The blogosphere did indeed go blank from Mama OVAAT for a few weeks. It in no way should reflect the success of the trip. Frankly I’m over the moon over how we are doing. That Sunday, Monica and I went to church and then sat under the trees by Lake Victoria and talked about the way forward. It was a delicious day of friendship and love between 2 kindred spirits who “dream dreams” as Bobby Kennedy would say.

Monday dawned bright and beautiful for our ride back across the Rift. Francis and I drove to KMET for one last visit and thus ensued the “Series of Unfortunate Events”.
Yes fans, I managed to break my leg on the last day, and of course there was no adequate medical care. My fabulous Medical Rescue Card got me nothing and there were no working x-ray machines at Nairobi Hospital. Which was probably ok since I doubt they had a tech anyway.

Determined to get on that plane, we got to the airport, I got a wheel chair and thus began the long, long ride home. 2.5 days travel with an unset broken leg is a bit of a challenge, but I did get home, get it set, and still wound up in the hospital with the creepy crawlies. Then a fall down my stairs a week later got me 16 stitches in my head. That’s what I mean by a series of unfortunate events.

Ok, but here’s the deal. What we are doing in Kenya defies the odds. We are going to run this program for under $30,000. I so want people to know that with the right partners and working with communities to own their programs you can change attitudes and lives. (Y’all know how I feel about the big guys. ) And I can’t wait to get back there.

And the second deal is not to be afraid. Do what your heartsong is. I am 65 years old and I love my work over there. Despite “the series of unfortunate events” I wouldn’t give up one single second of life over there and here. And I wish that more people stepped out of the fear of not being a success, or of getting hurt, or of the unknown, or what people might think and go for it. As my grandmother used to say, “Life is short, eat dessert first”. So go for it with everything you’ve got and believe you can. You’re neither too young or too old, it’s your time. Now get up and do it.

What you say? What happened to the past 10 days? Ok I didn’t come back to the US in one piece, actually it was 3 pieces but that is a different story entirely. I wanted to wrap up the trip for you all.

That Saturday after we had finished visiting all the schools we returned to KMET for a team meeting.. Everyone showed up at 11A on a Saturday to develop the plan for 2012. We covered so many topics. We reviewed the difference between ACK, Nangina and Nina.

We realized that. 1. We had to develop criteria to see trends of when a school is failing before it gets to the level of ACK.
2. We noted that when I was the man behind the curtain the community immediately looked to each other instead of the muzungu
3. We realized that starting fresh meant there were no rumors of untold wealth and goodies and that we would struggle with that in Nambale
4. We all agreed that Nina is our new shining star and it holds so many hopes. For me it will hold my heart and I will be so glad to get back there

Then we set up a budget. First what needed to be done and a realistic number for what it would cost.

We needed to cost share the feeding programs in the 3 schools. We knew that it costs $1.80 per term for each child. Now OVAAT will get a list of the children and will base the donation on a realistic number. Further, after the first term, if ACK is not at 50% their feeding program will be dropped. And further to instill in the other schools that this is their program, the second term we will drop down from 50%-40% subsidy.

Our girls need sanitary towels to stay in school. For $400 per term ( 3 terms to the year) we can keep hundreds of girls in school by supplying them. Pretty cool huh?

We need to keep the community involved. We need the PICD team to visit each school each month to help the community develop a plan of action and a budget so that in 2 years they can take over the feeding program. The team not only teaches community development, but we have a nutritionist and a nurse as part of that team. The cost per term $1200.

Just before I sat down to write this wrap up I saw an add for “Save the Children” which shows you a tragic child in horrific conditions. Trust me these kids and these villages exist. But they’re not getting the community involved. They’re not teaching the community how to feed their children, how to work together and own the problem and thus, it seems to me they will be there forever. My goal for One Village at a Time has always been to go out of business. If we do our job right the community takes over, they are empowered, and everyone wins.

So for less than $5000 per term or $1500 per year we can change the attitudes of the people, make them self-sufficient and they can feed their kids. I call this a spectacular trip.

Keep the faith y’all

All God’s Promises are Yes

I remember when my pastor preached that sermon. It was such an astounding thought, that though it has been several years, I frequently quote that. And Friday was the dawn of a promise.

