Ta Daaa!

I am mackilicious. I love all things Apple and have lusted after a new computer for some time now. I know the IPad is out, but that interests me not at all. I’m too much of a size queen for that and 250GB was just too enticing. So undaunted I went out and got one. I reasoned that it would be infinitely easier to edit video this way, more room, better software blah blah blah. Indeed all of the assumptions were true, however, mastering the new puppy is a work in progress.

Film editing is not for the faint of heart. Despite Apple’s intuitive ILife, it took me well over 40 hours to complete this, my first masterpiece, on the new Macbook Pro. However, I’m pretty happy with the results. So without further ado, I give you my first attempt at truly showing what we are doing in Kenya.

I leave a week from today. As the snow falls soundlessly outside, I am overwhelmed by what lies ahead. Surely this is not my first trip over nor shall it be my last, however I am struck by the decisions my colleagues and I must make. It has come into sharper focus because of the things happening in Haiti.

Last night, on CNN, I saw a sun burned Sean Penn being interviewed by some reporter. He talks about the impending disaster still to come, the rains and typhoid, and cholera. He speaks of the squalid conditions that already existed in Haiti. The reporter presses him about what happens when the focus is no longer on Haiti and Penn struggles for an answer; an answer I know and maybe he does too. People will forget and move on. Most of the money will go to the wrong people, and the most vulnerable will teeter on the edge of existence. Many will fall off. There will be a few intrepid workers who will stay and try and make a difference. The decisions, dear readers, are what wear us down the most, not the work.

I shall go to Nambale and pray that the schools are in better order and able to work with us to create that self-sustaining dream we have. With the grace of God and the help of our partner KMET, I believe we shall succeed. However for every one child we feed in Nambale 20 are starving in Siaya, or Kitali. To decide how the aid shall be doled out and to whom; to insist on certain standards so we are the most efficient is the only way to succeed. But it is also to leaving others to fend for them. And lock or no lock on my heart, I realize the enormity of the problem and today I am rocked by the decisions.

One of my bags is packed. I carry books, software for the medical records and lollipops. The lollipops make me feel better, though they do little to alleviate the suffering. Maybe they give the children hope that next time Mama Susan comes it will be their turn to be fed. I know it helps me see a smile.

So when the cameras in Haiti stop filming, when I go off to do the very small amount that I do, don’t be impressed by the work the aid workers do, be impressed by the decisions we must make and know that we always wish we could do more.

Keep the faith y’all. Talk to you again when I hit Nairobi.

Tonight one of my clients was talking to me about doing great things or wishing that she would do great things like I do. I was taken aback by this comment. There is no one who does any great thing without the help of so many others. It seems to me that if you seek greatness for greatness sake you have lost your way. It is by passing the torch to the next generation that creates greatness, not shining it on oneself. There is nothing about what I do in Kenya that isn’t on the shoulders of so many incredible people. It’s easy to stand at the top, but a lot harder to hold the person up. So I am grateful for all the amazing people who volunteer countless hours to help with a website, to run a fundraiser, to design posters, to keep the books, to write the notes, and to keep me on my toes. I hope if you’re reading this you all know whom you are.

The client and I continued our musings about women here in the U.S. She is with a group examining the issues of violence, safety and trust with women. My mind took me back, immediately to this post that I have been putting off.

I have been tardy in this latest post. I suspect it has to do with the grim truth of what it can mean to be a woman in Africa. I read in the Kenyan papers last week that the army is moving into Meru and the women are fleeing for fear of rape.

I have become somewhat inured to the violence in Sierra Leone, Sudan, The Congo, but somehow I missed something because I didn’t think it would happen in my beloved Kenya. They’re not at war with anyone right now, the troops are going in to ferret out guns left by the mungiki, but, alas, it seems that no woman in Africa is safe around an army. Furthermore that probably goes for the police as well.

I am preparing to return to Kenya soon. My heart skips a beat when I think of getting back there. I miss Monica and Francis and Miriam. I want to smell the rain and hear it crash on the tin roofs. I want to hear the children chanting and laughing and whispering “muzungu”. And in all this time I have only been afraid a couple of times. Somehow I think it is true God takes care of fools and children. I would be the former.

