You know what the main problem is with working in a relatively peaceful, secure part of the developing world with no imminent crises or world-gripping, tear-jerking storylines?
Did you say "not enough celebrity sightings"? Because I'm sure disappointed with the lack of celebrity sightings. How are we supposed to fight poverty without celebrities? Sudan gets George Clooney, the Congo gets Ben Affleck, everywhere else and their mother gets Brangelina...who is left to shower western Kenya with their American celebrity fairy dust?
Thankfully, around here, celebrities are homegrown, not imported. And the grandmother of all celebrities in Kenya is, in fact, a grandmother. Her name is Sarah Obama. You may have heard of her son, Barack Obama Sr. Apparently she also has a grandson who is doing rather well for himself.
This past weekend, the Country Director for IPA-Kenya and his family decided to seek out this local star, who happens to live in the middle of Luo-land about 2 hours from Busia (Luo being one of the two dominant ethnicities in western Kenya, and the tribe that claims the current US President as one of their own brothers. Luos are among the poorest ethnicities in Kenya, with the highest disease rates and generally poor performance on a number of other basic poverty indicators. Luo is also a phenomenally difficult language to master, to the point where I have given up learning anything beyond "Thank you" (Erokomano) and "How is your afternoon?" (Idhi nade?)and "Uh, I don't know" (Okang'eyo). Luos are a generous bunch, though, so these phrases are usually enough to convince your average Ochieng on the street that I am versed in the "language of Obama". Most Luos have a Christian name and two tribal names, which could be inherited but more often describe the circumstances of their birth--whether it was in the morning or the evening, dry season or rainy season, near home or far away, etc. My own honorary Luo name, Jyaloka [a few creative liberties taken on the spelling there], generously bestowed by the IPA accounting office, means "born across the lake"--in Luo, "lake" always refers to Lake Victoria, but since it also represents the biggest body of water in the Luo language, the Atlantic Ocean also becomes "lake" when you put it into Luo.) Anyway, short story made way too long, I tagged along for the visit.
I'm not entirely sure how this never came up before on this blog, but just for the record: Kenyans are more than a little bit in love with Barack Obama. This is not some puppy dog crush. This is dancing in the streets when the US election results were made official in 2008. This is asking every American they meet, right after the obligatory "How are you? Fine fine fine!", about how Obama is doing that day. This is following Obama's approval ratings religiously and asking me about his chances for re-election whenever a new article appears about him in the Daily Nation, which is at least twice a week. This is genuine worry that America might turn its back on its first president with African ties, and in doing so, turn its back on Africa itself. Obama's name is on schools, shops, hotels, calendars, shirts, and, of course, beer. More on that later.
Obama's last trip to the region came back in 2006, while he was still a United States Senator. While here, he spent a good deal of time in Siaya, where my project does most of its work, and he donated the money for the secondary school pictured above. He did not, to my knowledge, donate the money to start brewing Senator beer, which made its debut shortly after this visit (if you walk into a bar in Kenya and ask for a Senator, though, you won't get one these days. In 2008, the beer's name was officially changed to President.)
For those who have not yet read any of our president's accounts of his time in Africa or of his father's journey from rural Africa to an education in the States, let me take this chance to highly recommend them, particularly "Dreams from my Father."
As it turns out, Mama Sarah herself is no slouch when it comes to community leadership and organization. As a matter of fact, she's pretty incredible. At 88 years young, she still runs an orphanage, a tsetse fly eradication program, and a collective on new farming methods in her area. Apropos of something, I'm sure, she seems very charismatic and strong-willed--I had been afraid that this visit was going to be the sort of thing where the Americans come in and gawk at the Kenyan living out in the bush who happens to have a famous relative, but it was clear from the moment we entered the compound that someone was in charge of the whole situation and it wasn't us. We got to ask her questions about her life, her family, and her faith (for the record, she is a devout Muslim, which is remarkable in an area of Kenya where the vast majority are Christians and the Muslim population is mainly Somali, but come on, Glenn Beck: even she knows her grandson isn't actually a Muslim, and thinks it's ridiculous that so many Americans consider that such an important question. I agree.) We heard Barack Sr.'s story, some more about Barack Jr.'s visit in 2006, and asked her if she ever talks to him these days (answer: yes, but she's sad because "it seems nowadays he is so busy, he only calls once a month." Combined number of times I have called my two grandmothers in the last two months: one, maybe? Well played, Mr. President, the bar has been raised. But come on, I'm basically as busy as he is, I'm sure.)
On the way out, I snuck this shot of two graves. The father and grandfather of the leader of the free world, buried without fanfare in rural Africa. It blows my mind, but it makes me feel good about where we've come as a nation. And it gives Kenyans a reason to dream, too, and that's always worthwhile.
