The Beach Boys

Hey Folks,

Well, it has been a while, hasn’t it. I hope this post finds you well. It’s been a busy few weeks for me and I apologize for breaking my promise to post once a week. Well, here is a new post to slake any curiosity you may still have about my life in Kenya. Thanks, as always, for reading.

This post is all about beaches. As you may know, Mombasa is right smack on the coast of Kenya. Mombasa itself is actually an island. But to the north and south of the island lie a plethora of incredibly swanky beach resorts that cater to the desires of a heavily European clientele. The resorts are gargantuan and are comparable to the ones I have visited on various vacations to the Caribbean in terms of quality of service and quality of infrastructure.

            Work is tough here. Because we all live on campus and work on campus, the vast majority of our life here is spent within the confines of the Academy. Most of the Teaching Fellows jump at any chance they get to escape and see more of Mombasa and Kenya, even if that means just going out for dinner (which happens generally 3 times a week). As I have mentioned, I will post about food soon (I promise!). The food here is fantastic as long as you are outside of the Aga Khan campus. Most weekends that I haven’t been on duty, I have spent traveling.

           

            Anyways, two weekends back, right after my most recent post went up, my friends Lindsey, Safiya and Jacob, and I headed down to South Coast, an area called Diani. The only way off the island of Mombasa to the south is by ferry. The ferry is stationed right next to, literally abutting, AKA,M. On the weekends they generally have three to four of the large flat-bedded ships churning through the water. It is truly a sight to behold to see the ferries unload. The guard on the boat snaps back and releases the taut rope holding back the revving motorcycles and matatus. Once it hits the ground, the motorcycles speed up the ramp and into Mombasa followed closely by the matatus that have a much harder time dragging themselves up the inclined ramp. The lumbering trucks and buses are off last and by the time they creak and groan off the ferry the human flood has begun. What seemed at first like a reasonable amount of people somehow transforms into a veritable swarm. The entrance to the ramp, a few moments ago releasing the last cars becomes clogged with people. Those first off run up the ramp to catch a matatu or taxi while the rest of the people are in no rush at all. They pushcarts full of fruit, carry large sacks of charcoal or tug children along behind them, children oblivious to the crush of people around them. It takes almost ten minutes for the ferry to unload its human cargo before the guard waves the vehicles on for the next trip.

            After the brief and painless trip on the ferry, we hopped on a matatu and for about $1 made it all the way down, about 30-45 minutes, to where our cottage for the night was located. Our accommodations were sparse, but more than adequate. Four beds, one bathroom, one shower. Perfect. We even had access to a pool and the beach. Double check.

            The hotel also housed a number of Colobus Monkeys, apparently the Diani region is the only habitat for these monkeys in Kenya. Exciting stuff! I have very inadequate information on them, so I apologize. But there are these cool bridges that people have put up across the roads there so the monkeys run above traffic rather than through it. Conservation efforts are alive and well in Diani.

            There was still plenty of daylight left so we made our way down to the beach to grab some lunch and enjoy the sun. Upon reaching the beach we were immediately set upon by Beach Boys. These are not the Beach Boys most Americans or Europeans are used to, these guys have no immediately apparent musical aptitude for soothing beach tunes, rather these men seek to provide services to people on the beach. Some of these men, the younger ones generally, provide “services” to generally older European women. Sex tourism is a large sector of the Kenyan economy whether authorities that be in Kenya like it or not. It is not out of the ordinary to see an older white man or woman clasping hands on the beach or nuzzling up at the bar to a much younger, more robust Kenyan. It would be rash to assume these are all client/ prostitute relationships; however it certainly is reasonable to assume that most are. These people escape their lives in Europe or the US to come to Kenya, away from any prying eyes (that know who they are) to live out their fantasies in an idyllic beach setting.

            The other beach boys were the ones more interested in our hardy band of Teaching Fellows. These guys sell anything a touristy beachgoer could possibly desire: key chains, bracelets, coconuts!, shells, and marijuana. They are relentless. No matter how many times you wave them off, they come back for more. To quote the late, great Obi-Wan Kenobi: “The sand people are easily startled, but they’ll soon be back… and in greater numbers.” Truer words have not been said. We settled down on our towels and pulled out our books and were the picture of relaxation. But soon enough, “Hey, my brother from another mother! Are you relaxing?” Me: “Yes, as I am sure you can tell.” Relaxation over. Next follows an offer from him to sell us something, and then five minutes of us telling him we are not interested and if he could please leave us alone. Two minutes after he leaves, another man shows up with a similar approach, as if our minds had changed in that short span of time.

