Part 1 of 2: Team blogging – part of the media training in sunny Kampala

Farah Mihlar

It didn’t take too long to warm up to Kampala. So much of the city felt familiar, reminding me of parts of my home country Sri Lanka. The tropical climate, dark greenery, papayas, mangoes and pineapples. The laidback, friendly, warm culture… sorry… I may be getting carried away here. I am at work, I must assert! (Just for the record and also as my bosses will read this.) I am in Uganda for a five-day media training for community activists, to help them to promote their stories in the international media. MRG has for many years worked with some of the poorest and marginalized communities in the world, who face constant issues of discrimination. They often share with us poignant and hard-hitting stories about the realities they face, but they have very limited means to get these stories across in the media. The training in Kampala is the first of nine trainings that we are conducting regionally, in Asia, Africa and Latin America – phew…. no pressure at all. ( I won’t say how stressed our Africa Regional Information Officer, Mohamed, looked on the first day.)

The activists were being trained to write press releases and news stories, film and edit video footage, edit audio and use the internet by creating their own websites and also using social networking sites to publicise their issues.

Five days on, as I write, I have to say the results have been exceptional. The motivation and interest from all of the team was always high – despite some of the sessions being very technical. Note the reference to a team – this is because, throughout the five days, all of the participants have both worked and played together (the latter I will explain later). Many of us have become friends. We have learned not just media skills but also about various different communities in Africa, and understood deep and challenging human rights issues affecting each group. Ten of the participants are from Uganda and eight from other African countries, including Ethiopia, Somaliland, Nigeria, the DRC, Kenya and Zimbabwe. Despite the diversity in origin, culture and nationality, the common characteristics of being from a minority community and having an interest in the media has connected everyone.

Group work on designing a webpage

Learning about blogging and how to write a blog was one of the final sessions in the training. As part of the whole learning experience, we thought we would try out an interesting experiment of blogging as a team. To avoid confusion let me explain a few basic points:

Technique – I am writing the blog. Participants comment and share views, all of which are typed out. The written content is projected onto a screen so everyone knows what is being written.

Structure – the blog appears in two parts.

Content – I will fill in the background and explain some comments where needed. The blog also includes some further commentary from me, which was added as we wrote together.

Contributors – See below the full names of all participants, the communities and organizations they represent. Anecdotal information on each of the participants has been added in, in the process of writing.

Let us begin… drum roll…

After five days of intense media training, the team first talk about what they gained from the training. Thomas, who works with a small pastoralist community called the Endorois in Kenya, is the first to respond:
‘The web,’ he says.
‘What about the web,’ I ask.
‘It is going to help me a lot in terms of creating our own website for the Enderois. The new editing software was useful to know.’
The Endorois have been evicted from their traditional homeland in Kenya’s Rift Valley to make room for a national park, which is visited by thousands of tourists from Europe every year. MRG has, for years, partly through its Trouble in Paradise campaign, advocated for the community to have access to their homeland and for a share of the tourism revenue.

Rahel, dubbed the Ethiopian beauty, says: ‘Writing a press release… it was very hard for me to do it earlier, I had to get two or three people to approve. Now, I am confident. I can write it on my own.’ Rahel works for an umbrella organization of pastoralist groups in Ethiopia.

Mukthar, who everyone sarcastically refers to as ‘shy guy’ (apparently he was for the first part of the training, until he transformed in the nights out) makes the following list:

• How to write a good press release.
• How to develop a blog.
• Edit audio video.

On the last evening, we organized a cultural event. All participants were asked to bring something that represented their culture and they were asked to speak a little bit about it. Mukthar, turned up in an ‘I love Somaliland’ T-shirt. Some of complained that it did not look very original, but then he explained the T-shirt had a picture of a camel, which is an integral part of the culture of Somaliland. Since he couldn’t bring the camel along, he wore the T-shirt.

Team photo at cultural night

Joan, who works with cow-herding communities in Western Uganda, was referred to as the Queen of Banyankore last night (see picture). ‘We used to write press releases, but I understand that they were not up to standard. This will help me better it,’ she says, in reference to how the training will help her with her work. ‘I never thought I would one day have this opportunity to learn video/audio recording, interviewing techniques, being behind a camera – it took me to the next level and I gained confidence out of the whole experience,’ she adds.

Albert, always subtly humorous and very colourful last night (see picture) says, ‘I learnt how media can be used to advocate for the rights of minority groups. I also learnt how to use some equipment – like a video camera and to write a press release that can be used for advocacy.’ Albert works with the Karamojong community, in northern Uganda. Karamojong are pastoralists, who are rich in culture and tradition but suffer from inequality, discrimination and are also affected by a conflict that affects the region.

