Please take my delinquency in updating this blog as a good sign. I keep so busy doing the work that I have no time to talk about the work that I’m doing. (But I am sorry, and I will try to inform you better.)

With my writing, I think I’ve hit my stride. I’m writing better and faster, and I’m more comfortable with my form. While I can’t see the finish line yet, I’m no longer doubting its existence. Despite my strenuous training regime, I still feel desperately out of shape. I get up from the table after five hours of writing, and I nearly fall on my face. It’s like I’ve been holding my breath the entire time. I have to gather my thoughts and oxygen before moving too far from the seat.

Because of this demanding exercise, as you may have noticed, I’ve neglected pretty much any TGHP duty that does not include “writing the General’s biography” (this includes fundraising, PR, the blog, and preparing taxes). I hope to emerge, or at least take a break, from my hibernation soon. I’ve set myself a March deadline to submit a first draft of this manuscript to my mentor, my “Mwalimu Ted” (or “Dr. Ted”). I will visit him towards the end of March and revise the work again. Whoever said “Writing is re-writing” is absolutely right.

Here is an excerpt from one of my drafts. I hope you enjoy it.

Cheers – Laura Lee Huttenbach / Nkirote

—

It was my last week in Kenya. The General had to attend a cooperative meeting, but he didn’t want us to lose the whole day. He picked me up on the way back from town in the afternoon, and we squeezed in a short two-hour session. We drank a soda and ate a banana. Then, with a full mouth, I said, “General, I have a kinda funny question for you today. There’s an American singer, a rapper, who says, ‘Money is Life.’ How would you respond to that?”

This is what the General thought. . .

So in today’s life, it has sense, that money is life. It is life. But in our age time, in our childhood, there was no money, and there was no need for money? Money is good, in some ways, because people are changing bananas for money. I had no bananas, but with money, I can choose the best. Because the one selling the banana needs money. The banana, no matter how sweet, is only there for eating, but it cannot do anything else. So when I have money, I am the controller. All the best things are mine, so money is life. True.

The other day, I went to a conference in Nairobi. It was at a wonderful, good hotel, where all the Presidents stay when they meet in Kenya, called the Safari Park Hotel. You can never enter it unless you belong there. A soda, a small bottle, should be 20 shillings. I went to that hotel with Mwiti and another friend, and we ordered three bottles of soda. I was left to pay the bill, and I gave a hundred shillings. The waiter was there, looking at me and wondering what I was doing. I said, “How much?”

He told me it was 450 shillings. They were 150 shillings per bottle, for these small bottles of soda—the very ones that you buy for twenty shillings outside. I gave the man an amount of 500 shillings. So, I thought: What is being sold there is not soda, but the class of the people who are supposed to go there.

The people who want to eat inside there do not want to be disturbed by common people. They want to stay there comfortably. I think it’s supposed to be like Norfolk [former white-only hotel] going there. That’s for people who have lots of money and want to display it. They put the cost, the price, so high that they don’t have to mix with you. They want to see their class, how many there are, and then they become friends.

They have clubs, like the Nairobi Club, which you cannot even take food there or get a beer unless you are a member of that club. To become a member, you have to produce a lot of [credit and bank] cards, to show where you get all your money and which class you are in and how much you earn. You have to pay dues to be a member there which most people cannot afford.

All over the world, money has become life. It is true, even in America—I’ve gone out and noticed this clearly. There are some places and some hotels which I will never dare to go there to have lunch because the price that is put there is very high. That’s one class.

There is another one where I feel that I should not go because I don’t want to have that kind of very typical food. I don’t want to eat githere [mashed maize and beans], so I go in another class, where I will never ask how much do you charge, because I know the menu. I know this will be not more than 500 shillings, and I will take lunch in that way. I don’t complicate myself with hard things that I cannot afford. Some people do it, but I don’t. I do what I am able to.

That place, where I’ve said I will take that lunch, if I’m with my friend, and I know he doesn’t have cash, it is bad, because I’m forcing him to go in a class where he or she won’t be able to meet the cost of the lunch. Because of this thing called money, and the education and the employment, people are graded automatically, whether white or not.

