Evil for good

Serendipitous events have encouraged me to write about work: The mighty Mr. J. over at Tales From the Hood blog has initiated an Aid Blog Forum. His goals are to generate conversations around certain topics relevant to aid work. You can see his call to arms here.

His first topic up for discussion is Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR, if you're an acronym junkie). As J. points out, there are many forms. Here's my low down on a couple.

* * *

In the USA

In everyday life in the States, it seems we generally think of CSR as something "certified," for example fair trade coffee or conflict-free diamonds or pretty much anything having to do with REI.

This is marketing, pure and simple - and it works. Prices are raised a little. People choose to pay a little more and support "goodness". Profits are made. That's cool.

But are we (consumers) thinking about it properly? What does "certified" mean? In my examples above, certification means there is some kind of control or regulation of the process by which the product is produced. It's never black or white, but I know that sometimes this "certification process" is totally bullshit.

Those local farmers in Rwanda, Kenya, or Ethiopia who made your fair-trade coffee probably didn't get the global market price for their coffee and still have trouble feeding their kids. In certain contexts it's pretty easy to bribe someone to get "evil diamonds" mixed in with a batch of "good diamonds", and they sparkle just the same.

It's not to say to hell with CSR in this form, it's just to say that it's not always such a pink and shiny simple solution to the world's problems. It is a step in the right direction. It gets people thinking about world problems. And sometimes "certified" might actually mean something. But I doubt if we will save the world this way.

(You may have noticed I didn't bash REI... eh, I admit I'm a fan. NOT for their CSR BS, but rather 'cause they make good shoes and gear, and it's worth it when you get a good sale on.)

* * *

In Aid Work

In aid work, I think of CSR generally as philanthropy by a corporation and can come in two forms: stuff or money.

*

Stuff has a high probability of being categorized as SWEDOW (stuff or shit we don't want, copyright J.), and usually that means the "needy" folks being "helped" don't want it either. (See Footloose post for an example.)

Of course sometimes there are products that could be useful to the "needy" folks and then donated by a corporation, and can thus do some good. An example: A water quality expert was on his way to a big disaster brought some machines to donate to local chlorine producers to increase their production capacity of this much needed product. Why this is a good example: The product was needed for the context, the recipients were already using the product, basically the whole donation was made with forethought about contextual need and appropriateness (and in fact communication with some folks on the ground before hand).

But if forced to get off the fence, I'd say that stuff donated for CSR is pretty much stupid. No, not categorically, but usually. And when I say usually I don't mean 51% of the time, but more like 95-99% of the time.

*

Money donated by a corporation can have negative connotations associated with it in the aid world, but money is money is money. If it's donated well and used well, then to hell with idealistic hang-ups.

A colleague once said "I wouldn't want to put a Wal-mart logo on my wells..." Why the hell not? We put US-AID or ECHO or OFDA or whatever other humanitarian donor logo you like on our wells. We put our silly NGO logo on the well. Why not Wal-mart? Because they are big and evil? Fine they are evil, all the better to take their money and use it for good! (Evil laughter ensues.)

Good donor-ship is a huge topic in and of itself, as is good use of donor money (i.e. good projects), but if there is a little common sense employed, aid can really benefit from a diversification of donors - including corporations.

The sad thing is that common sense isn't always employed. To save the world, NGOs need money. They don't often have the power (or the balls) to say "No" and don't often have the time (or the money) to educate a new corperate donor of the real needs of a strong project. This too often leads to bad projects, or worse to harm.

* * *

Corporate Social Responsibility isn't going to save the world, but like anything, if used intelligently it can be part of the solution and I am all for harnessing evil for good.

Unfortunately, it's not as simple as my blog post makes it out to be.
-Fist of all, I am being pretty naive to think we can harness all evil for good. A lot of corporations don't give a rat's ass about saving the world, but rather focus on taking over the world.
-Second, I have assumed NGOs know what they are doing (not always the case) and that "normal" institutional humanitarian donors are some sort of saints (not always the case).
-Third, I've left out some important scenarios... but you don't really want to read 75 pages of blabber anyway.

