Originally from jasiri by dara reBlogged by African Women Blogs on Jun 1, 2006, 10:23PM

Originally from Guessaurus by Guessaurus reBlogged by African Women Blogs on Jun 1, 2006, 9:41PM

Originally from Malaika by Malaika reBlogged by African Women Blogs on Jun 1, 2006, 7:01PM

On June 1st 2006 Kenyans everywhere will be celebrating Madaraka Day. Madaraka Day commemorates the day that Kenya attained internal self-rule following an important milestone on the road to independence. To mark this event I have joined my fellow Kenyan Blog Webring (KBW) members as we blog in unison under the banner ‘Kenyan Bloggers’ Day’.
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While working on the first part of my Kenyan Bloggers’ Day contribution I came across Doodle 4 Google: my Britain.

[This is] a nationwide design competition open to the UK’s 10 million school children. Young people are being invited to design a Google doodle explaining what it means to be British today. The winning doodle, which will be displayed on the Google UK homepage for 24 hours, will be seen by around 18 million people.

[read more the full article]

Doodle for Google began in 2005 and the winner of last year’s competition was 11 year old London student, Lisa Wainaina (pictured below with Dennis Hwang and her wining doodle)

She designed a doodle titled ‘Day of the child’. Lisa’s creative theme and clever incorporation of childhood images into the Google logo contributed to her being named the winner of the London competition. Lisa’s doodle was hosted on the Google homepage for 24 hours for millions of people to see, including her very proud parents and schoolmates.

[Read more here]

As I read the 2005 Winner’s name, I felt in me an emotion similar to (but stronger than) the feeling I get when I first notice a stranger wearing a Kenyan T-shirt or carrying a kiondo. It matters not that I do not know the person, or they may not be Kenyan. All I see is a person carrying an aspect of my identity and often they do so with such pride that it makes me want to stop them and say,

“Because you chose to wear/carry X, every person you meet will be exposed to a part of my culture and identity. They will admire the beautiful X you wear/carry. They may even want to find out more. In short you are representing and for that I am grateful’

I have never had the courage to say all the above to a total stranger. Sometimes I wish I did have that courage. Especially since these happy thoughts are often eroded cynicism.

I begin to question the carrier’s/wearer’s identity,
‘hmmm….I bet he/she is not even Kenyan’.

I speculate on their motives,
‘hmm…I bet they wore X, carried X because the “Ethnic” look is in.’

I conclude that the stranger pronounces Kenya as Kee.ni.a, they have only visited Kenya once on a 10 day package holiday/safari. Based on this I convince myself that the stranger has no to right to lay claim to my heritage. It may be days later before I remember how upset I get when others attempt to redefine my identity and the ways I choose to display it.

Nobody has the right to decide the cultural signifiers that others may use to define their identity and I certainly do not have the right to define another persons’ cultural/national identity.

With this in mind I approach the issue of Ms Wainaina and her outstanding achievement with a certain degree of caution.

I do not know Ms Wainaina and the articles that document her win make no reference to her national identity. I do know however that Wainaina is a Kenyan name.

Actually, that is all I need to know.

Through her name, Ms Wainaina carries an aspect of my cultural/national identity. Through her success she has exposed an aspect of my identity to millions of people. People all around the world will admire her work and will congratulate her on her win. They may even ask about her name. In short she is representing. And for this I am grateful.

As I think of Lisa Wainaina and her online achievements I am reminded of something the Acrobat said in his Kenyan Bloggers’ Day post.

Kenya was not a house we moved into, it was a house which they started building, which we will complete and which our children will furnish. In that sense we mould it in our character. It is a reflection of us. The good and the bad. But it is us.

While his remarks are in reference to the building of a nation, I feel it can also be applied to the building of a nation’s online identity.

A short while back, it was almost impossible to find news, opinions, gossip, facts and stories on Kenya written by Kenyans/friends of Kenya. In the recent months, through the proliferation of Kenyan/Kenyan friendly blogs we have started to shape Kenya’s presence on the net.

The Kenyan Blogsphere was not a house we moved into, it is a house which we are still building, the Lisa Wainana’s are already working on the interior design and by the time her children move in they will be adding loft conversions for our ever growing family.

