Thursday, 28 November 2013

The Company

Mwatate town lives its life in the shadow of two dominant features, one natural and one less natural. To the northwest, north of the road leading to Tanzania, there’s Bura Bluff, a high and vertical cliff towering above the plain. To the southeast, south of the road leading to Voi, there’s a vast, synthetic looking green mat pierced by a small hill: The Teita Sisal Estate.

I wouldn’t call it just a commercial plantation, already in itself a term with a very dark ring to it in an African context. It seems to be the prototype of a malicious commercial plantation, the ultimate 'rip-off industry'.
The Teita Sisal Estate (the misspelling in is apparently a conscious one) is said to be the largest of its kind in the world. Basically it’s a world of its own. Its huge area (More than 30 000 acres, still grabbing) contains its own homes, schools, shops, health facilities etc. It’s like an independent city in the middle of the dry countryside. Rumors state that there are people who have not left the compounds of the estate once in their lifetime. Everything is closed to outsiders, naturally.

And everything is of course owned by foreigners from the more developed world, in this case two Greek brothers named Kostas and Philip Kyriazi. Does it sound familiar? Entering through the gates is like driving a century back in time. It is all in all such a delightful relic of colonial times that it would be funny, were it not actually a very serious part of so many peoples’ lives.

By chance I happened to do an interview for Ms. G with a man in Mwatate who had just retired from the estate, so the discussion quite naturally took that road. It seems to me like it not only sounds colonial but actually is. I cannot comment on the level of income of the workers, but ignoring that, people have forever been contracted and let off with little regulation or logic or contracted as occasional labor so as to minimize costs related to fixed employment. The water and waste management has drawn some not very positive attention to it with relation to the fragile environment. The Sisal is planted, harvested and to some extent processed by the plantation within the plantation with minimal connection to the surrounding community. As the staff of the estate do not even shop in Mwatate, it is easy for people outside the plantation to claim that it brings no benefits whatsoever to the town, contrary to what I’m sure the company would give as a motivation for their existence.

Yes, they probably on paper pay proper taxes, property rights, community support etc. to the central government, but then it is not for nothing the Kiswahili word for government, sirikali, also translates to 'a big secret'.

Mwatate and the Teita Sisal Estate
So people do what they always do because there are few options. The other day, an unusually large group of workers were let off. Riots ensued. Some tractors were burned, lots of walkie-talkies and other equipment destroyed along with stretches of road (some not belonging to the estate) until the authorities reacted and a compromise was found. I don’t know what the compromise is, but does it really matter?

This is what is meant by the term ‘extractive industry’, right?

Tuesday, 26 November 2013

Ms. G – Philia vs. Phobia

While bearing the risk of at the least repeating myself and at the worst of clinging onto a disturbing subject and coming out as a disturbed guy, I want to discuss the concepts of faecophilic and faecophobic cultures in some more detail, if only to have it in writing for myself. So in short, this post is more about me myself trying to clarify and get my head around some concepts more than telling about my stay here, but bear with me! Or actually, don’t if you don’t want to and go enjoy the weather! Writing things down sometimes does help. One more thing: no promises, but there might be more of this stuff…

Why publish it then? At least because at one point I will have to present it all in a format that not only can be published but might with some fantasy pass for academic writing, and it is good exercise to write under the threat that someone might read this. And then there’s the best argument of all: Why not?


So, a general division of the world’s cultures into two groups with regard to their attitude towards human excreta can be proposed. In this very simplifying but as a concept or a tool for thinking useful continuum two opposite groups are introduced: the faecophilics and the faecophobics.

On the one hand, faecophilic cultures are presented as ones that do not have any serious cultural obstacles (such as values and norms) on handling human waste. These are common namely in the densely populated agricultural areas of East and Southeast Asia, for instance in China and Vietnam. Where productive agricultural land has for a long time been a relatively scarce resource because of the dense population, people have not been able to move between farming areas and have through generations been forced to stay in contact with their own waste and create systems of managing human waste along with all other garbage right there, on site. With time, the function of human excreta as a nutritious fertilizer has been recognized and it has become to be seen as a resource instead of something that should be gotten rid of. Faecophilics believe in simply burying their excreta and in the soil as a tool in treating the waste. They also consider reuse of excreta to be a part of the natural cycle of nutrients.