Timothy works with the Batwa ‘pygmy’ community in South Western Uganda. For our cultural evening, he showed us some impressive dance steps practiced by his tribe and based on rhythmic jumping. As he speaks, the team comments that they would have liked to see him jump higher. Ben, another Ugandan participant, says he curtailed himself out of respect for the roof, which may have otherwise blown off. For Timothy, the plus points of the training were how to reach the media through press releases and press conferences and website development. ‘We already have a website, which is in poor shape, so we learnt to make it more user-friendly and use it to promote the situation of Batwa.’

Mitiku, Joan and Albert at the cultural evening

Agnes, our champion of women’s rights, who charmed all the men with her beautiful Nigerian attire, adds: ‘Everything about this workshop would put Bette women in the international scene. It makes me very excited that very soon a lot more people will hear about our community and women.’ Agnes works to strengthen women’s rights in the Bette community in Nigeria.

On that note I will end part one of this blog. I admit, it all does sound a little too positive. This is not because I was a trainer (even though I would love to believe that was the reason). It was just a cumulative positive experience for everyone– it is true!! As if not enough positivity, Mohamed adds: “This has been a great team to work with. There has been a super blend of team dynamics.”

I promise to highlight a few more of the contentious issues in the next part. See you then.

Read part 2 of this blog: Apparently all Africans originate from Ethiopia – new discovery at MRG media training

Contributors

• Agnes Ingwu, Abanbeke Development Association, Obudu City – Nigeria.
• Albert Lokoru, Karamoja Agro-Pastoral Development Programme (KADP), Karamoja – Uganda.
• Drake Nyamugabwa, Masindi Pastoralist Group, Masindi – Uganda.
• Faith Nzilani Musinga, Centre of Minority Rights and Development, Harare – Zimbabwe.
• Mohamed Matovu, MRG Regional Information Officer, Kampala – Uganda.
• Mohamed Mukhtar, Media and Rights Somaliland, Hargeisa – Somaliland.
• Mitiku Tiksa, SOS Sahel Ethiopia, Addis Ababa – Ethiopia.
• Mugabe Herbat Joram, Pastoralist Women to Break Cultural Chains, Kiboga District – Uganda.
• Niwagaba Joan, Mbarara Development Agency, Mbarara – Uganda.
• Omunga Benjamin, Katakwi Urafiki Foundation, Katakwi District – Uganda.
• Peninah Zaninka, United Organisation for Batwa Development, Kampala – Uganda.
• Rahel Negussie, Pastoralist Forum Ethiopia, Addis Ababa – Ethiopia.
• Sandra Nassali, UgaBYTES Initiatives, Kabalagala – Uganda.
• Samuel Kaweesi, Nakasongora Pastoralists Association, Nakasongora – Uganda.
• Tuteene Kusimweray, Action pour la Promotion des Droits de Minorites Autochtones en Afrique Centrale, Bukavu – D.R.C.
  
• Thomas Kiptiony Chepsoi, Endorois Welfare Council, Nakuru Town – Kenya.
• Mpalanyi Michael, Uganda Land Alliance, Kampala District – Uganda.

“Taking the Ogiek out of the Mau is like taking a fish out of water”

Chris Chapman, MRG’s Head of Conflict Prevention meets with Kenya’s hunter-gatherer Ogiek community who, in the face of a possible eviction, are fighting to stay back on their traditional lands.

In the Mau Forest Complex, which is home to the Ogiek community, we met Rose, the headmistress of the primary school in Mboroti village. According to the government-determined pupil-teacher ratio, there should be 14 teachers – in fact there are 8. Only 5 are Ogiek. As a result, class sizes vary from 70 to over 90. The school is located in idyllic surroundings among the pine-covered hills, but Rose tells us about her constant struggle to keep classes going in the face of government neglect; the classrooms, with their blackboards covered in trigonometry, broken windows and dilapidated wooden benches, are a vivid testimony to that struggle. Last winter, after heavy rains, the toilets sunk into the ground; she applied to an emergency government fund to rebuild them but has heard nothing since then.

Loggers in the Mau Forest

I had come to Mau to talk to the people about their future; they are under threat of eviction from the forest, their ancestral homeland. The Mau Forest is an important water catchment area and the government of Kenya is concerned that the residents of the forest are committing irreparable environmental damage and must be relocated. But the Ogiek are not the only current residents of Mau; in recent decades the forest complex has seen an influx of loggers, tea planters and other agricultural settlers.

The government accepts that the Ogiek are the rightful residents of the forest; however its latest proposal is to evict everyone from the forest, and then allow the Ogiek to return; this proposal, understandably, makes the Ogiek very nervous. They claim that they have lived in the forest for hundreds of years, in harmony with their surroundings. Their hunter-gatherer lifestyle, which does not involve either farming or livestock grazing, has a very low impact on their environment. They also practice bee-keeping, which actually aids the propagation of wild flowers and trees.

