Thursday, 30 August 2007

Crossing the Threshold

I am three weeks back In Ireland. I actually wanted to write this story when I was in Kenya but have only found the time and clarity to do it today...

I met Jane in 2003. She took part in the computer training program that we ran there as a first step to working out how best to deliver computer technology to the developing world. I have written and spoken about Jane on many other occasions – she has been an inspiration for so much that has happened since then – and she once again forms the basis of this story.

Jane’s husband died of AIDS in 2003. She is HIV positive and her eldest child is also HIV positive. Both herself and her son are receiving ARV treatment and even though the side effects of the treatment are challenging, they are both alive and getting on with life. Jane remains in monthly contact with my family and I through email and I do not exaggerate when I say that without the email contact things could be a whole lot worse for both Jane and her family. It’s a wonderful example of how technology can connect people physically and culturally separated, together in a positive way.

Jane now runs a small co-operative business venture bringing water into the slum area where she lives and which she sells onto the residents there. This business brings in about 2 euros a day which effectively doubles her income. The business employs another woman who is also HIV positive.

The money she has saved from this business has allowed her build a better toilet for her home and to buy things like mosquito nets for her family. It has also helped partly pay for her eldest son to attend secondary school. It never ceases to amaze me how efficient and effective Jane can be with the smallest amount of money.

We have become good friends so when I visit Kenya I make a point of visiting her to show moral support for all that she is doing. We normally meet in Nairobi on my way back home as I fly back to Ireland from there. This year I got ill in Mombasa which delayed my return journey to Nairobi and so I only had a day there before I left. I was still quite ill and a bit weak so I booked myself into a 3 star hotel called the Meridian Court in the centre of Nairobi which meant easy access to the airport and a good nights sleep!

Jane has a mobile phone which despite the enormous relative costs is now an essential item for anybody in the developing world. Through a couple of texts Jane and I arranged to meet at the hotel before I headed off the following day.

It was early evening time. I stood outside the hotel at the time we had arranged but there was no sign of Jane so I decided to ring her. I got through to her phone and asked where she was.

Gary, I can see you but I am nervous’ she said.

‘Come and meet me at the hotel entrance’ I returned.

There was a pause.

‘Ok’ she said.

A few minutes late Jane appeared out of the crowd and started up the steps at the front of the hotel towards me. She had been watching the front of the hotel from across the road. She was dressed impeccably but was extremely nervous and shy.

‘Let’s grab a coffee from the café in the Hotel?’ I suggested.

She looked at me aghast.

‘I cannot go in there’ she said her eyes indicating the hotel entrance.

‘Why not?’ I asked perplexed.

‘I have never been in a hotel in my life. They are not places for people like me…’

Coffee cost about a euro per cup in this hotel. I suddenly realised what I had done by asking her into the Café.

Perhaps I should have asked her to suggest somewhere else to meet but I did not. On this occasion I made the decision to insist she come inside with me, that it was my treat and so on. Its hard to know was it the right thing to do. Was this exposing her to a lifestyle she would never actually have? Or was it a simple treat that she would enjoy and remember for a few days – a momentary calm and respite in the storm.

She took my hand and we walked across the threshold of the hotel entrance together.

The Meridian Court Hotel is not exactly plush as Hotels go but it has an attractive lobby, the floor is marble and there is the usual leather furniture speckled about the reception area. Jane gazed about her in awe and wonder and I saw her smiling.

We went into the Café and I asked her what she would like to eat and drink. To help her I suggested various combinations of coffee, biscuits, pies, sandwiches etc.

She thought for a second.

‘Could I get a glass of fresh milk?’ she asked.

‘Why milk?’ I asked.

‘I have just come from the hospital from a check up. My doctor says I am run down and that it’s not good to be this way when taking the ARV’s. He recommended drinking milk’ she answered.

I was amazed that she would be this disciplined. Were the positions reversed with me standing in Browns restaurant on Stephens Green with the offer of whatever I wanted available to me, would I be able to stick to a green salad?

‘You can have whatever you want.’ I replied.

She looked at the food on display and picked out a pie. When she was asked by the attendant did she want it heated she looked at me for help. I nodded and she did the same. I told the attendant to make that two warm pies.

‘Can I get some food for my children?’ she asked.

I looked at her amazed. Here was an extraordinary woman, a saint in my eyes, who struggled every day to survive and yet when a moment came where she could treat herself she was still thinking of helping her children. She humbled me. That this amazing woman felt unable to cross the threshold of the hotel, metaphorical barriers that wealth has put up to protect itself, was appalling.

And so it was that we sat together eating warm pies, Jane drinking milk, me drinking tea, with a round of sandwiches for her children in a white plastic bag on the table. We sat there for about an hour chatting about life. She told me the extent of her life’s ambition given her circumstances.

‘I am unable to have any more children’ she said.

