Twelve blind dates

This evening, all the volunteers have been on a blind date. The system worked like this: the boys met at 6 and were sent to various restaurants in the area. The girls met at 6.15 and were instructed to attend the appropriate locations (we had one main matchmaker orchestrating the whole thing). We would have to chat to our date for 1 hour before reuniting in 1 central bar. Everyone had made a bit of an effort and dressed up smart. The girls were even in make up for once.


When I arrived at the café I recognised my Kenyan friend, Charles, waiting for me. I've always thought he was quite nice, a bit of a cheeky chap but underneath it quite clever and sensitive. This assessment remains unchanged by the obligation to talk to him for an hour. Indeed we actually stretched in out to 2 hours. That's a long time to nurse a cup of tea for! One thing that really made me laugh as we chatted was the discovery that Kenyan school children are in the habit of setting fire to their dormitories when they want to protest about something such as poor exam results. Charles himself had done so twice. This reminded me very much of stories of my own dad setting off fireworks in the corridor at his school (not that I managed to say so, as I found the concept of fireworks a bit difficult to explain). At the end he gave me a bar of chocolate wrapped in brown paper, which was sweet, and asked if we could go on a date again.


When we got to the bar where the rest of the gang were (or at least 75% of them, as plenty were yet to return) it was lovely to hear the reports everyone had had a good time, even people who had been sent on dates with someone they didn't expect to like. It gradually became evident that some people had consumed rather a lot of alcohol on their dates, which I found extremely funny. Some couples were completely plastered!! It was lovely that they had done this in pairs, so no one had overdone it alone and people were able to fall over in good company.  This scenario was made more funny still by the fact that they'd have to slip subtly into religious households that mostly didn't allow alcohol on the premises. We've all been there!

In the field I'm still not streetwise

Yesterday we met our entrepreneurs for the first time (quick recap on why this is important: I'm in Kenya to work with a group of five and I've spent the last week in training to get me ready for this moment). I'm not going to lie, it wasn't a glorious moment, it was actually quite awkward as I tried to ingratiate myself with 5 strangers  at once none of whom spoke English as a first language, and in the certain high-pressure knowledge that a trust relationship is essential to working partnerships here.

After this session one entrepreneur invited us back to his shop. Are we happy to walk, it's a kilometer away? Of course we are! This was a great opportunity to get to know him better, overcome the language barrier through  seeing and doing and ultimately build the all-important bonds of trust that I keep being told are so important.  An hour and a half later, still following our entrepreneur across fields in the midday sunshine (sun cream in hand, reapplying anywhere that felt 'too hot') I was beginning to feel less enthusiastic.

However, when we eventually arrived we were rewarded with panoramic views of Kenyan plains, we saw the shop space he had built (a little wooden shack by the roadside), walked around his house (an old colonial mansion), met his puppies, were shown his fields, his aunt's house and the junior school he attended. On the way back he told us about his history: He went to Njoro boys school and had previously worked selling cars. Great! Were really getting somewhere.  I was tired, extremely grubby (I didn't need sun cream from the knee down, such was the covering of dust) but very pleased we'd made the journey to see his village and get to know our first entrepreneur.

The next day, my group discussed the experience. There is one Kenyan (Paul) and one English chap (Matt). This mix of cultures is absolutely  invaluable as Paul went on to demonstrate: He pointed out that there's a certain lack of evidence the house we were shown really did belong to the entrepreneur (he may have just picked the biggest house in the village and claimed it); the wooden  shack didn't look like it was freshly built and there's no proof he owns it as he didn't produce the key to it while we were there; Njoro boys school is a good school and his level of English isn't of the standard of their graduates; cars are expensive, claiming to be a car seller to impress a stranger here is a bit like meeting a guy in a UK night club pretending to be a banker, it just sounds prestigious and may not be true. Oh my God!

You can take the gullible idiot out of England but you can't change her in the slightest. I may be too wise nowadays to follow a someone home because they've offered me a bacon sandwich but I feel like I still have a lot to learn...

Woman, known your limits!

