Again, no story here, just photos from the trip home, including stops in Nairobi, London, and Miami...
Showing posts with label Nairobi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nairobi. Show all posts
Friday, July 24, 2009
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Back in the world
I couldn't sleep this morning.
The streetlights woke me up. It was cold too. Neither of these things have been a problem in almost five months.
I'm in Nairobi (Kenya), having just left Sudan yesterday afternoon. I'm on my way back to the States, via London, tomorrow (Tuesday) morning. I'm at the organization's guest house, which is actually in an apartment complex, the first place I've been in months that feels like something you'd see in 'real world.' When I say 'real world,' I don't mean to imply that southern Sudan is somehow false- hardly- it's very, very real, and the fact that so few people are aware of the reality there is part of the problem. The simple fact is, however, that things are so underdeveloped, the infrastructure is so bad, and the challenges are so great, that it feels like being in another reality.
Until yesterday, the largest city I've seen in almost five months is Juba, which has warped my perspective. Juba is a place where a nice hotel is a converted cargo container with air-conditioning and a generator, the roads in the center of town (which happens to be the unofficial national capital) are so rutted and cratered that it takes a Land Cruiser to move around, and everywhere you turn you see piles of trash, sewage spilling out into greenish-black puddles, and wandering sheep and goats.
The sense of relief I felt when the plane took off from Juba yesterday for the short (1.5 hour) flight to Nairobi was something I've rarely experienced, a palpable sense of, ' you did it, it's finally over.' Southern Sudan is poor, hot, and undeveloped, but I expected all of that coming in, and feel like I was as prepared as possible. I'm not sure what it was exactly that made my time there start to feel so frustrating, and like such a slog, although I'd guess that at least part of it was the fact that I was offered another job elsewhere within five weeks of arriving, meaning the majority of the time with the organization, I felt like I was just waiting for something new and better to happen.
Given this, when I arrived in Nairobi yesterday afternoon, I spent the majority of the time walking around in something of an amazed stupor. Even as we taxied to the gate at Jomo Kenyatta Airport (the main international airport), it was the first time in months I'd seen proper taxiways, jet-bridges, and even an airport terminal. I walked into the airport and found that I couldn't stop laughing as I looked around and saw candy, souvenirs, cafes, electronic displays of flight information, and so much more.
This sense of shock only continued later in the afternoon as I walked around Nakumatt Junction, an enormous shopping mall just a five-minute walk away from the guesthouse. I walked into a bookstore that was every bit the equal of anything you'd see in the US or Europe, had smoked salmon and cream cheese on a whole-wheat bagel for lunch at a coffee shop with pleasant music and souvenir t-shirts for sale, and finished it off with vanilla and berry gelato. I walked into the enormous supermarket (Nakumatt is a huge store here, similar perhaps to Wal-Mart or Carrefour), and saw... everything. From flat-screen plasma TVs to hundreds of varieties of toothpaste, it was all there.
I remember hearing as a Peace Corps volunteer about how intense the initial shock can be coming back to the developed world, but yesterday was the first time I really felt it. I wandered through the candy aisle, not so much because I wanted candy, but simply because I couldn't stop staring at all the packages, the colors, the varieties.
I certainly understand that the place where I was is a wealthy part of Nairobi, and there were foreigners (mostly white ones) everywhere, but there were also plenty of Kenyans, not simply the people serving drinks or cleaning, but shopping, dining, chatting on phones with Bluetooth headsets, and more.
I don't want to get overly philosophical here, or be an apologist for the colonial past of this place. The British ruled Kenya with an authority based on exploitation, violence, the pitting of tribal identities against each other, and arrogance. For all of this, however, the systems that they left behind, particularly the education and infrastructure, are what seem to me to have made all the difference. So many educated Kenyan professionals have built their country, and the amount of capacity among people here is such that there seems to be little need for expats- people can run their own affairs, and seem to be doing a good job of it, for the most part. One of the reasons why this is possible is because there's an infrastructure here that works- people can drive to work on a decent road, go the ATM to withdraw their Shillings, shop at the supermarket, eat at a restaurant, and catch a flight somewhere if they need to. None of this exists (or at least exists easily) in southern Sudan, and the difference is enormous. It isn't only an issue of violence- Kenya has had its share of war too, most recently last year, when the election went haywire. And despite the obvious advantages over a place like southern Sudan, Kenya is still very much a 'developing country.' Still, the degree to which things work here, and work properly, feels stunning after being in Sudan.
