From Silicon Valley to Swaziland by Rick & Wendy Walleigh (read aloud txt) đź“–
- Author: Rick & Wendy Walleigh
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Wendy’s work in the booth was interrupted when the emcee of the show called her up to the stage to participate in the dancing. She did a credible job, but in a later discussion with colleagues was very self-effacing and repeated the cliché that white people can’t dance. Her Kenyan colleague reaffirmed the perception saying, “I’ve noticed that. Even in the discos. Why is that?” Wendy muttered a vague answer about being something cultural and not being as exposed to music as children. After a long day, we rode back for hours over potholed roads, but both of us felt very good inside.
Over the next week, Wendy and I both anticipated our upcoming visit to the exclusive Muthaiga Country Club, made famous by White Mischief. We had each read the book about the rich colonialists of the 1930s who lived in Nairobi and farther north around Lake Naivasha where they owned large plantations. The management of the plantations and households was typically delegated to trustworthy local employees, so the owners had little work to occupy themselves. They filled their time primarily with their social lives, which featured heavy drinking, some drugs, and extensive sexual encounters with each other’s spouses. The Muthaiga Country Club, which is still a prestigious country club on the northern edge of Nairobi, was at the center of these activities. Wendy had been dying to visit it since reading the book, but we didn’t know any members.
Eventually, some new friends invited us to the club to hear a recital by a pianist touring from the United States. It was interesting to me that a country club would have sponsored this type of event. Perhaps the club maintains an old tradition of bringing culture to the hinterlands or perhaps just wants to demonstrate that they are not the Muthaiga Club of old. I was already convinced that there had been change since the first person I saw when entering the club was an African woman, presumably a member, at the bar casually having a drink. There were also a number of Africans attending the recital. We asked our friends about the legends of White Mischief.” They said the culture still exists, and that although not so overt, the activities still go on. It would not have been obvious from the mostly geriatric audience at the recital, but who knows; maybe they’re really carrying on the old traditions.
Nairobi streets and sidewalks are congested with entrepreneurial sellers of all sorts of common goods, such as pictured here, secondhand shoes.
Next door to our first Nairobi apartment, a building looked as though it was constructed of tree branches, which actually comprised the scaffolding for pouring concrete.
In the TechnoServe Kenya office in Nairobi, Wendy poses with some colleagues who worked with her on the Young Women in Enterprise and Upscaling programs.
Wendy and colleagues judge participants in one of Young Women in Enterprise’s regional business plan competitions in Juja, a small town northeast of Nairobi near Thika. Since some girls only spoke Swahili, Wendy often could only take notes on their confidence and demeanor.
The banana program is a typical, well-run “value chain” in TechnoServe Kenya’s portfolio. Senior Business Advisor Henry Kinyua explains to visitors how his team helps farmers grow high quality bananas, then sell and transport them to market.
As part of TechnoServe Kenya’s banana program, staffers teach farmers how to install valuable irrigation to improve harvest size and quality.
A female farmer in TechnoServe Kenya’s banana program is guided on how to install drip irrigation, to plant the best seedlings, and optimally care for them to improve the crop yield.
TechnoServe Kenya staff teaches farmers how to sort the harvested bunches into quality and size groupings to get the best prices when they go to market.
Rick and Wendy visited several of TechnoServe Kenya’s Upscaling program’s clients including Aspen Orchards & Dairies that produced yogurt drinks, seen being hand-sealed and labeled, for local markets.
On our trip to the Outspan Hotel in Aberdare National Park in central Kenya, we briefly visited Nyala Dairy, another TechnoServe Kenya value-chain success.
One typical means of east African transportation is “boda boda”— often-overloaded taxi-motorcycles seen here on the outskirts Kampala, Uganda. “Boda boda” is loosely translated from “border to border” since these vehicles transport lots of legal and other goods from borders of adjacent countries.
During Wendy & Rick’s trip to Murchison Falls National Park, 300 km northwest of Kampala, Uganda, they had to wait for a not-always-timely ferry to cross the Nile River to their hotel.
Local villagers fish for Nile Perch along the Nile River in Murchison Falls National Park, Uganda.
TechnoServe partnered with Kenya’s Ministry of Youth Affairs to send Believe, Begin, Become teams across Kenya in order to recruit thousands of youth to compete in regional business plan competitions. This was the crowded recruiting event in Nyeri in central Kenya.
Unexpectedly Wendy was called up to the stage to dance at the Believe, Begin, Become recruiting event in Nyeri, central Kenya. She proved once again that white people can’t dance relative to native Africans.
