I Just Can't Resist
First I know you're confused by the blog because the last part is first. So you have to scroll down to 3 October and read up instead of down. Sorry about that.

Second I know everyone is head over heels with Tina Fey, but you just have to check this one out. I think it's fabulous. And remember there are only 2 more weeks of this insanity. Lets hope we don't have Sarah and her kid to kick around anymore. BTW do you think she'll give the baby back if she doesn/t win?

See more funny videos at Funny or Die

We'll Get a Luo First

I must say I'm overjoyed that Colin Powell came out for Barack Obama. I can't tell you how happy I would be if we got the first Luo/American President. Some of my friends on Facebook can't believe it, but the world is indeed watching and I pray we get it right.
And now for the final installment of
Miles to go before I sleep...
11 October 2008

Yesterday began as all mornings do at the lovely Blue York, no power and again a cold shower. I struggle to down the breakfast and am most anxious about the meeting with Monica. The night before I had prayed hard and surrendered it all up to God. For you who are non-believers, this practice might seem foolish, but I have always found that when I totally surrender my will to Him, the path is made clear.
The ride to Kisumu is it’s usual hot dusty affair, however as a muzungu I must always make a decision. Since there is no air-conditioning, I can either burn my arm by opening the window, or sweat until my clothes are soaked. Typical of me, I tried both.
Finding Monica and KMET was an adventure in and of itself. It is tucked behind a main road, on a bumpy, rock infested stretch of dirt. We had to call Monica several times before we found it. However she told me she would come out to meet us and I told her she couldn’t miss me because I was a muzungu. She was astonished and thought I was Luo, which I took as a compliment. My Luo is much better than my Swahili.
What happened next was nothing short of a miracle. Monica began describing the programs they have in place including nutrition, and education as well as micro loans. I explained what we wanted to do and she and her board member, another Monica were quite enthused. I showed them the playpump (yes she has internet) and they loved it. They loved the idea of running a clinic on weekends, and using the schools on the months they are closed for training. They are the link I needed for us to get to where we are aiming. They have community organizers on the ground, nutritionists, and a whole bevy of essential people we need to make it. And best of all they are already there.
We agreed that I would go home and draw up a contract of what we would expect of them and how we would fund it, along with a history of One Village and they would make the necessary calls to get the ball rolling.
Francis dropped me off for the late flight at 4P so he could get home to Nairobi. I then waited 3 hours for the plane, but I was finally clear on what decisions I had to make. And today when I woke up I was able to write the letters that needed to be written: Mabunge shall be dropped, Manyole shall be on probation, and we shall start with Malanga.
It seems there are not as many miles now to go as I thought there were.


12 October 2009
It seems fitting that I wrap up with some observations on politics and tribal allegiances both here and in the U.S. Kenyans are, of course, mad for Obama. They warn that if he wins, the town of Kisumu will go wild, as indeed I think it will.
As a muzungu, I find I’m pretty invisible in some ways. Kenyans love to talk about politics and particularly now. As the white girl I don’t belong to any tribe, so anyone can put forth their ideas about the history of their government and how things have evolved, and they don’t have to worry about offending me. If a Kikuyu says a Luo is lazy or sneaky, it’s ok, I’m not Luo. If a Luya says that the Kikuyus have taken all the land and left them with nothing, I can listen I’m not Kikuyu.
Though the tribes agree on the fact that Kenyatta, Moi and Kibeki have been presidents of Kenya, they see each one’s rule quite differently. While all agree that any one from any tribe can go anywhere, under the surface lies fear and anger. Since the riots of last winter, each Kenyan knows what is possible in their country, though they don’t want to talk about it. I fear for that reason it may happen again.
I am glad I missed the worst week in financial history in the U.S. I would have felt powerless and out of sorts. However, as we face our own political contest, our tribes are beginning to show their stripes. We don’t have formal names exactly, but they exist and hatreds can be just as deep. I think the only difference is that we don’t use pangas to kill, but surely we cheat at the poles.
The Kenyan papers have been full of news about Obama and Pallin. (McCain seems to be of no interest here). I read that there was a gathering for McCain and Pallin and at some point someone yelled, “kill him!” referring to Obama. Didn’t they mean lynch? We have not come far at all when it comes to lynching and burning crosses, and excluding certain ethnic groups. We’re just a little more smug and hide it better, until someone yells “kill him” and those of us who lived through the 60’s remember all our leaders gone. I pray we don’t repeat that, but in my heart there is a small fear that someone could indeed kill him and we would repeat the past again.
I leave for the airport in a few hours. I shall be glad to get back to the U.S. I want to scrub myself, and eat food I know. I want to sleep in my new bed and cuddle with the cats, but I know whether I am here or in the U.S the future is indeed a truth not fully revealed.
Respectfully Submitted,
Susan B. Gross
Executive Director “One Village at a Time”