In this sense, through our blogs, we are moulding the Kenyan Blogsphere and in turn Kenya’s identity on the internet. It is a reflection of us. The good and the bad, but it is us.

And damn! Am I proud of us!

Happy Madaraka Day

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Lisa Wainana image from Doodle 4 Google’s publicity page.

Originally from Mama JunkYard's by Kui reBlogged by African Women Blogs on Jun 1, 2006, 6:59PM

***Cross posted from A Thousand Words

On June 1st 2006 Kenyans everywhere will be celebrating Madaraka Day. Madaraka Day commemorates the day that Kenya attained internal self-rule following an important milestone on the road to independence. To mark this event I have joined my fellow Kenyan Blog Webring (KBW) members as we blog in unison under the banner ‘Kenyan Bloggers’ Day’.
—————————————-

I have always admired the work of Dennis Hwang. He is the man behind the Google Holiday Doodles. I had so much faith in their holiday logos to the extent that I did not consider a day a holiday unless Google had doodled it.

Today, the day Kenya attained internal self-rule, I expected Google Kenya to be all doodled out in black, green and red. But alas, there was no Madaraka Day Doodle!

So in the true Madaraka spirit, I decided to use the freedom that comes with having access to the Internet to create and share my own Google Doodle!

Happy Madaraka Day.

————–
Credit:

• Dr Mich - who refuses to get a blog but seems to enjoy helping me on mine - worked with me on this Mockoogle Logo.

Originally from Mama JunkYard's by Kui reBlogged by African Women Blogs on Jun 1, 2006, 6:58PM

Originally from Lawyer in the Making by Lawyer in the Making reBlogged by African Women Blogs on Jun 1, 2006, 3:03PM

So its Madaraka Day in Kenya!! And what are we celebrating? Are we celebrating the independence we got from the British in 1963 only to become the prisoners under our inept politicians? Are we celebrating our debt? Being under the control of IMF and World Bank who dictate what we can or cant do? Are we celebrating the Kenyan Brother who says that since I am not home I am not helping?? Are we celebrating the people who dont have anything to eat? Are we celebrating the ones who have it all?

Freedom? We havent seen freedom yet!!!

Originally from Life and its General Nonsense by Movie Buff reBlogged by African Women Blogs on Jun 1, 2006, 1:58PM

Originally from Marian's Blog by Marian Douglas reBlogged by African Women Blogs on Jun 1, 2006, 1:51PM

Originally from adefunke on ... adefunke! by adefunke reBlogged by African Women Blogs on Jun 1, 2006, 1:02PM

Originally from Kenyan Pundit by Ory Okolloh reBlogged by African Women Blogs on Jun 1, 2006, 12:11PM

Kenya nchi yangu
Kenya nchi yangu
Nchi iliyo uhuru
Toka sasa mpka milele

I didn't know if I was going to write this post. I didn't have any inspiration, any idea's to write about. So I was just going to do my KBW rounds and read and enjoy and revel in what everyone else wrote. so that's what I did. This morning I opened the KBW aggregator, and read various posts, from Magaidi's I'm Kenyan, Uta Do to Guess's Foreign Foreigner Forever and a beautiful, stunning photo essay at Life, the Universe and everything.

Every hour, another post was re-logged on the aggregator and slowly, the page was full of posts about Kenya. Still I thought, I have nothing new to write, nothing new to say. I will be content to celebrate Madaraka Day in solidarity with other Kenyan bloggers but in silence.

Then I started watching the Madaraka Day celebrations at Nyayo Stadium. And for the first time in my life, I found myself enjoying it. My whole life, I always thought the broadcast of the celebration was a waste of time when the various stations could be showing much more interesting things!! C'mon, I have a free day, I want to watch movies and cartoons and stuff, not this crap. I begrudged the celebrations every minute they were allocated. I counted every second of time "wasted".

Every year I thought that. Every year I couldn't wait for the celebrations to end and regular programming to resume.

Until today.