It's time for me to head to the office, so I'm going to wrap this up- before I go though, I'll have my granola, check my email again, and take a hot shower. It'll be London tomorrow, Miami and Tampa on Wednesday- crazy to think about. In any case, it's nice to be out, and in a place that feels at least a little closer to home...
The streetlights woke me up. It was cold too. Neither of these things have been a problem in almost five months.
I'm in Nairobi (Kenya), having just left Sudan yesterday afternoon. I'm on my way back to the States, via London, tomorrow (Tuesday) morning. I'm at the organization's guest house, which is actually in an apartment complex, the first place I've been in months that feels like something you'd see in 'real world.' When I say 'real world,' I don't mean to imply that southern Sudan is somehow false- hardly- it's very, very real, and the fact that so few people are aware of the reality there is part of the problem. The simple fact is, however, that things are so underdeveloped, the infrastructure is so bad, and the challenges are so great, that it feels like being in another reality.
Until yesterday, the largest city I've seen in almost five months is Juba, which has warped my perspective. Juba is a place where a nice hotel is a converted cargo container with air-conditioning and a generator, the roads in the center of town (which happens to be the unofficial national capital) are so rutted and cratered that it takes a Land Cruiser to move around, and everywhere you turn you see piles of trash, sewage spilling out into greenish-black puddles, and wandering sheep and goats.
The sense of relief I felt when the plane took off from Juba yesterday for the short (1.5 hour) flight to Nairobi was something I've rarely experienced, a palpable sense of, ' you did it, it's finally over.' Southern Sudan is poor, hot, and undeveloped, but I expected all of that coming in, and feel like I was as prepared as possible. I'm not sure what it was exactly that made my time there start to feel so frustrating, and like such a slog, although I'd guess that at least part of it was the fact that I was offered another job elsewhere within five weeks of arriving, meaning the majority of the time with the organization, I felt like I was just waiting for something new and better to happen.
Given this, when I arrived in Nairobi yesterday afternoon, I spent the majority of the time walking around in something of an amazed stupor. Even as we taxied to the gate at Jomo Kenyatta Airport (the main international airport), it was the first time in months I'd seen proper taxiways, jet-bridges, and even an airport terminal. I walked into the airport and found that I couldn't stop laughing as I looked around and saw candy, souvenirs, cafes, electronic displays of flight information, and so much more.
This sense of shock only continued later in the afternoon as I walked around Nakumatt Junction, an enormous shopping mall just a five-minute walk away from the guesthouse. I walked into a bookstore that was every bit the equal of anything you'd see in the US or Europe, had smoked salmon and cream cheese on a whole-wheat bagel for lunch at a coffee shop with pleasant music and souvenir t-shirts for sale, and finished it off with vanilla and berry gelato. I walked into the enormous supermarket (Nakumatt is a huge store here, similar perhaps to Wal-Mart or Carrefour), and saw... everything. From flat-screen plasma TVs to hundreds of varieties of toothpaste, it was all there.
I remember hearing as a Peace Corps volunteer about how intense the initial shock can be coming back to the developed world, but yesterday was the first time I really felt it. I wandered through the candy aisle, not so much because I wanted candy, but simply because I couldn't stop staring at all the packages, the colors, the varieties.
I certainly understand that the place where I was is a wealthy part of Nairobi, and there were foreigners (mostly white ones) everywhere, but there were also plenty of Kenyans, not simply the people serving drinks or cleaning, but shopping, dining, chatting on phones with Bluetooth headsets, and more.
I don't want to get overly philosophical here, or be an apologist for the colonial past of this place. The British ruled Kenya with an authority based on exploitation, violence, the pitting of tribal identities against each other, and arrogance. For all of this, however, the systems that they left behind, particularly the education and infrastructure, are what seem to me to have made all the difference. So many educated Kenyan professionals have built their country, and the amount of capacity among people here is such that there seems to be little need for expats- people can run their own affairs, and seem to be doing a good job of it, for the most part. One of the reasons why this is possible is because there's an infrastructure here that works- people can drive to work on a decent road, go the ATM to withdraw their Shillings, shop at the supermarket, eat at a restaurant, and catch a flight somewhere if they need to. None of this exists (or at least exists easily) in southern Sudan, and the difference is enormous. It isn't only an issue of violence- Kenya has had its share of war too, most recently last year, when the election went haywire. And despite the obvious advantages over a place like southern Sudan, Kenya is still very much a 'developing country.' Still, the degree to which things work here, and work properly, feels stunning after being in Sudan.
