Yes, But Have You Considered Stew?

I had a long post drafted about stew. This was for several reasons- in part to get the blog restarted after too long in hiatus, and also in response to some emails suggesting that I go back to more lifestyle content to lighten things up. And to have fun: writing about Important Stuff is all well and good but there is joy in the world in for me one of its important manifestations is through cuisine. I dream of tasting uni and collecting cookware the way some people dream about owning mansions or achieving fame.

But it was not to be. The computer managed to lose a soulful contemplation of the pleasures of stew that took me hours to draft. It is irretrievable from both the machine and my memory, sadly. Unlike writers of yore, those of us who depend on computers for our craft are clearly at risk of losing important piece of work at the blink of Tanesco or a hiccup from Sasatel. And boy do they blink and hiccup a lot. So this re-post is really in honor of Anonymous who alerted me to the fact that the first post was a dud. Here goes:

"there is no text."- Sorry, dog ate my homework.

"Is this an experiment?" No, but thanks for the idea...

"Well, hope you pay me, if it is."... you don't happen to be from Nairobi do you?

"And, yes, i have." Good for you. The contemplation of stew is a philosophical exercise everyone should attempt at least once. I would be interested in hearing your conclusions on the matter.

Three Weeks in October

So I just spent three extremely intensive weeks co-facilitating a course on social media for social change. Yup, helping do-gooding meddlers improve their communications strategies so that they can reach your mind, your heart and your wallet through the internet as well as traditional media. Empowerment, behavior change and social justice driven by the interwebs- you're excited, neh?

Of course- and I should have known this- turning a passion into work was wonderful. It also meant that I burned off my fun faculties and have had to take a media fast for the week. I think yesterday was the first day I comfortably got online and bushwhacked my way through the gmail inbox (only 40 unread emails, down from 400!). I like to keep a clean inbox, it calms me down. But back to the issue at hand: facilitating the adoption of social media for professional usage.

The best thing about this is how wide open the field is. Total playtime: there are formulae and best practices, but because this is social media they have to be customized and localized. There is a strong element of selection, design and creativity in social media that can only be 'learned' through use and individual strategy. That was the point of the course actually: to help the participants become social media stewards* for their organizations and then draft up as comprehensive a strategy as they could using free socmed platforms to enhance their work. That part went better than expected, but several of the participants raised a very relevant question that is still bothering me. What's the point when hardly anyone has access to the internet in the first place? We're talking developing SSA countries here, hardly connected to themselves let alone the internet.

This chart was supposed to contain all forms of media that we could think of. I knew we'd hit the jackpot when people threw in talking drums next to iPhones. Media is indivisible from its technology.

Made me toss and turn, that. Inappropriate technology? Was this course just jumping on yet another NGO world trend (socmed is SO HOT right now)? It's not like Tweeting will guarantee safe childbirth, or better pastoralist-agriculturalist relations. However, isn't that a bit like asking television to solve world hunger? A little perspective here: social media are just a communications tool like any other, enhanced by the fact that "target audiences" are not passive consumers of your grand ideas, they are active partners in a conversation and potential allies in action.

Here's the thing though: social media is riding in nicely on the wave of technology. Due to technology leapfrogging and our increasing prosperity in the next five to ten years there's going to be a lot more 3G phones, WiFi spots and assorted accoutrements in the hands of Africans than the poverty-obsessed would like to admit. It is politic, I think, to start creating the foundations for this form of literacy and world citizenship now lest we create a class of left-behinds out of a questionable desire to be 'relevant'. Local realities are always in flux, and when an NGO worker starts talking 'relevance' it too often means that someone is about to be heavily patronized. I don't happen to see any problem with discussing equitable access to technology as well as clean water, and reasonable food prices. Simultaneously.

So yes indeed: what's the point of being a social media pusher in SSA when there's Al Shabaab and drought and run-away petroleum prices to contend with? Ask me again in ten years, hey. But I'll give you a hint: Nokia gets it. Google's found a clue. M-Pesa, Ushahidi, the list grows on. Social media is a wonderfully capacious bandwagon, it's probably not a bad idea to get as many people on there as possible. Yes, even Africans.

Don't Know What You've Got Till Its Gone?

"One key question for example is why mainstream women and feminist groups are happy to claim Wangari Maathai and Wambui Otieno now when they did the opposite at the times when both were most challenging gender dynamics and the patriarchy."- Jetsetter.

I have some ideas, but let's start with the Vandana Shiva thing: her ecofeminist philosophy has certainly influenced me and continues to do so. However after watching her during an IDS speakers series I realized we have bad chemistry. There are a number of men and women whose work I admire immensely, but whose person I can't really stand. And there are a number of "controversial" types whom I find immensely to my liking. What to do?

Re Maathai and Otieno, complicated. I see a combination of factors: part of it is just Kenya, which has its own rules about what happens to people who take on the patriarchy. Another stems from the conservative habits of the 'sisterhood': conformity matters, don't rock the boat, women are the transmitters of tradition even when those traditions work against them, women are rarely rewarded for individualism esp. in SSA where that is seen as getting above yourself or trying to be like a man... and so on down the list. And the worst sin of all: aggression. Displaying aggression in public on the part of a woman is still a huge no-no.