I enjoyed everything. I enjoyed watching the activities before President Kibaki arrived, throngs of fellow Kenyans coming in and taking their place in the stands, leaders and dignitaries arriving and taking their privileged cushioned seats, President Kibaki arriving in that open Landrover which I can't help thinking is the same one President Moi used, Lucy taking her seat and looking quite dandy today thank you very much!, President Kibaki inspecting the guard of honour, various armed forces divisions marching past the presidential dais, young boys and girls in the scouts and girl guides marching past the commander-in-chief, the requisite Kamba dancers, some limber acrobats, a ensemble of contemporary Kenyan musicians (Suzanna Owiyo, Achieng Abura, Suzanne Kibukosya and others) doing a medley of Kenyan songs and finally, I'm even enjoying the speech. Imagine that!!

You know, we all have beef with former President Moi. But today I realised one thing, Moi may have run this country to the ground, but as he did it, we were always singing about being proud to be Kenyan. About Kenya Kipenzi Changu. All national days were celebrated in pomp and style and you know, it felt.... important.

I don't know how the old man did it, and I don't care if people were paid to write songs about Kenya's greatness and all that. Fact is, we have a rich repertoire of patriotic songs that we all identify with. And you know, as far as Moi's legacy goes, I'm happy to come away with that.

Today I stood and danced to all those songs. My heart swelled and my body moved. I remembered hearing those songs every morning on KBC (VOK) radio. It felt BRILLIANT!!

I struggled to remember the words and each new song caused me to dance a little bit more vigorously. My voice grew louder and prouder as I remembered words long buried in my mind. I loved it!

I watched the whole thing. And I couldn't sit still. I wanted to get up and dance, and celebrate my Kenyanness. For the first time, I wanted to be out there, at the stadium, in the hot sun, in the middle of all the action!

The image I came away with is this one:



Look at that girl and tell me you don't feel a surge of something, anything. A young girl scout, who left home at dawn this morning, bubbling with excitement because today she was going to match past President Kibaki. I bet she polished her shoes last night till they shone in the dark, and implored her mum to iron her uniform to a crispness! And today as she matched past the president, she had the presence of mind to salute her commander-in-chief. Beautiful.

Mental over at MentalAcrobatics has a quote I want to use here. George Bernard Shaw said patriotism is “the conviction that your country is superior to all other countries simply because you were born in it.”

Well it is, isn't it. When you meet people from other countries, nine out of ten times they're bloody chuffed to be from their home country. (Oh except my friend "Kamau" who has completed his defection from Britain to Kenya)

But just because everyone feels that way about their country doesn't make patriotism any less important. I know that feeling that engulfs me and makes me puff out my chest and stand ten feet taller whenever someone asks me where I'm from and I say "I'm Kenyan". It's heady and warm and makes my toes curl.

And it doesn't matter really, that you know, my country is a mess, we have barbarians for leaders and many things don't work as they should.

For me, the reason I'm proud to be Kenyan is not something tangible, and it's not because we win international athletics meets (oh and when we go the wrong way!) or because our country is absolutely stunning (so are other countries) or because we have vibrant beautiful cultures (so do other countries) or because our sausages rock!! (which they do).

I'm not saying that all those things about Kenya aren't special and absolutely fabulous, but you know, I see other beautiful countries all over the world. Tanzania has the Big Five too and there are breathtaking beaches all over the world. I am fascinated by cultures all over the world and want to live in India and Japan and Senegal. Other countries win athletics medals too, just look at the medals table!

For me, my pride is not in all those things, or because of all those things (or Kenchic chicken!). It's bigger and grander than that.

I acknowledge that everything is not all rosy, we're not all swimming in milk and honey, life is hard, man! Our worthless politicians and leaders continue to disregard what they are supposed to be doing in that House. Injustice abounds and you know, the average Kenyan, isn't going to go to bed any happier today.

But we are here, and we are Kenya, and as long as we know that, there will be something that pushes us to want better, to demand better, to work towards a better Kenya.

I think that is the same thing that drove our great grandfathers and grandmothers into the forest and made them stand tall and proud against the yoke of colonialism. That gave them the courage and strength to sacrifice their lives, for the right to live in freedom in the place they called home.

Kenya is great. Full stop. Not because of any one thing. But because of all those things. Kenya is greater than any of us, and all of us. Greater than any thing, and all things.

