KENSUP

I have undertaken a project in Kenya, researching the progress of a countrywide urban development program, known as the Kenya Slum Upgrading Project (KENSUP). I make an everyday journey to one slum in particular, Kibera.

Facts about Kibera:
• It is the second largest slum in Africa, and one of the largest informal settlements in the world
• The total population is unknown, but it is estimated to be between 600,000 to 1.2 million people (up to 25% of Nariobi’s total inhabitants)
• The area is approximately one square mile (less than 1% of Nairobi’s total area)
• It is estimated that Kibera houses one-fifth of Kenyans living with HIV

As I walk to the border of Kibera, I can see no movement within the slum. It looks peaceful, inhabited, yet lifeless; a sea of corrugated rusted metal crammed tightly together. Then I hear life. Children playing, people yelling and even talking, all at once, I hear it. It sounds like I have stepped into a buzzing amphitheater. The people here are real and alive.

KENSUP attempts to transform the informal “slums” into government-controlled apartments. Residents of Soweto, a neighborhood in Kibera, have been placed in a holding area, deemed “the decanting site,” for several years while the government upgrades their homes into formal settlements. I have never been sure of how many people live in the decanting site, but I would estimate it is between 1,000 and 2,000 people.

For some, the project offers a new opportunity, but for many, it means eviction. In the decanting site are flats, each flat has three bedrooms, a kitchen, and bathroom. Citizens pay more money than they are used to to rent these apartments; many lose their tax-free rent and income from their businesses. Shop-type home businesses are unable to function in the flats, away from the large customer base of Kibera. However, the site provides reliable water and electricity; it is sanitary and trash-free.

I go to the decanting site everyday to research the living conditions and interview its inhabitants, to ask them about the changes in their lives since moving out of the slum. The first thing I learned about Kiberians is that they are the friendliest people I have ever encountered. Their openness and generosity, despite having so little, have astounded me. I was immediately accepted into their home, although I felt like I was intruding. My good friend, Florence, suggested that I come live with her. Florence is a superb English speaker and has translated the majority of my interviews (as I can speak simple Swahili but have difficulty deciphering it when spoken. It is the same with the residents’ English skills). I have been invited into many homes, been given juice, and have had to decline when they offer me more. Although it may be rude in Kenyan standards, I tell them, “I would rather it be saved for your children.” My other friends, Edwin and Rebecca, have each given me tours of the site and strive to help me with my research. Two days ago, Florence told me she is going to nickname her newborn Kelsey.

Through my visits, I learned that Kiberians were at first skeptical to move into the decanting site. The government of Kenya is at times unreliable, and often steeped with corruption. However, when faced with eviction though demolition, they often have no choice but to comply. Upon arriving at the decanting site, many have told me that their lives became much better. There is constant water and electricity. In the slum, drinking water is fetched with a bucket because the water and sewage pipes are mixed.

In the decanting site, the environment is clean – no “flying toilets” (The toilet-human ratio in the slum is about 1 to 50, so many times human waste is thrown out the window). Kibera’s foundation is built on trash and is very unstable. In the decanting site, however, women are happy to allow their children to play outside without fear of diseases from the sewage. Unfortunately, living in the site is damaging to the income of the displaced residents. Running a business is incredibly difficult, as the decanting site does not have the large customer base of Kibera. The majority of women set up small stands to sell vegetables, fruits, or other goods, but they are not permitted to move their business outside the decanting site, and no customers from the slum may enter the decanting site from outside.

Overall, the women believe the program to be good. But they need loans and capital to jump-start their businesses and to help their fellow women. Although the decanting site offers many advantages over the slum, its residents are earning less income and paying more rent. When I asked what would be most beneficial to their families, the women respond, “money.” They need money to support a family in the decanting site, and, most importantly, to send their children to school. Many have asked me for a sponsorship for the education of their children.