The General History Project is turning every stereotype of African charities on its head. I’m thrilled to report that The General has just organized the most successful fundraiser for the organization—and here’s the kicker—in Kenya, with his fellow tea farmers.

I’ve struggled to get funding. When The General heard that I was running out of money, he offered to organize a harambee, Swahili for “fundraiser” or “self-help.” The General just got electricity for the first time two months ago. He does not have indoor plumbing. At his church, people bring chickens and vegetables for their offerings. This is where The General comes from, but he is a successful tea farmer who founded a thriving farmers’ cooperative.

On November 28th, he gathered together villagers, farmers, family members, churchgoers, politicians, cooperative members, and teachers. He explained how “their daughter” (me) was working to record their history and how you can’t survive in America without money—i.e., we don’t have farms to feed from, so we have to buy food. He said, “Our daughter needs our help to finish this project.” For just $20/day. . .

By December 17th, all contribution pledges had been collected. The General consulted his IT person at the cooperative headquarters to see how he could send me the money they had raised. I received an email that day which said, “We had quite a colorful harambee, and we have wired you the money. Please go to a dispensary as soon as possible to collect what we have raised.” They provided instructions and the reference number for the transaction.

On Sunday December 20th, I walked in to the CVS drugstore and asked the employee at the front where I could find the Moneygram center. She took me to a red phone and said, “You are sending, correct?”

I said, “No, I’m receiving.”

She looked me up and down, from my tennis shoes up my dark denim jeans, to my yellow long-sleeved shirt and brown puffy vest, to my smiling white face and blonde hair. “You’re receiving money?” she said. “From where?”

“Africa.” I could tell she wanted more information, but she didn’t ask.

“Well, there’s the phone. I think they’ll tell you what to do.” She walked away shaking her head. I picked up the phone. An automated teller asked me to enter my reference number and the amount of money I was expecting.

I had no idea. I would’ve been ecstatic with $30, because I knew all their dollars were hard earned. I pushed “2-0-0,” thinking that was the best-case scenario. The automated teller said, “Please wait while we connect you to a representative.”

Seconds later, a representative confirmed my name, my reference number, and the sender’s code. Then she said, “I’m sorry, Ma’am, the location where you are does not dispense amounts over $2000.”

I said, “Okay, that’s fine, no problem.”

“Uh, actually it is a problem, I’m afraid you’ll have to go to another location. Wal-Mart seems to be closest.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Are you telling me that the amount I’m collecting exceeds $2000?”

“Yes.”

“How much is it?!”

“For security purposes, I cannot reveal that information. I can only confirm an amount.”

“Okay, is it greater than $2500?”

“Yes, and that is all I can tell you.”

“Oh my goodness.” That was more than Kenya’s per capita GDP.

She said, “Ma’am?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry. Thank you. I’ll go to Wal-Mart.”

I walked out the door towards my car in a daze. My largest donation to date had been $1000, from a very close personal contact, but most were around $50. Nobody had offered to hold a fundraiser for me or my organization in America, and donations were even tax-deductible. I was living in the richest country in the world with the richest people surrounding me, and I was about to drive to Walmart to collect a wired donation exceeding $2500 raised by the efforts of rural Kenyan tea farmers.

I went to the money center at Walmart, and I asked the lady at customer service how to use Moneygram. She pointed to the forms at the opposite end of the counter and said to get the green sender’s form. I walked over and picked up the form. “Oh, this is for sending money. I’m actually receiving.”

This lady also looked surprised. “I’m sorry, I didn’t understand. If you’re receiving, you need the purple form.”

I picked up the purple form and went back to her register. I filled it out, and she entered the information in her computer, doing a double take as she read ‘Kenya’ as the sender’s origin. Then, she wrote the amount I was to receive. The General and his village had raised two thousand, five hundred, twenty-seven dollars and fifty-four cents. $2,527.54. I could not believe it. She said, “And the message they sent with it is ‘Merry Christmas, Happy New Years, letter will follow.’” I nodded as tears welled up in my eyes.

