Follow Margo at her new blog address

Kenya Help has recently launched a new website but the URL is the same – http://kenyahelp.us/

We’ve also moved Margo’s blog to that same website – click here .

Craig

 

#21 2014 The Days Just Keep Being Interesting

#21 2014 The Days Just Keep Being Interesting

My plan was for a relaxing day, but you’ve probably noticed by now that my days rarely go according to plan.  This one was no exception.  The car I drive, which I share with Fr. Kiriti needed new tires.  We had negotiated the price before he went back to Kositei last weekend, so this morning I went down the road to the central part of town to meet with Nellie, Fr. K’s friend, who runs a tire store—actually a hole-in-the-wall shop with a thriving business.  I had stopped by yesterday to ask whether I could pay by credit card and she assured me they could do that.

I sat on the bench, reading my book while the tires were being mounted when along came Simon Kingori.  I’ve known him for years.  He runs a small uniform shop where most of the local school kids get theirs.  He’s a good person who has helped kids with school fees and such and I had thought about him as a possible Rotary member.  So when he greeted me I invited him to share my bench while I told him about Rotary.  I took Jesse Wahome as a guest last week and he likes what he saw, so I was encouraged to invite more folks I know, thinking maybe I can recruit a few more members—the club here is very active, but small.  Like Jesse, Simon seemed interested and has agreed to go as my guest next Wednesday evening.

The tires mounted,  I handed Nellie my card.  Well, it turns out I was to be their initial CC buyer, their maiden voyage onto the sea of virtual money.  We tried everything.  They have a small device which can swipe a magnetic strip or read a chip—except we couldn’t make it work.  After about 20 minutes, I said, “That’s it, I’ll go to the ATM and get what I can today.  Then I’ll go back tomorrow and the next day.”  It’s a pain in the backside, but I could see the maiden voyage had crashed on the rocks.  The guy who sold them the device will have to come back with lesson # 2.

Pulling up to the bank I was about to get out when I realized I had my credit card but not my debit card.  ACK!  Just then the little man who collects parking fees for the city came up to get my ksh 80, which always burns me up.  That’s almost $1 to park.  ARGH!!!  Too much!  But I told him I had not gotten out of the car and I was leaving.  He was none too pleased, but then neither was I.

Going home, I  realized going to the ATM 3 times is more of a nuisance than I had patience for, so I decided to cash in some US money I had, knowing I would need it in shillings before I leave here anyway.  Back to the parish.  Each time I go home or leave, the gateman for the parish compound has to open the gate for me, so I feel very guilty if I come and go too much.  But I had to pay for the tires, so back I went, got my dollars and went to the bank.  Fr. Kiriti had told me which bank to use and the name of the woman he deals with.  When I saw her I realized I had met her before, last year with Jecinta.  She was so gracious and got me a very good rate, which was very nice.  She does all the banking for Empower the World (our Kenya Help foundation here) and is willing to give us great service.   Back in the car, with my thick wad (ksh 86.5 to the dollar) I worried a bit, remembering the time Fr. Kiriti was car jacked having come out of a bank with a thick wad of bills.  The bills are ksh 1000, but even at that, I had a stack almost 1” high.  I watched everyone, and headed right to Nellie, where my wad was very effectively reduced, as tires are expensive here and I had to get 4.

One of the workers wanted to buy 2 of the tires, which he said could be used more.  I hadn’t thought about what I would do with the old tires.  In the US, we blithely drive in, get the new tires and leave, having paid a fee for disposal.  Here people take them home for who knows what, but I knew I didn’t want 4 smelly tires in my car.  I called Fr. Kiriti to negotiate a price, but it was an on-going discussion when I left.  Have to go back tomorrow.

While I was sitting on the bench, it occurred to me that after my lunch I could go visit Simon Ng’ang’s (pronounced Nang ya), one of the first friends I made here.  He was a math teacher at Ndingi in 2005 and assigned himself to be sure I had tea, lunch and anything else I needed.  We’ve been friends ever since.  He has definitely moved up in the world, having landed the position of chief for the area just above SFG.  I’ve visited him at home and at his office, so I called to see whether today would be a good time.  “Come this afternoon to my office.”

When I arrived I saw several people waiting for their hearing with him and there were maybe 7 or 8 people in a meeting in the office—about 10 x10, with benches, several tables, one of which serves as his desk, and a fancy chair for the chief.  I waited in the car and was glad I’d stuck a book in my purse for the wait at the tire shop.  Pretty soon out he came, big grin on his face and a bear hug for me.  He’s put on some weight, used to be skinny, but it gives him a look of importance.  He’s one of God’s nice people, polite, smiling, ready wit and just nice.  He invited me into the office and I sat there while he dealt with a couple needing a letter—something about their land and while I didn’t understand a word, I could see the kind way he spoke to them and explained he couldn’t write the letter until they brought their identity cards and the ID numbers of all their kids.  Nothing happens here w/o an ID.  They left and we chatted, while his advisors, elders, sat reading the paper and occasionally responding to what we were saying.

Then a young man came to see him, also for a letter.  It seems he has worked for 7 months but the employer has refused to pay him.  Again I understood nothing, but the man spoke so earnestly and had such an open face, I believed him, as did Simon, who wrote the letter, sending the employer to the labor board to answer the charges regarding why he is refusing to pay.  I could see how good he is at his chief job, which is mainly resolving disputes between people or families, but occasionally other matters as well.  It takes care of a number of cases before they get to the courtroom, clogging up an already unmoving judicial system.  It’s a good system if the chief is a good guy.  Simon has always had a sense of what’s fair, a respect for people and patience to listen to the story.  His people respect and appreciate him.  Soon after the young man left with his letter, another matter came up and I could see this was a busy day for him, so I left him to do his work.  Hope to see him next week.

Since I was in the neighborhood of SFG, I stopped by to take care of some matters and hope to find a student who has asked for math help.  This morning I’d made a dental appointment for Jacqueline, the girl with the artificial leg, whose front teeth are broken and need to be repaired.  At 16 she has never been to a dentist, so I can just imagine what the diagnosis will be on Monday.  I had to tell Ruth we would be picking her at 7 am, to get to central Nairobi by 9:15.  Took care of several other matters, then found the girl—Jacqueline, as it turns out and we spent over an hour talking about her last test, which was not good.  She’s so bright, but she’s missed some math along the way.  I could see the wheels grinding as she began to see what had been murky.  “You’ve had some real AHA’s, haven’t you?”  This after we were done for the day.  Seeing her puzzled face I explained an AHA is that moment when the light dawns.  Oh, yes, she knew what that was and yes, she’s had some.

We talked a bit about her future, which is very hopeful, if she works her little behind off.  I told her I thought she could earn the requisite B+ or A- required for regular admission to university and if she managed to pull that off, I was sure we could cover her greatly reduced costs.  Just to remind you, she lost her leg and her father in a matatu accident 1 ½ years ago, leaving her mother with 5 kids and no job.  Her only hope is to make it into the university and I realized it was important that she got that message.  Unlike Quinter, about whom I wrote yesterday, she hadn’t quite put it all together, but once I laid it out for her, she really got it.  This girl will make it through sheer determination because it’s her only hope.

By then it was 5:30 and I was tired, but needed to go to the Naivas.  I’ve been carrying around an extra empty 20 liter water bottle for several day and wanted to get back my deposit.  When Judy was here and we were using a lot of bottled water, I bought 2 of these big bottles.  Since I had only 1 empty to return they made me pay a deposit on the bottle of ksh 1295—over $15!!!!  I made sure it was refundable, then paid it, but I was really stunned.  The contents cost something like ksh 350 (about $4).  Yeah, the bottle is worth nearly 4 times the value of the water!

