For me, 2015 was about igniting inner fires

As the year 2015 comes to an end, I am reminded that this is the moment when we venture into animated self-pontifications, perhaps, in order to reassure ourselves of our readiness to soldier on and (to) achieve those unfulfilled plans of 2015. Some people call this moment a period of serious soul-searching. 

For me, I see it as an affirmation of one solid truism. That time is a responsibility. So, as 2015 collapses and in its place sprouts 2016, the air around us is filled with that ever poignant question: Will 2016 be like 2015?

Well, I elect to wave back before I look forward. But before I touch this question, it would be fruitful to first dispense with this issue of whether 2015 and its happenings are detached from the past and the future. Hence the question: Is time a product of itself or an enabler of progress? In short, I think to talk about progress - in whatever manner - without invoking the central role of time is to live a lie.

Take the case of this common discourse on poverty and why Kenya seems to be hitting a dead end. My readings on this subject have left me burdened with painful questions. How possible is it to vanquish poverty when those referred to as poor understand not of their condition? Or is it an externally driven process whose finality has nothing to do with those listed as its beneficiaries? Paternalism, right?

I am of the view that for somebody or a group of people to see the road of success, there ought to be an inner push. This push exists not in a vacuum. It is a product of time. It is founded on time. It is time. It is an honest inquiry of what time portends.

Which brings me to my 2015 report card. Yes, I have largely written about poverty. A section of my readers have written to me seeking to know if writing about poverty is the only choice I have or I just “found myself preaching about it”.

First, writing about matters poverty has never been my choice. Talking about choices dilutes the sense of dealing with this animal called poverty. I look at it as an obligation to clear self-inflicted barriers that prevent the process of self-actualization.

Second, I consider poverty a negative-positive tool. This duality is informed by the number of people who profit and suffer under its wings. It is evident that sustaining this link demands some sort of mental gymnastics – both on the side of the “profiteer” and the “sufferer”. Hence, the need to underline the power of information in the war on poverty.

Third, how can this war on poverty be waged if the power of information is selectively deployed? How do “profiteers” and “sufferers” co-exist? Could it be as a result of this selective and/or skewed application of information?

Simple answer, my noises were aimed at igniting the fires inside you, dear readers. No qualms, I want your support. I want more members to join this shouting squad. And I know you are rightly placed to amplify this voice. 2016 is the moment. There is no better deal than finding the effectiveness of information.

Happy New Year!!!

Lemukol Ng’asike is an architect. Twitter: @mlemukol.

Our affinity for elite created 'two northern Kenyas'

Turkana women. Photo courtesy: Loito Titus.

There is every reason to doubt the tenacity of those spearheading the war on poverty in northern Kenya. That this process has been with us for ages yet the ground remains largely unchanged is for me, a clear indicator of its failure. It has failed to contain the rise of poverty - especially among the majority illiterate. 

One of the greatest challenges faced by the poor (in northern Kenya) is the fact that the narrative as to what constitutes anti-poverty moves derives its roots from a club of aficionados who have zero understanding about local poverty dynamics. Besides, these characters seem to cling to that old school way of doing things i.e. shout orders and listen not to the pleas of the populace. 

But I think I know a thing or two. This state of affairs soothes their feelings. It is their power bank.

This is the tipping point. Economically empowering populations has emerged as a new frontier of contestation between those who view the poor as a steady source of income and those whose actions are premised on "building a society that can stand on its own". This contestation is the oxygen behind the noises you hear about marginalization of northern Kenya. 

These elite power battles fall squarely into what scholar Tariq Ramadan describes in his many writings on politics and elitist manipulation of the masses as the dichotomy of alterity and likeness. Alterity and likeness imply a dichotomy based on power and/or interests which, whether in otherness (enabling the "aficionados" to define the general trajectory of the populace) or in likeness (trumpeting about imaginary gains and cashing in on the masses' gullibility to advance a predetermined narrative), can only favor one side, elite.

This dawned on me earlier this year when a highly-placed friend of mine whispered to me about the political math that keeps this enterprise of poverty alive in Turkana County. The guy declared that it is "better to steal and redistribute the loot within the locality than say, if an 'outsider' (euphemism for Kenyans from other regions) steals and goes with it to his 'home county'." 

In other words, it is politically correct to have localized theft than outsider-centric looting. Tragic.