So when women come along who break these rules in pursuit of something different, perhaps better perhaps not, they don't get lauded as the strong leaders that a man might be in a similar situation. They get cast in the role of villain, get called 'crazy' or any other form of deviance that will stick. Only the ones whose spirits remain unbroken who survive to eventually become feminist icons (preferably after their controversial selves have departed this life). The implication being that we like our feminists quiet, or dead, broadly speaking. Heh- broadly speaking...

But if we get deeper into this, each SSA country has its internal dynamic on how they handle women of power. Some do better than others.

The Passions of Old Soldiers

So with the fall of Ghaddafi, my interest in the peculiarities of African despots has been reignited. One of the duties of an accomplished African despot is to develop a quirk that is so...so... well, that it leaves observers speechless. It is hard to outdo the ones who have gone before, between Mobutu and Bokassa the standard has been set extremely high. But this is a vast continent with many countries and there are plenty of interesting behaviors to be observed. Obvious things like gold fixtures in the palace bathrooms are de rigueur and cannot win you points- one must aim for originality where possible.

Not all artistic yearnings must be vulgar either: I just found out today by eavesdropping on some folks' Twitter conversation that Museveni apparently sings to his cattle*. And that he does so slightly ineptly. The thing about despots is that you have to resist the urge to humanize them because then you start rolling down the slippery slope of empathy... but this is a rather appealing hobby to have. Not to mention stylish: it takes a certain cultural refinement to embrace difficult and dying old artforms. Sigh.

Ghaddafi, on the other hand. What a disappointment. It's like we've seen this movie before: the tasteless palace, the defiant son, the delusions of grandeur, the parting of company with reality. For a guy who has literally pitched his tent everywhere to the delight of people who appreciate small acts of defiance, I was expecting something really rather interesting. But not this interesting. Ghaddafi's crush on Condoleeza Rice was... is... wow. And here I thought the Jheri Curl was the worst of it.

A man's image cannot survive certain revelations about his character.

*Cattle singing is a gorgeous old practice with a whole history behind it and I have always wanted to know more. Anyone know of resources out there?

This Writing Life: How Bloggers Can Cheat

Hello! Sorry about the silence, total inspiration collapse in the past few days. I have a sneak preview for you, as a peace offering. Well, it is only kind of a sneak preview since I reheated some leftovers for The East African in an effort not to blow my deadline. Barely squeaked through. But since I did cross-post between the two platforms, here's a bit of what's coming for budget week:

"Every year during the pre-budget frenzy, the conversation is usually being held far above the civilian’s head. Civil society watchdogs want the government to do this or that particular thing, the donors suspect that something fishy is going on but are prevented by the rules of international relations from saying so directly, and the government is busy performing a very delicate and graceful balancing act to keep everybody happy- especially itself. The Tanzania Revenue Authority is the only institution that cares quite directly about the taxpayer, and that is the one institution that nobody wants anywhere near them."

The idea originally was to do a riff on the famous "death and taxes" statement and then somehow stuff other subjects into the article- donors and their role in our governance structures, what does it mean when civilians are treated as recipients and not really seen as healthy contributors to the national project, civil society's watchdogging, individual agency, and the fact that nobody willingly pays public officials- especially when you know that your government is corrupt...

But, you know, it's only 800 words. I had to get a grip on reality.

Truth be told, I find blogging much easier that columning. Blogging is relaxed, like throwing on a favorite pair of jeans and a crisp white t-shirt. Writing a column, on the other hand, is like constantly panicking about your business formal attire. This week, I caved in and reworked an old blogpost idea for the column, which I suppose is like wearing the white t-shirt under your jacket and pairing sneakers with your pinstripes. I'm sure it'll happen again, when the deadline is breathing down my neck. So that explains the title of the post: this is how a blogger can get away with feeding her column reheated leftovers.

Technically speaking, it is not exactly a cheat. People do it all the time- recycle the same content across various outlets. It has it's uses, but in principle I'm not a fan since I am obsessed by the idea of Original Content. One of the writers whom I admire tremendously offers OC across a mind-boggling number of platforms. And if I ever grow up, I want to be just like that.

On False Advertising: The Rapture

Y'all have to understand: I was raised High Catholic. For real. Since those kooks in New York have been nattering on about The Rapture this and The Rapture that, all my demons have come out to play. The seven horsemen of the Apocalypse, the Chosen ones, the triple six and Nostradamus- been there, read that, amongst other things. Dan Brown has nothing on the crazier corners of Catholic psychosis.

It has been a long journey, lapsing from all the Hail Marys and learning how to live without the scent of frankinscense and myrrh, and not an easy one. So here's my beef: why raise all those expectations of The Rapture- only the most feared and anticipated event in Christiandom, ever- only to drop the ball at the last minute? sSomeone needs to be sued for false advertising. I want my anxiety back, every last minute I spent scouring my soul and prematurely making peace with God. And while you irresponsible prophets of doom are at it, catch a clue: market research is a good thing.

