A Glimpse at Corruption

The root of Kenya is corruption. I wish I could say it isn’t so, but its all around, in the government, law enforcement, religion down to the community development NGO we were working for. My guess is that there is so much fear of living that horrific impoverished lifestyle, that corruption has become secretly acceptable.

It is said that the very best job in Kenya is to be a Pastor. The only hope some people have to hang on to is God. They believe with all their heart that He will come through for them. With that they are willing to give everything they can spare to the local church. That comes in very handy for the Pastor. I have yet to see one that isn’t looking spiffy in a nice suit, clean and well groomed. Other volunteers were placed living with the Pastors and their families and their accommodations were just short of living in the U.S. There may not have been running water in a 6 to 10 room house but there was always a house-hand to flood flush the toilet for them. 

As a realist, I wonder how or why these people keep giving when they don’t see the money coming back down to repay their children, provide food when they’re hungry, build shelter and keep them safe, when that small bit extra could make a difference in their today. Then I see... when you have nowhere to go and don’t know where to turn, you have to have something to hang onto. Faith. 

Where has the blog gone...

Where has the blog gone....

I do apologize to those of you who keep track of my where abouts, health, safety and most importantly, adventures; through my blog. This piece of my blog could not be updated until I successfully joined paths with my parents. Knowing how on edge my Mom was while I was gone, all the while putting on her brave face reminding herself that she raised a strong, capable daughter; I knew it would make her shudder to hear the highs and lows of each of my days. 

Protecting the mindset of my friends and family was a large part of my lack of communication, but not completely. Modern luxuries like internet and electricity was a battle that I wasn’t willing to fight for when settling in and living a Kenyan lifestyle.  I captured many of my thoughts and experiences in a handwritten journal during my stay. Hopefully I can paint an objective picture of life in Kenya for others to understand, but from my very few conversations I’ve had with the outside world, its not really a place that anyone can comprehend. And, to be honest, I have sat down to write this blog many of times but could never come up with the words to describe my experience and fully portray the horrific life so many of them lead and how they touched my heart. 

Being a white person in Kenya isn’t exactly the easiest trait to deal with. Even the Kenyans will say, “you don’t look white, you look as green as money”. No matter who you get to know and how much you like them there is always the line of trust that you never really can be sure of. As much as it may disgust you at times, the underling reason is desperation. There has been so much desperation in the eyes of the common Kenyan for so long that all morals have been discarded and survival is the number one priority. For mothers that could be prostitution for as little as 25cents U.S., but for a Kenyan that is food on the table for the family. Pit pocketing, robbing, rape and murder are not uncommon stories to be heard as they have very little regard for human life. Yes, I heard many of those stories from locals and also from volunteers, and I thanked my lucky stars everyday that I had not encountered such situations, then hoped for the best for the next day.