This is despite the visible marks of social stagnation epitomized by hordes of jobless youth passing their time in village beer points.

No amount of violent crime christened as tribal raids or cattle rustling has succeeded to reconfigure the collective reasoning of these people towards the path of collective growth. 

The rhetoric is still the same - yesterday and today. The catch line remains the same. “Other people”, they say, are wholly to blame for the region’s stagnation. Local brains, again they posit, are as clean as angels. Lethal escapism.

Those of us who spend our time scribbling about northern Kenya know pretty well that this marginalization thing, though historically sound, is purely an art of appealing to the vulnerabilities of the people in order to herd them into one ideological corner. 

It is a political religion that only benefits the honcho atop the food chain.

Put another way, those potholed roads crisscrossing northern Kenya do not warrant a national consideration so long as powerful boys and girls from the region have their choppers ready to ship them to whichever destination they want. Those abandoned public schools in Garissa, Mandera and Wajir amount to nothing so long as it is only the children of the hoi polloi who get affected.

I fail to get a justification why a people who go to elections every five years, and participate in all civic exercises as demanded of any Kenyan citizen, can wallow in hopelessness. 

Why should a school child in Marsabit still be graded as "not at par" with her colleagues in other parts of Kenya? Does this mean the more than five decades of Kenya’s independence have not had visible marks on these parts of the nation?

The true northern Kenya that demands for support from the center has been pushed to the peripheries by an imaginary northern Kenya that resides in Nairobi, and pockets all goodies destined for the real northern Kenya.

I think it would be wise to extend the on-going war on graft to the many NGOs and half-governmental agencies operating in northern Kenya. I long for a people-centric tree shaker who will grasp the moral sense of confronting the elitist wastage that has reduced many hitherto life-saving agencies down there into money-minting shops.

Mark you; this is not a disease of the public sector alone. It is paramount to reiterate it here: wastage and theft cuts across the board.

It is time this narrative of ‘two northern Kenyas’ is crushed.

Lemukol Ng’asike is an architect. Twitter: @mlemukol.

Lodwar exemplifies Kenya's devolution "cow cities"

Overview of Nairobi city. Photo courtesy: Twitter.

This was an observation I made a few days ago when a Lodwar-based friend of mine posted on Facebook photos of near-Nairobi-like traffic jam in what was hitherto a dusty two-vehicle town. This is post-devolution Lodwar town. The headquarters of Turkana County.

The only bridge linking the center and the eastern portion of the town is always clogged up. There are just too many vehicles competing for space. The solution, he proposes, is to urgently erect a new bridge to ease pressure on the existing one.

Of course, my people will call this "development" for the only traffic jam they have known is that of cows and goats squeezing their way through a busy village market leaving behind a tornado of dust.

While this narrow bridge could actually be the issue, the crux of the matter according to me rests somewhere else. Devolution's outpouring of billions to mashinani is to blame (well, based on how you look at it). Vehicle ownership is the new status symbol down there.

From where I stand, I think this experience is both bad and good. It makes of a classic case of critiquing the very reasoning of those managing our agglomerations.

The juicy side of this is that urban planning as a key policy issue will take center stage. Those heavy-bodied women and men with newfound wealth will make this a reality. And you know what? They will be heard. One, because they have cash. Two, a majority of them sit in local decision-making bureaus.

Combine the two and you get the third motivation: giving life to “urban matters” like roads and water means responding to their personal challenges. This way, the public will end up collecting some fatty crumbs. Good!

The downside, however, is that we, as a country, have been caught flatfooted. The nakedness of our urban (and rural) development frameworks is now public knowledge. It is a no-confidence vote, I must add, against the municipalities and councils of yore. Those guys were just interested in revenue collection. 

The very critical aspects of monitoring urban trends with a view to building a responsive spatial entity for all received a beating. And this is how towns like Lodwar became "cow cities". Entities theoretically classified as "urban" but which operated as manyattas. Glorified manyattas - perhaps.

Several reasons fortify this  manyatta-status. One, these towns lack internal road connectivity. The only existing network, in most of them, is the road that enters and exits the town. 

Two, yes there is land for future expansion but there is no water to motivate this expansion. People crowd around water points. A painful experience reminiscent of those medieval cities of the Far East. 

