Chatting with a mate today, she described her husband's deep weariness at dealing with corrupt authorities. He's Kenyan born and bred, an ethical professional who is hired by many organisations. But when there's a difficulty, authorities in his field come, and say:
'You owe [a massive sum], several million shillings.'
'No the organisation doesn't.'
'Well how much do you think you owe to put it right?'
In his view, its getting worse.
Jobseekers I've interviewed have told me about the 'presents' they've given, that they couldn't afford, to hope to get their CV before the gatekeeper to the employer. It's documented that the going rate for a place in the armed forces during the last recruitment exercise was 50,000 KSh, a month and a half's wages in a very well paid job - say as a bank cashier - three months' wages for your average teacher. But it varies wildly by sector and applicant's skills level, and my clients are getting jobs on their own merits, with never a mention of a 'small present'.
Friends have had summary traffic fines levied for no valid reason and been forced by errant officials to drive them to a cash machine to get the money, over a hundred pounds a time. It's happened to at least five friends over the last three years. And I've also heard firsthand from the drunken rugby tour coach which picked up a hitchhiking official on their way back to Nairobi. They shared some beers, and in effusive fellow feeling swapped coats and dropped him off near his home. To discover, in his swapped new coat in the morning, several million shillings in cash - tens of thousands of pounds - a sum no one has in cash unless from bribes - forgotten by the bevied up official.
I've got to say it hasn't been my experience. Yes it was laborious and cumbersome to set up a company and gain a work permit, but so too is the UK DSS, and while the papers weren't ready when they should have been, it only took persistence and several repeat visits and no requests at all for anything else. But I'm one of a privileged few. And prices for all kinds of things here are on hidden sliding scales, what the market will bear, according to streetsavy of the buyer, sense of urgency, scarceness and the like.
'ALWAYS ask, Is that your best price' said my mate WorldyWise soon after I arrived. And I've got rebates on hotel rooms, bike repairs, hay for the guineapigs and market wares.
But I'm thinking back on the conversations I've been part of since coming here. With the scared expat arrivees, who worry how to find a way through this. With some upstanding Kenyan friends, who are clear they won't be paying a bribe, no matter what the consequences. And I remember the safety advice tendered by the experienced police officer when I was a freshfaced student twenty years ago.
'If you think you're being followed, obviously try and get away. But if you can't, I'd advise doing something odd. Attackers don't want to deal with the unpredictable. I know one young woman who was sure she was being followed, when she picked up the lid of a steel dustbin and started talking to it. She then climbed into the dustbin. The attacker ran away.'
And where possible, I think changing the narrative might work here, sometimes. The story I love best is from friends who were Christian volunteers in Cameroon. When stopped by police for a bribe they got out of the car, stood with the police.
'Well we don't know what to do. Let us pray together for guidance.'
Police and friends stood together by the vehicle for an impromptu prayer. And shamefaced, the police finished the prayer, and told them to drive on, no payment this time.
'You owe [a massive sum], several million shillings.'
'No the organisation doesn't.'
'Well how much do you think you owe to put it right?'
In his view, its getting worse.
Jobseekers I've interviewed have told me about the 'presents' they've given, that they couldn't afford, to hope to get their CV before the gatekeeper to the employer. It's documented that the going rate for a place in the armed forces during the last recruitment exercise was 50,000 KSh, a month and a half's wages in a very well paid job - say as a bank cashier - three months' wages for your average teacher. But it varies wildly by sector and applicant's skills level, and my clients are getting jobs on their own merits, with never a mention of a 'small present'.
Friends have had summary traffic fines levied for no valid reason and been forced by errant officials to drive them to a cash machine to get the money, over a hundred pounds a time. It's happened to at least five friends over the last three years. And I've also heard firsthand from the drunken rugby tour coach which picked up a hitchhiking official on their way back to Nairobi. They shared some beers, and in effusive fellow feeling swapped coats and dropped him off near his home. To discover, in his swapped new coat in the morning, several million shillings in cash - tens of thousands of pounds - a sum no one has in cash unless from bribes - forgotten by the bevied up official.
I've got to say it hasn't been my experience. Yes it was laborious and cumbersome to set up a company and gain a work permit, but so too is the UK DSS, and while the papers weren't ready when they should have been, it only took persistence and several repeat visits and no requests at all for anything else. But I'm one of a privileged few. And prices for all kinds of things here are on hidden sliding scales, what the market will bear, according to streetsavy of the buyer, sense of urgency, scarceness and the like.
'ALWAYS ask, Is that your best price' said my mate WorldyWise soon after I arrived. And I've got rebates on hotel rooms, bike repairs, hay for the guineapigs and market wares.
But I'm thinking back on the conversations I've been part of since coming here. With the scared expat arrivees, who worry how to find a way through this. With some upstanding Kenyan friends, who are clear they won't be paying a bribe, no matter what the consequences. And I remember the safety advice tendered by the experienced police officer when I was a freshfaced student twenty years ago.
'If you think you're being followed, obviously try and get away. But if you can't, I'd advise doing something odd. Attackers don't want to deal with the unpredictable. I know one young woman who was sure she was being followed, when she picked up the lid of a steel dustbin and started talking to it. She then climbed into the dustbin. The attacker ran away.'
And where possible, I think changing the narrative might work here, sometimes. The story I love best is from friends who were Christian volunteers in Cameroon. When stopped by police for a bribe they got out of the car, stood with the police.
'Well we don't know what to do. Let us pray together for guidance.'
Police and friends stood together by the vehicle for an impromptu prayer. And shamefaced, the police finished the prayer, and told them to drive on, no payment this time.
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