And I am proud to be Kenyan, simply because.

And today, I finally get it.

Madaraka Day soundbite

"Things are getting better, and I want to assure you all, they will continue to get better."

President Mwai Kibaki, during his Madaraka Day speech

Originally from au lait by Ms K reBlogged by African Women Blogs on Jun 1, 2006, 12:00PM

Originally from adefunke on ... adefunke! by adefunke reBlogged by African Women Blogs on Jun 1, 2006, 11:13AM

Originally from Pilgrimage to self by Pilgrimage to Self reBlogged by African Women Blogs on Jun 1, 2006, 10:17AM

I have always admired the work of Dennis Hwang. He is the man behind the Google Holiday Doodles. I had so much faith in their holiday logos to the extent that I did not consider a day a holiday unless Google had doodled it.

Today, the day Kenya attained internal self-rule, I expected Google Kenya to be all doodled out in black, green and red. But alas, there was no Madaraka Day Doodle!

So in the true Madaraka spirit, I decided to use the freedom that comes with having access to the Internet to create and share my own Google Doodle!

* I have called this post part 1 because I still plan to do a ‘proper’ Kenyan Bloggers’ Day post (with buttons and all) over at my official blog, Mama JunkYard’s

Happy Madaraka Day.

Originally from A Thousand Words.... by Kui reBlogged by African Women Blogs on Jun 1, 2006, 9:56AM

Originally from Pilgrimage to self by Pilgrimage to Self reBlogged by African Women Blogs on Jun 1, 2006, 8:33AM

Originally from Matters of the Mind by AK reBlogged by African Women Blogs on Jun 1, 2006, 8:21AM

Originally from Random Rants of the Kenyan Girl Next Door by Girl next door reBlogged by African Women Blogs on Jun 1, 2006, 7:47AM

Originally from The World According To Adaure by Adaure reBlogged by African Women Blogs on Jun 1, 2006, 6:02AM

Originally from CoffeeChilliSun by Dina reBlogged by African Women Blogs on Jun 1, 2006, 5:09AM

Today is Madaraka Day – “Madaraka Day commemorates the day that Kenya attained internal self-rule following an important milestone on the road to independence.”

Members of the Kenyan Blogs Webring (KBW) are celebrating the day with a series of posts on Kenya. I only recently joined the KBW but everyone has been extremely welcoming and I can truly say that I am happy to be part of the KBW community. I have actually visited Kenya, Nairobi to be precise, although it was quite a while back. I really remember hardly anything and I was only there for a few days. I have to confess that until a few days ago I had never heard the word “Madaraka” but I wish all Kenyans a happy day and I hope those of you in the Diaspora will not feel too sad at being away from home on this day.

It so happens that one of my favourte musicians is a Kenyan so it seems apt to write a short piece on Kenyan musicians as a way of celebrating Kenya’s past, present and future on this special Madaraka Day. Here are three that I specially like. First is Ayub Ogada who I have been listening to for many years and is one of my favourte artists. Ayub Ogada plays the “nyatiti” which is a string instrument and like the mbira has a metal bit which acts as a resonater giving that kind of ting vibrating sound. Nyatiti Clip

His music is a mixture of traditional and modern. Here he is (left) with Zimbabwean mbira player, Chartwell Dutiro - two sides of one coin, the nyatiti and the mbira - a spiritual high.

Another great Kenyan band is Jabila Afrika which is very different to the mellow Ogada with a strong powerful roots jazz mix sound. They have an excellent website where you can listen to Jabali-afrika radio all day long.

Finally in my Kenyan trio is Kenya’s answer to Franco - the late Ochieng Kabaselleh - lovers rock Kenyan style. For some reason listening to this reminds me of growing up and the “good old days” of family fun and laughter - once we were young - better stop before I burst into tears!

Signing off with some Ayub Ogada Happy Madaraka Day!

Tags: kenya, , ayubogada, africa, music, kenyanunlimited, independence

Originally from Black Looks by Sokari reBlogged by African Women Blogs on Jun 1, 2006, 4:57AM

Originally from Kabinti by Kabinti reBlogged by African Women Blogs on Jun 1, 2006, 3:38AM

The HORROR!!!