‘If I can manage to get all my children through secondary school I will be happy with life’

I was stuck for words. What do you say in a moment like this? I could utter the usual platitudes that life was worth living, that there was more to life than raising children, that life was there to be enjoyed etc but it felt utterly empty and meaningless here. Here was a woman who was HIV positive because her husband had slept around, who was stigmatised accordingly because of the disease, who was living in abject poverty with three children one also HIV positive but who had found the will, the strength and the courage to battle on and support her family. There was nothing more to say. I just bowed my head.

When Jane left I went up to my room to think. Something important had just happened and it has taken me till now to identify what that was.

Jane had crossed the threshold of the hotel only when I had encouraged her. She would not have done that without my encouragement. However, once she had crossed over, a wonderful rich human exchange had happened between us. Most importantly she had, without knowing it, made me feel truly human. That’s the best way I can describe how it felt.

This kind of connection does not happen very often in life. It is very rare for people from the opposite sides of the opportunity divide to meet face to face. And yet something wonderful inevitably seems to happen when those connections are made.

It would seem though that those of us on the opportunity side need to proactively nurture those connections. They will not happen easily without our active conscious involvement. In fact they may not happen at all and the divides can also grow…

In the western society of abundance, human connections between those that have and those that have do not happen. In fact these connections are discouraged as a focus on individual gain becomes the most important goal. Without the perspective these connections bring, those that have can become more selfish and insular whilst those that have not can feel despair and alienation.

It has always struck me that the wealthier we become the higher we build the walls around our houses.

In developing world societies where resources are scarce the human connections are nurtured out of necessity but in doing so powerful positive human qualities are nurtured and prevail. Social fabric in these societies is amazingly strong. People really do look after one another and it seems completely wrong that a society lose this dimension in the pursuit of wealth.

It starts though with every individual. How often do we actually cross these kinds of thresholds in our lives? How often do we actually pro-actively go out and meet somebody less fortunate than ourselves?

It seems really important that these kinds of connections across opportunity are made and even encouraged. In particular it would seem to be really important to create links between the most and least advantaged. Volunteering suddenly seems like something everyone should do no matter what their position in life might be?

We will always have excuses not to engage though….

These kinds of connections, these meeting of the waters can be extremely troublesome and even upsetting at times. They can appear risky, challenging and possibly even uncomfortable.

Human beings though are not designed to be safe and secure and insular.

Ships are safe in a harbour but that’s not what ships were built for…

Thursday, 9 August 2007

Back in Dublin


I arrived back in Dublin last night. I left the Meridian Court hotel at 5.15am in the morning and arrived in Dublin at 8.00pm (10.00pm Kenya time). It was a long day!

This morning I opened up the mail I had received over the last month and discovered that I have unpaid bills of about 2000 euros to pay! Everything from my mobile phone (which I did not use), broadband (which I did not use), electricity, TV licence, house insurance, tax on the car, property management fees, a speeding ticket etc etc...

2000 euros is the average salary of two people in Kenya.

Its does make you think!

Anyway, back to the hamster wheel, running to stand still etc...

It is good to be back though despite!

Gary

Friday, 3 August 2007

A day in the life of..

I did not plan to spend a day with a family here. I struggle with that concept to be honest. I struggle with the idea that we can 'plan' a program around exposure to poverty as a personal growth experience unless its very clear what the outcomes are. However, the following story just happened quite by accident.

Last Wednesday, whilst recovering from the respitory tract infection, I found myself in a two roomed house - one of a number of units in a block of 20 - with a small family consisting of a young single mum, her two children, her two sisters and her house help. This small family is by no means representative of abject poverty. The mum has a good job and earns about 200 euros a month.

The only way single mums can survive out here is through the use of what is known as house help. These 'helpers' are women with no children of their own, who live 24 hrs a day 7 days a week in the house looking after the children, cleaning and cooking for them. They get about 15 euros a month but are fed and have a roof over their heads.

The day began with breakfast - some chapati bread and spiced Chi (tea cooked in milk, sugar and spices). The children were then brought to school by the house help. On this occasion the childrens Mum and I went with them as the previous day the children had been sent home because there was a balance of 800 schillings (about 8 euros) outstanding on the school fees. The mum was really upset because her 7 year old had missed a day of exams accordingly. I had encouraged her to complain to the headmistress and she asked me to come along for moral support - hence my presence!

The road to the school led through a dump. All along the way I could see slum like dwellings with no sanitation or power. The underbelly of society here is really not far from the road....

We got to the school, we got to meet the head mistress and then I stood back and let the mum have her say. I found myself just outside the door looking into an open countyard in the middle of the school. Suddenly a heavily built man dragging a young girl of about 8 burst into the middle of the yard. The girl was made hold out her hand and then he hit her repeatedly with a willow like cane till she burst out crying. Then she was literally thrown into the corner and another girl was dragged out for the same. About 8 young girls were punished this way. Then a boy about 10 years old was dragged out. He was made lie on the ground and the man repeatedly hit him across his backside - again till he cried. He was then thrown into the group of crying girls in the corner. More boys were beaten. One child, clearly younger than the others refused to lie down so the man beat him with the cane around the thighes till he complied...