It is always hard to give everything up and know that if it’s supposed to be it will be, and if not, it really is no use fighting. You will lose anyway. Thursday night we prepared for the new school in Siaya. I had suggested a different approach where I would sit in the back and play the role of observer not the great white hope. We all thought that was a good idea, since when folks see the white girl they see dollars from heaven. We changed a few things around including this amazing skit that Beatrice and Rosemary get the people to do.

It’s a simple skit, they ask for 4 volunteers, 3 men and 1 woman. And the skit goes like this, there is a farmer plowing by a river. 3 people come upon the farmer and see that the river is flooded and they ask the farmer to help them. The farmer tells them that he is busy, but the 2 men prevail and the farmer carries him across the river. The woman says she wants to see how the farmer crosses the river so she can do it herself later. The End.

Then they get the audience participation and ask people who they want to be the men or the women. Well everyone wants to be the woman who learns. And then they get down to business and ask what is the river a symbol for? Challenges they face…Who is the farmer? The donor who gets tired and may not be there to help the men back across the river. It’s extremely effective and really gets people thinking and talking and seeing how important it is that they become the woman who learns how to cross the river.

Ready and prepared, we left the lovely Blue York for Siaya. Siaya has not changed one iota in 10 years. The “roads” are rutted and muddy and the car sways back and forth and we pray we don’t end up in the river. The poverty is so crushing that I begin to cough feeling it in my chest.

We arrive at Nina actually on time. The tour of the school is gripping in the filth and mud that the children walk in and learn in. The headmaster though is very forward thinking and  is excited that we have come. He tells me they also have a deaf school that is on their grounds. Ok, perhaps most if not all of you don’t know that in an earlier version of myself back in the 70’s and 80’s I worked with the deaf. I am quite fluent in sign language and my heart leapt for joy as I thought of seeing those kids here.

We went over to where they were playing, since they don’t mix with the hearing school. I walked right up to the first girl I saw and started signing my name and sign and where I came from. Her eyes opened wide, no one could believe the muzungu could do that. Very quickly I was surrounded by these amazing kids, whose sign was a lot better than the American kids I used to work with. I immediately invited them to join us for the meeting and for the girls to learn about the sanitary towels.

Shyly they came to the other side. They sat way in the back where I knew they couldn’t see me interpret for them. So I told them in sign that they belonged here and that they had to sit up front so they could understand what was going on. With encouragement they came up front and all the others saw that they were part of the activities and that the muzungu would interpret. (turns out I didn’t need to there were a couple of teachers who did a fine job) And what’s better for the first time I

Understood everything because I could read the sign language. And I knew that God said yes.

The parents were incredible in their enthusiasm, the team was it’s extraordinary self, it was as if new life was breathed into every one of us. The girls learned about the pads altogether, hearing and deaf.  And they asked Vera good questions. The parents were anxious to get started and next week the team will be back to work on their budget and action plan. Wow, we were really rocking! It was that moment I pray for every trip, and it’s always when I’m not sure it’s really going to happen.

But God said yes.

I’ll wrap it up for y’all tomorrow.

norton it’s not just the cow but the rains.

I am back at the Blue York after a day in the field. The torrents of rain are hurtling against the roof and windows, and of course there is no power now. It was not a good day. I am frustrated and disappointed by Nambale ACK and KMET.

It didn’t start well and went down hill rather rapidly. Last year when we started there were throngs of people. There were people from the town and the district who didn’t have kids in that school. I met with resounding endorsement for the idea of the feeding program. And by resounding I mean over 1000 people were clapping and enthusiastic for it to begin. Feed just the lower grades? No they wanted to feed all the grades and they were going to do it.

It is now 1 year later. There were less than 60 parents there. The feeding program which was to be shared by the community, is in the toilet. I found out today that they are only feeding the ECD (early childhood development) class. They are the only parents that are still contributing. Blank stares and innui looked out at me. When I asked them if they knew that our money was leaving in a year, they looked shocked. Now folks, I know, and KMET sat on the same stage telling them this is how the program works. But see a muzungu face (white girl) and it’s donor time. I was beyond tired and angry, but you can’t show those things to the villagers; it would have to wait until we had team meeting at night. I sat numbly through the rest of the meeting, sometimes I slipped on my headphones so I could leave without leaving.