Saving the world is pretty complex shit. Read the other posts in this CSR series by clicking here, and new information will be brought to light, man.

Footloose

Loose, footloose
Kick off your Sunday shoes
Please, Louise
Pull me offa my knees
Jack, get back
C'mon before we crack 

Sometimes on Facebook or here I link to blogs or information on aid work and discussions about improving aid.  Here on my blog I tend to talk about what I do, on Facebook I try to steer my friends toward information on good giving. Today's post sort of connects the two.

One of the blogs I've shared before, "Good Intentions are Not Enough" from Sandra, has started a blog campaign to counter a silly advertising campaign. This post is in response to her call to arms. I suggest reading the whole thing, and the comments at the bottom are worth a gander as well.

But here's a summary of the counter campaign from her page:

"It’s time again for TOMS Shoes’ annual advertisement (awareness raising activity) called A Day Without Shoes. Every year TOMS gets celebrities and college students to walk around barefoot so that they are more aware of the plight of people without shoes. And of course, what better way to put shoes onto the feet of these shoeless people than to purchase a pair of TOMS Shoes.

As you’ve probably guessed, I’m not a fan of this annual event. So this year I’m proposing a counter-campaign called A Day Without Dignity.

On or around April 5th – the same date as A Day Without Shoes – we’re asking aid workers, the diaspora, and people from areas that receive shoe drops and other forms of charity to speak up in blogs, on twitter, or at school."

* * * 

Dr. Strangeshoe or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Shoe Shopping

I come from modest hippy roots, ripe with barefoot, naked, free-loving childhood memories. After a teenage bout with Guess? jeans, hairspray and make-up (my form of rebellion), I returned to my roots, joined the Peace Corps and wore nothing but home-made clothes and Chacos. When I got a paying job as a professional aid worker, I expanded my wardrobe (peace-drobe, as my uncle says) to include NGO/donor branded t-shirts, flip flops and gum boots.

As I moved up the ranks and out of the bush, I had a "need" to look nice for donor meetings, coordination meetings and "representation". The dirty aid worker look wouldn't hack it. So, for my highest goal of saving the world, I went shopping.

I was a big spender. I bought red Converse low tops from the rasta DJ for ten bucks. I bought wooden wedge heels from the fat mamma on the corner for five-fifty. I bought basic black flats from a nondescript guy for a dollar. Despite haggles, I am sure I paid the "muzungu price" (foreigner price), probably twice of normal.

"Have I sold out?" I asked myself, as I put on black linen slacks and name-brand button up shirt.
"No, it's for the children." I justified to myself, as I tied the laces on the super-stylee red Converse. "You're gonna wow those donors! You're contributing to the local economy, feeding those people's kids," I added to really convince myself. I added a locally-made red beaded necklace to complete the look.

* * * 

 You're playing so cool
Obeying every rule
Dig way down in your heart
You're yearning, burning for some...

So, what's wrong with TOMS barefoot "awareness raising" (advertising) campaign? Isn't it cute? Not really. I'll just point out two things:


It perpetuates the image that poverty stricken people live undignified lives of squalor and need any handout they can get. "Those poor African children don't even have shoes!" Um, Maybe they don't even want shoes.

Generally, if you're really trying to help people - giving money is better than giving stuff. Even if you're dead set on shoes, send money to buy them locally - it's cheaper and more efficient and the person you're trying to help can choose the stylee shoes she likes herself.

The issues and debates are long and complicated (and really interesting!), so I encourage you to look around Sandra's Good Intents site, as well as the other blog posts participating in this campaign.

It is sexy to give in these "trying times" of earthquakes, tsunamis, droughts, floods, epidemics, civil wars, revolutions, ongoing conflicts etc. So do. But also have a good conversation over dinner about it. Disagree with me. With whoever. Just ask questions. And keep your damn shoes on.

Everybody get Footloose.

