Adventures in Kakuma Refugee Camp

"Women's rights are human rights" -
DAMMMN STRAIGHT!

Just got back from an adventure-packed stroll through Kakuma I Refugee Camp with my new friend/colleague, Sarah. Like seemingly all refugee camps, Kakuma 1 is divided according to nationality and then subdivided according to ethnicity. There is the “Ethiopian Section” of Kakuma 1 Refugee Camp, for instance, and within that section there is the “Oromo sub-section,” among others. In Africa, so many of our refugees have fled persecution based on their ethnicity. It is common to hear refugees speak of having been attacked, robbed, threatened, raped, and/or had family members maimed or murdered simply because of their ethnic identity.What is even more surprising to the new comer however, is that often times, fleeing to a supposedly "safe" country of asylum like Kenya is not the end of their experiences of persecution. I've heard countless complaints from refugees living in camps like Dadaab and Kakuma that refugees continue to be attacked based on their ethnicity (as well as their religion, their outward appearance, their gender, their familial background, etc). Somalis from minority tribes like the Midgan, for instance, often have a horrible time in the camps because the Somali majority tribes give them such a rough time. Of course there is security in the camp, but with camps like Dadaab overflowing with  five  times  plus their population capacity, available security is spread thin, if non-existent, to say the least. 

Adorable Ethiopian refugee who agreed free-of-charge
 to be  the start of my photo. Thanks, buddy!
Am thinking I'll find a  way to get a hard copy
 to him via the next team that visits Kakuma. :)

Needless to say, because of the above mentioned security issues in their country of asylum, camp refugees usually divide themselves up according to tribe/ethnicity, what have you. The UN assists with this, but the refugees divide themselves voluntarily as well.When refugees arrive in their country of asylum, the last thing they want to do is live among people from the ethnic group that persecuted against them back home. Fortunately many refugees whom I have spoken with are able to recognize that all members of a given ethnic group are not automatically evil and out-to-get-them.Regardless, as is common anywhere, refugees often feel most comfortable when they are around people of “their own kind,” whether that be in terms of ethnicity, religion, nationality or language.

Njera - Ethiopian staple

Anyway, I digress…our trip to Kakuma I was lovely though a bit overwhelming in my opinion. We had lunch at a Ethiopian restaurant called Franco’s. Franco is an Ethiopian refugee who prepares the best Ethiopian food I've ever tried. Our meal today included the staple in any Ethiopian meal, a slightly sour-tasting bread called njera. I’ve spoken to numerous Ethiopians in the past who swear that njera is the best food out there and that it is the first thing they ever miss from their home country. Personally I am not the biggest fan of njera, but it feels odd to enjoy Ethiopian food without it, so in my tummy it went. :p Njera is usually eaten with stews, curries, greens and beans. They also like to eat it with a sauce called shiro. Our njera today came with a potato curry, greens and capage (see photo). Franco also offered us a meat stew, but Sarah and I aren't the biggest fans of red meat so we opted out. 

Turkana Woman and I - July 2011

After our meal, we headed out to the streets and wandered around for a good hour and a half poking our heads into shops, shaking hands with the refugees and doing a bit of spontaneous shopping. I've had my mind set on getting a picture with a Turkana woman all week and finally got my chance today. She had been begging me for money, so I made her a deal - one picture for some pocket change. She agreed and there I had my picture! I purposely had the photo taken with her before handing over the money because when I handed over the two ten shilling coins I had in my pocket she complained that it was too little. I smiled at her, apologized in Swahili and continued on down the road. We had a bunch of other Turkana as us for money, but the refugees themselves were mostly respectful. They just smiled at us, wanted to shake our hands and practice their English. I suggested a photo to a few of them, but most were too shy so I decided on leaving my camera in my bag as to not offend anybody. The pics I was able to take are included in this blog. 

Refugee store on Obama Street

The highlight of our Camp stroll was by far our interaction with one, very lively...and most likely, slightly crazy, Turkana man. He came up to us like the other Turkana, wanting to shake our hands, talk to us and ask for money. As the reader may well be aware, there is a wide-spread food shortage that is overwhelming northern Kenya, Somalia and Ethiopia right now. Camp refugees are provided with UN food assistance, but the natives of north-eastern Kenya, the Turkana, are not able to enjoy such assistance as they are not refugees. It only made sense therefore that during our stroll in the camps, it was the Turkana, not the refugees, who were so keen on asking us for assistance. Not wanting to be overwhelmed by a crowd of Turkana begging for money, however, we politely refused to give money (with the exception of the Turkana lady I took a pic with). We did make sure to treat the Turkana, and refugees, with due respect however, by being sure to shake their hands, smile and talk with them for a couple minutes before moving on. ANYWAY, back to the particular, and rather peculiar Turkana gentleman we met...he approached us like all the other Turkana with a look of excitement, curiosity and need to shake our hands. He then went on to give us a good minute-or-two monologue in what sounded like a mixture of Turkana, English and Swahili. We were able to make out about 10 words of what he was saying because he was dragging out each word and had such a thick accent. He pronounced the swahili word "kidogo" ("small" or "some" in English) like "kiduuugo," for instance. And then he had this high pitched way of speaking that broke down any ability I had to keep a straight face. We made out the word children and pesa ("money" in English) and then he kept repeating the phrase "Education is the KEEEEEEYYYY to LIIIIIIIIIIFE."  When he pulled out that one I couldn't help but double over in laughter...Thankfully my laughter was matched by amusement in his eyes and laughter from refugee and Turkana onlookers. Obviously he was trying to get us to give him money so that he could send his kids to school. I would have loved to have been able to give him money. A crowd of equally needy onlookers had quickly surrounded us however and I feared we would be mobbed by outstretched hands should I reach in my bag for my wallet. Plus, what if we had given money to the Turkana man, but refused money to the others? We could have easily been hurt, especially as two unaccompanied women in a camp in which we were strangers. 

"Abstain from sex till marriage" - um, yeah,
don't agree with that one...

About 3 hours after entering the camp, Sarah and I departed for the UN compound drenched in sweat from the African sun, but having satisfied our curiosity (at least for today) about what the camps were like. Outside the camp are numerous signs advertising everything from the Kenyan Red Cross to the importance of abstaining from sex before marriage. We had our fun posing in front of the signs as you can see. :)