The government claims that the housing is only temporary, and it estimates that they will be able to move back to their homes in three years. But the government does not provide any nearby schools, and three years is a long time to go without education. The first thing I noticed was the children playing in the decanting site during the weekday afternoon. Many children play all day in the decanting site, as school is too far and too expensive.

The women of the decanting site asked for me to help them obtain sponsorships for their children. In Kenya, primary education is “free.” But it is nothing like the U.S. public education. Families must buy books, mandatory uniforms, and provide daily transport for their kids. In even some schools, they must buy their children a desk or the children will sit on the floor.

BBC's "Nairobi Slum Life":

Into Kibera
An Evening in Kibera
Kibera's Children
Escaping Kibera

A donation organization, Children of Kibera

Central Market Area in the Decanting Site

Market Again

Monument in the Decanting Site with Florence and her baby on the left and several children residents

The view of Kibera I see as I walk to the decanting site everyday

The KENSUP Sign

View of Kibera

Children playing in the Decanting site

Children playing outside the decanting site

My young friend on his balcony in the decanting site

Decanting site

Laundry and Fence separating the decanting site and Kibera

My friend Edwin tuning his TV. He is quite successful as a Marketing Exec in Nairobi. He lives alone.

A sink in an apartment

A kitchen

View from a balcony

ZANZIBAR

My parents left on New Year's Eve and then I spent a few days in Nairobi. On January 5, my classmates Tegan and Emily, Tegan's brother, Henry, and I started our journey to Zanzibar, Tanzania. Zanzibar is a beautiful island just off the Tanzanian coast. We awoke at 5am, to take a taxi to the bus station. We waited for an hour, while being harassed by an insane person. We loaded the bus and were handed breakfast. Then we sat. And sat. And sat. For 15 hours. We finally arrived in Dar es Salaam, Tanzania, at 10pm, feeling exhausted and angry at the bus. We stayed at the YWCA that night. The next day we set out, after our miserable YWCA breakfast, to obtain ferry tickets to Zanzibar. As soon as we reached the coast, we entered a frenzy of men pulling us towards every boat office. After an hour of searching and debating, we finally found what seemed to be a reputable one, exchanged our Tanzanian Shillings into US Dollars to pay, and sat in their nice office air conditioning for a little bit (AC is rare in Nairobi). We ate and began our next task, to buy return bus tickets to Nairobi. What we didn't know, was that this task was to be one hundred times more difficult and exhausting than buying ferry tickets.

We found the "dalla dalla" (Tanzanian version of a matatu, much more tame and peaceful) that goes to the bus station, and when we arrived we swamped by at least ten aggressive men trying to direct us to a certain bus office. It seemed impossible to talk amongst ourselves, as these men were butting in and physically pulling on us. It was also impossible to talk to anyone in the offices, as the men interrupted with what they thought we wanted. Finally, our yelling and angry comments subsided most of them. Except one: a horrible man, who kept getting in our way as we were trying to make decisions and who I repeatedly told, "Sipendi wewe" (I don't like you). Finally, we had made our decision and we started toward our decided office. Then, we saw him coming, Em started sprinting and so did I. Em entered the small office as I turned to cut him off, pushing his chest with my East Africa Guidebook. As Emily was exchanging information and buying the tickets, I was outside the office, telling the man, "Kuna matata!!!" (there is a problem) and him saying, "Oh, no. You make mistake, its: Hakuna matata" (No problem). "HAPANA! NAJUA! KUNA MATATA!" (No! I know! There is a problem!). Finally, we successfully left with tickets in hand and the promise of a shorter bus ride, while the man went to collect his undeserved commission.

The next day was Zanzibar Day! We ate our last unfulfilling breakfast and went down to the port again. We loaded the ferry and we squeezed below deck with no AC or breeze, and yet again, I got motion sick (odd, since I have never been seasick and ride boats all the time at my lake house). So Em and I climbed up to the bow, packed with people and cargo. We met a Caucasian, malaria doctor, documentary maker, who told us that Zanzibar hasn't had electricity for a month. Jaw dropped, I imagined our trip ruined. No power = no ATMs = no money = no accommodation or food.