On the other hand, faecophobic cultures are ones in which the only thing seen as appropriate in these issues is to avoid all contact with human waste. Such attitudes have often been developed in areas where competition for land has not been as intensive and shifting your farm from one place to another or semi-nomadic lifestyles have been possible or even the best option. The mobile lifestyle has facilitated a system of waste disposal where human excreta and other waste is simply left behind as human activity moves to another location. The traditional lifestyle meant that there was no pressing need to recycle wastes and nature carried the responsibility of waste treatment. Faecophobic cultures have been found to be dominant in Sub-Saharan Africa, among some other regions, which can set some obstacles on the introduction of ecological sanitation systems. Faecophobics react more to the idea of contamination (that’s disgust) than the actual risk of contamination, which has been argued to be only partly rational. They also react mostly to the appearance of excreta, as studies show that treated excreta does not create the same reactions.

Of course, as with everything in culture, religion plays a role in both cases. Whereas I've understood that there is next to no mention of excreta or the reuse of it in the bible, it is in Hinduism and Islam seen as simply dirty stuff, no exceptions allowed. In the opposite corner we find the Buddhists, whose general belief in reincarnation directly promotes the reuse of everything.

Of course, as can be stated for most theoretical choices between ‘this or that’, most people and cultures of the world take a position somewhere along the phobic-philic-continuum, not at either of the extremes. Moreover, that stance is not necessarily fixed and can probably be altered. For instance, it can be said the western faecophobic cultures (that’s us), have developed their overtly negative attitude towards poo and pee only as technological development has facilitated our flush-and-forget or toilets (Out of sight, out of mind...) and created a certain alienation from nature. As excreta have been moved away from our everyday lives by new, convenient and efficient technology, it has become seen as something hidden, disgusting and dangerous. Technology has altered people’s attitudes instead of the other way around.

Can I conclude from this that communities with basically faecophobic approaches to sanitation can, through education, awareness-raising and provision of the right technology, be encouraged to take a more faecophilic attitude, thereby facilitating the introduction of more ecological and more sustainable sanitation solutions? I believe I can.

And of course the obvious big question goes: Which ones are the sick ones? The poll is still there on the right side, answer if you dare!

Sunday, 24 November 2013

Wheels of History

Every healthy nation should have a sport that has the power to stop everything else going on. Ice hockey,
football, rugby, whatever… Something that generates interest in nearly everyone, if maybe only occasionally, and still isn't all that serious, not really a question of life and death.

A big boss joined us for a day on the course I happened to be sort of an instructor on. One day around lunchtime, he got up and announced in the deep voice of authority that it’s time for a brake and directed us all out. We all took position along the road outside the station, in an atmosphere of eager anticipation. Lots of other people had made the same move. It was rally time!

Motorsports probably isn't the first thing that comes to most people’s mind when talking of Kenyan sports. On international arenas, it sometimes seems that Kenyans do one and only one sport: running. Of course, Finns would know that there’s a tradition of rally in Kenya, if only in organizing the legendary Safari Rally (a part of the World Rally Championship from 1973 until 2002. Few notice that the Safari Rally is still alive and well, both as a part of the African Rally Championship and, while a bit stuck in history, as the East Africa Safari Classic, where only cars of built before 1979 (K-35, that is) can participate. I happened to be witnessing the latter case.
First impression

And now the show was here! After a time spent standing in the roasting sun in anticipation and ignorance an unmistakable sound emerged from uphill. Soon you could hear the crowd in the bend just above us cheering right before a yellow Porsche 911 appeared in a cloud of dust and zoomed past us. Rocks went flying, no-one was standing at a safe distance and everyone was more or less hit, but most significantly no-one cared. Blinded and deafened, we went back to waiting for the next mean machine to pass. Then we repeated that pattern about 60 times. No one was going to return from this lunch-brake.

Wake-up, sunshine
The following morning I woke up around dawn to the sweet sound of an untamed racing engine in my room, or so it appeared. After rushing out not knowing whether to be panicked or excited, I quickly deduced that the rally was back, this time starting for a stage basically off the yard of the research station. More surprising than the early hour was that the whole town was already out, ladies, babies and gentlemen alike. The experience was made all the more surreal by the fact that there were basically no security measures taken. Anyone could, and did, walk up to the starting line for some close-up photography, some tire-kicking and hand-shaking with the heroes themselves. It was as if the whole thing was some informal and ex-tempore street race. Still everything went along in perfect order with no incidents of any kind, each car roaring off into the dark-green, misty forest of the morning hours in its turn and on time while no-one made at all uncomfortable by the large, interested crowd.