Armed with my receipt and carrying the empty bottle, I bought the few things I needed and queued up with the rest of the Friday night shoppers.  The end of the month is also payday, so the store was full.  The clerk was totally flummoxed by the empty bottle but I didn’t want another full one.  “You have to see them over at that desk.”  So off I trotted, bottle in hand to see the young woman I’d dealt with severally on other matters.  She too couldn’t figure out what I wanted.  “I bought 2 bottles of water but had only one empty.  I had to pay an enormous deposit for the other bottle and I want that deposit back.”  Finally she got it in her head, “We can’t do that.  We’ve never done that.”  “May I talk to your manager?”  She calls the manager who tells her I-don’t-know-what, but in the meantime, other people are standing there waiting to have their problems resolved too.  I wait patiently.  She doesn’t do anything for my issue, so I just wait and she sees I’m not going away.  Again, “We can’t do that.”  “What?  You’re refusing to return my deposit?  You know that’s not right.” And I just stand.  Finally she calls again and then asks “are you shopping tonight?”  “Yes, I’ve already done it.”  “OK, I’m going to give you a credit slip.”  “Thank you so much,” and I go to queue up again at the same check stand where my 3 loaves of bread (they bake it fresh in the store and it’s yummy), my 2 liters of milk and my laundry detergent are all bagged up, waiting for me to come pay.   These few items didn’t add up to the ksh1295, so the clerk said I’d have to go buy more things because they don’t give cash back.  Those of you who know me might wonder whether I was ready to give him the tongue lashing of his life, but I was actually quite calm, explaining that I didn’t need anything more, thank you.  Finally, as the queue behind me continued to grow, he gave me the balance in cash and I was off, happy to have resolved this in my favor but equally incredulous that it should have been questioned.  Can you believe charging $15 deposit on a plastic bottle?  AND then refusing to return the deposit?

I know what it is about me that won’t give this up.  I’m a true 1 on the enneagram and we are the people who know right from wrong.  We try never to cheat anyone and we’re damned if anyone is going to cheat us.  It’s not as if I would go hungry over the $15, but it’s the principle of the thing.  We 1’s are very principled and we are unrealistic enough to believe others are too.  Alas, we are often disappointed.

=Love to all

Margo

#20 2014 Meetings and Dinner and a Visit

#20 2014 Meetings and Dinner and a Visit

Saturday was the meeting of board of governors for SFG.  It’s quite an impressive board, all professional people, one in HR, and several business owners.  Fr. Kiriti is chairman of that board and I am always invited when I am here.

After the meeting I dropped in to one of the Form 4 classes and found a ready audience of maybe 10 girls who had questions.  We worked for over an hour, but I could see their energy was flagging, so we knocked off for the day.  Looking for more “clients” I found Joyce, one of  the form 1 girls from Mji Wa Neema.  I’ve known all the children here for 10 years, although it took me a few years to get all the names and faces connected.  Joyce is a very sweet girl, kind of quiet and a very hard worker.  However, math is a total mystery to her.  I think she has now sorted out how to add positive and negative numbers.  It’s a concept we have wrangled with many times, but (cross my fingers) I think she might have it.  She does well in the non-science/math classes, but numbers are not her friends, try as we both have.  Poor dear!

I had made plans for dinner with Anastasia and husband, Mwangi, and Fr. Kiriti.  He is old friends with them and he doesn’t get to see them very often.  We’d planned to eat at the Naivasha Golf and Sports club, but there was a big tournament that day and it was jammed.  We found a very nice hotel, one I had not seen before, and had a fun, relaxing dinner.  I had dinner with Anastasia and Mwangi just recently, along with their friend, Fr. Nick (just so you can place them among the many people I’ve written about).  We were all loathe to leave, but Fr. Kiriti had an early mass next day, so he left, while Anastasia and Mwangi and I lingered on.  I enjoy their company so much.

Next day I went to SFG again, working with more form 4’s.  Some of them really struggle with math and many don’t really like it, despite my efforts to lighten it up.  In the middle of a rather hairy problem my phone rang.  It was Jesse Wahome, on the board of Empower the World.  “Margo, did you forget at 3 we were going to visit Elizabeth, the deaf woman who used to sign the mass?”  It was 2:55.  ARGH!  How could I forget?  “Can we put it off for an hour?  I have some eager learners here, I hate to turn that off.”  We agreed we’d meet at 5, which was perfect.

Elizabeth is like so many Kenyan women who “get babies”, as if they were sold at the Naivas.  Only this time she “got” twin boys.  Her family has rejected her and the father isn’t paying up—evidently he is unemployed and sick.  I asked Jessie and wife, Irene, the question I ask so many times, “Don’t they know what causes it?”  I’m not a prude, but “getting” babies you can’t take care of doesn’t make sense to me.  Right now she is living on the good will of her friends and neighbors, but eventually she’ll need to figure out how to be independent.

She’s really a lovely person.  She initiated the signing of the mass and soon had a class of folks wanting to learn signing.  Of course she can’t do it herself b/c she does not hear, having lost that ability to meningitis when she was a child.  So sad.

Not wanting to go empty-handed, Jesse and I made a foray to the Naivas where we bought staples, including detergent and a big pkg of pampers.  Yes, most people here use disposable diapers.  Most of them live in houses without running water.  They have to purchase water or fetch it from a communal faucet.  Not easy, so disposable diapers are the way to go.  I don’t even want to think about how they are disposed of.  ARGH!!!

She lives in a tiny one-room “house”, where she was making tea on a “jiko”, which is a small charcoal burner, that must be used with good ventilation, because it gives off carbon monoxide.  Every once in awhile I read about a death attributed to cooking inside with charcoal.  Terrible, but again, how else could they cook?  I think most people know to leave the door open, but they are sill exposed and my memory from many years ago is that exposure to CO does brain damage.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is Irene with Martin, Margo with Matthew and Elizabeth.

We chatted, with Irene signing and interpreting for me.  Jesse had asked me to go because she has become depressed and needed to know others cared about her.  Such a hard life.  Hopefully she’ll be able to take in some sewing projects soon, as she has that skill, as well as hair dressing.  Women here have very elaborate coiffeurs, such that she spend long hours in the salon each week.  Hair braiding is a nice way to pick up some cash and it can be done at home.

She was thrilled to receive the things we brought.  I didn’t see much else to eat in the house, so it was a timely visit and I think it did cheer her up.

Today is Monday.  I spent it at SFG, finishing up my solutions to the 2013 KCSE math exam.  There are 2 papers (exams), each with 24 questions.  Some are easy, like 1 minute, but others are nasty.  There are several I haven’t sorted out yet and one on Kenyan taxes that I will never sort out.  Too complicated!  Tomorrow is a national holiday to celebrate the end of Ramadan, so there will be no exams.  I will drive Fr. Kiriti to Nakuru in the morning, then go to school to work again with individual students.

Tues-Thurs

Students in forms 1-3 are now doing end of term exams.  Form 4’s are doing mocks, the practice exam for the KCSE, which they take in October.  The mocks take 3 weeks (as do the KCSE exams).  So some days they may have only one exam, while others they might have 3.  I have set myself up in one of the science labs and girls come in when they want to and are free.  Generally I have 6-12, depending and we thrash through questions.  If the question is particularly hairy we find more like them and they try them for themselves.  I really love this kind of teaching, where I can take all the time necessary to get everyone comfortable with a concept or topic.  Yesterday 2 girls stopped me to thank me and to say they had given up on math but now they have hope and are working hard to at least pass the math portion of the KCSE.  It brought tears to my eyes.  They were so earnest in their appreciation.  If I ever question why I spend so much time and effort here, that question is put to rest when students tell me it has made a difference to them.

