Out of Africa

27 February 2010

I am preparing to leave Kenya. My bags are packed; the rumble of thunder can be heard above the crow of the cocks. The Amman is quiet for now and it is time to reflect.

Last night, as I thought about how far we have come; I was totally overwhelmed. From a failing feeding program in Siaya to a strong, community based program that includes feeding, nutrition, sex education, micro-finance and a strong partnership with and agency I cannot laud enough-KMET. We are the talk of Nambale and I suspect soon much of Nambale and Busia District.

Monica and I had time to talk about our impressions of the two days spent in Nambale. She is wise and spot on with her observations. The debriefing with the staff was organized, insightful and optimistic without glossing over the problems. I am excited about the partnership. Monica and I both agreed it is one thing to read a report and another to actually see what is going on. I do hope we can raise enough money for me to come back in 6 months.

There are so many things to recall; the women and Kwihirle dressing me in the green suit (which btw fits better than anything I have stateside) the children with ringworm, the vast horizon of clouds furling their plumes across the sky, the friendship that Francis and I have developed over these past 9 year. (Is it really 9 year??) It is watching Asuke work with grace as he teaches and encourages villagers to learn to save their money or plan a business. It is watching Maureen teach and the round mirth and laughter that emanates from her and always makes me smile. It is dirt roads so rutted that your head feels like it’s going to come off; it is more than I can ever share with you all.

What I really want you to know is how you can make a difference. Do not look at this blog as some amazing story; rather take away that every dollar makes a difference. $6 US will get a girl enough pads so that she can go to school. What is that these days a latte? $2 feeds a child a nutritious meal for 3 months. It’s not huge things; it’s pooling what we have and making a bigger splash. I could never do what I do without all the people who hold me up. I have a board any E.D would be green with envy to have. There is a group of volunteers who help raise the funds, who write the grants, who submit the forms to keep us afloat, who design the website and the list goes on. They are the ones I do it for as well as the women and children I serve here.

They are the Peacekeepers and though you may never meet them, know that they exist and they are making the world a better place.

And that is what I think about as I prepare for the next part of this journey. Thank you all for coming along.

There Will Be No Peeing till 6:OOP

26 February 2010

One of the phenomenons that one’s body must adjust to is that there is no peeing when you are a woman in the field. One has to be careful just how much fluid she takes, lest the need arise. There is simply no peeing or pooing during the day. There are no public toilets and the school toilets I’ve learned from. One simply does not want to expose her freenie to the elements, the flies, the mosquitoes, or the mud. I am amazed at how quickly my body adjusts to only peeing during the night.

Kwihirle is the smallest and farthest school of the 3. A woman who used to run Manyole heads it. The school is desolate, the children are running to school as we arrive at 10:30A. Despite being told we were coming, things appear to be in disarray. The buildings are sparser than any others; classrooms are divided for 2 classes. The lowest of the classes is taught in a hut made of sticks and cow dung.

The entire team arrives, Asuke, Musee (the driver of the van), Ken, Dan, Carol, Maureen, Monica, Francis and myself. We have come to do business. We want to check on the nutrition and take measurements of the children (Dan and Ken), we want to deworm all the children (Carol and Monica) we want to start the reproductive health program (Maureen) and see how the parents are faring with their microfinance (Asuke). It is no small undertaking KMET and OVAAT have undertaken and we are completely underwhelmed with what is going on.

The children receiving the porridge are receiving it in mugs that are used over and over again without any washing. The 5th grade math teacher is a drunkard and a thief and hangs around me wanting sweets and money. The parents look bewildered when Monica starts talking about our comprehensive program and parent cooperation. Muga (thank God) arrives to talk to the parents since Miriam seems totally overwhelmed. It seems that since she met with KMET in January and signed an MOU she has not met with the parents so they had no idea what the programs were or what we were doing.

The only ray of hope seems to be that the people are interested in the micro-finance. 


My heart sank as I had memories of Mabunge. However the team at KMET is more driven for this school to succeed than I could imagine. They seem to love a challenge and I suspect from seeing all they do, that success shall be snatched out of the jaws of defeat.

And so we head back to Kisumu. The rains surround us after the intense heat and the road become mud, the hail crashes, and the clouds clear. I suspect it is a good analogy for all that I do over here. I often come upon a storm and have no idea how I’m going to get through it, but it always clears up and my hope returns. And God said it was good.

Tomorrow I’m taking the day off. I can pee whenever I want and I’m even having a PB and J with some juice. Ah the luxury.

Another Day

Hot hot sweat hot, drip drip, deep wide brown eyes silent children, dust dirt sweat..laughter singing dancing..women old wrinkled, tall bundles on their heads, mama, red purple bright colors on the women..sit sit listen listen sometimes understand..wait wait..roads rutted with mud holes ..clouds sucking up the air..rain crashing on the car..noise noise.. cow dung for menstrual pads..girls waiting listening..parents hoping waiting..will they work with us? Keep going..another school..torn dresses.. dirty feet…mud mud clinging everywhere..pineapples sweet juice dripping..growing changing..hot hot sweat hot, Kenya my love.

