Oxfam's Tom Baldwin reports from displaced people's camps in western Kenya.

As the high-level mediation efforts continue, hundreds of thousands of displaced people still don't know how long they will have to wait until it is safe to return home. Their lives are effectively on hold, and they are filling their time as best they can.

In Endebese, near Kitale, businesses have begun to spring up inside the camp.  Some have erected makeshift stalls selling vegetables and other food.   Many people have brought their livestock with them to the camp, often preferring to keep them close to their tents for fear of theft – cattle rustling is common in the area.

Sheltering in the shadow cast by one of a few trees I found Morris Sanja, a tailor, busy sewing a seam to a blue skirt. "It was the only thing I could think to bring with me,” says Morris pointing to his sowing machine “it's a part of my life.  I carried it all the way here – 15 kilometres in all. With my sewing machine I can make a small amount of money, I need to support my family – I have five children.  People here have very little money, they will only use my service when they have to and even then I must charge a lower rate to make repairs.”

Adapting to change

One of the largest camps has been established in the Show Ground in Eldoret, which would normally be playing host to an agricultural show at this time of year. Inside the camp I met the Principle of the High School, Mr Paul M. Ngethe, surrounded by several men assembling flat-packed school desks. Mr Ngethe had been seconded to the Show Ground after his own school was burned down during the post-election violence.

“We have 700 pre-school children, 2,700 primary, and 510 high school students. There aren’t enough classrooms so the classes take turns using the tents. There are 19 government-funded teachers including myself but we couldn’t operate without volunteers – we have almost 100 volunteer teachers, some from within the camp and others who have come in from outside. It’s not easy to teach in these conditions but now we have these desks it will help the children to concentrate.”

Walking around the school ground, the children appear to have adapted well to their new environment. Some classes are held outside and some in tents, some with desks and others without, but the appetite for learning is consistent.

Filling the long hours in the camp can be difficult and sports such as football and volleyball offer a welcome distraction. At one of the water points I meet Jessie who tells me to come with him to watch the football match that’s currently underway. “We’ve divided the camp into eight teams,” he tells me, “we’re running a full tournament with the final next Tuesday.”

Eldoret is the principle town in central Rift Valley Province, also known as East Africa’s breadbasket on account of the volume of maize and other crops produced in the area. But as time goes on there is a dual threat looming over the displaced population. January and February mark the land preparation season in Kenya and for the majority of the displaced, being absent from their land at such a crucial time is a huge concern. Failure to prepare the land to plant their crops when the rainy season begins is likely to carry severe consequences for longer-term food security, not just locally but throughout Kenya. 

When the rains do arrive, conditions within the camps will deteriorate markedly. Oxfam Public Health Promoter, Wangari, explains: “The rains will turn the camp to mush, mud everywhere, drainage sumps flooded and a much higher risk to people’s health especially respiratory disease and diarrhoea.”

Tough decisions

For those with the necessary means: friends or relatives to stay with and money to pay their fare, there is the opportunity for a new life away from the camp. Twice a day a bus leaves the Show Ground destined for Nairobi. Demand for places is high – from its peak of 18,000  the population of the camp has fallen gradually to around 13,000. The bus won’t leave until all the seats are taken and every inch of available space has been packed with what little belongings people have salvaged from the life they’ve now left behind.

As the bus pulled away one of the passengers called through an open window, “There is nothing here for us, in Nairobi maybe we can begin again.”

It is clear that it is not just the Kenyan politicians who are facing tough decisions. For the displaced it is a hard reality: remain in the camp in the uncertain hope that normality will return, or uproot one’s family and leave behind jobs, schools, and friends in search of a new home where they can feel safe.