A Few of My Favorite Things

While sitting in the dentist chair waiting for my mouth to numb up, my dentist asked about how things were going in Kenya. We often have delightful conversations, with me drooling or slurping, about books and the difficulties of medicine over there. He’s not much of a fiction reader, but I did get him to read the “Poisonwood Bible”

(Barbara Kingsolver). However the conversation turned to things that we needed in the field. Namely sphygmometers and speculums. These are two of my favorite things right now. So Dr. D starts telling me that I can get them cheap on ebay.

Before I know it, after he’s drilled a hole in the bone of my upper jaw, we’re taking x-rays and surfing the net. He gets right down to business and sure enough you can get sphygmomanometers for a song on eBay.

want to know the rest of the story...go to www.onevillageatatime.org/blog

Bearing Witness

I have no catchy title for this. I have no cool photos. This is just something you need to know about, and it’s neither pretty nor unusual in poverty stricken countries. When I started One Village back in 2002, I saw some pretty gruesome medical conditions and visited several “clinics”. A matatu hit a child while I was standing by, and she died in my arms for lack of an emergency vehicle. It had never dawned on me back then, that whole areas of countries would have no emergency transport and that whoever had a car often got called upon as the transport.

This entry needed it’s own special spot and I wasn’t prepared to write it till I had let it all settle within me. Monica had asked me to go with her to the provincial hospital to visit one of the community workers who was in hospital. How bad could that be, after all it’s the provincial hospital? As bad as the open-air clinics were in Siaya, nothing prepared me for this.

want to know more? www.onevillageatatime.org/blog

Daniel

I want to do this story justice, but like all of my experiences in Africa, I shall never be able to give you the true essence of the man, or of my admiration and love for him.

I first met Daniel 9 years ago. Shy and subdued, there was a veiled passion for knowledge that simmered below the surface. He was the eldest of 4; his mother was the first minister I worked with in Kenya. Daniel was in college in Uganda, but it was a struggle. His father had left the family for a new wife, but would come home from time to time demanding money and support.  An abusive, alcoholic, Daniel would watch what his father would do to his mother and try his best to protect everyone.

want to read the rest? go to www.onevillageatatime.org/blog. It's well worth the trip over

Where My Heart Lives

3 February 2011

Sometimes people retell a joke and it goes flat. Then they say, “you had to be there”. I will try my best to bring you here, but I suspect I may fall flat. To be here in Nambale is to be at the heart of the real Africa. Many dream of Africa, but it is the Meryl Streep Africa. Or they live their lives planning the big Safari. They are picked up in big vans and escorted to the game reserves. They make a stop at a “real local artist shop” where everything is sanitized. And they go on their way satisfied that they have been to Africa.

My Africa is loud and dusty. My Africa is unpredictable and far from comfortable much of the time. It is lack of electricity and cold showers in Busia, and swerving not to hit a pig running across the road. It is hot and dirty and beautiful beyond description. The most important part of my Africa is the people. If you will not dare to get dirty or go in a foul smelling latrine, you will never meet them. But if you are willing their heart and spirit will amaze you.

Today we journeyed to our first stop, Malanga Primary. This is the home of the Iron Lady, a woman who has taken the idea of micro-finance to an entirely new level. A woman who, when she couldn’t get the men to pay back their loans got a debt collector to see that they did. Her name is Benta and later you can see her on film. It is the home of hundreds of children dressed in green uniforms lining up to sing and welcome me home. It is parents who want to reach for the stars and have just begun to believe maybe they can.

The team from KMET is beyond words. I have never seen such teamwork, such incredible respect for one another and such passion for what they are doing. Yet, they are never satisfied with their day until they debrief and figure out how it could have gone better. Monica is their lioness who encourages the parents to own the program. She talks to them like a stern mother. Then it’s my turn to talk about their growing up and how they can achieve that. I’m a bit softer, but still pretty tough. Malanga has till the end of this year to be on their feet. Giant, gentle Asuke, with a smile as big as the stars in an African sky, takes care of microfinance and in Malanga there is a 100% repayment.