I’m also getting ready for the classes I do mornings at Mji Wa Neema for anyone who wants to come.  This year, for the first time, several girls have asked whether they could stay there so they can take advantage of that extra time.  I’ve talked to matron, Julia, who agreed, but said we had to get permission from Fr. Mwangi.  He has agreed, so it’s a go.  The traditional “tuitioning” which is private tutoring, much like what I do, except parents have to pay for it, has been outlawed.  However, since the term “tuition” implies a fee and I don’t charge anything, it is OK.  They can’t outlaw someone helping kids who want to learn!  Today yet another asked me, but I’m not sure how many can be accommodated.  It will be fun to have them here.  Three of our girls are among the form 4’s, so they all know each other well.  The ones who will come are all very nice girls, who will be helpful and well-behaved.  If not, I’ll send them home, but I think that will not be a problem.

=Love to all

Margo

#19 2014 Bush Medical Clinic

Sister Irene, David (driver) and I sat in the front of the ambulance, while Sr. Modesta rattled around the back. First we drove to Chemolingot, a town consisting of 2 intersecting roads, each with shops for about 2 blocks. At 10 am, it is a quiet, dusty down with a few dogs and fewer people about. Then it was another excruciating 9 km to the district dispensary, where the back was loaded with equipment—baby scale, microscope and a few beat up tables and chairs— and supplies, child immunization record books, various medications, etc.

Then off we went to the middle of Pokot land. It took more than an hour of very tough driving to arrive at a lovely shaded glen near a river that was dry as a bone 2 days ago but today was flowing with brown, muddy water.

My first need was to find a good bush to squat behind. Having taken care of that we wandered about looking at the landscape and waiting for the people to show up for clinic. Slowly, one by two they came, mostly pregnant women and nursing mothers. Interspersed with these arrivals were old women, whom I later learned, are the local midwives.

We sat around for awhile before Sr. Irene began talking to the group, explaining who would get portions of the sack of maize we were carrying. First priority was the frail elderly, both men and women. Sr. Irene had gathered a list of some 20 folks, most of whom showed up at sometime during the day. Next would be the pregnant mothers and those with nursing babies. Pregnant moms only got maize if they had a prenatal exam. Nursing moms got it only if the baby was weighed, examined and immunized.

The moms all sat in a row on a downed log, holding their sleeping babies, nursing them if they fussed. Sr. Irene showed me a device used like a bottle. It was a small gourd in which they collected their breast milk. She giggled when she explained the covering was a goat scrotum. People are very creative!

They’ve also devised baby backpacks made of goatskin to which arm straps have been attached. They’re quite adept at putting even very small babies on the skin, placing the arms and legs inside the straps and slinging it onto the back.

Everyone who came was stick-thin. Arms and legs seemed to be only small bones with no muscle. Yet they walk many miles everyday, the women to fetch water and wood for cooking, the men tending the animals. The old walk slowly, but the young women stride off briskly, baby on back. Everyone carries a stick to ward off snakes and the men (ONLY) carry a small stool, maybe 6 inches high, with a 6 inch square seat. I wish I had taken a picture of one.

Most of the women wore typical broad beaded necklaces, but one lady had a necklace that loosely wound around her neck. I could see a wire protruding from one end. She carried a knife and a stick from which she cut identical beads, then stuck them on the wire. She must have added several feet to her necklace as she sat during the day.

I wasn’t quite sure how to be helpful, but did some baby weighing for starters.

Then I noticed Sr. Modesta talking through an interpreter to the midwives seated off far enough away so their discussion couldn’t be overheard. When I joined them they were having a lively talk about FGM. It turned that many oppose it. They claimed the men insisted on wives being circumcised. Sr. M was very straightforward, telling about the problem of infection as well as major problems when giving birth. Many utero-intestinal fistulas occur as a result of FGM. The women know this but have been afraid to confront the men. They explained that the fathers are not around when the women are giving birth so have no idea how painful and serious it is. After much discussion they said they thought the older women had the right to tell the elders (men) more about it to enlist their help in discouraging the practice, which is outlawed in the Kenyan constitution, but the rural people ignore that. It was quite an animated discussion, with one woman, clearly a leader in the group, eyes flashing, pointing her long fingers, making her points, with the evident agreement of the others. They talked about herbs they use for various problems, getting the milk started, constipated babies, etc and I thought about my favorite book, The Red Tent, in which the main character was a midwife with an impressive knowledge of birthing and herbs. These ladies have knowledge that could be used in the greater world.

They also held some very odd beliefs, one being that a mother should be denied water for a week after giving birth. ACH! I explained to the translator that sufficient water is necessary to replace the blood lost in childbirth as well as for milk production. To my surprise, they listened. Sr. Modesta said later they appreciated my information. I do know that advice from the aged is prized and while I never told them my age, it’s pretty evident. Even the oldest was not as old as I am, but they’re bodies are worn out at 40, so they all looked very old indeed.

Afterwards, we talked about training the midwives so they’d be more aware of the signs of impending problem births. Because women begin giving birth as early as 12 in this society, many died along with their babies. If they’d had better care, many would survive. The women had asked that a hospital be built in their area. We suggested the people should build it, a simple place, and that the nuns who attend them could be trained, even to do cesarean sections. As it stands, the nearest hospital is to far, and the roads so bad, they can’t get there and the mothers die.

Love to all
= Margo

#18 2014 A Visit in East Pokot

#18 2014 A Visit in East Pokot

Monday’s drive from Nakuru to Maragat was long but uneventful, except for the traffic bumps, some of which I didn’t see and got quite a jolt—maybe b/c I was listening to a good book on the ipod. Once my ipod slid off the seat. I pulled over to pick it up and happened to be right in front of 2 ladies selling honey. They happily rushed over to make a sale, for which they would charge a mzungu lady way too much. Before I even registered what was happening, I had picked up the pod and sped on, leaving 2 very disappointed ladies. I could have bought some honey—I know Fr. Kiriti likes it in his tea, but before I processed all that, I was too far.

Fr. Kiriti found me in Maragat. I followed him to the Catholic Mission compound, where we lunched, moved my things into his truck and were off with only a quick stop at a small stand to buy fruits and vegetables. This is a very fertile area and evidently Maragat has received sufficient rain because the produce was plentiful. Later I would learn that around Kositei parish there had been little rain and the maize harvest had failed.

As we drove along, the landscape became drier and more desert-like. All along we’d see herds of goats, sheep, a few cattle, and on occasion domesticated camels. Cacti abound—the ones with the small fruits that I think Latinos use to make a traditional alcohol. Here they are just consumed for food. Other than that acacia bushes are about all that grows.

Finally we reached the compound. The air was humid and HOT, and I was very happy to arrive. It’s full of sounds of bird, including roosters who seem unclear on the concept—they announce the dawn all day long! Three geese trumpet the arrival of any stranger.

Once I thought they were attacking me, but they backed off when I stamped my feet and yelled at them. Ducks quack and chickens cluck occasionally and the shower outside my room drips constantly

This is the week of the mobile medical clinic being here. Srs. Irene and Modesta are the mainstays, accompanied by an intern, Bro. Hillary. Irene is diminutive, quiet-spoken and very sweet, so we were quite amazed when I snake (cobra) showed up behind the kitchen and Edward the cook called for back-up. They first tossed a pan of hot water on it, then went at it with a stick. Sr. Irene pushed everyone aside and proceeded to beat the $!$%#$ out of that snake! He was a goner. She picked up the body and draped it over a branch—maybe as notification to all other snakes, “This is your future if you dare come into this compound.” This was the first time in my 3 visits here that a snake has dared to enter.