There is no way to describe these last two days. I tried, but so much happens in the span of 48 hours that it is impossible to really take you to the schools.  Our partnership in the first 2 schools is going well. Children are being fed, parents are giving over 50%, cooperatives are working and checks were given out at both schools.

 KMET’s programs for the girls from grade 4-8 to help then understand their bodies is led by a merry bouncy woman with an infectious laugh and a confidence that makes me smile. Maureen takes on the tough challenge of teaching sex ed and also helping the girls talk about their menses.  Both Monica and I wretch when we hear what the girls use for menstrual pads.leaves..newspaper…cow dung shoved up their vagina’s and removed at night. The reusable pad will change their lives. Maureen shows them what it looks like and how to use it. The girls are amazed at the pad and all want it. We shall have to get sponsors for the girls. They need the pads, or they miss school and fall behind. How will I get that done? Who will even believe this?

Maureen teaching

Ken and Dan, tall quiet men, patient yet thorough line the children up to take their weights and BMI’s. Then they dewormed all the children. As Monica says it does no good to feed the children if we’re really feeding the worms. They then lecture the parents on nutrition and work with the folks with AIDS to help them understand the importance of the nutri-flour that we have brought.

Asuke takes another group and works with the micro-finance. He is a skinny giant whose smile breaks like the sun after the rain. You fall in love instantly. He is patient and thorough and I see the pride in the people’s face as they hand over their passbooks to be stamped or to receive a small loan. Manyole and Malanga are both doing outstanding work on the microfinance side of things.

We are rained on at the second school. The skies open and we are pelted as we run for cover. the din on the tin roof is spectacular. I do love a good storm. Undaunted,  Maureen got her entire lecture in at a nearby church and the Lioness of Malanga led the micro-finance group off to Asuke. I make an incredibly bad decision and decide to walk from the school to the church after the rain. Wow that was some nasty mud and there was just no getting it off. I thank God for small miracles I didn’t slip in it and settle down to listen.

One of the truly incredible things about African children is their ability to wait and to amuse themselves. After each step, Maureen ducks behind a bench and asks the children to sing. Without missing a beat one girl picks up the call and the others respond singing in a harmonious sweet song that always touches me in the deepest part of my being. So often Americans want to give me toys for the children over here. These loving creatures, who hold hands on the playground (with no equipment) who carry small ones on their backs and never never have I seen a fight break out at the schools. This, dear reader, I suspect you think is an overstatement, but it is not. You shall just have to either take my word or come over here and meet them.

We stumble back to the hotel tired, dirty, happy, optimistic and ready for the third school the next day. Kwihirle is next on the docket.

I must stop here, though. It is time to enjoy this moment. I have been sitting out on the patio of my hotel.  The rains have cleared, the air is sweet, the peepers are peeping, and the rooster crows, and the prayers can be heard from a nearby Mosque.

Swahili reggae is playing over yonder, and it is all good.

Keep the faith y’all.

Sisters on a Journey

23 February 2010

The statistics coming out of the meeting at KMET were staggering. What a difference it makes to have people on the ground who are committed to what they and we are doing. Never before have we had hard numbers as to what is going on in the schools.

It is not enough to feed a child if they have no future. If they are malnourished or have worms, the food does little good. If the girls drop out of school one week a month because of their period, they fall behind and eventually drop out. If a widow cannot take feed her children, if she cannot feel some sense of pride and certainty that there is a future for her children we are only donors doing more harm than good.

The presentation today was both thorough. Many different approaches are done at the same time. So KMET helps change the nutrition of the children, but they send out a nurse to check their weight and body mass. They examine the children for worms. They help the women do micro-finance. Today I saw a widow who was making liquid soap and using the plastic water bottles people throw away. Not only is she making a living for herself, but also she’s recycling at the same time.

KMET makes an enriched porridge which is has flax, peanuts, soy and other essentials to combat malnourishment. They have gotten the parents in all 3 schools to cost share the porridge for grades K-4. That means that the youngest and most vulnerable shall be fed first. Grades 5-7 cost share as well and grade 8 which before got the food first is now supported by the parents entirely! Go KMET!!

Further they have done an analysis of Kwihirle our newest and smallest school. The children have been weighed, tested and documented. And here’s where the statistics are overwhelming.

Kindergarten

4% kids were severely malnourished

8% malnourished

14.7% had ringworm

2.3% had no meal a day

5.3% of children had one a day

First Grade

3.2% severe malnourish

29.6%malnourish

23% had ringworm

1.6% no meal

4.7% one meal

Second Grade

10% malnourished

35.9% had ringworm

2.6% no meal

7.7% one meal

It doesn’t get better as we go up the grades. So we hope to when we go out to the schools among other things we do is to deworm the kids. It doesn’t do any good to feed them if they are really feeding the worms. The other two schools will be evaluated next term.

