Kenyans
seem to be very fond of big time events and ceremonies. Lately, I’ve witnessed
two.
Despite of
its remarkable natural beauty, the Taita Hills are not that well known to the
outside world. Given the state of the roads here, I’d put that down to a
question of accessibility, but the local decision makers are not giving up that
easily. It’s a question of fame, they say! So what you do is you organize a big
thing, in lack of a better word to describe it with. You contract some local
pop starlets to perform, and most importantly you pay to have the top three
football teams in the country play games on the central stadium (a description
that is more than slightly exaggerated from the European point of view), the
fourth team attending being a collection of local heroes called Taita Combined
(Note: They did not call it Taita
United).
And so the
whole community gathers on this patch of grass with a goal in both ends. As is
the custom here, no numbers are given or estimated, but I would say the
attendance easily reaches five digit numbers. And of course there’s no chance
of a cloudy day, not to mention a shady spot to sit down on. In the first game
Taita Combined meets the reigning Kenyan champions, Gor Mahia. It’s
a slaughter, but what I remember from the game is the celebration that ensued
as Taita managed to score that one precious goal, despite already being 0-4
down. On a stadium where the line between the field and ‘the stands’ is very
fluid and with one policeman around keeping order, it was no surprise that the
field was in a blink of an eye flooded with cheering Taitas, hugging everything
in red, singing songs, blowing vuvuzelas and dancing. After quite some time,
when I was about to make the decision to leave, the game continued and Goliath
scored a few more goals. No one cared. In the following game, the big national
favorites, the Leopards, took a beating that was on par with that seen in the
first match.
What I
found a bit worrying was that some of the spectators had clearly carried from
home rocks instead of snacks. I’ve heard of throwing items on the pitch in
fanatic football cultures, but this seemed a bit too much… In the end, they
were not used on the players but on fellow supporters! I was apparently in a
section exclusively for sitting down. Get up, get hit! Some did, with painful
consequences.
Big Man comes |
But that
wasn’t all. On half-time of the second match, the unmistakable sound of
helicopter wings could be heard. A big boss had decided to make an appearance,
and landed flat in the middle of the football field, sending players, officials
and fans scattering to all directions. Speeches were held in Swahili, there
were standing ovations, but still to this day I don’t know who the big boss
was. Some say it was the local governor (in Kiswahili called, imaginatively, gavana), some say it was the deputy
president William Ruto himself, supposed to be in The Hague for all I know…
Anyway,
after hours in the sun, we all staggered home roasted and exhausted. I pity
those who live out of walking distance: there was enough public transport for
about one percent of the people. There was something about the rawness and
stripped down execution of the event that made the experience so much more
intense than something similar back home. No order, no services, only the core
of the happening itself. (The same, by the way, goes for the East Africa Safari Classic, which surprisingly returned to Taita seven days after
leaving town.)
---
The chaotic
view left by such an event on a communal gathering place with little waste
management is beyond description. This is where the second event comes in.
After a week of beholding the field of polythene bags, beer cans and other
trash that once was the football stadium, a pride of the community, someone
decided to do something. An NGO called the Taita Environment Initiative (TEI) took
the initiative to pick up the trash, if only slightly late, mobilizing other
community based groups and ending up with about one hundred people (farmers,
students, scouts…) cleaning up the mess.
During an
interview with the fine people at TEI, I was naturally invited with one day’s
notice. Me being a mzungu running around town asking questions on, among other
things, waste management and the collection system, I shouldn’t have been that surprised.
So I went there, sat on stage for the opening ceremonies (as what some have in
other contexts called the ‘token white man’) and gathered garbage for an hour.
For some minutes during that morning, I felt like a celebrity: Nothing tells more about the sick twists of
history and global relations than noticing that a few Kenyans are filming a
white man picking up trash in a public space. Anyway, good deed of the year
done!
I don’t
want to take anything away from an awareness-raising event such as this. Of
course, it is a good step towards making a community cleaner, but what is
easily forgotten is that it is just plain wrong that waste collection is
allowed to become a special event in the communal routine, instead of the
continuous activity it should be. If someone (What about the organizers of the
first event?) would take their responsibility, such ‘cleaning days’ would not
and should not be needed. And still, the centering of trash to piles only goes
so far if no containers are provided. Piles can of course be collected by
truck, but it’s hardly a sustainable solution, given everything from rain and
wind to animals in spreading that garbage again. And of course, this cleaning
day only concentrated on collecting the waste and transporting it to big
dumpsites, but there were not many mentions on the final disposal of the waste.
I assume it is still burned. Wouldn’t this have been a wonderful opportunity to
talk also about recycling?
No comments:
Post a Comment