Three, urban planning regime here is a strange lexicon. Even those charged with the mandate of implementing it are just but guess-work morons. Village-ism is king. This explains why cemeteries are under-utilized. People insist on burying their dead at "home", thereby complicating matters whenever there is need to execute land ownership transfer. Plots located in business strategic zones fall in this category.

(As a side note, even the dead have not been spared. You cannot, in your right mind, allow your loved one to be buried in these public cemeteries. A relook is highly needed).

So, which way forward? This is what I propose. One, consensus out there dictates that "government ignites (spatial) order". People tend to congregate around government installations. This proximity, it is believed, is an assurance of getting some "spillovers" of vital goodies like water and roads. And I squarely bank my argument on it. Governors and their respective assemblies should push their offices out of town. People will follow. And order will reign.

Two, people must discard this mentality that to be a "modern town", then, every place must be like Nairobi. I have seen this with the mad rush to put up traffic lights even on camel paths. A phenomenon that underpins local authorities’ poor understanding of the uniqueness of the places they govern.

It is simple, erecting mega flood lights at town's strategic points will do wonders. And sunbaked towns like Lodwar have an added advantage. Solar power is in plenty. 

The bottom line is that leaders must stretch their imaginations beyond normative responses.

Will this herald the death of “cow cities”? With cautious optimism, I choose to wait and see.

Lemukol Ng’asike is an architect. Twitter: @mlemukol

Paris talks: victory for dollar-thirsty climate change profiteers

Camels spotted in Turkana, North-West Kenya. PHOTO: Laforgue & Lédoux 

Notwithstanding the official outcome of the ongoing climate change talks in Paris, I am of the view that the real verdict, and which will reign supreme, is already out. One, more dollars (and perhaps euros) will be splashed out to supposedly "save the planet". Two, they will end up enriching this cable of profiteers we all know. Three, nobody will be held responsible for polluting the earth. Four, the poor will continue to shoulder the weight of climate Armageddon.

No, I refuse to be dropped into the ocean of skepticism. I am just as clear-headed as any other pro-earth noisemaker. But with one condition: if you stretch the meaning of earth to include the poor. 

This is the reason. Tragedies -whether man-made or natural - always attract many strange faces - some holy, others unholy. We all admit it is a tall order to spot any holy face. In this case I choose to focus on the unholy influential ones. 

Climate change "tragedy" is wholly man-made. This time round natural spirits are blameless. Our greed led to the plunder of our beautiful mother earth. The problem is that we erroneously thought that she will never feel the pain and fight back. We are now feeling the heat.

Again, the problem is those people who will pass these blows (from angry mother earth) to her poor children. Here, I refer to those pseudo-humanitarian apparatchiks and diplo-do-gooders who have already lined up to pocket climate change cash. It is what some might call the unholy trinity of climate change, climate dollars and climate millionaires.

Let's retrace this trajectory. Some twenty years ago, after HIV had gained ground and was mercilessly strangling folks, many governments scrambled to "contain" this deadly virus. I read, many states formed commissions to look into the matter, others passed laws and created special funding channels for, they say, HIV victims. Still others went overboard in a global fund-raising jamboree. As expected, the response was swift and positive. HIV dollars kept flowing in.

You know, it was the thing. Many jobs were created. Hitherto sleepy villages got a taste of “classy city life”. You could smell the elite from all corners.

But many moons after these HIV rains, many souls still languish in pain. The plot just hit the rock. Somebody somewhere might have pocketed "their money". I mean it is just a deadly business. Little has changed. Much has been given. HIV “crowd funding” is still the lifeline of many an in-humanitarian organizations.

Which brings me back to this climate change thing. Will the poor get their full share of this climate cake?

More principally, will this cake be treated as a case of a benevolent big brother extending a helping hand to a poor neighbour? Methinks not. I believe the world poor ought not to say "thank you". This is not aid. Climate change is not the working of the poor.

The reality, however, seems to be stuck in that old-school -ism. Aid-iplomacy. France is already playing ball promising billions of dollars to "save" the world from rising temperatures. Other big boys could not accept to be left out. Every (alleged) pollutant is promising big bundles of climate cash. 

The minions - Africa and her comrades - are on the receiving end. They are ready to "put the money into good use". The casualty in this case is the earth. Questions as to who pollutes and how that should be contained are off the table - at least for now. The bad guys are literally commandeering this climate ship. 