Our Micro-Finance is off to a good start. It is wonderful to hear how carefully they have thought out both the way the financing shall be done and to whom. For example they pull together 5 women into a cell. They will give out a loan to 2 of them and the other 3 shall have to wait till the 2 have paid back their loan. That puts community pressure on the 2 and encourages the other 3 to help them. When we go out tomorrow we shall be giving out some of the checks to the cells. Malanga has 17 cells and Manyole 5. Asuke and John are our community workers and they will be joining us to go over the accounts and evaluate new projects. What a difference a year makes.

The concerns for reproductive health are manifest in so many ways with KMET and now in our schools. KMET girls who have dropped out of school are now making reusable sanitary pads. The sewing machines that sat idly at our schools are now all in use with the girls at KMET. Not only have they solved the problem of girls missing school, they are making eco-friendly pads and helping young women achieve self-sustainability.

Monica and I have found an easy pace and a quiet respect and understanding of each other. It is as if I have found a missing piece of me which makes whole, We work together with grace and laughter. We share our dreams and try to make it come true for the other. It is an extraordinary relationship. We are sisters on a journey grateful for each other.

It's Not Nice to Fool Mother Nature

21 Feb 2010

Dear readers, I hope I am not so old that you don’t remember this advertising slogan. But perhaps you are, it doesn’t really matter.  Today’s entry is just so delicious that you will get the humor one way or another.

It dawned cold and dreary in Nairobi. Because I was situated in downtown I could forage for some lunch materials. I had wanted to order the delicious box lunches that the Hilton offered, but oh, the phone in my room didn’t work, and then they needed 8 hours notice…so I went to the chicken palace and got some Kenyan fried chicken.  Then I waded through dozens of men trying to get me to use their cabs or safaris. The nice thing is that I speak enough Swahili that they pretty much get it right off the bat. On to Tusky’s for chips, water, and some sweets and I was good to go.

Francis indeed has a new car and it even has air-conditioning! He picked me up and we loaded up my gynormous suitcases and other accoutrements and off we went. It is beyond any words to describe the drive across the Rift.  I posted a photo, but that doesn’t really do it. The day was glorious, cool most of the time, the scenery intriguing and varied enough for it never to be dull. We passed the city limits, the Rift, then zebras grazing alongside the road and one lone baboon sitting watching the traffic go by.

Francis and I are such good friends and I rely on him so much, I was dying to ask him a question about a strange phone call I had had that morning. Maloba of the Malanga School had called me a couple of times. Here in Kenya people call each other for a purpose, not to pass the time of day. So when the second one came I asked him if he had something on his mind, no he was just confirming when we were coming to Nambale. I asked Francis what he thought. Francis offered that it might be like the President visiting a province. people get all dressed up and put on a good show and then got back to business as usual. Ah what a gem Francis is.

We arrived in Kisumu just before the rainstorms over Lake Victoria. After I had checked into the hotel, I called Monica. Once we had dispensed with the important greetings I asked her what she thought about the phone call from Maloba. She laughed and said that she didn’t want them to know when we were coming to the school. She wanted to see how the schools were really run when they didn’t know we were coming. Oh isn’t that just delicious! I agreed wholeheartedly and then felt bad that I had blown the cover by intimating that we were coming on Wednesday. But two can play at this game. So I called Maloba back and told him I didn’t know when we were coming, that Monica was still working on the schedule and that we would let him know…we would be there sometime this week.

It is good to be home. It is good to have a sister who thinks the way I do. It never pays to try and fool Mother Nature.

Anyone for Some Kool Aid

“I have a dream,” he thundered out across the tapestry of humans surrounding the monument. I remember that day in 1963, holding my daddy’s hand as we listened to him. I remember the heat, the energy ,the optimism, and also despair. I drank the Kool Aid. I believed that it would happen for my generation. Perhaps it has to some extent, Michelle Obama is the new definition of beautiful for a generation of girls, and indeed Obama, while he may not see a second term is surely progress. I thought with the colonialists out of Africa racial bigotry and hatred would disappear. That was a whole pitcher of Kool Aid.

I am now in my third day here in Kenya. I have been listening mostly. It’s like the wise old owl my grandmother taught me. “The less he spoke the more he heard”, and so I listen to both black and white women these last couple days. The black women complain about their husbands and how little they do around the house. Sort of like how it was back in the 50’s, before we started burning our bras. I don’t think a sexual revolution is going to happen here any time soon.