I wouldn't like to be the killjoy that finds something negative even with this great, universally entertaining event, but it was impossible not to notice how all participants as well as organizers, whatever nationality they were representing, were of a very pale color. It is not the cheapest of hobbies, and so, sadly, it seems even in to be Kenya very much a white man’s sport when it comes participating as anything else than a bystander…

Anyway, there was no question of the greatest local legend. Ian Duncan, winner of the Safari rally in 1994 when it was part of the WRC, is still competing at the age of 52. Also I was proud to notice that other names I could pick up from discussions in the audience included Vatanen, Kankkunen, Mäkinen and Grönholm in addition to Burns and the rest! No Finnish participants this time around though.

Friday, 22 November 2013


Sometimes life swiftly pushes you on to new challenges while you’you've only beginning to get bored with whatever routine you’re in.

The change might be a welcomed and long-awaited one, like a Master’s student of the University of Nairobi getting a scholarship to immediately go and finish his studies in Europe. Or it might be more of a surprise task you’re able and available but not prepared to do.

Now, this is a research station of the University of Helsinki in Kenya. The foreign ministry of Finland is naturally interested in using that station as a tool also for development cooperation in addition to research, Kenya being one of the long-term partnering countries of Finnish development cooperation. The Kenyan government has for many reasons great interest in the management of forest resources and Finns, if anyone, have expertise in this with the Uni. of Helsinki in particular having expertise in using GPS-receivers, satellite images, computer software and what not (all in all called Geographical Information Systems or GIS) within the management of forests.

So let the GIS people of the University of Helsinki do some training of the forest people of the Kenyan government! The former one takes the form of a PhD student from Helsinki and the latter one the form of a group of personnel from the Kenya Forest Service (KFS). A course is organized, with the practical fieldwork taking place where else but in the Taita Hills and based in the research station.

Only that the guy from Uni. of Nairobi, a Master’s Student, who was supposed to be an instructor on the course, has received a scholarship and skittered off the Europe to finish his degree. But hey, there’s this guy hanging around Taita Hills who has done some GIS during his studies, he will have to do! Now these poor participants will have to do with me as a struggling assisting instructor; a teacher of some kind. It’s not like I could have refusez after having had so much support for being here in the first place. And yes, there are other benefits in it for me.

The fieldwork
And so I find myself leading (That’s really not the right word… Herding? Following? Participating?) a group of six ‘students’ and a taxonomist (A guy I otherwise call a friend and research assistant) on fieldwork in someone’s maize field, looking for and identifying different tree species indigenous to the Taita Hills. Someone might be able to picture me there and especially my overflowing confidence in doing this.

The work
After hiking to, finding, identifying and marking down coordinates of indigenous trees around, we’re in for three long and intense days staring at the screen. They ask: What can we actually do with what we know and what we’ve gathered on the field, and how? And so we enter the dark world of computer software.

Even with ten participants and two instructors, it’s proper job helping out people who are not very familiar with the software, using programs that don’t always work as they should (my subjective view), given a certain degree of a language barrier.

Still, after this week these guys and gals should be able to do their work in protecting Kenya’s forests more effectively by using an extra eye up in the sky (satellite images), their own  eyes and knowledge with appropriate (Free for downloading!) software. Are they? At least I am now: If you need to learn how to really use a program, try teaching it to someone else!

The class
It’s been great not only to actually see how a western research station in practice tries to have an impact on lives in its developing country setting but also to be a part of it, if only a small one. If any research needs to put an overemphasis on its positive results for communities, it’s that done by ‘good’ western research institutions in the ‘third world’.

Thursday, 14 November 2013


I've said already it gets dry here. Roads crack, fields turn brown and even baboons start appearing on ever higher ground each day, escaping the even more severe drought down in the lowlands.

The other day I Mwakitau, a good way on the lowlands towards to border of Tanzania, we stopped for a soda when on our way to the market in Taveta for shopping (you can guess if that was my idea or not: it’s more than a three-hour drive there). An old lady sat down next to me in the shade and started conversing in a low voice and in a language I only understand a few words of. But I think I asked her about the weather and whether or not there had been any rain around. It goes without saying that I didn't understand the answer, but the length and tone of it said more than a thousand understood words.