At an elevation of around 2,000-2,500 feet, the climate in the forest is very different from the low-lying plains; the heat is less intense and the air pleasant and cool. “If we are evicted we may not survive. We do not know what the climate will be like wherever they resettle us. Removing the Ogiek from Mau is like taking fish out of water.” They talk of two previous displacements, one in 1989 and one during the 1930’s, during the British colonial period; the Ogiek who were displaced lost all of their animals; some died of diseases such as jiggers, and some returned, destitute. The Ogiek have a very strong attachment to their land, it is part of their identity. As a small community – they number about 20,000 – they fear for the loss of their culture, and assimilation by more numerous neighbouring ethnic groups; in fact, the 1930’s displacement was a result of the Carter Land Commission, which recommended that the Ogiek be absorbed by neighbouring communities because of its small size.

As I was talking to the villagers, I saw a large cloud of dust rising up in the distance. It was the third lorry, stacked up with logs, that I had seen that day. I quickly whipped out my camera and took a snap, it was a flat-bed affair with a second flat-bed hooked up behind, carrying what must have been 50-60 fully grown trunks, being shipped out of the forest by commercial loggers. As the NGO Survival International points out, the destruction of the Mau Forest has escalated in recent decades in direct correlation with the invasion by outsiders, whether loggers, tea planters or agricultural settlers, as demonstrated by satellite imagery.

The Kenyan government is using environmental arguments to support its push to clear out the residents of Mau. But when lorries are trundling out of the forest everyday loaded up with logs, in full view of everyone, it is possible to cast doubts on the seriousness of the government’s intentions. Community members confided to me that they suspect the government itself of selling franchises to the loggers. The Ogiek Peoples Development Programme (OPDP) a partner organisation of MRG, whose staff accompanied me to the Mau, is working to fight the eviction of the Ogiek; they say the loggers and other recent settlers should be evicted, but claim that they as original inhabitants and stewards of the forest, have the right to remain.

Cutting a shine on the Endorois dancefloor

Emma Eastwood, MRG’s Trouble in Paradise Campaign Manager, rounds off her trip to the Rift Valley discussing Obama ‘the Kenyan wonder boy’ and struts her stuff dancing with the Endorois. Sign our petition to pressure the Kenyan government to guarantee the Endorois community’s traditional way of life.

Today we take yet another bone-shaking ride up a poor excuse for a road to the Mochongoi Forest, which at around 2500m affords us views of the entire Endorois territory, bordered by dark hills swathed in rain clouds on the horizon.

The forest (which represents about one tenth of their land) is as crucial to the Endorois as the land surrounding Lake Bogoria. In the old days during the dry season the community would migrate up here with their cattle to the plentiful pastures – that was until the government gazetted the Forest in the 1970s, depriving them of yet more of their ancestral homelands.

To an outsider it would seem that the Endorois have plenty of space – only 60, 000 people scattered over a huge area, encompassing dry lowland plains dotted with irrigated maize fields and this highland plateau covered with lush grasslands and conifer groves. Playing devil’s advocate I point this out to Kipkazi, but he’s quick to remind me that the crux of the matter lies in the community’s lack of collective title to any of this land – they live daily with the possibility of being kicked out of their homes at any minute (in much the same way as they were from Lake Bogoria in the 1970s).

High up on the plateau we meet the volunteers who run the Human Rights Office, a humble wooden hut festooned with last year’s Christmas decorations and calendars portraying Obama ‘the Kenyan wonder boy’. Politics – everyone we’ve met so far is obsessed with the subject – the only words in Swahili I can ever make out are Obama, Raila, Kbaki and Obama and more Obama.

The main topic of discussion revolves around whether the presidential candidate will bring about change for Kenyans – so many people are pinning so much hope on this one man. Incidentally in Nairobi we found out that Obama’s father’s family are from the indigenous fisher folk community of the northern shores of Lake Victoria, a group MRG recently featured in our briefing on Kenya.

Paul Chepsoi, the Human Rights Office Chairman, looking incongruously smart in the rural surroundings in his suit and tie, takes us through the history of the dispossession of the Endorois from the Mochongoi Forest (and their continued struggle for the return of their lands). He accompanies us on a tour of the area, which is dotted with traditional mud huts (and some newer dwellings made entirely from zinc sheets, which, although easier to maintain, must become ovens in these temperatures during the day).

We meet the Endorois elders from one of the villages who tell us of how they are forced to graze their cattle on barren lands whilst outsiders have been allowed to settle on more fertile plots.

Volunteers at the Mochongoi Forest Human Rights Office

My education in pastoralist culture continues…I’m told that back in the day an Endorois girl’s family would have received ten cows for her hand in marriage, but nowadays she’s worth only four. My companion Neil wonders whether that’s deflation in the value of girls or inflation in the value of cows…Kipkazi says he would have been a rich man in the old days – he has four daughters!

