Amputation!

Well, not really, though at 5am in the morning after a completely sleepless night due to the pain all sorts of weird and disturbing possibilities were going through my sleep deprived head. The pain was from a seemingly innocuous and small graze on my right elbow that, due to my oversight of not putting something on it as soon as it had happened, suddenly became inflamed from infection late one evening. It swelled up to twice the size of normal, was a nice bright red colour, and the pain... well, let's just say that for someone who has had broken bones, torn tendons, and various other sporting injuries, this pain was as bad as anything I could recall.

So at 5am in the morning, the light barely starting to break in the east, I was a little concerned as to my infection.

When I finally overcome my embarrassment at having such pain from such a small graze (yes, seriously, I was a little embarrassed about it) and woke my friend I was staying with in Nairobi, we organised a trip to the local hospital. Now of course this was a major issue in and of itself, trying to decide which hospital would be most reputable and clean and using sterilised needles... etc. However unlike other areas within Kenya, Nairobi is a fairly westernised city with a lot of expatriates, diplomats, and indeed wealthy Kenyans, and the medical facilities reflect this. In the end went to a hospital around the corner called the Coptic Hospital, staffed it seemed by Egyptian and Israeli medical staff.

So everything seemed to be going kosher (excuse the pun!), until I walked into the doctor's office, and the first thing he said was, "Hmmm… don’t like the look of that, maybe we'll need to operate."

Well, probably no need to tell you the first thoughts that ran through my head (and besides, kids might be reading this, so better mind my language – kids, do your fucking homework and don't do drugs!), though I will say that I did have some concerns about whether this guy had my best interests at heart, or if he just liked cutting people open? Anyway, after this initial scare, I did swing him around to prescribing me some penicillin and painkillers and seeing how that worked first.

Yeah man, gimme them drugs!

Three days later, and though still a little red and tender, the drugs seem to be working... fingers' crossed.

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World Cup tickets? Anyone...?

Well, just in case someone happens upon my little blog with some spare World Cup tickets... (hey,never know your luck in the big city... or the big World Wide Web!).

If anyone happensto have a ticket or two spare for any of the Aussie games,and feel kind hearted enough to donate them (or sell for reasonable cost - profit making scalpers, forget about it!) to little old me working hard for humanity in Kenya, then please do get in touch.

And you will have my first born... (though will need to find a suitably agreeable mother first)... and my left testicle... and my sister's kids too (though may have to chat with my sister about that one...)!

Hey, whatever you want,it's yours!!

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Possession: False alarm

I'm sure everyone will be as disappointed as I was to learn that our housekeeper's husband is NOT actually possessed, but instead is suffering from a strain of malaria known as cerebral malaria, which can "induce changes in mental status and coma. It is an acute, widespread disease of the brain which is accompanied by fever. The mortality ratio is between 25-50%. If a person is not treated, CM is fatal in 24-72 hours." Not pretty.

After his exorcism didn't achieve the desired result he agreed to go back to the hospital where they diagnosed his illness. So now he's on the required medication and should be back to good health within a week or so – and we get our housekeeper back! Yay! Am not the most adept at hand washing my own clothes... and there's only so many times I can turn my undies inside out to wear again!

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Extremism + Media = Idiocy

We're expecting protests in Nairobi today, so the warning's gone out to vacate the city centre by late morning (which meant a cancellation of a couple of meetings). The protest is to happen outside the Danish Embassy, in protest to those infamous cartoons...

Mentioned it to one of the old dears at the East African Women's League, basically an organisation made up of white Kenyan and expat women of a slightly "older" generation, and she referred to them as "Muslim idiots". I didn't think she was really the kind to engage in a discussion on the various factors coming to play in the issue.

The key word is extremists. I've lived and travelled fairly extensively in muslim countries, and in many areas of every day life they ain't no different from you or I - they want to live peacefully, bring up a family and enjoy what life has to offer. Unfortunately an ugly mix of an extremist minority, media portrayal/persecution, and historical western policies has come to a head over the past number of years.

Interesting info I heard from a cleric recently (can't recall where, sorry), that most of the so called "muslims" who involve themselves in violent protests in many parts of the world cannot actually even read the q'aran in it's original language, and are relying on someone else's translation/interpretation of it - which is then open to all sorts of abuse, obviously.

Regarding the Taliban as representative in any way of Islam is a bit like regarding those who bomb abortion clinics as being representative of Christianity.