Nakuru, Lamu, and Tsavo
Not having a car made it inconvenient to get out of Nairobi for short excursions. However, we eventually got so restless that we resolved to rent a taxi for the day and visit nearby Lake Nakuru Park. We had heard that the park was especially attractive because of its abundant flamingoes, in addition to rhinos, buffalo, and the usual gazelles, etc. Although the park is only fifty miles north of Nairobi, it was a two-hour drive. That gives you an idea of the quality of the roads. Actually, the poor quality of the main road was even recognized in Kenya, and it was being reconstructed. This was great news for the future, but it didn’t help us much. We did enjoy the short section of road that had been recently rebuilt. However, for the rest of the trip we alternated among bouncing along the old pot-holed road, cruising on the dirt shoulder, which had been widened to take cars around the construction, or creeping through a long detour on an acceptable, but slow, road through rural towns. I was glad our taxi driver, Steve, had the responsibility for contending with the roads, not me. Wendy and I just lounged in the back seat, absorbed the bumbs, and breathed the dust.
As we went through the small rural towns, poverty was clear and omnipresent. Commercial areas usually consisted of the African version of the strip mall, including a few concrete block buildings often brightly painted to advertise a national brand such as cell phone service, bottled water, or even paint. In front of the buildings was typically a large flat open space of bare dirt. In the United States, it would be the area for parking cars, but there were very few cars. It was often occupied by “kiosks,” roughly constructed stalls where mostly women sold fruits, vegetables, and sometimes a variety of other goods. In some areas, there was activity only on market days. In other locales, the activity was daily. In either case, we saw a lot of people moving around in a small area, but it was never clear how much money was actually changing hands. Coming into and out of these areas were donkey carts, hand-drawn carts, bicycles, and an occasional truck, all loaded with various supplies or produce.
The markets seemed to be working, but at a very low level. People weren’t starving, but they were barely getting by. Roughly half of the people in Kenya lived on less than a dollar per day. As we told our friends about our experiences in Africa, we tried to make sure that we didn’t just describe the beautiful scenery and the fascinating wildlife. We wanted to give them a total, clear picture.
After driving through the town of Nakuru, we arrived at the park and began our journey through the forested and open areas surrounding the lake. At first we saw just a few relatively unimpressive animals. As we approached the southern end of the lake, we saw a herd of rhinos, more than we had ever seen together, just grazing in a field of grass. We knew enough about African game to see that these were white rhinos. We learned that they had recently been reintroduced to the park from South Africa.
After lingering to watch the rhinos, we proceeded around the lake to the western shore where, in the distance, we saw a pale pink blur blanketing the edge of the lake. We weren’t sure if we were seeing mineral deposits or some pervasive plant life. As we got closer, however, we began to make out the individual bodies of flamingoes. The number of flamingoes was astonishing, probably more than a million, densely packed together just feeding and preening. Occasionally, one would run around the crowd seemingly very purposeful but headed to do who knows what. More amazing was the sight of a few flamingoes taking flight. Seeing them standing in the water, it’s hard to imagine how such an ungainly creature could actually fly.
After observing the flamingoes from the mudflats that form the lake shore, Steve suggested that he drive us up to the bluffs that overlook the whole park for an expansive and impressive view. As we drove up the road with a sign to Baboon Cliffs, Steve said he would stop at the viewing point. Driving up to the heights, we occasionally glimpsed the fantastic panorama. Unfortunately Steve had only been to the park one time before and consequently we missed the viewing point and the turnoff back to the park entrance. When we eventually got to an intersection, we realized that we were in the far southern end of the park, having gone about twenty kilometers out of our way. Fortunately, the route to the exit was clearly marked, and we followed it. The trip back to Nairobi was bumpy but uneventful. Overall, we had enjoyed a great experience.
As we got out of the car, we noticed how dusty it was. We then realized that it wasn’t just the car that was dusty. Wendy and I were both covered from head to toe with a layer of fine red grit. As I showered later, the tub ran a rusty red as the water flowed away from my body.
Later in the evening, Wendy was lamenting the fact that Kenya didn’t have the wonderful frog sounds that had been a near constant evening refrain in Swaziland. The intensity varied by season, but there always seemed to be background croaking for any nighttime outdoor activities. Once, during frog mating season we had gone to dinner at Finesse, a restaurant beside the Mbabane River, and we had to yell across the dinner table to be
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