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Published: July 11th 2008
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accident
overturned beer truck I spent the weekend in the field doing survey work for a Danish NGO. We left Nairobi early Friday morning and had a fairly smooth trip to Kisumu, the capital of Nyanza province located on the shores of Lake Victoria. The trip was briefly delayed by an overturned beer truck that had attracted a large crowd of thirsty locals (see pictures) but we had a 4 x 4 truck and were able to take a cow path around the accident.
We arrived in Kisumu on Friday afternoon and, after a short meal, headed out to the depths of Luoland (the area around Lake Victoria inhabited by the Luo tribe). This area has few paved roads and no running water, sanitation, or electrictiy. As we drove past large groups of school children, many of them stared at me, some waving and shouting "Muzungu!!!" Apparently they don't get many whites in the area.
That evening, and indeed the entire weekend, we stayed in a traditional Luo compound owned by our crooked consultants very nice, old Luo father and his two wives (he originally had three, but one died, although her house is still standing in the compound). Each wife and adult
accident 2
notice the river of beer flowing down the street son had a house in the compound, all of which were traditional mud brick structures with tin-sheet roofs, except for our consultant's place which was a modern house of his own design - which, like him, was absolutely insane, featuring a (non-working, as there's no running water) toilet next to the bed in the master bedroom, in the place where a night-stand would normally be.
Our host's "modern" home had two bedrooms, but he decided to take one for himself and allow his "female colleague" that he had brought along to stay in the other one. My co-worker Vincent, our driver, and myself stayed in a small two-person tent in the courtyard of the compound, sharing a single matress, one blanket, and one sheet. The facility did not have running water or proper showers, and the nights were warm and sticky, so three smelly, sweaty men were sharing a small tent. They also lacked proper sanitation and had only a pit latrine, which was nearly full.
On Saturday we woke up early and took a ferry accross a passage in the lake to a town called Mbita. At Mbita were were supposed to meet up with and interview
the truck
taking a cowpath to avoid the accident policy making officials, but our consultant had failed to do his job and we found ourself without any contacts or appointments. We managed to scrape together a motley collection of interviews, however, and were fairly proud of ourselves for it. That evening we returned to the compound and fell fast asleep after an exhausting day.
On Sunday we were supposed to meet with two focus goups - one composed of youth, the other of women. We spent the day waiting for the consultant to convene these groups as he had assured us he would, but they never materialized. Sick of waiting, I faked a stomach ache and took a long nap. Apparently while I was sleeping a large number of villagers came by to have a gander at the sleeping muzungu. About an hour before dark, our consultant gathered together a large group of men who had been attending a village eviction meeting nearby, and brought them to us as our focus group. Even though were supposed to have two groups, and these groups were supposed to be composed of 10 women and 10 youths, not 34 men, that was all we had. Due to the large number of
participants, the language barrier (most spoke only Luo, not english or swahili), and the fact that our consultant got up and wandered off after about 10 minutes, the group quickly derailed and ended up being nothing more than a string of requests.
One positive thing did arise out of this, as I got a lot of positive attention for my Barak Obama shirt from the crowd. Obama's father was a Luo, and Obama is a huge figure in Luoland.
We left the compound early Monday morning and returned to Kisumu for more survey work. At lunch, we went to a seafood place on the shore of the lake. Our driver paid some kids to wash the truck, and I watched amused as they backed the truck into the shallows of the lake and started to wash it. The lunch place was excellent. I had fresh fried tilapia with greens and ugali. When I started eating, a small boy in dirty, torn clothes stood outside of the resturaunt grinning at me. I smiled back, and he gave me a thumbs up. Then he lifted his shirt and rubbed his belly, giving me the "i'm hungry" sign. I was immediately
put off by this, as I've grown somewhat hardened to the beggars here, I suppose because of their large number, the fact that they target me becuase I'm white, and because they also tend to be thieves when given the opportunity. The child stood just outside of the resturaunt for the duration of the meal, him grinning and me ignoring him. When the meal was over, the waiter let the kid onto the restuaunt floor, and he approached our table. He held out a small black plastic bag, and the waiter pushed my table scraps into it. The kid turned to me, grinned, and said "thank you" in english, then ran off. I felt terrible.
Monday evening we drove up to Kiki-something or other, a fairly large town north of Kisumu. There we met up with another co-worker, who had been doing survey work in the nearby city of Mumias. That night we checked into a real hotel - hot water, clean sheets, the works. It was the first time I had bathed for several days, and the hot water was truly incredible.
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