Lessons from Kenya: what we may have lost in modern Britain

By Mattie Robson

After completing a Master’s degree at Manchester University and seeking professional and personal experience beyond academia, Mattie travelled to western Kenya to volunteer with a charity called the Centre for Indigenous Child Rights. The experience was profound and will stay with him forever. In this article, he reflects on everyday forms of community, belonging and cultural practice, and what their quiet presence there reveals about what we may have lost in modern Britain.

West Pokot County, a rural province in the west of Kenya (red shading). Author: Mandingoesque (linked to source). Image cropped.

For the people of West Pokot County, a rural province in the west of Kenya, there’s a fascinating system to prevent intra-family marriages. At birth, every child is assigned a specific totem (a symbolic animal, plant or natural element associated with a clan or lineage). There are more than fifty possible totems and, during my time there, I met many Frogs, a few Monkeys and even the occasional Sun. The system dictates that you cannot marry someone of the same totem, you cannot marry someone of the same totem as your mother and, rather strictly, you cannot marry someone of the same totem as your grandmother – unless she has died and you have undergone the necessary cleansing rituals. My local friend described to me the immense frustration that comes after meeting a pretty girl and then discovering that she happens to be, say, a Buffalo – the same totem as your mother.

This system represents just one of many examples of Kenyan culture. During the six weeks I spent living and volunteering in this rural province, I felt ‘culture shock’ for the first time. I’ll describe the culture as I saw and experienced it, and then comment on how it compares with two aspects of life in Britain.

Most people in West Pokot own traditional clothing reserved for special occasions, speak Swahili alongside a distinct regional language, and begin group conversations with customary formal introductions delivered anticlockwise, moving from person to person around the circle in a set order. Each region in Kenya has interwoven practices such as these which create a sense of a tangible culture. Even more impactful than these physical signs of culture are the less tangible characteristics. For example, Kenyans are extremely sociable. They regularly chat with strangers in public and it’s normal to exchange phone numbers straight after meeting, so that you can stay in touch. Being with other people is the default rather than a conscious decision. On one occasion I visited a remote rural community – with no access to electricity or the internet – and I asked an older member of the group this question: ‘What do you do to stay happy?’ After translation, she replied: ‘I spend time with people that I love.’ She said it with a shrug of her shoulders as if it was the most obvious answer, and upon reflection, maybe it is.

It’s possible that, as an outsider, I was seeing the best of people. However, when watching the town from my favourite café, I came to the same conclusion: the Kenyan attitude to life is positive, hopeful and resilient. Upon meeting an acquaintance, a theatrical handshake is common and great to see. Progress in life is viewed as more likely than a decline in living standards and, in times of difficulty, unwanted circumstances are accepted and overcome.

For example, on one occasion, while I was travelling north, our minibus (called a matatu) broke down halfway through our eight-hour journey. As the bus slowed to a halt and we filed out one by one, there was almost complete silence. Other than a few tuts and shakes of the head, our unfortunate situation was quickly accepted, and it was assumed that those in charge were doing all they could to get us back on the road. No further comments were required. By way of contrast, on my coach journey home from Gatwick airport to Dorset, an Englishman was almost apoplectic about the coach being too warm; he repeatedly complained about the driver's choice of temperature, confirming my view that we really need to lighten up.

My time in Kenya led me to reflect on two aspects of life back in Britain: our economic history and our approach to cultural diversity. My observation that Kenyan culture is more community-focused derives from the sense that, since Thatcher and the rise of neoliberalism, our society has become more individualistic and less caring. The way my grandparents have described life in the post–Second World War period does seem more akin to what I saw in Kenya. While rose-tinted glasses are possible, stories of doors being left unlocked and everyone knowing everyone must be partly true. Although our legislation has evolved to be more inclusive and to protect the most vulnerable, it seems our culture has not. While the economic transformation of the 1980s and 1990s has delivered clear material benefits, perhaps its negative impact on our culture has been underestimated.

When it comes to diversity in Kenya, differences between groups are readily accepted and perhaps this makes them stronger. There are around forty-two different ethnic groups, each with a diverse set of beliefs and traditions. People are often happy to tell you about the unique characteristics of their group and how these differ from others. On many occasions, their contrasting food preferences were explained to me with glee: the people of Pokot love goat, the Luhya prefer chicken, the Luo are known for fish, and the Maasai are famous for milk. In Britain, we seem to strive for a more homogenised culture. By contrast, in Kenya, differences between groups are accepted and even celebrated. Perhaps these clearer cultural lines foster a stronger sense of belonging and create a firmer foundation for cohesive communities.

I don’t know if this approach to diversity could be transposed from Kenya to Britain. Although Kenya’s groups are culturally distinct, many of them share the experience of transition from colonial rule to independence. This shared past may provide a degree of common ground that can’t be assumed among the different groups in Britain, and it complicates any attempt to create a society that is both diverse and cohesive. As for maintaining our culture, I think the small details matter. We should actively discourage American English, encourage rather than mock regional accents, and ensure that our practice of queuing remains as militant as ever.

In the near future, I will be travelling to Uganda with my friend Harry to visit the Humanist Isaac Newton High School. With support from UHST Chair Steve Hurd and Director Peter Kisirinya, we aim to produce a report assessing the economic impact of the school on its surrounding towns and villages. If this experience is anything like my time in Kenya, I can’t wait.

Links

• Cicr Kenya

• https://ugandahumanistschoolstrust.org/