Last week was a full fledged grind. I was moving to my new place, which meant closing and cleaning the last place, returning the key, and getting everything established at the new place. I was not only moving things from my old apartment to the new one, but also things that I'd kept in storage since I'd moved here. I also had to do laundry, something that wasn't completed a couple of months ago when I'd started it...you should well know why. I had to be out of my apartment by the time that I'd return from the Dominican, so the heat was on.

I rented a U-Haul truck and hired a couple of men to load the truck at both locations (old apt and storage) and unload it at the new place. After a mix up the first day (I had to go through the drama of getting a new drivers license)..I rescheduled and had them come the next day...Thursday. Move complete...well sort of. I still had to clean the old place and pack to leave. Not to mention the months of laundry and a mall stop. I dug through boxes I hadn't seen in a year to find my passport...I did as much laundry as I possibly could. It was down to the wire...but I managed to get everything done just before I needed to be at the airport...at 4:30 am on Friday. Of course some things were just half done (like the packing job) but I had what I needed in my possession.

I slept the whole way to the Dominican. When I arrived, I took off my jacket (planes are always more than too cold for my lizard like nature) and shoved it into my suitcase before passing through baggage claims. I passed through and observed my surroundings.... African Americans were there in droves. I went down for one of 4 summer events that take place on Memorial weekend for black people. One was the Tom Joyner morning show cruise. The second is the Soul Beach festival in Aruba...and I believe Russ par also had his cruise that weekend also. First Fridays, an entertainment club for black professionals, organized this trip as a First Fridays United trip in the Dominican. That is, all the FF's organizations from all over the united states and the carribean booked the trip to come and meet the other members throughout the states. I saw a group of girls and asked if they were with first fridays as well...they were with soul siesta...another group similiar to first fridays that was also doing their weekend at the same resort with us. None of us knew what bus we were to take to the hotel, so we shared a cab to the Resort. At one point, Christina asked me to move the seat forward. She has a good foot on me, and I happily obliged her request.

The scenery was beautiful...ocean as far as one could see. The country is still developing...and I'd been warned by my aunt before I left to go, so I was quite okay with everything. We arrived in Boca Chica soon enough, and checked into our rooms. I went upstairs to take inventory of my room. I could live with it. All that I require is a clean room and a decent bathroom and I'm as happy as a lark. I looked out the window and saw the beach. Nice. I decided to call my girlfriend to moan about the disorganization with the room and airport transfer (I didn't have a room when I went to check in although I'd paid for it up front and been promised that when I'd arrived I would be fine) She still hadn't checked in. Hmm. Wondered where she was. I lay down and examined the cable television offerings. Definitely good. A nice mix of english and spanish channels and programs. I could live with that too. Called my girlfriend twice more. Still no answer. After relaxing a few more minutes, I decided to look at my passport and see what the stamp looked like for the Dominican Republic. I got up and went to my suitcase. I dragged it to the bed and pulled out the jacket. I shook it out, no passport. Crap. I have to unpack. I started taking out clothes...jeans, capris, skirts, tops, no passport! What the heck? I looked into the side pockets of the suitcase. No passport. I started repacking the suitcase carefully shaking out the clothes that I'd removed and folding them back up. No passport.

That little white light...what I feel/see when a particularly horrific incident is taking place started to shine. I began to panic. Where the heck is my passport!!?!?

I had clutched my passport the entire trip down....my purse I'd shoved empty into my suitcase at the last minute when heading for the airport shuttle. It had been in my trunk along with my wallet and jacket tossed in there during the move, and removed knowing that I'd need both during the journey. I'd had it in my hand before passing baggage claims. I thought I'd put it into my bag with my jacket, but I did have my claim ticket in the back of it, so maybe I'd kept it in my hand on the way to the cab. I wasn't sure. I could remember moving the seat up for Christina. It wasn't in my bag. I'd watched my bags being unloaded into the cab and unloaded. They weren't tampered with. I must have left it in the cab. Oh my God!!!!! I've lost my passport in an undeveloped country. I've lost my passport in a country where I blend. Oh my fricking god!!!!

