Going to Kakuma

A refugee camp is a very difficult place to get in to if you are not a refugee.  The preparations for my visit to Kakuma Refugee Camp, in Kenya’s northeast and about 90 kms from the South Sudan border, began long before I even left Sydney and required numerous approvals and logistical arrangements.  First there was the special permission required by my university, owing to Kakuma being located in a current DFAT ‘do not travel’ area, then the approval of Kenya’s Commissioner for Refugees then UNHCR had to agree to host me, find me accommodation and a seat on the charter flight between Nairobi and Kakuma’s small airstrip.

In fact I think these extensive controls are entirely reasonable – there is enough to deal with at a refugee camp without having to worry about itinerant researchers, journalists or tourist.  All of these controls are aimed at ensuring that anyone who visits Kakuma does so with at least the intention to make a contribution to the refugees who live there (except for the special permission of my uni, that was about insurance).

Kakuma Refugee Camp is one of Kenya’s two main refugee camps.  The other – Dadaab – is in the country’s east, near Somalia.  The current security situation there, which is quite unstable and has meant that refugee registration and status determination is not currently taking place, led me to decide fairly early on not to visit.  Kakuma, by contrast, is fairly peaceful.  Armed with my various travel approvals, a small bag, a new hat and lots of sunscreen (in Kakuma it gets up to 47 degrees) I arrived at Nairobi’s Wilson Airport at 5.45 am Monday morning for my very first UN Chater Flight (I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit excited).

Check in turned out to be one of the interesting experiences of my entire week in Kakuma.  I had carefully made sure to pack light and avoid any obvious signs of Western wealth.  I left behind my ipod, jewellery and safari lodge cap – this time less because of security, and more because it seemed rather inappropriate to wander around a refugee camp bearing souvenirs from a comparatively luxury holiday.  So I was staggered to watch one of my co-passengers checking in a huge, flat screen TV.  Really?  You’re taking a flat screen TV to a refugee camp?? As I wondered to myself about just exactly who I was sharing my flight to Kakuma with I struck up conversation with the small party sitting next to me in the waiting area.  They introduced themselves as evangelical Christians from the US visiting Kakuma to see the work their church was doing there.  I wondered how well the bureaucratic controls were really working.

The flight itself, on a small, relatively low-flying plane, gave a great view of the northern parts of Kenya.  As we travelled north-west from Nairobi the land got drier and rockier (the air hostess had told us that if we crashed we could use our seat cushions as flotation devices, though I can’t imagine where) until we started our descent to Kakuma itself.

The view from the plane is the view of the refugee camp that everyone knows.  Sprawling tents and shacks surrounded by barren, dusty desert.  What struck me most was not the camp itself – which looked quite established and organized – but the dilapidated dwellings made from branches, plastic and assorted rubbish, on the camp’s outskirts.  I thought to myself what a harsh life it must be for those who travel the many hundreds of miles, sometimes by foot, to refugee camps like Kakuma only to not be let in, either because the camp is full or because of delays in registration.  I later learned, however, that the dwellings I saw looking at are in fact the homes of the locals – the people of the Turkana tribe, who live and herd their cattle and goats on the land surrounding Kakuma refugee camp.

When we touched down on the red, gravelly air strip, goats ran past, a man on a bike stopped and stared, and the kids playing soccer in the dust ran to the wire fence surrounding the strip to peer at the new arrivals, as we disembarked and collected our bags (and TVs) from the rear of the plane.  While the evangelicals hopped into one of the many NGO jeeps waiting beside the airstrip, I joined the UNHCR staff and pilots on the UN mini-bus and headed off to check in to my lodgings for the week, inside the UNHCR compound.

Check in - Nairobi Wilson Airport

Airline safety, UN style

Boarding the plane - it runs twice a week between Nairobi and Kakuma, delivering
staff, visitors and supplies directly in to the camp.  The nearest airport to the camp
is in Lokichogio, a 90 km journey from Kakuma which requires an armed escort.

Aerial view of Kakuma Refugee Camp. 

View of the air strip after landing.

Entrance to Kakuma 3 - the third and most recent section of the camp.

Every NGO you can imagine has a sign in Kakuma - unfortunately I'm
not sure it necessarily means they are doing much there.

Arrival at the UNHCR compound.