Social Media as a Tool for Social Change Brought Me Here

Yes indeed, what am I doing so far away from home? It came out of the blue, really, I was parachuted into a seminar about socmed and social change in Nairobi at the eleventh hour. It was a meet organized by the MEDIaE research project. Also: Kenya. Like I said, I wanted to take a peek at what's cooking in the region's communications power center, maybe make some friends.

Based on what I learned, I think that the occasional pilgrimage to Nairobi as well as a regional tour whenever money and time allows is probably de rigueur for the serious EA socmedian. The seminar was very interesting- there is no way that I can capture the breadth of information that was presented. Here are some things that stood out, in no particular order:

- February 28th was a watershed moment. The "my country first" attitude is the default position in Tanzania so I didn't pay much attention at the time. Hearing about it from a Kenyan opened my eyes... I got my first hint of an idea that's going to show up in the next post.

- I can now confirm my suspicion that Nairobi and Dar es Salaam are on different planets when it comes to social media. Content, reach, quality, approach, politics, preferred forms of media- you name it, we are each walking our own paths. What unites us most is the mobile phone, I guess. We've got a lot to teach each other, but make no mistake: two very dissimilar markets.

- Speaking of mobile phones and marketing... the Nokia presentation was very interesting. Let me put it this way: if you live in EA and have a limited budget for a handset, they might just be the friend you're looking for. And no, I am not getting paid to say that, I just like EA-centric merchandize.

- Check out these numbers. Statistics are always good, and yes they can be used by people other than marketers who are trying to embed their product in your cerebral cortex. Arm yourself with knowledge.

- There was a lot of concern about policing social media content for "quality." This made me worry, actually. It's one thing to hear from your government that they support the idea of censorship, but to hear if from socmedians? Unexpected.

- Erm. I spotted a generational difference in approaches to/thinking about socmed and media in general. But age ain't nothing but a number, as one of the participants- I'll call him Mzee Poa- reminded me. It's in the attitude.

- Content producers were thin on the ground. It was interesting to hear from organizations that use social media with clear transformative agendas, but it did make me wonder. What, if any, is the value attached to free-range social media content producers? The bloggers especially, who are working in a longer form and not necessarily trying to sell you on mosquito nets, or local government meetings, or anything in particular really. Is there space for... dare I say it... simply expressing? That's a real question by the way, if you have an opinion I would love to know in the comments section.

Post-meeting networking and here I am today enjoying the iHub's fast internet connection thanks to my new buddy Daudi Were. Who has promised to send me a list of Kenyan blogs I should be reading, si ndiyo? It is a comfortable space in the way that only Web-obsessed people can create: couches, coffee, a million power outlets, suits and ties are probably banned. I am out of my depth- there's techies around doing that stuff that they do so that tech-challenged people like me can sort-of use the web. But I'm getting a bit of a notion that Bongo could use something like this...

Nairobi: it's been tight. Keep fresh, I'll be back soon I hope. Peace. TMR out.

Shiver.

I am in Nairobi in the hopes of learning a little something about social media from the Kenyan scene. It's pretty exciting actually- in regional terms the social media scene doesn't get any bigger than this and hearing from Kenyans about how they go about it is an opportunity I could not pass up. Might tweet or blog interesting tidbits if I get the green light. Oh, in case you ever despair of being a broke and ignored blogger in Bongo, listen: there's folks out there looking for people to throw money at. It's a good time to be a social median, know what I mean?

In case you're wondering about the title, I have been shivering since I set foot on KQ and don't expect to warm up again until I am back in Bongo. No doubt about it, I have the physical temperament of a swamp rat. I have to say though, the city is impressive. Bright lights, paved roads... public parks with green manicured lawns. Hey Nairobians, what say we exchange city council members for about five years, eh? You can have all of our mayors for free, however many we're afflicted with, and you don't have to give them back either. In fact, just go ahead and keep them- they make wonderful living sculptures for public spaces but we have a surplus of that going on in our government offices.

Oh, I have noticed that almost everybody speaks Kiswahili these days. Cool.*

For a bit of fun, I tested the Tanzanian Charm Offensive on a couple of folks today. Immigration guy fell for it, he even welcomed me to the country with an "enjoy your stay" - after silent treatmenting the two Kenyans ahead of me in the line. The taxi rank guys practically gave me celebrity VIP treatment. The taxi driver, however, was thoroughly immune. I have to say, Nairobians are a little susceptible to the TCO. Johannesburg was much, much tougher- especially those angry people who insisted on speaking to us in Zulu even after we told them we weren't Safrican. Dude. A lot of latent anger going on down there. But then again, I am not sure they knew exactly where Tanzania is. **

I have got to get to Kampala, Bujumbura and Kigali soon...

*Cool because that means that on average Nairobians are bi or trilingual at the basic minimum. Which is always better than only operating in one language of business.

** It's that huge landmass that you fly over on your way to your holiday in Zanzibar on the non-stop SAA flight. :) Sorry, but that's what you get for saying that you're going to "Efrika" every time you contemplate travelling north of the Limpopo. Aw hell, there goes my SA visa eligibility...