Yet, it has occurred to me that without a couple of friends I have made I am the same as any African woman. The safety I feel when I walk the streets of Boston or nod to a cop standing on the street, I don’t feel over there. And surely I know not to go out at night. But I can leave and they can’t. I can’t imagine what that must be like and that makes me sad.

I write tonight for women all over the world. I pray for girls who have no home, fear rape, beatings, and loneliness. I think of millions of mothers who wonder what they will feed their children, and even if their children will make it home safely. I hope as we begin this new decade that we make space for safety and trust for women and girls. And that one day women and girls will be able to walk down any street in any city with her head held high and her heart unafraid.

Keep the faith y’all.

From the Nation 12/24

Women and girls flee region as swoop on illegal weapons starts

Three weeks ago, Defence minister Yussuf Haji warned security officers against using excessive force to disarm residents.

Mr Haji urged the officers to uphold human rights and carry out the disarmament with a human face.

On his part, Livestock Development minister Mohammed Kuti urged the government to establish a complaints office to track the activities of the officers who will carry out the operation.

But Mr Kamitu, who is drawn from the GSU, said that the operation will be safe and called on locals to cooperate with the officers.

He urged the residents to immediately report any cases of torture or rape to him or to the DC’s office to allow for timely action to be taken against the culprits.

The operation commander also warned residents against resisting police search, saying that this may lead to the use of force.

“If you engage the officers in fire exchange or develop some resistance, they will use force to conduct the operation,” he warned.

Tomorrow is World AIDS Day. It is no day of celebration for me. I remember my best friend dying of it 7 years ago, and my heart still aches. I see the children with eyes yellowed by the disease, a headmaster shriveling away under my gaze and I pray that some people will remember that AIDS is not over. So many here in the U.S don’t think about it, don’t see it. People are living longer, getting better medications, but folks still don’t want to talk about it too much.
The headmaster at the rural school in Kenya reeked of AIDS 5 years ago:I knew just by
looking at him. No one wanted to talk about it, no one would let me talk to him. I would have supported his medication…but no, no one not even the headmaster himself would allow the help. That to me is the greatest part of the heartbreak with AIDS. Just like here in the 80′s and 90′s we couldn’t talk about it. In Africa to go get a test means infidelity, which of course is real and happens “in the best of families”. But it seems that folks would rather die than talk about the consequences.

So this World AIDS Day, talk about it. To my African friends, speak out, speak up. I’m looking forward to the day we don’t have to have World AIDS Day!

Often I am asked to describe conditions in the part of Kenya where I work. I’m not saying that Nairobi doesn’t have some swanky hotels (which this E.D can’t afford), but once you get out to Kisumu anything that can go wrong will. It’s a total inevitability.
As a longtime lover of trains, I thought taking a train through the Rift would be delightful. Of course all my Kenyan friends thought I was nuts. Hmmm, I’m beginning to get the picture.
As you all know I feel compelled to read the Nation every day, even while visiting the new grandchild. Sometimes the Nation brings me to despair, but today it was just so funny I had to publish it whole. The words in bold are my comments, otherwise it’s right from the Nation.
“The Lunatic Express”

By PAUL JUMAPosted Wednesday, November 4 2009 at 22:00
In Summary
• How a promotional train ride to western Kenya turned out to be a scary trip
So, when the train finally set off in the wee hours of Monday, it was a relief, especially for the “wananchi”. Those that had slept on the floor got up took up their seats.
But the relief would be short-lived. Around 8am (Monday), the train ground to a halt after Fort Ternan station, at a section where the railway line lies at the bottom of a valley, with a forest escarpment on either side.
Passengers tried making phone calls but the area did not have any mobile network coverage. (and this happens all the time folks i keep trying to explain this to people back home who want me to keep in touch)
After hours of hopelessness in the middle of the forest, an official on aboard informed the Nairobi station that the train had stalled; and another engine was sent to the rescue from Fort Ternan.
But the rescue did not come that fast. When it finally arrived, it was attached at the rear end and started pulling the train back to where we had come from!(yeah directionality is not a strong point over there_
Passengers were told that the replacement engine could not haul the train all the way to Nairobi and could only tow it back to Fort Ternan where another engine would be fixed.
And the journey took reverse gear. At Fort Ternan, the engine that had returned us was removed, another one fixed and the forward gear was engaged.
Misfortune struck (Oh yes this is Africa)
On reaching Molo, another misfortune struck. The replacement engine had “poured out all the water” and it had overheated. The remedy initially meant simply waiting while the engine cooled off. Later, it was decided to despatch another engine from Nakuru station.
That was around 3pm, and another round of waiting. Some passengers who were transporting sacks of fresh farm produce decided enough was enough.
They alighted and intercepted Nairobi-bound matatus from the nearby road, loaded their wares and jumped in.
When the new engine from Nakuru arrived and got fixed to the train, it was around 5pm. The new leg of the journey form Molo started.
It was around midnight when the tired passengers reached Nakuru, and another six hours before the weary souls woke up at the Nairobi Railway Station around 6am, Tuesday. That was 25 hours after departure from Kisumu, not counting the initial eight-hour delay.