I called Guest Services and explained my dilemna. He called the taxi company...they said wait a little while, and they would look for it. If it was left in one of their cabs, they promised it would be returned to me. RIGHT RIGHT. I called my girlfriend again. Still not here. WTH!?! She was supposed to arrive at the same time I did. Back to the suitcase. Frantically I pulled out clothes... balling them up to the right of the case on the bed...until I could see the black lining of the case again. It just isn't here!! Why am I such a freaking dumbass??? I went through the sides again. Through the clothes. Not there...What do you do when you lose a passport in a foreign country??? You cry..thats what you do.

I owed the girls I shared the cab with...I only took my card and needed to get money from the ATM...Invalid entry or card. I tried 3 times. No dice. This is definitely not my day. Back to the room to call the number on the back of my card...800 numbers don't work in foreign countries...I went downstairs and talked to a woman at guest services. Tears were rolling...not only do I have no passport, but also no money...and no way to call out cause I can't use the FLIPPING PHONES!!!! She called the card company for me...they explained that the money I was trying to retrieve was in pesos, and that I had to convert it to dollars and take out the appropriate amount....okay no problem. I then told the lady about my issues with the lost passport...she looks VERY concerned. I felt very concerned. She says the best thing to do at this point was to go back to the airport and see if you see the guy that you rode with. Try and ask around to the taxi drivers and see if they know about it. I asked her to be straight with me...how likely was it that I'd get it back...she looked at me and said honestly...Slim. I thanked her and went to arrange for a taxi back to the airport. I had stopped with the tears because as long as I was doing something about it...I was alright with it. Off to the airport...I noticed goats and horses and a couple of children playing in a "pool" of muddy water with no clothes on. It would have made a good picture...but I had other fish to fry...off to a group of men with discussion for days...We walked around from place to place my tale being translated when necessary and older men clicking their tongues sympathetically when the story ended...I was irritated at this point. Back to the hotel. Back to the concierge and the purchase of a password to get online and find out what I could do to help myself...I googled the US embassy, and I wrote to my new friend. I asked him to call if he could.

Back to the room...more tears...and anger...I'd found a person to blame. WAYNE SHIELDS. The organizer. THE MFER!!! He hadn't given me the info I needed to get to the hotel from the airport. A service I'd paid for and damn it if I'd been on the tour bus like I was supposed to, I'd have my passport that night. I'd be able to get back home. I wouldn't be at risk for identity theft. I shouldn't have come on this stupid stupid trip!!! Its too damned hot here anyway!!!

Speaking of Wayne, let me call him and find out what the heck is going on with the room. I called the operator and asked to be connected...they gave me his room number..Damn...a sister could die over here easy...I called him and told him my name. He started telling me about how hard his flight was...I lit into him like a bee into unshielded behind...I gave him both barrels...and then some. He asked if I wanted to meet him in the lobby to straighten it out. I told him that he didn't Want to meet me anywhere tonight...Trust and Believe buddy. I think he was a believer. He told me he was going right down to handle it. I was going right to the bank to cancel the last payment on this trip when I got home too. I lay down again and stared at the ceiling.

The phone rang...My girlfriend. She finally got here! I was glad...I thought she might not have made her plane or something... I told her that I was screwed. Told her what had happened. I told her how I didn't have a room even when I got here and how Wayne was gonna hear it from me when he finally got here. She was kind and listened to me cry. I told her that I blended...Girl I'm never gonna see my passport again. She agreed. You blend, and you probably won't. She was coming over. Okay...

The phone rang again..It was my new friend! Thank GOD! I was so happy to hear a calm, rational, familiar voice. A knowledgeable practical person. I whined on him... he gave me a game plan. I calmed down. A lot. Go to the embassy. Its closed M. Plus its a holiday weekend. No one is going to be there. Go anyway...just see. Okay I say..wiping snot from my face. Why did I come here? It would have been cool if I'd lost it in Japan or China, but here!! I'd seen half a dozen women that could have been in my family sitting in the lobby. I'm never going to get home. I'm going to get kicked out of school because I lost my passport in a foreign country and cannot get home. Brilliant. Bloody brilliant. You'll get home..he assured me of that...the question was when. I believed him. I'd get home. At least you'll have some good blogging material he said...I'll never blog about this I told him. I'd be too embarrassed about my stupidity. But, I would go to the embassy and I'd get in touch with the airline to find out how much a change in itinerary would cost...tomorrow first thing. We said our good byes.