Tales of a Nairobi Researcher

Yesterday was the pièce de résistance of my research so far - an interview with Kenya's Commissioner of Refugee Affairs.  The Commissioner is the Head of the Department of Refugee Affairs and reports to the Minister for Immigration, so he is essentially the top guy for refugee management in the country.  It was my third trip to the Department of Refugee Affairs - my first was for an interview with one of their Protection Officers, whose role it is to liaise with UNHCR on individual cases, visit local prisons and police stations to see if 'illegal immigrants' detained there might be asylum seekers, and assist with the government's registration and issuing of ID cards to refugees approved by UNHCR.  The second visit to the Department was to deliver my letter of request for a meeting with the Commissioner.  The Protection Officer I first met with advised me that this would be better than emailing or phoning.  So I went and found the fanciest print shop and paper I could in Nairobi, plastered my letter with as many official looking university logos I could and hand delivered my letter to the office.  And voilà, it worked!

The Department of Refugee Affairs is housed in a castle.  While I suspect it was never really a castle - more likely the play thing of some colonial official with too much money - the fortified appearance, thick stone walls and turrets leave you in doubt as to what this was intended to be.  My regular visits there have made me the subject of some interest to the staff - including the receptionist, who wears a long blue trench coat with 'Refugees are real people' inscribed on the back, and the guards at the front gate, one of whom seems always to want me to buy her tea (I'm not sure from where) and the other of whom wants me to take him to Australia!  It's interesting stuff this research business, so here is a little snapshot of just a few of the interviews I have done in Kenya.

1. Commissioner of Refugee Affairs, Government of Kenya.  Despite the official hoops I had to jump through to secure the interview, and the imposing nature of his office (think white leather padded walls), the man himself was very relaxed, candid and a great person to talk to.  His perspective on refugee protection in Kenya was extremely interesting and very different from most of what I have heard so far.  In particular, he is concerned about the impact that the monolithic humanitarian industry in Kenya has on its refugee burden - while he certainly acknowledges that many humanitarian agencies provide essential and life-saving assistance to refugees, the appeal they hold for people in neighbouring countries, combined with their interest in sustaining their own business, perpetuates the very refugee 'problem' they purport to solve.
2. Head of Refugee Status Determination, UNHCR Nairobi.  UNHCR conducts refugee status determination in Nairobi as well is in Kakuma and Dadaab Refugee Camps.  Here in Nairobi, the UNHCR office has just moved.  When I visited they were still waiting for hot water and a functioning printer.  Despite this, the head of RSD here in Nairobi has been one of the most open and helpful people I have met with so far.  Not only was she very frank about her own work and that of her team, but she even arranged for me to observe an interview with an asylum applicant from the Democratic Republic of Congo - in Nairobi with seven of her eight children - and allowed me to take copies of numerous UNHCR documents that I have not been able to obtain elsewhere.
3. Legal Intern, Kituo Cha Sheria.  As often seems to happen with NGOs here in Kenya, the request for an interview from a researcher gets bumped on to the person with the least responsibilities and (supposedly) the most time.  Having worked in NGOs, where staff do not have enough time to do their jobs let alone talk about them to researchers, I have total sympathy for this approach.  As a researcher, I think sometimes it works in my favour.  Though interns usually have less experience than more senior members of staff, the experience they do have is often fresher, giving them a more critical eye and an eagerness to talk about it.  The interview also gives them a perhaps rare opportunity to be the expert in something, so they are more than forthcoming with information and willing to share stories, perspectives and useful documents.  Possibly the most notable thing about Kituo Cha Sheria (which means Centre for Justice) was its location.  Housed in a building in Eastleigh - a predominantly Somali area - my driver George had warned me not to wear open-toed shoes.  When we got there, I found Eastleigh positively thriving with street-side business, dealing and life - this was one of the busiest and most chaotic places I have been, and that includes India!  The problem, however, is that the 'street' ranges between mud, swamp and river.  When the traffic got too chaotic (5 cars side-by-side trying to forge their way down a road which is one lane in either direction) George pulled up on the side-walk and suggested we walk.  And while I appreciated George's shoe advice, I really think that unless I had been wearing gumboots it wouldn't have made a difference at all. 
4. Justice of the High Court of Kenya and the East African Court of Justice.  This is the interview that gave me the most attire-related anxiety, owing to a Judge suggesting that we meet in one of Nairobi's poshest hotels.  A fascinating man and one who has been involved in some high profile cases here in Kenya - including a Constitutional dispute about the date of the elections which, understandably given the election-related violence of 2007-8, was the subject of considerable attention.  What impressed me most about this interview was the keen interest that the Kenya judiciary (at least some of them) has in refugee protection matters, despite them having very little jurisdiction of such matters at present.  With the assistance of UNHCR and others, they have developed a refugee law training program for judicial officers, conducting regular training sessions around the country.  While the implementation of the program still has a way to go - asylum seekers and refugees are still notoriously being arrested and convicted of unlawful presence, despite their right to be in the country - the willingness to engage with refugee protection and implement improvements was evident in both my interview with this High Court judge and in the 100-page refugee law training manual he shared with me afterwards.

