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:
Thanks for reading,
-Mzungu currently confused and cashless after a
weekend at the beach
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