The cliche of water being the very essence of life and death takes a whole new weight for a guy from a place like where I am from in a place like this. Drought, flooding and all other problems related with H₂O are for a University student in Helsinki little more than theoretical issues and headlines in the pages on foreign news in the newspaper, however concerned each and every one might be on a personal level.

Even at the station, which is way better equipped in these matters than most buildings in Wundanyi, we ran out of water just at the end of October. For me, that only added to the exotics of being away (bottled drinking water can always be bought, although at a high price for local standards, from the market) and gave an excuse to not bother taking showers every day, but it tells volumes of how badly off many other households around here are. No rain means no water means not only lack of hygiene and drink but also future lack of food. It was put with shocking calm to me: ‘One year from now, you can expect famines around here’.

It wasn't always this bad. There used to be big dams both in Wundanyi and Mwatate, courtesy of the colonial government, providing water for many purposes throughout the year. Then something happened. Independence came, and people understandably wanted to get rid of features representing or reminding of the colonial times, however useful they were. Children drowned in the dams. So they were emptied and converted to farmland and very productive farmland indeed. Only that now, once things get dry, the dams are not there to provided water anymore. No more buffer for hard times. Rational behavior at first glance? Yes. Understandable feelings and solutions based on them? Yes. Long-term planning?

There it comes
And then the rains came properly one Wednesday, when I was again left “alone” as the only guest on the station. Now they come not with occasional sound of thunder, but with a constant rumbling for tens of minutes. They come with plenty of warning (the sound, the sudden darkness, the hot wind, the smell) just minutes ahead of the first drops, and they come hard.

Brown turns to green, dust turns to mud. Roads get slippery, shoes and socks get ruined and off this author goes, skipping through higher terrain to find cheap boots at the market. One shower surprised on me on a run, and I’m not exaggerating too much when I say I really had to work hard to climb up the slopes from a valley in which I didn't want to be at the moment.

In addition, they come with blackouts to add some effect to the feeling, which is annoying since I do have some office-work to do and no, I don’t have one of those fancy laptops that work even when not plugged in.
What I don’t get, is that the next morning everything is as if there had been no rain. You still hear people complaining about the lack of rain. The puddles of mud don’t stick around for days, as they would back home. The clouds, the moisture and all other signs of rain disappear just as quickly as they appeared, and dust is back. Thirsty land?

Not thirsty enough, it appears, since ironically the rains are, when they come, even too hard. Instead of irrigation for shambas, you get floods, erosion and further impoverished soils. Nature has a really cruel and twisted sense of humor around here!

Sunday, 10 November 2013


I’m on the countryside here, which I’m not used to being in for longer periods. Time get’s a bit slow at points.

Today is Sunday, and religion is a big thing here, even though it’s not as blatantly expressed as for instance in West Africa. I don’t see posters advertising for foreign celebrity preachers visiting here (maybe because I'm on the countryside?) and I’m not asked for my home church or to go to church every week, but still: you can hear it, see it and feel it.

The town is empty and quiet, everything is closed. The usually crowded and, considering the size of the town, remarkably noisy Matatu station is now almost like in a ghost town, there’s just a few of us wondering what all the few others are even doing there. On top if it all it’s as hot and pressing as it can get here during the sunny days in the rainy season, which is hot. So I keep expecting young Clint Eastwood to appear from around the corner with something between his teeth. One more experience for me...

The Wild West illusion lasts as long as you manage to keep your ears shut. Sunday is the day of church, but that also means that it is the day of music. It’s not all good gospels, as one might think or hope, but it is music in all its forms, loud and clear, coming for at least two different, more or less hidden sources in each concentration of dwellings. Taking a long walk along empty roads through empty villages but still hearing music all the time has to be one kind of a simulation of the more disturbed form of hearing noises.

I haven’t visited any of the churches here, because I don’t think they are considered to be as much tourist attractions here as in Europe, and I’m afraid I would feel a lot out of place. Maybe one of these lonely Sundays… There’s a limit as to how much I can walk around, run around, cycle around, or drive around. Or read, write or watch movies and series.

Did I mention already that it’s really hot?