That’s why I tell people never to worry about being late, because if you get to my place within a day or so, it’s just fine.

It’s been a while since I’ve checked in. I read in the Nation and the Standard, Kenya’s papers that there are “rumors” that youth are arming themselves for the 2012 elections. I know they’re not rumors since I’ve heard what the tribes say about each other. However, it’s 2 years away and the folks don’t want to scare away what tourist bucks they can get.

In the North of Kenya there is drought while where I work they are preparing for floods and cholera. Famine continues in Masai land while the Sio threatens to overflow it’s banks next to Manyole and Malanga School. And the beat goes on.

We’re working on a grant to bring micro-computers to rural Kenya and change the way health care is done over there. We have an amazing team putting that together. One of the members donated a cow to one of the schools. While I can’t find a photo of her, I did come across this movie of Lillian that I made 3 years ago and decided it’s time for you to meet Lillian.

I know the accents are hard for American ears, but do try. The story is quite compelling.
And in the meantime, keep the faith y’all.

I must say I am deliriously happy with the state of affairs the Republicans now find themselves in. I missed a couple of scandals while in Kenya (they have their own but I won’t report them), but I did get back in time for Mark Sanford. Wow, what a story, the man definitely crossed the vaginot line (look up Maginot Line for the analogy all you young ‘uns). Talk about oversharing, I didn’t really need to know how far he went and I’m not alluding to frequent flyer miles. Although a trip to Argentina without telling anyone on his staff or his wife is a really impressive way to screw yourself over.Another presidential candidate bites the dust.

And Friday oh the joy of it all…Sarah Palin resigned! Seems she’s already got lawyers threatening any bloggers who speculate about Sarah’s resignation, her family, or anything else they don’t consider flattering with slander. I hope they don’t mean me because I plan on slandering her right here right now. Sarah Palin is the bossy fat kid who hits another girl and when she gets clobbered she whines that it’s not her fault. She’s the teenager that had to belong to right clique so she could diss on all the other girls. Any red-blooded American woman knows or knew a Sarah Palin. So she quit, wa wa wa. How do you quit being a Governor? I betting the scandals are going to break soon. She was caught in a compromising position with an elk (not of the brotherhood but of the horned headed elks), or Todd is really gay or …. it doesn’t really matter. Another Republican blew himself/herself up and that delights bomb throwing liberal Mother Madrigal enormously.

Hooray for the 4th of July and Republicans blowing themselves up like Roman Candles. If you go to the fireworks store in N.H starting today you can get them 2 for 1, Roman Candles that is.

Keep the faith y’all.

4 June 2009

The Mara

We are up early to leave for the Mara. We know it will be an 8 hour drive, but it doesn’t dawn on us until fhe 5th hour how truly long the drive shall be. The landscape passes, ending green,, vast skies that 4 June 2009

stretch to eternity. However, we have traveled so many miles during the trip that it is beginning to wear on us.

