Mother Madrigal Speaks Out

Vigilante Justice for Teachers

2012-01-05T07:04:00.000-08:00

From time to time people ask me about the schools in Kenya. They wonder mostly about things like computers and assume that because the schools we work in are so poor the kids probably don't learn much. Nothing could be farther from the truth. I, frankly, find that the kids know more in more languages than our kids of the same age do.

In November the National Exams take place for 8th graders. These are the most important exams the kids will take until they graduate secondary school. They are called the KPCE's and the marks will be the ticket to a good school, a national school, or not. Parents, who often don't have much to do with the schools until the exams, worry greatly about the exams and the results can be tragic to say the least.

This year a couple of young girls committed suicide because of their marks, and today I read that a headmaster killed himself because of the poor showing of the children in his school.
But instead of my describing it, here's the article from the Nation.

By Nation Team Newsdesk@ke.nationmedia.com
Posted Wednesday, January 4 2012 at 22:00

IN SUMMARY

One headteacher commits suicide and others have been assaulted and run out of school as angry parents vent their anger over poor examination results
Parents protesting against their children’s poor performance in last year’s exam take out their anger on school heads, roughing them up and locking them out of institutions

A headteacher committed suicide and scores of others were roughed up by irate parents protesting against poor results in last year’s KCPE examination.

One school head was badly injured, another was dragged out of his office and warned never to set foot in the school.

Six others were locked out of their offices by angry parents as the new school term started.

In a number of schools across the country, headteachers just went into hiding, fearing attacks from parents after their schools performed poorly, raising serious questions about the safety of teachers and school administrators.

Results cancelled

Police in Narok County confirmed that the headteacher of Kalyet Primary School in Mulot Division, Mr Geoffrey Kiplang’at Sigei, had taken his life after the school’s results were cancelled by the Kenya National Examinations Council over irregularities.

Mr Sigei’s body was found by relatives in a tea plantation in Bureti District on Tuesday.

Before he committed suicide, the headteacher had gone into hiding after learning that all his 38 candidates had failed to obtain their results since their English and Kiswahili scores were cancelled, said Bureti police boss Smollets Munyianzi.

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He initially sought refuge at a relative’s home and then said he was going to visit a friend on New Year’s day, never to be seen alive again, according to the police boss.

The family started looking for the teacher from the time he left the relative’s home until Tuesday, when his brother, Mr Joseph Sigei, reported the matter to Litein Police Station.

“His wife called relatives wondering why the teacher was not communicating to them. It was then that the family started searching for the teacher, only for his mother to find his body in the tea bushes,” said Mr Munyianzi.

The body was taken to Kapkatet District Hospital mortuary for a postmortem examination.

Lemony Snickets

2011-12-20T09:03:00.000-08:00

The blogosphere did indeed go blank from Mama OVAAT for a few weeks. It in no way should reflect the success of the trip. Frankly I’m over the moon over how we are doing. That Sunday, Monica and I went to church and then sat under the trees by Lake Victoria and talked about the way forward. It was a delicious day of friendship and love between 2 kindred spirits who “dream dreams” as Bobby Kennedy would say.

Monday dawned bright and beautiful for our ride back across the Rift. Francis and I drove to KMET for one last visit and thus ensued the “Series of Unfortunate Events”.
Yes fans, I managed to break my leg on the last day, and of course there was no adequate medical care. My fabulous Medical Rescue Card got me nothing and there were no working x-ray machines at Nairobi Hospital. Which was probably ok since I doubt they had a tech anyway.

Determined to get on that plane, we got to the airport, I got a wheel chair and thus began the long, long ride home. 2.5 days travel with an unset broken leg is a bit of a challenge, but I did get home, get it set, and still wound up in the hospital with the creepy crawlies. Then a fall down my stairs a week later got me 16 stitches in my head. That’s what I mean by a series of unfortunate events.

Ok, but here’s the deal. What we are doing in Kenya defies the odds. We are going to run this program for under $30,000. I so want people to know that with the right partners and working with communities to own their programs you can change attitudes and lives. (Y’all know how I feel about the big guys. ) And I can’t wait to get back there.

And the second deal is not to be afraid. Do what your heartsong is. I am 65 years old and I love my work over there. Despite “the series of unfortunate events” I wouldn’t give up one single second of life over there and here. And I wish that more people stepped out of the fear of not being a success, or of getting hurt, or of the unknown, or what people might think and go for it. As my grandmother used to say, “Life is short, eat dessert first”. So go for it with everything you’ve got and believe you can. You’re neither too young or too old, it’s your time. Now get up and do it.

Even My Dirt is Covered in Dirt

2011-12-17T09:01:00.000-08:00

15 November 2011
I So Dirty My Dirt is Covered in Dirt
Yeah and I’m a crispy critter too. So much for SPF 30, there’s no fighting the Kenyan sun. You only have to be out in it 15 minutes to fry, so I will be a dermatological dream again.
I am constantly telling my clients that they must surrender ego, that it is always up to the universe to make things happen. Old ego and I had a real smack down today. We were supposed to get to Malanga at 11A, then it was changed to noon, but we didn’t get there until 2P. That made me crazy since I, of course, was on time. But it turns out the KMET van broke down, Monica didn’t really know her way and wasn’t traveling with us and well it’s Kenya. By the tie we got there folks had been sitting waiting since 8A. And to make things worse the headteacher, Maloba, had told the new school we would be there by 11A. So we were pissing people off all over the place. We had to apologize at Malanga, then we had to split up so some of us could go and placate the new schools while the others worked out the exit plan at Malanga. Suffice it to say ego did not like where this was heading. Ego likes things organized, ego anticipates problems and leaves time for them, and ego was really snarky.
I went to the new school ,Nangina. By that time it was 3P and they had been waiting 6 hours. I felt terrible and apologized as best I could but they were still not having it.
So I got Francis to go to the car and get a bag of sweets that I always carry for the kids. In this case I needed to sweeten the mood of the parents and passed out the lollipops. I had to make a joke of it and they seemed a bit better.
But you know you’re in trouble when there are no speeches and few introductions. And the dancing girls were no where to be seen. The KMET team was first up and gave their schpiele for the first 30 minutes. We covered micro-finance, nutrition and partnership. We were missing a lot of the team cuz they were back at Malanga.
And then it was Mama OVAAT time. And something miraculous happened, it wasn’t’ about me anymore. It was about them. It was about building a team, a partnership. It was about telling them how much I believed in them and that with a little push they could make it on their own. I asked them if they would join our team, team Nangina and they said YES!! And then the old cheerleader or preacher in me broke out and I got them chanting yes we can and passed out faith bracelets to everyone of them so they could identify as members of the team and they were united and it was glorious and it was all about God not that dirty little ego. It was truly amazing grace.
We broke for a quick lunch (which I always avoid). I’ve gotten so good at it I take out my diabetic kit and prick my finger at the table, then shake my head and say sorry the number is not right for me to eat that. (trust me I don’t care whether it’s 80 or 180 it’s “never right”). So after a few handfuls of rice I want to see the children. The children breathe life back into me as surely as water lifts a marathon runner. Maybe it is runner’s high.
We finished at 5P and went to the lovely Blue York. Dinner and review of the day followed by no internet and very little electricity. No matter, since I’m so dirty I’m totally ok with washing with cold water. I didn’t have a choice really,
What always continues to amaze me is the teamwork that happens with the KMET crew. As I reflect on the day, and I see how they work as a team, reflect on the good and the bad and plan the next day I know I am with a group of remarkable people. Everyone is equal and respected and while sometimes it is not the most efficient process, their staff is dedicated, inventive, and a delight to work with.
So I end the night in grace and for that I am grateful. I’ll post this when I can.
Keep the faith y’all