Back to the ground. Climate change move will be meaningful to the majority only if it is materialized in a manner that restores their environment to its state prior to man's plunder. For it is total nonsense to pooh-pooh about rising temperatures and to blame it for water scarcity and water-related conflicts while failing to restore water sources.

Take the case of the mega power and irrigation projects in Ethiopia’s Omo River Basin and their direct and indirect impact on surrounding ecosystems.

Why is the world silent? Who is financing these projects?

Unless the philosophical underpinning of climate change groups finds a solid footing, I have no obligation to sing this climate change song. The aforementioned unholy trinity and all its branches must be demolished at all costs. 

Lemukol Ng'asike is an architect. Twitter:    @mlemukol.

This is why I refuse to preach against pastoralism

That nomadic pastoralism must be discarded and in its place be planted a new mode of life is an undertaking that should not just be condemned, but its proponents ought to be schooled about the benefits of appreciating the uniqueness of others. There is a big reason why I refuse to be part of this anti-pastoralism group. Pastoralism is as fruitful as any other noble socio-economic venture. The main challenge facing pastoralists is this: little has been done to squeeze juice out of this age-old practice. 

Interventions have tended to focus on blaming nomads and their surroundings instead of injecting life to the many opportunities that accompany livestock keeping. From the look of things, this trajectory could be as a result of self-inflicted knowledge-gaps plus a dose of dangerous paternalism shaping development partnering in pastoral lands. The average livestock herder out there has been pushed to the peripheries; reduced to a figure that receives orders from supposedly knowledgeable people. His/her voice counts no more.

In Pastoralism pays: new evidence from the Horn of Africa , a study conducted by the International Institute for Environment and Development (IIED), the under-exploitation of extensive pastoral production systems derives its roots from outside forces - from authorities and development partners. The study outlines that "[...] the true value of pastoral systems is largely overlooked. Camel milk, goat meat, draught power and other goods and services provide subsistence products and household income; they also create employment, income opportunities and access to credit along their ‘value chains’. Pastoral products contribute significant revenues to public authorities and support the provision of basic services in rural towns; with support, this productivity could grow."

Of great significance to us is the fact the demand for high quality meat and milk outcompetes supply in many urban setups in Kenya. This is not to give credence to the theory that pastoralists are incapable of bridging this supply gap. It is simply a testament of how poor policies have impacted on pastoral production systems. Our people have become victims of officialdoms that see answers to everything pastoral through the lenses of modernization. Our people are advised to "modernize" their practices by people who can hardly explain the import and the rational of this modernization euphoria.

The same study suggests that institutionalized data collection systems in Kenya still do not capture the full value of pastoralism hence leading to a headless planning regime and misdirection in budgeting processes. It is possibly due to this 'data drought' that a number of organizations operating in pastoral lands find refuge in 'trial and error' budgeting method. And when things go haywire, the hapless cattle breeder in the plains of Turkana, Samburu and Isiolo is left to carry the cross alone.

We must change this once and for all. I see no reason why Kenya's meat and milk demand should not be met by Kenya's pastoralists. And to arrive at this point we must ask some bitter questions. Who benefits when people shift from pastoral systems to other modes of subsistence? Who controls the marketing channels and livestock price fluctuations? Why haven't pastoralists conquered the chains of poverty yet they possess immense livestock wealth? Could some entities be pocketing huge gains from this state of confusion?

Three findings come in handy. Livestock production thrives not in raw dependence on quantities. The trick is in building up competitive qualities. Pastoralists badly need huge doses of vital, contextualized information. They want this information near them. 

Two, an all-inclusive review of the value of pastoral production systems is needed to put paid the urgency of adopting intelligent investment. It adds no value for an overstretched herder to ship his goats to a far-flung market only to realize that no one needs his goats. 

Three, pastoralism as a socio-economic orientation is a human rights issue. It boils down to the very foundation of all human beings - the need to be respected and not to be coerced, in any way, to adopt what one does not voluntarily subscribe to.

I stand with pastoralism. I support those who practice it.

Lemukol Ng'asike is an architect. Twitter:  @mlemukol.  

There is bloodbath up north because schools are inexistent

Kootoro primary school, Turkana. Photo courtesy of Lotiki Thomas

Is "sedentarization" - forced or voluntary - the only way to respond to demands by nomads? Where, and when did we bury our creativity? Why haven’t we moved further to understand why illiteracy rules pastoral lands?