The Girls Getting their Pads

While we are in front of the parents, another part of the team is working with the children. Ken is in charge of nutrition and statistics for the children. He weighs and measures all the children from kindergarten through 4^th grade. Sam is deworming all the children, for it does no good to feed the worms instead of the children. Beatrice is working on community-based health care and 2 girls who have graduated from the KMET program are now teaching the 7^th and 8^th grade girls about their periods and the reusable sanitary towels.

Sam Deworming the Children

Efficient, gentle, thoughtful, passionate, ingenious, the KMET team is all of that and I am so honored that we can partner with them. Sam noted we needed to de-worm earlier in the morning, Ken was trying to figure out how to follow the children better, Beatrice talked about more meetings with the parents to sensitize them, and on and on. And all of this took about 2 ½ hours.

Monica Congratulation the Young Boy

At the end of the visit, the headmaster brought before us a boy. Both his parents were dead and he had no place to live. It turns out, though that he scored second highest in the secondary exams and was offered a spot at a National school. Unfortunately he could not take that seat since he had no possible way of paying the fees. The teachers had taken up a collection and I knew what was coming next. He needed 6000ksh ($80) to cover his fees. And yes they asked me for the rest. However I have been so inculcated into the KMET way of doing things I adjured to Monica. She asked the parents to give (Harambee is a joyful party to raise money for the needy) and I told the parents we would match them dollar for dollar. The parents somehow raised 7000ksh, and we matched them and a bit more so that his entire year is covered. What is most important in my Africa is this simple gesture of people who are so poor they don’t know where the next meal is coming from, but they rose to the challenge and gave all they had.

One of the Shops From the Micro Finance

They don’t work at the fancy shops and hotels. The pretty much have never left Nambale. Their shops are tiny corrugated tin boxes with a few supplies, or a dress shop with treadle sewing machines, but their successes are all the sweeter because they got a loan, and made it work.

At Manyole the parents had been waiting under the Kenyan sun since early in the morning. Hard to fathom this kind of commitment, but they wanted to say thank you to Mama OVAAT who had supported them. So despite the heat, the dust, the lack of water and the sheer boredom of sitting, there they were singing and clapping as we arrived. The hugs I got from some of the elderly women were so deep and wide and heartfelt that I was a bit overcome. I’m always a bit embarrassed by all this show of appreciation, since frankly 1. I don’t really think I do much and 2. For me anything that happens is always by the grace of God. I never want to forget that.

The rest of the day is a bit of a blur. I have been working for 14 hours now and the sun is tough on this muzungu skin. I couldn’t be happier. It’s another day where life is good, yeah again. It’s just all-good.

Save a Life Please!

1 February 2011

Just like old times

I love children. It has been a while since I have worked with little ones. The babies at KMET were a delight. It was very difficult for them to tolerate a white face. At 9 months they don’t notice but by 16 months (right on time for stranger danger) they let out a howl. It didn’t matter a bit to me. I knew I could get them playing and interested.

There is no teaching for early childhood education. The 2 women who watch the little ones while the mothers (all young girls) continue their education at the center, have no training.  So this morning this crazy muzungu with her bucket of tricks arrives. (It was really a giant tub for water play). Quickly it was filled up and pans and spoons and cups were put in and blammo they were hooked. The tiniest ones got their own pots, but the 2 yr olds circled around and played until they were worn out.

There’s a really sharp little one named Audrey who clearly should be the leader in the classroom. That girl figured out how to pour from one cup to another, how to help another kid fill up his and then when I handed her a puzzle she kept at it till she got it right.

Audrey the Dynamo

The best part of this was teaching the teachers what to look for, how to develop creativity, and their realizing that creativity leads to better decisions and problem solving. Their eyes were aglow as they began to see things in the kids they didn’t know were there. They were hungry for more and more information. Zones for the classroom, what to do with a sand table, reading to the children before nap, they are delighted to do it and feel they are accomplishing something. How I wish I could stay for weeks and teach this to the ECD classes (Early Childhood Development). If only I didn’t have to work to pay for the OVAAT thing, I would be here for months at a time.