There, in the Supercenter of American holiday consumerism, I watched the Walmart customer service representative count out twenty-five hundred dollars in cash, sent to me directly from Kenya. It occurred to me that I, a 27-year-old Atlanta native, was being sponsored by an African village to write The General’s biography. In what strange world does this happen?

Well, it turns out it’s in this world, and these countries. While not the conventional model of nonprofit fundraising, the generosity of these Africans is keeping me and The General History Project afloat this holiday season. I founded TGHP on the principle of trying to help people in the world learn from and understand one another. I couldn’t ask for a better place to start the New Year.

Wishing all of you a very happy holidays. I know my Christmas just got a lot Merrier.

All the best – Laura Lee P. Huttenbach (“Nkirote”)

***Please remember The General History Project in your (tax-deductible) holiday donations this year. If you know anyone interested in matching the General’s efforts, please contact me.***

In case you don’t know, The General History Project seeks to record oral and cultural histories in places where people don’t have the resources to do it on their own. In March, I traveled to the Eastern Province of Kenya to interview “The General,” an 87-year old man who fought for Kenyan independence in the 1950s as a Mau Mau General. He is still Chairman of the South Imenti Tea SACCO and also Chairman of Njuri Ncheke, the indigenous governing council of elders. Currently, I’m writing his biography and hope to share his life and wisdom with a greater audience. This will be the first of many stories we tell, I hope.

The General History Project, Inc. is 501(c)(3) tax-exempt nonprofit organization.

——-
Cheers – Laura Lee P. Huttenbach/ Nkirote

Maybe I need to say that again to keep myself from shouting it off my balcony: I. Just. Finished. Transcribing. All. Of. The. Sessions. With. The. General.

All 1,148 pages of them. Can I kiss my foot petal now?

And guess what? The General History Project went multimedia. I finished a 4-minute video promo/teaser of the organization with the help of Board Member and editing genius Jessica Musick. I’m talking with webmaster extraordinaire Lindsay Tabas (and Board Member) on Monday and hopefully we can get the video up on the website by next week. I wish I could’ve organized a VIP advanced screening for all you supporters, but I think it will have to premiere on the website due to budgeting constraints.

I also heard from Murithi, the General’s son, that the General got electricity at the tea farm this week. Imagine, after 87 years. So I’m not the only one seeing the light.

As soon as I pick up the transcriptions from the print shop, I’m going to read it and write all over it and figure out how to tell The General’s life story (i.e.: begin a manuscript for his biography). That’s not intimidating at all (gulp).

When I spoke with “Dr. Ted,” he told me that once he finished the transcriptions with Ned Cobb (an 84-year-old Alabama sharecropper he wrote about in the book All God’s Dangers), things came together pretty fast. I’ve got my fingers crossed for divine intervention. (I’m only kidding about “crossing fingers” – superstition never mixes well with the divine.) Luckily, there’s a drive-in church down the road here in Daytona. Maybe I’ll bring my work to the Sunday service.

Anyhow: I wanted to share the good news. I couldn’t have come this far without your support.

Yay – Laura Lee P. Huttenbach

ps: Thank you so much to everyone who voted for me during Nau’s “Grant for a Change” competition. I was not selected as a finalist, but it was a constructive exercise for me to participate. And there are a lot of good people doing good things to make this world a better place. I sincerely appreciate all the votes. And please do let me know if you hear of any similar opportunities that this project might apply for.

Technology: 2,831 versus Laura Lee: 3

I’ve spent the last two weeks trying to put together a five to ten minute video teaser about The General History Project. I returned with fifty-five hours of video footage from Kenya. The footage mostly includes taped interviews but also features scenes from around the tea and coffee farms, church, a family reunion, our safari, and a couple field trips.

Although I want to focus on the audio recordings and transcriptions, many people encouraged me to include a visual component. I agreed that this was a good idea. So, I tried on the hat of a video editor. It didn’t fit.