Monica and her team did their thing, but by the end even Monica was angry and said if they didn’t participate she had other places to go. Funny that was my feeling, but I’m glad she said it. The community responded that they were going to make it compulsory that every parent contribute their share. I’ll be waiting to see.

So here I am 10 years later, wondering if it can be done. Can a small non-profit partner with an NGO and get a community to take care of their children? Micro-finance surely works, but getting a community to come together to feed their children, with all the support that they are getting…Nambale ACK was a real slap in the face, and Manyole was a chasm that OVAAT will not put more money into.

My hope lies with the 2 new schools. Can the new approach of PICD  work? I need to see the schools, surely, but perhaps tomorrow I won’t tell them where I am from or what I am doing there. Maybe I shall just be a consultant, so that they don’t see an unending source of money. We’ll talk about it in team meeting.

As for me today, I am tired of the rain, the mud, the lack of power, the lack of connection to the outside world, ha no connection to the outside world. Maybe that’s the key. If you don’t know what is going on outside then you see yourselves as victims, you are passive, you wait. Only when you think you are part of a future, part of a plan might you decide to change your attitude. Perhaps; but as for me, now, it’s time for another cold wash from the spigot and creepy food.

I’m gonna keep the faith y’all. Will you join me?

I So Dirty My Dirt is Covered in Dirt

Yeah and I’m a crispy critter too. So much for SPF 30, there’s no fighting the Kenyan sun. You only have to be out in it 15 minutes to fry, so I will be a dermatological dream again.

I am constantly telling my clients that they must surrender ego, that it is always up to the universe to make things happen. Old ego and I had a real smack down today. We were supposed to get to Malanga at 11A, then it was changed to noon, but we didn’t get there until 2P. That made me crazy since I, of course, was on time. But it turns out the KMET van broke down, Monica didn’t really know her way and wasn’t traveling with us and well it’s Kenya. By the tie we got there folks had been sitting waiting since 8A. And to make things worse the headteacher, Maloba, had told the new school we would be there by 11A. So we were pissing people off all over the place. We had to apologize at Malanga, then we had to split up so some of us could go and placate the new schools while the others worked out the exit plan at Malanga. Suffice it to say ego did not like where this was heading. Ego likes things organized, ego anticipates problems and leaves time for them, and ego was really snarky.
I went to the new school ,Nangina. By that time it was 3P and they had been waiting 6 hours. I felt terrible and apologized as best I could but they were still not having it.
So I got Francis to go to the car and get a bag of sweets that I always carry for the kids. In this case I needed to sweeten the mood of the parents and passed out the lollipops. I had to make a joke of it and they seemed a bit better.

But you know you’re in trouble when there are no speeches and few introductions. And the dancing girls were no where to be seen. The KMET team was first up and gave their schpiele for the first 30 minutes. We covered micro-finance, nutrition and partnership. We were missing a lot of the team cuz they were back at Malanga.

And then it was Mama OVAAT time. And something miraculous happened, it wasn’t’ about me anymore. It was about them. It was about building a team, a partnership. It was about telling them how much I believed in them and that with a little push they could make it on their own. I asked them if they would join our team, team Nangina and they said YES!! And then the old cheerleader or preacher in me broke out and I got them chanting yes we can and passed out faith bracelets to everyone of them so they could identify as members of the team and they were united and it was glorious and it was all about God not that dirty little ego. It was truly amazing grace.

We broke for a quick lunch (which I always avoid). I’ve gotten so good at it I take out my diabetic kit and prick my finger at the table, then shake my head and say sorry the number is not right for me to eat that. (trust me I don’t care whether it’s 80 or 180 it’s “never right”). So after a few handfuls of rice I want to see the children. The children breathe life back into me as surely as water lifts a marathon runner. Maybe it is runner’s high.