The Rift

2011-12-17T08:49:00.001-08:00

13 November 2011

Today we drive the Great Rift Valley. I don’t remember when exactly I started driving the Rift instead of flying. Probably when I smartened up and realized that a. it was much cheaper and b. it brings me to my heart home as I travel the different climes that are the Rift. First we hit a crest and look down on the long fertile valley, then we pass through miles of tea and coffee plantations, and then into the orange roads that signal the small towns teeming with people, farm animals roaming the streets and mounds and mounds of produce. Potatoes stacked in pyramids, onions, tomatoes. As we move further on we get to the villagers carrying great stalks of banannas and finally pineapples. Poverty abounds, naked children playing in the dirt, tall regal women with huge loads of sticks or water in jerry cans atop their heads, and everyone is walking by the side of the road.

Once in a while we see a private car like our own. But mostly it is the lorries and crazy matatu drivers (these are Toyota fans which are supposed to seat 9 but are often crammed with as many as 20 in them). The matatus are usually the culprits in the horrendous vehicle deaths that run rampant on the roads. A couple of weeks ago 25 people were killed because a Matatu tried to outrun a lorry and didn’t make it. I used to drive in those when I first started here; but even I gave up as they were so incredibly dangerous. Sometimes you see a boda boda (bike carrying someone for money). Life can be very cheap here and it is taken for granted that road deaths occur regularly. I don’t ride boda bodas either.

I am anxious to get going. Francis shall be here fairly soon given the traffic and what he has to attend to at home. I will film some of the Rift and post it for you.

rift click to see the film

I have officially been spooked by the security. I have checked out and had 3 bags. I left my black briefcase on the couch in the lobby while I went to the loo. It was scooped up immediately. Then,I got questioned by the guard as to whether it was mine. And since Francis is late, I decided to go to the ATM to get some cash. Again, I was questioned by 2 guards about my walkabout. And then another at the bank and then I was frisked to get back into the hotel. Yeah, who says they’re not worried?

Catch you in Kisumu

It was a glorious though bumpy ride to Kisumu. I have attached some un-edited film of our ride. We go from the very arid rift where the Masaii tend their cattle to the vast tea plantations in the valley and along the way meet some interesting fauna.

How Things Work..or Not

2011-11-30T12:06:00.000-08:00

11 November 2011

I have entered into the amorphous part of travel. I have no idea what time it is. By my calculations I have been traveling for over 24 hours, but I still have a 13-hour flight to Kenya. Security is tight here in Amsterdam with a second screening. The strange thing about my traveling is that I enter into this zone of peace, which carries me through to the end. I have audio books and kindle and movies of my own and so however long it takes is fine.

I know I am on my way home to Kenya because the faces are so different sitting here at the airport. Now I see the faces of Kenya, I see the Kikuyu, the luo and the luya. I actually can pick out the facial differences of most of the tribes now and know Somalis from Ethiopians from Eritreans. A Somali drove me to the airport and we had a cool conversation about El Shabbab. He is from Southern Somalia and I think he daren’t say that he supports El Shabbab, but he wasn’t putting them down either.

It looks to be an interesting trip this time.

Because I am white and don’t belong to any tribe, people from all tribes tell me stuff they would never say aloud with other tribes. So I shall be interested to hear what people’s take is on El Shabbab.

More later when I land in Nairobi. I am looking forward to the warm moist air and the night sky. It is the short rains right now, but hopefully they will have passed for the day and I shall be able to look out onto the endless spectrum of stars that dot the horizon and the moon radiates above.

12 November 2011

It’s the little things that now make me laugh. Americans would really be upset if their phone number changed every 6 months or so. Once I landed I had to tank up my Kenya phone. Because I use it every 6 months or so, and can’t tank it up in the U.S, it means that I have a new sim card often. Which means I must call everyone and give him or her my new number. Which means that I have to buy extra cards so that I can call my friends and contacts here. It’s just part of how it works here.

I got in late, as usual and the lines for customs were long and ponderous. But again, it’s just part of the deal. Folks who were tweaking didn’t get anywhere and I figure waiting in the visa line beats waiting for luggage and getting crushed in the mix. Since my suitcases are all hand painted by me, I know no one is going to take them. And since they both weighed in over the weight limit, most folks can’t even ick them up.

It was great to see Francis waiting, and his son John who has grown exponentially since I saw him last. Francis says things have quieted down here in Nairobi, so we’re going to the Westlands to Masaii market today. I hate shopping and quibbling with the vendors, so I like to get it over as soon as possible. I swear Francis is my Kenyan husband and understands me well. We have our routine down pat and I’m glad we both slip into our easy friendship so quickly.

Ok, I’m hoping to post this now, since I’m in one of the better hotels and they ostensibly have Internet. It wasn’t working last night and there were some pretty angry muzungus. It’s going to be a long trip for them if they get upset about not having Internet. What are they going to do when there’s no power or water?? Oh, no they won’t be staying in those places.

Catch you later y’all

The Flamingo Has Landed

2011-11-12T01:57:00.000-08:00

11 November 2011

It looks to be an interesting trip this time.

12 November 2011

Catch you later y’all

At Least The Cow Isn't Pissed

2011-11-08T12:41:00.000-08:00

8 November 2011

Is it really almost 10 years since my first time in Siaya? Imagine! (the Kenyans say this word with such emphasis it loses a bit in the translation). I went to Kenya that first time on complete faith and trust that my guardian angels and God would watch over me. I had met 2 ministers in Addis Ababa and was flying back to Africa to meet them.

