Crumbs from our table

On the streets of Nairobi, Eldoret, and Plateau, I see people wearing clothes from North America, sometimes even from my hometown. Last week in Nairobi, I saw a woman wearing an Oilers jersey, on an Eldoret Avenue, a “Cassie Campbell Street Hockey Tournament” t-shirt, on a dirt road to the farm a young boy with a Toronto Maple Leaf jacket. Initially, one might think, “that is so cool!” Years ago, during my first trip to Nigeria, I thought it was kind of cool. Now, I have reason to pause when I see this.

The amount of used clothing here first struck me as I went on a search for Kenyan fabric that I might quilt with. My experience in Nigeria had been that there was beautiful Nigerian cloth everywhere – in markets, in stores, on the street corners. Women took great pride in their outfits (and Nigerians even have a reputation here for being well-dressed). I had made the incorrect assumption that this would be the case in Kenya. There is the red Maasai cloth and some bright cottons called kikoy, but even these can be difficult to locate. I started observing what people were wearing, and where they were getting it. And something started to bother me.

We (and I am included) in the “First world” or “Northern Hemisphere” apparently send our leftovers to less developed countries. And it is not always the nicest clothes that get sent. I saw a small child with a “Miami mice” t-shirt on. That has got to be at least two decades ago!
I think of the story of Lazarus the beggar in Luke 16 eating the crumbs off the rich mans table. “There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and lived in luxury every day. At his gate was laid a beggar named Lazarus, covered with sores and longing to eat what fell from the rich man’s table.” The rich man ended up in hell while Lazarus was seated in heaven and the rich man was begging for Lazarus to “dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue.” Like it or not, we are the rich man and the majority of the world is Lazarus. What are we called to do? What are we going to do? I, myself, am so supremely challenged by this. Do I wear my linen and give my leftovers? Do we just give away our old and unwanted clothing, the crumbs from our table after the feast?
And it is not just the “developing countries” that get the leftovers. A friend who volunteered in Louisiana after Hurricane Katrina said they had to spend money getting rid of horrendous clothes donated by generous people. He said, and I read in various articles, that people had donated prom dresses and 1980’s one-piece silk jumpsuits. Now, imagine you live in the Superdome with 10,000 other people and you don’t even have a toilet. Are you going to want to put on someone’s old prom dress?
I think about some of the things I have donated in the past, and I am embarrassed that I expected someone else “less fortunate” to wear it. I thought, “well, they should appreciate having clothes at all!” What a poor attitude on my part. Why should someone, anyone, get my old leftovers. Are they not deserving of something new, just like I would buy for myself?

Something else that began to bother me was the lack of a local, indigenous clothing market or industry. Now, I don’t expect people to dress in their traditional clothes from 50 or 100 years ago, but it has been hard to find anything that has been made in Kenya other than school uniforms. I started to ask questions of my host family, friends, and colleagues. I have been told that four textile factories in the Eldoret area alone have closed in recent past, resulting not only in a loss of locally produced clothing, but a major loss in jobs. One colleague commented, “the used clothes are very cheap and so it makes us very happy to get such cheap clothes, but many local factories have closed down now because of it.” National Geographic, in the Africa issue last year, also reported that the influx of used clothing is essentially destroying the African textile industry.
This was reinforced by an article in the Daily Nation, a popular Kenyan newspaper, titled “Man sees hand of God in recall to garment firm.” The story is that William Odumbe had a well paying job in a garment factory which was shut down seven years ago. Unable to find a new job and forced to rely on his brother for help to buy food for his children, Mr. Odumbe said, “that was the time I wanted to look for a rope and hang myself, but something inside me told me to carry on.” Now, seven years later, another firm has decided to re-invest in the factory, update the equipment, and Mr. Odumbe was the first man they hired back. His joy and restored dignity practically leaps off the newsprint.

Now, you may be wondering how your skirt or dress shirt went from your closet to the market stalls in Eldoret? Well, used clothing establishments get an excessive amount of goods donated to them. Rather than throw away the excess, they sell it in large bundles to people here in Africa, and it takes a nice holiday cruise over the Atlantic. Once the bundles arrive, entrepreneurs buy a whole or part of a bundle in bulk and head to the market to make a buck. Some people just buy a stack and sell each piece for about 50 cents. Others are selective and find the best quality pieces to hawk on the street. It is common in downtown Eldoret to see a man wearing 10 suit jackets. At first I thought they were like the homeless in downtown Calgary, wearing every layer of clothing they had ever owned. Then I realized that they were selling the men’s suit jackets but they were their own walking stalls. Some of the clothes are actually still in good condition, others are years old, or have rips and stains (and are then sold much cheaper).

I am not sure that there is a surefire solution to these issues. I am certainly not against donating used clothing to the various outlets that accept them. After all, I grew up on second hand clothing, and have frequently donated my clothes that no longer fit or are flowing out of my closet. So, I don’t want to say, “Stop donating clothes” as there are people who will genuinely get a second or third use out of it. Recycling clothes also keeps them out of landfills.

When we do donate clothes, perhaps we should consider why we are giving it away. Is it filled with stains? Consider cutting it up into rags and use it to dust or clean your toilet. Is it way out of fashion? There are programs in high schools that accept old prom and bridesmaid dresses and re-fashion them into dashing new ball gowns for low income girls. (Cinderella project in Calgary, at least three of my bridesmaid dresses went there) Think about why you want to get rid of something and imagine a person on a downtown street in Calgary or Nairobi wearing it. Are you giving linens or crumbs?

photo link

i have started to upload photos to picasa, as i can work offline with it and it is connected to my gmail and blog. if the connection was every fast enough i could probably make nice slideshows. but at the moment i have 5 minutes of battery time on the computer left, so I will post the link to my public gallery here...
http://picasaweb.google.com/alidafernhout

i hope it works... i hope to upload some more photos soon.

out of necessity

In the past month I have lost count of the number of professional athletes I have met in my town and village. I have a cousin (I have been adopted by a family here) who runs for the country of Qatar and was inbetween trips to Korea and Switzerland. Some teenage boys walking home with me told me that their older brothers are in Venezuela on running scholarships. A friend who owns an internet café was a hurdler for the University of Arkansas. A man on the dirt road near my house, stopped and said “my name is Vincent Limo. I am a marathon runner and run all over the world. Do you know me?” I met an Olympic gold medalist the other day, and accidentally assumed he was the mechanic there to fix the car. Olympic runners seem to come a dime a dozen here. I am sure that every third person here is a professional runner of some sort.

My cousin, who runs 5km in 13 minutes (I can barely tie my shoes up in that time) commented to me that “you north Americans run for exercise; we run out of necessity.” I asked him to explain. He said that as a child, he had to walk or run 7km to school, each way. If it was raining, they ran the whole way. If they had to herd the cows, they had to run after wild cows or the predators out to get them. One colleague often recounts his childhood encounters with wild animals (i.e. giraffes, elephants, leopards). There are not nice smooth city paths here or indoor tracks and gyms. One has to dodge potholes, jump over fallen trees, and find their way down paths in the forest. They don’t run for exercise, they run out of necessity. Watch out for that leopard!