Later that afternoon our visit to the Endorois community is rounded off by a show of traditional song and dance in a shady clearing backed by an enormous termite mound. After a welcome dance we were shown to a gnarled log and seated to enjoy the show – which features songs about the importance of Lake Bogoria and the community’s hopes for the return of their homeland. I am embarrassingly moved to tears by the spectacle and am thankful for my overlarge sunglasses and the distraction of trying to film and record the proceedings (and keep my dignity when obliged to strut my stuff on the dancefloor…)

Endorois traditional dance

We finish off the afternoon by giving impromptu speeches which we hope in some small way can communicate how, with the support of people like you, the Trouble in Paradise campaign can bring about real change for this resilient and courageous community whose traditional culture and livelihood is under threat.

There’s rubies in them there hills

Apart from having lost their land to make way for a game reserve, the Endorois, like many other indigenous peoples throughout the world, have also been adversely affected by opencast mining. Emma Eastwood, MRG’s Trouble in Paradise Campaign Manager, investigates.

In 2003, without consultation with the community, a private company began ruby mining on the land the Endorois had been forced on to after their eviction from Lake Bogoria. After complaints from the community of diarrhoea and stomach cramps, the Endorois’ sole drinking water sources were tested in June 2006 and found to be contaminated by poisonous chemicals used in the mining process. The Kenyan government forced the mine to shut down a few months later.

Wilson Kipsang Kipkazi, Secretary of the Endorois Welfare Council and our guide whilst visiting the area, eagerly shows me a document he recently found on the internet (which was mysteriously withdrawn soon after) detailing the amount of rubies the company running the mining operation had extracted and the market value of the gems – 1grm of rubies sells for around 135, 000 Ksh (approx US$193). He suspects that the company may never have paid any taxes on the revenue it gained from the mine and that the rubies were extracted under a prospecting license rather than a full mining license.

And so we set out to visit the abandoned mine, a two-hour, dusty ride down a road that often resembled a dry riverbed, scattering baboons as we bumped our way further and further into the bush. How they had ever managed to get huge earthmovers and mining machinery into such an isolated area in the first place baffled me.

After various 4-wheel drive dilemmas we ditched the car and continued on foot down a steep track towards the abandoned mine. Although the whole operation was abandoned over 2 years ago, the landscape was still scarred – exposing the purple earth that indicated the presence of rubies beneath the soil.

We forded the river (the very same one that had poisoned the community…. I put thoughts of bilharzia and elephantitis out of mind as I felt my barefoot way across the slippery rocks) and climbed up to inspect the mining equipment. The whole area had an eerie feeling – what was left of the rusted, derelict machinery had been ransacked and vandalised in the post-election violence according to Kipkazi, a couple of donkeys (looking considerably fatter and well fed than the poor beasts I’d seen toiling away in Morocco a few years back) eyed us docilely from the top of the mine shaft, ubiquitous goats, dotted around the site, bleated mournfully.

Abandoned machinery at the mine site

A small group of Endorois men who’d been tending their goats nearby appeared from nowhere – the sense of remoteness I felt was misleading, the area is far more densely populated than it first appears. Kipkazi and Richard Yegon, an elder from an Endorois village called Kapkuikui who was also accompanying us, chatted with them about their experience of the mine.

Endorois men who live and tend their goats close to the mine

Apparently hardly any of the people from the surrounding area were employed here – and when they were it was only to shovel dirt into the cleaning and sorting machines, they were never allowed to see the rubies. They were also prevented from grazing their goats and cattle within the vicinity of the mine (bear in mind that we’re on Endorois land here and permission was never sought for the mining operations from the community) and were often harassed by security guards.

Whilst Kipkazi and Richard poked around in the dry, purple earth (hoping they might get lucky?) one of the men showed me a ruby the size of a sunflower seed, which would fetch around 1000 Ksh at a local dealers. When I asked him what he thought about the mine he said, “I wish it had never existed.”

A ruby found at the mine site

Kipkazi tells me that a 2006 Mining Bill, which contemplates payment to local communities for mining privileges, is stagnating at a draft stage. Same old story…

The road to Lake Bogoria is littered with…..goats, sheep and cows…

Emma Eastwood, Trouble in Paradise Campaign manager is in Kenya to visit the Endorois community. After travelling through the mighty Rift Valley, she ends up in the Lake Bogoria National Reserve – the Endorois ancestral land from which they have been expelled. Read Emma’s blog and sign up to our online petition.

Women in colourful headscarves, children without shoes, men pulling impossible loads taking the place of the donkey they can’t afford, alpine highland scenery and suddenly, on the road about 50km north of Nairobi, the Rift Valley falls away as far as the eye can see below us. Kipkazi, from the Endorois Welfare Council, who is acting as our guide for this trip, Neil, MRG Programmes Assistant, and I, marvel at the view of hazy, distant lakes, extinct volcanic craters and dry flat plains which stretch away to the horizon.