When we reached Zanzibar, we discovered that many places used generators, which ruined the some of the majestic qualities of the island, but in all, was a lifesaver. We found a little place to stay, the Haven Guest House, where I would continue my bucket showering and Em, Tegan and Henry would get to experience the novelty.

On Zanzibar, we had a routine:

• Wake up early to a wonderfully prepared and included breakfast
• Partake in an organized tour arranged by our hotel
• Return and shower
• Head to Livingston’s for Happy Hour on the beach
• And then to the food extravaganza in the park (tables and grills lit by lantern scattered across the park, offering fish (all kinds!) kebobs, fruit, pizzas (chocolate was the favorite), and juice. And then sometimes to watch boys jumping off the pier or lightening flickering over the ocean.)

First day we went on a spice tour, learning about the methods and uses and then sampling the spices grown on the island. Then we were dropped at a beautiful beach to swim and snorkel.

Day two we went on a dolphin tour. We had been warned by my guidebook that “dolphin tours cannot be recommended due to their hunt and chase tactics.” But we just had to try it. We got our gear and set out on a rickety boat to join other boats, that were encircling a pod of dolphins. Although, it may have been one of the most memorable experiences of my life, it was torture for our aquatic friends. They really did use “hunt and chase tactics” since the dolphins were so fast. But as a swam above them for awhile, I could hear their clicking communication and was entranced by their gracefulness. There were even babies. Em was able to even swim in the pod among them for a few minutes. We returned to the coast with jelly fish stings and guilt.

The third day, Henry and I opted to go on a snorkeling tour, while Tegan and Emily stayed to explore Stone Town. We were picked up on the beach by a dhow boat filled with Polish couples. Then we rode for two hours and survived 6-foot waves in our little boat. We arrived at the famed snorkeling spot to find a hundred other snorkelers already in the water. I got in, begrudgingly, and made my way through the pack. Then I saw the most awesome scenery: coral, fish, drop-offs, and scuba divers. Henry and I loaded back into the boat an hour later. Soon, the boat turned toward the Zanzibar shore. We were made to jump into the unstable water, with coral, and not kill ourselves. But we were surprised by a wonderful rice, fish and fruit lunch (no fish for me!) and views of the most amazing beach I have ever been to. The waves, sand and scenery were perfect.

The fourth day was leaving day. We went to the Darajani Market, which Tegan and Em had found the day before, and a alley that I deemed: “Khanga Heaven.” Exotic colors and patterns of the fabric lined the street. It was a buying frenzy.

We left the island on a much nicer boat, arrived in Dar and went straight to the place where we saw a “Subway” sign. Inside, we actually did find the American restaurant Subway and Em, Teg and I ate our first bites of American food in months. Magical.

We strode to the YWCA to find there was no vacancy there or in the YMCA. Panicked, we searched the guidebook and even considered paying $150 to stay in the Holiday Inn. However, a pushy taxi driver said he knew a place and offered to drive. The “Holiday Hotel” looked quite sketchy from the outside, but was much nicer than the YWCA at the same price.

We woke up early again and made our way to the bus station. We rode a bus not as nice as the first one and actually arrived in Nairobi an hour later (due to a road block). We had returned safe, after one of my most favorite vacations of my life.


PHOTOS

December 2009

December 2009 was a whirlwind of final papers and vacation planning. I completed Kiswahili II, Gender and Development, Geographies of Development and African Political Science. I was also going to my ICRP (Integrated Cultural Research Project) internship when I didn't have class. I intern at Shelter Forum.

Then classes ended and my parents and brother came that day! We stayed in Nairobi for a bit, learning about traffic and matatus, then went to Maasai Mara, Lake Nakuru, Lake Naivasha, Amboseli, Tsavo West, and then to the coast: Malindi and Mombasa.

Family Vacation Photos