What do you need?

During a strong self actualisation phase at university, we studied something called "Maslow's hierarchy of needs". For those of you who are not familiar with it, American psychologist Abraham Maslow identified five levels of human needs; physiological, safety, love, esteem and self actualisation. The broad idea is that once a person fulfils needs at a lower level they can focus on needs at the next level. Kind of makes sense; if you're day to day existence includes serious safety threats, you're probably not going to worry too much about love, esteem and realising your dreams. Only once your personal security is assured will you begin to think about them.

Maslow's hierarchy (from Wikipedia)

Why am I talking about Maslow's hierarchy? Two reasons connected to the last week, one related to Kenya in general and one related more to experiences from the week.

I would argue that basically all people in European and north American societies fill the first two levels and therefore spend the rest of their lives worrying about levels 3-5. I'd even go as far as to say most people in e.g. the UK focus on trying to fulfil level 5 (self actualisation).  For anyone who disagrees, I have three words for you: Britain's got Talent. Actually I'm using the UK as an example, but you could replace it with any European or north American country. Likewise you could replace Britain's got Talent with a host of self-actualisation/instant fame reality TV shows which exist across the western world, stretching from X-factor to Big Brother. A more menial, less fabulous example of this focus on self-actualisation would be the reliance of most western countries on imported labour to do their dirty jobs because the native population consider themselves above these jobs;  regardless of how suitable parts of the native population may be for higher level jobs. In the UK this form of self actualisation has manifested itself through 40% of eighteen years olds going to university. If 40% of the population go to university and subsequently expect a self-actualising job in line with their studies, where are the future tradesmen, drivers, shopkeepers, factory workers and so forth going to come from? Debate for another day (or the comments box at the bottom of the page).

Back on to Kenya. Driving around in the last week I have been surprised by the range of non-self actualising ways people make money here. Peddling goods in traffic jams. Carrying things to people's cars. Queuing for other people in government offices. Hunting through rubbish dump for things to sell. Or livestock farming on the same rubbish dump. Just a handful of the not-particularly-attractive "career options" I've encountered.  And that's before entering into the darker side of economic activities, of which there are plenty here.

Interestingly, the lack of self-actualisation does not seem to be limited to the poorer part of society. I've also noticed that some of the richer people appear unhappy with their lives as they are forced into the family business. Many of the stores I buy building materials from are family owned operations with an enthusiastic father and unhappy looking son(s) behind the counter. There is no doubt the families which run these stores are pretty well off. But the son(s) often look like they would much rather be doing something else with their lives.

I'm therefore pretty grateful that, like yourself, I've had the chance to have a fair go at self actualisation. Indeed, this trip in itself has to an extent been a form of self actualisation. However, as you might have picked up from previous posts, during this trip there have been challenges at the lower levels of  Maslow's pyramid as well. This week contained a certain amount of cascading through the levels of the pyramid. I won't go into details of all the incidents; just suffice to say that dealing with public administration in Kenya can make you end up feeling completely useless (there goes level 3: esteem). I will however highlight one particular event  which provided another wake up call.

However bad you think queuing in the commune in Brussels is, it's paradise compared to government offices here. No indication of where to go, no clear queuing system, no-one to ask. No photo can quite do it justice. This one isn't even mine.... I was too caught up trying to navigate this hell with absolutely no positive outcome.

Friday was a busy day and a horrible, horrible traffic day in Nairobi. As ever I had a long list of things to do, and so I was driving around all day. By the time I finished at 530p.m. on the other side of town, I had a car loaded up with building materials including 20 boxes of tiles. In order to get home on Friday night rather than the early hours of Saturday morning I decided to try and go round Nairobi rather than through it.

As it turned out, traffic was truly awful going round Nairobi as well. After two and a half hours, I was past the traffic on an empty road in the open country, still about 40km from home, when there was a pop. Burst tyre.

Kenya after dark can be a scary place. It's night time when most bad things happen. By bad things I mean really bad things, and as you can imagine from an earlier post, the police do a limited amount prevent these things from happening. By way of example, it is estimated that there are 10 car jackings per day in Nairobi. I couldn't tell you how many armed robberies and abductions there are.  Unsurprising then that many people driving alone at night try to keep on driving if they get a flat tyre rather than stop and change it.

Aware of the fact that this is not a good situation, and conscious that I wouldn't be getting very far on three tyres with my car load of tiles, I proceeded try and change the tyre as quickly as possible. What happened next was a sequence of disasters which led to me still being stranded there over two hours later. In short, the jack wouldn't raise the car high enough to change the tyre. I tried various things before deciding the only solution was to take all 300+ kilograms of tiles out of the car and try again. Which I promptly did. Only for the jack to break under the new lighter vehicle weight with burst tyre already off the car.

That was an "oh 5*!7" moment. Night, alone, long way from home on a dark road a kilometer or two from the nearest town. No way of moving the car. 20 boxes of tiles worth a few hundred euros sitting by the roadside. No small amount of cash in my pocket. However, suddenly concern number one didn't become the tiles, money or even my rumbling stomach which hadn't had any food since 10am. It was security. Guys had been periodically walking past and staring. I expect most of them were just on their way for a Friday night out, but at night on a relatively isolated unlit road it is difficult to see what people are carrying or to gauge their true intentions. This was not a great situation to be in. All thoughts related to levels 3, 4 and 5 of the pyramid were off the agenda;  the whole focus was level 2. I was even considering abandoning the car and walking to the town before it got too late.

How did I get out of this situation? With the help of two good Samaritans, one who I knew and one who I didn't.

Firstly I called a cousin to see if he could come and help, which he could. Secondly, one of the staring passers-by offered to lend a hand. Now the old saying "be careful of strangers bearing gifts" came to mind. But after sizing up the guy and seeing he wasn't hiding any weapons I concluded he was relatively harmless, and that I was better off with a companion than without. After all, single would-be attackers will likely think twice when they see two guys rather than one. In the end it was a wise decision, as it took my cousin two and a half hours to make the 15km journey. Traffic in Nairobi can indeed be that bad, even at 9pm at night.

It was an uncomfortable enough wait with a companion; without one it could have been even worse.

All's well that ends well though, and finally my cousin made it with a friend and with some strange combination of multiple jacks and stones we got the car moving. It took me until the early hours of Saturday morning to get home. But after a matoke chip feast, at least levels one and two of the pyramid were fulfilled again.