Kenya Edu-Tours

The Watha Story

Written by Aubrey Lavizzo

There I am, standing before thirty or so eager young learners in Primary school - prized gifts of pencils and writing paper in hand - in a little church in Voi in Kenya. They are there to learn about the fatal disease Rabies and how to recognize its signs in animals. My friend Sam Anabwani stands next to me. Sam is my interpreter. He speaks Swahili. I do not. But I am not there to speak to the children in English. No, I will speak to them in the “language” and actions of a rabid dog. What was I doing there? 

In 2012 there was an outbreak of Rabies in Kenya. Animals contracted the disease and died, and so did several children. Because access to Rabies vaccine was virtually nil in most of Kenya, the primary means of control was the destruction of dogs. That is why in 2014 I and four other veterinarians traveled to Kenya: to vaccinate as many dogs, cats, and donkeys as possible against Rabies in the two weeks we were there.

That is why I stood before this group of children, bewildered now as I - an elder - bent their norms of elder conduct by pretending to be a crazed dog. Most certainly my acting was un(der)appreciated; nevertheless, the message got across - I think: “Stay away from snarling crazed dogs!” - and strange old men, too! What was very clear was that the children, although bemused, were all eager to learn.

The next day our group visited the Watha Community Center just outside Voi.  Then under construction, the Community Center stood on under one hectare (~2 acres) just outside Voi, separated by the Nairobi to Mombasa highway and rail line. Upon the Center’s grounds were built several traditional thatch huts. In the center of the grounds stood an open sided shelter with benches along the periphery where we, their guests, were invited to sit. We watched as Watha women and men emerged from the huts in vibrantly colored dress, welcoming us into their community in a centuries-old tradition of song and dance, celebrating their culture. We listened attentively as they shared their story: 

Hundreds of years ago the Watha People came into Kenya from Ethiopia. They were one among several pastoralist peoples, owning cattle. However, a period of drought brought a war among pastoralists, and the Watha gave up their cattle and rekindled their hunting and gathering skills in the area Tsavo, known for its abundance of elephants. 

 For generations before the British colonized Kenya in the late 19th century Watha hunted elephants for food and ivory which was traded for goods. In 1948 the British declared the Tsavo area a national park named “Tsavo East” and hunting became illegal. Their livelihood and sustenance were abruptly taken away and they were left with neither homeland nor means of survival.

 When in 1963 Kenya gained its independence, little changed for the Watha. They were yet landless, without economic means . In the eyes of the newly independent Kenya government, they did not exist. 

Most Watha now live on small plots of land in the remote area of Shirango in Kilifi County. The women care for the children and the home, while the men work away from home. At home children help by collecting firewood and fetching water. 

Literacy among the Watha is for many reasons a luxury, and they are therefore largely unemployed, or they are casual laborers. Some work in wildlife conservancies; many work on farms or operate motorbikes; some engage in small-scale farming but frequently suffer crop failure due to inadequate and unpredictable rains, or raids by elephants; some keep livestock, usually cows or goats. And some returned to hunting, now poaching, as a means of economic survival.

Education of Watha children is not easily accessible or affordable. The closest primary school, Jira Primary, is some 7 km. (4.3 mi.) from Shirango village. Children must walk the distance to and from school every day, and often encounter wildlife.  Separately, school fees are born by the child’s family. There is no government funding for education and unfortunately, those families who own livestock must sometimes sell their livestock to pay school fees. Sadly, some families even sell their land to pay the fees. This is how strongly the Watha believe in education.  And that is why in 2019 I returned to Voi: to see if there was some way I could help. 

In 2014 I met respected Watha elder and leader Willie Kazunga and we struck an easy friendship. When I returned he invited me to stay with him and his family in their home. The day after I arrived we drove to the Watha Community Center where, again, I was welcomed in traditional song and dance, and where I was invited to join in dance. I did, but alas, both my left feet kept stepping on each other. Sadly, this was the highpoint of my day.