The Tao of Water

I am an amateur blogger. 
I am a professional humanitarian aid worker in the water sector.
I am thus obliged to participate in this here incredible extravaganza called “Blog Action Day 2010 Water.” 

But don’t think I do so begrudgingly.  To save the world, you have to focus and today that focus fits me pretty well.

* * *

Water is simple: three atoms, two elements, one small molecule.

Add another molecule and those tricky little hydrogen bonds start complicating things. Water doesn’t behave the way it should. Water is subversive. Little rascal. And that is precisely what makes it important.

Add solutes, energy, people and the rest of the world and water gets complicated. Very complicated. Very quickly. And very important.

* * *

A link poem
(But don’t let the links distract you just yet…)

Water is or is not
accessible, distributed, shared,
contaminated, cleaned, protected,
managed, exploited, recycled,
used.

Water creates or controls
diarrhea, malaria, malnutrition, 
HIV, health, bodies,
food, animals, products, energy,
productivity, livelihoods, economics,
life.

Water detains or develops
women’s choices, education, social structures,
religion, land issues, conflicts, wars,
politics, corruption, human rights,
history.

Water is oceans, tsunamis, floods and droughts, climate change.

Water is simply
part of a complex
violent, calm, deplorable, luxurious
system of which we are
a small part.

 
*  *  *

Words on a blog are linear. Water is not linear.

If you spread out all those words in a circle on the floor, take colored string or paint or sand, and started connecting each idea to all those others with which it has a relationship, you would end up with incredible art, perhaps a mandala, about water. One day I will do this.

* * *

Today, I will let others take you on the journey through those ideas. Although I am qualified, I will let others explain and expand on that simple list of words. I will let others cite numbers and statistics.

Get out of your pool (so you don't ruin the computer), sit in the shade (so you can see the screen) and follow links and learn about water and the world in which we live.

Trust me, water shapes your world and a world bigger than yours. Those iron-sheeting shacks, those mud-pressed-in-sticks huts, those billion slum/desert/jungle dwelling worlds aren’t so far from yours.

(But please, please, I beg you… remember two things: Hiesenberg and Bias).

* * *

Today, my contribution will be an introduction to the Tao of Water.

You have probably heard of the Tao Te Chieng. It is a series of 81 chapters of (sometimes cryptic, always relevant) Chinese wisdom compiled around 500 B.C. in which water is a reoccurring theme (my bias).

In chapters 8, 15, 32, 36, 39, 43, 61, 66 and 78, water or its properties are mentioned.

8:
Higher good is like water: the good in water benefits all, and does so without contention. It rests where people dislike to be, so it is close to the Way.
Where it dwells becomes good ground;

15:
…their relaxation was as that of ice at the melting point. Simple as uncarved wood, open as valleys, they were inscrutable as murky water.
Who can, in turbidity,
use the gradual clarification of stillness?

32:

Heaven and earth combine, thus showering sweet dew. No humans command it; it is even by nature.
The Way is to the world as rivers and oceans to valley streams.

36:
This is called subtle illumination. Flexible and yielding overcome adamant coerciveness.

39:
When unity was attained of old, heaven became clear by attaining unity
valley streams were filled by attaining unity…
What brought this about was unity:
without means of clarity, heaven may burst; without means of steadiness, earth may erupt; without means of quickening, spirit may be exhausted; without means of filling,
valley streams may dry up,

43:
What is softest in the world drives what is hardest in the world.

61:
A great nation flows downward into intercourse with the world.

66:
The reason why rivers and seas can be lords of the hundred valleys is that they lower themselves to them all;

78:
Nothing in the world is more flexible and yielding than water. Yet when it attacks the firm and the strong, none can withstand it, because they have no way to change it.

(Translations used without permission, although I have indeed purchased the book from which they came and recommend it as a nice translation. From THE ESSENTIAL TAO - Translated and presented by Thomas Cleary)

* * *

Words to live by. Literally.

I hope you enjoy Blog Action Day about water. I hope you let the links destract you.

I hope you stick around and check out my adventures and adventrues.