The above questions are inescapable as long as policies, actions, and/or interventions geared towards uplifting Kenya's nomadic people's living standards, and fostering peaceful coexistence among them remain skewed, and ill-informed of their local cultural dynamics and the uniqueness of the territories they inhabit.

The efforts of nomadic communities to preserve their cultural identity should not just be appreciated by all conscious beings but should also form the basis of our interaction with these communities. That they still wallow in material poverty and endless inter-community squabbles despite their immense cultural wealth should worry all of us.

We are morally obliged to look into this disconnect with a view to seeking ways of reversing it.

Promoting nomadic education in Kenya is a hard a story to sell to a Nairobi-based bureaucrat who has had no privilege of interacting with nomads, and appreciating the sensitivities that dot their daily lives. Paradoxically, it takes signatures of this kind of officials for nomadic education to see the light of the day. So whether we like it or not, confronting these folks is inevitable.

The punishing illiteracy among Kenya's nomads is a case study on how peace and development are dependent on education. It would be foolhardy to isolate poor penetration of formal schooling among communities from northern Kenya when reviewing the state of peace and the general welfare of the people. 

It is simple: there is bloodbath up north because there is hardly a school, a teacher, a pen and a book for its inhabitants.

The reasons behind this trend are many. One, the belief that schooling is only a dose to be dispensed to "settled" people. In other words, nomads will enjoy this "privilege" only if they settle down permanently. Two, cost implications. It is just too heavy a task to oversee mass construction of schools across this vast region and ensuring kids’ continued stay at school. Three, political blow-backs that view education as a means of alienating the populace from the path of absolute respect of local political establishments. In short, tyranny of status quo hampering education evangelism. Sad story. Four, zero creativity, zero innovation, hence zero progress.

When we talk about illiteracy hampering peace and development in pastoral lands, we talk about how everybody - the young and the old - are left out in this education promotion thing. We talk about a one-sided intervention that is yet to decipher the truism that even senior members of these targeted communities are also thirsty of knowledge. That fighting illiteracy is not just a matter of erecting structures to be used by school-going children only, but a need to put paid a component where adults can be educated.

Look, my lamentations here are informed by numbers from the government of Kenya. The 2009 national census put the number of illiterate folks in Turkana County at more than 70% of its entire population. The story is more or less the same in other nomads-dominated counties, namely, Samburu, Marsabit, West Pokot, Wajir, Garissa, Mandera and Tana River.

Which brings me to my core questions: why do we focus only on children? What makes us believe that by following this route we will overcome the huddles brought up by illiteracy?

No, I do not push for exclusion of children. I only advocate for 100% inclusion. I only push for a dual system. A system where children profit during the day, and adults get their lessons in the evenings. I only push for a system that is tailor-made to respond to the uniqueness of nomadic life. 

One more point. Adults do not just want to know how to read and write. They want skills to be drivers of their destinies. They want to be their own employers. And so? Open the frontiers of these people. Make them be the persons in their dreams. Allow them to interact with their successful peers from other regions. And by doing so, education will take root. The people themselves will lead this crusade.

Final thoughts: you promote peace up north not by distributing guns and bullets but by knowing what matters to the people - evangelism of progress to all.

Go thee and share this message with Kenyan pastoral nomads.

Lemukol Ng'asike is an architect. Twitter:  @mlemukol.  

Inside Turkana politics: where poverty oils elite's greed

Kenya's only oil county is under siege. It is currently confronting enemies from two fronts. One, from the hellish poverty that is synonymous with the region and two, from stone-age-leaning political networks that find solace in poverty promotion, and not poverty reduction.

The existence of a symbiotic relationship between the two is common knowledge.  We know, and everyone must know that politicians from Turkana have – for the last fifty years – used poverty as the springboard of their political ambitions. Paradoxically, this anti-poverty declarations have hardly been implemented. Still, out of this marriage comes a deadly politico-elitist enterprise whose philosophy is, bluntly speaking, "to profit as long as the poor live".

Objectification of the people and escapism as regards to war on poverty will eternally epitomize the aforementioned enterprise. There is just too much talk and finger-pointing than real work going on in this land of oil and water. An unprecedented generation of deal makers is alive. Self-aggrandizement, they believe, is what stands for leadership credentials. Result? People-centered initiatives have lost momentum.