Brother Hilliary, Fr. Kiriti, Sr. Irene, Sr. Modesta

Just after dinner it began to sprinkle and before we knew it we had a real African downpour, the sort I once described as raining giraffes and elephants. We ran for the house and were drenched, but it felt so good. It rained far into the night and I remember waking briefly to hear the river rushing by. Earlier in the day it had been almost non-existent, just a few puddles of muddy water. Now it is evening again and I don’t hear it, but it may rain again. Fr. Kiriti tells me that fording it was impossible today. If it rains much we might be marooned here. That would be a bummer, as we are returning to Naivasha on Friday to attend the board of governors meeting Saturday morning. This gives new meaning to “God willing and the creeks don’t rise.”

Today (Tuesday) I helped Fr. Kiriti finish his financial report. He has learned EXCEL, but it’s not his favorite activity. I think he is greatly relieved to have that small burden taken from his must-do list. Later in the afternoon he went to check on the condition of a guest house near the church. Sr. Irene had announced last night that there was a possibility of some visitors. They would be driven here, but she was requested to return them to Nakuru. When she asked for a donation to cover the petrol, they demurred. I was reminded of my first visit when I was totally clueless about the needs of the clergy here. It would cost her some $50 in petrol to take them back. However, after seeing her go after than snake, I am confident she’ll get her $50 and maybe a lot more.

I will be going out with the mobile medical clinic tomorrow, so will have a full report in #19.

#17 2014 Dinner with Friends, Talent Show and off to Nakuru

#17 2014 Dinner with Friends, Talent Show and off to Nakuru

After all the driving around, shopping for Talent Show Day (TSD), including picking the bottle caps, I had just enough time to shower and be off to La Belle, a local restaurant with pretty good food and not outrageous prices. I had invited Anastasia and her husband, Mwangi for dinner. You may recall several weeks ago I wrote about going to dinner at their house, taking David Kamau, very bright high school student from Mji Wa Neema. They are both engineers with Ken Gen and will be mentoring David. I wanted to meet with them to talk about that, although we talked about so many things.

We all arrived exactly at 6. I had prepared myself for their arrival on Kenyan time by bringing a book to read, but in fact they were standing outside the restaurant as I drove up. Talking with them was an old friend, who had happened to see them as he was on his way to their house for a surprise visit. He introduced himself as Fr. Nick. Since this was my dinner, I felt free to ask him to join us, an offer he didn’t hesitate to accept.

He’s a young priest from a neighboring diocese who has been their good, good friend for a long time. After I learned all that, I knew my instinct to include him had been right and he turned out to be very interesting and a lot of fun. In fact we sat there for 3 hours, talking and laughing until I felt I had to leave to get back. La Belle is only 5 minutes from home, but I don’t like driving here at night. I collected the bottle caps that La Belle had saved for us from our afternoon visit and was off. Of course the drive home was totally uneventful.

Next morning SFG was alive with activity. Everyone rushing here and there, intent on some very important errand. I had promised they could use my camera, as well as the video camera which Craig had purchased for use here. TSD was scheduled to begin at 9, but at about 9:45, when it hadn’t begun, I suddenly realized I had left the charger for my camera at home and the battery would never survive the 100’s of pix I knew they would take. Off to home, get charger and back to school, having just missed the opening.

There were wonderful traditional dances, songs, skits, modern dances, acrobatic performances and long waits between same. They day was wonderful but my sitting apparatus was definitely worn out before the end. In fact, my whole self was worn out and at about 3:30 I asked Esther if I could take a nap at her house. I was literally asleep by the time she had let herself out of the house to go back to TSD.

Fortunately a 1-hour nap revived me, so when time came for teachers to perform I was up to the challenge, although my offering was very different from others. I called up all the Mji Wa Neema girls to help me and as they came forward, wondering what in the world I had in mind, I explained that in my world, parents read to their children at bed time. In my case I also sang, not so much to my children as to my grands, and one of their favorite songs was about a small bear named Winnie-the-Pooh. I’d taught that song to the kids at the home many years ago and they always sing it with great gusto. It was fun and everyone accepted out offering with much clapping and noise.

The grand finale was the selection of Miss St. Francis, accompanied by much screaming for favorite candidates. I finally saw the purpose of the bottle caps, whichhad been attached to the train of a gown to make a rattling noise as she strutted her stuff. They all strutted like any pro in the Parisian couture. Many of our girls are stunningly beautiful, statuesque and sexy. My heart went out to the 1^st and 2^nd runners up. The others were back stage, so could show their disappointment, but the “also-rans” had to stand there, each wishing it were she getting the sash, the tiara, the bracelet Janet and I had chosen the day before and the screams.

 

Finally the bedlam settled so the judges could announce the winning class. Of course the form 1’s had no chance. They’d never experience TSD, so this was their learning opportunity. The big contest was between forms 3 and 4. It was very close, but form 4 won and the jumping up and down, dancing, high 5’s, screaming nearly brought down the house. There was no containing the excitement until it ran its course. I was given the honor of presenting the big prize, which was 3 small pastries they evidently cherish, because when I pulled off the cover bedlam again broke out. And then everyone was crowding around Miss SF and wanting pictures. Words can’t describe the excitement and energy. It was like the end of the World Series or the World Cup—especially after Ruth announced there would be no night preps, but that 1 hour after dinner was over, everyone was to be in bed. That one really brought down the house.

One of the many great things about TSD is that it comes right before exams for forms 1, 2 and 3 and the mock exams for form 4. It’s a perfect way to get out the tension, wear everyone out and then send them to sleep. By Sunday they would be back in the classroom, assiduously studying, but hopefully more relaxed.

It was dark and after 7 by the time I was able to gather my camera and beat a hasty retreat. ACH!!! What a day!

Sunday I had to get ready for my visit to East Pokot and Fr. Kiriti. After mass and breakfast, I finished up most of the packing and waited for Ludwin to arrive for a short visit. She’s one of the first students to be sponsored to university. She had wanted to major in engineering, but had missed the cut-off by 3 points, so instead majored in accounting and finance. I had not seen her for several years and had wondered how she was faring and only saw her this time because of a chance encounter with her mother. As happened to me, Ludwin had lost all her contacts and didn’t know how to call or email me or her sponsor.

She had been in the last Archbishop Ndingi class to include girls, which means she graduated in 2006. It was great to see her. She looks wonderful, loves her job, which is with a credit checking firm based in Nairobi, but her area of responsibility is Malawi and Rwanda. This is a new job, so she is spending many hours, but her eyes really sparkled when she was describing her work and how much she enjoys it.

Ludwin brought along John, also a Ndingi graduate, although I didn’t remember him. He is an entrepreneurial type. Right now he has a worm farm, which may not sound like much, unless you are an organic gardener. Then you will know how valuable those little critters are. John grows the worms to keep himself alive while he makes independent movies. He’s even done one starring Ludwin and is thinking about doing something with the story of SFG.

We had a lovely visit and I was so happy to reconnect with Ludwin. She tells me she has been supporting children in a children’s home, and now promises to “pay it forward” by donating to Empower the World, to enable more girls like herself to go on to school.

