What do I actually do all day?

In writing my list of things not to write about on a blog (Your bank details, Your secret membership of the Klu Klux Klan, Your addiction to alcohol/drugs/tea/highjinks*, How you used to fancy Maggie Thatcher, How you still do fancy Maggie Thatcher, How you think you are Maggie Thatcher), I noticed that nowhere on that list was talking about what you actually do at work. But I actually never do. So ...


Rubbish in Nairobi is a problem. Well, rubbish anywhere is a problem - but there's a lot of it in Nairobi. Unlike trees which there are increasingly less of as people keep cutting them down to turn into charcoal. A couple of weeks ago I met a Kenyan who wants to set up a recycling plant which will turn rubbish into charcoal. Neat idea huh. So today, I tried to work out how he could do it profitably. And if so, we might be able to invest.

*Delete as appropriate

Five things since I Iast blogged

(1) Jon invites a work colleague round for lunch. "Can I bring my sister?" "Course you can." Friend and sister arrives. Sister looks very familiar. "Hang on, aren't you the woman who sits and begs on our street?" "Yes." "Great. Tea of coffee?"

(2) Jon decides to cook a pancake. I wonder what happens if you accidentally drip hot oil in the blue flame. Oh look a massive fireball.

(3) Lisa visits school with NGO she is volunteering with. Attends session on sex and relationships. Session starts with a rendition of 'Heads, shoulders, knees and toes'. Turns out there's a second verse. "These are my private parts, private parts, private parts and no-one should touch them, no-one should see them, no-one should play with them." With actions.

(4) Lisa and Jon hire a 4*4 and Jon drives it round an almost deserted gamepark. Oh look a massive bit of mud. Oh well, how sticky can mud actually be. Apparently, very sticky. Car stuck. Fleeting idea of proceeding on foot abandoned due to wild - possibly man and woman eating - animals. Lisa half way through count of number of days food supply will last when spinning wheel suddenly gets traction. Huge sigh of relief as car launches forward. At least we're through it now and on our way. Five minutes later: "Crap. I've read the map wrong. This isn't the right road after all."

(5) Jon starts job no three. With company that grows artemisinin leaf and converts it into anti-malarial treatments. Not such a funny story - but feels kinda significant.

So, what have you been up to?

Nairobi Village

Lisa is singing in a concert today (and yesterday actually - and yes, I am going to both). As you may have guessed from this, she's joined a choir - the Nairobi Music Society to give it its full name.

Watching the choir perform yesterday I had three revelations. Firstly, my wife has a great voice. Secondly, all you really see of a conductor during a performance is his butt. Thirdly, in some ways - as an expat or middle-class Kenyan - Nairobi is a bit like a village.

For at the concert not only did my friends manage to spot (in an audience of 300) 'that woman from the gym', 'a teacher at my school' and 'that dutch guy I met the other day'. To add to the village fete feeling, we also spotted the UK Ambassador to Kenya and the head of the ongoing Peace Talks. Not bad considering this is a choir which doesn't pay any of its singers or even hold auditions. Having said that, they probably all just came to hear my wife.

Tribalism, bad. Nationalism, good?

"Nationalism is an infantile disease. It is the measles of mankind." [Albert Einstein]
"We need to put tribalism behind us and remember that we're all Kenyan" [The leader at my church, in the height of the troubles]

It's funny how allegiances can look very different in different circumstances. In 1918, after the loss of a generation of Europe's young men, an unquestioning allegiance to one's country - so praised in the years proceeding - began to look unmodern, dangerous and ignorant.

Following the crisis in Kenya, it is tribalism that is under attack, and nationalism suddenly seems the hero of the day.

In today's world where rationality rules, any allegiance is an easy target. For a rational allegiance isn't an allegiance at all - it's a contract. And yet, who wants their friendships reduced to contracts? I believe I am a richer person for feeling a debt of duty to my family, my friends, my university college, my church, my faith, my fellow red-heads, the first firm I ever worked for and - yes - even to my country. Preventing conflict by destroying my allegiances feels akin to creating equality by destroying wealth.