As I have the time to be still and watch out the window I think of the plight of women here. They are really, for the most part, no more than beasts of burden. The rights they have, they are mostly too afraid to exercise, and if they do they ri8sk ostracization from the community. Women are the ones who carry the water, the sticks for firewood, the sugar cane on their heads as well as countless other things. I see small girls no more than 5 carrying loads on their head. I try to think what this is comparable to. .Francis and I launch into our usual discussion of this. He comes at me with the same arguments men have used since time immemorial. 1. Women don’t have it so bad. 2. Some women have it better, they have formed some groups, 3. It is our Society (and with this I get a nervous laugh).It’s the way it has always been. (and I think to myself and how’s that working for your country?) . I give up because I remember this discussion from 45 years ago. My heart sinks. It is the same argument women in my country have had since we struggled for the vote and I know I am not here to change their political system

For a comparison t I go to what I know, the deep South during the time of slavery, but the analogy won’t work. There even under slavery, men and women were slaves, not just women. And then I realize that the society here is more like feudal China where men were all powerful and women were powerless to be sold, worked to death, pushed aside for a newer wife, girl children were considered a misfortune at best and a curse most of the time. I wonder if it will take a Mao Tse Tung here to bring about the change necessary for Kenya to come up to modern standards.

What I do realize is that someone like Monica or Miriam must fight even harder than I did. During the 60’s and 70’s at least I didn’t have to worry about dying for my beliefs. But AIDS ravages people in their prime. Since women are so devalued, they are used to being abused, raped, or girls going into prostitution right out of junior high because there is no other way for them., How do you fight with an army that is crippled by a disease they can’t even feel comfortable getting tested for. And if they have no reproductive freedom then where does one begin if they are either, pregnant, mothers of many children, or dying of AIDS or widows because of AIDS. The mind boggles and I must remind myself that God sends many angels and this is not my fight.

The landscape changes dramatically as we begin to enter the Mara. The terrain is more of a savanah than the the fields of Maize, and coffee and sugar cane which we have seen for hours. The people are elegant robed in bright red and purple. We have entered the land of the Masai. One cannot help but be overwhelmed by the vastness of the terrain, or the dust that blows through the windows as we traverse an unending road of sand and rocks. However when we first spot a herd of Zebras it is an incredible sight.

I suspect I have never gone on Safari because I have never dreamed of it as others do. That I guess and I don’t like to rough it in hiking gear and sleeping in tents nor rising at the crack of dawn to tick off my list seeing the “big 5” animals as t those who become dreamy eyed when they hear I am going on Safari. I’m much more of a pool and spa girl if I’m not working.

We arrive at the Balloon place first. I have graciously offered to take everyone since Francis told me it was about $50 US. I doubled that and figured even at $300 for all of us it was worth it. Wrong, seems the going price is $350 per person. And the guy just isn‘t going down on the price. He remains firm. It‘s way out of Brett‘s budget and I’m still mulling it over as we pull up to the lodge. There as we arrive are groups of baby monkeys and some other animal having the time of their lives chasing each other. One really understands the saying “monkey business”. I am enchanted and when we go to our rooms, I am giddy with delight..

How cool is it to walk out your front door of your room and have an elephant grazing less than 20 feet away, or have baboons frolicking on your front porch? Or a path of 300 meters that will take you to the Hippo pond? Yes folks we’re in the Mara where the exotic is everyday and most people are here to spend thousands of dollars to see the wild animals. .

The place is sensational with all the things MM needs to be refreshed and clean. It is a charming place, built by the Brits in the style of the Awanee in Yosemite if you know of that place. Definitely a lodge with fab cabins, a place of peace and serenity with hot and cold running water. Sweeeet!

The guy from the balloon place comes over that night. I have decided to go for it and take the balloon myself. That is until he tells me I have to be ready at 5:45A. Freaking M. Ah no, I’m all set with that. Not even the promise of floating over the Serengeti can get me up at that hour.

So it looks like we’re driving the Mara. We leave the next morning at a leisurely 9:30 which is just fine.
We do get to see more hippos and gazelle, huge giraffe and a few birds, no rhino’s or lions. Again you have to get up EARLY for that, so it’s an opportunity I can miss. We are back at the hotel by 2 ish and get ready for our massages. I trot off to the pool which is under renovation, but still great. I must admit hearing the hippos make flubby noises and having monkeys run across you as you lie down is alluring, but the massage is even more so. We are coming to a close. Tomorrow we shall drive unending miles in more dirt and bone racking hours in the car to get back to Nairobi tomorrow to leave. For now, though, I reflect on where I am and what we have accomplished and I secretly smile to myself. Today it’s good to be me

And God Saw It and It Was Good

This is not an easy journal entry to write. For so long I have had a dream of what could be, how the schools of Nambale could grow…how I wanted to help the women and children to be empowered and feed themselves. It has been 7 years since I started this journey and today I finally know we are planted firmly on the way forward.