Miles to Go Before I sleep...


I've been really touched by the response of people here in the U.S to what we are doing in Kenya.A total stranger donated $50 to our cause, just because he did. And I just found out today that a local High School is trying to raise money for One Village. I am always a bit overwhelmed by people's generosity, but the really nice thing about One Village is that there is such an incredibly sweet spirit among all the people who work on it, that I truly shouldn't be surprised.

The photo is of the street leading to the hotel. The blue roof is the Blue York. You can see I always stay in the nicest places.

Part 3....

7 October 2008

Each time I come here I struggle to bring you with me. As much as there is despair, there is great hope. We drove to Malanga School today. Francis did a very good job of filming it for you to see. But what I can’t capture is the feeling when I look at the surging children running to shake my hand, touch my hair. At that moment I am theirs and they are mine and there is nothing that can describe that ineffable feeling.
We began at 11A with a cloudless sky and the day spread before us with limitless time. It is amazing how everything does get done in the course of the day. The children presented their songs, poems and plays. The Head of the School Committee was most gracious in introducing me and helping me when I could not understand the Swahili. The parents were the very best. They showed up in the heat, they listened, they are involved and understand what we are trying to do. The teachers and parents formed teams to work together to form cooperatives to present to KMet. The only problem is that I have not been able to contact Monica who is my contact with KMet. But I am optimistic.
There was the usual stomach lurching meal for muzungus. No matter how I try I cannot eat their food, it makes me queasy. I demur and say I don’t eat in the middle of the day and they are fine. The rains held off until we reached Busia at 4P. I don’t know whether it is tragic or fantastic that peanut butter crackers can taste so good, but they do and I am grateful I brought them.
Upon returning, my clothes and I took our usual shower. I was happy there was some warm water before the power went out. The rains have cut it and so I am sitting in the dark, listening to it bang on the roof and wonder what happens to dinner. Oh I know, more peanut butter crackers.

9 October 2008

I am basically totally wiped out, and I suspect headed for a case of either parasites or plain old dysentery. Yesterday I went to Mabunge and it was really pretty much a disaster. The school committee was missing and so were the parents. Now, they had 2 days to get the parents there and also they chose the time, so the fact that the muzungu could travel all these miles and get there and the parents couldn’t, did not sit well.

It was a real education to see the difference in the schools. Malanga is sublime, Mabunge is a swamp. I am glad that Charles was not here so I could see what the true participation is. The teachers weren’t even all present. So I told them they were on probation. I told them if they didn’t step up they would be dropped from the program at the end of the year. I realized that all this time Charles has not told them that I work for an NGO. So they just think that Mama Susan comes and brings money. I shamed them as well and told them that Malanga got more money because they worked harder, and that their loan would start at the first of the year. Unfortunately it didn’t seem to make much of a difference. They are so used to having a hand out that they don’t understand they must work for it. At this point, if we have to preserve money, I think they should be dropped.

Today we went to our third school, Manyole. As we bumped down the road to the school we saw the children fleeing in the opposite direction. Now, these children know me well, they are truly my favorite of the schools, but they were running towards the road. All at once Francis and I knew exactly what was happening, Miriam, the head teacher, had told them to go home and get their parents. So instead of my usual greeting, there were no parents, no school committee, and no head teacher to greet me. Total disarray abounded.

