
I arrived in Nairobi last night and checked into my hotel. The first thing I did was unpack my computer and plug in my headset. I'm here in Kenya to conduct a press conference announcing some major, positive developments for
CMMB here. So, naturally, I was excited about setting up my "mobile office" in my hotel room. That's where I'll conduct the majority of my business while in Kenya.
After I booted up my laptop, I learned that I could get an Internet connection, albeit a very weak one. So weak, in fact, that I could not access email, could not access my
Skype account, could not access much of anything except
Tetris and blackjack. While the latter two are certainly worthwhile to have while traveling, they do little to help me communicate with media representatives around the world, my office, and my home.
So at just before midnight, I requested a change to a room where I could have a stronger access to the Internet, and to the programs and files I need. The front desk clerk was most gracious and agreed to move me to another room. Within a few minutes, though, she called back to tell me that the signal would be no stronger in another room; that I should just stay in my room and "try it again tomorrow."
I like to think of myself as a pretty patient guy (although I'm not sure those closest to me would always agree with that), but after 23 hours on planes and in airports, I was less than a patient guy last midnight. To my credit, I didn't say the things I was thinking: "Lady, I respect that it's late. I also respect that Kenya is a developing nation and that I can't expect lightening Internet speeds. But I am paying good money to stay in a hotel that promises good quality Internet connections in every room. I want my access and I want it now!"
Instead, I thanked her and agreed to stay in my room. There had to be some way around this and I was determined to find that way. The first order of business was to pry the dried out contact lenses from my eyes. They'd been in for two straight days and I could barely see through them. I then put on my glasses and set about getting my Internet access.
I should explain that my contact lenses are bi-focal. I don't know how they work, but they do. My glasses, though, are only single vision. I'm too vain to have the line in my glasses and too cheap to spring for the
line less bi-
focals. So I have to constantly move the glasses from the tip of my nose, back to the bridge, take them off, put them back on, back to the tip of my nose, and so on. This is just to dial a telephone number. So you can imagine what it was like wandering about my hotel room trying to find a sweet spot with a stronger wireless signal.
I moved from the desk with my laptop in hand. I stood up on the bed and tried the connection from there. No luck. Next I went into the bathroom. Standing in the shower offered one signal bar strength better, but I've never been too comfortable with electronic things around water. Standing in the corner and holding the computer high above my head proved even better. Although the signal was still very low, the indicator moved a tiny bit toward green. At least I think it did. Trying to adjust my glasses with one hand and rock the computer back and forth with the other to optimize the signal strength made me dizzy and I couldn't really see the signal indicator very well.
Next I opened the window and held the computer outside. This is not the rainy season in Nairobi, so I figured this was worth a shot. Bingo. Now I had a "fair" signal. That means I can at least send and receive email, but it's still not strong enough to make telephone calls or access my files from New York. But here I am, hanging out the window of my hotel room at 1:30 in the morning and I realize that I can't hold the computer and type at the same time. So this probably wasn't a viable option.
I then repeated my route: Standing on the bed, climbing in the shower, reaching above the sink, risking life (and computer) by leaning out the window. All to no avail. This is 2008. Is it so unreasonable to expect and get Internet access when you want it? Cost wasn't an issue because access is free with the room. But if it is not accessible, it's no help.
I finally gave up and went to bed. After a few hours of sleep, I tried it again and still had no adequate access.
A little later in the morning I was speaking with my friend Doris
Odera. Doris is the
CMMB interim country director in Kenya and a lovely person. I figured she would have great sympathy when I told her of my hotel room gymnastics to get a decent Internet connection.
Before our conversation could turn to my woes, we talked a bit about the people of Kenya and what their
healthcare needs are. Beyond statistics and the kinds of diseases affecting Kenyans, Doris said that the big issue here is access to medical care. Cost is not a problem, but gaining access to to treatment is a big challenge in rural areas. That, of course, is why
CMMB's work is so critical to the people of this beautiful country.
I'm sure the rest of the conversation was interesting, but for a few moments my mind left the room. I was seeing myself, half asleep, trying without success to gain Internet access last night. I was looking at this goofy American stand on his toes in the shower holding a computer, risking life and limb by stretching out the window with a white laptop. How urgent was my quest for an Internet connection that I would do just about anything.
The ah-ha moment, of course, was seeing the foolishness of my quest. I was half crazy trying to connect to the Internet while people here struggle to gain access to even basic medical care. Suddenly, this is not about the Internet or laptops or a press conference. Instead, it's about the children, women, and men who deserve to live in good health. They are why I'm in Kenya. They are why
CMMB is here.
Somehow, having immediate access to my email or my voicemail just doesn't seem so important. I'm sure this moment of reflection will be fleeting and soon enough I'll be doing handstands in my hotel room trying to increase the wireless signal to my computer. But at least my focus will be on access that is far more important than the kind I'm looking for.
In case I forget that, I put a photo at the top of this post. These are children that I saw the last time I was here in Kenya. And their needs far outweigh me having access to my email.