The most poignant, though, was a white friend of mine who moved to Nairobi 2 years ago. She picked me up at the hotel and we left the city to go have lunch. She has always belonged to Africa and to their women and children. She is all that one of my generation would have wished a woman could be. Bright, independent, gentle, strong, curious, and human in her frailties, she now treads on difficult terrain. She is pregnant and is marrying a Luya man. She works hard at her job, as does her husband. She described the difficulty of finding a nanny. They interviewed one who came from Central Kenya and when the nanny found out that the father was Luya she refused to take the job. She spoke of trying to find a new place to live that would be safe enough and convenient enough for both she and her husband to travel to work. The traffic is one thing, but the robberies and car jacking are truly frightening especially now that she shall soon be a mother.

As we sat in the garden of the restaurant talking about politics, Obama, and Kenya, my young friend talked about the difficulties here. The bigotry and hatred, which I have always felt, are palpable. She confirmed it. Last week, the Prime Minister dismissed two governmental ministers who were being tried for corruption. He put them on a leave of absence, but the President (from another tribe) overruled the decision and the ministers are back on the job. It is just as it was before the election: Luos against Kikuyus and the cities shall burn again when elections come round again. “Power sharing” solved nothing; it is a total sham.

She spoke of Niger, another country she has lived in, in her young life. Two days ago there was a coup, but no bloodshed. She has been in touch with her friends there and things are carrying on as usual there. She said that one of the bad things about freedom of the press in Kenya is that people feed on it and politics is so important on a personal level that every official is known for his tribe, his history, his indiscretions, and folks can rattle it off like 12 year old boys rattle off the statistics of their favorite baseball teams. It serves to fuel the festering fires of ethnocentrism.

What is missing here is national pride, a sense of national identity. It simply doesn’t exist, it’s all tribal all the time. Tanzania was able to turn their people around. Tanzanians are just that, and there is a sense of commonality despite their tribal origins. We wonder how they did that. Neither she nor I are students enough of African history to know how that came to pass, but marvel at the idea of it.

My friend and I sigh. There are further invidious insults that abound, corruption by most officials, special traffic laws that cops lay on whites, especially white women. We call it the skin tax, laugh and drink our bottled water. We know…she and her family will come home when the next elections come…and they shall return when the violence is over. Over here they don’t serve Kool Aid.

It's a Puzzlement

It’s a Puzzlement

Long ago, when I was a child, a movie came out called The King and I. Yul Brenner played the King and he sang a song called “It’s a Puzzlement” as he is trying to figure out western customs. I often feel the same way when my friends or clients ask me about my trip. The fact of the matter is I don’t know how it will work. I never know if the roads will be in any condition to drive on, whether people will be where I think they will be, and surely I wonder if anyone understands me when I speak, even when I use Kenyan English.

I am fairly sure of the trip to Nambale and meeting with the schools. I do know that Monica Oguttu is in Ethiopia right now and she should be able to make it back in time for Monday morning. I don’t know if Francis has a new car. I’m rooting for that one, since dear readers; if you have followed this blog you know that Francis and his car are a bit dicey. Brett came over last night and chuckled and wished me good luck on the car ride. He had the back seat in Francis’ car, when we went in June. Even his young 30 yr old body was a bit creaky by the time we finished. But it’s ok, better living through chemistry if you get my drift.

The thing that’s really up in the air is my junket through the Sudan to get the Congolese girls. I’m supposed to be meeting some people in Nairobi when I get to the hotel and go over the plans, but I haven’t heard from them. It’s not that I won’t hear from them, it’s just the when that will be a nail biter. Then there’s the whole deal folks have of asking me if I’m taking these kids like the folks in Haiti did. Do they have parents? Since people in the U.S don’t keep up with the workings of the Eastern part of the Congo, I suppose I could forgive them, but really, I’m not into an African jail. These girls can attest to their parents demise since they actually got to watch them get killed by the soldiers before they (the girls) got raped and left for dead. They live in the shadows, hoping not to be raped, yet having to sell themselves to stay alive. They are 14-16 and are already seasoned in the oldest trade, but they must be taken out because they would be sold in Africa if they crossed the border without a passport and a visa. So no I’m not stealing them people, I’m just trying to get a few to a better life (and I can only hope that is so) and bring them to safety. Oh, and I’d like to stay safe as well.

It is my faith that leads me and carries me. Again for so many people they are puzzled by faith and think I’m a very religious person. Not really, I often forget to say grace, I don’t believe that my God is better or different than any other, I don’t want to change their ideas, I just believe that I am cared for by a loving force. And so I begin. The plane is boarding soon. It shall be till Thursday night before I land in Nairobi. Each time I return to my African homeland, my heart starts to skip a beat. Each time is new; each time it all works; each time He is in charge. So for me it’s not puzzlement, it’s how things are.

Keep the faith y’all

Decisions

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.

If you are not reading this on our website, please visit us and see what we are doing.

www.onevillageatatime.org