That a group of leaders claiming to be the authentic voice of the people can turn around and defile the collective will of the populace demonstrates why underdevelopment is here to stay. What we see in Turkana is a case of unchallenged hypocrisy. Surely, it adds no value for people purporting to be leaders to dance with hungry, desperate villagers in a show of solidarity while they negate all interventions geared towards uplifting these same people.

It is paramount to reiterate it here; I firmly believe that it is what happens before and after any 'solidarity dance' that matters to these villagers. Not smiles that mask the real intentions of the leaders’ presence, that is, using people’s pain to catapult personal missions.

Nothing exemplifies this perfectly than what is spewed by an anti-Turkana county government brigade comprised of political incumbents who have outlived their usefulness, and have zero footprints to show for their long years in Kenya's legislative corridors. Of course their record of plunder and destruction is unrivaled. This group has assumed the job of branding Kenyans living in Turkana as "pure" and "not pure". The whole import of this charade is to advance a protectionist rhetoric that projects some individuals as "ineligible" to vie for any political seat in the county.

No doubt, lectures on Kenya's constitutional guarantees ought to be advanced to these folks.

But before that is effected, some questions are inescapable: Is this how desperation for political relevance can transform supposedly clever, mature people into noisemakers boiling in rage veiled as defense of public good? Or should we - the people - rejoice for witnessing a tectonic shift in how we judge and grade our leaders?

The truth of the matter is: Turkana's downfall is 90% linked to a greedy home-grown squad whose tentacles control not only the many NGOs crisscrossing the region but also government offices. This crazy wealth-accumulation frenzy is inspired by the need to "buy" voters to secure elective positions. Call it a case of stealing from the people and using the ill-gotten monies to buy them.

But here comes a curious development. I have learnt that following 2013 Kenya's shift to devolution and its outpouring of development billions, most of these hitherto powerful individuals "discovered" that all their traditional pots have dried up. There is nothing with which to buy public sympathy. And with this political nothingness comes a new mantra. That of disrupting, badmouthing, and making it humanely impossible for the county government of Turkana to work. 

At the core of this undertaking is one thing. That any success rate on the side of the county government means poverty reduction on the side of the population, which in turn translates to political death for those who, for many eons, banked on hollow distributionist calculations to hoodwink the people. Looks like these wonks have realized that the era of relief food politics is coming to an end.

I confer no positive scores to these political busy bodies. Wananchi’s empowerment is unstoppable. Mental and material slavery must be demolished and in its place (be) erected a monument of hope - one that cherishes the centrality of the people, their aspirations and the need to materialize them.

This is why Turkana County must remove its deadly tumor: its leaders’ love for poverty, and their hate for anti-poverty interventions. Nothing else!

Lemukol Ng’asike is an architect. Twitter: @mlemukol. 

We shall build sanitary pad factories in Lodwar...

There are many opportunities out there. Equally, there are many setbacks. We are where we are because we have intentionally refused to do the basics. We look further to look for answers for homegrown problems yet our rural hamlets are flowing with talents and unexploited energies. We are blinded by a certain strain of lethal paternalism. We are our own enemies.

Our girls drop out of schools because they lack sanitary towels. As a result, this has negatively impacted on their general literacy ranking, and by extension, on the social and economic growth of women. On the social front, we have ended up creating a group that feels undermined, and with no say; one that lives in pain for being born "different". 

I have heard many stories of school girls who get trapped by sex predators because they (girls) wanted cash to purchase sanitary towels and other necessities. This problem is real. They end up getting impregnated hence giving rise to another generation of poor, vulnerable people. On top of this rests that ever-present risk of contracting sexually transmitted infections.

Media reports show that currently sanitary pads usage in Kenya stands at 35%. This means that many Kenyan women either can hardly afford this necessity or have no clue about it. Still, they could be using other life-threatening means to keep this monthly thing under control.

Other sources indicate that about 50% of girls living in Kenyan slums engage in transactional sex so as to get money for sanitary pads. Others stay away from school, visiting friends or even talking to their close relations to avoid embarrassment from bloodstained clothes. 

The Kenya government sanitary towels provision program, though noble, is too little an effort to meet the needs of all Kenya's girls and women. While the government could be willing to do more, the huge amount of resources needed to materialize this, is out of its reach. The truth of the matter is, the state is unable to fully intervene.

But looking at the level of organization, and pragmatism espoused by Kenya's women makes me optimistic. They make me believe that we - the people - can actually do this sanitary thing on our own and allow the State to focus on other urgent national needs. 

