Mombasa, Kenya

Living in a Kenyan village 

I spent six weeks volunteering in villages outside the coastal town of Mombasa in Kenya from September through mid-October. This was easily the best and the worst trip of my life, with the good far outweighing the bad.  Intense and vivid, humbling and enriching, it was a travel experience like no other.

Important disclaimer: My experience would likely have been drastically different if I were a tourist or lived in Nairobi or even the Mombasa town itself.

Instead, I lived with a host family and worked with some of the most disadvantaged population groups in rural Kenya. I witnessed how people hustled to survive and have fun at the same time. As tough as they were, Kenyans knew how to laugh abundantly and had boundless love to give, making them one impressive resilient group. My experience was all about encounters with such people.

Living Conditions

Challenging at best. Comfort was not part of the local living experience.

My first accommodation, which was a 2-bedroom volunteer house in a bustling village called Bamburi, did not have running water. The scheduled government supply of water came in trickles (4x a week for a few hours). Unable to even wash my clothes, I moved out after 2 days.

I switched to a host family in the rural Shanzu, populated with street stalls and traditional single story houses. My three-generation host family consisted of six adults and two children, who occupied four bedrooms, and had additional rooms for volunteers. The rooms were lined along L-shaped open sky corridor where cooking and washing (dishes and clothes) took place. Thankfully there was an overhead shower and a western toilet.

Despite the improved housing situation, I struggled with the environment of fume-filled air, streets saturated by litter, smoke from burned trash, and humidity rising above 90% too frequently (temperature was in 20-25 degrees Celsius / 70-80 degrees Fahrenheit).  There was a constant stream of noise starting with Islamic prayer at 5am, and blackout was common.  And without the modern amenities, everything took longer from washing clothes to making tea.  Life was not easy.

In spite of all the discomfort, I felt torn apart to leave the place in the end.  My host family was extremely welcoming. It did concern me that everyone seemed to be looking for a job except the parents (father had a vegetable stand and mother took care of the household). The dire employment situation was blamed on the presidential election, which had brought much uncertainty and dampened the important tourism sector. Nevertheless, there was no shortage of laughter in the family, and “Hakuna matata” (Don’t worry) was their motto.

The sense of joy winning over desperation extended well beyond the family.  The village was filled with the most cheerful, fun loving, and affectionate people, united by a strong sense of community. They looked after each other and capitalized on any opportunities to have fun. They constantly complemented one another (“You look smart!” – really means you look nice, not intelligent). Kenya made you tough and soft at the same time.

I loved the people so much that I ended up shortening my sightseeing itinerary in order to spend a few extra days in Mombasa with the people that had newly become my family.

Localizing

This was an extensive process involving getting my bearings, learning to navigate chaotic transportation system, studying Swahili (though many spoke some English), and familiarizing with local customs. It took good ten days before I started feeling comfortable and another ten days before I started behaving like a local (e.g. demanding changes) and really having fun.

Pickpocketing seemed highly common, though I was fortunate to not experience it myself.  I received countless warnings to guard my phone better by locals.  I made a habit of wearing my iPhone and cash inside my shirts. Otherwise it generally felt safe, though I did avoid going out at night as there were no street lights.

Initially, I was bewildered by all the stars from adults and children and being called China or Mzungu (white person.. really?). On my first weekend, I ventured out to a local public beach with a young Kenyan girl who was the caretaker from the first volunteer house. The beach was packed with rowdy preteens and teens, who, upon spotting me, called me China, mocked Chinese accents, and mimicked Kung Fu movements. Unexpectedly, I got a bitter taste of what it was like to get blatantly discriminated.

I quickly realized that the trick was to understand the local people and culture. After learning that locals commonly greeted strangers, I studied basic Swahili and began greeting every person who looked my way on the street in Swahili, proactively and preemptively and complete with a smile and hand gesture, in order to force respectful response. This proved not only effective but also fascinating cultural experiment. The payoff was huge.

It was mesmerizing to watch harsh stern faces transform into the biggest smiles. I also started aggressively correcting everyone that called me China, also in Swahili. The result: laughters and profound apologies. Groups of motorbike drivers and stall ladies began greeting me “Japan” affectionately, and some even wanted to learn proper greetings in Japanese. The final step was adjusting my looks by wearing popular kitange wraps and getting my hair braided, which the locals loved (not only fun but also effective in dealing with 90% humidity).

Once I got my basic bearings, I started jogging to a nearby beach and joined a local gym that was tucked away on a secure corporate campus of Bamburi Cement Company. For $10/month, I enjoyed unlimited personal training by the gym manager, who helped me prepare to hike Mt. Kilimanjaro (my next post!). But more importantly, the gym exposed me to the working class population and added another dimension to my experience.

Within a few weeks, I went from feeling utterly unwelcomed and discriminated against to feeling like a rock star. It was a painful exercise but worthwhile to become part of the community, where I found nothing but good-natured people with much love to give.