One lived just outside Nairobi, and the other lived in Siaya. I knew nothing of either place, but Siaya was really out there. I flew into the tiny airport in Kisumu and was met by Mama Daniel and her brother, Ben. I had no idea where I would be staying or what I would actually learn, but so like a freshman in college, I was up for it.

The history of Siaya is contained in the blogs of long ago. I am in awe that people had enough faith in me stateside that they raised the money, developed One Village at a Time into a non-profit and never knew how little I knew. It was, as they say, the Beta project. It ended very very badly. People in Siaya were pissed and so were my brother and sister-in-law whose daughters had gone over to get caught up in my debacle. It wasn’t pretty.

Now, now I know the importance of so many things including good partners on the ground. I know how things work in Kenya (as much as anyone can). Our program has developed into something truly remarkable. We have gone from a rag tag feeding station in Siaya feeding 26 kids for $4000 to feeding 2000 kids for 6 months for the same price. And we are improving their lives and their parents lives. It’s a real macro approach.

Nambale is graduating 2 schools, a new one will enter to partner with the one we took in last year. And I am going back to Siaya. Funny how things work. Monica had asked me to work in her home village and of course I said yes. Then she told me it was Siaya. I must admit I blanched, and I am hoping they don’t string me up when I come back into town. I’m thinking that if I’m riding with Monica and Francis it will be ok.

So come with me now dear readers as we travel back to where I began. It’s going to be a really cool journey and I promise to tell all the truth, not just some of it. And in the end, hopefully, you will know me and why I do what I do.

Keep the Faith Y’all.

Back To Where We Began

2011-11-05T08:12:00.000-07:00

I am readying to return to Kenya Thursday. I look at our blue sky here, but I can already see the vastness and beauty of the African sky. I am longing to see my sister Monica and hug her. I think of driving with Francis and of the many journeys we have shared during this 9 year adventure. He has taught me a lot and I pray I have taught him some things too.
I am going back to the Village where I began 10 years ago. Without going into too many details, one could politely call it our beta program.
It was my learning place; it was where I knew that Africa would always own a piece of my heart and I would always have to return to touch that place. It was a place of humiliation and disgrace.
So now I begin again there. I am wiser now. I am accompanied by Monica and her team. I am glad I get the chance to do it right this time.
So this begins my journal for you and the Board. I must finish packing my suitcases. Funny how 100lbs fills up so quickly. Again I shall have to choose what is more important. And again I shall cover my bounty with condoms and candy. I am going home again.

She's BAAAACK!

2011-06-01T06:43:00.000-07:00

Haven't been here folks for a while. This is where I'm supposed to put opinions not related to One Village. I opened up the Washington Post and got blasted by the woman I love to hate, Sarah Palin. Seems she's playing games with the media, and I just hope that the public doesn't fall for her shenanigans.
I've been wondering why she offends me so much. Could it be her stance on abortion, gay rights, the budget, environmental conservation, gun control. Yeah all of these piss me off, but the deal is I didn't like Nixon, or Bush or Regan, but they never stirred up the ire that she does. And that's because she's dumb as hair, and the thought of her even contemplating the presidency makes my blood run cold. How she got to be governor of a state is bad enough, but I am hoping the Peter Principle will be in effect and she will have risen to the top political office she will ever attain.
If you haven't read "Game Change" about the 08 elections it is certainly worth perusing. It was a game changer for me. I got to really respect Hillary which was not in my repertoire before and to really see just how truly uninformed and stupid Sarah is. Oh please folks, join me in prayer that Sarah's bus falls off a cliff and when she comes up for air she will have been struck dumb (meaning not able to speak not i.q. wise)
And that's it for today.
Keep the faith y'all

A Journey to Self-hood,” One Village at a Time”

2011-04-18T13:42:00.000-07:00

Children purposely burned to death in a church, my hair matted with red clay for days, no place to go pee until 6P, no electricity, no water for showers, malaria, dysentery as part of my every day life. These were not things anyone would have thought I could endure much less treasure it.
When I was young, back in the 50’s, I thought that the poverty line people spoke of was about $60,000. My middle school was featured in a Time Magazine cover called “Suburbia’s Coddled Kids.” We were white, we were rich and we were totally isolated from the world.
When my marriage ended when I was 41, I finally grew up. And I stepped into the world.
I have had many lives since then, but nothing compares to what happened when I was 55. That was when I went to Africa and saw the poverty and the horror this white girl just wasn’t prepared for. More than that I saw whole villages lost to the decimation of AIDS. At first the whole scene in Addis Ababa was overwhelming, but somehow I had to something. I knew it would be a small thing; no one could take on what was happening in Africa in 2002. But I would try.
I returned to Africa 3 months after my first trip. I had packed 2 large suitcases with supplies I thought they needed, and knowing no one but the 2 ministers who had asked me to come to their villages, flew off into the unknown. People ask me if I was scared and I can honestly say, no not at all. It just seemed like the right thing to do.
In the second village I went to, I was taken to the hovels that the people lived in. I saw children bringing up children, death and dying everywhere. And I asked the question to the pastor “What do we do first”, and she said, “Feed our children”.
Feed our children, something so simple. While the world was singing to “We Are the World”, children were dying from starvation in Kenya. Drought and famine ran rampant across the more civilized countries in Africa. This was not Darfur; this was Kenya, home of “Out of Africa”. They had a democracy, Nairobi was a great city and people would rave about the safaris they had gone on.
No one, however, saw the real Kenya I saw. I was the only muzungu (white) I saw on the trip. I went where tourists never go, and I saw what tourists never see. After 3 weeks of traveling the dirt roads, talking to people, praying with them, and seeing bulging tummies on the children, I knew something had to be done.
That’s how One Village at a Time got started. I returned home and found one donor who was willing to commit $4000 for a year to feed the children. While I had sat on many charitable boards, I had never been an Executive Director. I surely knew nothing about forming a 501c3. But I’m a quick learner and within six months I had a board of directors, a mission statement and the beginnings of the organization.
We began by feeding children in a feeding station. Children would run miles to the station to get their lunch, often the only meal they got. I was so proud we were feeding 30 children for a year for $4000. I thought that was amazing. I was wrong and the first project was a disaster. Seems in Africa you can feed kids for a lot less and the person running the program was pocketing much of the money. Totally shamed I had to go to the Board and tell them.
While I was surely born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I was not even given the sample size of patience, and I was pretty despondent about the endeavor. But people here in Boston believed in me, and I hate to quit anything. With the understanding of a new Board of directors and their guidance, I finally found my way and ultimately the way forward for One Village. We found partners on the ground who had done what we wanted to do.
KMET was an answer to our prayers. They did community organization, they did micro-finance (we finally understood if we didn’t help the parents make money they would never become self-sustaining) and the ED of the program was like a long lost sister.
We are now a well-oiled machine. We do what big business can’t do. We leave. We can go into a community, get them involved in the feeding program, teach them micro-finance, and get them up and going in 2 years. We feed 3000 kids; 500 parents and teachers are getting loans, girls are learning about their bodies and we do it for $25,000 a year. And frankly, we couldn’t handle more than $100,000 per year.
I want to keep One Village small and effective. I want us to go out of business. Yes I volunteer my time, and yes I am glad for it. I am glad for all the young, enthusiastic people who help raise the money, build the website, keep the books. Anyone who helps us, or gives money to us knows exactly what it pays for. I am glad for that as well. I want everyone to feel like they are a raindrop, and together we will clean up this mess.
And who am I for this experience? I am woman of great patience now. Things happen, as they should in their time. I am a woman of great faith, both in what I am doing and in the people with whom I work. I am a woman of gratitude for each minute on this planet and for this work I get to do. I am a woman of understanding and acceptance. I live with the world and the wonderful tapestry of people that populate it. I am never more alive as when I am in Kenya. One Village at a Time has not changed my life it has made my life.