We finished at 5P and went to the lovely Blue York. Dinner and review of the day followed by no internet and very little electricity. No matter, since I’m so dirty I’m totally ok with washing with cold water. I didn’t have a choice really,
What always continues to amaze me is the teamwork that happens with the KMET crew. As I reflect on the day, and I see how they work as a team, reflect on the good and the bad and plan the next day I know I am with a group of remarkable people. Everyone is equal and respected and while sometimes it is not the most efficient process, their staff is dedicated, inventive, and a delight to work with.

So I end the night in grace and for that I am grateful. I’ll post this when I can.
Keep the faith y’all

13 November 2011

Today we drive the Great Rift Valley. I don’t remember when exactly I started driving the Rift instead of flying. Probably when I smartened up and realized that a. it was much cheaper and b. it brings me to my heart home as I travel the different climes that are the Rift.  First we hit a crest and look down on the long fertile valley, then we pass through miles of tea and coffee plantations, and then into the orange roads that signal the small towns teeming with people, farm animals roaming the streets and mounds and mounds of produce. Potatoes stacked in pyramids, onions, tomatoes. As we move further on we get to the villagers  carrying great stalks of banannas and finally pineapples. Poverty abounds, naked children playing in the dirt, tall regal women with huge loads of sticks or water in jerry cans atop their heads, and everyone is walking by the side of the road.

Once in a while we see a private car like our own. But mostly it is the lorries and crazy matatu drivers (these are Toyota fans which are supposed to seat 9 but are often crammed with as many as 20 in them). The matatus are usually the culprits in the horrendous vehicle deaths that run rampant on the roads. A couple of weeks ago 25  people were killed because a Matatu tried to outrun a lorry and didn’t make it. I used to drive in those when I first started here; but even I gave up as they were so incredibly dangerous. Sometimes you see a boda boda (bike carrying someone for money). Life can be very cheap here and it is taken for granted that road deaths occur regularly. I don’t ride boda bodas either.

I am anxious to get going. Francis shall be here fairly soon given the traffic and what he has to attend to at home. I will film some of the Rift and post it for you.

I have officially been spooked by the security. I have checked out and had 3 bags. I left my black briefcase on the couch in the lobby while I went to the loo. It was scooped up immediately. Then,I got questioned by the guard as to whether it was mine. And since Francis is late, I decided to go to the ATM to get some cash. Again, I was questioned by 2 guards about my walkabout. And then another at the bank and then I was frisked to get back into the hotel. Yeah, who says they’re not worried?

Catch you in Kisumu

1. There’s a guard at the end of the hall. He stays there all the time. There are metal detectors and 3 guards at the main door as well as guards outside.
2. I was supposed to meet with my friend Beatrice today, but she is in a meeting until 4P. I asked her to meet me for dinner, but it’s not safe for her to travel at night
3. I told Francis we need to go to the Market at noon. When I called him at 11:30A to see if he was almost here, he hadn’t left home yet. So it will now be closer to 1P before we can go.
4. I’m supposed to meet Douglas at 3P. Now I would be late for that meeting if I went to the market, but it’s ok because I haven’t heard from Douglas so if we meet it will be much later if at all.
5. And then there’s eating which doesn’t seem to follow any schedule. So my planned lunch with Beatrice is gone, tea with Douglas is a question and I had breakfast at 8, but I guess like peeing, it’s nuts and water till 6P now.
Now guys, this is just how it works. No one is being rude or disrespectful. They say yes to everything and then figure it out as they go along. Francis clearly had something he had to do today and didn’t want to tell me, cuz he’s being paid by the day. So he’ll just be late. And Beatrice, she loves me as a sister, but her community where she lives, her church etc. are all very important and she just figured she would fit it in. Douglas…well Douglas is an anathema but maybe I’ll meet with him and maybe I won’t.

Oh yeah, and one more thing. Francis kept one of my suitca

I have entered into the amorphous part of travel. I have no idea what time it is. By my calculations I have been traveling for over 24 hours, but I still have a 13-hour flight to Kenya. Security is tight here in Amsterdam with a second screening. The strange thing about my traveling is that I enter into this zone of peace, which carries me through to the end. I have audio books and kindle and movies of my own and so however long it takes is fine.