I knew the war with technology would be a dirty one when I spent twenty-eight minutes on the phone with a customer service representative explaining my troubles in backing up the original footage on an external hard drive. At twenty-nine minutes, the helpful employee informed me, “Um, well, actually, we’re not set up here to give technical support, but it just sounded like you needed to talk to someone.” I checked to see what number I’d dialed.

I said, “So you’re telling me that, after thirty minutes on the phone, that you can’t help me?” This man was obviously a veteran and unfazed by my frustration. He said, “I want to tell you something, I’m not sure if you’ve heard it before, but I want you to remember: Michael Jordan was not a good basketball player the first time he stepped out on the court.”

I’m not kidding. Oh yes, this technological warfare was going to be dirty.

I recruited more people for my team: TGHP’s Treasurer, Jessica, joined me in the struggle. She has a Mac with a wonderful application called I-Video. We spent four hours at the Apple store last week trying to get our computers to talk to one another. I think my PC got nervous surrounded by all the Macs, and it shut down. It wasn’t looking good for this TGHP teaser. Until yesterday…

I brought my video camera with selected tapes to Jessica’s house. I plugged the camera directly into her Mac desktop (after a quick run to Best Buy to get the right firewire cable). We opened I-Video. A lovely, welcoming screen appeared asking us if we wanted to import footage. We clicked in the affirmative. And it began to import. It was a beautiful sequence of events.

Perhaps my losing streak has ended. I think this video may actually happen after all. And then I’m going back to transcribing and writing. My biggest concern now is that I might have to buy a Mac, but I’m not going to discuss this possibility any further while I’m typing on its competition. ‘Cause that’s just not PC (or in the budget).

So…stay tuned for some video clips from my work with The General in Kenya. They’re on the way (thanks, Jess)!!

Oh, and thank you so much to all those who have voted in Grant for a Change. I currently have 116 votes – still a ways back from the frontrunners, but I’m so grateful for your support. You have until the end of this month to vote at http://www.nau.com/collective/grant-for-change/laura-lee-p–huttenbach-665.html. Instructions are in the previous blog, and I’d love it if you took two minutes to vote if you have not done so. Thanks so much!

Sending good thoughts – Laura Lee Huttenbach

I have exciting news to share! My lovely sister nominated me for a contest called “Grant for Change.” It’s sponsored by a small clothing company from Portland called Nau, and they’ll give $10,000 to “an individual working to instigate lasting, positive change.” Some think that might apply to me and The General History Project.

Now here’s where you come in (I hope): It’s based on votes, and I would be honored if you took 4 minutes of your time and voted for me. I would be ecstatic if you spent 8 minutes of your time and asked your family and friends to do the same. There are some other cool projects featured there, so feel free to browse around.

Here are the instructions:

1. Go to http://www.nau.com/collective/grant-for-change/laura-lee-p–huttenbach-665.html

2. Click on “Register” in the upper right corner of the page.

3. Put in your name, email, and create a password. Then click “Register Now.”

4. Go to the link again: http://www.nau.com/collective/grant-for-change/laura-lee-p–huttenbach-665.html (copying and pasting it in the browser works).

5. You’ll notice some tabs above my text – “Who, Why, Images, etc.” Please click on “Rate/share.”

6. Please click on five stars (or whatever rating you think is appropriate).

7. Please accept a big, sloppy virtual hug of appreciation from me, yours truly.

To quote a recent email I received from a TGHP supporter:

Laura Lee: Voted for you and sent this along to more voters – an interesting site and so encouraging to see so many young people with a service disposition. Sometimes when I listen to the discord in DC and observe the rampant materialism, I lose confidence in the future; this site is a refreshing antidote to despair.

So yay for good people. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Talk to you soon…

Kwa u pendo (“with love,” in Swahili) – Laura Lee

Ps- Thanks to my friend Ashley and her friend Becca for telling us about this grant. As an old colleague used to say, team work makes the dream work…

I’ve been a bit of a recluse these past couple weeks. As I recently told a friend, “I’ve been too distracted doing the work to talk about the work I’m doing.” She assured me that it was an excusable distraction.