Finally I had to bring the visit to a close, to get ready to go. I had to run up to SFG to retrieve my camera charger (having a hard time keeping that), fill the car and check the air pressure, which was low in all the tires. Petrol has gone up again. I paid $5.14 per gallon!!! (Over $50 to fill the car)

Had imagined Sunday afternoon would be an easy drive to Nakuru, but the road was full with the usual slow trucks and all the rest. I was concerned that I’d left so late it would be dark before I arrived and in fact it was almost 6. My plan was to stay with my friend Agnes, but she was called away to Mombasa to her 90-year old mother. She assured me her daughter Fatma would take care of me. As it turned out, her husband, James was just returning from a trip to Uganda. He stopped at an easy to find hotel, where I picked him. It was very nice to have a guide to their house, which I would have been hard-put to find on my own.

James and I chatted while Fatma prepared a wonderful dinner. He is a professor of Kiswahili and Linguistics at Nairobi and has recently been made dean of students. The latter is very challenging, as students here are demanding and often go on strike. It is providing many learning opportunities for him. Agnes and James’ oldest son, Karama, was also there. He is in University, studying communication and media. Fatmas is waiting to enter university. She has not been told which school she will attend, but hopes to study international relations. She is named after Our Lady of Fatima in Portugal, but her parents thought Fatima sounded too middle eastern, so they spell it Fatma, but pronounce it Fatima.

Now it is Monday morning. I am writing from my bed, but will now dress, eat and be off to East Pokot to visit Fr. Kiriti for 5 days. I’ll drive to Maragat, which isn’t a very demanding drive, as I recall. I’ll leave the car with the nuns in a convent there and will ride to Kositei with Fr. Kiriti. That is a drive and a half. Roads go every which way across the bush. Once I asked him how he knew the road when it either wasn’t there at all or there were many choices. “The road is in my head,” was his reply. Well, it’s not in my head, so I’m grateful he would drive to Maragat to pick me. He has a very old truck. My car would give up after the first 5 miles!

#16 Giving the Seeds, The Readers, Math with Form 4, Shopping, Collecting Bottle Caps

#16 Giving the Seeds, The Readers, Math with Form 4, Shopping, Collecting Bottle Caps

I’m afraid I have fallen woefully behind in reporting. Too many things to write about-not enough time.

This week we had the presentation of the organic, non-gmo seeds to Mr. Bonface Simiyu and the form 3 agriculture class. We had sponsored Bonface to attend the Gro Bio-Intensive workshop in Thika. You may recall Ben and I took him after dropping Judy at the airport. He returned full of enthusiasm for this kind of farming which uses less water than ordinary farming. He had learned new information about seed saving and thus was very happy to receive non-gmo seeds. He reports the girls are excited about starting the seeds in boxes to be transplanted later. I was surprised at how many girls take agriculture class. I suspect few of them will go back to live on a farm, but many of them have farming parents and grandparents.

Along this line, Ruth Kahiga reports she has submitted a proposal to Safaricom for our biogas conversion project. It will use all human and animal waste, convert it to methane for cooking and after processing, produce organic fertilizer safe for using on food crops. It’s the ultimate in recycling and addresses a number of issues, not the least of which is the pit latrine, which tends to fill up fast and is very smelly. Sorry if I’m grossing you out. I hope this project will be completed before I come in 2015.

Often in the afternoon when I return from school there are 1-3 small boys at my door wanting to borrow books. It’s interesting that rarely are girls here to borrow. When Judy was here she spent time talking to them and even feeding them on occasion. Evidently I have inherited that cause. Sometimes Jackson, whom we know from several years ago (he is a friend of Joseph aka the peanut butter thief) has asked, “Is there anything we can eat?” Even though I’m tired and really want to rest, I can’t refuse hungry boys, so I make them peanut butter toast. They really love it—me too! The last time they came they were so sweet, emptying the garbage, washing their dishes, sweeping the floor, even mopping it. All 3 of them are just darling.

Jackson, Julius and Danson

I remembered the white board which now has to sit atop my refrigerator, the magnets having failed. In the past kids have loved it, so I got it out and sure enough, the loved it, although none of them is very artistic. Sometimes I have to shoo them away, or just retire to my room and let them rummage through the books. I’m sure by now Jackson has read most of them. Danson is a more recent recruit and Julius has come only twice.

Three nights this week I have stayed at Esther’s house at school so I could teach the form 4’s in the evening, alternating 4A and 4B. The third night I went to 4B but invited any 4A’s who wanted to come to join us. I thought maybe few would come because they were beginning their mock exams next day with an English exam and a lab practical. To my surprise most of the A’s came in, but they requested that we work for just 1 hour instead of 2. That seemed fair to me and we tackled some hairy questions. At exactly 1 hour, I packed up to leave, but they gave me such a rousing cheer I stopped briefly to thank them and give them some encouragement. As I turned to go, I remembered I needed a blog pic and predictably they clowned it up.

As I walked out, 2 girls stopped me, each wanting to thank me. One is a girl who really struggles with math, and when she said I had inspired her, it brought tears to my eyes. Both of them live far away but would like to attend the 2-week tutoring class I always do after schools close in August. The only way would be if they could stay in town, so I am looking into whether they can stay at Mji Wa Neema, which is where I do the class. They are all very well-behaved girls, and are friends with the 3 girls from here who are in form 4, Magdalene, Cynthia and Selena. The final hurdle is permission from Fr. Mwangi. Julia will speak to him ASAP and I think he will be OK with it. Julia and Agnes don’t mind and I’m sure these girls will be very helpful around the compound.

Even though these are only practice exams (hence “mock”) the pressure is enormous. In the past I’ve seen articles in the paper about student suicides or strikes because they didn’t want to take the mocks. I’ve not been here in October for the real KCSE, but it’s hard to imagine more stress than this. It’s a real rite of passage for these kids, worse I think than the AP’s and college boards.

My usual work focuses on form 1 and 2 math, but almost ½ the form 4 KCSE exam is from that curriculum. Often student have forgotten it, so it will be good for them to review. In the afternoon they can work together on other classes, or if they wish, we can work on forms 3 and 4 math for awhile.

Past readers may recall the District Education Officer (DEO) has forbidden any “tuitioning” during break times. Tuitioning had become a problem, with schools requiring student to spend up to ½ their holiday at school, and causing parents to pay extra for this. Sometimes teachers would augment their incomes by having tuitioning in their homes. It was a bit of a racket. However, since I don’t charge anything, and it’s totally voluntary, I don’t call it tutoring rather than tuitioning. I used to do it at Ndingi, but now must do it here at the home, which is not a school and thus not under the authority of the DEO. We do math for 2 + hours in the morning and sometimes kids want to come back in the afternoon. It’s one of the things I really look forward to since kids attend b/c they want to. I get all varieties, some local, some from SFG or Ndingi and some come after their friends tell them about it. Each year I worry I’ll be swamped, only to have maybe 10 show up the first day. Generally by the end there are over 20. I’d set my limit at 30, but that hasn’t happened yet.

It’s time for one of the biggest events of the year—Talent Show Day. It used to be called Cultural Day, but talent show is a better descriptor. I was asked to be part of the planning committee and of course I volunteered to help with any shopping, since I have the car. After much discussion we agreed the major part of the budget should be spent on special food (read meat) and fruit, which I offered to fund. They don’t get much of either and I wanted them to have a generous servings of fruit. I asked whether I could take Esther to bargain for me, b/c she knows prices better than I and could be sure the sellers weren’t giving me mzungu prices. However, Janet, who teaches CRE and Kiswahili wanted to go. “Are you a good bargainer?” The rest of the committee hooted at that. “She’s a Kisii. They are the best bargainers in the country!” And than definitely proved to be the case. I had to call her off from trying to get a reduced price for oranges at ksh5 (about $.06) each. We bought oranges, bananas, mangos, pineapple and watermelon, and with each vendor she asked for (and got) a bonus for herself. I didn’t mind a bit and was really amused by the good natured exchange between Janet and the sellers. She’s really good!