Cuts For Cutting Are Good

2011-03-26T07:57:00.000-07:00

Female castration is one of the most grisly events I have ever seen. I watched as a 2-year-old child, screaming at the top of her lungs was held by her mother, while the Mzee cut the clitoris and labia off. I couldn’t believe a mother could do this, but culturally it has been done for hundreds of years.

Kenya outlawed this practice, however tribes continue to do it. Bungoma is a town not far from where One Village works. In today’s paper I read that circumcision by 3 of the tribes is getting too costly. It seems for a full ceremony, including the killing of 2 bulls a family must pay 52,000ksh. That would send a child to secondary school for 4 years.

It seems that while the threat of AIDS is one reason they may slow it down, the real reason is that it’s too costly. While I wish it were because the girls are mutilated, I am well aware that changing customs anywhere in the world is not something that happens over night. So I guess I’m glad the cost of female castration has gone up enough that the Sabaot are considering stopping the tradition.

To read the full story here is the link: http://www.nation.co.ke/News/regional/Circumcision+proud+tradition+faces+the+cut++/-/1070/1133200/-/13vnqqbz/-/index.html

We Are Family

2011-03-05T09:45:00.000-08:00

We are Family

I guess I’m showing my age. I had had a great day of working on One Village and was coming home from the grocery store. All I could hear in my head was Sister Sledge singing “We are Family”, Ah the Disco Years. I realized yesterday, after a hectic week of working with so many people on One Village activities that that is what we are. We are family.

When I started OVAAT back in 2002 we were far from that. I was OVAAT and the burden was pretty great. I would lie awake nights wondering if I could find donors to carry on supporting the few children we were feeding. I did the fundraising, tried to get the word out and did a terrible job of making a website. Board members came and went, there were hurt feelings, petty squabbles and board members shied away from actually getting their feet wet.

Something happened in 2006. The stars aligned, the work took on a different scope, and the family began to coalesce. Soon we had folks who wanted to raise money, who wanted to work on the website, who wanted to get more sponsors. The Board became a group of amazing people who came together gladly. And I guess, to be perfectly honest, I let go of OVAAT and shared it with everyone. Everyone’s opinion counted and ideas flourished and people not only worked on the Board but also became friends.

It is 2011. We are on our fourth Harames. We have a research committee, a fundraising committee, a marketing group, a website group but most important of all is how everyone cares about each other. When Alyssa didn’t make the fundraising meeting because of a sick child, I got lots of messages asking how her son was. When I wanted our new web designer to be able to come up here from Kentucky with her husband, one of the guys working on the website offered to pay for the husband’s ticket.

We are more than friends now, we are a family and One Village at a Time is our child. We want the very best for this special being. We want to see it grow and develop and reach towards the sky. We want to protect it and make sure that if we are not here that the next generation will follow up and care for it. We do this freely with no pay except the incredible experience of watching OVAAT grow up.

As for me, when I spoke to the Board last week, I cried. What I had hoped for and dreamed about these 9 years was a reality. We’re there. We have a successful model we can roll out across Africa, and I knew it was because we are family. And I am so very, very grateful .In my mind now, Harambee isn’t just a fundraiser; it’s a family reunion.

Get on board people, it’s a great family and all are welcome!

A Few of My Favorite Things

2011-02-28T21:04:00.000-08:00

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

2011-02-12T07:52:00.000-08:00

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

2011-02-10T06:51:00.000-08:00

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

2011-02-03T21:37:00.000-08:00

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!

2011-02-01T11:57:00.000-08:00

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!

2011-02-01T07:25:00.001-08:00

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.

Something to Think About

2011-01-31T09:30:00.001-08:00

30 January 2011

As I watched the situation in Egypt unfold from Boston, I must admit that my first reaction was one of admiration and fascination that the internet, and particularly Facebook and Twitter could possibly topple a government. I have been reading “In the Time of the Butterflies” about the Trujillo regime in the Dominican Republic and the years and lives it took to take him down. And now it seems there was a possibility it could be done in a matter of days and the speed of cyberspace.

Now I am here in Kenya. When I arrived on Saturday night the Egyptian Soccer team was sitting on the steps leading up to my hotel. They had lost to Kenya, but that was far from their minds as they watched their country explode. The did not want to return. Their faces were drawn and the coaches also had a tight expression on their faces. When I awoke in the morning, they were gone, so I guess they went home.

I have an eerie feeling being here now. I am not afraid for my safety, but the memory of post election violence of 2007-08 is never far from my mind. And what strikes me now is that everything is up for grabs. They no longer need leaders (like Kenyatta and Musyoka who started it up for elections) to fulminate bad feelings. I am here, far from the US and I know what tribal hatred looks like, I know what corruption does to the spirit of the poor, I know there is famine here again. I also know the intelligence of the college students and graduates who are withering without a job and I see the possibilities of eruptions all over Africa.