Something I've dwelled on for a while now (and perhaps it's worth a study one day) is how much of what is occuring is the result of the media-dominated society we live in nowadays? Would we be seeing the same scale of cyclic responses if not for the instantaneous conveying of "news" and imagery that occurs in our modern world? There have been other examples (plenty) of extremism in the name of religion over the centuries, and I'd be curious to compare the scale of previous instances with regards to how quickly or otherwise news spread. Whilst this is all completely fucked up, from an historical perspective it's a very interesting time to be examining the confluence of events, technology and socio-political factors that have lead to where we are now. And to where the hell we're heading...

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The Exorcism of our Housekeeper's Husband...

I'm not sure if there will be any head spinning or projectile vomiting, but apparently the husband of our housekeeper is possessed by demons. Well, according to himself and the local priest anyway. However Anne, AFC director and qualified social worker, believes his symptoms (voices in his head) sound like the classic symptoms of schizophrenia, but he has discharged himself from hospital and refuses to take the medication that has been prescribed to him. He believes that a handy exorcism will send him on his way. I'll keep you posted.

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The Smell of Poverty

It was the smell that hit me first. A mix of raw sewage, human sweat and various other odours of waste and rubbish carried on the wind. That and the dust, dust everywhere, blown across the bare, red earth by the unrelenting wind that had sprung up today, causing me to shield my eyes with my hand lest I be blinded. It was a change from the usual still day in Thika, with barely a breathe of air and the sun baring down overhead, that was more common. I wasn't sure what was worse, no wind and the unrelenting sun, or this strong breeze that cooled the day somewhat but blew dust everywhere. In Kiandutu both seemed equally unbearable.

Kiandutu is an area just outside Thika town. The most common term used to describe the area is "slum". I have been told that it is the second largest slum area in Kenya. Having not yet been into another I can not qualify this claim, however with around 50,000 people inhabiting the area (of a population of around just 300,000 within the Thika area as a whole) it was certainly of a size that posed more than enough challenges to my newly humanitarian-focused sensibilities.

As with the bare earth, the predominant colour was red. An orange red to be more accurate. The earth, the dust carried on the wind, the walls of the houses and structures - built themselves from hard packed earth mixed, I'm guessing, with some ingredient that kept the walls together. Could it be manure used for that purpose? Not sure at all, but seem to recall some distant memory of a documentary describing earth, manure and water being used to build walls in some part of the world.

Not that water was especially plentiful in Kiandutu. Most of Kenya has been suffering a terrible drought for the past three years. In Kiandutu, there were a limited number of water taps, and each was "owned" by a person who charged others for its use (exactly how one person "owns" a tap and another does not, I am not yet aware of). Two Kenyan shillings (about 4c Australian) a bucket/container, which doesn't seem much, until you consider that many of the Kiandutu inhabitants might be making less than 20 shillings a day. So those with the taps in effect possessed hard currency, able to be traded with others for items of value, whether it was cash or items of food.

This was not the only sign of commerce within Kiandutu. A clothing store greeted my arrival to the edge of town. Small grocery and general stores dotted the streets. I came across one guy collecting manure (from the goats roaming the streets I'm guessing?), forming a huge mound for the purposes I'm presuming of selling (perhaps for making houses?). Along one particular street I counted a half dozen or so video "cinemas", small sheds with sound blasting from within, showing anything from the latest Hollywood blockbusters to classic kung fu or Chuck Norris movies, all for 20 shillings (40c) admission charge. Hence the inverted commas around my first use of the term "slum". A slum would seem to me a place where the inhabitants have neither hope nor opportunity, however it seemed that those around me here were trying as much as possible to make what they could of their situation.

And the kids. Playing in the dirt, clothes falling apart, and yet always so quick to smile. Try and tell me that they wouldn't make the most of the opportunities available to us in more developed countries.

I had come to Kiandutu to meet with a Community Based Organisation (CBO), one of a number that existed both here and in other "slum" areas closer to Nairobi. These organisations are formed by community members, who then try to help themselves and others within their community in a variety of ways. Some are based around a particular vocation or trade, others work with the local children on a recreational level and try to give them some other distraction than the streets with which to fill their time, and often integrate health education into their activities.

One particular CBO, in Mathare, the second largest slum area in the Nairobi area, has been such a success they have a football team in the country's top professional league, and I have been told are in the running for a Nobel prize. I am also due to visit a CBO in Kibera, said to be the largest slum in Africa (and where part of the recent movie, "The Constant Gardener" was filmed), who have had great success with a model built around recreation, health education, and sharing and teaching of vocational skills.

Apart from the fund raising and sponsorship I am seeking for our street children programs and centres, I am very much trying to learn what has gone into a successful CBO, and if at all possible facilitate the replication of similar models within other communities. Long term improvement within the urban areas of Kenya is really only going to happen by a combination of two things: improved level of public services from a government level, and a desire for the community to help themselves as much as they can. I have seen hints of both developing, so hold hope for the future.

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