Afterwards we stopped by Joyce’s house to pick up more cloth bags. Janet had admired mine and in true Kisii spirit, asked for one. Why not, I thought. But first I extracted a promise that she would never, ever take plastic bags again! She loved the bags and had a hard time choosing from among the great fabrics we picked from Nairobi a few weeks ago.

Then we were off to Life Beads of Kenya, a small workshop I’ve written about before. It’s run by my friend, Minalyn, who wasn’t there when we arrived (car broke down) to select something special to be presented to Miss St. Francis—the high point of Talent Show Day. We were met by Jacklin, an American volunteer from New York, whom I had met several times before, once at Rotary. She let us in the “show room”, where Janet nearly lost it. There are so many beautiful things there I was afraid I’d never get her out. Finally we settled on a nice bracelet and were on our way back to SFG. Unfortunately by the time we arrived and got all the fruit unloaded from my car, I had missed the class I had wanted to teach. And then, when I reported to Ruth, showing her the bracelet, which she loved, she asked, “Did you remember the chicken?” Oops! Chicken was what the staff wanted and we were supposed to pick that too. Oh well, back to town, this time with Ruth in tow, carrying a list of things the students wanted for Talent Show, like ribbon, balloons and a very curious item, 200 bottle tops. We weren’t sure what they were for, but figured we could stop in any bar, of which there are many. We thought this would be easy, the bars toss them and some weren’t interested in helping us. However I walked into one dark and musty place, where quite a crowd was gathered. I quietly squeezed through to a barman, who led me to the back where the trash is. Together we picked through broken bottles and assorted other stuff, finding quite a few. I thanked him and gave him a small tip, then took my cloth bags rattling with bottle caps back out through the crowd, giggling to myself about what they must have thought.

We picked up the chickens, which were frozen solid, so it’s a good thing I didn’t beg off until the next day and meandered back towards school, looking for a shop that would have balloons. While Ruth bargained and counted out 40 of them, I wandered across the road to another bar, where there was an abundance of bottle caps lying around on the ground. This was a more raucous establishment, which men and women sitting about (at 3 in the afternoon) laughing and drinking, and ???? As I wandered through, collecting my treasures, one man wanted to know “what is your problem?” Laughing, I explained, but I’m sure they had a good chuckle over the crazy old mzungu who was picking bottle caps off the floor—occasionally kicking one out of the dirt.

Ruth laughed when I told her I would be including this in my blog. “You can’t make this stuff up, you know!” Such was my week. Next one is about that evening and dinner at La Belle.

 

#15 Life Bloom Celebrates Nelson Mandela Day and Fetching Lillian

#15-2014 Life Bloom Celebrates Nelson Mandela Day and Fetching Lillian

July 14, 2014

The ladies of Life Bloom have some wonderful ideas for honoring Nelson Mandela on his day, this Friday, July 18. They are visiting schools and other institutions to encourage 67 minutes of time to be spent on some activity that would emulate his life, making the world more positive, accepting, loving… They chose 67 minutes b/c Mandela worked to better mankind for 67 years. I love the fact that this is coming from the ladies of Life Bloom, women whose lives have been hard, but through the work of LB they are busily making lemonade!

Two of the team members came this morning to meet with Ruth to discuss what might be done here. She will meet with staff and students to find an appropriate activity.

I have not been at SFG for a week. I thought students were taking exams, so I used the time for other needs (including being lazy) but today I taught a form 4 class, talked to Ruth, tried to contact a videographer to help me learn how to use the new video camera I was sent here to use, chatted with a 2013 graduate about what’s next for her, answered some emails, ate lunch and was off to pick Agnes so we could drive to Kinagop (not the right spelling, I’m sure) where her friend Lillian was being discharged from the hospital. You will remember we went to her house a few days ago to take food to her 2 small boys and Nite (her cousin, who is caring for them)

The road to St. Luke’s hospital is another one of those terrible roads, bumpy and LONG. It’s a struggle to held the wheel in place, so I’m always tense on these drives. We arrived and found Lillian dressed and eager to leave, but these things take time. Fortunately she has national health insurance (something like Obamacare) which paid for most of the hospitalization. Friends chipped in to pay the balance, but even so, Agnes had to wait to get it all settled. In the meantime I was hoping to locate Lucy, a student of many years ago—I met here in 2005. She was sponsored by KH to study nursing at the nearby nursing school and is now employed at the hospital. I thought she was in maternity, but eventually located her (with the help of some student nurses) and got to see her. She’s now in pediatrics and loving it. I had had a hard time to locate her, finally enlisting the help of some totally clueless but very sweet student nurses. Finally a real nurse came to my rescue, recognized Lucy’s name and found her for me. Oh my, did she give me a big hug—nearly swept me off my feet. We didn’t have very long to talk, but it was wonderful to see her and to see she is still happily caring for children.

Lillian lives a very long way in the opposite direction from the hospital, so we had to go through Naivasha and drive again through the area which I thought was called Karachi, but now know it is called Karachita (I think that spelling is right). We drove back through the village which I described in #14, again dodging all the livestock, little kids, motorbikes and rivulets of mud and I-don’t-even-want-to-think-what-else, which wind down the center of the narrow roads. I can’t imagine how Lillian would have gotten home with a cast up to her knee and in major pain. To take a taxi would have wiped her out financially, and a piki piki or matatu were out of the question, so I am again grateful to have a car. Naturally she was very grateful and excited to be home with her children and Nite. When we came in the boys took one look at the cast and were sort of spooked. I’m sure they had never seen one before. Possibly they weren’t sure she was even the mom who went off to the hospital 2 weeks ago. However, they soon figured it out and it was a happy reunion.

I have been teaching evenings at SFG, so staying with Esther, the matron, as I always do. She is such a good friend and makes me very comfortable. I’m grateful to have such good friends here.

Now it is Thursday. Last night I slept at home so I could be in town to attend the Rotary meeting. I have been quite faithful, not yet missing a meeting, but will miss next week b/c I’ll be in Kositei, visiting Fr. Kiriti. The speaker was Marcus Rive, the young man who started the preschool in KCC. He’s shy and humble but spoke very well, telling about coming here in 2009, seeing a great need for a preschool in the slum area, full of little kids who were hungry, mal-nourished and in need of school. They began with a feeding program. Within the first year a farmer who no longer used his land allowed them to build and to plant beans, maize and greens to supplement the feeding program. Judy and I have watched the school grow—you may remember I wrote about it a few weeks ago.

I had told Marcus there were no guarantees, but Rotary might be willing to help a bit. I was hopeful, but never imagined they would respond so positively and generously. They are truly a wonderful group of people, virtually all native Africans, with big hearts and generous spirits. They give what they can and have fun doing it. I’m enjoying being part of the group this summer. Marcus was thrilled with their response and I foresee a nice partnership.

This morning Agnes and I again went to Lillian’s, this time to take her to the company clinic to have her injury verified and to verify that it occurred as she was walking from work, but still on company property. It was quite a process, beginning with seeing a doctor who changed the dressing on the surgical site. The hospital had cut a window in her cast for this purpose and I must say the wound is pretty ugly, but seemed to be healing properly. Next she had to see a nurse to talk about getting certified so she could be paid. Her company, Findlay’s is a fair trade flower farm, so she gets much better benefits than she would, were it not. Then we had to drive to the area where she works to speak to her manager and then her supervisor. The hitch is that the morning after her injury she reported to the manager who failed to submit a report. She also was seen in a satellite clinic, but by then the ankle was so swollen then didn’t do anything (sounds weird to me) and since they didn’t do anything, the visit was not recorded. Now they are hassling her b/c she didn’t report her injury! Go figure!