I hope you leave a comment. Do you have a link that might fit in my poem? Did I miss a water reference in the Tao?

* * *

End note 1

In doing what I do, I work in a broader field than just water. We have a nifty acronym: WASH. This stands for water, sanitation and hygiene (though I try as much as I can to get even boarder than that). As a wild WASH woman, it is my duty to also share with you some related news about today, October 15, 2010:

Today is also Global Handwashing Day.

Handwashing is important. It the most cost effective way to prevent diarrhea (Lancet). More so than clean water. Admittably, water helps in washing hands… (although when you are in the dessert, rubbing your hands with dirt and sand can also clean them), but don’t get me started on handwashing, just check out some of the interesting stuff online. (Just remember Hiesenberg and bias as you read.)

* * *

End note 2

“I am an expert.”  (hits television…)

I have asked you readers to trust my qualifications, to trust that I know what I am talking about, to trust I have some authority to blog about water and that maybe my links here are “good” ones. In fact, I do.
I don’t mean to sound egotisitical (although sometimes I play that game here in blog-land), and in fact I am quite humble and insecure.

“…and thorough.”

My point is not my personality, but rather if you don’t trust me (and why should you?), drop a comment and I’ll send you my CV (especially if you want to hire me).

Everywhere there's signs...

Shameless editorial note: Please come back the 15th of October to help me win contest #6.

* * *

Don't get the wrong idea from this post. Haiti is not getting back to normal.

It is not being reconstructed. Or deconstructed. Or inducted.
But people live here. And they are living. And to do that, things are constructed.
As this happens, the landscape changes. Shapes of slumped buildings adjust themselves, they become lighter, they become transparent.
Their pieces are laid in neat piles.
It is like wind is blowing around the rubble, the iron bar, the cement.
Shifting desert sands and dust, but a thousand times heavier.

* * *

I was in a certain meeting the other day. It lasted two days. It was many things... Many things were said and said again. And again. Somethings were said only once. Some things were brushed aside.

Discussing aspects of worst case scenarios, someone said "...if people build without control."

Life happens, my friend, and it is not controlled.

Walls and roofs and floors are no longer separated. They are being broken up. Piled up. Recycled. They are being built back from blocks that fell.

* * * 

I am not a bleeding heart aid worker. I am not naive (though my father may argue otherwise). I am not one who instantly identifies with a suffering population, believing I can solve their problems because I mistakenly think I understand them and feel their pain.

But I do think it is important to take off those damn yellow glasses and try to see something from another point of view than your own. Forget your own priorities for a second. Just one second, then go back. That's how we might start to get a realistic view of whatever it is we are looking at. It's not that we can ever be inside, really inside, something else; we are outside and will remain so (and there is value in that). But just a quick flip of perspective, upside down, once in a while is good. Question it. Then go back to where you were perched before, with a little clearer view.

Living. Eating. Bathing. Gambling. Carrying on after. Of course people are picking up old blocks and putting them back together. People aren't waiting for the engineers to come. They are not waiting for development projects with seismic retro fitting. They are not waiting for our project frameworks. They are living. And they will continue to do so.

Everyone has an agenda and a bias. I tried to loose my own, but maybe it is easier for me because I do not claim to be an expert on Haiti or reconstruction or normal.

* * * 

Messages are passed, as in other parts of the world, by taxis - or tap taps.

Many have heartfelt messages of faith (though most are french or creole, here is an english one).

Some are less deep and less meaningful. Most are spelled wrong.

This is my favorite. It is in creole. The driver translated for me (and did some awesome driving so I could catch a photo of it). I understood that it says roughly: "I would be ashamed if I were you."
With Rambo below.
Classic.
Excellent.

"God directs my affairs

fizzy drinks."

And if three people do it...

There is a fun treat at the end, after the business.

* * *

So, the contests continue, although I seem to be cheating a lot. But I make the rules, and no one seems to be objecting. (Uh, maybe that's cause no one is reading.) It's gone from contests to competitions, to submissions... to this. In my defense, the process has been transparent, I am not trying to manipulate the data, just have some fun.

