So it’s ‘winter’ here in Mombasa – a chilly 28 degrees – and the puffer jackets and beanies are out (seriously, I have seen a few!). Although it is by no means cold, in terms of rain Mombasa does give London a run for its money. I knew that May was the wettest month of the year, but I didn’t appreciate how wet it would be. Rain in Africa? But I now know the meaning of ‘when it rains it pours’. If you find yourself stuck in the rain, even for a few seconds, you are saturated – it buckets down! But before you know it, the sun is out again, there is not a cloud in the sky or a puddle on the ground. I actually love it when it rains – it makes everything fresh and clears away all the dust, and it makes for some beautiful rainbows.
Last week I gave a presentation to a group of around 30 FIDA clients on microfinance opportunities. I dread presenting at the best of times, but here there were some additional challenges. It was tricky to work out how to teach the women about the importance of becoming financially empowered, when these women face a daily financial struggle that I cannot even imagine. Add to that their limited understanding of English (and, in particular, of my Aussie twang!) and I was pretty nervous. But when I introduced myself in Swahili (thanks to Mercy, the security guard at FIDA, who has also taken on the role of my Swahili tutor) to an enthusiastic round of applause, I knew I was going to be ok. The message of my presentation was reinforced by a personal story told by a previous FIDA client who has become financially independent with the help of microfinance.
A colleague at FIDA is involved in running a school and I was able to visit one afternoon – a very eye-opening experience. There were about 50 young kids crammed into two tiny rooms of a mud brick building. Only a few of them could afford books and they have no play area (aside from the alleys surrounding the building which were filled with rubbish). Each of them stood up and introduced themselves to me beautifully, and despite their surroundings they had the biggest smiles. I queried why these kids weren’t in a government school (where primary education is free) and I was told that the education at this little privately run school is actually better than at the government schools. You have to wonder whether these kids will have the opportunity to finish primary school, let alone high school, which is so sad because without an education in this country there is little hope of ever being able to earn a stable income.
On the travel front, I did a weekend safari to Tsavo, the largest national park in Kenya. We saw ‘red’ elephants (red because they take ‘dust baths’ and cover themselves with the red soil), zebras hanging out with giraffes (apparently zebras stick with giraffes as giraffes can obviously see danger coming a mile away!), two leopards on their honeymoon (the only time you spot two together is if they are mating or if they are mother and child) and of course your usual baboons, antelopes, warthogs and water buffaloes. It really was like the Circle of Life (which, incidentally, I could not get out of my head for the whole safari!).
This weekend I finally experienced the Mombasa nightlife. When I suggested going for a drink after work at 5pm this was met with some confusion – it seems that while the pubs are closing up at midnight in London, the Kenyans are only just thinking about going out! So after work we went home to get ready together which involved a good meal (eaten with my hands of course), an episode of a Mexican soap opera (they are all obsessed with this cheesy soap which makes Bold & the Beautiful look Oscar-worthy) and a sing-along to MTV gospel style. The bar was good fun – like any bar in London or Melbourne really, except full of people who can actually dance. But this was all R&B, and it was the real African music that I was hanging out for. The following night Dorothy and Joseph (my adopted Kenyan family) and Anne (my lovely boss) took me out to Tembo Disco – ‘Elephant Disco’ – an old quarry turned into an open air club. No elephants, but definitely old school disco complete with smoke machines and strobe lighting, and great African music. It is impossible not to move when you hear that music… And as I have learnt, it’s all in the hips. We ended up dancing until 4am – my legs really paid for it the next day, but I’m told that I can now dance like an African!
Habari ya usiku… Another way to say good night (Swahili greetings seems to be endless).
Erin