I know I am on my way home to Kenya because the faces are so different sitting here at the airport. Now I see the faces of Kenya, I see the Kikuyu, the luo and the luya. I actually can pick out the facial differences of most of the tribes now and know Somalis from Ethiopians from Eritreans. A Somali drove me to the airport and we had a cool conversation about El Shabbab. He is from Southern Somalia and I think he daren’t say that he supports El Shabbab, but he wasn’t putting them down either.

It looks to be an interesting trip this time.

Because I am white and don’t belong to any tribe, people from all tribes tell me stuff they would never say aloud with other tribes. So I shall be interested to hear what people’s take is on El Shabbab.

More later when I land in Nairobi. I am looking forward to the warm moist air and the night sky. It is the short rains right now, but hopefully they will have passed for the day and I shall be able to look out onto the endless spectrum of stars that dot the horizon and the moon radiates above.

12 November 2011

It’s the little things that now make me laugh. Americans would really be upset if their phone number changed every 6 months or so. Once I landed I had to tank up my Kenya phone. Because I use it every 6 months or so, and can’t tank it up in the U.S, it means that I have a new sim card often. Which means I must call everyone and give him or her my new number. Which means that I have to buy extra cards so that I can call my friends and contacts here. It’s just part of how it works here.

I got in late, as usual and the lines for customs were long and ponderous. But again, it’s just part of the deal. Folks who were tweaking didn’t get anywhere and I figure waiting in the visa line beats waiting for luggage and getting crushed in the mix. Since my suitcases are all hand painted by me, I know no one is going to take them. And since they both weighed in over the weight limit, most folks can’t even ick them up.

It was great to see Francis waiting, and his son John who has grown exponentially since I saw him last. Francis says things have quieted down here in Nairobi, so we’re going to the Westlands to Masaii market today. I hate shopping and quibbling with the vendors, so I like to get it over as soon as possible. I swear Francis is my Kenyan husband and understands me well. We have our routine down pat and I’m glad we both slip into our easy friendship so quickly.

Ok, I’m hoping to post this now, since I’m in one of the better hotels and they ostensibly have Internet. It wasn’t working last night and there were some pretty angry muzungus. It’s going to be a long trip for them if they get upset about not having Internet. What are they going to do when there’s no power or water?? Oh, no they won’t be staying in those places.

Catch you later y’all

Is it really almost 10 years since my first time in Siaya?  Imagine! (the Kenyans say this word with such emphasis it loses a bit in the translation). I went to Kenya that first time on complete faith and trust that my guardian angels and God would watch over me. I had met 2 ministers in Addis Ababa and was flying back to Africa to meet them.

One lived just outside Nairobi, and the other lived in Siaya. I knew nothing of either place, but Siaya was really out there. I flew into the tiny airport in Kisumu and was met by Mama Daniel and her brother, Ben.  I had no idea where I would be staying or what I would actually learn, but so like a freshman in college, I was up for it.

The history of Siaya is contained in the blogs of long ago. I am in awe that people had enough faith in me stateside that they raised the money, developed One Village at a Time into a non-profit and never knew how little I knew. It was, as they say, the Beta project. It ended very very badly. People in Siaya were pissed and so were my brother and sister-in-law whose daughters had gone over to get caught up in my debacle.  It wasn’t pretty.

Now, now I know the importance of so many things including good partners on the ground. I know how things work in Kenya (as much as anyone can). Our program has developed into something truly remarkable. We have gone from a rag tag feeding station in Siaya feeding 26 kids for $4000 to feeding 2000 kids for 6 months for the same price. And we are improving their lives and their parents lives. It’s a real macro approach.

Nambale is graduating 2 schools, a new one will enter to partner with the one we took in last year. And I am going back to Siaya. Funny how things work. Monica had asked me to work in her home village and of course I said yes. Then she told me it was Siaya. I must admit I blanched, and I am hoping they don’t string me up when I come back into town. I’m thinking that if I’m riding with Monica and Francis it will be ok.

So come with me now dear readers as we travel back to where I began.  It’s going to be a really cool journey and I promise to tell all the truth, not just some of it. And in the end, hopefully, you will know me and why I do what I do.

Keep the Faith Y’all.