After One Month in Kenya…

Meghan Mathieson

MBA Candidate 2014 
Sauder School of Business

After one month in Kenya…

I shake hands with everyone, at every meeting – formal or casual – no matter how many times I’ve met them before.

My reaction to seeing white people is, “they look strange”.

I automatically go to the left side of the car to get in the passenger side.

I like eating boiled pumpkin for breakfast.

It is second nature to switch on the hot water a while before I want a shower.

I expect children to chant “howareyou” and rush to hold my hand.

I’ve grown attached to my insanely cheap cell phone.

Chip stands, hair salons, cyber cafes, and entertainment shops are the business types that occupy most of my waking hours.

I’m accustomed to drinking bottled water.

I can cause a riot in the classroom with nothing more than a handful of sweets.

I don’t go out on foot after dark.

I’ve learned that soap is valuable currency in the Maasai Market.

When our driver slows down suddenly, it is either to maneuver an unmarked speed bump in the middle of the road or avoid a bus that has just pulled out into traffic.

I expect the unexpected with sidewalks and other infrastructure (often in a dubious state of repair).

I realize that informal settlements are teeming with activity at all hours of the day.

I can always smell something burning in the air.

I expect advertisements to be at least the size of a four-storey building.

I could buy almost anything from a vendor walking through rush-hour traffic: bananas to phone chargers to hats and sunglasses to superhero posters.

Only muzungus blow their noses on paper tissues. Kenyans use handkerchiefs.

I know that a smile is a language that everyone can understand.

Now that my time in Kenya is drawing to a close, I find myself wondering where the time went. Our month of teaching, exploring, discovering, and making friends has gone by very quickly. I did not expect to become so close to my students; it was a wrench saying goodbye with no idea if I will ever see them again or know if their business plans worked out. I will certainly try to stay in touch with those that have email or Facebook access.

After our last day of class, our students took us on a tour of their community. We spent over an hour walking through a few of the many villages that make up the Mathare Valley, seeing shops and homes, illegal stills brewing and animals grazing, children playing and men talking. The four of us teachers gave our cameras to our students to take photos for us, a task they embraced with enthusiasm. We saw an impromptu dance demonstration by two members of Ghetto Marvellous, a local dance group. Their moves were emulated by a half dozen children who wanted to show off for the mzungus.

I had mixed feelings about our experience in the slum. Our students were so excited to show us where they lived, but it was difficult to think about the way I live and compare it to how my students live. Just because I had the good fortune to be born in Canada, my life is much more comfortable and secure.

When we were talking about problems in the community in the first week of the program, security was a problem that came up frequently. I can’t imagine life where I never felt safe. Our students talked about how people don’t leave their homes after dark, which occurs at 7 PM, and most homes don’t have toilet facilities. Most homes also don’t have electricity, so doing anything – work, study, fun – after dark is difficult. One of our students had his home broken into and his course binder was among the things taken from him. Fortunately, I had an extra one to give him.

Another thing that really struck me about Mathare was just how complicated a system a community like this is. I can’t really blame the government for not wanting to acknowledge that it even exists. There are so many people packed into such a small and completely unplanned space. Because it is in a valley (a former quarry), when it rains, houses flood. There is no consistent garbage removal. Some of our students previously tried to clean up one of the informal garbage dump areas (just beside a main path), but people just kept on dumping there. Food is costly because most people eat prepared food. Buying ingredients to cook for yourself is expensive, particularly cooking fuel, and often not feasible given the lack of security. Having a lot of food or money on hand just isn’t safe.

The past few months, preparing for and being in Kenya, have certainly helped me understand some of the complexities around international development work. I still don’t know what the answer is to a situation like Mathare, but I hope our efforts to teach basic business concepts will help a few people reach a more financially and physically secure place in life.