Findlay’s land holding is enormous—vast, but they are doing a pretty good job. They process the excess water and return it for irrigation, rather than send it to the lake. They make compost and while they are not organic, they do try to limit the use of fertilizers and pesticides. Lillian says they raise dudus, which I think are lady bugs to control aphids. They also use pesticides.

In the large composting area we saw baboons feasting. They can be serious pests, but of course I see them as “cute”. Most Africans do not see them as cute! We also saw a herd of giraffes nearby. I had not been aware of giraffes in the greater Naivasha area, but guess I was wrong!

 

 

#14-2014 Now Something Is Going On

#14-2014 Now Something Is Going On

July 12, 2014

I was without email and internet for a day and ½ with DT’s beginning to set in. I thought it was b/c of transferring my email to a new server, but in fact, it was my own fault. My modem had run out of credit and I didn’t understand how to read the balance report. I stopped by the Orange shop this afternoon (Orange is my modem provider) and “topped up” my credit—prepaid usage. It’s quite cheap here. I bought an original ksh 1000 ($11.75) 5 weeks ago. Have just topped up another 1000. The money here sounds like so much, but the conversion rate is about ksh 85 to $1. I often use 80 for an estimate b/c I can usually divide, or multiply, in my head, depending on which way I’m converting.   With the top-up I’m back in business and responding to all the emails that came in.

Things have been quiet here, as I said in #13, but yesterday Agnes told me about Lillian, her dearest friend from childhood, whom I met at the dowry payment celebration. We hit it off and chatted at length that day. I had promised to call her to arrange a visit to the flower farm where she works, but it turns out that she injured her leg quite badly and has been hospitalized for 2 weeks. That’s bad enough, but she has 2 small boys, ages 3 and 6, and since she is an orphan with no siblings and no husband, she had to call on a cousin to go to her house to care for them. She thought she would just be treated and released, so had left little money—only ksh 300 ($3.50). She didn’t not call Agnes until yesterday, when the cousin called her to say there was no food in the house. In actuality, there was NO FOOD. They ate the last of the rice for lunch. Her cousin, whose name if Nite (I think) had called Lillian in desperation and in desperation Lillian had called Agnes. It’s times like this that I am so glad I have a car. It does make addressing situations like this so much easier.

I grabbed an extra jar of peanut butter from my cupboard and my ever-handy cloth shopping bags as well as 4 kids books from my dwindling supply. Stopping at the supermarket, we loaded up on basics, cooking oil, flour, rice, eggs, green-grams (dried peas, a staple source of protein here) milk, TP (always a need!), sugar (Kenyans must have that), etc. We agreed we would buy produce at a local shop, where prices are generally cheaper and which are run by women trying to support themselves. We had also bought some immediate food, something I thought would be a treat, called kabob. They are tubes of egg, flour and oil, filled with meat and veges then fried. Kenyan fast food. It turned out they are spicy, but the kids ate them anyway, even though I think they tingled their tongues more than they are used to.

The drive was down the road toward Nakuru, then turn off towards the lake and then turn off again onto one of those roads so full of ruts from recent rain that we had to detour several times to find a passable route. Several times a “canyon” or maybe a “canyonette” several feet wide and more than 1 foot deep would appear. It made for creative driving, so say the least and I am grateful that Fr. Kiriti invested in a RAV 4, which sits high and takes a terrible beating on these roads. In addition to the usual sheep, goats and cows, this is one of the few times I’ve seen pigs rooting about in the garbage strewn everywhere. We spotted 2 sacked out on a big pile off to the side. Eventually we arrived at Lillian’s very humble “house”, which is really a room, maybe 12’ X12’ in an area known as Kabati. It’s a very poor area. I hesitate to use the word slum, b/c it is pejorative, but I am casting about for a euphamism. Like many “houses” this is one of 10 or 12 such rooms, built facing each other across a narrow courtyard where residents wash, hang clothes, cook on a charcoal-burning jiko, and where children play.

In this particular courtyard there must have been 20 little kids, mostly boys, between 2 and 6, all running around, kicking an empty plastic jar in lieu of a soccer ball and generally behaving like little boys the world over. Nite met us at the door and was clearly relieved to see us bringing food. She is 20 years old and very sweet. She didn’t finish class 8 b/c she got sick. Her parents have died and she lives with a lady for whom she works (house help, it’s called), but the lady is willing for her to return to school in January to repeat class 8 and take the KCPE. With luck and if the lady is still willing, she can then go to a day high school in her home area, up north from here. If the lady isn’t willing, I hope Agnes will help her apply to Empower the World for support. ETW is the NGO that administers the KH money.

The house was spotless and although the boys were a bit dirty (they’re boys, right?), it seemed to be recent dirt. She washed their hands before they ate the kabobs and it was clear they are used to that procedure—pouring water from a pitcher over the hands into a waiting bowl. They ate, then ran outside again, came back in with their friends, who gaped at the mzungu. When I got out the 4 little books it all came to a screeching halt. They LOVED the books—just little soft cover, preschool books about animals and maybe a little story. The 3-year old sat reading his book (upside down) with great interest and when another boy tried to grab it away, responded with great umbrage, “it’s mine, don’t touch!”—in Swahili, of course, translated by Agnes. I had forgotten my camera (so what else is new?) but Agnes took some cute pix on her phone. I asked her to send them to me, but she said she had to buy “bundles” in order to send pix. Don’t ask—I have no idea what that is. We could see the boys were being well-cared for in their mother’s absence and I’m sure Agnes has now reassured Lillian on that count.

As we left, we made our way through the wet wash hanging on the lines and were accompanied by a retinue of kids, all saying, “Bye mzungu, how are you mzungu?” So heart breaking, but they looked happy, well-fed and cared for. Yet I know that unless drastic changes come about soon, they will grow up, lucky to finish class 8, have no skills, no job opportunities and a bleak future. It makes me very aware of the enormous limitations of what Kenya Help can do in the face of the need. This is just one area of poverty among many in Naivasha and Naivasha is just a small pocket in the whole of Kenya—which is a small corner of Africa. I just have to remember that it’s better to educate a few kids than none, but how will those few be chosen? Mostly by luck of coming to the attention of Ann (the very pregnant Ann), the new Empower The World social worker. The need is so great and the Kenyan government seems not at all up to the task. The sad part is that Kenya is one of the most forward nations in Africa.

Back we went through the rutted, narrow “streets”, now crowded with older children coming home from school as well as myriad adults, each intent on his or her errands, and others standing around with nothing to do. I was painfully aware of how unusual a car was in this area, much less one driven by the likes of me, as I heard kids all over, “mzungu, mzungu, how are you, mzungu?” Agnes reported one was very excited b/c I waived. ARGH!!! I makes me so uncomfortable. It should not be like this!

