Long Road to Kerio

Field Trip

A traditional manyatta and the girls' dorm

Last week I got a very cool opportunity—to go out on a mission with the UN World Food Programme and UNICEF.  My friend Sonia used to work with a man (W) in Mombasa, but he was transferred to a post with the WFP here in Lodwar about two years ago.  When she told him I was in town, he was willing to take me out to the field for the day!  It was a really fun day and I felt like an “insider” with a big, well-funded development project, something I had yet to experience during the time I have spent working at tiny NGOs.

I was picked up in a giant Land Cruiser—one of those really tall ones fitted with scuba equipment—and taken to the WFP Lodwar office to meet W.  The place obviously has tight security and a pretty cool office with AIR CONDITIONING!!!!  W gave me a briefing of their projects and then the head security officer briefed me.  He had a really thick accent and at one point I lost track of what he was saying while he was pointing to the region of Turkana that borders South Sudan.  All I caught was “Something something something THE CHICKEN GRABBERS something something something AK-47s.”  I can only imagine what he was talking about.   I did learn that the central part of the region stays pretty safe, but the parts that border the land of other tribes can be very dangerous due to cattle rustling, and, apparently, chicken-grabbing. 

We departed in another UN-emblazoned truck with the UNICEF crew following us.  We were also following a military vehicle full of heavily armed guards.  Apparently UN programs have to travel with security when they go more than 12 km from base.  It all felt very official.  It wasn’t long before we were outside of town and cruising through the desert over the bumpiest road I have ever encountered.   We drove and drove to Kerio, a town west of Lodwar near Lake Turkana.  When we reached the town we went truly off the road, driving for ages along a completely desolate landscape.  It was flatter than Minnesota and almost completely devoid of trees.  There were clumps of bushes and a few thorny trees, but the trees often get cut down because many people make charcoal here.  At intervals there were huge bags full of black charcoal waiting to be picked up by trucks to take into Kitale and Nairobi.  The people here must have very few options if they turn to making charcoal in the blistering heat out of the few trees they have.

After 3 hours of driving through clouds of dust and dry riverbeds (there were deep holes dug in the dry beds where people had attempted to extract water), a school appeared out of nowhere.  Did I mention I saw a mirage on the way?  It was completely befuddling.  I was convinced we had reached Lake Turkana.

The school was tiny but was apparently a boarding school for 400 students.  The WFP had constructed a borehole there that they wanted to check out, and they also needed to inform the teachers that some important Canadian donors from Child Fund would be touring sites the next week, so, basically, you guys need to put your game faces on.  There is no cell network there so the only way to communicate is to just show up. 

They had a short meeting and then we drove to the next school, about an hour away.  This school was totally unprepared for a visit and the solar pump for the borehole was not working.  I could tell everyone was stressed about getting it working before the donors came to check it out.  After all the driving, there was only time to spend about 45 minutes at each school.   It was cool to see how the boreholes brought the whole community to the school to get drinking water and water their herds.  I saw a lot of really old-school Turkana men and women from really traditional communities.  W pointed out some really young girls (8 or 9 yo) who were wearing the traditional beads around their necks and said that those girls do not attend school because they are “reserved for marriage.”  Literate girls fetch a much lower bride price, so the opportunity cost of sending girls to school is really high. 

After the trip I was glad to be in the backseat of a loud car so I could just do some thinking on the ride back.  It all made my project seem really futile.  Digital stories in the face of really young girls getting married and dropping out of school?  Kids who don’t even go to school because they are nomadic-pastoralist (nothing wrong with that, I support mobile schools are other culturally appropriate programs)?  It is pretty frustrating, but one person cannot do everything, so I just have to take this all to heart and keep working!