In the afternoon Monica and I visited the provincial hospital. It’s a death hole. People lie on filthy beds with I.V’s dripping from re-used bottles. There are no sheets on the beds and there are 10 people in a room. Flies buzz about and family members must take care of the sick. You cannot imagine it, and I could not photograph it for you. But in this great big world, with all we have this is wrong. It’s just wrong.  And then I had to remind myself I was only a raindrop. I couldn’t take on all the different problems I would have liked to solve. I guess I have to leave some for someone else.

But truly  people you need to donate to us to help KMET. Buy a tee shirt or just send us $10. Every penny is used for the programs. I get no salary and the Board works for free too. And so much can be done with so little. So let’s get going. Give what you can and save a life.
www.onevillageatatime.org. You can hit the donate button or go to Tiny Revolutionary to buy one of these tee shirts.

Joy Joy on the Range!

31 January 2011

I forget how huge the sky is here. Francis and I left on a beautiful morning, today. It was dry and just about the perfect temperature. Once we wangled out of the city traffic the sky and clouds spread before us for miles. We climbed the rift and down into Masaai territory where I always stop to pick something up.  Francis tries to warn the hawkers that this is a Kenyan muzungu, no regular white girl. They don’t believe it until we start to bargain and then they know. And we leave, all of us satisfied, but it was a struggle.

Now that the verdant tea farms stretch before me, the baboons on the side of the road, followed by the cattle, my heart begins to soar. I am home, I am home.  You cannot know, dear reader, what this feels like. It is like melting into the vastness of the country and being part of it. What others find shocking I find the norm. I can honestly say some things have changed. The road from Kakamega can be traveled. There was a time when Francis wouldn’t drive me through the Rift and surely not at night. I smile as I see men herding cattle with sticks at the side of the road as they have done for thousands of years. But I am in an air-conditioned car and all of it feels right.

The peeing thing continues to be a problem for women traveling long distances. At one point Francis got out to “dampen the dust” as they say here. We had been on the road for 5 hours. Alas there was no place for me to do the same and it was a long hour and a half till we got to KMET.

The real joy started the moment I saw my Dada (sister). We talked of what we wanted to accomplish this trip. I told her how happy I was to be able to work with the little ones and train their teachers. Ah how I love little ones and their sense of wonder. I can scarcely wait to show everyone what that looks like. Here obedience is valued above creativity. But I told Monica if they don’t start encouraging creativity, they will not get the future problem solvers they are going to need to envision a new Kenya.

I handed over the 2 full suitcases of medications and realized that it literally doubled the capacity of the clinic. Amazing! And then Monica encouraged me to go to my hotel and rest. She thought I must be tired, she still has a bit to learn about me.

Francis and I made a beeline to the Nakumatt where I picked up the required coffee that I bring back, but most of all for me to get supplies for the new nursery school I would start tomorrow. I went through the shelves imagining what they could do with each item. I have a commitment from Monica that the carpenter will build a sand table and I got a huge plastic container that will serve as the water table. Tomorrow you can see the photos; I suspect they will be enough for you to see.

So now I sit on the terrace of the Savanna. The Oman has finished the evening prayers somewhere in the distance and best best of all; I got in touch with Daniel. I have known Daniel for 10 years. I have watched him grow to manhood, though even as a young college student he had the wisdom of men 3 times his age. I have missed him. I love talking current events with him. He is bureau chief of the Nation, but he is in town for a couple of days. If ever there was someone to give me a good evaluation of what the Egypt up rise will mean here in East Africa it is Daniel.  My mind wanders back about 6 or 7 years ago when Daniel tried to get an Internet Newspaper linking schools in Rwanda, Uganda and Kenya.  At that time Internet was too new here and social media had not started. You can imagine how much I await Daniel’s coming and listening to all he has to say.

I am so alive here. And I am so glad to be alive. So for me right now, it’s all good.