Do It Yourselfness

Hi. So I have been sitting on this post forever because I couldn't figure out how to dump a whole bunch of links in one place and make them thematically consistent. But now I really have to close the tabs on my browser, so I have settled on Do It Yourselfness. It's my favorite attitude in the world: the intentional grasping of whatever you got in hand in order to create (or try) something that you want to see done.

So my top hit do-it-yourselfer is here. I asked a question about Tanzanian hip-hop, politics, gender issues and poverty and got such an awesome answer that I was partly sold on the whole hip hop thing. There's nothing like getting the low-down from an inside man. In the same vein,here is some free content addressing the Arab Spring and stuff. Look for the music breaks.

This event is another gem from some of my favorite do-it-yourselfers: Pen&Mic is back at Saffron, second edition. I missed the first one and have been virtually excommunicated. So I will be at the second one (that'll be me in the corner downing brandy and stroking egos). But on a serious note: this stuff is the good stuff. Don't miss. 7:30 until late, Saffron Restaurant, bring your art if you can.

Ah, Ariana. Miz Huffington did indeed build her online newspaper from a do-it-yourself perspective. Pity about her morals and ethics. So the lesson here is: don't give your content for free unless it's your blog. Otherwise you'll get Huffingtoned.

Every so often I get a call to go out and spend a pleasant hour or two "helping" baby activists get their blogging skills on point. I'll say this much: it is surprisingly hard to actually set up a blog and write one consistently, especially if there's a group involved. These guys might be rough around the edges, but I think they are getting the hang of doing it themselves. Content and design. Go team go!

And then there's this little scuffle in Bunge, which delighted me. They do say watch out for the quiet ones. Trevor Noah is by no means a quiet one, my goodness that guy makes political incorrectness irresistible. Watch out for the little inappropriate moment at the end.

To cap it off with a bang: I read a lot of stuff about Africa trying to puzzle out the blanket "governance problem". I tend not to agree with most of it, and I really have a hard time finding whose thinking rings true. But David Booth? He's definitely onto something. And it's not the same-old-same-old either.

And because not to mention it would be a shame: William Easterly recently accepted Feminism as his personal savior. I'm going to take a flying leap over all the things that I could say in response to a powerful white man in the development sector coming to Jesus at such a late stage in his life, because someone else is sure to do it far better. Instead I want to point out one thing: one key difference between a male feminist and a man who thinks he's a feminist but isn't is the temerity to defend this political stance against "your own." Easterly has a long way to go in his induction to the -ism, but I'll celebrate his breaking this glass ceiling.

Content sourcing: hat tip to Shurufu and Swahili Street twitterfeeds and a few others (sorry! I forget! tabs open too long!). Raspberries to La Dee for finding that awesomely terrible Trevor Noah clip. If I never get another visa to the States it's your fault.

Nearly Ten Years Down The Line

Strange day. When I woke up to the news that Osama Bin Laden had kicked the bucket with a little help from American special forces, I guess I was hoping to feel something more than surprise. Instead, I find myself far more interested in the circumstances surrounding his capture, execution and subsequent burial at sea than in the outpouring of joy or relief that seems to be taking place around the world. It didn't help that Tanesco sprang a surprise day-long cut on the neighborhood, so I have been outside of the newsloop for the day. I appreciated the quiet, and to be honest one hour of international outlet footage has pretty much suggested that this is not a complex story with any nuances to be had (yet).

Osama bin Laden has been the most infamous international villain of our recent times, a man who clearly reveled in having the blood of innocents on his hands. That pretty much spells EVIL in any language. I regret that I did not study his grievances against the world in great detail. The particular insanities of despots and powermongers aren't my favorite reading material, but still- information is always good to have. If nothing else, some insight into his politics would have been handy.

I do find it gratifying that someone welched on bin Laden- finally! Impressive as the secrecy around his whereabouts has been, to be honest I was beginning to wonder if he had quietly perished somewhere and was being "kept alive" by judicious al-Qaeda militants for PR purposes. As a pacifist, I can't say that I approve of his execution- I do prefer trials followed by life in jail so that despots can savor the bitter fall from power - but I can't seem to care about the matter. Whatever.

The details that really intrigue me are:

1. He was close to the elite Pakistani military training base? Talk about a diplomatic disaster. There is no way in hell Pakistan's authorities can pretend they didn't know about his presence there with any credibility. The implications are veeeeery interesting (stroking double chin).

2. I wonder who got the thirty pieces of silver, and why now. I wonder about their safety and that of their family. And, like, do they have to pay taxes on that?

3. Okay: special forces, a bullet through the skull and burial at sea- talk about no loose ends. The burial at sea? Now that's interesting. I can understand the wisdom of denying his supporters a grave or a body to turn into a pilgrimage point. He's been fed to the fishes, mafia-style. Whether he was actually buried according to the tenets of his faith? That's something for the US military's PR department to handle...

