Kenyans in the diaspora will NOT get to vote in 2012

It seems we have all been having false expectations. See, at the beginning of December I read in the Sunday Nation that the Independent Elections  and Boundaries Commission (IEBC) was developing guidelines that would enable Kenyans in the Diaspora to participate in the 2012 general election.

By the end of the same month, Kenyans residing in the US were no longer feeling confident about IEBC facilitating their participation in the elections. Among their concerns was the slow pace and the need for poll stations to be established in easily accessible distances within the US. Even more interesting were the reader comments that came thereafter.

Some antagonism could be felt from commentors who thought those living in the US should stop acting spoilted and sacrifice money and time to go as far as it takes them to access a polling station, even if it means going back to Kenya. They said they should remember the realities back home and not expect impossibilities.

Then there was the more positive bunch that acknowledged the right of every citizen to vote, suggested solutions such as online voting and appointment of voting officers from among the Kenyans in the US. They also  suggested that people meet the government halfway by going to the various representative offices of Kenya. Some said that remittances to the Kenyan economy from the diaspora was proof enough that Kenyans are willing to participate in the affairs of the country regardless of their location. As for those who believe Kenyans in the diaspora are nolonger Kenyans and have no right to speak.. well, no comment!

Anyway, seems the Kenyans in the US have more time to make their demands. The High Court has  ruled today to push Kenya’s first General Election under the new Constitution to March 2013. Will this extension be enough for the IEBC to organize a scandal-free, theft-proof, technology-compliant, all-inclusive, border-transcending and peaceful election?

Happy 2012 to all Kenyans

After engorged stomachs regain their normal shape and the cobwebs that gathered in the heads over the holiday period clear, I hope that Kenyans all around the world will still rejoice that they made it into the New Year, and look to 2012 with hope in their eyes and determination in their hearts. Here are 5 things I would like to see in 2012:

Health and safety: We reduce the number of people who don’t make it to see the next year, especially by reducing deaths through road accidents and preventable diseases; seriously, how great would it be to read the paper one week long without any headline that goes like ‘X people die in road accident’?

Fair and peaceful elections: We see through any politician who is shallow, feckless and without substance, trust in the Constitution and the law and help to change Kenya by going through peaceful elections.  Of course, I’m crossing my fingers that Kenyans living abroad also get to vote.

The Somalia issue: The war against Al-Shabaab militants, which has already claimed so many innocent lives, comes to an end, and our economy and national security improves as a result. That the refugees currently crowded in the camps also start to return home to rebuild their lives.

Education: That the government realizes that children are not to blame for their parents’ wealth status and ensures that public school pupils get as good a chance for the future as those in private schools. We really are not proud to see headlines that scream ‘private schools trounce public schools in KCPE.’ We want to be proud of performance in an environment of equal opportunity.

Economy: Reduced fuel prices, reduced commodity prices, increased job opportunities, reduced inflation, etc. In a nutshell, this rollercoaster that we experienced in 2011 was not good for our static pocket change, and we want to be able to plan and anticipate what is coming at us.

The year is going to be short, the drama is going to be great, I can’t wait to get to the other side to see what we achieved!

In Bruges

The most beautiful city I visited this year is Bruges. I wanted to go to Italy, but running low on my student’s allowance, it seemed I would have to postpone that plan. Then one of my classmates suggested, “Why don’t you go to Bruges? It is regarded as the Venice of the North”. My mind went back to the movie In Bruges with Colin Farrell, and I thought it would be a good enough compromise. So off I went, on a four hour train ride with four friends.

As soon as you arrive, the saying that old is gold comes to mind. You get off the train, cross the highway, walk a few metres and it already feels as if you just stepped into a past era: You walk on cobbled streets, the echo of your footsteps and those of other tourists reverberating through the narrow streets. You cross water canals that meander through picturesque buildings, and on the horizon, your eyes follow the spire of a church. And as if this is not enough, horse-drawn carriages pass you by on the streets, side by side with bicycles and cars.

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Bruges is located in the northwest, Flemish region of Belgium. The historic city centre is a UNESCO World Heritage site.  Its medieval architecture has been lovingly maintained: Old brick buildings, narrow cobbled streets, monuments and numerous museums are a testament to the city’s rich history. Judging from the crowds of tourists streaming in everyday, it’s obvious what the main livelihood of the city residents is.