On Monday I will travel to Kakuma Refugee Camp, in the north of Kenya and near the border with South Sudan.  I had initially intended to also go to Dadaab - Kenya's other main refugee camp and the largest in the world.  But owing to particularly bad security in the Somali border region at present and the fact the registration and refugee status determination is currently suspended, I will confine my visit to Kakuma.  I will spend the week in Kakuma.  It will be my last week of 'field research' proper and no doubt will prove to be one of the most interesting.  I really don't know what to expect - like the Kibera slums in Nairobi, refugee camps are mostly painted as sprawling masses of UNHCR tents, poverty, malnourishment and enforced passivity.  However more than one person I have spoken with so far has told me that Kakuma is a place where 'a lot is going on'.  I guess I'll find out on Monday.

Castle House - currently home to the Department of Refugee Affairs 

Me at the Department of Refugee Affairs.  Photos are usually forbidden at official sites,
but I must have looked suitably awestruck and innocent that one of the guards agreed
for me to pose in front of the building.  (Or maybe this was part of his campaign
to get me to marry him and take him back to Sydney....)

We had persevered with Eastleigh traffic for quite some time (including two phone
calls to the office of Kituo Cha Sheria to give an updated ETA).  But after we had been
faced this sight for about 15 minutes with no movement, we decided to walk. 

A birds eye view of Eastleigh 

Refugee Consortium of Kenya.  Along with Kituo Cha Sheria the other main refugee law NGO
in Nairobi.  Like many other NGOs, who have been pushed out of the city centre by rising
 rents, the organisation's offices are now in a former residential home in the suburbs.

A view from the back of the lecture room where I delivered my presentation
on research methods on Day 1 in Nairobi.  Not exactly interview-related
but still relevant to my research so I thought I'd throw it in!

Bandit

This is my little friend at the Nairobi Guesthouse.  One of my fellow housemates, Anneke, has named him Bandit.  Others here think that he might have previously had a different name - like Button - but I definitely think Bandit suits him much better.  He has way too much attitude for a cutesy name like Button...

Bandit is one of two kittens that have claimed territory over the Guesthouse.  Judging by the greater size and strength of the other one - Bandit is tiny - my guess is that Bandit fell to number 2 in the pecking order.  But to make up for it, he has wormed his way in with the humans.  I need only sit on the front porch with food for a few seconds and Bandit will faithfully appear and wait patiently for his share.  He approaches by stalking - crouched, very low and very slow - so that the first time I thought  there was either a mouse nearby that I hadn't noticed, or he was about to pounce on my bowl of muesli!  Bandit only eats human food.  Beans, carrots, pasta - yes please.  Tuna, beef - bring it on!  Cat food? Sniff...

Bandit won't let you touch him, and he won't come in the house (Anneke and I have secretly tried to encourage him in).  But for a cat that plays so hard to get, he is very demanding!  And if I am late with his tuna, he'll sit at the front door eyeballing me down the hall in the kitchen.  Bandit will eat pasta from my hand, sort of.  If I dangle it from my finger, he'll swipe it off with his paw.  He employs that same strategy when I serve him tuna with a fork.  I have to make sure I get it out of the can and on to the ground quick smart, if I dilly dally on the way down Bandit will take a swipe and tuna goes everywhere!

Usually I would worry about what will happen to a stray animal I'm feeding when I go.  But in this case I'm not too worried.  The night guards feed Bandit their chapatis, other housemates feed him their pizza.  Even my driver, George, knows Bandit - 'that cat will eat anything!'  Well, yes, except cat food. Something tells me that Bandit has both the charm and the smarts to make it just fine.