But in a world that’s starting to expect hourly progress updates (thanks, Twitter), I fear that my online absence is mistaken for indolence. That is not the case, but I will try again to maintain a potent virtual presence over the next couple months.

First, Daytona was an amazingly productive work space for me. I’ve completed approximately 70% of the transcriptions with The General. It is a long and tedious process, but I reap great rewards reconnecting with the material.

Second, earlier this month, I visited one of my favorite mentors – author and Professor Theodore Rosengarten – in McClellanville, South Carolina. He and his wife, Dale, requested a “Kenya debriefing session,” and I jumped at the opportunity to retell all of my stories to a relatively new audience (most of my family and friends have cut me off already). They were excited to listen to The General and watch some of my videos – a tour of the tea farm, a church service, the family reunion.

They encouraged me to keep my head down and finish the transcribing. “Dr. Ted” believes that once I read all of the transcriptions, an appropriate form will emerge to organize the material. It was wonderful to receive their guidance and support. Although it’s nice to hear my parents tell me how smart I am, Dr. Ted and Dale gave me a great deal of confidence that the work I’m doing is important – and mostly, they think that I can do it.

Third, my good friend Katie invited me to speak to her Global History summer school class last week. She teaches at a high school in Brooklyn/East New York. I told her that I only accept speaking fees in livestock, so she bought me a hamburger, and we called it even. She requested that I talk about Imperialism in Africa and the Kenyan Independence movement, but the kids wanted to hear more about life in Africa and how you could possibly bathe without a shower. I tried to strike a healthy balance between what might appear on their exam and what they found interesting – always a delicate dance.

I think they learned something and provided me with some good insight (”Instead of taking that gikama shit, I’d just climb a tree and run away” – said one 17-year-old boy in response to a story about the General’s father being accused of adultery and carrying the red-hot iron brick to prove his innocence. I thought the student might want to reconsider the order of events, “running” before “climbing a tree” but commended his idea.).

Katie was delighted with how the presentation went. She did get a little nervous when I started with, “In 1940, African soldiers fought with the British against the Japanese in World War II. There, they learned that the same bullet that would kill an African also killed a white person. For the first time, they realized the Europeans were vulnerable and defeatable.” All-in-all, a very good experience.

Forth, apologies for this very long blog. I will wrap up now and hopefully do another one within a week’s time. Hope everyone is having a lovely summer and doing their part to preserve a little piece of culture and history.

Sending good thoughts – Laura Lee/Nkirote

1 – Waving at this cute old man who rides his bicycle at the same time I go running on the beach – he always smiles and gives me a fist pump.

2 – Gushing about the generous samples that the Publix deli man gave me yesterday while waiting for my sliced meat. He invited me to come back at the same time tonight and provide my hours devours.

I wouldn’t think that I’d be happy like this – the loner, the weird young blonde locked in her room, her bikini only a drawer away, a sunny day outside on the beach…

I’m hunched over my laptop, frantically transcribing hours and hours of material, pumping my foot to control the transcribing pedal device. My phone’s off, the unsecured wireless network is only available sometimes – if you told me how this would be, I probably wouldn’t have come. But, I am so content right now.

I couldn’t figure it out – is my connection to the beach so strong that I forget to be lonely? Is cable television enough to distract me from the void of human contact? Can continuous access to ice cream in my freezer fulfill me as a person?

Then I realized – I’m not alone. I’m back with The General, reconnecting and reliving all of our conversations, all of our time together. From the recording that was interrupted by a big centipede almost falling on my head, to the many sessions that were interrupted by curious children, visiting to meet the strange mzungu – it’s awesome to reconnect with this material. It’s hard, it’s tedious, it’s long – but, oh my gosh, it’s awesome.

In the same day, I’ll be laughing til I cry and then crying til I laugh – I just thank God that I don’t have to do this in a coffee shop.

So…I guess all I’m saying is that I’m so where I need to be right now.  And it feels pretty good.