View of the Rift Valley

We see zebras grazing on the outskirts of Naivasha and baboons dodging traffic with tiny babies hanging off their backs. I can’t resist the temptation to text home ( O praise the African obsession with mobile phones) I seem to have a network in even the most remote spots. I receive a reply – London is grey and workmen are drilling concrete on the building site next door…

The Endorois are semi-nomadic pastoralists, people who earn their livelihood through the rearing of livestock. Some say that pastoralists occupy over 70% of the land in Kenya, and this is borne out by what we see on our road trip from Nairobi to Lake Bogoria. As we travel northwards we see hundreds of goats, sheep and cows grazing on sparse patches of grass by the roadside. On entering Endorois territory, just north of the Equator, the animals disregard traffic rules altogether and wander absent-mindedly all over the road, forcing our Kenyan driver John, who seems very used to this behaviour, to respectfully manoeuvre at a crawling pace around the distracted beasts.

Endorois man herding his cows

You wouldn’t want to injure one; these animals are of an almost sacred importance to pastoralist communities and according to Kipkazi a fully-grown cow can fetch around 35, 000 Ksh (about US$500). As Dr Wako, Chairman of the Regional Elders Council, an MRG-backed forum of pastoralist leaders from Ethiopia, Tanzania, Kenya and Uganda, said to me last week at MRG’s African Commission seminar in Kampala, “For pastoralists, sheep and goats are like a current account, they provide us with ready cash, whilst cattle and camels are a savings account, they provide for our future and our children’s future.”

After five hours of driving we reach Lake Bogoria National Reserve, a game park created in 1973 by the Kenyan government, the object of the Endorois’ struggle. The Endorois were evicted from their ancestral lands to make way for the Reserve, depriving them not only of prime pasture for cattle and goats during the harsh dry season but also of sites important for cultural activities such as naming or initiation ceremonies and the only available salt licks for cows in the area. MRG’s Trouble in Paradise campaign is aimed at helping the Endorois get redress for the loss of their lands.

Entrance to Lake Bogoria National Reserve

As we drive around the lake as the sun begins to set behind the dark escarpment overlooking the Reserve, we see the pink blur of thousands of flamingos gathering by the water’s edge, zebras and warthogs, gazelles, impalas, ostriches and giant tortoises – a veritable wildlife haven and overwhelmingly beautiful. Yet somehow it all seems too empty – there are no humans. Unlike elsewhere, there are no small boys tending their flocks of sheep, or herds of cows here. My appreciation of the wildlife and scenery is tinged by sadness.

Flamingos on the shores of Lake Bogoria

Despite being originally promised 25% of revenue from the Reserve and 80% of the jobs in the park – today only a handful of Endorois work as wardens and the community only began to receive a paltry 4% of money raised at the gates in 2006 (33 years after the creation of the Reserve). Improved roads were also promised by the government when they gazetted the land for the park in 1973. Yet those roads have never materialised – even the road through the Reserve is a match for our 4 wheel drive.

Kipkazi is visibly excited by being back in his homeland – as he reminisces about the fertile grazing and plentiful fresh water supply in the area I picture how it must have been in those happier, more prosperous times.

He points out the hot springs and geysers representing sacred sites for the Endorois, which, together with the flamingos, are one of the main reasons tourists now visit the park. He says that legend has it that ghosts inhabit the geysers and call out your name, enticing you into the afterlife – community elders used to offer tobacco and milk in the old days to appease the spirits. When he was a boy it was forbidden to even mention someone’s name when you were near this place, in case that person was taken away by the ghosts.

We press on and visit other traditional sites. Many of the Endorois’ ancestors are buried around the park – the community would normally come and visit their graves for children’s naming ceremonies, but are now prevented from doing so by the authorities. At the southern, isolated end of the lake Kipkazi shows us the place where young boys (aged around 12) used to come for initiation ceremonies – they would stay for 1 month in the bush. The area is wooded to provide shade for those undergoing the hardships of the ritual and a small river flows nearby which would allow the boys to quench their thirst.

Ancient fig trees at Endorois initiation site, Lake Bogoria

As the light fades we decide to call it a day and head out of the Reserve. Miniature antelopes called dikdiks dodge our headlights along the way.

If you haven’t done already, I urge you to sign up to our online petition supporting the Endorois (and get as many of your friends, family and colleagues to do so too). We’ll be handing the petition over to the Kenyan government at the end of 2008. By adding your voice you can help right the wrongs of the past and allow this unique community to fully benefit from the lucrative tourism conducted upon their homeland.

Kenya’s minority fishermen fail to benefit from bounty in the lake

Ishbel Matheson hears how the rich resources of Lake Victoria are dwindling, while the Nyala fishing community fails to benefit

Kisumu, on the shores of Lake Victoria, still hasn’t recovered from Kenya’s post-election violence. After nightfall, this normally thriving city, vibrant with music, dancing, eating and drinking, is unusually subdued. The scars of the violence run deep. Indiscriminate police shooting left many dead in Kisumu after the disputed poll results.

