A Foreigner In Kenya, Chapter 10

 Wakulima

I am not a farmer, that has to be recorded. I grew up in the city. I have no idea about cultivation.

Well, where I am there are a lot of farmers. All around me only fields.

I stay in the facility for the first few days. After a few days I made friends with the children. When they see me they come running, kill me, climb on me.

I often sit on the veranda with the Divine, the sun is shining, it's warm. Blue sky, not a cloud to be seen.

"There's no rain this year," she said. 

"He will come." I answer.

The drinking water is running out. There is no water, not in the house, there is a well in the complex, water has to be fetched there, it is not drinking water, only suitable for washing. The boy gets it.

The drinking water is getting less and less, and I'm slowly getting concerns. After a few days the rain is finally here. It pours. We have to wait until the roof is clean. Yes, really, a European won't believe that. First the roof has to be clean, of course, then the water that runs off the roof is also clean. We are ready! We wait for the clean water with all kinds of vessels. Finally we get the OK from the Divine, we all rush out, collect the water that comes from the roof. How nice it is to get wet! Finally no more sun, finally it's raining!

Water is life. 

I learned that here. In Europe you forget everything, I go to the tap, turn it on and fresh drinking water comes out. Easy in Europe, difficult in Kenya.

I'm going for a walk, there's a path that I'm going along. Right and left fields. The farmers work in the fields. I always thought that working in the field had to be nice, now, when I look closely, I have to realize that it is not so. Working in the field is damn hard. The fields are not big, the farmers work by hand. Very hard work. I have to recognize that Kenyan farmers achieve a lot, earn little and hardly have enough to live on.

The divine is God's concern: man. My concern is neither the divine nor the human, not the true, the good, the just, the free, etc., but only what belongs to me, and it is not a general one, but - unique, as it is human beings. And I have to admit that these people are unique.

As usual in Kenya, there are two churches on this short distance that I walk. Nothing works here without a church! There are also many stalls. Everyone tries their luck, starts a business, thinks they will get rich. "Soda" (soft drink), soap and bananas are sold. Little things for daily needs. I am spoken to from all sides: "Buy me a soda!" Big or small, it doesn't matter, they all want only one thing: soda!

Children are amazed, so are the grown-ups. Everyone is in rags, hardly anyone who can afford a nice robe. Many have no electricity or water. Like me, children haul water containers. It's not easy, it's damn hard! Life is a path of suffering that we have to go. I don't know if it gets better if it changes. But it has to be different if it is to get better.

What I quickly find out is that there is no entertainment. There's nothing else here but work. Soon I know the only entertainment here is getting drunk. Alcoholic oaks lie senseless by the wayside. I see her every few days. I have to understand that too.

As already mentioned, the way is not far. There is a stream where I go. People say it's a river. A bridge leads over it. It's a nice place to rest. I sit down, listen to the water. It's peaceful here after the hurdles on the way here. It still sounds in my ears: "Buy me a soda!" It gets on my nerves. Bodaboda drive past, everyone is amazed. Some shout: "Mzungu, habari!" Someone stops, comes to me, talks to me. The same questions are asked. Where are you from, who are you, what are you doing here, are you married, do you have children, where is your home? I answer them. And the same question over and over: "Give me 100 Bob." This question repeats itself, like prayer in the Church.

Every mzungu is rich, has to be rich, there is no other way. Mzungus come to Kenya with pockets full of money! I can tell you one thing in advance: no rich mzungu comes to Kenya. The whites who come here are not rich. There are a few exceptions, the eight businesses that have money, but compared to Europe they are not as rich as a Kenyan might think. These profiteers are here to make even more money. Kenya is a paradise for capitalists. Those who are really rich avoid Kenya.

I have no teaching. I'm just showing something. I show reality, I show something in reality that has not been seen or not seen enough. I take him, who is listening to me, by the hand and lead him to the window. I push open the window and point out. I don't have an apprenticeship, but I have a conversation.