My girlfriend came during our talk...she suggested we go and get food. I was starved, plus I needed a drink. I told her I wasn't changing..I could give less than a damn about how I looked at that point. I apologized for the way I knew I was going to bring our trip down because of my stupidity. And we headed out. Dinner was okay. Drinks were better. She made me laugh about the situation, and I accepted it. We sat by a window facing the beach, and I decided to try and enjoy the last few days on the island. We retired early with plans of the embassy visit at 10 am. in mind. As I drifted off to sleep...my suitcase full of everything but my passport...I stared at it wisfully...wishing that by some miracle....it was really inside of it. I knew it wasn't possible...but I just wished.

Originally from Malaika by Malaika reBlogged by African Women Blogs on Jun 1, 2006, 2:52AM

Originally from Mshairi by Mshairi reBlogged by African Women Blogs on Jun 1, 2006, 2:00AM

Chaaaah.

So donor nations’ problem child, Ethiopia, got a $1.o5 billion aid package from the World Bank. See? See what blocking opposition websites, repressing free speech, jailing the opposition and being an AK-47 wielding goon in a silk tie gets ya? Schweeet.

And, as always, the World Bank’s ‘aw shucks’ explanation as to why the Ethiopian government gets rewarded for ragamuffin behavior is more interesting than the reward itself because, true to form, the World Bank assumes we are all snot-eating imbeciles. Love that.

Get ready, set… whatever…

Instead of lending to the national government as it usually does, the [World] bank will provide $215 million of its new aid to hundreds of local governments, mainly for basic services such as water, health and education.

Monsieur Ishac Diwan, care to string together a blustery, yet oddly predictable vociferation? You do? Oh well.

"It's not a magic solution. It's just a completely different way of doing business."

Completely different? Hmm. Like paying protection money to Tony Soprano through Benny Fazio instead of Silvio Dante different?

The problem is, no one asks Dr. Diwan what exactly is the difference between the federal and local government. Who controls local governments? Who are its leaders? Oh, yeah. Why were local elections ‘postponed’ by the federal government? So when Dr. Diwan tells us this is a “completely different” way of doing business, I think we are supposed to nod seriously and be awed by his declamatory fiat. We’re not worthy. We’re not worthy.

On November 16, 2005, a clearly agitated Dr. Diwan was unwavering in his convictions.

"Aid will be cut. The question is by how much?" Isaac Diwan, World Bank country director in Ethiopia, said in an interview.

"We have sent very clear signals that international and World Bank assistance will be cut over time if the governance situation does not improve," Diwan said.

Well the “government situation” must have improved since November... what? Why are you giving me the stink eye? All opposition leaders are safely in prison; journalists are journaling… in prison, and Prime Minister Meles has not called anyone else a “self appointed colonial viceroy.” Let aid money rain.

In a May 17 letter to EthioMedia, Dr. Diwan promised this new direct budgetary supplement that shalt not be referred to as direct budgetary supplement would:

have stringent reporting requirements and explicit mechanisms for promoting transparency and accountability in public budgets, resource use and service delivery.

Okeydokeysmokey.

The project has not one, but two, strong components that would seek to empower the poor to demand quality public services.

Ya? Two? Well, good luck with that because the Ethiopian government has not two but hundreds of strong components to keep its poor nice and un-empowered. But, okay. We get it. Maybe ‘stringent reporting requirements’ will tempt the Ethiopian government to treat its people decently. We all know what deference Prime Minister Meles has for ‘stringent’ reporting.

But here comes the Ethiopian American Civic Advocacy to put the kabash on Dr. Diwan’s buoyant head trip. On May 24, our own Inde Hewan, patron Saint of Wonqville and econ chick extraordinaire, wrote a response to Dr. Diwan.

The letter takes umbrage with the awkward nomenclature and the logic behind the whole “thou shalt not call the Protection of Basic Services (avert your eyes and bow) direct budgetary supplement. Ahoy, witness the birth of PBS…may it live long and prosper. You may FedEx your ululations ” reasoning.