           

            I know I sound callous. Our interactions with these men defined our weekend. We came to relax but we were consistently frustrated when it came to be that our every interaction with any Kenyan had to involve some transaction. Whether we were walking to a restaurant and a man joins our group to chat, inevitably, a few minutes in, he asks for a small fee for showing us where to go, even though we were well aware of our direction and final goal. These men are forced to invent jobs for themselves where they force themselves on tourists and seek to squeeze out every bit of money they can.

            Much of the economy of Kenya is based on tourism: safaris, Mt. Kenya, the beaches, etc. With the recent political unrest with the riots as well as the actions of the Somali pirates, Kenya has been placed on a number of travel warning lists by countries like the US. What this warning means is that US insurance companies will not cover travel and health insurance for their customers while they visit Kenya as it is too risky. Therefore, many people cancel their trips or decide to go somewhere else. This leaves Kenya in somewhat of a rut. These beach boys, who survive off of the little odds and ends extracted from tourists, suddenly have a massive drop in potential customers. Therefore, their behavior towards us is somewhat explained. They need to double their aggressiveness and efforts in order to make even a fraction of what they were before.

            Our group had many debates on how to deal with our situation. We first felt that if the people were not selling a product that we wanted to buy, we were completely justified in refusing their advances. After a few hours, we wanted to refuse them on purely personal grounds, out of sheer frustration. We eventually caved and paid for a few hugely overpriced coconuts and some cheap key chains. These purchases led to another onslaught of beach salesmen all demanding we “promote” them and when they were rebuffed, we were greeted with looks of distain. It is an immensely frustrating situation. Obviously, I am living here and teaching Kenyan students, doing what I can in small ways to better the future of this nation. I want the country and its people to do well. But to pay out a couple hundred shillings to every man I run into on the beach is not only not sustainable with the paycheck I get every month, but it is also not sustainable for the men who seek the payment. If I pay out the money, it only encourages the continuation of what is obviously a profession of desperation, but also one that fails to develop the people or country in any way.

            So I am confused and obviously conflicted on this issue. It’s hard to see, but only so much can be done. And on the selfish side of things, its hard to escape from a truly crushingly hard week of work and be faced with moral dilemmas and having to constantly ward off people. I appreciate any thoughts or comments on this issue. Readers! I ask you to be my moral guide.

            Well, I have more to say, but it will have to go into another post as this one has rambled on for a while.

Not all the interactions we negative! These kids were fascinated by the cover screens on my Kindle.

Speaking of moral dilemmas, check this one out. Lindsey Thompson, a fellow Bowdoin grad, submitted this question to the New York Times ethicist after a conversation we had about the women we pay to clean our apartments. Article below:

http://www.nytimes.com/2012/09/23/magazine/a-tidy-sum.html?ref=magazine

Thanks for reading,

-Mzungu currently confused and cashless after a weekend at the beach

Haller Park

             After our rowing escapades (See Previous Post), Jacob and I headed up to Nyali to meet Safiya, University Counseling Guru and fellow teaching fellow. Safiya hails from Atlanta, Georgia and has also been here for a year already. I work very closely with her on University Counseling stuff and we have become a force to be reckoned with when it come to proofreading personal statements and, more recently, schmoozing with University representatives. We met in a café called Cafesserie, which I will be writing about in more detail later.

            From there we headed to Haller Park. In the 1950’s, the area the park now encompasses was an in hospitable hole in the ground. It was a quarry for the Bamburi Cement Company which mined the area to its full potential; upon seeing what they had left behind they decided to rehabilitate the area and hired a man named Rene Haller, hence the name of the park. In the 1970’s Haller planted a number of trees in the area that were able to adapt to the harsh environment and were able to pave the way for other organisms to adapt to the area. Today, the park is 1480 acres of lush vegetation that acts as a park and somewhat of a zoo. As the Bamburi mining company’s activity expands, so does the footprint of the park.

            We made our way into the park, paid the entry fee, and set down a light blanket to relax on for a few hours before the animal feeding times began. Jacob had baked and brought a fantastic looking ginger cake to the gathering that we were all looking forward to enjoying.

            Our nestling place just happened to be in a clearing that was also home to a cohort of monkeys: the males had robin’s egg blue testicles and the females had inch long nipples that stuck straight out of their chests. Nature is fascinating. They were used to humans being in close contact with them as the park is a highly visited place so they had no problem with us being there and frolicked within feet of our blanket. We were enjoying the shade and a good read when I looked to my left and saw a strange creature about the size of a weasel with brown striped fur making a bee-line towards us. Safiya jumped up and shouted “That’s the mongoose! Watch out!” Apparently last year, while visiting the park, the same mongoose had bitten a volunteer at the Academy, requiring him to rush to the hospital to get a rabies shot. Yikes.

