Many companies struggle with retaining and engaging the Millennials. Understandably. Most company cultures are organized around managing employees. Even those who 'enable' their employees use rules that are deeply embedded in the culture. These rules, while not transparent to the company, are obvious to the employee under thirty. When I look across the demographic in the workplace I see a trend that closes the performance gap with all the groups from Millenials to Boomers: a focus on purpose. The only difference is that Boomers have learned to 'suck it up' and Millenials won't have any part of it. The separation between emotion and action is impossible for those under forty, unless they have learned to seriously compromise themselves.
It is exciting to see what those global minds under twenty-five are up to. This story comes from a friend of my daughter's who is now working in Africa. He had been to Africa, returned home to go to school and then, after the election, returned. He is now working on a Youth Leadership Program teaching young people how to actively participate in political and social change. His initiative would join those like the 'Canadians for Obama' effort posted on Facebook. Enjoy this story of inspiration in action.
My friends,
I am back in Kenya, and with so many things passing through my mind as I see a changed country, I will occasionally be sending messages back home to friends and colleagues. If you don't want to be included in these emails, please just let me know (not a problem!), and I will remove your address.
It's nearly sunrise and I've been putting off writing this message for hours. Knowing there is so much to say, and (as cliche as it sounds) not knowing how to say it.
As most of you probably know, I spent 2006/2007 working for an organization called ACCES in a beautiful little hole in the wall town called Kakamega (literal translation: to take ugali *main staple food* ...this was misunderstood as the village name by the former colonial rulers). To save you all a lot of time and energy wasted on reading excessive adjectives, be assured that I loved Kakamega. I still DO love Kakamega.
Naturally, all that I experienced and grew to embrace in my past times in Kenya continues to paint my view of the country today. And despite my best efforts to forget some of the heartache its people have been subjected to in recent months, Kenya is unmistakably a different place.
~
I can remember the exact place and time when I found out, just hours after having hiked out of a 5-day snowshoe jaunt in the mountains with dear friends, that Kenya had descended into violence after a flawed election. To say it was a major shift in mindset would be putting it lightly. From that moment, the pressing issues facing Kenya raced through my mind more than anything else in my life. My worry for Kenya consumed me, forcing me to keep my finger on the pulse of international contacts and media at all hours of the day.
And now I am back, and in many ways, struggling to reconcile what appear to be two very different Kenya's: the one I left in July, regarded (perhaps mistakingly) as a bedrock of stability in Sub-Saharan Africa; and the one I have found in the present, now mostly beyond the sexy international media frenzy brought on by gory, neighbor-on-neighbor slaughter and senseless destruction. Pictures of machete wielding youth, drenched in sweat and with deep yellow eyes, have an incredible ability to garner front-page coverage on the "it" day. But the next week, once the agitated youth and disheartened citizens have traded in their weapons for a quasi-commitment to a fragile "peace" deal based on promises from two seasoned politicians (who both rather blatantly stoled votes in the recent election), the story is no longer of interest to the world. If you didn't know otherwise, it's like as if the issue had completely disappeared.
I am not saying that Kenya is buried in senseless violence and chaos...in fact, far from it. Walking around Nairobi yesterday, even as riots and clashes with police carried on a few minutes away in the slum of Kibera, the general scene was perfectly normal and calm. What I am saying is that, from what I have heard from Kenyan friends and colleagues over the past month, and from what I have seen quite clearly for myself this past week, the country is still terribly delicate, and if inappropriate action were taken, the whole place could topple at any time, creating even worst scenes of carnage and unrest.
Potential for trouble is a uncontrollable beast, and a scary one at that. Today, this potential, sadly, appears alive and well in Kenya. Sitting over our dinner a few nights ago in a region of Nairobi called Langata, situated literally across the river from the riots of Kibera, my friend Joyce made a very basic and otherwise unnoticeable comment. She said, "you know, the problem is, people are biased, aren't they?" The simplicity and honesty of her words can be viewed as a clear example of the simmering challenges - dangers - facing Kenya today.
~
It didn't take me long to grow tired of Nairobi, and so I booked a ticket to Kisumu, from where I would travel to Kakamega and my favorite part of the nation. As we flew to Kisumu, two times over after having initially been sent back to Nairobi after a landing attempt was botched because of bad weather, I thought about all the generous and warm friends I would soon greet. And then it struck me, that for example Rajab, who despite facing otherwise great challenges (poverty, minimal education, few employment opportunities, etc.) was an extremely happy guy, and had now become a heavily burdened young man. Despite a determined will and strong belief in the greater good, Rajab is scarred by wounds that do not heal over night. Having watched several of his friends be killed in front of his eyes, himself being beaten on several occasions, carrying his malaria-ridden 4 year old brother 30 km by foot to escape harm, and being forced to flee his own country and be a refugee in a camp for displaced peoples for weeks on end, with little food or water in sight; these things all take their toll.
I was greeted by Rajab at the airport, despite my flight landing 5 hours past the scheduled arrival time, and I was not surprised to see a man with a smile stretched across his face, beaming with exuberance. We traveled the long and bumpy road, which just hours before had been impassable because of protesters blocking the road and stoning vehicles trying to pass, and went straight to Rajab's homestead to greet the rest of the family. Along the way, we passed countless buildings that had been scorched during the outbreaks of violence...physical scars on the face of the community.
Finally in the company of Rajab's entire family, including 9 wee-ones under the age of 5, I was met with open arms and warm chai. Despite not being able to grow any crops this year after they were forced to flee their land during the crucial planting season, the family still served up a full meal, made over fire in a smoky mud room, not whisked out of a microwaveable container. The food tasted good, and the company made me feel at home. It is, in fact, home.
~
On my first night in Kakamega, I go to a Rotary meeting with a friend, to hear about how some of the affected families - a young boy shot in the leg and forced into a wheelchair; a mama without any source of income to care for her family and take her children to school - are now being supported by local community members in rebuilding their lives. It is an incredible thing to witness, and one that strikes a chord in me all the way to the bone: that we must look after one another. A simply reminder.
On my way home, sitting on the back of a push-bicycle "taxi", rushing down the path where I stay, we are stopped by 4 armed police officers. They look at us in a rather menacing way, and the man who's bicycle I am sitting on is clearly (and for good reason) more scared than I am. He has to see and pass these officers everyday in the community. They curse at us, and one of them points his finger screaming "WEWE WEWE WEWE" ("YOU YOU YOU"). Finally, before letting us leave, one of them grabs his kalishnakov rifle and swings it back full force, just until it stand an inch from the face of the taxi rider.
We stop dead in our tracks. Not sure of what to do, neither of us say anything. And these police officers, the beholders of an ultimate authority with their rifles clutched strongly in their hands, stare at us coldly and full of insolence.
We wait for some minutes until they pass, and as I alight, my friend almost rides off, ghost-faced, without collecting his fare. Trust you me, not a common occurrence amongst bicycle taxi riders, or "boda-boda's", as they are known.
And so here I am...loving Kenya and loving being in Kenya, and hoping that Kenyans continue to find incredible ways of facing problems that would make many people hide away in fear.
Recent Comments