The message being sent today by America is a strong one: we won't rest until you're a dead enemy of the state, legalities be damned. Well, Osama did want to die in battle and I see that he and the US were able to accommodate each other in the matter of his demise. I get the sense that no one is going to quibble because, seriously? Yeah. Is his death "a major setback to terrorist organizations around the world" as the international press is reporting? That remains to be seen. But I have a feeling that we're not out of the woods. Yet. And to be honest again, that's what I really care about, in the end.

Bad Air

Twenty-plus years of total immunity didn't prepare me for this event. Hoooo-yay, did that plasmodium get me good! I'm talking about malaria, that putrid parasite from hell. This disease is beyond nastiness- of all the ailments I have ever had this is the only one that I would gladly trade for a full-technicolor effects aches-and-shakes migraine headache.

Like most absurdly healthy people, I am an absolute horror when sick. Stoic to the point of stupidity, I spent at least two days reading up on malaria when someone suggested it might be the cause of my stomach ache rather than go to the hospital. After all, it never happened to me, right? Right. I even had the gall to sweat through my liver exploding- twice- rather than admit that I might have to go for a simple. Fricking. Test. Because it doesn't happen to me, right? Right.

Let me tell you what it feels like when those little buggers explode out of your liver. It feels like maybe you have a mild stomach ache at first- kinda like a gas bubble, right up high by your diaphragm. Then it brings The Pain. The Pain is like a supernova has gone off inside your body. It's a cross between the evillest period cramp on earth and a sword thrust through your gut. It's like being vivisected without anasthesia. I was soaked in a cold and clammy sweat, but the high pain threshold withheld the mercy of passing out. So did I heed the advice I was given? No, because I don't get malaria, right? Right.

Yeah.

Well, this story pretty much ends with me availing myself of Tanga's private clinic services on a fine Saturday morning. I threw in the towel, went to get tested and endured what has got to be the slowest and most disinterested medical service on the face of the planet*. Four prescriptions and 25,000 shillings later, it was time to ponder the wisdom of my health policies. What I learned is this: no sane person actually lets their liver explode twice. And: sweet Jesus, children under five are the most vulnerable to this fresh hell? Oh no :(

And finally: thank God for modern medicine. I love it. I love the little yellow pills that take the pain away, and I love the fat white pills that take the pain and the fever away. I love my cantankerous doctor who didn't even check if there were contra-indications with the drugs I told him I was using to treat the stomach ache that wasn't a stomach ache, even though combining them might have killed me (he neglected to say stop using the other ones). I love the slow-ass pharmacist who took forever to get me the pills. The happy, happy pills that took all that pain away. I love the impressively patient people who cajoled/bullied me back to health. I love the trees, I love the air, I love hearing music even though I think I might still be missing a few tones because something went funny when I started taking the pills. I love life, even if my limbs are too weak to do much for the next week or so.

You want to know what love is? Love is the absence of pain. Simple, but true. And that's a lesson I got from malaria. I guess I love malaria too. This might be the delirium talking.

*I am ashamed to say it, but at one point I was ready to elbow a sick old lady and a couple with an evidently feverish child out of my way to get to the doctor before he disappeared for yet another tea break or whatever the (expletive deleted) doctors on duty do when they aren't treating the people who have been waiting for them all (expletive deleted) morning. It got that feral.

So, That's How It's Done!

I have just seen about seven hours of my life go skipping merrily past while I find out the most incredibly fascinating things about Japanese society and culture. Why? Oh, that's a long story for another rainy day.

But on the feminist/gender studies tip I found this nugget and I thought that it is too good not to share:

[In ancient times, Japanese women wielded considerable authority. Until the eleventh century, it was common for Japanese girls to inherit their parent’s house. The rise of Confucianism and a conservative moral movement that preached the inferiority of women in the early eighteenth century significantly reduced women’s role. In some respects, Japanese women today have less power in society than they did a thousand years ago. Fewer than one in ten Japanese managers is female; women in less-industrialized nations, like Mexico and Zimbawe, are twice as likely to be managers. Only 2.3 percent of Japan’s key legislative body are women, compared with 10.9 percent in the U.S. House of Representatives. In this regard, Japan ranks 145 in a list of 161 countries, according to the Inter-Parliamentary Union.

[The public gender roles, however, are reversed when one steps inside the Japanese home. Typically, the wife handles and completely controls the household finances. She gives her husband a monthly allowance and has total control over the rest of the family income. Half of the husbands in one survey reported they were dissatisfied with the size of their allowance, but could do little if anything about it. While the husband and wife may have a joint bank account and automatic teller machines are available, wives often do not share access to these with their husbands (Kristoff 1996b). (Editor)].

Fascinating isn't it to actually have a record of how gender roles ebb and flow with time, the intrusions of religion and other cultures and economic reorganization? Sometimes it is hard to get out of my own Western bias when thinking about feminism and gender, even though I don't necessarily think this is the best model when looking at, say, Tanzania. But looking eastward (especially skipping right past India's caste system and anywhere that falls under the thrall of the Torah/Bible/Koran) often gives me more "aha!" moments than reading stuff from the West. Go figure.

And how about that bit about the iron-handed housewives, wasn't that a little unexpected? I love the contrast. Nothing is ever as it appears at first glance...