But now I’m of course exaggerating. In the afternoons, bars will open and it seems that the limited population of Wundanyi moves from the surprisingly many religious establishments to the surprisingly many places showing the English Premier League. That’s where you get to be bored without having to complain about it. No thinking about what to do, just watching! That's my kind of Sunday activity, so I join them.

During the weekdays, the human world of sounds is, surprisingly and against all odds, dominated by Islam. That’s what you hear when you wake up and when you go to bed: the muezzin. There’s a mosque, apparently with Metallica-class loudspeakers, on a nearby hill, and they're building a new one next to the prison, whatever the symbology of that is supposed to be. New, well built mosques and the right to daily (many times a day, actually) call to prayers that is forbidden in most of Europe, only for a handful of people in a very Christian community, in a country where religious tensions have been in the minds of everybody maybe more than anywhere else in the world (Think Westgate, to begin with). Why? The explanation I've got, being probably a parted one, is that the Muslim community here is really good at playing the general concern of repression for their benefit. All claims for more mosques to be built or any other rights are backed by claims of repression based on religion, and that is actually taken seriously here. This might of course be a consequence of a near history and a perceived threat of outright religious violence in the country. Or it might be the workings of foreign funders, wanting to spreads Islam. One friend calls them crusaders... Or could this just be a form of surprising tolerance?

Just to point out, the Muslims I have actually met have not been different from their neighbors in any way, their faith has only been found out by asking.

Wednesday, 6 November 2013

Ms. G – Talkin’ to People

October turned to November and I’ve probably given out the impression that I haven’t been doing a lot of useful stuff here. Well, actually I have.


Target a household/business premise, invite yourself in, ask for permission to interview, ask for permission to record, ask your questions, note down coordinates (where you really are), maybe have a short chat, present your gratefulness, leave, target another household/business premise. Repeat 3-7 times. That’s how my usual day has looked like so far. It’s been fun.

There’s been lots of giggling because of silly questions, lots of awkward silence because of weird question, plenty of misunderstandings. But zero hostility, even though I was expecting some, asking questions under a pretty sensitive theme.

The easiest interviews are with the ones who speak either good English or no English. In the former case it feels like a normal discussion, in the latter one I get to off easy by just presenting the original questions as they appear on paper and let my friend do the explaining. Most problems are encountered when people bravely try to make it through with less than perfect English skills, forcing me to ask each question differently many times. I’m sure this is what I’ve been asking for by not preparing my questions well enough (Can it ever be done well enough?), and it’s good training also for me, but still… You might be tired, it’s really hot… You get the picture.

I think I’ve done quite enough of interviews because not many new answers come up anymore, so here’s a short, gut-feeling, mini-analysis of the answers:
  • Everyone interviewed actually has a toilet, something that is not self-evident in the region. Some people do claim however that not everyone in the community have toilets.
  • Almost all toilets are pit latrines, which is a ‘dump, cover and forget’- solution. You dig a pit and when it’s full you cover it and gig another one. It serves well for keeping the surrounding clean and preventing the spread of diseases, which is why it is being advocated by for instance the health authorities, Plan International and World Vision. But it also leaves all the nutrients unused and unavailable as well as makes possible the contamination of ground water. And at one point people just have to run out of land to dig pits in, right?
  • Farming as the only occupation in a household is very common. Nearly everyone farms something, although it is an unpredictable practice due to weather patterns, in order to not be dependent on a single income and being vulnerable to changes in life.
  • No-one around uses human waste to improve the soil conditions on farms, although organic wastes and animal manure are widely used. Using industrial fertilizers is not very widespread because it is too expensive.
  • The waste that is not used as manure is burned since a collection system does not exist except for some scrap buyers around the towns.
  • Not many people oppose the idea as such of using human excreta to improve soil conditions. It is not used, according to the interviews, simply because of a lack of skills and technology to do so.

The last one is crucial significant, as sub-Saharan Africans are in literature generally considered to be against all contact with human excreta (the term is faecophobic) as opposed to for instance to Asians (who would then be faecophilics, which sounds a lot more perverse than it really is). What needs to considered here is of course that answering ‘yes, I could consider that’ is easy whereas it doesn’t really tell you that people would actually be using piss and poo on their farms. Would people eat/buy the products? Would restaurants serve them?

And here are some of my favourite answers, freely (!?) translated:

‘Yeah, I don’t think my family sh*its enough for it to be of any use to us...’