Food

I primarily ate breakfast and dinner at home with my host family and lunch at local restaurants (~$2/meal) in the areas I volunteered. Kenyan cuisine tended to be simple with minimal spices and centered on carbs. This was a sharp contrast to the Japanese diet I grew up on, which prized variety and balance. But that was not the only reason why I struggled with food.

I quickly realized I was the only one who ate proper lunch as I witnessed a group of students share a plate of fried potatoes at Wa-Kesho vocational school. It was even worse at Tunaweza disabled women’s group where many ladies had mobility challenges in addition to economic issues. Occasionally, someone would go fetch bananas or bread for everyone. A few times, they generously brought in pots, a fire pit, and ingredients to cook local specialty dishes for me to try. But otherwise, there was no lunch.

At home, my host family sourced ingredients primarily from their own garden and bought little from the outside. Meals typically consisted of carb (ugali – cornmeal dough, rice, or chapati – Indian flatbread) and cooked vegetables or beans, which I enjoyed. But their refrigerator was rarely plugged in, and staples like dairy was entirely missing. I frequently supplemented meals by doing my own grocery shopping.

My favorite dish was Wali wa Nazi coconut rice, which they called “special rice”. I came to really appreciate it after witnessing how much manual labor went in to prepare it from shelled rice. It was indeed very special.

Commuting 

This was where I had some of the biggest culture shocks. The most common way to get around was shared vans (called matatus) which drove on fixed routes. Though regulated, they liked speed (hang on for frequent off-roading), music, and filling themselves to max capacity. It was not uncommon to find giant TV screens playing loud music videos (regardless of the time of the day) behind driver’s seat, blocking you from seeing outside. This was a problem when you had to knock to announce your stop.

During one ride, a baby boy was handed to me by a random stranger who sat next to me, without saying a word (she held a newborn herself). I was even more shocked when the mother later moved to the back for a better seat, again without a word. Amazingly, the baby looked around to find no mother and then fell asleep anyway.. Evidently, Kenyan resilience starts early.

Volunteering

I wanted more than a standard tourist experience, and volunteering seemed like a good way to immerse in the local culture and give back.

After much research and contemplation, I chose “Women Empowerment” program offered by a New Zealand-based organization (Love Volunteers) based on cost, mission (helping women build sustainable lives), transparency (disclosed how volunteer money was spent for many programs), and flight availability (US$750 for Chicago – Nairobi round trip!).

Through the local volunteer manager, I was introduced to two Community Based Organizations (CBOs), both of which aimed at helping women gain sustainable income for themselves and provide for their kids. Neither of them had a website and would have been otherwise nearly impossible to find.  I could not be more grateful to have come across those two incredible organizations and their extraordinary people, which I am delighted to share with you below.

1) Working with Women with Disabilities (Tunaweza Women CBO)

Formed in 2000, Tunaweza (means “Yes we can”) pursued two objectives: a) to advocate for the rights of women with disabilities, and b) collectively run a business to generate sustainable income to provide for themselves.

Tunaweza was comprised of fifteen members with disabilities and mothers of children with disabilities. Almost all the members were single mothers, and many were devoted Christian. They could not take the common transportation method (shared vans), nor could they go anywhere that was not on the ground floor. Employment opportunities were scarce, and begging was viewed as the only other realistic alternative. But they made me feel like family right away and looked after my need to localize (they insisted I get my hair braided).

Business activities were done on a small scale and included making and selling baskets, bags, accessories, and reusable sanitary napkins. But when I arrived, they were preparing for a commercial launch of all-natural peanut butter products with a new high capacity equipment underway (donated from a government affiliated fund). I ended up spending the majority of my volunteer time marketing this product.

Despite all their limitations and small group size, the impact they have had on the society was far reaching and life changing for many. They were responsible for initiating disability movements in Mombasa. In 2016, they got women with disabilities to be elected into Mombasa County government for the first time. They even managed to get medical exam fees waived for persons with disabilities so those people can obtain government cards necessary to receive disability benefits (previously the prohibitive ~US$15 fees prevented many from going for necessary exams and hence receiving benefits).

I was in awe when my colleague Lucy turned my shameful lack of awareness into an opportunity to climb stairs for the first time since a devastating accident 9 years ago (I took her and another colleague to a coffeehouse when we were in town for business, unaware it had three steps at the entrance).  Supported by two men, Lucy’s trembling feet slowly advanced with grave efforts. Each step was a triumph of human determination, which culminated into a glorious victor over mind and body. Our subsequent lunch at the Swahili style Jahazi Coffee House was the most memorable meal of my trip.

2) Vocational School for Teenage Girls (Wa-Kesho)

My initial assignment training teenage girls at a vocational school CBO called Wa-Kesho (means “of tomorrow”). They took in at-risk girls from the lowest class, even when their families could not afford to pay school fees. Skills taught included tailoring, dressmaking, soap making, cake baking, and typing.