The rest of the article can be found here if you have a spare fifteen minutes to go culture-tripping.

The Stalker: A Local Story of a Woman Who Gets Called By Her Phone.

Oh yeah- leapfrogging. When a technology is adopted so late in the game that the adopter skips merrily past the costs and technological constraints of earlier models of said technology and arrive fresh at the very edge of things. In East Africa, we have leapt the frog on mobile phones and mobile banking. With the right provider you can pay anyone, find out anything and practically fly any plane with your trusty little made-for-EA Nokia (warranty provided in Kiswahili and English). What's not to like?

Well. My phone has started calling me. To be more specific, my mobile phone service provider has started calling me directly. It all started out innocently enough: Bharti Airtel, the Company Formerly Known as Zain, Formerly Known as Celtel, added a nifty new feature. Every time I made a call, it would let me know how many of my Shillings I'd just tossed their way and my balance. No problemo, for those of us on prepaid it's a handy way to keep track of things.

Then, whenever I would send a text message, the phone would let me know how much it had cost me and efficiently suggest that I send a couple more texts to tap into their gajillion-free-sms a day promotion. Alrighty then, I thought- nothing wrong with a suggestion or two. After all, I am already their customer, right? How nice of them to "save" me some money.

Then one day I made the mistake of checking the day's exchange rate. The next day, I was considerately sent a text with the exchange rate for the currency I had checked up on. Shades of Big Brother, but okay. There was an escape clause (so I thought): you could send the word STOP to their five-digit code. So I did. And lo and behold, the next day I got the exchange rate text again. So I said STOP again. And lo and behold, the next day... you get where this is going don't you.

So now, I get the daily text message I do not want. Every time I talk on the phone I get an instant replay after disconnecting. And every time I text message, the little cheerleader that lives in my phone gets a sugar rush and starts yelling at me to send More! More! More! I thought that this is about as bad as it can get.

Until the day my phone called me. I picked up, thinking that a long local number like this might be attached to a potentially lucrative networking/work connection. "Hello?" I went with Professional Voice- alert and friendly but slightly cool to the touch. Silence. Then the pre-recorded message in Universally Annoying Female Voice began. I had just been cold-called by an android from my phone company to sell me services that I don't want. This, in addition to their newfangled habit (borrowed from Vodacom) of dropping your calls mid-conversation for the fun of it.

No one wants to be called by their phone. Ever. What's next, refrigerators that purse their lips in disapproval every time you reach in for just one "last" slice of chocolate cake?

How marketing departments come up with such evil schemes, I do not know. But there is a special circle of hell for them in the eternal inferno where they are hung upside down with their heads in a boiling river of fire and angry customers pelt them with early-model mobile phones while yelling "One minute for a third of a Shilling!" and "Hallo! Hallo! We Nani? Mzee Juma yupo? Kwani we ni nani?"

Goings Ons

I meant to update the blog but you know what they say about Good Intentions. I had a thingy written up for April Fool's day, and another thingy about women's work and then I thought maybe tackle politics again or something then I got distracted by the offline life and that was that. As a peace offering, here's some stuff I have been marinating that hasn't made it to blogpos/rant status yet. I thought I'd put them down as questions and take the "social" bit of social media for a spin:

1. Have you ever noticed that women are excluded from the streetlife and Kijiwe culture? What do you think about that, and what it does for women's participation in politics/public life? What is a woman's work in this decade, anyways?

2. So there's oil in Zanzibar, and gas and stuff, that's going to be explored anytime now. To share revenue, or not to share revenue- now that's the questin? Apparently natural resources are not a Union matter. I want to hear from the Mainlanders: fair? Not fair?

3. Speaking of: is anyone still interested in dissolving the Union? I mean a Mainland movement, since Zanzibar hasn't exactly been shy about telling us exactly where we can shove our Muungano these past couple of years.

One new development with the blog is that I have recently begun to sell my soul at roughly 800 words a week to the East African. Cross-pollination between media or something of the sort. I tried to keep it under wraps for a while since I'm still figuring out how this thing works (ie. surviving frequent deadline-induced panic attacks). Now that I think about it, trying to be undercover about writing a weekly column in a regional newspaper is not the brightest idea I have ever had. So I'm coming clean... for accountability's sake ;) And on that note, I have homework to do and bail-money to save up for so let me get cracking.

TMF Forum Liveblog: Observations from the SocMed Corner

Speeches. Very good ones, but I have sadly missed out on the names so you'll have to forgive me.

Looking around, there is a very interesting mix of people in this room- perhaps not what you might expect. There are: veteran journalists giving the benefit of their experience, a group of young turkeys in the corner tapping away and demanding that everybody retweet (yes, Shurufu, we're on it), a table of people who could only be donors, I spot the BBC World Trust, politicians, a couple of Kenyan accents and some lightscameraaction! going on. Very eclectic, and then again perhaps exactly what one would expect from this kind of gathering.