Today I had a personal development meeting with my team leader in which I was advised to remember that sometimes it's enough to know I've done my best, it's not possible to make everything good through effort alone. I was brooding on this. It's not my standard approach to life. I'm of the 'give 100% all the flipping time' cast. I was therefore feeling a bit glum, but this was perhaps because I hadn't eaten lunch and so was looking for a café for something to boost my sugar levels and give me some space in which to reflect. It started to rain. In Kenya it tends not to rain but to pour, so my standards were low and I went into the first café I saw. A man asked me what I wanted, showed me to a table and gave me a Fanta. So far so good, but he then drew up a chair and sat down next to me. Not so good. Worse still the entire population of the pub (for that's what it turned out to be) then proceeded to discuss me jovially and I suspect not kindly, in Swahili. I tried to focus on a doodle I was doing, but it was not enough of a distraction from the very uncomfortable situation I had found myself in. The room was not large, but it was full, and conversation was loud, boisterous and focused on me. After about 10mins of polite British silence, I got up, pushed past the guy and went to sit in an adjoining room, which was much larger and where there was a spare table. I had been there no longer than 30 seconds when a man came over to me and cheerfully introduced himself to me. Nice as he was, I had totally had it with unfamiliar men in this particular pub on this particular afternoon, so I told him I was well, called Clare and needed some peace and quiet please. He seemed okay with this and patiently sat diagonally opposite me in silence until such time as I might change my mind. Better still, when the next guy came over to bother me, he was told by the first guy to go away. The exchange took place in Swahili but I distinctly recognised the phrase "peace and quiet". This happened rather loudly and the whole pub assumed an air of respectful silence. It was like a church!
I doodled happily. If this was as good as it was going to get, so be it. I was aware every time I looked up that all eyes were on me, but at least the room was quiet and no one was bothering me. I got a nice picture drawn of Georgina and I doing the washing. I was just considering drawing another one of me in a scary pub when some idiot came along, shook my hand and then wouldn't let go. It was only 3 in the afternoon, there are no excuses for being this drunk! While working out how best to reclaim my hand without making a scene Ronald arrived! Ta ran ta rah!! He is one of my star entrepreneurs, had heard where I was and had offered to come meet me (I'm not clear on why, but I'm not arguing). Boy was I pleased to see him! And he was certainly surprised to see me by myself in a pub such as that. Of course the original idiot let go of my hand when he saw that I had male company. Ronald advised me on the correct price for my drink (as not knowing this was the key reason I hadn't already left - I was worried I'd be overcharged by hundreds of shillings) and after I'd acted on this advice, we left to go to football practice (we've got a balloon Kenya team and it includes entrepreneurs, especially good young ones like Ronald). I think I learnt an important lesson today about where not to drink Fanta. (Ronald understands, as a door to door beautician, escaping predatory ladies is a high priority. He's now very good at this. Unlike me)

I am lost. This time in the literal sense.

I must admit I have caused chaos this evening! It all started when I took a shortcut over the fields to home and found I was suitably disoriented and couldn't remember where my house was. I took a stab at it though. My good friend Matt walked me home to make sure I got there safely (happily calling out "hello" to everyone we passed; he's lovely and hasn't yet got over the excitement of being here). I took us to the house I thought was mine, looked through the gate's peephole to double check it was correct and saw a goat. Error.
Time for plan B. I went back to Matts house where his mum gave me juice and I 'helped' him change the fuse box and entertained the neighbour's children. Then I got my mum's number off someone else. When she heard my voice she was delighted "CRARE!!" I could hear whoops of laughter when I told her I was lost and at Elisabeth's house. Elizabeth is the name of Matt's mama and I quite wrongly assumed that my mama knew where this was. I also assumed that on hearing her little lamb was lost she'd be swiftly on her way to pick me up, as I had quite strategically stranded myself somewhere I felt quite sure was nearby. However, in her defence, my mum isn't very good at English and she had assumed that I was visiting someone called Elizabeth for supper. Meanwhile there was also bedlam over all our communication channels as everyone clocked that someone was lost. In fact maybe lots of people were lost. Where was Georgina my Kenyan counterpart for instance? The joke caught on and everyone claimed to be checking on their counterpart (no, he's not in the jacuzzi, nor in the conservatory, my gosh).
Eventually Matt's fuse box was fixed and it was totally dark. Elizabeth then offered to escort me home. She too made the assumption that I would be staying at her house for dinner so I had quite a long wait while this was ironed out but I didn't want to impose on poor Matt who had only ever intended to be gentleman enough to walk me home. As we walked Elizabeth disclosed that she also didn't know where my mum lived but would take me to the right past of town!!!!! This particularly worried me as I had taken myself to the right part of town already and come face to face with a goat. However by some miracle the next gate I peaked through I saw my own back yard and my mama with a bundle of washing and so we all went in to say hello (Mama's real daughter has been asking after Matt ever since).