To the right you will see a little widget for Blog Action Day. I normally won't put any advertising or such on my blog, but this is to fully participate in the endevour. You can read about the event or sign their petition to save the world.

Contest #6:  In terms of my contest rules, this is not a contest. So I will make it a contest with myself.

I previously discussed indicators. In aid work, these indicators demonstrate that you have achieved your objectives at/to various levels - in other words, show if you have "won" or not.
In my line of work, indicators must be SMART:
- S - Specific
- M - Measurable
- A - Achievable
- R - Relevant
- T - Time-bound
(Not as easy as you think.)

So in order for this to be a real contest with myself I have devised a contest FRAMEWORK, which includes a smart INDICATOR to measure the success of my OBJECTIVE. (Which is how it works in my world, but I won't give you a lessson of aid project frameworks today. For those of you in my line of work enjoy the following...)

* * *

Project Title:  Emergency support to vulnerable egos affected by the writing contest drought

Overall Purpose: To contribute to my own happiness by having some fun writing

Specific Objective: To "win" at least one of these damn "contests"

Objectively Verifiable Indicator: The number of visits to this blog on Blog Action Day (October 15, 2010) will be twice the maximum number of visits on any other day (baseline value: 45 visits).

Means of Verification: Google Analytics

* * *

There you have it. Spread the word. I will make a lot of noise to remind you on the 15th.
I promise I'll make it "good" - though what's good for me, may not be good for you...

* * *

"You know, if one person, just one person does it
they may think he's really sick and they won't take him. 
And if two people, two people do it,
in harmony,
they may think they're both faggots and they won't take either of them.
And three people do it,
three, can you imagine,
three people walking in singin a bar of Alice's Restaurant and walking out.
They may think it's an organization. 
And can you, can you imagine fifty people a day,
I said fifty people a day walking in singin a bar of Alice's Restaurant and walking out. 
And friends they may thinks it's a movement.

And that's what it is, the Alice's Restaurant Anti-Massacre Movement, and all you got to do to join is sing it the next time it come's around on the guitar.

With feeling. 

So we'll wait for it to come around on the guitar, here and sing it when it does.  Here it comes."

-The younger Guthrie man

Double rubble trouble

Writing contest update:  nothing to report. still 0/5, awaiting 1.
The adventure is neither gone, nor forgotten. 

* * *

Ego update: How do you like my new domain name? Pretty cool, eh? Pretty egotistical, if you ask me, but still pretty cool. I will be fixing some of the formatting and making it better, slowly by slowly. Feedback is welcome.  In other ego-news, I was featured in a "local do-gooder" story from the newspaper where I went to high school.

 * * * 

Today's front page.

Not all the graffiti is artistic, though it all seems to be idealistic.

On the walls that stand or slump, amongst the graffiti, there are stenciled and spray painted signs in green, yellow or red. They read "MTPTC" and then a number. MTPTC means "Ministère des Travaux Publics, Transport et Communications." The number, I assume, relates to an inspector or zone. The color indicates if the building is safe, needs repairs or is unable to be repaired. I can't wait to see the final maps. An utterly fascinating and impressive endeavor.

Today driving to meetings, we passed teams of people in yellow t-shirts with Haitian flags upon them. The people each had a bucket. Some were lined up passing one bucket to the next up a narrow hill. In the bucket was rubble.You can't get machines in to many places, but you can get buckets.

Up to 20 million cubic yards of rubble is a lot. If each bucket contains half a cubic foot (only filled a little so they can be lifted), that makes over a billion buckets (hope my math is right, it is a little late). Of course some of that will be moved with machines, but still, that's a hell of a lot of rubble.

Men climb the skeletons and crimped bodies of buildings with pick axes. They slam and crack, little by little, separating the concrete from the re-bar. The concrete adds to the rubble. The re-bar is sold and recycled. They are strategizing on how to use the rubble. Inventors bring in hand powered machines to break it up, sort it by size, make ballast, aggregate for new concrete mixes and new houses. The rubble fascinates me almost as much as the fissures.

