Buffet for the Blind

Posted by: Helen

I feel like the glaring omission in this blog is my work.  It's tricky to write about something that has been such a puzzle, such a challenge and a source of frustration; especially when you're writing for an open, online audience.  Plus because I've been so office-bound, I didn't yet have stories of interest to share with our loyal readership (hello Mum and Dad!), beyond the tales from my colleagues' lives, which I've written about several times.  But recent events have got me out of the office, and opened my eyes, so here we go, a blog about my work....



Stuck in the office

My VSO volunteer placement is at the head office of Kenya Union of the Blind (KUB).  Five days a week I work alongside the people who are employed to run the CEO's office, and all the donor-funded programmes that KUB calls it's 'outreach' work (empowering women, or training peer educators on HIV/AIDS). My role is to advise on how best to attract more resources to the organisaton, for the benefit of the Union's members. That's not always practical, so in reality, I help out where I can, and to date I'm most proud of the work I've done to build up the IT and other professional skills of my lovely colleagues (many of whom are blind and partially sighted themselves), encourage more forward planning at the secretariat level, and to coach my boss Jackson as he learns his new role as CEO of KUB.


This 'secretariat' where I work operates very separately from the Union's branches, which consist of blind and partially sighted people and their families, who form local groups in the hope that together, they might improve their lives under the KUB 'umbrella'.  Being blind in Kenya means you're much more likely to be uneducated, unemployed, very poor and with less access to vital information and services - all of which KUB tries to address with its limited resources.  But anyone who works for a charity will tell you that a big part of their motivation is meeting beneficiaries, the people you're actually there to help, so you can see the impact your organisation is making.


For a number of reasons, I hadn't experienced any gathering of the KUB community since I arrived in July.  This had been a frustrating situation, as I felt I hadn't experienced any of the 'work' we were aiming to fund.  Then finally, in November last year, I was given my first chance to learn about our members in person when I attended the KUB's Annual Delegates Conference in Kaserani, just north of Nairobi...




A Buffet for the Blind


The Annual Delegates Conference was a gathering of 50 KUB members who had been elected to positions of local authority, plus 10 of my head office colleagues.  We arrived on a Friday evening, and stayed overnight and to have an AGM-style meeting on Saturday.  The members came from rural branches all over Kenya, very excited to meet together and hear the chairman review the year; but also because this was a chance to travel to Nairobi, stay in a hotel and eat big meals with lots of meat; things they could never afford to do if the KUB weren't paying. 

I was kept very busy on the Friday night.  The hotel, in their wisdom, had decided that the best way to feed 60 people would be buffet style.  A buffet, for 60 blind people. Imagine.  It was complete chaos.  Those with limited sight were serving big plates of steaming food in a new environment to those with no sight at all.  Everyone was at all times trying to attract a waiter, by shouting loudly and gesticulating wildly; and my colleagues and I weaving about between them, trying to get everyone fed.  The starter was just soup, so easy enough, but when it came to the multiple options for main course, no one let me off easily with 'a bit of everything, please' but instead wanted to know in great detail what was there so I could gather the right portions of everything.  And on, and on, with hotel staff cleverly hiding away as we worked the tables like a shift of brand new serving staff.

After serving food, I was called on to guide the delegates to the toilet, back again, to their rooms, to a meeting room, to the bar, and back again.  In the office, my blind colleagues are so used to the layout they never need help but all of a sudden even they needed my help to get anywhere.  And poor them, because I'd never learned to guide properly.  Luckily, one of the board members, Rose, experienced in person what a poor guide I was and gave me a crash course - what to do at stairs, obstacles and in open spaces, and before long I was a pro.

Guiding gave me the chance to speak to lots of friendly members that evening, all of whom invited me to their rural homes to see their shambas (land with crops) and all (men and women) wanted my contact details.  They were delighted to meet this muzungu and shake my hand and (in some cases) feel my muzungu hair (just to check).  I was sharing a room with the Nairobi branch's Women's Representative, a very petite lady called Angela who lives in Kibera slum, (see Dan's post on this area). Shy and smiley, she only needed my help to guide her around the room initially. This was a real holiday for her: She was completely delighted to be laying on the bed beneath the covers, underneath the mosquito net, listening to the television next to the bed.  Kibera this wasn't.  When I spent time guiding her to and from the room she called me a Gift from God.



Hitting the dancefloor


That evening I stayed up late with the boys from head office at the hotel disco. They educated me in the tribal politics of a Kenyan dancefloor: more than two Kikuyu songs in a row and you start to lose your audience and the disco thins - you gotta mix it up, that's the key, throw in a Kamba song, or a Kalenjin vibe. They also bought me cold beer. No one who knows me will be surprised that I hit the dancefloor, much to my colleagues' delight.  They were impressed that despite being a muzungu, I have some rhythm. I'd forgotten my camera, so sadly I don't have evidence of the boys' energetic disco-ing. I can confirm though that all of them are great dancers, even if we did have to move the profoundly blind Johnson back onto the dancefloor from time to time (he and I found this most funny).  The trickiest part was stumbling around this large hotel compound in the dark trying to guide my colleague when we'd both had a few beers. How could I guide him back to his room if he couldn't remember which one it was? 'This is like the blind leading the blind!' he laughed.