Getting a haircut is always problematic and my hair was beyond hope—had to have it cut. I had hoped Ben would be driving to Nakuru this past week and I could hop a ride with him, but that didn’t happen. I called Shamin, the woman who has cut it for all the time I’ve been coming here, to see when she might have an opening. No answer. OH NO! Has she retired? I called Lydia Venter, who also is cared for by Shamin. Lydia assured me Shamin was only away briefly and this morning she called me. She could take me at 11 am today. Could I make it? It was 9:30 and I was reading the paper in bed. Suddenly springing into action, I washed, dressed, ate and was in the car by 10, knowing that the drive to Nakuru takes a minimum of 1 hour. I hate that drive, with all the trucks on mostly 2 lanes. I am like steel by the time I get there—so tense. As usual I missed the turnoff. The traffic makes in near impossible to look to the side and still watch for people running across the road, truck, cars and piki-pikis turning off or turning on and all the rest. Had to drive maybe 2 km to the round-about then back the other direction. I called Shamin who reminded me it’s just past the Hindu temple and when I got there, she was standing at the roadside, waving at me, having walked down to be sure I didn’t miss it again.

Generally I see her only once each summer, but she always welcomes me with a big smile and hug. Here is a picture of her with Jecinta, taken last year.

I swear she has not aged a day in the past 10 years. She is part Arab and part African. In addition to her beautician skills, she is an instructor in an exercise class. She is slim with well-defined muscles—great body. I didn’t ask how old she is, but her son must be close to 30 now, so she must be in her 50’s or close. Amazing. She finished in record time and her next client had not appeared when I left, even though I arrived at 11:30.

Feeling about 10 pound lighter, I left Shamin’s shop and headed for Lydia’s. Can’t possibly go to Nakuru w/o visiting her. To get to her, I have to turn onto another narrow dirt road, lined with little shops, most selling produce. I always stop to load up on whatever looks good, as Lydia feeds me very well and I know times are tough. Turning down another narrow lane I see some kids ahead, one sitting in the tire track. I’m going about 2 km/hr, and eventually they notice me. As I come even with them, I recognize one of the boys. “Are you Lydia’s boys?” “Yes.” “Hop in.” which they do. It’s not far to the house, but they’ve come from school (Saturday!) and are tired, grateful for the short lift.

I can see Lydia is frazzled. She has a big order of taka taka to be picked up tonight and of course, she feels the pressure to make the 40-50 pairs of earrings I hope to get from her. You may recall she and her husband, Wilco (both Afrikaners from So. A) have 7 adopted African children and he has had to return to So. A. b/c he’s not allowed to work here. Trying to support themselves on taka taka has proved impossible. She is here with the kids and clearly missing him. She’ll go Aug 3, for a month, and he will come back at the end of the year, but it’s very hard. This is the first time she had owned up to the stress. She had been out working on the art stuff for tonight’s order, so I sat in the living room reading a book I had fortuitously stuck in my purse. Lunch was served and was great, as is always the case at her house, and I took my leave. She protested briefly, but I could see she didn’t have time for visitors. I wish she had told me when I called her, but that’s not her way.

Now I’m home, and happy to have my email back. I had had one moment of panic this morning when I dropped my phone and it went off. I pushed every likely button, but the screen stayed stubbornly black and I realized I was without any communication. RATS!!! In desperation I held down the ON button and YES! The finally screen came alive. Had to enter my pin and couldn’t find the little card it’s written on, but the brain kicked in. It was as I remembered and I was in business again—at least the phone was working.

#13 2014 Nothing Much Going On

#13 2014  Nothing Much Going On

Thursday, July 10, 2014

The first month here has been a whirlwind of activity, as you’ve read and now, suddenly it’s very quiet.  Judy left on Sunday, the girls have gone back to SFG after their midterm break and are now busy with CATs (Continuous Assessment Testing), so there is not much for me to do there.  Julia has a cold, so I’m leaving her to rest, Agnes is having an off (I think, b/c I haven’t seen her tonight.)  I went to a meeting of the executive board of Ndingi this morning, chaired by Catherine, who is chairperson of the board.  I continue to be impressed with her professionalism, her insightful comments, her strength in making the tough calls and her compassion for all.  What a woman!  She should be president of more than just a school board and I daresay she will be someday.

The rest of the time I’ve just been picking up odd jobs.  Yesterday I cleaned my little house, which was actually very dirty, but I usually walk around without my glasses, so I don’t notice.  Thus I was abashed to see how dirty the mop water was when I gave it to a poor struggling plant outside my door.

For the whole 7 years I have been living here in Mji Wa Neema I have decried the curtains which are way too long and yesterday, having nothing more important, I decided to remedy this.  I began with the curtain in my little bathroom and followed my father’s age-old advice, “measure twice, cut once.”  He forgot to remind me I had to add extra for the hem!  I thought it would be about 5” below the bottom of the window, but it just reaches the sill.  Alas!  Too smart for my own britches!  I next did 1 of the 2 on my bedroom window, which looks just like I want it, but now I realize I have to make sure the second one is exactly the same length.  By the time I hand stitched the hem in the first one it was time to sleep and I didn’t do that second one today.  Maybe tomorrow.  Manana!  I work so much better under pressure.  Without something pushing me I read, fall asleep, listen to my ipod, read email and generally waste time.  ARGH!

Last night I attended the Rotary Naivasha meeting, held at the Naivasha Golf and Sports Club.  I like this Rotary.  The meetings are sometimes small (evidently the broadcast of the World Cup kept many members at home), but the new president, Juanita Ndila, is very good, serious but fun too.  This small group is planning their projects for the year, thinking about needy schools (there are many), water projects and the like.  They raise some small money at each meeting, with a weekly dues of ksh 100 ($1.25), fines for being late (ksh 100) fines for fiddling with one’s phone during the meeting or talking too much or receiving a call (should have turned off the phone) or any cock-a-mamie reason the sergeant-at-arms levels.  These are generally in the ksh 100-200 range and everyone good naturedly pays up.  They also have “happy/sads” in which people share something that has made them either one.  Almost everyone does a h/s, even if it’s just to say they are happy to be there.  At the end the total for the night is announced.  Last night was about ksh 3000 ($35), but generally 3 to 5 times that much.  They are good people who like to have fun but also have a big heart, especially for school, clinics and water.  I am grateful to them for being so welcoming to me.  It has been a wonderful opportunity to meet people I would have no other way to meet.

In the late afternoon I was about to go out on an errand when it began to rain.  Ah, it was so nice, settling the dust, clearing the air, washing my car (although this morning I had paid the gateman at Ndingi to wash it for me while I was at the meeting).  Even though my car was clean when I left Ndingi it was dusty by the time I drove out to the road, maybe 150 yards, and on the road into the parish and around to where I live.  This morning when I went out to go to Ndingi it was so dusty I couldn’t see out the rear window.

Not going on my errands, I took a nap instead, always a luxury and particularly wonderful to be lulled to sleep by the rain.  Later when I woke, my eye fell on one of the DVD’s I had brought along so I slipped it into my computer and watched God Got Tired of Us about the lost boys of the Sudan.  It must have been based on the book, What Is the What which I have read and recommended often.  This is a true story of the trek these boys made, over 1000 miles from southern Sudan to Ethiopia and then to Kakuma Refugee Camp in northwestern Kenya.  It followed 4 boys who were among the some 10,000 who were taken to the US to live and go to school, eventually to possibly return to Sudan to help rebuild the country.  Some have actually returned, even though the fighting with the north has not completely stopped.  I cried at the scene of the arrival in New York of the  Dinka mother, having not seen her son for almost 15 years.  She collapsed in the arrival section but later danced and ululated through the airport.  Her son, some 7’ tall had been in the US too long—he seemed embarrassed by his mom.  She was just celebrating in the only way she knew how.

It’s a great documentary, the last ½ of which shows their struggle living in Syracuse, NY, having never seen electricity, a shower, a refrigerator, toilet……  They had to learn everything that we never even think about.  Watch it if you can.  I would think Netflix has it.

I’ll write again when I have something more interesting to tell.