In the U.S people tend to separate out one country from another. I suspect they are deeply concerned about Egypt. That has been our “ally” for years and so stable. Folks like to vacation there, take a trip up the Nile. And now we are evacuating Americans. But Americans don’t really pay attention to what is going on in the rest of Africa. The Sudan (which is next door to Egypt) is going to blow, but no one cares, Darfur was just so 90’s. But they are rioting in Khartoum, Tunisia, and given the haves and have-nots over here, there is a lot watch and to think about.

I don’t know how I feel about all this. There is a part of me from the 60’s, that time of being an empowered student that applauds their courage and roots them on. After all we toppled a presidency and nothing horrible happened. But the older part of me thinks that we are now so interconnected (thanks to that very same internet) that doesn’t know if the unbridled power of social media and student revolutions may achieve goals that the students and people could not have foreseen.

It is an interesting time to be over here. I am anxious to read the papers each day, since they are much better than what you get online, and to talk to people. To get their take on what is happening and where the road will lead. It surely is a time to pay attention.

So I hope you’ll follow this with interest and get your friends to care about this continent. They have been waiting too long.

Cutting My Way Through Customs

2011-01-29T13:00:00.000-08:00

Gotta love native dress. I should maybe be ashamed of my shenanigans but it is for the greater good. I always dress in a dress the woman here in Nambale make for me. I have played this one act play so many times. It’s always a bit of a nail biter.

First there is the layering of clothing that must take place to go from snowy Boston to equatorial Africa. That means long underwear under the rather flashy green dress. As I hit Amsterdam, off go the bottoms of the long johns. The socks came off in the plane and just before we land, I dash into the minute bathroom and take off the rest of the under garments so I look fresh as a daisy.

I was carrying 5 brightly painted suitcases. That is a whole lot of stuff to be carrying, and despite covering the real stuff with either condoms or used Christian books for children; there is always the possibility they are going to make me open it up.

As I wend my way down to the luggage area, much to my delight my suitcases are swirling around the carousel. There was a woman immigration officer who commented on my outfit saying, “You look very smart”. Ringer, I’m in. I knew I could charm my way through customs by talking about my fetching painted luggage and reassuring her that they were Christian reading material and condoms. And that dear readers is how I got $16,000 worth of medications into the most corrupt country in Africa (not including Mugabe).

want to read more? go to www.onevillageatatime.org/blog

And The Hits Just Keep Coming

2011-01-28T10:24:00.001-08:00

I really don't have to comment on this. It's so appalling that I'll let the article speak for itself.
How anyone could go to Gaddafi for help in a Human Rights quest is beyond the ridiculous. Musyoka is one of the gang of government folks in Kenya who were accused of War Crimes by the ICC. And he doesn't want to go to the Hague for a trial. OMG some things are just too egregious.

Gaddafi backs Kenya's quest for ICC deferral

Libyan leader Muammar Gaddafi has supported Kenya’s intention to request the UN Security Council to call for deferment of its cases at the International Criminal Court.

RELATED STORIES

African leaders split on bid to defer Hague trials

Mr Gaddafi said Kenya was an important member of multilateral institutions like the African Union and United Nations and therefore its considered opinion on how to handle her internal affairs should be respected.

“Africa has come of age in the respect of human rights and provision of justice. If Kenya says they want to use local judicial mechanism and demonstrate that this will be so in respect to the suspects of the post-election violence then so be it,” said the Libyan leader.

The Libyan leader who met Kenya’s Vice President Mr Kalonzo Musyoka at his retreat farm in the outskirts of the capital Tripoli said African problems requires African solutions, adding that the continent should only attract international attention in case members are completely unable to handle their internal affairs.

The VP, who was accompanied by Tourism minister Najib Balala and Nominated MP Mohamed Affey said Kenya was committed to the continued implementation of the Rome Statute and recognition of the role the ICC plays in securing respect for human rights and delivery of justice globally.

“All that we are asking is for a deferral to allow the setting up of a local judicial mechanism to try the suspects of the post-election violence. This is the only way we can encourage Kenyans to have faith and trust in the brand new institutions being established under the new constitution," said Mr Musyoka.

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

How Could I Forget

2011-01-27T10:58:00.001-08:00

The snowstorm last night has delayed my departure. It’s not a big deal since nothing happens fast in Africa anyway. Tomorrow will be soon enough to leave. You see I forgot and today’s headlines screamed at me of the uglier side of Africa. They kill gays.

Want to read more? go to www.onevillageatatime.org/blog

You Have to Go Far to Find What is Near

2011-01-25T17:50:00.000-08:00

Francis, my driver taught me that a few years ago. I don't remember the circumstances, but inevitably they had to do with driving on a long dusty road and coming home to where we were staying and discovering what we needed. As I prepare for my trip I think of all the hands that are holding me as I go forth.
Want to read more?? got to www.onevillageatatime.org

I Am Readying

2011-01-23T19:00:00.000-08:00

I love some of the ways Kenyan English works. One of them is to take nouns and make them verbs. So I am readying. My Kenya mobile phone is charging right now, I am pulling out my ksh and my phone cards. Start taking the anti-malarials in a couple of days, press the Ketange, and think of all that is ahead.

I am carrying well over the weight limit in medications. I am also bringing tee shirts from Tiny Revolutionary to our littlest children. I will be building a pre-school (well the building is there) and teaching the ECD teachers how to help children be more creative. They will learn about sandboxes and water play and dress up. None of that happens over there now. I will go to the local department store and buy cups and pans and spoons for children to learn to measure and experiment. Originally Monica asked me to bring toys, but I am going to do her one better. I will teach child development, where I started 40 years ago.

I am reading "Cutting For Stone" which many are as well. One of the sentences I loved is:
"We live our lives going forward, and then think about them going backward." There is no such thing as wasting time. With all the things I have done sometimes I wondered why did I have to learn that? or wow I didn't need that graduate degreee...but it's not so. Every moment of life lines up for the next thing and many years down the road you may find that something learned a lifetime ago is just what you need at this moment in time.

I am so glad to be going home to Kenya. When I am away this long there is an ache in the pores of my body. I long for the smells and sounds. I miss driving with Francis, laughing with Monica and most of all the children swarming to touch my hair. I want to see the weather coming at us over the valleys, hear the pounding of the rain on the tin roofs.

Check in on our website to follow my adventures. The blog is moving over there this week. I will always leave a link here for you to get there, but if you want to see what's happening it will be on our website. www.onevillageatatime.org

Do join me. I will try and open up the world for all of you.
Opak Ruoth

Centrum or Advil???