We stayed at a small family run hotel (breakfast included), and I swear there was so much delicious bread and coffee every morning, that I couldn’t believe that I still had space for hot chocolate and waffles… but I did. We squeezed in a day trip to nearby Gent as well. I know I will go back. You see, I did not take a boat ride, and I imagine how heavenly that would feel like on a nice summer day. Furthermore, if the city centre is that beautiful, I imagine a tour of the countryside will be as well, and I just have to find out.

Am I finally growing up?

The years are advancing, the time when one is not supposed to say their age out loud is fast approaching, or so I’m told. Oh, I don’t know much about that, but I like the comfort that comes with knowing me a bit longer (sort of like an old friend to myself). In summary, the surface looks like this:

Health: I don’t have a health problem (yet), I love my habits and yes, I know some of them could have lasting consequences. I love them anyway. Sports should balance everything out, and an apple a day. No, I don’t need two litres of water per day. Neither do the people who live in the desert.

Love: Margaret Mitchell said, “I was never one to patiently pick up broken fragments and glue them together again and tell myself that the mended whole was as good as new. What is broken is broken — and I’d rather remember it as it was at its best than mend it and see the broken places as long as I lived.” I seem to be following this trend.

Looks: My more stylish friends are always pointing out what I need to change. It’s dawning on me that some things will remain the same. No, I won’t grow my hair until I really feel like it, I don’t wear little, girly dresses because I don’t know how, and I don’t like heels because I’m already as tall as I’d like to be.  All the same, I am glad to have friends who care.

Profession: I finally figured out what I want to do, digging my heels in and hanging in there. To be honest, I don’t think I will ever grow rich doing what I do. But those are thoughts for my next birthday.

Social life: Not a party animal. Not a social butterfly. Not a super star. Yet solitary trees, if they grow at all, grow strong.

Every year on my birthday, I make grand pronouncements about the future (illusions induced by something other than natural high spirits and augmented by other people’s expectations of me). This year, I think I will break this habit. No resolutions, no grandiose schemes, just a few personal plans to take the future in manageable bits. Mark you, it does not mean that I will stop dreaming.

Culture shock: A German and his money

One month after I came to Germany, someone I had met in Kenya, and who had expressed his interest in getting to know me better, invited me to go out and spend the afternoon in the park. He suggested that we stop at the supermarket to buy some snacks. We both picked what we wanted to eat and when we got to the till, he separated his goods from mine and paid for himself. I quickly pulled out my wallet, thanking God that I had enough scholarship Euros to pay the 3 Euros for my things (True story, and I was there).

I have to admit that I felt quite embarrassed, and this embarrassment grew in dimension when I thought that everyone else was observing us. During my intercultural communication class, in which we are taught how to get along in different cultural settings, I tried to analyze this incident.

• Germany is generally a low-context culture (i.e., where everything has to be spelled out orally), so if you’re invited out, do not expect anyone to pick up your tab if they didn’t expressly tell you that they were “inviting” you.
• People here are more individualistic, that is, they do not have the spontaneous communal “let me buy you a drink” mentality that we have.
• Long-term planning of the way time and money are spent is the rule, and not the exception. Even simple things like going out for a coffee or visiting someone should be discussed in advance. Spontaneous, unplanned expenditure and sharing that could make people veer off their plans, and considering the fear of uncertain financial future, it is almost inconceivable to just “get up and do something”.
• But then again, this man’s behavior could have been informed by his own time in Kenya. Let’s face it, there are many women who get into relationships with Mzungus with the sole purpose of getting money from them. Maybe he thought that I was also after his money.

Okay, now I understand it. It doesn’t change the way I felt. I was kind of uncomfortable for the rest of the afternoon because I had no idea what to make of this odd behavior. On one hand, I felt that he was either mean or he had a wrong opinion of me, and that he thought I was after his money. On the other hand, maybe I was being too quick to judge him.

This incident got me thinking about the many Kenyan girls whose goal is to hook a Mzungu, move to Europe or America and live easy on his cash. If these cultural dimensions I’m learning about are anything to go by, some of them may be very disappointed when they realize just how much they have to pay their own way.

 As for me, I’m moving on swiftly, paying my own way and trying to understand the often strange cultural norms that I’m confronted with daily.