More Thrills Than Big Game Safari
As beekeepers at home tend their hives, Anna Chambers reports on her recent adventure with beekeepers in Kenya (Spring 2006).
From Irish jig to African bees
‘Idle
sitting not allowed
in bar and restaurant
by management’. The sign hangs on the wood panelled
wall above the table and in a corner a TV crackles fuzzy
highlights of the Africa cup. A barman leaves his wood-spindled
cage and approaches to take our order. ‘What’s
on the menu?’ we ask. ‘Chicken and chips’ comes
the blank reply. A pause. We decide. ‘Chicken and chips,
please.’ He disappears into the bowels of the building.
This is Africa but the story started in Ireland with an Irish jig. Last year at the Apimondia beekeeping conference in Dublin a tall, dark Kenyan captivated me with a smile. The night passed with Irish dancing, laughter and stories of beekeeping in two different worlds. Peter Otengo spoke of his village where he is trying to make a difference to people’s lives through beekeeping. Six months later, deep within the backstreets of Nairobi, this bar witness the start of our journey, our bags full of donated second-hand beekeeping equipment.
At one degree south Nairobi is just the first stop on the journey. Our destination lies one degree north, across the equator. The road to Kitale in northwest Kenya is more dust than road with remnants of tarmac causing the Citi Hoppa bus to leap and lurch uncomfortably. Views across the Rift Valley are stunning. Scientists claim this area is the cradle of humankind; what a beautiful place for a childhood. Zebra and monkeys walk the dusty roadside and people sell their wares, from sheepskins to honey, in their own little micro economies.
Places and facesEldoret is larger than Kitale and its buildings are reminiscent of colonial days (Kenya became independent of British rule in 1963). The bus stops here before heading on to Kitale. Youngsters openly sniff glue from bottles. These lost boys want their photos taken in return for money to fuel their habit, however the beauty of the digital camera is the instant image. These delightful unfortunates clamour to have their images captured and accept only the drinks we offer before the bus departs.
The journey is scheduled to take seven hours to cover the 330 kilometres to Kitale. In typical African style the bus left Nairobi late, was delayed at a roadblock on the way and arrives a hot and dusty twelve hours later. All this entertainment for the bargain price of £5.
From Kitale the village of Kesogo lies a rough and dusty twenty-five kilometres further north. A car takes us this final leg to arrive at Peter’s home in darkness, save for the glow of the kerosene lamp that welcomes us. Without the pollution of street lamps and electricity the stars are clear and bright – the whole universe alight above us.
A sea of faces appears out of the darkness to welcome us, accompanied by a medley of names, their owners each shaking our hands (even the youngest) saying ‘Jambo’ and ‘Karibu’. When abroad it is worth learning some of the language, even if you get it wrong. During a trip to Vietnam I waved and wished everyone Good Morning. They laughed and waved back. At the end of the trip someone told me I had been asking for porridge. ‘Jambo’ is Swahili for Hello and ‘Karibu’ means Welcome. They make us very welcome. Peter is one of twelve siblings, many of whom have children of their own, living within a stone’s throw of each other in separate homemade huts under the watchful eyes of Mama (Mother) and Baba (Father).
Our eyes soon adjust to the kerosene lamplight at night. In the morning fresh water is fetched from a nearby stream. The kitchen is a hut lined with dry red mud and is home to broody chickens and the family cow. A hollow clay mound in the middle of the dirt floor provides the wood-burning cooking facilities. The bathroom is an outhouse with a bowl of warmed stream water. The toilet is, well, basic. In spite of all this the family’s cleanliness is faultless.
Flowing with milk and honey
The cockerel struts his rousing morning round and we awake to a
sunrise that brings far reaching views across fertile red land. Like many
Africans in this area, the Otengos farm maize and tea for market. Chickens
provide eggs and meat for the family and the cow gives a regular supply of
milk. This verdant rural paradise is the perfect place to keep bees. This
is a land flowing with milk and honey; the honey part just needs tapping
into.
On our first morning in the village a beginner’s beekeeping course is held in the village hall-cum-church. In laid-back African style they forget to mention that we are running it. Despite being caught unawares, and with Peter translating into Swahili, we run the village’s first beekeeping lesson. Villagers are being encouraged to keep bees in order to increase their income, to better their children’s futures and to restore their self-confidence. Hives are made from what is available, from wooden boxes to hollowed out logs, or even an empty jerry can. Clay pots, made locally and used for cooking, make excellent hives reminiscent of traditional British straw skeps.
A place beyond our thoughts
Secured in the donated beekeeping equipment that we brought with
us, we visit Peter’s clay pot hives. Like the story of the Pied Piper
a crowd of children tags along down the labyrinth of dusty red tracks and
across fields to the beehives. They watch a few feet from the hives only
to retreat at high speed when the bees notice them. These African bees are Apis
mellifera scutellata, similar to our European Apis mellifera mellifera but
noticeably smaller and adept at entering bee suits through the tiniest of
gaps (I speak from experience). We steal wild comb and take it home to extract
the honey and make beeswax candles by the light of the kerosene lamp.
In a place beyond the thoughts of many Westerners these people survive on less than a dollar a day. Strong Christian faith, discipline and a belief in family values make them among the friendliest people I have met. These Africans are keen to learn and they turn to God, and to us, for help. Our visit brings resources, knowledge and motivation. Imagine aliens more advanced than us visiting from space. Would we not question them endlessly, asking for knowledge and tools so that we can progress? Peter has hopes and dreams beyond his resources and these drive him to make contacts that will ultimately make a difference.
The power of the Western traveller goes far beyond the power of money. Alone we cannot prevent corruption, eradicate HIV, or rid the world of poverty, but through shared knowledge we can make a difference to the lives of these people, as well as to our own lives. Improved income leads to better education and who knows where a future president will come from? From Irish jig to African adventure, the world is a small place. We have returned home from Kenya but our thoughts linger there a little longer. We leave part of ourselves behind in Kesogo, and in exchange we bring some of it home with us – mostly engrained with the red dust in our clothes.
Postscript
Anna Chambers is a member of the Chalfonts Beekeepers’ Society
(CBS), which is supporting the self-help group in Kesogo. Through education
the villagers are developing skills that enable them to improve their family
income and their self-esteem. A raffle, Make a Buzz, is
being held for only 50p per ticket with cash prizes of up to £100.
Beekeepers across the country are also donating honey for sale in the Pledge a
Pot scheme. Small gestures on our side provide a future in Kenya.
To date enough money has been raised to pay for three villagers to attend two
training courses at Baraka college, Molo, Kenya www.sustainableag.org – ‘Setting
up a Beekeeping Enterprise’, and ‘Making Beekeeping Equipment’.
For more information on this fund raising project, on Kesogo, and on beekeeping
both home and abroad visit www.peoplesgardens.co.uk/Kenya/Bees.htm