We went to the Malanga school early so that I could meet with the parents, children, and teachers before KMET was to arrive. We were surrounded in a sea of children chanting welcome, clapping of parents, teachers. I am used to it, but to have Brett with me to see how the people respond made it far more special.

As always it is good to get back to my hone schools. I know the teachers and families and we know the roads we have traveled. It was made even better because the Manyole parents came as well as two vans of parents from Khwerila school where Miriam was the new headmistress.

I described what we wanted to do in partnering with KMET and all the opportunities that lay ahead of them. It was still difficult to get away from the donor mentality and the men surely were not n favor of empowering the women. But all sides needed to be heard. I was amazed at the progress they had made even in the time since my last meeting and several women had set up cooperative businesses. I saw that what I had planted over the past few years was really growing.

You know, I never know what I have accomplished when I finish a trip. I generally think it went well, but because I only see them every 9 months I cannot know all that they have done. I was so proud of all of them I was grinning and trying not to cry.

Finally at 2P KMET came in to talk to everyone there. They are beyond descriptio, but everything I had dreamed of. They can unite the people, empower the women, help the girls and truly raise up the community, Together we shall make a big difference. However, I have turned over the running of the feeding program and micro-finance to KMET. And in so doing I knew that I was giving my children to the care of another. While I felt such a great accomplishment, I must admit that I felt a bit sad and somewhat at a loss as to the way forward.

What I do know is that the opportunities to help through KMET, Millenium project and my incredible board much shall be accomplished. And like a good Mother I must know when the chickens can leave the nest. So it was a happy sad day, but I know I shall see more when I return and I also had tomorrow to look forward to . I was returning home to Manyole, my secret favorite of the group.

We could hear the singing as we turned up the dusty road, the women were dancing and the children were lined up singing. I had to get out of the car and dance with the women all the way up to the school. There was wild excitement as I entered the grounds . It is always overwhelming when that happens and I think even Brett was a bit taken aback.

The children did their usual dances and poems. I am always amazed at their awareness of the world around them. They sang a song about the problems of Kenya and it covered everything from the fighting in the government to AIDS to the Mungiki to child abuse. They know so much more about their country than their agemates do in the U.S.

Once the festivities were over the speeches began. As always they were gearing up for the ask.Seems that we have been helping the parents save their money because of what we have given. That wasn’t the intention, By now they were supposed to be feeding all the children, not just 7th and 8th grade. Even the Headmaster had a hard time wrapping his head around our desire to feed the entire school. However they are a faithful group and their Christianity is very powerful, so I’m afraid I used all my skills to figure out how to get the point across that all children must be fed.

I asked on of the teachers to fetch me a 1st grader, 3rd grader and an 8th grader. Then I lined all the children up and asked the parents which child God loved the most. They were astonished and quickly answered that all are equal in God’s eyes. So I said if they believed it then why were only some children getting fed. It was a showstopper and they are now ready to feed all the kids by digging deep.

This is not to say that there were not some major improvements by the parents.
Their progress in income generating projects was nothing short of miraculous. . They had taken the teaching of last October and really run with it. They had formed groups themselves and had begun micro-finance without us! The women who were running a very successful poultry business proudly gave me a bowl for eggs, many eggs and a live hen.
(I must admit Mother does not like live chickens). However Brett was beside me and after I had taken it he quickly hid it where I could not see it. They were also lending each other money and they had a group for grains and one for dairy all of which were making progress.

It was then that I was truly struck with how far I had come on this journey. It is painful to know that I am giving them over, mostly now, to Monica and KMET. I know it is best, but I don’t know what my role shall be with the schools now, and there was a lump in my throat as I bid mbuela (goodbye) to them. I know I shall be back, but it the road is not so clear.