Kisumu is the heartland of the Luo tribe – whose main political leader is Raila Odinga. It is widely believed in Kenya (including by many from the dominant Kikuyu tribe) that President Kibaki and his Kikuyu-dominated PNU rigged the election to keep Raila’s ODM out of power.

Despite being the second largest tribe, the Luos have never held Kenya’s top job, and following the Grand Co-alition deal, brokered by Kofi Annan, the presidency remains with the Kikuyus. This still rankles with some Luos – and Raila had a tough job selling the benefits of the co-alition to his people when he travelled to Kisumu a week ago.

But I did not travelled to Kisumu to reflect on the broader Kenyan political picture. I went to see for myself the difficulties faced by the Nyala fishing community, a group who don’t even have official recognition, forget a place in the political life of the country. Despite the fact they provide an essential service, linked to the lake they call home, they do not benefit from the rich resources the lake holds. Instead, this group remains officially unrecognised in Kenya, and is normally assimilated into the bigger Luhya group. And down on the lakeshore, about three hours drive from Kisumu, the fishermen described their concerns about the dwindling fish stocks in Lake Victoria.

They said the lake was fished round the clock, and even as we spoke, the long-prowed boats were skimming over the shimmering blue water, delivering their catch of tilapia and Nile Perch to buyers on the shore. The problem, say Nyalas, is that the business is now so profitable that outsiders from elsewhere in Kenya have moved in. ‘The lake is tired,’ one fisherman told me.

They welcomed the creation of a new fisheries ministry under the new government, but said it was only a first step. They also want to see a better road down to the beaches (the one that I travelled was lousy), and a processing plant in the area, instead of the fish being transported to far-away Nairobi.

And of course, they want a say in how the precious resources of Lake Victoria are managed. After all, they argue, they understand better than anyone the fragility of the lake’s eco-system. Without sustainable practices, they fear future generations of Nyala may not be able to survive from fishing for long.

You can find out more about how different ethnic groups in Kenya were affected by the post-election violence on MRG’s dedicated page Minority Voices from Kenya.

The Bad Car Day

In the second of her blogs from Kenya, Ishbel Matheson sees the living conditions of the Endorois, and has a bad car day

The day began badly. The car broke down, belching black smoke, on the outskirts of Eldoret, where I had been visiting camps for those displaced by the political violence earlier in the year. I was bound for Lake Bogoria in the Rift Valley – one of the premier tourist spots in the country. It is also the ancestral home of the Endorois – but when the area was gazetted as a National Park in the 1970s, the Endorois were evicted, with only paltry promises of compensation.

Endorois rep Wilson Kipkazi was keen that I see for myself the living conditions of his people. But it was well after 2pm before we arrived at Lake Bogoria, picked up two local councillors who had been waiting since early morning, and set off towards the Endorois villages. It was a pretty, but rough road that threaded through acacia trees, bound for a now-defunct ruby mine. But it was an encounter with a steep river crossing that proved to be our undoing.

The car lurched down a steep bank, into a shallow river… raced up the bank at the other side and… slid back down again. The driver, John Kangethe, tried again… but to no avail. And the tricky issue was that, not only could he not go forward, he didn’t have enough room to turn and race back up the other side.

Worst case scenarios flashed through my mind: hours of fruitless pushing, shoving stones under wheels, and oh yes, the familiar prospect of everyone but everyone, including the watoto (children), becoming experts on four-wheel driving, and shouting multiple, conflicting advice to the driver on which way to turn the wheel. The councillor, of course, was reluctant to go back – because he had arranged a community meeting on the other side – so insisted on a couple more valiant efforts up the bank on the other side. But once the gear box started to whine oddly, I foresaw a night in the car, in the middle of nowhere, beckoning. I started to wave my arms madly and shout, ‘No, no, STOP!’Although loathe to give up the sport of trying to get a 4×4 car up a river bank, everyone reluctantly agreed, and a temporary road in the river bank was cleared to allow the car to drive out.

The second councillor wanted us to continue to his community. ’It’s not far’he assured me, as I looked dubiously at my watch. 4pm. ’Just round there’, he said flapping his hands vaguely. Two hours later, the sun sinking spectacularly, in purple, crimson, and pink hues on the other side of the Rift, we were still grinding up a punishing escarpment, heading further and further away from civilisation. Anxiety beset me. Driving at night in Africa is always a really bad idea – especially when thunderclouds are in the sky, and there is no road to speak of. Finally, I said ‘We really, really do have to go back’. The councillor and Kipkazi conferred and the councillor made a couple of phone calls. Yes folks; even in the middle of nowhere, these days there is a mobile telephone network in Kenya. At the next bend, we came to a village where a community group had been waiting for about eight hours, for our arrival.