Now, couple this pragmatism with the material poverty tormenting our people and you get an urgent need to empower these focused women. Readings on community empowerment, and anti-poverty experiments tell us that real progress pops up when people - the target groups - buy the idea destined to benefit them and become its co-implementers. This is contrary to the workings of a majority of our government agencies and their non-governmental partners.

Despite their elevated status most of the people managing these agencies still cling to the philosophy of 'give-and-never-train'. Evidently, these chaps abhor thinking hard. I am dead sure if they did, they would embark on mass training of people. They would pick that long route of educating and uplifting, and not the shorter one tinged with distribution-ism and short-term praise-singing.

By holistically responding to this sanitary problem, we will end up uplifting many families, and in turn kick poverty out of our borders. 

This is what I propose: tap into existing women groups, train their members, provide them with sewing machines and seed money, bring in cooperative gurus to share their knowledge on savings and group investments, link these women with school committees, and voila you will have a super machine that will supply those sanitary towels at village-friendly prices.

For starters, a look into Kenya's poverty ranking will prove helpful. 

What if we roll out this plan in northern frontier counties? Lodwar, Kapenguria, Marsabit, Isiolo, Maralal, Wajir, Garissa, Mandera towns..., (in my estimation) have more sanitary-towel-less women than any other place in Kenya. 

There is no reason for this condition to persist. We have all the tools to make things work.

Lemukol Ng'asike is an architect. Twitter:  @mlemukol.   

Set standards to curb wastage of county, CDF billions

Turkana Central CDF project. Photo: @LodwarCDF

That county and CDF billions have impacted positively on Kenya's grass-root development is a fact even the heavy-headed of our world will find it hard to countenance. On the same note, however, it is worth noting that these disbursements have laid bare our love for low quality works and services. Kenyans' minimalist inclination is no longer a secret. 

The level of workmanship of county/CDF-funded public projects is all you need to look at before you start piling praises on your governors and parliamentarians.

While we ought to be thankful for the many schools, dispensaries, toilets, markets and whatnot dotting our urban and rural hamlets, it is imperative to declare that most of the people contracted to do these works have failed to live up to the public expectation. 

I have three theories to explain this tendency. One, we hire quacks to implement our public projects. Two, we accord zero dignity to those destined to use these facilities. And three, supervision and work follow-up do not exist in our vocabularies.

It is clear the first case is a direct result of corruption - what many of us casually dismiss as 'powerful' corruption networks. Yes, those bellies populating government procurement bureaus. The second one emanates from our social stratification disease. Walk to any public primary school and count the number of children from top-cadre families. Zero. Public things are meant for those noisy, poor 'public people'. Dignity, it seems, is not a privilege to be extended to this wretched class.

The third theory is not far from the second. It is simple: why supervise work whose beneficiaries do not deserve dignity? 

Now you get the drift. Kenya's low-cadre is on its own.

How can we root out this tumor? From where I stand, the response to this demand goes beyond prescribing this or that. For me, it is a matter of design. Let us look at it this way: do we 'dislike' - and condemn - public projects just because they look ugly? What are the reference points that inform our condemnations?

Many a times we see multi-million shilling CDF/county-funded buildings sinking – quite literally. And when this happens, the public is reduced to a comedy of errors by public officials. Due to scarce information in the public domain, we are left to consume the narrative of those we suspect pilfered public cash. A case of a thief explaining his escapades to his victims – unchallenged!

Reason? The public has zero tools with which to bank on to give an informed perspective on the costing and quality of public projects.

Which brings me to this small matter: is it hard to design a small handbook-like manual prescribing the different parameters of determining public projects' value-for-money? (This is when I run to my ‘digital’ friends. Something like e-mwananchi-macho app won’t be that bad).

I believe this citizen-led approach will go a long way to confront scenarios where a visibly substandard Ksh 20,000 latrine is said to have swallowed millions of shillings. 

There are many models out there. There is 'materials model'. This is when we put more emphasis on the quality and cost implications of materials as a way of curbing wastage. Another one is 'ready-to-occupy model'. This mostly applies to those who believe building-from-scratch costs outweigh costs of buying ready-made structures. 

For the later, take the case of a pit latrine meant for a village market. A latrine that will be out of use after six months ought not to be built using permanent - and most of the time, costly - materials. Prefab types come in handy. 