The jewel of the Watha people - the Community Center - had become a victim of  circumstances beyond control. Begun in 2013, the structures built to tell the Watha’s story had been destroyed by termites. The land upon which it was built had now been strikingly cut off from Voi and from sight of the highly traversed highway between Nairobi and Mombasa by the recently completed Standard Gauge Railway (SGR), which significantly decreased travel time between Nairobi and Mombasa - a vital commerce link. Tracks were laid on a 14’-high embankment that now obstructed what limited sight of the Community Center land there was from the highway. The Watha had now been cut off from access to Kenya’s vital tourist industry.

Kenya, known for its rich biodiversity, is the world’s top destination for viewing the Big 5 of wildlife - Elephant, Rhino, Lion, Leopard, and Buffalo. Lesser known but no less awe inspiring are its spectacular vistas and savannahs, particularly those of the Watha’s homeland Tsavo. That is where we journeyed the next day. To Shirango, the place where the largest population of Watha live.

Accompanied by Africa Network for Animal Welfare’s (ANAW) legal counsel Wachira Benson and community liaison Agnes Haloni, Kazunga and I left early for the long drive to Shirango. ANAW has, for years, advocated with the Kenya government for health services and educational facilities and teachers for the Watha. Some 50 miles and 1 hour later we turned onto a brick-red dirt road into a sparsely housed village and stopped.  I assumed we were close to Shirango. I was wrong. We picked up a guide, whose name I can’t recall. The guide, I later learned, was the only one among us who knew how to get to Shirango. 

Traveling along the dirt road at about 30 km/hour we intermittently passed small gatherings of mud homes. Each time I thought to myself, “We’re probably there.” Each time I was wrong. The road turned brighter red - a feature of southern Kenya's vibrant red soil laden with iron oxide. As we drove the road narrowed - now only a bit wider than the vehicle, now narrower - drifting directionless among acacia bushes. Now seemingly becoming a cattle trail or, yet again, a footpath.

After about 45 minutes we stopped. We’d come to a fork in the path - an acacia tree standing ahead, defiantly. Kazunga, Benson and the guide began pointing in different directions, referring to what looked like a hand drawn map on a sheet of paper, speaking in Swahili. You may recall that I do not speak Swahili. Agnes and I just looked at each other. That is when I began to wonder if we would ever get to Shirango, or if we would ever get out of there.  

But I didn’t really worry, because in my travels in Kenya, living with people not of the privilege in which I live, I have been accepted. They are my friends whom, without question, I trust. So, with trust as my guide, I did what I probably shouldn’t have done: I got out. But only after doing a scan for wildlife, right? I had to pee! Still pointing in different directions, their voices more animated now, Kazunga and Benson never even noticed. I found a bush close by.

Finally, about a half hour later, we drove through a gate onto the site of the Shirango Dispensary - a communal gathering place of the Watha. The dispensary, or health center, was built by the Kenya Ministry of Health and the World Bank, is a modern facility housing offices, treatment rooms, a dispensary, and other features necessary to provide a range of health services. Fully operational now, the facility was only a shell of empty rooms when we visited. There was no furniture or equipment. Nor was there a tank for storing water.

What was there were a hundred or so men, women, and children - families, most, of several generations. All awaiting our arrival. Welcomed again in the Watha custom of song and dance, I chose not to dance. Afterwards we gathered in the atrium between the two buildings. In turn Kazunga and Benson spoke in Swahili - Kazunga about the purpose of my visit. Wachira of his on-going advocacy with the Kenya government to improve conditions for the Watha. 

The elders then spoke of their hopes and wishes for the education of the children - softly and politely as is their comport. I then said a few words which, I am certain, could not have adequately expressed my appreciation for their graciousness and acceptance of me. Nor could I have expressed how much more deeply committed I felt then, and now.

As we left Shirango I felt a bit overwhelmed, not knowing what I could do to serve the Watha’s supplication for their children’s education or how I could do what I had never before done. All I knew was that whatever little or large help I could offer would be humbly and graciously appreciated. 

And that is why I will return to my Watha family in March 2023. I hope that you too will join me.

-Aubrey