I looked on utterly aghast....then he noticed me watching. He came over panting heavily from his exertions, and introduced himself.

'What did the children do to deserve such punishment?' I asked.
'These are bad children - they need to be whipped' he answered.
'But what did they do?' I asked again.
'They were talking in class - they were disturbing others - so they were whipped' he replied.

Children being whipped for just exercising their natural curiosity and desire to communicate. The legacy of an educational system really about control rather than empowerment.

The most distrubing part of this story is that the man left me and went back to the group of huddled crying children. He then circled them brandishing his cane menaciingly whilst giving them a lecture. The man clearly enjoyed the power he held over the children who were all fearfully staring at the ground now.

My biggest regret is that I did not take a photograph of what happened. I only found out a few days later that corporal punishment has been banned in Kenya since 2005 and this very school was taken to court a few months ago for breaking those rules by a mother of one of the children here.

We left the school to do some shopping for the house. The mum had recently acquired her first ever fridge and wanted some help getting food for it. We used local transport to get to the supermarket (Matatus - converted hi ace vans that hold about 12 people at a time and move between fixed places in the city). It cost about 15 schillings (15 cent).

We got basic things like eggs, sausages, bread, milk, yogurts, drinks, snacks etc in bulk. To see the look on the mums face as she instantly relaised how much easier it would be now to feed her family was lovely to watch.

I bought some small modelling clay sets for the children as a treat.

By the time we had got back to her house the children were back for lunch. They looked so cute in their uniforms which were patched and repaired but ironed as well as one could. When their mum arrived their faces lit up and they ran out to get a big hug and kiss.

We had lunch together which was a bowl of rice some chapati and sauce. The children were given some fruit and some juice and then the house help walked them back to the school. It was about to rain so she brought with her two baby umbrellas - the kind you might see in a pound shop back in Ireland. I watched them walk away and was really struck by the image of three women in prison. The house help was effectivly a slave and the two children were in a school where their natural exuberence would be beaten out of them in time.

The young mother had to do a report on an incident in work for her boss. It was patently clear that the company was looking for a scapegoat given what had happened so I helped her write the report (in her own language) that absolutely exonerated her of any wrong doing. We did everything in the nearby cyber cafe. I showed her the wonderful google docs concept and said if she needed advice on documents that we could use this tool when I was back in Ireland - its a fantastic innovation from the google team!

Back to the house and it was close to dinner time. The house help had prepared dinner - spaghetti and potatoes in a gravy sauce. It was actually very tasty. The family eats meat about twice a week.

Then we revealed the modelling clay sets to the two children. Two sets that had cost less than a euro each. In the future if I ever need to remind myself of gratitude I will think back to the looks on the faces of these two children as they stared in awe at the two sets that I handed them. Two children whose most expensive toys in their short lives were a teddy bear each.

We sat and played with the clay. The mum made the alphabet using different colours. Then she showed them how to make cups and saucers and plates, then we made jewellery and then we made animals and birds. The egg boxes we had bought earlier became the store for the different clay colours. The plastic bags for the shopping the play area, empty bottles rolling pins and so on. For three hours I just watched amazed as this young mum and her two little angels laughed and played and learned.

Despites the confines of the space and the number of people present it never felt confined. Nobody has personal space in houses like this but people just get on with it. How much we take for granted....

Bedtime came and the children got into their pjamas - too big for them but thats the way with clothes here when children are growing.

The youngest child was scared to go to sleep because she had a broken nail that was hanging off and it hurt her at night when it snagged against the sheets. There was not a scissors in the house sharp enough to clip the nail so the mum was hoping it would just fall off in time.

I happened to have my swiss army knife with me and offered to try and clip the nail. I made the mistake of showing the poor little girl the knife and terrified her. She kept insisting she did not have Malaria for some reason and then her mum explained that she had been taken to hospital recently with Malaria and the staff had her hurt her with an injection. Anytime somebody tries to help her medically now she just cries that she does not have Malaria...poor little thing.

Anyway, I let her cut my nails with the scissors and that helped her relax. Finally but very fearfully, she offered me her sore finger and then hid her eyes behind her other hand. I felt as much pressure in this operation as I am sure a brain surgeon does when removing a tumour!

Thank God for the wonderful sharp steel in the swiss army penknife! In one quick painless snip the nail was removed much to the delight of the baby girl. She looked at her finger and then back at me and beamed a golden smile that would melt an ice berg. We put a plaster around the finger, she hugged her mum then quite unexectedly she hugged me and then she bounced off to bed.

I left the house about 11.00pm and made my way back to the hotel. What a day and it was only one day. Maybe we have just made life too complicated? So much so that we have lost that sense of beauty in simplicity? Of course resources can make life easier but they can also sanitise our lives too. It never ceases to amaze me how the human spirit rises when faced with scarcity and how it diminshes when immersed in abundance.

Suddenly I thought again of my great friend John Moriarty. How he would have enjoyed a day like this.