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…