Slum Upgrading 2.0

It took us twenty five minutes to find the political science department at the University of Nairobi. First, we asked the young pair of girls. “Over there” they told us. Of course, they were wrong. We walked into another building that a gentleman advised us to, and the hallways were barred off. I saw a man through the bars and went up to the gates – as if I were in prison, grasping the bars to get out – and asked where the department of political science is. “Over there” he told us, pointing to the direction from which we came.

We finally found the department, but all the office doors were locked. Makes sense, considering school is out of session because of petty politics that led to a massive student boycott. The hope is that school will resume after the referendum.

The “real” department of politics was much more accessible. Or, at least, open.

We walked right into the Ministry of Lands. Sure, they asked for my passport, but my girlfriend’s outdated school ID did the trick. Even for me.

The staircases were packed. Off to meetings. Or to eat. Where most of the “work” gets done anyway. Lunchtime.

After stops on the first few floors to ask about available data (none of which seems to be available), and being told that the person to talk to was “at lunch” we finally found a Deputy Minister several floors up.

Bolton is quite the gentleman. He sat behind a big desk, and seemed delighted to speak with us. He was most excited about the department’s new project: Slum Mapping. He spoke very slowly and enunciated each phrase, after which he would give out a big, hearty laugh. He made sure to make it sound as if he were giving out classified information. He told me of the Kenyan Slum Upgrading Program and the World Bank’s Informal Sector Upgrading projects, as if I have never heard of important institutions. He continued, “We have a meeting at 2 o’clock today to discuss these urgent matters. That is why I know so much about what is going on in the slums.”

I asked him if he knew about the latest service delivery projects being carried out in these areas. “No,” he responded, “But I have a friend who does.” I asked him if he had access to the slum maps. “No, but I have a friend who made the maps.”

“Very few people will share the information that I am sharing,” he told us, rather pleased with himself. “They have such big egos. It’s people like me who have a lot of interest in statistics, and I can share them with you.” If he only had the information.

Bolton explained how people “know” certain things but will not share it. But Bolton is different – he will.

“I have made so many PhDs happen” after we thanked him for helping us. “I will only help you.”

Lesson Number One when dealing with Kenyan bureaucrats: Make them feel like a Big Man.

“You’re the man,” I told Bolton as I left, forgetting that he is 30 years my elder. But he liked it, and gave me a long fancy handshake, similar to the ones I used to do at summer camp. I felt like I was part of his club.

Bolton may have had the big desk and the flashy suit, but the World Bank calls the shots. I asked Bolton why certain slums were designated for slum upgrading. He answered that the World Bank have certain criteria. “But,” he continued. “The World Bank wants us to work together.” The World Bank led the 2 o’clock meeting. I asked him what the Ministry’s role in the project is.

“We provide the base map specifications,” Bolton responded. Kenya provides the slums. The World Bank provides the money. And the manpower. And even the “land tenure.” This was the process of formalizing the informal.

Gloria, who worked with the Ministry of Housing, was able to fill in the dots of the resettlement scheme. Everything is called a “scheme” in Kenya, dating back to the postcolonial resettlement “schemes.” A genealogy of the word would be extremely helpful. The pilot slum upgrading project was now being done in Kibera. People from Soweto East village of Kibera have been temporarily moved to high-rise temporary structures while permanent houses are being built in the village.

I asked Gloria why Soweto East was chosen. “Most of the villages have a big NGO presence. They have already been approached by many,” she said, enunciating the word ‘approached’. “They have already been promised services. Been lied to. Soweto is still new. Still fresh.”

Of course, it is also in Kibera, less than 20 minutes from City Center in the city’s largest slum. It is also on the West side of town.

“As the government, we have to have political goodwill,” she told me. “We have to negotiate to the last man. If you promise security of tenure, then the people are more receptive. We have done that.”

Gloria’s explanation of the process highlighted how political the process in fact was. In my conversation with international NGO representatives and development workers, slum upgrading was always described as apolitical. “We are just trying to help poor people,” one NGO leader told me. “We don’t want to involve ourselves in politics.” She continued that her funders would not approve.

But the process Gloria was describing was entirely political. They had to convince the councillors and MPs. They had to sweet-talk the chief. And they had to promise the people title. Something only the State could provide, because it was officially government land. The State must be involved for the slum upgrading to work. And it was the political promise of the land title that mattered most.

Gloria was proud of what the program was accomplishing. “New homes for slum dwellers,” she told us. “A better life.” Hopefully.

If the University of Nairobi were open maybe they could tell me if this is in fact the case. But they are not.