It's time for me to head to the office, so I'm going to wrap this up- before I go though, I'll have my granola, check my email again, and take a hot shower. It'll be London tomorrow, Miami and Tampa on Wednesday- crazy to think about. In any case, it's nice to be out, and in a place that feels at least a little closer to home...
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Poorest of the poor?
I'm back in Juba, sitting in the dining room at the Shalom Hotel this morning with Taban, one of the accountants for the organization. We're having the standard breakfast of omelettes, fruit salad, and fresh bread. The hotel is owned by Eritreans, so everything can come with a dusting of beri-beri spice (the distinctive flavor you always taste in Ethiopian and Eritrean places), if you ask for it. I do.
We're chatting, and I distractedly keep an eye on CNN– the sound is off, so I can only follow so much– plus, it'd be rude to watch too intently. I swallow a few multivitamins and my daily dose of Doxycycline (an anti-malarial pill), and we continue to talk.
I mention to him that I'm heading home- going to Nairobi this Sunday, London Tuesday, and Florida on Wednesday. I'm excited to be leaving, and I suppose it probably shows. It's not that this has been a bad experience in every way, but it definitely has not been what I'd hoped for. I feel like I've spent the better part of the past five months on a permanent camp-out, and frankly, I feel like I did that for two years as a Peace Corps volunteer. In any case, I'm not writing this to rant- that'll be the stuff of individual conversations with some of you.
"I have a brother in the US," Taban says, seemingly out of nowhere. "One in Australia too."
"Really?" I ask, surprised.
"Yes, they were resettled during the war."
"So they came as refugees, right?"
"Yes. The one in America is in Fargo, North Dakota."
I can't help but laugh a bit as I picture an enormously tall, rail-thin Sudanese man who'd never known days cooler than 25ยบ C cruising around in Fargo, a place where I'd imagine 'cold' doesn't begin to do justice to the bone-chilling frozen-ness of the place. Odd how the US government tends to settle refugees in some of the least-expected places. I wonder how they decided on Fargo?
Like many of the Sudanese men and women working for the organization, Taban tells me about how he spent most of the past few decades out of Sudan. He left his village in 1985, as the north-south civil war was at its worst. As we finish our omelettes, he tells me about how people in the village, called Kajo-Keiji, managed to get ahold of an anti-aircraft gun, and shot down one of the north's Russian-built Antonov bombers. Supposedly, the wreckage is somewhere in the nearby mountains. With the war escalating he fled to Nairobi, where he attended university, and became an accountant.
As we talk, I realize something, my own misperception.
One of the things I've noticed, I tell him, is that I think working in this amorphous 'development' thing, it's easy to lose sight of the reality on the ground, and in some cases, that includes the positive. Working to do things like install hand-pumps, distribute seeds, or train people on the proper use of ox-plows, we spend most of our time working with the 'less than one dollar a day' segment of the population.
When all you see are the people who have nothing, it's easy to forget that while this is a large segment of the population in a place like southern Sudan, it's not the only one. There are entrepreneurs, scholars, and professionals, people like Taban. Honestly, it's encouraging. Working with people in villages, providing things that feel incredibly basic, and teaching things that seem so simple, it's easy to lose perspective, and feel like there's no hope for this place. As challenging as things may be here though, there are reasons to feel positive, and the reminder of this sometimes comes in the strangest places- in a hotel dining room, in this case. Taban came home- he tells me about how his brothers have talked about coming back as well, to do what they can to rebuild their country.
I hope they do. Southern Sudan clearly has a very, very long way to go as it moves forward. For the time being, at least, the government and the people here will probably continue to need the support of NGOs, most of which are led by expats. If things work how they're supposed to though, and the goal is to 'build capacity,' (a phrase you see constantly in reports), eventually a new group of Sudanese professionals will be ready to take the helm.
If that happens, I know a good accountant...
We're chatting, and I distractedly keep an eye on CNN– the sound is off, so I can only follow so much– plus, it'd be rude to watch too intently. I swallow a few multivitamins and my daily dose of Doxycycline (an anti-malarial pill), and we continue to talk.