Multimedia has become such a part of our lives, but you should see the production that goes into getting content out. Between fighting over space for your adapter on the never-enough extensions that are provided, asking each other who that is on the microphone so we don't misspell their name, grasping the point of a rambling speaker so you can condense and write it up accurately? Si mchezo.

Some Days.

I was watching the news this morning, getting my daily dose of Grim Shit From Around The World when I stumbled across a reporter for BBC in Tripoli who was talking to a Libyan supporter of the coalition thingy that's trying to oust Ghaddafi. After about five minutes of listening to this guy herding his interviewee into a coalition-friendly sound-bite (dude was only too happy to oblige) I heard him ask "...so do you think that this means that Libya will have to be split into two: Western and Eastern Libya?"

That's when I switched off the TV. There was something horribly formulaic about the whole thing. See Developing Nation. See Developing Nation's Despot. See Younger Generation revolting. See Despot Refuse to Relinquish Power. Watch Revolt collapse. See International Intervention. Watch World Leaders Double-Speak. Entertain self by noting which words chosen by International News Media to headline story: Disaster. Crisis. Revolt. Uprising. Coalition. Nato. Unrest. Opposition.

And this after they switched to a report about Japanese mothers in Tokyo who have been told not to give their young babies tap-water because of radioactive pollution? News: the 24-hour cycle of doom for those who are addicted to misery and fear.

TV dead, off I went to do my toilette where I discovered My First White Hair. Crisis! Disaster! Uprising! Let me tell you: this media-watching/development grinching work thingy that I do has an inbuilt negativity to it. The posts and articles I have been producing lately seem to be coming from a rather dark and dissatisfied state of mind. Obsessing about local politics and the odd international news story was never supposed to overtake the blog like this. So I'm rolling it back a little, time to recalibrate.

I'm battling not to read anything too pessimistic into the fact that Tanesco hasn't rationed power so far this week. I'm admittedly glad about a couple of other bits of good news, such as the fact that Dawasco water has been spotted for the first time in two months in our neighborhood. And the fact that the CCM Youth League actually look like they might take on the old guard in the coming year or so. And the fact that because there's electricity my barber was able to take care of a little problem for me today. So all is well with the world again, especially since I won't be staring at my Disaster, Death and Crisis Media-Induced White Hair of Despair for at least the next two weeks.

Fresh Catch From the Webtrawler

I need to close some tabs on the browser again, so let me get this post done. And if you sent in a link, thank you. You know who you are. Anyways, here's the most recent catch of interest from the Intertubes:

From the world of development: I love that sometimes when you have a tiny idea and you can't quite articulate it... someone out there is more likely than not to have done a bit of thinking and writing on it that elucidates. Anyways, I have long ribbed economists for hogging more than their fair share of the development discourse and made the argument that we need more social scientists. Here is an excellent example of social science work with real ramifications. And here is a very nice piece about politics and development. This here is a more general discussion of interdisciplinary and culturally appropriate approaches to development.

In other news, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie had this to say about Nigerian politics and the lead up to their upcoming elections. I like her writing and I wish the article had been a bit longer.

From the wild and whacky world of social media: how has Twitter changed our political behavior? I would say that this article overstates things a bit, but it's got nice graphs. Speaking of pretty pictures: here is an effort from the Uwezo/Twaweza complex that certainly gives food for thought. It's a great site for playing around with info, but remember to keep an eye out as they do herd you towards some very obvious conclusions...

Another group of people seeking to influence your mind are... you guessed it! The US military is on a Facebook page near you! Lol. I love the way the science fiction of my youth and the realities of my adult life seem to be coming together nicely. Truth? Fiction? Can you tell anymore? Am I even alive? Maybe I'm a web-app. But do I dream of electric sheep?... I could do this all day :) And so the week starts...

Egypt and Other Problems

Day 11. Mubarak is hanging on to "power" by the skin of his preternaturally black hair. International news agencies most worried about the effect of Egypt's crisis on the Suez canal and thus (of course) on the price of oil. African despots are tough old birds- like Mugabe he is utterly unfazed by the unreasonableness of his inaction in the face of extreme unpopularity. How long is it going to take the protesters to turf him out? I thought one week, tops. Now I am not so sure Mubarak is actually going to lose this face-off anytime soon.

Was following a brief conversation on Twitter recently when one Twitterer...Tweep (?) asked whether what was happening in Egypt could happen in Tanzania, and the other Tweep said "no." I'm inclined to agree- I can't imagine an incumbent here surviving such a prolonged moral siege. Our system isn't geared quite that way. What do y'all think? I have to mention though, that as a method of regime change this new wave of protests is a wonderful step up from the more traditional assassinations/military coups/"liberation" movements/fillial successions of yore.

So, this power rationing has wreaked havoc- havoc, I tell you!- with the blogging. It's like Tanesco has a special punishment list and Mikocheni Business is at the top of it. I don't know who is getting all our extra power, whoever you are I hope you are enjoying it...

Speaking of chakachua, get this: two or so weeks into the release of the new notes and folks are complaining that there are fake notes already in circulation. So soon, so soon after the elections. Which begs the question- how come we were printing new money around the elections to begin with? Hmmm.