Speak, EACA.

… just because the loan is no longer channeled directly to the federal government budget, but rather to the subnational government budgets, it is no less a form of budget support. We are critical on the basis of the substance of the loan, not its formal labeling.

Oh, EACA. Picky, picky, picky.

But the EACA is rankled by something else. It ferreted out the bank’s February project information document, which I assume means a document that has information on a particular project. (I told you, genius resides amongst you.) In it, we are told why the PBS is not the bastard child of direct budgetary supplement. (Italics theirs, underlining mine.)

What sets the approach of the PBS apart from the previous modality of direct budget support, is the way in which the PBS operation will involve more timely and detailed reporting on the use of resources, explicit monitoring and oversight of the fairness of the transfers, monitoring of service delivery results at the Regional/sub-national levels rather than national levels, and the introduction of measures to encourage local accountability to support Government’s commitment to distribute resources for basic service delivery equitably.

(Haaaaa? “Government’s commitment to distribute resources for basic service delivery equitably”!!?? Is that like telling Tony Soprano, “Hey, ho. Ho, hey. Vinne “two fingers” Blundetto said to make sure you distribute his ‘contribution’ evenly between Carmella and all the rest of your gumbahs.”)

Okay, alright already! There will be strict monitoring of funds. We get it.

But… hold it, hold it… what is this on page three…?

While the PBS itself has no direct mechanism to influence choices made at the local government level, the preservation of resource flows for basic services should enable expansion in service coverage and incremental improvements in service quality.

Okay, now I am confused. Hhhh’watt? Whaddayamean the PBS has “no direct mechanism to influence choices made at local government level”, bud? But what happened to the stringent accountability we were promised? And what in the heck does “the preservation of resource flows for basic services should enable expansion in service coverage and incremental improvements in service quality” mean??

Me no likee economics.

Naturally, the EACA has questions about the “we can’t influence what happens with the money” part:

This statement is no longer present in the May version of the PID. Is that because the PBS has indeed been redesigned to [introduce] mechanisms for influencing budget choices, or is it structurally the same as the February conception of the PBS, on this point?

Goddamit. Does this mean that I have to read the May PID. Say no… say no… say no…

So let’s get this straight: after so much hype about accountability and transparency and how this is a completely different way of doing business, we are told that the bank has, really, no influence as to how local governments distribute the money? Then, someone at Dr. Diwan’s office realized we know how to… what do you call that thing… read, and xnayed that phrase. Hope they replaced it with examples of some of them crazy stringent requirements.

Not quite. Hmm. I don’t know about this Diwan feller. I just don’t know.

Okay. Bygones. I am sure after realizing the faux pas in the February PID the bank lays out a series of clearly thought out and specific ways to monitor the moolah. La-la-la. It does. It does. I refuse to believe it doesn’t.

So, how would the PBS make sure that, say, an Ato Demissew Sereqe, chairman of Asresh Michew district in Central Ethiopia does not “appropriate” X number of PBS dollars to a ‘water project’ located in, say, his backyard that kinda might resemble a swimming pool but not really? No doubt the bank is taking extra care of Americans’ tax money.

Weeeelll, not so much. EACA, care to opine?

... the document does not further elaborate what thresholds of divergence of actual spending patterns from budgeted allocations would set off a discontinuation of spending.

Huh? I read that as, “We all know the money is gonna be diverted, Diwan. Question is, do you have a threshold for what is acceptable divergence and unacceptable divergence of aid?” What would the Ethiopian government have to do with PBS money for Dr. Diwan to get unsettled? Let’s say Ato Demissew decides to add a cabana to that pool. Would that mean he won’t get money for the stainless steel outdoor grill his wife has been haranguing him about?

Goddamit. Now I really have to read the May PID.

Let’ see…. Open your books to the May PID, boys and girls, wet your thumb and start flipping… Country and Sector Background… Okay. Objectives… yadda.. yadda. Rationale for Bank Involvement… whatever. Description… four components … Ah! Component 3 on Financial Transparency and Accountability…Sit back. Enjoyyy.