I too will graduate

I can finally say that I am now writing this piece from my own space. I am engulfed among learned friends and once in a while we engage in animated debates that usually end in an impasse. Nonetheless, we all go about our business thereafter with that fleeting feeling of intellectualism. The wise prudently shake this feeling off. The rest hang on to it a little bit longer to their detriment. I try to be among the former but most times, I fail terribly. Anyway, that is not the chief import of my writing today.

I have been carrying out attachment assignments at the Academic Model Providing Access to Healthcare, otherwise commonly referred to as AMPATH. We serve clients who are living with HIV or are caretakers of orphans and/or vulnerable children living with HIV. My core business is ensuring that clients who are supported by the World Food Program through food assistance are also enrolled in Groups Integrated Savings for Empowerment (GISE). The aim of GISE is to ensure a smooth exit for clients once they are weaned off the food program. GISE’s operation is borrowed heavily from the success of Mohamed Yunus in India who used a simple savings, loans and social fund system to empower women. In my going about this noble employment, my respect for women has gone up a notch higher. I believe women are a more resilient lot than men. I also believe women are a more social creature than men. A recent appraisal of GISE performance conducted last year revealed that women constituted 80 % of membership in GISE. This essentially means that the level of women accepting their HIV status is way much higher than among men. It also means that women realize the vulnerabilities they are exposed to. Hence, they seek to have the necessary safety nets in place to protect them from such vulnerabilities. It goes without saying that by improving their income security, their food security is improved as well. 

I am privileged to hear stories of resilience right from the horse’s mouth. I am further privileged to have the women behind such inspiring stories as friends. They remind me what love is all about; looking without and finding the reason to go on in the loving eyes of another. There are two groups under my immediate care, one which I am delegated to from time to time. It is my honorable duty to see them through till graduation where they share out the proceedings from their operations. When that time comes, I too will graduate; from an observer in the sidelines to that player, passionate about completing his God-given tasks. I too will graduate.

White gold and the women who mine it

It is no secret that food security in Kenya is intimately linked with the maize crop. Introduced to Kenya by the Portuguese, maize has grown to be the most popular enterprise among farming households. Among these households, there are those who grow maize primarily for subsistence use and only engage in commercial activities during times of surplus. Then there are those who grow maize for commercial purposes. This latter group can further be divided into small scale and large scale farming households, the dividing line being the acreage of land cultivated. However, the uniting factor among these players in the maize sector is pricing. All farmers wait with baited breath for the government to set the price at which National Cereals and Produce Board (NCPB) should purchase maize from the farmers. Then the long lines in Uasin Gishu and Trans Zoia counties form. The drivers spend several nights and days in queues waiting to offload their white gold. Women make a fortune cooking and selling food to men- who in all likelihood have not had a change of clothes for two, three or even fourteen days. Then there are those scrupulous business men who offer to buy maize from Lorry drivers in cash. In turn, the drivers sell the maize to NCPB in the name of the concerned businessman. The allure of cash in hand is wrought by the fact that NCPB does not pay in cash. Usually farmers have to wait for a month or two to receive their hard-earned money. Meanwhile, their children are waiting to report to school and as the routine goes, they cannot report without school fees, in most cases, the whole sum. This just adds fuel to the farmer’s need for immediate cash. Oh, I almost forgot one other player in the maize sub sector during sale-the prostitute. She travels from afar and rents a room in town (read Eldoret, Moi’s Bridge and Kitale). In the evening she ensures that the “hard working” farmer is all smiles. In turn, she gets the chance to relieve him of his pocket’s contents. This goes on while a hungry child and a loving wife wait for the triumphant return of a supposedly caring father and a supposedly loving husband.