Corruption Studies.

So, I was linking from the Beeb in my last post and I noticed another link in the sidebar. It's an interesting to investigate the relationship between voting habits and general malfeasance.

Not to be cynical or anything, but why on earth would general elections directly and permanently affect something as deeply embedded in our social system as corruption? Patronage and "borrowing" public goods is a way of life for us, as burdensome and inescapable as the rules that govern our wedding planning committees and our propensity to garland new graduates in Christmas tinsel. It's not like we can conjure a clean government out of thin air and stick them in the corridors of power (where their morality is likely to decay anyways). Because the new government would be made up of Tanzanians and we like to keep our ethics loose and easy.

I would contend that corruption per se, while immensely annoying, isn't really why most of us are pissed off at the government. The chafe, the burn comes from observing inequality which is aided in no small part by the growth of our economy. Someone somewhere at one time or another told us we are all entitled- entitled!- to "development" and prosperity. Schools, roads, fair wages and straight roads, western medicine, the works. Heh. As Tanzania discovers more and more ways to exploit her natural and human resources, she's also discovering all the classic methods of avoiding redistribution: dodgy contracts, overpaid politicians, a shameful lack of public accountability, obfuscating language, brown-envelope journalism, pyramid schemes, briefcase NGOs, the bottomless pit of donor funds, our predatory Tanzania Revenue Authority...

Man, in the 1980s and early 1990s when no one had anything of course we got along well. Nyerere did get that right as rain: across-the-board poverty makes for excellent social cohesion. No one was going to snitch on the one person in the street who had a TV/VCR because we'd all go there to get news of the world/watch smuggled tapes of The Cosby Show.

These days Tanzanians are learning that it's hard to love thy neighbor when thy neighbor has managed to accumulate enough money to be oppressively rich while you flail around in your maze of economic destitution lamenting every rise in the price of petrol. Does it matter to you if thy neighbor's money was earned legitimately? No, because the socialist hangover means that we don't believe in such a thing as legitimate wealth. Besides, until TV and edutainment came along there was a certain element of invisibility to our inequality. Now we can watch each other and simmer with resentment. And the downside is, that socialist hangover has given us a sense of entitlement that is stupendous in its scope. No one milks a relative/slight acquaintance/complete stranger with less shame than a Tanzanian. Many of us believe that actually working for your money is an oppressively bourgeois capitalist exploitative concept. Squish the rich, let us all languish in egalitarian mediocrity seems to be the underlying philosophy.

Here's a bit of fun. Next time you are sitting next to someone who is frothing at the mouth about corruption, ask them politely when was the last time they bribed a traffic cop/bought goods that "fell off the truck" at Shoprite or Game, got an obscenely lucrative contract or job because their uncle's cousin's sister's best friend was in the selection committee... and watch the diatribe fizzle out. We're all in the mix somehow, complicit to the teeth and guilty as charged. It's a particularly fun game to play with civil servants, by the way :) No one squirms harder than a Tanzanian government employee deflecting insinuations of dirty deeds...

There is an obvious cure for corruption actually. We could all live a little more ethically and stop blaming the nebulous "They" for our troubles. The cumulative effects would probably be quite radical. But thousands of years of religion, philosophy and politics haven't managed to iron out the kinks of human nature and social competition so... maybe science will manage it?Bring on The Matrix!

Going Bureaucrazy

I don't know about this official documentation/regulation business. On the one hand, imagine the possibilities for social research if we could insert a tracking and recording device under the skin of every forearm in the country so that we could track, record, document and interpret information about everyone, everywhere, all the time. We should start with politicians as an expendable experimental grou... uh, I mean pilot study population.

On the other hand, being documented is a pain in the ass. There is constantly something expiring, being lost, being required that I do not have and that takes forever to chase down: Taxpayer Identification Number (s), Vehicle Registration, Annual Road Licence, Insurance (s), Driver's License, Voter's Card, Passport, Biometric Passport for the USA, Birth Certificate, Travel Health Card, Original Documents for the Driver's License, High School Diploma, Certifications and Degrees on paper, Various certificates of religious sacraments (can't find a single one. hmmm), Luku Receipts (just in case), DAWASCO receipts (for Operation Kata Maji), Housing Contracts, Library Card(s), Video Library Card (s), Student Cards, Social Security Card (you never know), Simcards, Client Contracts, Bank Cards, Mobile Phone Registration Forms, Application for another piece of plastic with my face on it, Register this, Renew that, Something Always on The Verge Of Expiring Especially If You Need It To Travel Next Week, paper, plastic, photobooths and forms, always carry a pen, you need a pen to live...If done right, you can easily accumulate your own weight in paper trails over a lifetime. Which is why I loved this piece when I saw it here. Click to enlarge the pix.


Few things in Bongoland can cause more confusion, distress, loss of money and time and sanity than trying to get the right document in a timely manner from an official through legal means. But today, I won! Take that mister traffic cop, all my paperwork is watertight :)

By the way, is it just me or would this make a perfect torture chamber to lock bad bureaucrats in when they have been mean? Question for the artist, perhaps.