The men (and one woman) gathered in a little clearing, and a bench was brought for us, and as the last light faded from the sky, they explained the difficulties: the cattle-rustling Pokot were launching raids into their traditional lands, killing some people, and leading to greatly increased insecurity; the more frequent cycles of drought had also decimated herds, making it difficult to find the funds to send children to school; the nearest hospital was 60 kilometres away, so the community had built a dispensary and health clinic from their own funds; but the government had failed to staff it, or give it any supplies. Indeed, apart from a recent visit from the new District Councillor, they had not seen a politician in their area, or a government official since 2005. At heart, this small community shares many of the problems experienced by minorities around the world. In a country where political power flows from economic muscle, their ancient cattle-herding traditions, their remote location, has left them on the very fringes of society.

We spent barely half an hour with them, but they were unbelievably grateful that someone, anyone, from the outside world had come to listen to their story. Back in the car again, we lurched back down the escarpment. It was pitch dark, and Kipkazi and the councillor were conferring in their local language. Kipkazi turned to me, and told me that the place we had stopped on the way up to take pictures of the Rift was in fact a place where the Pokot hung out to ambush people. We passed two members of the Il Chamus tribe, armed with shotguns, guarding their villages from Pokot attacks. At that point, I felt things couldn’t get any worse. But they did. In the couple of hours since we had driven up, it had rained in the Valley. The ground was now dangerously soft, and we had to creep forward while the councillor leant out of the window, peering at the ground in the pitch dark, and guiding the car forward. After an hour and a half of nerve-wracking travel, including the further revelation that we were actually travelling on an ‘unofficial’ road, that the alternative was too dangerous, we eventually reached terra firma, and safety.

Later, in the hotel, I told Kipkazi that I’d been worried that we’d never get the car out of the river bed. He laughed and said. ‘Oh Cynthia and Clive got stuck for three hours’. (Cythia Morel is MRG’s legal cases officer, and Clive Baldwin was formerly head of international advocacy). ‘But,’ he continued, ‘it was fine when I took Sian,’ (an external evaluator for the MRG legal cases programme). A thought began to creep into my head. Had every single MRG staff member who had visited the Endorois gone down the ruby road? Was this some kind of initiation rite? Kipkazi confirmed he had also taken Samia Khan, our head of programmes, on the same torturous journey. ‘But,’ he said ‘Paile (MRG’s African Commission project officer) hasn’t been.’ He shot me a side-long twinkly glance. ‘She’s in my sights’. Paile, you have been warned!

Kenya – recovery or road to ruin?

Ishbel Matheson, MRG’s Head of Policy and Communications, reports back from a trip to Kenya to research the situation of minorities following the recent violence

From the moment I landed, the effects of the recent convulsive violence were felt. Politics are an obsession. When the evening news comes on, busy restaurants and bars fall silent. Everyone is trying to figure out whether the Grand Coalition government, bringing together the opposition ODM and President Kibaki’s PNU, is going to last. Although it is early days – it looks pretty fragile. Already the opposite wings of the coalition have publicly contradicted each other, on key issues such as how to bring the perpetrators of the violence to justice. Every detail of senior politicians movements, and statements, are pored over. For example, when the new Prime Minister, Raila Odinga, went to ’sell’ the new government in his heartland of Western Kenya at the weekend, it was immediately noted that no senior PNU official accompanied him. How much of a partnership is this government, in reality, Kenyans are asking themselves.

They are, however, anxious that the terrible ethnic violence doesn’t return. On a drive up through the Rift Valley, from Nakuru to Eldoret, the landscape was scattered with sobering reminders of what the violence cost – in human terms. Burnt-out shells of buildings – shops, sheds, homes – dot the side of the road. Farms have been abandoned. Here, the Kikuyu ethnic group was targeted by the Kalenjin. Scores of lives were lost and tens of thousands displaced. Although the largest ethnic group in Kenya (and one which has been dominant politically and economically since independence), the Kikuyu are a minority in this part of the Kenya.

Weeks have passed since the last violence, but no one feels secure. 20,000 Kikuyu are still camped in Eldoret’s showground. The government is threatening to forcibly relocate them back home, but many are simply too fearful. They say there must be talks with Kalenjin village elders first, to get guarantees about the return of property and security. On the Kalenjin side, there are calls for those arrested in the wake of the violence to be freed as a gesture of reconciliation – something the Kikuyu see as completely unacceptable. Depressingly, although everyone agrees that tribalism in Kenya has got completely out of control, and that the political class are mostly to blame, there has nevertheless been a hardening of ethnicity. One Kikuyu told me the main message his community drew from the violence is that “the Kikuyu weren’t strong enough…we won’t be caught out like this again”. It is simply too early to say yet whether Kenya is on the road to recovery – or to ruin.

You can find out more about how different ethnic groups in Kenya were affected by the post-election violence on MRG’s dedicated page Minority Voices from Kenya.