Today in class we are going to be drawing maps of the area.

Setting the scene. What I'm doing and where I'm living.

I've just moved into the home that is to be mine for 2 and a half months while I'm living in Kenya. It's totally purple! Someone has clearly got an excessive quantity of purple paint and painted every room, inside and out.


My Kenyan mum is wonderful and calls me "Crare". She doesn't speak great English and every word she knows came from past balloon volunteers (no pressure!). I'd like to say that I've been helping her with cooking, but I think it's probably more accurate to say 'I've been present in the kitchen'. I hope I'll be a fine Kenyan cook soon though. There is 1 UK volunteer that couldn't even cook in England before leaving, so at least I'm not starting from scratch! My Kenyan mum believes that white people can't eat liver, kidney, or similar. I tried not very hard to correct this...she still holds the belief. Some people have told their families that they're vegetarian, but mine love the fact that I have enjoyed everything they've given me (although I am soon going to have to flag that I can't sustain the quantity I've been putting away so far!!) I don't have a Kenyan dad here yet but I believe that he will turn up in the next few days. He's currently in Uganda and will be looking to leave before the election (which may take place today?) I don't fully understand the news here as the politicians speak in English but the news reporters speak in Swahili.


My Kenyan counterpart/sister is called Georgina. We're both volunteers living in the purple house together. She has beautiful eyes and is a really cool person (I haven't told her this yet, but I will!). Before balloon she worked for the red Cross and has a degree in community development. She'd like to do a masters before setting up a fast food restaurant (even graduates struggle to get employed in formal companies here, because its not what you know, it's who you know, corruption is rife, so ambitions to set up your own business are very important). She's teaching me Swahili and I'm going to teach her French. I've also taught her some unhelpful English slang, primarily that BBW stands for beautiful black woman. Unfortunately I've since learnt that there's a second meaning - big black willy!!!! Oh no!!!!!! If she starts to use the phrase I'll have to step in!


As for the work that I'm doing, I'm helping to build the businesses of 5 entrepreneurs: Joshua (general shop owner), James (wannabe general shop owner), Ronald (mobile salonist), Jacinta (junior salonist) and Paul (carpenter). Although it sounds like there are some common themes here, every personality is quite different, and their businesses are extremely different too. I'm not alone in taking on all these challenges, I've got 2 team mates: Paul (stoic, comedic, and Kenyan) and Matt (creative, considerate and British).
I've had some basic training in financial skills and entrepreneurship, but really what I think I'm bringing to the table is creativity and a fresh perspective. The other important thing is that by working on this program, entrepreneurs have the opportunity to pitch for a 0% interest loan if they want it. Banks here would tend to charge young businesses up to 25% so this fiance is a big deal.

I hope that's given you an overview of all the key players and the context of my day to day life. Now the scene has been set, I'll try and make my future blog posts less informative and more anecdotal.

Mosquito nets or me : One of us is ridiculous

It's the first night in Kenya and I'm tucked up in bed under 1 million blankets because as everyone repeatedly tells us, this is a very cold part of Kenya. It doesn't feel it to me. I also dutifully checked between every one of those blankets for extra terrestrial spiders.

I was quite excited about the prospect of sleeping under a mosquito net. I imagined it to be like a 4 poster bed with ornings. The trouble is that there are no posts on the bed and so it is very much like lying under a net. Simply like a caught fish. The novelty has worn off and I haven't even gone to sleep yet.

Note from the first morning: I fidgeted too much in the night and pulled the net off the ceiling. This was a vast improvement. When I woke up I found I wasn't under it any more which is probably how I managed to go to sleep. It's not relaxing to be smothered in netting.

Note from the 7th morning: I eventually learnt how to use a mosquito net. When I moved from hostel to host home the set up was quite different. The net comes down from the ceiling and tucked in around the mattress, to make a cosy den for the sleeper in the middle. It is very much like a 4 poster bed after all.

Blog appology

Sorry for the long silence on my blog. I'm currently in Kenya and finding it hard to find the time/bandwidth to post anything! Please bear with me and I'll try and get some stories up soon.