So I felt we HAD to help them. Besides, it is good for my mother to have some girls around. It always feels good to help others.” Given all of her own challenges, it’s hard to convey the beauty and power I felt in her genuine words, sincere intentions, and generous actions. To me, this, right here, was embodied grace.
I thanked her as she left to attend to her many duties. Not only had she totally reframed my petty attitude about no electricity, more importantly, I was consoled regarding my concerns about the US. No matter what system of government is left intact, whatever one’s situation, we still can look out for and take care of one another. We can be “lifeboats, ladders, and lamps,”* if we just let grace guide us.
*paraphrasing Rumi
Below is a video Agnes shared of the current state of her home-to-be.
We had power last evening so I was able to make my simple pasta dinner, and it was still on when I woke, so I had warm coffee, eggs, toast and yogurt as usual. But this entitled American began feeling a bit frustrated and grumpy when mid-morning I saw my iPad was about out of power and had planned a day catching up online, when I suddenly realized there was no electricity available.
Agnes was busy the day I arrived, and I’ve been out a few days in a row, so we’d barely spoken. Last year I stayed here about ten days. Through our exchanges and my inquiries, I came to learn that she’d taken this job in Nairobi because there were so few or such low-paying opportunities for her in home near the Mombasa coast. I also slowly found out that she had been in abusive marriage, courageously left with her two young boys, and then established her own business, which had done well. But when the pandemic tanked the economy here, her business lost its clientele and she couldn’t keep it afloat. So she’d made the tough choice to put her kids under her mom’s care and come to work in Nairobi. Which means her family is now a four hour car-ride away (for someone like me who could afford it) or a seven hour bus trip for her.
She told me her boys are doing well, the eldest is 14, really likes school, and is finishing what we’d call middle school. His younger brother is fine as well. Amazingly she remembered I had a son, and asked about him and my family. I assured her all were doing well. Sensing I was a bit hesitant when she asked how I was, I realized I’d betrayed my concern after reading morning news about the coup happening in the US. I told her my worries about the dismantling of our govt. to favor a few in power. Sadly, every Kenyan can relate all too well to corrupt politics. Their President Ruto was recently named 2nd most corrupt leader on the continent, only behind the deposed Assad.
Ruto campaigned on anti-corruption when I was here three years ago, and all Kenyans I encounter laugh about him being more corrupt in the first two years of office than his predecessor was in ten! He recently floated the idea his five year term should be extended to seven. I told her it sounds familiar(!) and shared about Trump and a crony Congressman who’d proposed allowing him three terms. Most Kenyans feel Trump “hates all Africans.” I suggest to them he’s so insecure he hates Canadians, Ukrainians, Mexicans, the EU, and anyone who dares disagree with his view. I feel he’s a troubled, sad man, desperately clutching for power to fill the painful hole in his heart.
~~~
People like Agnes give me great hope for our world. Like so many Kenyans, she wastes little energy complaining, attends to her work in the moment, and is resolute about bettering her future. And she is also considerate beyond herself; remarkably, she remembered that last year I’d gone to visit my young friend Ibrahim, in Isiolo, during the time I stayed at this lodging. She asked if I knew how he was doing. We had a nice chat about him as well, and I happily showed her some photos.
When I asked if she had been able to visit her kids, she immediately brightened. She said her boss (owner of the residence where I’m staying) was now allowing her five days off, three times a year, so she was very happy to be able to see her kids and parents during these times. Recognizing the challenges she was steadfastly enduring, and looking to be encouraging, I asked if she had any vision for herself in the future, perhaps a few years from now.
She said “Yes! I keep saving to get our house built!” I’ve learned in Kenya this often means whenever one has funds, unlike a savings account we might keep to ourselves, if any relative or friend is in need, the old village ways meant you gave them whatever they needed. Essentially everyone shared the bounty if they had a bumper crop — the more complete societal version of the phrase: “it takes a village” — because back in the day it meant “for us all to survive.”
So it seems in order to invest in oneself in the modern economy, a new variation is that when one has funds, materials are bought to build, and right away as much labor as one can afford gets applied to your project. I assume in this way it’s difficult for someone to “request” you help with their hardship as your savings are already “in” a block wall. That’s my theory anyway. Hence everywhere here you see block or stone structures in various phases of completion, sometimes occupied, sometimes not. Perhaps the unstable economy and the mild climate encourage this approach as well.
“I can show you my house?” Agnes asked me cautiously. She then shared photos of the completed outline of exterior walls and a few interior ones, most were three or four feet high. “It is coming! I have already saved for nearly half of the walls! Once they’re done, I will try to get a loan for the roof. We can begin staying there, even if the inside is not finished!” She’s smartly chosen to have three bedrooms, as well as two small rooms for shops to sell her wares when she reėstablishes her business. Clearly and justifiably proud. “I believe I WILL achieve this, God willing!”
There can be a tendency in some cultures, especially those in transition like Kenya, to view “outsiders” like me as wealthy and endlessly capable of support. I suspect anyone traveling between nations with great disparity has seen a variation of it. Here it’s due to many things, mostly the vast differences in traditions, and a disconnect of sorts between cultural expectations, as I mention above. Of course it’s all made more complex by the awful legacy of colonialism and caste systems. So it’s common for people in her circumstances in Kenya to seek assistance from those of us coming from modern industrialized societies.
Yet Agnes has never done this. When we first shared phone numbers (for convenience related to my lodging) last year, warned by many expats, I felt a need to be cautious. I’d learned some of her story, so it seemed best to be direct and tell her I had limited a budget, and firmly said I could not take her on as a sponsor. “No no! It’s not for that!” Was her instantaneous and sincere reaction. She revealed to me she was against the idea, and expressed she only wanted my contact as I’d suggested if I heard of a better job situation I could let her know. Since then, she’s honored her word and been insistent she wanted to make it through her situation on her own terms. I believe this is true, and that she will.
My arrogant and foolish western privilege is still slowly melting. I made a comment about how difficult things were here for so many, yet had great hopes for the Kenyan people, but then selfishly added I was concerned things were going to get tough in America in the near future. Nonetheless she listened intently. “People must pull together, despite the politics,” she said wisely. We were about to end our chat when, almost as an afterthought, she said, “Oh—and I have adopted two young girls!” and she quickly shared a photo on her phone. What?! How?!
The sisters, (aged nine or ten?) had shown up sleeping against the outside of her parents’ home, where her boys are staying. The girls’ mother was mentally ill and alcoholic, and their father had chased them out of the home. Agnes convinced her mother they needed to take them in.
“They had no one. So I felt we HAD to help them. Besides, it is good for my mother to have some girls around. It always feels good to help others.” Given all of her own challenges, it’s hard to convey the beauty and power I felt in her genuine words, sincere intentions, and generous actions. To me, this, right here, was embodied grace.
I thanked her as she left to attend to her many duties. Not only had she totally reframed my petty attitude about no electricity, more importantly, I was consoled regarding my concerns about the US. No matter what system of government is left intact, whatever one’s situation, we still can look out for and take care of one another. We can be “lifeboats, ladders, and lamps,”* if we just let grace guide us.
*paraphrasing Rumi
Below is a video Agnes shared of the current state of her home-to-be.
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