I mention to him that I'm heading home- going to Nairobi this Sunday, London Tuesday, and Florida on Wednesday. I'm excited to be leaving, and I suppose it probably shows. It's not that this has been a bad experience in every way, but it definitely has not been what I'd hoped for. I feel like I've spent the better part of the past five months on a permanent camp-out, and frankly, I feel like I did that for two years as a Peace Corps volunteer. In any case, I'm not writing this to rant- that'll be the stuff of individual conversations with some of you.
"I have a brother in the US," Taban says, seemingly out of nowhere. "One in Australia too."
"Really?" I ask, surprised.
"Yes, they were resettled during the war."
"So they came as refugees, right?"
"Yes. The one in America is in Fargo, North Dakota."
I can't help but laugh a bit as I picture an enormously tall, rail-thin Sudanese man who'd never known days cooler than 25ยบ C cruising around in Fargo, a place where I'd imagine 'cold' doesn't begin to do justice to the bone-chilling frozen-ness of the place. Odd how the US government tends to settle refugees in some of the least-expected places. I wonder how they decided on Fargo?
Like many of the Sudanese men and women working for the organization, Taban tells me about how he spent most of the past few decades out of Sudan. He left his village in 1985, as the north-south civil war was at its worst. As we finish our omelettes, he tells me about how people in the village, called Kajo-Keiji, managed to get ahold of an anti-aircraft gun, and shot down one of the north's Russian-built Antonov bombers. Supposedly, the wreckage is somewhere in the nearby mountains. With the war escalating he fled to Nairobi, where he attended university, and became an accountant.
As we talk, I realize something, my own misperception.
One of the things I've noticed, I tell him, is that I think working in this amorphous 'development' thing, it's easy to lose sight of the reality on the ground, and in some cases, that includes the positive. Working to do things like install hand-pumps, distribute seeds, or train people on the proper use of ox-plows, we spend most of our time working with the 'less than one dollar a day' segment of the population.
When all you see are the people who have nothing, it's easy to forget that while this is a large segment of the population in a place like southern Sudan, it's not the only one. There are entrepreneurs, scholars, and professionals, people like Taban. Honestly, it's encouraging. Working with people in villages, providing things that feel incredibly basic, and teaching things that seem so simple, it's easy to lose perspective, and feel like there's no hope for this place. As challenging as things may be here though, there are reasons to feel positive, and the reminder of this sometimes comes in the strangest places- in a hotel dining room, in this case. Taban came home- he tells me about how his brothers have talked about coming back as well, to do what they can to rebuild their country.
I hope they do. Southern Sudan clearly has a very, very long way to go as it moves forward. For the time being, at least, the government and the people here will probably continue to need the support of NGOs, most of which are led by expats. If things work how they're supposed to though, and the goal is to 'build capacity,' (a phrase you see constantly in reports), eventually a new group of Sudanese professionals will be ready to take the helm.
If that happens, I know a good accountant...
Monday, February 23, 2009
Here at last
Just arrived at the office in Juba, South Sudan, after what has been more or less nonstop travel for the past six days.
It's hot. Not as hot as I expected, but still, a big change from the icy streets of New York and London over the past few days.
On the plane from Nairobi to Juba, as I passed by what I'm pretty sure was Mt. Kenya, I couldn't help but laugh to myself a little when I thought about how long this journey has been, but in a way, how very fast this has all happened. In the past month, I've gone from Denver to San Francisco to Arcata to San Francisco to Chicago to Baltimore to Washington to Chicago to San Francisco to Arcata to San Francisco to New York to London to Nairobi and Juba. 11 flights and 29 days later, stop and take a breath.
It was great to be in London for a little while, the first time I'd been in Europe in a couple years. Although this might sound crazy to any Londoners seeing this, I was shocked by how clean the entire Tube system seemed- maybe it was coming from New York though, where the subway seems permanently gross. Had a chance to see my cousin, as well as a friend, both of whom are living there at the moment. Granted, it was only a long layover, but still.