Hugs from Daytona – Laura Lee/Nkirote

1. I love flush toilets.
2. I also love ice cream, cold milk, and my family and friends here.
3. We don’t play the National Anthem before movies at the theater (in Nairobi theaters, everyone stands and sings before the main feature; an aside: in Mozambique, the movie has an intermission).
4. I don’t ask anymore if the chicken is fresh (in Kenya, it’s best to know when it was slaughtered, as refrigeration can be a problem).
5. I don’t mind getting bitten by mosquitoes in America – the bites just itch here, no airborne diseases and no mosquito nets (yay!).
6. The only goat-related product I’ve seen or consumed since my return has been goat cheese, which is quite tasty.
7. Flirtations in America do not involve any livestock offerings (my best offer in Zambia for marriage was 60 cows, but I never told him I couldn’t cook or clean).
8. I miss my Kenyan family terribly, and being a mzungu (white person) in America doesn’t attract much attention. J

HI TGHP FRIENDS!! I’m sorry for the delay in updates. I’m still indulging on all things that I love about this country and, at the same time, I’m missing my Kenyan routine and all the amazing people I left in that beautiful country.

Currently, I’m writing from Daytona, Florida. I’m hibernating here for the month of June to start transcribing my sessions with The General (generous family friends have allowed me to use their condo). I returned with nearly 100 hours of material, and it takes about 5 hours to transcribe every 1 hour of conversation (I’m refusing to do that math). I miss The General, and it’s been wonderful to revisit our time together by listening to the recordings.

I just wanted to make my blog re-debut before I let more than a month pass. With fast internet and consistent electricity, I really have no excuse. I’ll write more soon, with some excerpts of the material. Until then, I’m sending good thoughts your way…

Hugs – Laura Lee/Nkirote  

The South Imenti Tea SACCO Board of Directors (with the Chairman - standing, 3rd from left and Laura Lee). The General joked that I was training to take over as Chairman after he retired.

]]> http://thegeneralhistoryproject.com/2009/06/i-heart-flush-toilets/feed/ 0 http://thegeneralhistoryproject.com/2009/05/home-stretch/ http://thegeneralhistoryproject.com/2009/05/home-stretch/#comments Tue, 05 May 2009 20:00:38 +0000 Laura Lee http://thegeneralhistoryproject.com/blog/?p=147 Well, I just watched my last episode of WWE Monday Night Raw with my family in Kenya (and perhaps the last in my life – and I know it’s Tuesday night,  but I guess there’s a delay, so don’t tell me what happens!).  We had ugali (the staple food here – a maize meal porridge, like thick grits clumped together) and a goat stew with cabbage for dinner.  I’m going up to The General’s tomorrow morning at 7am to have my last breakfast with him and Jojo Jessica (The General bought corn flakes last week in order to get me used to American food again – we eat it with boiling milk, fresh from their cow, but it still feels more familiar than sweet potatoes).  We head to Nairobi in the afternoon, and then flight is on Thursday!  Just a hop, skip, and a really long freakin’ flight, and I’ll be home!

I can’t believe that my time here is up.  I will miss this place, these people, and my life here.  I’m extremely happy with the material that I’ve collected, and I look forward to sharing what The General has taught me.  I know that I haven’t written much about the “nitty-gritty” (quoting a recent email) of my time here, but I’ve been so busy, working hard – meeting with The General or related figures nearly every day, all-day, preparing questions, and reviewing our sessions – that I haven’t posted many specific updates regarding the progress. 

I think that I can use my experience here as a model on which to base future stories and historical preservation throughout the developing world.  I’m excited to get back to the States and make a business plan for The General History Project, Inc. (now an official 501(c)(3) organization!) and organize the material I’ve collected – perhaps in book-form.  At a minimum, I plan to begin the tedious task of transcribing the sessions with The General, so I might disappear for a bit to get the work done.  As always, I welcome any ideas for how to best move this project forward and present the material that I’ve collected along the way. 

So, I will catch everyone up and continue to post information about the project and The General and my Kenyan life after I get back.  But in the meantime, Laura Lee’s coming home…

Kwaheri – LL/Nkirote

“Nkirote, too much of anything is poisonous.” – The General