Over the past few years, I have tried to sort out my career priorities and the merits of each. Essentially, I want long-term employment that allows me to travel. I want my curiosity – a bottomless resource – to be exploited by whoever may find it useful. I want my interests and experience in particular subjects to grow and expand. I would not mind becoming an “expert” in a few specific topics. My two keys to this “dream situation” have been journalism and development. Both, I continue to realize, have large limitations.
I was taking photos of the watering hole at the bottom of this post when a young Somali-Kenyan grabbed my camera and told me to leave. I was not taking pictures of his animals or of his living space and family. I was solely focused on getting a shot of the small sized-lake which was, surprisingly, brimming with water. My host told the man off and later recounted that there were certain expectations of wazungu – mostly that we were of American CIA origins. Particularly women since they are easier to trust with information. Apparently the BBC Somali Service, inevitably, implants certain ideas about Western cultures through reporting on American invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq.
While not shaken by the incident – this seems to happen increasingly to me – I am frustrated by the overall setting. I am a foreigner in a country I am not always welcome in. My job – reporting on whatever may be around me – is often challenged by the fact that local populations do not want to be a part of the process. I can’t blame them, I would not want to be either. I can’t speak Somali; I am a woman. Despite being dressed in full Somali female garb, I am not readily accepted. As the wars continue in Iraq and Afghanistan, I remain a threat because of my skin color and foreign accent. Of course, all these facts are unsurprising. However, in the long-run, I can’t help but think that the closing of foreign media offices hopefully leading to more local stringers working on an international scale is a great development in media. This equation, though, leaves me out of a job.
The following day, I conducted a series of interviews in the Abakore Primary School. We were talking to students who had transitioned from mobile schools in the bush to the mainstream establishments. Two girls and two boys showed up for the interview. As it was my responsibility to gather and develop their stories, I asked them a series of questions in English, translated into Somali. The children though, partially terrified of my accent, foreign mannerism and white skin, were not keen on answering. Despite being pressed by their Somali interpreters, they remained mute for the most basic of questions. So, field-visits in development also have their limitations – once again, by the default of my skin color and accent, I alienate myself from getting any work done. I also become superfluous to the whole process. Perhaps that’s something foreigners working in host countries need to be reminded of regularly: we are not essential for anything. We’re just a part of the wheel – one that often causes other things to break down.
While not all regions in Kenya have proven to be this hostile to my work (I did some great interviews in Kisumu for example), I am regularly reminded that I should question my role in this country and its overall relevance. No matter what work you do as a foreigner – from local media to development – someone from the community can do it better (and cheaper).