On my first day, as I arrived at a crowded cluttered room tucked away on a church property, I was met by cheerful chants of “Welcome!” and “I love you” by the students. Though my skill set was not the best match there (the only thing I could teach was typing) and I shifted my focus to Tunaweza, I enjoyed returning there once a week. The flood of greetings repeated each visit, mixed with the addition of “I missed you!”.

Wa-Kesho was started in 2006 to help empower young girls amid proliferation of prostitution and drug and substance abuse among them. Since the inception, 420 girls have undergone training as dressmakers, and 75% of them are now earning livings using those skills.

Today, the school is run by two members, Jane and Kamau, who had remained through much hardship while all the others had left (there were ~20 members initially).  They manage the school full time but have not paid themselves from the school’s fund, which is collected from families and donors. To support students who can’t pay school fees as well as their own families, the two sell select high quality products such as virgin coconut oil, amaranth, and kikoy woven cotton, which they make using equipment donated from government agencies. Thanks to their extraordinary efforts, all 20 graduates last year managed to find employment or started their own businesses.

If you would like to donate to either organization, please follow the links below.  We thank you for your generosity.

1) Tunaweza Women:

https://www.gofundme.com/tunaweza-organization (works better for credit cards)

https://secure.changa.co.ke/myweb/share/15034 (Kenyan platform; lower fees)

2) Wa-Kesho vocational school:

https://www.gofundme.com/wakesho-organization (works better for credit cards)

https://secure.changa.co.ke/myweb/share/13988 (Kenyan platform; lower fees)

Diani Beach Escape

To be honest, I didn’t expect much in a way of beach experience from Kenya, especially after the horrifying public beach encounter described earlier. Diani Beach proved me wrong.

Located ~35km south of Mombasa, Diani Beach offered a long stretch of mesmerizing white sand beach with translucent water. Despite being populated by resort hotels, it felt laid back and unspoiled. It quickly became my favorite weekend escape.

Getting there from Mombasa seemed daunting at first but turned out to be manageable: a free public ferry to get out of Mombasa town, a matatu shared van, then a tuk tuk.  In all, it cost less than 200 kWh (US$2) for the 1.5-hour journey (vs. +$100 by taxi).

Stilts Treehouse (http://www.stiltsdianibeach.com) offered a refreshing escape from the city at under US$30/night, with access to a nearby boutique hotel’s pool and facilities right on the nicest part of the beach.

Nairobi

I realized how unique my Mombasa experience was when I spent a few days in Nairobi at the end of the trip.  Nairobi was a sprawling modern city and nothing like Mombasa.  The central business district was clear of litters, and their matatus felt more like regular buses (with just really loud music).  And no, you did not greet strangers on the street.

Undoubtedly Nairobi would have been much easier to break into. But after getting accustomed to the Mombasa lifestyle, I missed the friendly community feel of Mombasa. But I was relieved to find familiar warmth and playfulness underneath indifferent masks whenever I chatted up with the locals.

Due to the presidential re-election when I was there, the city felt quiet and was without its notorious traffic.  I happened to drive through an election rally in the city center and Kibera, one of the largest slums in Africa where streets were burned down just days before, but thankfully did not come across any violence.  Now that the president elect has been re-announced, I pray for peace and unity to return.

Safari and Maasai Village 

Safari was the perfect way to cap off my stay in East Africa. I was delighted with a 3-day camping safari trip to Maasai Mara, organized by Axis Africa Safari (http://axisafricasafaris.com).  I never tired of close-up encounters with lions, elephants, giraffes, zebras, wildebeests, and countless other animals.  I had to hold down temptations to get out of the van to pet the animals.

The trip came with an optional visit to a nearby Maasai village and an opportunity to mingle with the famed Massai tribe. It provided a rare glimpse into their long preserved traditions and lifestyle, centered on cattle herding. Wearing visible red wraps to fend off animals and fused with warrior spirit, they demonstrated how to survive on natural resources and talked of losing members to wild animals. I deeply respect their choice to remain intertwined with nature and entirely disassociate from modern convenience.

Post Kenya

During the past two weeks since I have been back in the U.S., I have become keenly aware of the lack of community feel where my home was supposed to be. I kept sensing more separation than inclusiveness. But now I have confidence that it is entirely possible to connect with strangers with small efforts if you are open to it.

As I transition back to the western world, I intend to make it a point never to forget to have fun. After all, what is the point if you stop smiling?

Resources:

Tunaweza Women donation links: https://www.gofundme.com/tunaweza-organization (works better for credit card); https://secure.changa.co.ke/myweb/share/15034 (Kenyan platform; lower fees)

Wa-Kesho vocational school donation links: https://www.gofundme.com/wakesho-organization (works better for credit card); https://secure.changa.co.ke/myweb/share/13988 (Kenyan platform; lower fees)

Love Volunteers: https://www.lovevolunteers.org