I had just over 24 hours to spend in Nairobi, and although I basically only saw the airport, guesthouse, and two malls. Even in that limited time though, it was pretty clear that Nairobi is on an entirely different level, development-wise, from what I've seen in my previous travels in Africa. I went for lunch with another staff member to a mall that looked as though it could've been dropped down in the middle of suburban Americana, complete with electronics shops selling iPod accessories, green tea smoothies at a coffee shop, and a bungee-jump trampoline in the parking lot, which, naturally, was filled with SUVs. The difference of course, being that this is hardly typical- I was in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods of the city, and the SUVs were primarily Land Cruisers, many of which had enormous antennas for the VHF radio connections.
I'd heard stories about Nairobi's legendarily terrible traffic, but honestly, I had no problem. My taxi driver/Formula One wannabe seemed to know every back alley, and I arrived at the airport three hours early. One thing I've noticed in the past couple days of traveling is the utter sameness of every duty free shop. Apparently all a person needs to survive when traveling internationally is: a passport, enormous cartons of Marlboros, multi-liter bottles of Jack Daniels and Johnnie Walker, bricks of Toblerone (white, dark, and milk), chocolate, M&Ms, perfume, and the occasional digital camera.
After a one-and-a-quarter hour East African Express flight (complete with lunch and drinks; cheap Americans...) I arrived at Juba's run-down (is there anything else in this part of the world?) airport. After an enormous line, and a verification of my travel permit (like a visa, but not quite, since South Sudan isn't officially an independent country), I met Rodrigo, the Communications and Information Manager for the organization; we're waiting for the driver, and will be heading off to the hotel shortly. From what I understand, we'll only be here tonight, and then I'm off to the town of Yei for a week or so to have some sort of orientation...
I should have a phone soon, and once I do, I'll post the number. Until then, look forward to hearing from you...
It's hot. Not as hot as I expected, but still, a big change from the icy streets of New York and London over the past few days.
On the plane from Nairobi to Juba, as I passed by what I'm pretty sure was Mt. Kenya, I couldn't help but laugh to myself a little when I thought about how long this journey has been, but in a way, how very fast this has all happened. In the past month, I've gone from Denver to San Francisco to Arcata to San Francisco to Chicago to Baltimore to Washington to Chicago to San Francisco to Arcata to San Francisco to New York to London to Nairobi and Juba. 11 flights and 29 days later, stop and take a breath.
It was great to be in London for a little while, the first time I'd been in Europe in a couple years. Although this might sound crazy to any Londoners seeing this, I was shocked by how clean the entire Tube system seemed- maybe it was coming from New York though, where the subway seems permanently gross. Had a chance to see my cousin, as well as a friend, both of whom are living there at the moment. Granted, it was only a long layover, but still.
I had just over 24 hours to spend in Nairobi, and although I basically only saw the airport, guesthouse, and two malls. Even in that limited time though, it was pretty clear that Nairobi is on an entirely different level, development-wise, from what I've seen in my previous travels in Africa. I went for lunch with another staff member to a mall that looked as though it could've been dropped down in the middle of suburban Americana, complete with electronics shops selling iPod accessories, green tea smoothies at a coffee shop, and a bungee-jump trampoline in the parking lot, which, naturally, was filled with SUVs. The difference of course, being that this is hardly typical- I was in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods of the city, and the SUVs were primarily Land Cruisers, many of which had enormous antennas for the VHF radio connections.
I'd heard stories about Nairobi's legendarily terrible traffic, but honestly, I had no problem. My taxi driver/Formula One wannabe seemed to know every back alley, and I arrived at the airport three hours early. One thing I've noticed in the past couple days of traveling is the utter sameness of every duty free shop. Apparently all a person needs to survive when traveling internationally is: a passport, enormous cartons of Marlboros, multi-liter bottles of Jack Daniels and Johnnie Walker, bricks of Toblerone (white, dark, and milk), chocolate, M&Ms, perfume, and the occasional digital camera.
After a one-and-a-quarter hour East African Express flight (complete with lunch and drinks; cheap Americans...) I arrived at Juba's run-down (is there anything else in this part of the world?) airport. After an enormous line, and a verification of my travel permit (like a visa, but not quite, since South Sudan isn't officially an independent country), I met Rodrigo, the Communications and Information Manager for the organization; we're waiting for the driver, and will be heading off to the hotel shortly. From what I understand, we'll only be here tonight, and then I'm off to the town of Yei for a week or so to have some sort of orientation...
I should have a phone soon, and once I do, I'll post the number. Until then, look forward to hearing from you...
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