In spite of this doleful picture, there is a glimmer of hope. There are certain farmers who are true patriots. They are aware that the country depends on them for food sufficiency. They have also taken steps to improve their lot by seeking to adopt the latest technology in food production and in most cases, on their own account with minimal or no assistance from the government. And yes, they love their families too. So much that they have taught them the tools of the trade. The wife and the children all contribute to the household income and that farmer ensures that they are adequately rewarded. Forgive me if I come across as a male chauvinist, maize farming is a male dominated sector. Women still have little or no access to land. In the few cases where they do have access, the land is so fragmented that engaging in any meaningful agricultural business is next to impossible. It is with this background that the few women maize farmers are by all definitions, swimming upstream. They are discriminated against in accessing inputs such as seeds and subsidized fertilizers. Now do not get me wrong. This discrimination is not systemic. The government process in accessing such inputs is gender sensitive. However, it is the mind set of implementing authorities that needs an overhaul. It is about time that women are seen as able agribusiness persons that they are. It is about time that they are recognized and their opinions sought in agricultural policy making. I strongly believe that one overlooked factor in efforts by government to become food secure is Gender and Agricultural Development. It is a public secret that women constitute 80% of the workforce that contributes towards agricultural production. Yet, they access less than 20% of the proceeds from agriculture. I believe I am wrong. Please correct me if I am-they access much less than 20%, don’t they?  Could it be less than 10 %? This sad phenomenon is not limited to maize alone, is it? Recall the bonuses that tea farmers received during the hard times for the Kenyan shilling against the American dollar?  Recall the women of Limuru and other tea growing areas lamenting about the disappearing acts of their husbands after receiving those hefty perks?  Pathetic is what I can say. Absolutely pathetic! I am too angry to continue writing this article so let me end on this point-give the woman farmer a chance in the corridors of power, in the farm, in the market and the war against food insecurity would be halfway won.

Extremes

   

Suppose Charles Dickens was alive today? Suppose he was given the task of describing our times? I am in no doubt that he would use the very same words he used in opening that riveting drama that is A Tale of Two Cities.

 “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.”

    And indeed it is. We live in a world of extremes. So extreme that the BBC made a documentary series on it-one of the best, I believe that BBC has worked on in recent times. It is on the problem of hunger that these extremes play out. The recent famine that plagued the horn of Africa, its effects still felt, comes to mind. Most of us watched it’s unfolding from the comfort of our living rooms, I suppose with a plate full of food in front of us. I am guilty here. I cannot forget a frail old woman who had to be supported as she made her way to receive relief food being supplied nearby. At some point she stumbled and fell. At that very point, my heart sank and my appetite for food vanished. All I could do was keep staring at the TV. It was a blank stare.

    Do you remember Bob Collymore's speech during the Kenyan for Kenyans Initiative? There were some reports that deaths had occurred in Turkana, hunger-related deaths. The government was quick to sweep these reports under the carpet.  Forget Alfred Mutua’s, blatant denial of it. However, for heaven’s sake, do not forget what Bob told us he saw while in Turkana. He saw death, the death of dignity. That is precisely what hunger robs you off-dignity. It is the reason why a father cannot look into the eyes of his daughter. The shame wrought by the unfortunate fact that he cannot put food on the table is too big to bear. It is the reason why that street child walks with his head hung low, his gaze fixed on the dirt below lest he is tempted by the revellers in that outdoor restaurant. It is the reason why a mother absent mindedly thrusts her nipple into her child’s mouth knowing very well that she so little to give. This is reality to most. Yet there are those who cannot relate to this picture no matter how hard they try. Their lives have been one of plenty. Their every desire, especially for food, is met with the greatest of ease. They cannot imagine that a soul can sleep hungry. The world of extremes it is. It’s population seven billion. Two billion malnourished; one under nourished, the other over nourished; One struggling with gaining weight, the other struggling with losing it; One throwing food in the dumpster, the other receiving it; One imposing taxes on high trans-fat foods, the other craving for it; one proposing giving extra grades for school children with normal BMI, the other struggling to keep children in school; one world having overweight air passengers pay extra, the other gazing at flying planes overhead with open mouths and empty stomachs.  Ah! A pathetic extreme world it is.

     The year 2011 has come to be known as the year of revolution. It is right to say that democracy was a driving force. However, the real reason is the animosity caused by the chasm between haves and the haves-not. When a man is pushed to the wall, he is capable of anything. And neither a high perimeter wall fence nor a state of the art security system can save you from his wrath. If hunger is thrown into the fatal mix, then this man becomes a most lethal weapon. It is our duty to ensure that men of pure souls are not driven to such extremities.  We do that by raising our voices against that age-old monster called hunger and even when it seems that it is winning, we do not yield. Instead, we raise our voices higher, on TV, on radio, in print, on the web, in our neighbourhoods, in our barazas, in our homes, and most importantly, on our knees. Then and only then, can this merciless monster be slain.