K - U - B - HOOyah!

The next morning, the meeting kicked off around mid-morning with singing, clapping and a very energetic call and response:


My colleague Ken, tallest man in the room: KUB - HOOyah!
Everyone in the room apart from me: HOOyah!!


It makes sense for a group of people with visual impairment to keep things very vocal, and the out-loud introductions took the best part of an hour: province by province, lots of clapping and Karibu! (welcome) and many rounds of KUB-HOOyah!  The whole thing felt fun and informal, with everyone joyfully raising their voices to a large room of people, and hearing the response.  When the head office staff introduced themselves, I took the opportunity to practice my basic Swahili.  Everyone listened very carefully as the muzungu got up to speak. I said:


Hamjambo! (hello to all)  (everyone responds Hatujambo)
Ninaitwa Helen, Ninafanya kazi Kenya Union of the Blind.  Mimi ni mjitoleagi (I am a volunteer).

I ended with an afterthought: nimetoka uingereza (I come from England) which produced the most ENORMOUS cheer in the room.  They were all so delighted I was from England! 

(A note on England:  Far from feeling bitter towards their one-time colonial masters, Kenyans seem to love everything about England.  Luckily, devotion to the English Premier League isn't such a thing in the visually impaired community, so I was spared the usual question, 'which team are you?' followed by my apologetic attempts to explain that Yes, I'm English but No I don't follow football.  Almost as tricky as trying to explain that I don't attend church - baffling to Kenyans.)


Introductions over, housekeeping happened: who will guide people for their short calls?  (that's loo trips to you and me) and Who will sensitise the management at this hotel? (i.e. who will teach them about the needs of blind guests?  Despite probably being the only hotel they stayed in all year, EVERYONE complained loudly about the service, food and staff.  I think they take their roles as advocates for the visually impaired very seriously, or at least when the Chairman is present...)


The rest of the 5 hour meeting was a run-down of the year's activities, donors won (and lost) by head office, issues raised with various policy makers and burning questions from the branches in each province asked by the Provincial Representative.  It was mainly in Swahili, with some English so I definitely didn't catch it all, but grasped the gist. 


An interesting issue that delegates brought up was one of retirement age.  They wanted Kenya's government to raise the retirement age for blind people (and presumably for all those with a disability), and wanted the board to start lobbying for this to change.  I didn't understand - raise the retirement age?  Why?  My colleague explained the thinking by saying: 'Blind people take longer than others to find a job and find a wife, so they have less years to build up money for retirement.  They don't want to be forced from their government jobs into retirement at 60.'  With no pension in Kenya, and our members less likely to be setting up a small business in their twilight years (as is the norm), this does feel like an important issue to raise with Kenyan decision makers.


The main and best speaker was Dr Chomba, the KUB's Chairman. A warm, humble and highly educated man, Dr Chomba received his PhD in London and lectures in Special Education at Kenyatta University. He's also a lifelong advocate of the rights of those with visual impairment, and still recalls when he was the first disabled Kenyan to try and stand as an MP. He was told in the 1970s that he didn't qualify to be a candidate because he 'could not read English'. He reads in Braille. He's also great fun to be around, and someone at the event captured us sharing a giggle...

Dr Chomba and I

The meeting ended with an event even more exciting than dinner, or a muzungu speaking Swahili: the distribution of per diems.  Kenyans from all walks of life LOVE per diems.  Basically an allowance for being away from their homes/offices, per diems are petty cash given away just for showing up.  I have been very cynical about this system in the past, and lost of people seem to genuinely work the per diems 'circuit' to supplement their salary - but as I watched everyone queue up to receive their share, I wondered if giving a little money is just the best the KUB can do right now. 


Coming from the rural area, a 2000 shilling (£15) per diem is an enormous windfall.  It's certainly the least sustainable method of development, and is pretty much the reverse of the VSO philosophy of sharing skills and leaving a legacy... but it's...something.  When people talk about times being tough in Kenya, it's not like explaining how they'll have to downgrade to Pizza Express from Strada.  Tough times mean hunger, and having to wear the same shirt every day as the one you wore all of last year.  Even more so when your chances are employment are so low, because you can't compete against the people in your town with full sight.  Short term joy, but I know the problems remain the same.  The best explanation of the role of Kenya Union of the Blind I've heard comes from my boss Jackson: we are trying to change what it means to be blind in Kenya.  Right on, I thought, but that stuff takes time. In the meantime, why not share a little wealth with the members of our union who have none?


The delegates left the meeting in the highest of spirits and those who hadn't already asked for my number made sure they did so before boarding their buses home.  While I'd met many members, and started to understand more clearly, the obvious hardship of their lives, I still felt like I was being kept at arm's length from our members' rural homes, from the people who can't or won't travel to Nairobi. What about the people who don't have enough education to speak English and stand as a branch official?  How can we help them?


Although my introduction to the KUB community at the Annual Delegates Conference had been great, this office-rat still needed an injection of motivation: I wanted to visit a branch.  Three months later, I got to do just that.  It started with an early morning phone call....

To be continued :o)