‘Well, I have to be happy with my toilet because I built it and I clean it!’

‘I want a flush toilet. Flush! FLUSH!’ [yelling at the recorder] Later Mwadime confirmed my suspicion that this man had had some happy-liquid.

‘We have no sources of income’, when the smell in the house and the respondents condition made clear that he was actually running a not very small factory of that happy-liquid.

And the one I’ve been expecting to come along way more often: “You can have people do whatever you want with their sh*t, as long as you stay away from my shamba (garden/farm) with it!”

Next, I’m going to be moving on to the maybe harder and more interesting part of the field work: Finding out, getting a grip of and talking to people that might be thought to know something about these things in the bigger picture. Expert interviews I will call them. I’ll start easy and consider anyone working in government, waste management, agriculture, forestry or NGOs an expert.

And just because I found a fun new tool: There’s a poll to the right: Do you consider yourself faecophobic or faecophilic? Please think about it, answer and even motivate or comment if you like. I’m yet to answer it myself.

Sunday, 3 November 2013

Ms. G – Why Talk to People

October turned to November and I've probably given out the impression that I haven’t been doing a lot of useful stuff here. Well, actually I have.


How you get information about stuff is a big number in higher education. That’s what methodology courses are all about. The most complicated and detailed methods might serve their purpose in many empirical, “The Big Bang Theory”-science, but as for the rest of us, to most questions we have someone somewhere already has the answer to.

At least that’s the thought I’ve been following with Ms. G.

Development geography and development studies in general always (should) strive to solving problems, either by simply identifying and explaining them or coming up with solutions. As was maybe to some extent explained earlier, I’m working under the second heading. Now, I believe (on the basis of a not insignificant amount of hours of reading) with most other people that emphasis in coming up with these solutions should be put on the views, experiences and preferences of the final users of the solutions.
It often surprises me, and maybe many others, how many times past development aid has failed or even done some more damage only because the right people apparently were not asked the right questions or were not listened to carefully enough. A classic example (that first came to my notice through Dambisa Moyo) is when bed nets (protecting from mosquitoes and therefore malaria) were imported from the west to a tropical country without realizing that there is an enterprise already working on this at the location. Yes, protection from malaria was probably improved and less people fell sick in the short run. But lots of people were put out of work in the bed net business, pushing them into poverty. A would-be industry was destroyed by taking away its markets. And people were made more dependent on aid instead of local production. Plenty of money is lost in the ‘business’ of aid on completely wrong ways of doing things, leading to huge inefficiency and corruption (that last one just some guesswork of mine). These things could be avoided by, yet again, asking [the right people what they think] before doing.

My thing here is no exception. If anything, the toilet business is a field where the preferences of users is most important in making sure that someone is actually going to use any solutions you come up with! Just consider yourself (at least those back in the north) being introduced to a very new way of handling your products, for instance changing from sitting to squatting and from flushing to shoveling.

This is why I start by simply ask people, however differently I might formulate it in the final thesis.

But of course it’s not that simple. A frustrating amount of time goes to deciding what questions to ask, how to formulate them and in which order to ask them so that you won’t be leading the guy/gal to answer the questions he/she might think you want to hear. Or so that the interviewee won’t get the impression that you are ready to offer those solutions or any other tangible benefits here and now, which is a problem especially when talking about human development within a generally poor population. Everyone needs or wants something (a tree seedling, cash to pay for school fees, or your camera), and however well you try to appear informal (dressing very casually, using simple terms for things, which is especially fun under my theme), you are seen, in my case somewhat incorrectly, as a powerful man with connections and as a potential resource for the people.

Being the lazy b*astard I am, I didn't learn any Swahili before coming here (not that even all locals speak it very well…), so my lack of skills forces me to use an interpreter/assistant/friend in my work. This comes with many issues to consider, which anyone can imagine or look up themselves, but in short: Who is really conducting the interview when (this is a real, if single, example) you’re question is a short sentence, the translation of the question is short, the original answer takes a couple of minutes and the translated answer is a simple, pithy: ‘No.’? This is usually signed for, most of the time probably correctly, with the fact that people sometimes just like to ramble along more than a bit outside the theme.

This also comes along with ethical issues that I don’t have the energy to consider in this text, maybe later… Another story for another day is also the questions they come up with.