I found Miriam, who was angry with the parents. I told her I was too and that they would probably go on probation. Justus Obimba, the Head Master, came in and asked me to have tea. It was now one hour after I had arrived, and the tea is going to do me in. After one sip I knew there was something wrong, and after a few more I knew that they had used well water, and that by tomorrow I shall be in for it.

It was quite a hot one on the equator, and the clouds were not collecting for the afternoon rains. Inside the Head Master’s office was a sweat-inducing nightmare. And then there was the tea I didn’t drink…and the wait for the parents.

They finally showed up about 1 ½ hours after I arrived and 4 hours after they were supposed to arrive. There were no songs or dances by the children and the school committee was visibly shaken by the fact that I told them they might be dropped from the program. Justus heard me well and told the parents that. By noon I had about 60 parents so I decided to go through with gathering them into groups to decide on the projects that they might do for income generating as they call it here.

They had a good deal of difficulty with the questionnaire that Phillip Imboywa had written out in Swahili. Many of the adults had to rely on the children to read it to them and to write the answers. In the end we had some good groups who had banded together. There were no teachers, however, who wanted to help. That spoke volumes as well.

I finished my work with them by offering them the challenge of who could give the most per month and per term would win a prize. Ah, now they were interested. Many questions came up about how they could win the prize, but I was encouraged that parents who did not have children in Standard 8 or 7 were interested enough to say they wanted to contribute as well. So a fire was lit and we retired to the classrooms for the ever-present stewed chicken, rice, ugali greens and sodas. I could not, I just could not eat. It was so hot, and I just couldn’t choke it down. Thankfully Beatrice called me in the middle of the meal and I could leave to talk with her. That gave me the breather I needed to avoid the food.

I arrived back at my digs at 4P. I have changed rooms because of an interesting custom here. When someone dies, they have all night fundraisers to help the family with the costs of the burial. Oh and they go on for days. So last night the music blared until 3A M. Ha! Wouldn’t you know it they had power last night so that that racket could go on and on and on.

The greatest challenge has been to get in touch with Monica Oguttu of KMet the microfinance person. I called and called but she did not answer. Finally. Yesterday, we went to a cyber café. Ok, my children used these computers when they were in 4th grade: they are now 34 and 37. I assume I don’t need to elaborate on what happened next. Ah a dial up service, and it took forever for the page to load. My computer was out of electricity or I could have done it. Yeah, I love these black outs. Anyway 30 minutes later I got an email off and prayed Monica would get it. Bingo, 4 hours later she called, so we shall go to Kisumu tomorrow to meet her and then I shall go back to Nairobi on the late flight. There are still miles to go…

I'm in Love!

Ok, not with a guy, but the new PCP Wizard. Saw her yesterday, a far cry from the Witch. She's bright, well trained and totally nonplussed by what I do. Maybe that's because she's from Ghana and goes over at least once a year to teach. We almost forgot to take care of the physical and meds because of our excitement at talking to each other. I shared with her the idea of clinics in schools on the weekends and she loved it. It's almost like I can't wait to get sick so we can talk more, but I suspect there will be other opportunities. So I'm besotted with the idea of a PCP who is cool and gets me.

And now for the second installment of "Miles to go before I sleep..."

