Majadiliano - a discussion
We now have everything we need to start building. To be able to think, I go for a walk. I go my usual way. Maybe a mistake. There are not many paths that I could go, here I am left in peace, that is important to me. Many greet me, some work in the fields, others come towards me.
It had rained that night, now the sun is shining and the ground is dry.
I meet a farmer, he comes from the field. His friend a little away.
"Mzungu, give me some money," he says to me.
"I don't have one," I replied, that is also true, I never go away with money in my pocket.
His friend shouts something to him, I don't understand it, it's in Swahili.
The farmer calls back: "They are rich! Everyone has a car, can afford anything! They are so rich."
I want to put it right, but this intelligent man is not listening. To him it is very clear that mongooses are rich! End and end!
I go on. One kilometer further on, a man and his son hold me up.
"Mzungu, help me. My son should leave the country. He should go to America."
It's the old song, no Kenyan wants to stay in Kenya, everyone just wants one thing, get away as quickly as possible.
First I have to explain to him that I am not American.
"Never mind Mzungu, anything is better than Kenya."
I am a little surprised by this announcement. Nobody has ever said it so clearly and clearly.
"Why the son?" I ask.
"I'm old. My son is still young. He should have it better than I've ever had."
I can understand that. A father worried about his son's future!
People are approaching from the surrounding houses. Everyone is curious what the mzungu has to say. Some let their work rest, come closer, surround me.
"I can't help, I'm a pensioner. I haven't worked for a while. I can only help establish contact with the embassy. I can't do more than that."
He is satisfied with that. I explain to him where I live, so that he can come over, I can help him if he wishes.
In the meantime some people have come. They stand around me, listening to what is being said.
One says: "Help me too, I want to go too."
I have to laugh. "What's going on?" I ask, "why does everyone want to leave?"
I know nobody is rich here. The fields are too small to be able to live well. The farmers don't need to go hungry, they can make ends meet, OK, more bad than right, but I've seen worse.
"You make a lot of money!"
It's always the same lyre. Money, money and more money.
"I have to explain that to you," I say. Everyone looks at me expectantly. The rich mzungu speaks. He speaks the truth and it doesn't sound too good. "First of all, I have to tell you that there is no ugali (maize flour) in Europe. We feed the maize to the chickens and pigs."
A big grumble sets in. I continue. "If there is maize, that is, this flour, it costs 300 shillings. Let's start with. Let's look at the earnings. I admit that sounds good in Kenya. A small income is around 100,000 shillings. Sounds good I assume that nobody here earns that much in a month. "
Approving hum.
"Now we have to look at what we can do or afford with 100,000 shillings. Let's take a few examples. For example, transport. If I drive into town from here, I'll pay 100 shillings. The same route at home costs 250 shillings. If I take a taxi this distance it costs 800 shillings. Let's see. 1 kilogram of bread costs between 150 and 450 shillings. Butter costs 280 shillings and that's a quarter of a kilo. "
A young man says: "It costs 50 shillings from here to town!"
I'm surprised! “I have to pay Mzungu price.” I can only shrug my shoulders. You have to be used to getting shit.
"I pay 5000 shillings a month for electricity and gas," I continue. "Now we have to look at the income. 100,000 schillings are not too much. With this income you can make ends meet, you can't really afford anything. I still have to pay the rent and it has to be. For 60 m2 you have to about 50,000 shillings are paid and that is still cheap. I can safely say that my pension is not particularly large, it is a little more than the minimum pension, but still so low that I get a compensation payment. Finally, one more thing, that nobody knows. It was in the newspaper yesterday. Anyone who earns less than 1240 euros belongs to the poor. In Austria there are 80,000 people who are poor, and we are less than 9 million people.
It's true, there are rich mzungus. There are some with good work, who earn well, who can afford a lot. The majority scrapes past the poverty line. "
Big wonder sets in. Nobody can believe that.
"What does an installer earn?"
"An installer can count on 1,800 euros. That is gross."
"What does gross mean?"
"Gross earnings are the salary that you get on paper. From there you still have to pay taxes, insurance and don't know what else. Net, after all these deductions, you have about 1500 to 1600 euros over."
"That's not a lot. What does a plane ticket cost?"
"That depends on the time of year. The prices are not always the same, they fluctuate. If a lot of people fly, it gets more expensive. I paid 60,000 shillings."
An elderly man stands up. "Thank you! Now I know my way around."
They all go. The work is not a toad, it doesn't skip away, has to be done. I also go on my way. I just wonder where will my path lead me?
I saw the life inside your eyes
So shine bright, tonight you and I.
We're beautiful like diamonds in the sky
Maybe I saw that. I hope so for both of us. Goethe wrote it very aptly: '... women, they spin and weave, heavenly gifts in earthly life.'
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