As usual, to save the world you have to focus.

* * * 

People sometimes ask if I live in a tent. For the past two weeks, yes. Military style tents within tents. Hot water with pressure that will take your skin off. This place is Camp Charlie and, like fissures and spray paint, is fascinating.

* * * 

For a more informative view of this situation, check out Jesse's blog that I linked to in the last post. He has an interesting perspective and is much more factual than I.

Puttin' myself out there...

I want to ask you a favor in a small adventure to either satisfy or break my ego. Read on.

So, I like to write. I like words. In the past I dabbled in literary magazines and participated in a fairly prestigeous writing camp. Not really been published, but sort of. I have this darn blog that not so many people read. Sometimes people find it entertaining and sometimes boring. So, I asked myself, if I want to write and say something... how do I know if I really can? Am I good enough? How can I get better? Does anyone want to read what I write?  Why? Why not? What do I have to say anyway?

Basically, this is my ego talking (yes, we all have one). So I thought I would look online for some adventures in writing. Can I validate myself? What's my direction? Is there some niche for my quirky style? Or should I continue to be satisfied writing for fun?

I am going to enter 10 online writing contests and see what happens... I will try to find a variety of them, but so far I am not an expert and there is a lot out there! (oh and by the way, no deadline... eh. I do have a job.)
As I do so, I will post them here and I will include the outcome.
I would love to hear what you think too! 
Tell me where you got bored, where you stopped reading.
Don't tell me what you liked.
Tell me what sucked.

Contest # 1)  I entered an essay writing contest for World Water Day. The audience wasn't totally clear, but to be less than 750 words. The results are announced the 9th, but I won't win, gosh darn it. Today (9 April) it is ranked 38 out of 105 submissions - and you have to be in the top 10 to be considered. Not exactly validation, I am afraid to say. But Fuck it, right? You gotta just put you self out there and let your ego take a thrashing.
So here is my entry, in all its sentimental glory.

(the title was given by the contest makers)

Inadequate access to safe water and sanitation claims 4,500 lives a day. What should we do about it?

Quick update: I changed the above to a link, as appearently this is better netiquette. 

The article has currently fallen to 87/103 (14 April)! I have gotten some great feedback, though and I will be updating the article once I am allowed by the site (when contest winner is announced). Stay tuned as my ego bashing continues. (Waaahaa haaa evil laugh)

Kenya Kataclysm

Back in November, I took a little trip to Takaba. That is up in Northeastern Kenya where we have some cool programs running. It was in the rainy season and it was lovely... except the flat tires (that's the hook there, can't beat a little suspense).

***

On the road between Malkamari and Takaba:

There wasn’t much to see the second time round

Lightning still broke the wide skies, silent as the sun sank
We past this turn before, she thought
As roads became rivers, melting sand to glass pathways
without wind before but waves behind shifting beneath tires
Red to green muddled eyes climbed muddy trees
A wild grey cat in the shadows motionless watching waves
Rain and thunder joined the lighting and still no wind
Perhaps there is indeed some magic here to see
she thought the second time around


***

On Takaba by night:

Seems these days I don’t hear anything
Only silence and bullfrogs singing off the hills
Filled their ponds, their houseboats
Where are they in drought?

***

Takaba was cool (work wise) - except then it got hot (security wise) and we had to bolt out the back door to get back to Nairobi: via Moyale. Driving from Takaba to Moyale is only 5 hours usually, but it took us about 10. We braved the mud pits! Then we smartened up and just drove through the brush to avoid the mud pits, the drivers keeping top speed as not to sink... Then the epic of the flats began.

Two at a time - with only one spare (which is half flat, so really only a quarter of what we need)!

What to do? What to do?
(.... interlude under the only shade tree for several hours, talking human resources....)