4 October 2008
The first full day here was rather humdrum. I suppose if you have never been to Nairobi then all the smells and sights, the burning in your eyes, the insane drivers cutting each other off, might feel exotic. For me, it is my other home. Prices have gone up here but other than that it’s Nairobi.
I decided to go to Masaai Market today to get the things for our auction. The government has moved the site of the market, and it seemed much smaller than before. Francis loves the market and is happy to look around and haggle. For me I tire of it quickly and like to shop with a goal. I don’t like being pulled and tugged, I hate the constant bargaining. I know it is all part of the deal, but I have been here so many times, I know what a fair price is and when they ask something so astronomical that I’m shocked, it depresses me. I come to them, in their clothes, my hair braided (yes that was the morning venture) and speaking their language. I guess the saying we have back home, just doesn’t apply here. “Honey I was born at night, just not last night”.
The market was successful and I got things that should do well in the auction. And then it was off to the Nakumatt for coffee. They don’t drink coffee here, but they sure grow some of the best in the world. Again, Francis takes the cart and is shocked when I go right to the coffee and tea aisle and load up and then want to check out. He is stunned, but then he remembers and laughs, “You are a woman of purpose, I forgot”. As we left the torrents of rain that should not be falling are pelting us. I love the feel of the soft warm wet, but Francis runs for the car. I stroll and he watches. Ah a crazy muzungu.
We returned unscathed and said goodbye. Francis will drive the Rift tomorrow; I will fly over it on Monday. He will bring a different driver for me to meet tomorrow and the new one will take me to KARI. I go tomorrow with such mixed emotions, only a few months ago, my friends were slaughtered. Only a few months ago I hear Beatrice’s panicked voice begging me to help her and the girls leave Kari. Mama June and her 2 daughters are dead. Evalyn shall never live there again. However, I suspect, as we gather to worship, we shall nod and be still and acknowledge what is past and then carry on. Africans are good at that.
It’s not that they don’t care or don’t feel. Their acceptance of a life that is impermanent and treacherous as well as joyous is fully lived. We Americans believe we control everything, but that is just not so. In my other job as therapist I listen to people bemoan their experience of the world, and I must help them see it is not the world that is ruining their life; it is their thinking and expectations about this planet that’s doing it.
And so I go early in the morning, wondering what I will find, happy and sad all at the same time. I will be at my home church with the choir singing, and the stillness of the land and the clouds.

Miles to go before I sleep...

I returned yesterday from 3 days of traveling. I don't mind the flights and waits, I just get into African mode and wait knowing at some point it will be over. Once home I became like a whirling dervish and opened mail, unpacked, made calls and watched the news. But most of all I took a long hot shower.

This morning I had to go get food, the cupboard was bare. It was weird driving; I missed Francis. As a matter of fact I guess I thought he would drive me to the store. It's hard to go between such divergent worlds. When I am in Kenya I am totally there and adopt as much of life as I can, and then I come home and have to get back into it. Sometimes I can see the edge of Kenya just in the corner of my eye.

I am going to post my journal over the next few days. It can say so much more than I can now. When I write over there it is urgent and present, now it is just a memory. I hope you like it.

2 October 2008

It has been difficult to get ready for this trip. I have only just realized that it has been more than a year since I have been home to Kenya. I don’t know what I will find and though I preach faith, it is hard to have it as much as I would like.
I shall return to KARI. Evalyn and I did not leave on good terms. She was quite angry with me when I left. It had to do with her project and my speaking the truth to some people. I frequently get in trouble because I am really bad at hiding my feelings or avoiding answering a question, which I probably don’t have to answer. However the elections came soon after my departure and everything changed. Evalyn no longer lives at KARI. They have moved into town because they were so terrified by the killings. She is still Pastor at my home church there, St. John’s. But it will be quite different. I shall not return to her home after church for lunch, and I don’t know how she will greet me.
Beatrice and Boaz and their girls will also be at church. Over the years we have become like sisters, and I have watched her girls grow into women. I am bringing them computers so that they can study the way they should be able to if they were being educated in the U.S. And I know we must help make these girls leaders as well. However there are no plans for after church, though I suspect I shall lunch with them.
That is not the only thing tearing at me, driving me to write at this early hour, still on the plane to Heathrow. It is my own self-doubt as to my ability to get the job done. It is mistrust, that for the first time, I feel for 2 of the schools. Maybe it is just the taste of a failure I fear I shall have. I go with charts and ideas, I know that my amazing board is making the contacts we need to get the pumps in place, and raise the money to keep going. I know that One Village has never been in better shape, but still..
I was listening to Stephen Armstrong on my iPod. He was discussing a particular chapter of Luke and he said folks who wondered what God wanted them to do always puzzled him. His response was a smack in the face. He said, “I tell people to go to a time when they really felt they understood what God wanted them to do and keep doing it until they heard different.” Pow! Yeah I haven’t heard anything different in a long time, so I’m guessing that I should shut up, be still and get on with it.
We land soon. I realize it is already 3 October, early early in the morning. And there are miles to go before I sleep.