It’s raining in Kenya
It has been raining in Kenya, but it’s not enough in both directions.
Yesterday evening, on our bank holidays in Germany, the Day of German Unity, I was sitting in a small café in Nairobi waiting for a Kenyan friend. She had postponed the date a few times – that wasn’t a big deal. I like to sit around in cafés and watch people. I had also taken the daily newspapers „Sunday Nation“ and the „Standard“ with me, so there was no risk of boredom. The clouds over the capital had already closed in to some extent and had also become darker.
In these days and weeks, for many in East Africa, not only in Kenya, this is a sign of great hope. My neighbour at the next table and his wife kept looking up and discussing. „Yes, I think today is finally the day,“ I said to them. They looked at me, laughed and replied: „May God shake the rain out of those clouds. It is high time!“ (May God please shake the rain out of those clouds. It is high time.)
Thinking of Lesotho in Kenya
And indeed: perhaps a quarter of an hour later, the sound of rain pattering on large umbrellas began. And after another five minutes, it was pouring down like buckets. „That might be El Nino – but maybe it’s not enough for that,“ the woman said to me. I didn’t know. After the rain had started, there was no immediate rejoicing in the café or in front of it, but there was great cheer and relief. I was reminded of a visit to Lesotho in southern Africa. One day, children were running from village to village because it had rained heavily for two hours after months of dryness and drought.
They laughed, sang and danced in the middle of the main road that helped the rain down into the valley. At the time, the children and young people had explained that they were organising a kind of „gratitude jog“ because it was finally getting wet. They went from house to house, taking more and more friends and neighbours with them to celebrate.
Children thirsty and animals emaciated
However, there is still no sign of any nationwide relief in Kenya. On my return journey from Dadaab – which I will report on in my blog tomorrow – to Nairobi, I saw people and animals queuing for water for up to seven hours – every day, Monday to Sunday. „Yes, we have water here,“ one woman told me. „And it only costs ten cents per 20-litre canister at the moment“. But the waiting is exhausting. „Queuing for hours, with the animals. And not least with the children. It’s exhausting.“
Some of them come several kilometres in the morning to this place with the „public tap“. At home, there are no taps like the ones you can turn on and off when you need water. The Kenyan government is currently subsidising the diesel for the generators, so at least the water is not as expensive for the people as usual. The generators are used to pump water up from the wells. The government is also currently buying cows from the Maasai, the farmers in the north-east of the country: This gives the families money with which they can at least buy food – and water.
The vital liquid
Just because it is raining in Nairobi does not mean that it is also raining in Kisumu in the west. Nor does it mean that the essential water will finally fall from the sky in the north-east – where the large refugee camp is located. What we can see here: That the Kenyan government is helping in this situation.
What we don’t see: That there is better water management or that there is too little provision for such times. And what everyone knows, not just the Kenyans, by the way: that we around the world have a responsibility for these climate changes that can cost people and animals their lives.
This text was written on 4 October 2009, during one of my many visits to Kenya. All rights reserved, of course.
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