Ah - Ha! What is coming over the horizon? That's a Matatu (local public transport, see photo below)! And oh what luck, the driver of this truck is a friend of our driver and he lends us his spare tire. And we are off again, with the matatu spare that is too big for our car and rubs at every turn. And our original spare is low on air, but it'll have to do... Ah - Ha! What is that bumping down the road? It is a BIG truck, and a nice one! They have an air compressor and are very nice and fill up our half flat spare... And we are off again...

As we roll into Moyale (a boarder town with Ethiopia that hasn't much to offer) the spare from the matatu gets a leak! But we tax the tires and keep driving, leaking and all, to the hotel and park the car at the police station just as the tire becomes too flat to move.
We have dinner at the Prison Canteen "under da shades" and da stars.

(Just a note, the next day I fly back to Nairobi and having been in the bush eating goat meat for a week, Mario takes me out for Sushi. On the way to the restaurant ... you guessed it! We got a flat tire! 4 and a half flats in 36 hours. That's a pretty good record.)

Back to Moyale, the boarder town with not much to offer, as I mentioned. Moyale by night is not an exciting thing. But we let sleeping goats lie...

This is our hotel in the day time. The hills in the background might be Ethiopia. They might not be. Who knows.

Moyale Intenational Airport, Gate 3, Boarding for Nairobi
The pilot inspects the plane before takeoff and seems to spy a problem.
"Is it gonna fly?"

Not until we get the cows out of the landing gear!

Just kidding! That's not really our plane (and that's not the pilot, it's our watsan engineer). That's a dead plane on the airstrip (no African air strip, dare I say airport, is complete without a dead plane or two, see blog of "Welcome back Congo").
We made it back to Nairobi safe and sound.

***

On Kidnapping:

Each time it seems to get closer; hoping it's an illusion
like when the moon is on the horizon and it seems bigger.

*** *** ***

A few months ago I had a blog about “Kenyan Quickie” where I described my rapid adventure in toilet building in the camps that developed when people were displaced due to fighting and violence after the 2007 Kenyan elections.

So… 1 year later. Those political folks in the elections found a “power sharing deal.” There is a report into the violence on the table, with ultimatums of a Kenyan tribunal or the Hague. Personally, I can’t help but be skeptical. Is there real accountability, real responsibility, real closure? I can’t help but feel sad; those who were harmed, stay harmed and they are the ones who want this peace, who want reconciliation, who just want to live the life they have or had, who want their sons and cows and sheep and houses back. There’s a lot of fear and a lot of hope and my biased, skewed and skeptical view won’t really help fix the hurt either way. And neither will all the 378 latrines we built.

And yes, so 1 year later and we are closing our programs in that area (Nakuru) because it is time - the emergency is over, things are getting back to "normal" and the situation is outside our meager mandate. You can only save the world if you're focused, you know. But we built a lot of latrines and showers and water supply systems, some trash bins and distributed a lot of tools, jerry cans, soap, water filters, and other hygiene products and to top it off a lot of hygiene promotion (awareness raising). So what was the impact? Why do we do what we do? Well, we just did a survey to find out – and here is what we found. In areas where we worked people are twice as healthy (or half as many general illnesses); there is 3 times less diarrhea for children! People are 4 times more likely to drink potable water. So that’s nice.

Like I said, you can only save the world if you're focused.

Welcome back Congo

Bienvenue au Congo! Where the time flys better than planes. Where the solution to everything is a laugh, and if you forget that you'll end up in tears. Where everyone suffers - from the suffrance.
Where you can find views uninterrupted by mens hands or feet or cars or houses. Where the forest simply goes on and on and ... is just simply there and green. Where the forest is a jungle.
(The texture on the photo above are trees and trees and trees! The texture on the one below is termite mounds!)

Where termites rule. Spaced approximately 50m apart termite mounds made the plains dimply. (Googlearth Rocks! Which you may already know if you're on Facebook and are my friend. Which I scorned in the beginning, as I scorn Harry Potter, but am now addicted to, although I still scorn Harry Potter.)
Geeky side note: Termite mounds are facinating. The dirt in the mounds makes good bricks because it is fine particles that are well sorted. They say the mounds can often indicate water at some accessible depth (if i had some time and money i'd like to check this out and see if this is true).