Perhaps who we ally with isn't what matters. Perhaps what matters is how we perceive those outside the allegiance - the 'others'. In which case, maybe the solution isn't less allegiances, but more. Until there are no 'others'.

What do you think?

Things that could kill me in Nairobi

(1) Fumes from the cars (there seem to be no rules about how much black smoke can come pouring out of your vehicles)
(2) Cars generally, especially Matatus (again seem to be no rules about slowing down if a somewhat confused ginger-haired, white chap is in the middle of the road)
(3) My inability to pronounce Matatus. I keep asking for Matatas - which means trouble (as in Hakuna Matata). In other words, I'm the idiot walking around town asking where I can find trouble.

Other than this, Nairobi is actually much safer than westerners seem to think. So far I haven't been (and yes this is a massive exercise in tempting fate) mugged, pick-pocketed, attacked or even looked at funny. Apart from the person I had a work meeting with yesterday, who spent the whole meeting grabbing furtive glances at my hair. Somewhat annoying. Similar I would imagine to how a woman feels when a man keeps on pretending not to be staring at her breasts.

At the end of the day, or course, the main causes for dying in Nairobi are dirty water, diseased food and living amongst sewage. We can't ignore the fact that I continue to live in luxury out here. Thinking of death makes me write a joke in a blog, it makes other Nairobians remember how their children died of cholera.

South Park, Football and Another Point of View

In case you’ve never seen it, the South Park is a foul TV show, constantly verging on borderline blasphemy, racism and obsenity. However, it is also at times extremely funny. It tells the story of four third grade cartoon students: Stan, Kyle, Cartman and Kenny and their everyday (or not so everyday lives). Like all good borderline blasphemous, racist, obscene cartoons involving third grade cartoon students, South Park also sometimes really makes you think. In one of my favourite episodes, the four boys enter an international handball championship with their school. Amazingly they excel and find themselves in the Handball Under 11 World Final, which is hosted in China and pits them against a Chinese Team.

With the game about the start, the camera zooms in on three Chinese men sitting by the side of the pitch wearing suits and holding microphones. Chinese TV’s commentators for the match. They sit there in staid conversation discussing seriously the likely fortunes of the Chinese team. Then suddenly something changes. As the American boys team start running onto the pitch to warm up, one of them puts his hands to his eyes, shouts something and then all three convulse with laughter. The camera zooms in, and all you can hear from our Chinese men, now on the floor with laughter is, “Look at them. Look at their big fat eyes.”

How do you respond to that story? Maybe you’re deeply offended? Or maybe you’re wondering whether it’s racist or not? Or who it’s racist against – the Chinese or the Americans?

I propose another response. That sometimes it’s just nice to look at something from someone else’s point of view.

I had my own South Park Handball moment last week while sitting in a Matatu on the way to visit a friend. On the radio (always played as loudly as mechanically possible) were two Kenyan men discussing the fortunes of the English Premier League (an obsession out here). As I listened they began discussing British football commentators.

As Brits may know, British sports shows take great delight in playing audio clips of certain African or South American football commentators. These clips sound something like this:

So I thought of South Park, when these two Kenyans reflected,

Kenyan 1: “Those British Commentators – hilarious. It’s like they’re in a library!”

Kenyan 2: “I know, it’s like this, “Oh and Tevez has indeed got the ball. And he is moving frightfully fast with it. And he’s brought back his foot and struck it ever so cleanly. And yes that is a goal. What a good goal that was. Very nicely done.”

Me and Kylie

When Kylie Minogue first went on talkshows in America she always carried with her a copy of Vogue magazine. Then whenever someone mispronounced her name, she would pull out the magazine and say, "No Mi-nogue, like Vogue".

I'm currently looking for a suitable picture of Bill Gates for me to carry so that the next time someone calls me Mr. Yatt-ess (probably first thing tomorrow morning), I'll be ready.