Tuesday, January 1, 2008

"Is this the Kenya you used to know...?"

That was the question posed to me by a group of four or five men standing in an abandoned gas station the other day. I walked by with my friend Rachel (we had gone out in search of more charcoal and food) and we exchanged nods and acknowledgements of the sort that you can only share with people who are experiencing exactly what you are experiencing in the place and at the time you are experiencing it. Only a few seconds had passed after those sympathetic nods and crooked smiles when one of the men (wearing an orange, ODM hat) turned to us and asked, "is THIS the Kenya you used to know?" Though I've only called Kenya home for 7 months and, in my heart, only considered it home for much less than that, I couldn't help but turn to him, half smiling. "No," was all I managed to respond.

We just got moved to an incredible house on the tea plantations just outside Kericho. We were picked up this morning by a private, gov't vehicle, and they dropped us all off here. Things here are, to say the least, comfortable. The compound we are on is owned by the Walter Reed Project, who have a base in Kericho (I really don't know much about the organization; something from the US and military related). We are actually staying in one of the two guest houses. They should really be called guest mansions. I'm feeling really guilty, actually, having raided all three of the fridges (one is full of frozen meat and chicken), messed around with the satellite TV, and claimed one of 4 hardwood floor bedrooms. There is a kitchen the size of Marcus' entire house, complete with 2 ovens, 2 microwaves, a stove top and panini sandwich grill; we've got a grand dining room, a HUGE sitting room with couches and the aforementioned TV, two full bathrooms, 2 walk-in pantries (not full, but we did find 3 cans of tuna, some cereal, 3 packs of ramen noodles as well as about 100kgs of rice-- incredible), a washing and drying machine, a veranda (I'm sitting on it right now as I write this), and fresh milk. And pet dogs. Like I said, I feel guilty.

Things here are.... sad. Really, really, incredibly sad. There is this feeling of shock, defeat and injustice in the air... along with the tension that often chaperones those sentiments. It is eerie. Because it's been pretty quiet the past couple days (at least in Kericho), we've been able to walk around (not in to town, but down the road a little). There are abandoned kiosks and overturned bus stops; road blocks made by lining rocks and boulders accross the street. A few days ago I saw people dragging all their possessions (beds, mattresses, couches--evertying) out to the road, hoping to catch a ride anywhere. Yesterday, I saw several young men wheeling the same things back in towards town on huge carts. I'm not sure if they had looted other people's things or if they were bringing there own thigs back.

I've talked to my family in Umer a lot. When I called to wish them a Happy New Year, all they said was, "...this new year is not happy...". They are safe, they said, just.... upset. "We need our President [ODM's Raila Odinga]," my friend William said. "They are giving us false results," my 19-year old brother, Joseph told me. I asked him if people are fighting and he said "not yet. We are waiting for Raila to speak to us." That is, of course, in my village. People in Kisumu (and all over Kenya, for that matter, have not waited for anything. People are dying. People are displaced. Supplies are limited and dwindling. And as much as I hate to be so negative, I can't see it getting better before it gets worse.

Even police officers we have talked to have not been shy about sharing their feelings that "justice is necessary. If people think there is injustice, they must fight for what they believe is right."

We had the chance a few days ago to watch the news at a nearby hotel. In all honesty, things look MUCH worse on TV than they feel here. I mean, I'm not in Kisumu or Nairobi, but.... a lot of violence has gone down in Kericho, too.... and at least from where we sat, I NEVER would have described "how things are" as the scene that I saw on the news. It makes me sick to see it. I really am heartbroken. Perhaps the saddest thing for me is how ominous the future looks; I can't see how it will be resolved (if it can be resolved) and I certainly don't see it getting better before it gets worse. I don't think that one police officer is the only person who feels that way about justice. And it's becoming more and more apparent that there was (and remains) a lack of it.

It's really hard, on a more personal note, having no idea what is going on (really) nor what will happen. We've spent HOURS speculating. That's really all we can do. Will they evacuate us? Will we ever get to go back to our sites? If they evacuate us, where to? When? How? And what about all our crap at our sites (when I packed for this trip, I thought I'd be back in a week, it's now been over two...and if we do leave the country, I won't get back to site before that)? And what about all the PEOPLE at our sites? The thought of leaving Kenya without at least saying goodbye to the people who have been my life here is... awful. It's bad enough knowing that, at any point, we can up and leave; knowing that we have people whose entire JOB it is to figure out how to get me out of here safely, should things get worse. But the thought of leaving people I love who don't have anything near that option, right when things get worse... it's hard to deal with.

Anyway. There is so much more to say... I'll save it for another installment. Tomorrow there is a huge ODM (that's the opposition) rally planned in Nairobi. It will really be a pivotal day. If that rally goes through... things could get much worse. But if that rally is prevented from happening... things could get much worse. So... look for an update tomorrow. I'll let you know, if at all possible, where I'm going (if anywhere) and what's going on (if anything). If I'm unable to post for whatever reason (power, as we know, is... unreliable), I've been talking to my parents every day... so bug them for info (hope that's OK, Mom and Dad).

Please know, above all, that I am OK. We are all OK. I just, really REALLY hope Kenya is, too.

Love,
Hannah

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