2011-01-17T18:43:00.000-08:00

Before they get to customs

Despite all my blessings tonight I am sad. All the medications came today from MAP International and they’re great. So many things we need. I’ve got one suitcase fully packed. Of course I can’t let customs see the meds when I come into the country. I have a full receipt for everything, but they would try and take them. Someone in their family could use what I am bringing in or it would sell on the black market.

So I pack carefully and then cover them all up. I’ve travelled so many times I know what puts customs people off, condoms and my black dongs. (I use them for AIDS trainings) So as you can see the before and after photos, I doubt the guys at the borders are going to dig through the condoms.

This adds a whole new meaning to cover up!

It’s the decisions you see that I hate. The Claritn is out and so is the Pepcid and the Metamucil for constipation. Those are no brainers. I have a 80lb limit (or 50lb per one suitcase and I’ll probably have to pay a little bit more for the second one) But I have an abundance of multivitamins and Advil. Which is more important? Which one should I bring? And in what kind of world do we live in where someone must make that decision given the poverty of the place I’m going.? I think of the constant coughing of the children, so the cough tabs and dimetap are immediately added as are the kids multi-vites. But for the grownups, the women…vitamins are probably better than pain killers… Did you know that 1 in every 18 women where I work dies in childbirth? Can you imagine that? Can you imagine going into an OB practice and thinking if there were 9 women in that room pregnant, one would die?

Sometimes being a raindrop just doesn't feel like enough.

Ok This is Just Wrong

2011-01-12T09:42:00.000-08:00

I'm getting packed to go on home. Of course there is about a foot of snow outside so I'm glad my plane wasn't supposed to leave today. I hope you all remember my reporting on the election violence in Kenya 3 years ago. I surely do.

It turns out that some of the most prominent names in politics in Kenya were named by the Hague for their crimes of inciting the riot and the aftermath. It even includes the vice president of the country, and the son of a former president, Uhuru Kenyatta. They face trials and prison. We all know politicians hate being caught (Hey Hey Tom Delay 3 yrs for you!) but this is totally outrageous.
Kalonzo Musakoya (the VP) it seems would rather not have an international trial. Seems that he would like to be tried probably in Kenya. Hmmm....no corruption there. But the deal is he's going to 6 other African countries to try and talk them into pulling out of the Hague agreement so that he can be tried locally. Really? Really??
Sometimes when I read these things it makes me crazy angry. For the children killed in the church fire in Eldoret, for the burnings, and terror of my nieces hiding in a field at night praying they wouldn't get killed, man I think this guy and his cronies should be held in an international court with full network access.
Just as we are facing the aftermath of killings and attempted murder of one of our congresswomen, it is time to stop the violence everywhere. For me the works of the Kenya 6 are far more egregious since they were planned and carried out by officials, not just one lone nut job.
And that's my take on politics for today.

Below is the Nation Reporting.

Kenya seeks AU backing on bid to pull out of Hague

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By OLIVER MATHENGE omathenge@ke.nationmedia.comPosted Tuesday, January 11 2011 at 21:00

IN SUMMARY

VP and three ministers in mission to woo African leaders

The government has sent ministers to lobby different African countries to support its efforts to have the six Kenyans named by the International Criminal Court tried locally.

RELATED STORIES

The brief for the ministers, who include Vice-President Kalonzo Musyoka, is to urge the African leaders to support Kenya’s efforts to try The Hague Six locally.

The Nation learnt on Tuesday that Mr Musyoka is currently in South Africa to meet President Jacob Zuma over the issue.

Sources said that the VP will on Thursday hold talks on the same issue with Ugandan President Yoweri Museveni.

Next week, he will be in Malawi on the same mission — which comes two weeks before African Union heads of State meet in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, for a major summit.

Sources close to the VP confirmed that Mr Musyoka had discussed the matter with his host in South Africa.

Shhh...Don't Tell...They're Killing People

2011-01-10T10:27:00.000-08:00

The voting continues in the Sudan. It's hard to get the truth out of folks.
This article just upsets me. "A UN source speaking on condition of anonymity"...really? really??? This comes from an MSNBC article. So let's see let's lie and say things are going well when they are killing each other. The UN must save face right? or is it George Clooney? Or just whom?

As I said yesterday, I didn't have high hopes for no violence, and we don't know exactly how much is going to happen, but that the UN source can only tell what's happening on promise of anonymity is disgraceful Aren't the supposed to be the ones reporting what's happening.

The second article comes from the Nation which I trust more than MSNBC. Still says that there are areas where the killing has started. It's not that I'm blood thirsty, I pray for peace, but I know the hatred that runs deep within tribes. The resources in the Sudan are located in the south, so what's in it for the north to give up gracefully? Pray people, pray.

"This is their last attempt to try to disrupt the voting process but they will not succeed," Aguer said.

Misseriya leader Mokhtar Babo Nimr told Reuters 13 of his men had died in Sunday's violence and accused southerners of starting the fighting.

"They attacked us because they don't want the Arabs to go south to water their herds but the cattle need water and they will go. If they continue to stop us going south this fighting will continue."

A U.N. source, speaking on condition of anonymity, said there had been another clash in the village of Todach on Monday morning.

In another sign of tension, Aguer said two men — a Ugandan and a northern army soldier — were arrested with four boxes holding

700 rounds of AK-47 ammunition in the southern capital Juba on Sunday night.

The northern army's spokesman, al-Sawarmi Khaled, on Monday denied any link to the ammunition or the clashes.

Janjaweed  The Sudanese president's regime is accused of unleashing Arab militias known as janjaweed, against rebels in the Western Darfur region which have committed atrocities against ethnic African towns and villages. The U.N. says some 300,000 people have died since 2003. The government denies backing the janjaweed and says the death figures are inflated.

Southerners, who mainly define themselves as African, have long resented their underdevelopment, accusing the northern Arab-dominated government of taking their oil revenues without investing in the south.

Southern Sudan is among the world's poorest regions. The entire France-sized region has only 30 miles of paved roads. Because only 15 percent of southern Sudan's 8.7 million people can read, the ballot choices were as simple as could be: a drawing of a single hand marked "separation" and another of clasped hands marked "unity."

Independence won't be finalized until July, and many issues are yet to be worked out. They include north-south oil rights, water rights to the White Nile, border demarcation and the status of the contested region of Abyei, a north-south border region where the biggest threat of a return to conflict exists.

Most of Sudan's oil is in the south, while the pipelines to the sea run through the north, tying the two regions together economically.

Reuters and The Associated Press contributed to this report.

