Arjen Westra’s African Weblog

On my trip through Namibia’s Caprivi Strip, I stopped at a small coffee joint to satisfy my caffeine-needs. In the end, I am still a Dutch. It was not my first time that I visited this small place in one of the poorest areas of beautiful Namibia. The type of area where people die of malaria because they can’t find transport to the nearest hospital or can’t spend two dollar to safe their own baby’s life. On the outside, nothing had changed. Still the dark orange/brown red-earthy color. Inside still the slow service and the super friendly girl who looks like she doesn’t need anybody as a customer today. Yes: everything looked as usual: I was even happy with the absence of Take Away Coffees. The mugs are on the way, like two years ago, I was told. But I observed something new there in the far dark corner and it made me angry, actually: it made me mad. I saw two gambling machines. I asked who had put these things there, at first nobody could tell me. I noticed the Russian signs and buttons on these what must once have been flashy and bling-blinging Mokba-one-armed-bandits. I could almost smell the wodka. After asking around a bit, some guys told me that a white guy had put them there and someone from the Ministry of Finance was the owner. Now that is what I call development! I took my instant coffee. Outside I found these young guys begging, hiding their small glue bottles in their hands when you approached them and I imagined how the future for these guys would look like if the gambling machines would be connected soon. The locals seemed not very interested in the machines. Some of them told me that all in a lot of shebeens (local ‘drinking places’ ) these machines had been placed recently. I want to stop here and leave the cynical thinking up to the cynics. Hope to meet you on the road! Have a nice day! And keep exploring!

The morning was quiet in Nairobi. This afternoon i visited the informal settlements Mathare and Kibera. Police was around and Mathare seemed realtively quiet. Downtown Nairobi though there were pockets of rioting youth. They were dispersed by special police forces that used teargas. Less than an hour later, I witnessed singing youth who were challenging the police in the informal settlement Kibera. Police went in (that is the moment you hear on the audiofile). Minutes later, it seemed back to ‘normal’, as far as i can use that word in this extraordinary days for Kenya. Observation: more journalists around than common people. The riots will be in the media much bigger than they were.

Just outside Kenyan Parlement now. It’s still quiet, riot police are around and an old lady is removing dust from the streets in front of the Parliament buildings, thus giving them a final touch. She laughs at me, I greet her and I wonder what she thinks…

That is the name I gave to this small community of Himba people in Namibia’s Northwest where is just passed some days ago. Probabely the only Himba-community with a white female Minister of Finance. Himba’s are to Namibia what the Maasai are to Kenya and Tanzania and Bushmen to Southern Africa. The difference in Namibia is that white ‘native’ people talk about their fellow nationals the San and the Himba in a very strange way: just as if the white nationals are superior to the natives. AIt seems to be a trend among whites in Southern Africa to do something good. And that is also how a lot of these white well-do’ers behave: We are doing something GOOD. Look how GOOD I am. And i have to believe how GOOD they are of course. I ran into a white lady who ‘adopted’ this small community of Himba people, when according to the lady they came to her with the question if they could stay on her land. The lady said yes, you are welcome. Her motive, how could i even think it would not be, was very noble: helping these poor Himba-people who are, in fact and according to the lady ‘very normal people’. It took the lady a lot of effort to ‘help this Himba’s stop drinking’ and she almost cried, I had the impression. I almost felt like offering a tissue, when she was talking about HER Himba’s and the pain SHE had gone through to make them adjust their behaviour (to what?). Now every day in the tourist high season, the small community gets ‘more than five trucks with guests a day’. Every tourist pays 100 Rand to visit (approximately 10 euro’s). That is an average turnover of 750 euro a day, or more than 5000 euro a week. When I asked the lady what’s in it for the Himba’s, she told me: ‘…everything is for them and I am the one buying food for them, I know exactly what they need, and exactly how much they need of it. The rest of the money goes in an account. I am their Minister of Finance and decide what happens with the money.’ I fully understood, of course. Who wouldn’t? On a yearly basis, that is more than 240.000 euro, for this 20 head community of mais-eating Himba’s. Interesting he? This has been going on for years, that’s why I would call these people The Himba Millionaires. I did not find a nick name for the lady, who truly is a VERY NORMAL lady of the white tribe of WEDO’s (Well do’ers). Any suggestions are welcome! Pictures are clickable! Much better!

Yes. A lot of people would be surprised to hear that nowadays in a lot of African countries we have mobile internet. I posted this text live from the streets of Dar es Salaam. Mobile internet brings Africa to the world! At the same moment it seems that I am walking through a world that has two speeds. On my left hand side, here and now, there is a hospital where tonight a lot of people will have died of diseases, like malaria, that could have been treated cheaply. But because of the fact that they could not afford the medicine or say health insurance, they will die. Others cant make a choice because they cant afford to use a condom. Death is always around the corner on this continent. And still: i see people surviving, the streets in Dar are busy from early morning until late. Why? There is no choice. Lets not talk about some airtime to go on the internet.

Finally some pictures from Lamu.

Have a nice day!

Just arrived back from Meru area for stories. Before that I visited Lamu to attend the festivities around the celebration of the birthday of Mohammed. Every year more than 8.000 Muslims come to Lamu and are taking over the streets. Pictures on both stories will be available soon. Have a nice day!

‘Drivers license!’ My taxidriver Isaac just opened his window and puts on his most innocent face. Alcoholdamp enters the car. ‘What do you think? I am just coming from Thika to bring my friend here to the airport. I just forgot it.’ The car is closed in by three police officers. I notice. One of them , an old guy, is trying to intimidate Isaac. None of the agents have badges with their employee numbers. ‘When you see them like that, you know it’s wrong’ says Isaac. I know he’s right. Police in Kenya has a bad reputation. I recently travelled to Netherlands. It was in the weekend before the World Social Forum: tens of thousands of people were expected and… they had to be transported from Jomo Kenyatta International Airport to their hotels and… they are paying the taxi drivers cash, and… this means that taxi drivers carry a lot of cash… and this means that when they are stopped by police these guys could easily remove some money from the taxi drivers’ pockets… ‘Which means, that a lot of taxi drivers, normally to be recognised by the yellow ribbon on the car, nowadays don’t want to be recognised as a taxi’, Isaac says. The World Social Forum means that it’s party time at the roadblock. And I think he’s right. Isaac refuses, the police man steps aside. Behind me I see another driver handing over his drivers license…

Added a posting on Zimbabwe. Just back from a trip through that beautifull country. Please visit my Blog In Dutch . Have  a wonderful day!

Comin’ up: more (audio-)postings. Among them: The meeting with one of the last relatives of Idi Ami, How the Kenyan Government is trying to give their people history and: Party time at the Roadblock. Thanks for coming (back) and for your warming emails. Meanwhile, please enjoy some of the pictures I took in Arua/Koboko/Entebbe/Nairobi.