We left Nambale and traveled back to Kisumu and I got to meet with Monica one last time. She told me I had done a great job and when she sees Manyole she will be blown away. Her words meant so much to me. She is a woman I admire and know is doing great things. I needed to hear that what I had done helped. I guess we all need applause.

Transitions are not easy, but they are needed for something to be organic and grow in ways that I cannot even think. So I think about Genesis and how after each thing God created He smiled and said it is good, and I felt on our way out of Kisumu that God was shining down and smiling offering me encouragement that this what He had in mind all along. I just had to find the way myself. It was good to be home in Nambale.
And God Saw It and It Was Good

Thank God for Cipro

31 May 2009

Thank God for Cipro! Yesterday was spent close to the room and the loo for both of us. However we rallied in time to get off to Nambale by 4P.About an hour outside Nambale I could feel my spirits sing as I knew I was nearing home. I watched the fields change and the shambas start to show up on the side of the road. I watched as the towns grew sparser and the sky became enormous. There is nothing like an African sky, I can assure. I hoped when we got to Nambale Brett would totally fall in love and leave a part of his heart here.

We had dinner with the teachers from the 2 old schools we had been partnering with and Miriam‘s new school. I knew I needed Miriam as part of whatever team I was on. I spent a bit of time catching up on how the schools were doing, since the reports I got were so bare as to be non-existent. I then sold them on KMET and I think they saw the virtue in the partnership. I know both Manyole and Malanga are government or Anglican schools and I am not truly convinced that they own this program. I know the headmasters of those 2 schools were expecting checks.

I explained the program for Tuesday for all 3 schools and told them to come prepared to give an accounting of the progress of the program. I do know that they spent what I gave them in October by December and did not budget so I shall be curious as to what they tell me. I have had mixed feelings about what I should do about money for their feeding programs since they are in non-compliance, and finally at the end of today I figured it out. We shall match shilling or shilling what the parents put in. I‘ll let you know later how much we have to shell out.

This morning we went to Miriam’s school. This is the worst school I have seen so far in terms of what the children have for structure and supplies. However it was built and paid for by the parents and that thrills me. There are no desks or chairs, no books, no windows. There is not cook hut to prepare the meagerest of meals. Miriam has no office, she must sit outside under the veranda. It is the typical Kenya shaft job on Miriam. She was supposed to be headmistress of Manyole which is a large well equipped school, but another teacher from Malanga got the posting so Miriam now has to commute 60km back and forth on a Matatu (van crowded with people) for 15 Km and then rides the second 15 Km on the back of a boda boda (bicycle).

Today was a holiday here in Kenya, so when I saw the one real room packd with parents and teachers, I was extremely impressed. They are serious about working together.. There were the usual songs and dances, the children are quite small and not as polished as the other 2 schools but that lends them a certain charm for their effort.Onec the speeches were over it was my turn and I tried to steer them away from the idea of a donor and towards a partnership. I explained what KMET did and how it helped to empower women. I may have been a bit strong on that idea and shall have to back track. Francis told me on the way home that if the men feel pushed aside they will scotch the entire venture. So with that in mind, while sweating here writing I just sent a message to Miriam that I would also pay for a van of men to come to the shindig tomorrow. No point is pissing people off, which is something I am prone to do from time to time.

Brett was wonderful as he explained about building a bridge from Kenya to America and back. That was a real touch of genius because it once again emphasized we are not donors but partners. I suspect as long as I come here I shall have to do that educating thing. The reassuring part for me is to watch a pro like Monica struggle with the same thing. She, too, is constantly talking about teaching how to fish not giving a fish. I know it is the only way we shall succeed in truly changing the lives of the people here. But I am hopeful.

Doom did not occur. Miriam got everyone in shape, Francis’ car is working well, and tomorrow is the big meeting of the 3 schools and KMET. It is always a walk of faith for me. God wants it that way. However in the end it all gets done and I remember why I was called here. I remember the amazing people and connections that I have made. I see that Miriam belongs at that tiny school since it is only she that can bring it to fruition. They shall be the model. It always goes back to that day outside of Debra Libanos, Ethiopia 7 years ago. There I felt it, be a raindrop, God will bring the rain.

And on that note dear reader I close for today. Tomorrow shall be an eye opener and I hope I am up to the challenge.