The Nation Kenya's national paper

JUBA, January 10, 2011 (AFP) - The feuding Misseriya Arab and Ngok Dinka peoples of the disputed Sudan district of Abyei on Monday both reported heavy losses in clashes over the past three days totalling at least 33 dead.
RELATED STORIES
Kenya 'ready' for post-referendum Sudan
9 killed in Abiyei as referendum vote continues
Sudanese pray for peaceful vote
What a break-up would mean to the Sudanese and Africa
Khartoum blamed for Abyei clashes
"Thirteen Misseriya have been killed and 38 wounded since Friday," Misseriya tribal leader Hamid al-Ansari said.
Abyei chief administrator Deng Arop Kuol said: "The total for these three days, we lost about 20 to 22 Dinka.
"They attacked us three times already and we are expecting them to attack again today."
UN peacekeepers have been sent to Abyei to investigate, UN Mission in Sudan spokesman Kouider Zerrouk said.
Tensions in the district on the north-south border have been rising with the launch of a landmark independence referendum in the south on Sunday.

Got Hope?

2011-01-09T17:23:00.000-08:00

Hardly seems possible that it was 2 years ago I was readying for Obama's Inauguration. The tee shirts and slogans abounded and one that I loved was a take off on Got Milk? I wear it now and it says Got Hope? I'm not really sure. I'm not talking about Obama or the horrific shooting in Arizona yesterday, I'm talking about the Sudan. I read different accounts of the voting today and it's mixed. Of course our news reports some killings, but the African papers seem to be saying it's going pretty well.

A good friend talked me out of going there right now. He assures me that the rebels are coming up from Darfur and that the north is going to have to stop them. Then he went into all the other possibilities of potential dangers in the Sudan as it reaches its arms up to the to snatch a new country down from the African sky.

Southern Sudan, how will it name itself? What flag will it fly? What anthem? And how will the North and the South divvy up the oil, the people, the rest of the resources? I read in the Nation that the religious animosity is beginning. The president of the Sudan already has started by saying that any southern sudanese who work in the north will be fired. And he's going to make Islam the national religion of the North.

Having lived through the chaos of Kenya's ugly election violence and watching how their constitutional referendum came with such peace is encouraging. I ask myself will the Sudanese be tired of fighting and end up in peace, I hope so. But again, I have to be honest. I don't really have hope. I wish I did.
Stay tuned y'all and I'll keep you informed. Our papers never really cover Africa.

Here's what the Nation had to say about it.

HomeNews

NEWS

S. Sudan: Thorny issues that must be resolved

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A soldier guards a polling station in Juba on January 9, 2011 on the first day of a week-long independence referendum expected to lead to the partition of Africa's largest nation and the creation of the world's 193rd UN member state. AFP PHOTO/Roberto SCHMIDT

By EMEKA MYAKA GEKARA newsdesk@ke.nationmedia.comPosted Sunday, January 9 2011 at 22:00

Even as Southern Sudanese appear likely to vote for divorce with the North, the real test of a peaceful coexistence with Khartoum will depend on how the two states resolve contentious issues.

RELATED STORIES

The two states would also have to agree on a common currency, payment of foreign debt and the future of the oil-rich region of Abyei.

The agreement must be reached before July 9 when the new state would be proclaimed.

The other thorny issue is the fate of the nearly 1.5 million Southern Sudanese — mostly Christian — living and working in the North.

President Omar-al-Bashir has already declared that if the southerners opt for separation those working in the North will be discharged.

The Southern Sudanese hold 20 per cent of the jobs in public service.

Mr Bashir has announced that if the South goes separate, he will change the constitution in the North to impose Sharia law and ensure that Islam and Arabic are the official religion and language, respectively.

Analysts have warned unless mutually agreed upon, they contentious issues run the risk of re-igniting conflict and preventing smooth secession.

“We are supposed to decide on how to deal with the huge $35 billion (Sh2.8 trillion) external debt and the sharing of boundaries.

Our breaking away will not mean that we cut oil to the North,” says Mr Garang Majak Angok, a former Finance minister in the South.

President Bashir and Salva Kiir of the South, have pledged to resolve the issues with sincerity, fairness and in consistency with international laws to ensure cordial relations between the two possible states.

“I have reiterated several times that even if Southern Sudan separates from the North it will not shift to the Indian Ocean or to the Atlantic Coast,” said Mr Kiir recently.

Home Again Home Again Jiggidy Jig

2011-01-02T13:56:00.000-08:00

The first post of 2011. I liked 2010, so I'm thinkin' I'll probably like 2011. May there be grace and peace to all of you this year and a feeling of abundance.

Undaunted by the debacle that was Christmas travel, I am totally looking forward to going back to Kenya in a couple of weeks. Now, in faith, I shall not nor ever will fly British Air so it is easier to be optimistic. Of course Delta is not in the best financial state, but I hope they can pay for the gas and de-icer that it seems BA could not.

For me it's Christmas again. Only the good stuff, not the icky travel of the last week or so. The first box of medications arrived, (amoxicillin, erythromycin, vitamins, antifungals, etc) and there are more on the way. I have a good many bandages and I can't wait for the stethescopes and suture kits. Ah...it's amazing what makes a girl happy. I totally have this nailed as well. I'm going to do my regular condom, dildo packing trick. Meds on the bottom, a layer of clothes, then the condoms and the dildos on top. The customs folks hate it when I shove those things in their faces and they always push me right through. If I didn't do that they would totally hassle me about this shipment and probably want to bag a whole lot of the medications I'm bringing in to sell or use themselves. Ah corruption.

I must say I am frequently overwhelmed by the faith people have in me. They are generous and kind and they are willing to do whatever to help One Village. This month the generosity has been particularly touching as has the team spirit of the Board of Directors. They are totally amazing in case I haven't said that enough. And they know so much cool stuff that I don't and they know how to do the things I can't. It saddens me to think how many people my age don't have the remarkable young peacekeepers in their lives. They just don't know how philanthropic, kind, creative, compassionate, funny and inspiring they are.

So I'm whipping out the suitcases, getting my adapters ready,grabbing the dildos and condoms and hiding the drugs. I am having a hard time waiting. I smell the pungent earth, I hear the cacophony of the animals and the vendors, I see the children running towards me and I taste the ever present grit and smile. I'm going home soon.

Moving Right Along....Ah No

2010-12-21T05:17:00.000-08:00

It is now Tuesday afternoon here in Lovely Luton. The skies are still dreary and it’s cold, but the good news is that I keep hearing planes take off. When I go on the website for Luton Airport I see most planes are leaving and those that are delayed are delayed by a quarter hour. My spirits soar.