Abandoned identities

Whilst attending the 43^rd session of the African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights in Swaziland MRG’s International Human Rights Officer for Africa, Paile Chabane, continues with her work to facilitate the setting up of an African Minorities Forum

I wake up not feeling too well… have a bad headache and already wonder if I will be able to make it to our meeting in the afternoon. But other responsibilities force me to get up anyway and go into Mbabane town. Again I am struck at how unfamiliar this place feels.

Our side event is scheduled to start at 3pm and CEMIRIDE are busy finalizing the arrangements. Having arrived three days earlier, which afforded them the opportunity to attend the three-day NGO Forum which precedes the official Commission session, they say they managed to sell the idea to participants and so we could expect a satisfactory turn out. In the end, our event attracts about 22 people but sadly the Commissioners are busy with other meetings, and in spite of this being in their backyard, none of them are able to attend.

Our event programme includes a panel discussion with representatives of African linguistic, ethnic and religious minorities. I am moved when linguistic minority reps talk of being forced to abandon their identities. Apparently they are ashamed to be identified with their community because it is considered inferior. In order to participate and be accepted in the economic, social and political aspects of local life they choose to speak the language of the neighbouring, more dominant tribe. With respect to religious minorities, the representative indicated that in the wake of terror threats and fears, more rigorous requirements have been put in place when Muslims apply for travel documents and applicants have even been denied travel permits because they are immediately assumed to be linked to terrorists. This is in Africa!

The main objective of the event is to give shape to the idea of an African minorities forum. However participants emphasize that in order for it to succeed, it would need the true support and ownership of all those for whom it was established, going beyond the African Commission project which convened it, which will be coming to an end soon.

Following the meeting, we learn some interesting information about Swaziland, which serves to emphasize the many facets of this country. You may know that Swaziland is famous for its strict adherence to culture and tradition. So it’s certainly a very fascinating revelation to learn that there is an adult-only establishment not too far from where we are staying. It certainly sparks a lot of curiosity in some to go see for themselves and verify the existence of said establishment. Details of just how far this curiosity went shall be withheld on the principle and agreement commonly understood among the group that what happens in Swaziland, stays in Swaziland!

A tiny, mountainous, beautiful kingdom

Paile Chabane, MRG’s International Human Rights Officer for Africa, revisits the 43^rd session of the African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights in Swaziland

Once again my work has flung me back to the Southern region of Africa that is home… in Swaziland this time, where the 43^rd Ordinary Session of the African Commission on Human and Peoples’ Rights is being hosted. In fact, the tiny, beautiful, mountainous kingdom of Swaziland is a twin to my own country… the tiny, beautiful, mountainous kingdom of Lesotho, although if the truth were told the two countries are different in so many ways. In fact quite possibly the similarities end at the three adjectives I have referred to above: tiny, mountainous, kingdom. I often have to make the distinction between this kingdom and my own – Swazi culture is known for its colourful, controversial stories (such as the king and his many wives – our king has just the one!). And indeed the political and governance systems of the two states are very different. Returning to the subject of the monarchy – in Swaziland the king is the head of state as well as the government, while the king of Lesotho is a constitutional ceremonial monarch.

From a very young age I have visited Swaziland, mainly for family visits, since we have relatives here. But on this trip my presence here feels different… I have to figure things out on my own (and with the nine other colleagues and partners with whom I was attending the session as part of the MRG African Commission project). I have to interact with the place and the people beyond the orchestrated family occasions context. The funny thing is that it really feels like I am here for the very first time. In spite of the long intertwined history of the two countries (which together with Botswana have commonly come to be known in the region as Boleswa – Botswana, Lesotho and Swaziland), I have never really been able to wrap my mind around Swaziland. Every time I would think of Swaziland images of lots of trees, rain and dense mist at night would come to mind. Well, the trees are still here since Swaziland once had the biggest man made forest, but fortunately the rain and mist seem to have disappeared.

Anyway, here I am and it’s important to not lose sight of the reasons why I’m here this time. The first good news is that the hotel is quite nice… something which we have learned to not take for granted after a not so pleasant experience at the last session which still lingers fresh on one’s mind months later! Tomorrow there will be a side event which will try to advance the discussions from the seminar we had in March in Pretoria on minorities and minority rights in Africa (see previous blogs The show must go on and My work is done…). In particular, we will discuss a minorities’ forum in Africa, which was one of the recommendations of the seminar. We hope to launch the forum at the November session of the African Commission.

MRG has supported five project partners who were at the seminar to attend this session in order to undertake further lobbying, so in total we have a formidable team of 10 ready to take on the Commission.

Being the last one to arrive in Swaziland the first thing I need to do is find my partners… there seems to be no sign of them… how hard can it be to find at least one of the other 9 members of the group? Then I learn… they have gone to a barbeque…