Cost-cutting measures, duration of construction and (of) use, quality of workmanship and accountability must remain our bottom-lines.

I am alive to the fact that politicians may want to showcase their 'development records' before expiry of their terms. With this in mind, I think it is quite logical to allow creativity to be our guide. We cannot dwell in mountains of cement and bricks that eat all our public monies and still expect to cover huge tracts of our development plans. 

We can build many durable structures for our people if we veer off this old conventional thinking. With our 'new models', it will be easy for our villagers to pick up the wrong guys and 'teach' them. It is all about standards. You see.

Lemukol Ng'asike is an architect. Twitter:  @mlemukol.  

Reality check: HIV/AIDS kills Kenya's pastoralists in record numbers

Turkana dancers. Photo @Eloto

Those who keep reminding us about Kenya's gains in its fight against HIV/AIDS should just repackage their pontifications and take time off their daily routines and carry out a deep reflection. On top of these, they should get in touch with the reality on the ground - especially in the forgotten jungles in the north of Kenya. 

Please forget about those numbers churned out by your various arms of government. They do not tell any truth about the plight of those suffering from TB & HIV/AIDS. There exists two cases: either those who fabricate those figures know the truth and deliberately choose to suppress it, or they have never taken a serious look into the happenings outside their Nairobi offices. 

If unchecked, HIV/AIDS will soon top the list of causes of deaths among pastoralists. Even with its infamous tag as Kenya's insecurity (read banditry) hot-spot, HIV/AIDS coupled with its cousin, TB are tormenting people in Turkana County in a manner never seen before. Illiteracy, some clever people say, should be blamed for this.

But I think they are dead wrong. Banking on illiteracy is akin to heaping condemnations on HIV victims for being unschooled. Yes, more than fifty percent of people in Turkana practice nomadic pastoralism. A majority of them have no formal schooling. Media penetration in the region is still in its zeros. The county - bluntly speaking - is locked.

But let truth be our guiding star. Kenya's nomadic pastoralists are victims of a lazy officialdom that sees no reason to innovate, an officialdom that is too fixated with old redundant thinking. HIV and many other diseases are having a field day felling pastoralists because those who ought to provide them with vital information and services believe doing so will undermine their coveted positions. 

I am told health services were devolved long time ago. Again, someone reminded me that Kenya's health policy orientation is still an occupation of some big shots in Nairobi's Afya house. And so my questions come in: when will we confront this invisible deadly elephant that is silently decimating hundreds of Kenyans out there? When will we recognize the central role of information sharing as a means of countering diseases' onslaughts?

Equipping one or two health facilities that are located miles away from one another, and from people in need amounts to playing mind games with Kenyans. More ground work is needed. 

People, find time to examine Kenya's health map to stomach the pain we cause to our fellow compatriots. 

We have huge proportions of our herder-communities who have never been reached by government and non-government bodies charged with the responsibility of fighting sexually transmitted infections (STIs). It is common to spot these guys preaching to already informed chaps in towns. One, then, is left to wonder if those living outside towns are not entitled to this information. It is like STIs attack town people alone.

I think this is due to the existence of a false narrative along non/government corridors. These people think pastoralists live in "closed settings" that naturally keep them off STIs way. But they must be reminded that times have changed. All Kenyans - including pastoralists - are at risk of being hit by STIs projectiles. "Closed settings" do not exist anymore.

A pastoralist now stands a higher risk of contracting STIs due to the twin problems of ignorance (absence of information) and poverty. Sex pests too have joined the fray. They see pastoralists’ women and girls as easy targets. Join the dots and get the bigger picture. Danger lurks ahead.

We used to have TB camps - popularly called TB Manyattas - at major hospitals in northern Kenya. I am not sure if they still exist today. But one thing I know: these manyattas have never been decentralized to the villages. This is despite the fact that TB kills, and it kills in record numbers. We still see no reason to stop pointing fingers at victims. We have calmly retreated to our cocoons to lampoon pastoralists for being untidy and failing to "evolve with time".

Someone must do something now. Health sector reforms will only be meaningful if they touch those at the peripheries of our policy framework. Pastoralists have suffered for a long time. It is time to give them at least the basics - just vital information and services plus TB Manyattas. 

A healthy pastoralist is a healthy Kenya. Time we breathed life into this truism.

Lemukol Ng'asike is an architect. Twitter:  @mlemukol.