            We cleared out and let the beast snoop around a little bit but soon enough he had discovered Jacob’s bag, and with it, the cake. With a ferocious snarl and a quick snap of the head, the mongoose tore through the tin foil and began ravaging the succulent cake beneath. An employee of the park ran up and delivered a few sharp kicks to the overzealous creature, but it maintained its assault on the cake. A few more blows later and the mongoose scurried off towards the trees. But soon enough it was back for more. I waved my foot at it in a semi-threatening gesture and it bared its sharp, ivory white fangs at me and bit my rubber sole. Being the cowards we apperently are, we gathered up our things and relocated far away from the pugnacious rodent.

            We resettled near a large sculpture of a whale made entirely out of recycled flip-flops and to our pleasant surprise discovered a giant tortoise! It was a rather large reptile and was probably twice my size if I had curled up into a ball. We were told it was still “young” in that it was only about 100 years old, a tortoise teenager. Jacob took a special liking to the lumbering animal and, as it was a much less obtrusive guest than the mongoose, we stuck around. About twelve of the giant tortoises roam the park freely and guests are allowed to touch and feed them.

            We quickly discovered a strange characteristic of this fascinating being: when stroking its neck, where one might imagine its chin to be, the tortoise would slowly lift itself from its resting position on the ground as if doing a painfully slow pushup. It seemed completely unfazed by the motion and it would keep chewing away at the grass it had in its mouth and looking around slowly from its new vantage point. Once the scratching stopped, it would lower itself back down with a squeaking sound like a screen door creaking closed. It would perform this strange feat whenever prompted. I guess to get the age of 100 you have to be in pretty good shape anyways, so I don’t know why I was surprised by its pushup ability

            After spending some good, quality time with the tortoise, we headed off to the giraffe habitat during their feeding time. As we strode up, we saw a crowd gathered around the fence of the enclosure with their hands splayed out in front of them. The giraffes were striding quickly towards the peoples’ outstretched hands. Turns out, there is a man who sells pellets for feeding the animals for 50 KSH, about 60 cents. Guests are allowed to feel these elegant creatures by hand!

            Naturally, I bought two bags. Safiya and Jacob had already visited the park and fed the giraffes, so they were less enthused than I, but the didn’t turn down the free pellets and had a go as well. Safiya claimed to have kissed a giraffe the last time around, so I, of course, had to attempt to recreate the feat.

            Giraffes have insanely long tongues that are surprisingly dexterous, as I soon found out. I went through one bag of feed testing the abilities of the animals. The larger ones often overpowered the smaller ones in order to get closer to the food. They could stick their tongues out about a foot and hold it there and twist the end around to grab, actually grab, things from your hand. It was amazing.

            So I put a pellet in my mouth, a long one so it jutted out and caught the attention of the giraffe. I slowly moved the food in my hand closer and closer to my face until the feed in my hand ran out. It reached out its long, purple tongue and licked the entire right side of my face, from forehead to chin, before nabbing the pellet right out of my mouth. I wiped the giraffe slobber off of my face and cheered. Mission accomplished. Gross for sure, but a story for the grandkids.

            There were two other feeding sessions (one for the hippos and water buffalo and one for the Crocodiles!) but both were less exciting and visitor inclusive as the giraffe one (obviously for the best as I wouldn’t want a crocodile grabbing food out of my mouth). I have pictures and videos that are pretty fantastic, so I will post those below.

            Also, on a randomish side note, my junior year at Bowdoin, one of my best friends, Tina Curtin, recommened I read Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood. I enjoyed the novel but never really figured out what an Oryx was, or a Crake for that matter. Well, Haller Park has its own Oryx population. I now know what they are, and what they look like; they are beautiful deer-like animals that have great noble antlers and faces that look as if they have been painted for war. Lots of pictures below!

The Entrance

Walking Tree

The large Whale made of flip-flops

Side angle!

Our Primate companions

Foreshadowing

Safiya and Jacob and Friends

Don't disturb the animals

Look at that tail, it's about three times the length of his body!

Is that not the ugliest bird you have ever seen?

A wild mongoose appears!

Chase used zipped backed pack... it's not very effective

I call this one "Mongoose Aftermath"

The Tortoise

Foot close up

Jacob and his new friend

Oryx

I think it likes me

Safyia, that giraffe is really going for it

Bewildered

Best shot of the tongue I was able to get

What a strange looking beast

Jacob and Safiya

Water Buffalo

Ok, humor me for a second. In Return of the Jedi, the guards at Jabba the Hutt's Palace on Tatooine look kind of like this hippo, right? I think I am going through Star Wars withdrawl.

Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, anyone?