Some things never change- like bad but beautiful roads. Like driving on barely a road, horn blasting to warn those up ahead to jump out of the way and you come through a wall of elephant grass to find five ladies blancing on the side, up off the road with fish in a plastic basin on their heads, or men scrambling with their bicyles. Like talking about the crops that are growing as we pass. Like kids swimming in the river in the rain with their mamas washing clothes on this rocks. Like bridges that are barely bridges on the barely roads. Like never getting stuck (at least for very long) despite the barely roads and bridges.
Like the ubiquitous humanitarian bumper sticker.
No arms on board.

No arms. No feet. No noses. No regrets for that matter. No radio (just the VHF for communication, where sometimes you find the BBC). No sense. A little non sense.

A short history of me and the magnificent Democratic Republic of Congo: After Peace Corps in Guinea I got my first job with this NGO in DRC, based between Shabunda and Baraka in the province of South Kivu in (see Flashback post) in 2005, where I worked for a year. At the end of 2005 I went to another region of Congo (because it is soooo huge and has such difficult logistics, no roads, we have 2 missions here) to help them out. That was South, in Katanga province, where I stayed only a month (but where I met Mario). Then I headed off to Mandera in Kenya, where I worked for another year, and again at the end of 2006 I came back to help out again in Baraka and Fizi - back in South Kivu. Somehow in 2007 I never made it here. Then in 2008 I have been here for 2 months doing an interim stint as the Coordinator. Whew. I just can't stay away, I don't know why... it drives me bananas! I don't like the music (Well I do dig JUPITER (see photo below)! I am tired of corruption (but it's getting better). But something here keeps bringing me back.... the jungle, the vrai bush, and the laughter perhaps.

Kenya Quickie

I was back in Kenya for the past 2 months (February and March) for a short mission being the WASH (water, sanitation and hygiene) program manager of the emergency response programme for Kenyans displaced by the violence after the elections. (Mission in my job means "assignment" - I assure you it has nothing to do with "missionaries" nor "top secret" missions.)

What a great time. I have learned a lot and working in camps, which has been a new challenge. Here are some photos. I am a bit cautious to comment on generalities, as the situation is quite political. I guess what was important for my life was the pace of work, the lessons learned from colleagues, analysis, protection discussions. Most memorable were the smiles of those who'd lost everything or who brought it all with them, stories and laughs and wondering where the truth is...

........

One man hid in a well for 2 days to escape people who were trying to hack him up. Then one day I saw a crow on phone line and it was wobbling, on the wire, all ruffed up with feathers sticking out all which ways, back and forth, about to fall off, back and forth.... And I thought of this guy in the well.

So with their houses burned they ran with nothing, or from just a fear of burning, rumors of burning they packed up their things. Some with nothing. Some with everything.

It is easier to show you those that packed it all up ... their chairs beds tv antenna , literately the kitchen sink.

Still smiling.

Not exactly welcomed to the stadium in Nakuru, but also not refused.
The showground had more people, although this picture was taken before they moved into this section of the camp. A bit strange like a ghost town for ghosts that have never been.
Some didn't feel safe in places like the showground or the stadium.
Some settled at polices stations all around the country, like this tiny group of ramshakle shelters made as just a roof from plastic sheeting with dirt floors. They felt safer there, the police to protect them, but they had no tents and rarely food.
In this camp (shown above) a baby had been born with no medical care available, the photo below was taken inside one of these tents with the mother (behind) and her sister holding the baby.
...............................................................................
My work entailed building a lot of toilets. I have never built so many toilets and showers and clothes lines in so little time. Here is a view from a top the water tanks looking out over the showground upper site - as you can see the folks had moved in by this time.
These are the water tanks from which the previous photo was taken. We, with the Kenyan Red Cross built the tanks and water supply. Good collaboration thanks to some speical people.