I realized as I hurried down the path for breakfast today that I was ecstatic I was going to be able to eat 3 meals today, if I wanted to. They are actually quite cordial at the Beefeater Lounge and Restaurant. They smile, they bring you what you want, and they actually are open when I need them. And they make a killer treacle pudding.

I continue to be more fortunate than most. British Air once again today cancelled all it’s short haul flights. The T.V reports are now scathing and calling for heads to roll. It seems that in their infinite wisdom British Air Authorities (not to be confused with British Air, although I think that’s a lie) grounded all planes on Saturday not thinking about how they would clean the runway with all the planes parked there.

So there is this horrific mess of planes with tons of frozen snow under them that they can’t move. Add to that the general disarray, lack of snow plows (they have half as many as Gatwick which only has 1 runway) and the utter incompetence of planning by any of the officials and you have one very angry mob.

The other really fascinating and maddening thing is the websites for flights out. Heathrow, in their infinite wisdom, has posted the flights out (mostly to Helsinki, Sweden and parts of the U.S.). If your flight is not “scheduled”, that means you are sol. They say contact the airlines, but that’s a joke. You can’t contact the airlines here. What I figured out is to Skype them in the U.S and wait the required hour for them to tell you that it’s tough luck and they are going to do nada (see I have a Spanish word in my vocab in case I get there) That is making people angry with a white hot rage that alone would melt the runways if they let them out there.

I am hoping my ability to give up and not press on when it looks like folly will pay off tomorrow and I will get out of here. I bailed on Heathrow yesterday and paid Dear Spencer the cabdriver $300 to get to Lovely Luton There is more snow predicted (about 4 inches) but rumor has it that it will stop by morning and my flight is out at night.

Ok I just had to post this one as well. It also reminds me of the attitude of the Government and the airlines in this situation. And I guess you could say they were caught with their pants down...oops missing.

Keep your fingers crossed. And if you’re not totally bored check in again.

Keep the faith y’all

Sittn in My La La Waitn for My Ya Ya....

2010-12-19T12:24:00.000-08:00

Christmas in Madrid, a lovely sounding time yes? No. I vowed long ago never to fly during the Christmas season. A white Christmas means that it is either snowing, about to snow or we’re digging out. These things in Boston may mean the airport is shut for a day or so, but in London it is a disaster.

As I boarded my flight to Heathrow on Friday, the ticket agent could not give me my seat assignment from Heathrow to Madrid. I didn’t think anything of it, ha ha! Something should have warned me that I had my seat assignments for the rest of my trip including the seats from Madrid to NYC and Boston. Never dawned on me that they were messing with me.

Arrival at the grueling hour of 6:30A was not a big deal for me. I have flown into Heathrow many times before. I knew the drill. I checked into BA got my seat assignment and settled into a good movie. Ooops it’s snowing, oh well no big deal, it was the fluffy white stuff, nothing serious. Then all hell broke loose, I got to the gate and they denied me access. Seems the airport had shut down and all I could do is wave goodbye to my flight to Madrid. And that was the end of all flying for Saturday.

If one watches British T.V, or follows the monarchy one thinks of the Brits with excellent manners. Talk about lying in the media. Things at Heathrow deteriorated very rapidly; BA ran away from their desks and hid. No one would tell us anything. Ah thank heavens for the massive display of electronics I carry with me at all times. That and credit cards which I have no problem using when hooking to my IV line of wifi. Boingo I love you! I was soon on all the major sites. Then I realized the way to solve this problem was not going to happen at the airport. Thank heavens I gave up by noon and went off to find a hotel. There were thousands stranded there last night sleeping with thermal blankets and NO TOILET PAPER in the loo! (to say nothing of no food, water or other essentials)

I got a hotel about 15 minutes on a good day from the airport. The taxi driver relished telling me of the horrors yet to come because of the drive, the inability of the authorities to take care of the runways and generally implying that not only might I never get to Spain but that there was a good likelihood as a result of this trip I may just have to become a British citizen.

BA is picking up the tab for my staying at this dump, and Betty, it is indeed a dump replete a veritable UN of disgruntled people begging to pay the $200 to get a room. Ah the Internet. Yee Haw! I queued up to sign in and was ensconced in my room by 2ish. However I had not eaten which has continued to be a problem here in Felltham.

Quickly I figured out the way to get out of here was to Skype American Airlines in the U.S. Over here it is the inmates have taken over the entire city and there isn’t a drop of haldol in sight. After an hour I got through and got a reservation for Sunday.

The Fascist Major Domo at the restaurant refused to give me anything to eat because it wasn’t time yet. Thank heavens I was carrying contraband cheddar cheese for my daughter, which I swiftly broke into. My stomach howled until 6:30P when they opened for dinner. Along with other stragglers I made my way to the restaurant only to be asked if I had a reservation. Are you kidding? I was just here 4 hours ago and you said to come back at 6:30P, no mention of a reservation. However some very nice Finnish people with their baby (who had come in from Uganda) asked me to sit at their table while I watched their daughter Annabelle play with a wind up butterfly and slurp plain pasta. Yes it is an Italian restaurant, but they were out of almost everything.

I rose early this morning since I did have a confirmed reservation to Madrid. Ahhhh, no. Airport was totally shut. That’s how I met Christie (from North Dakota) husband Andy (from Spain) and the mother in law who was suffering from advanced stages of Alzheimer’s. They were stuck here and mom was having a hard time and kept wandering the halls asking people if they had seen her dog. Christie and Andy were worried that it was so hard on her and I flipped back that even if it was she wouldn’t remember. Her dog died 15 years ago. They had come in from Texas and were totally bent out of shape. Seems they had gone to the airport and were flagged away. They weren’t letting anyone in or out of the airport. OMG it’s getting to be like a Hitchcock movie.

She couldn’t figure out how to get on the internet (that’s because if you didn’t buy it at the airport you couldn’t sign on here. )Too much of an overload. Of course, somewhere I remember dialup Internet don’t I????

So the fam tramped up to my room and used Skype. Continental basically told them to fart in the wind. They then tried BA but they weren’t answering their phones here or stateside. Iberia had gone into hiding and only Alitalia, which was of no use, even answered the phone. So I called American for them but after an hour on hold they said whatever Continental said they agreed. They left my room. They were supposed to pick me up for dinner (to avoid the Fascist downstairs another night) but I haven’t seen them since.

Not having learned my lesson, (though I did make a reservation) I ambled down to the restaurant where Mussolini was ignoring everyone in line. Finally I told him I’d do take away and he then reviewed all the things they didn’t have. However there was a guy trying to get to Helsinki who had an IPad and said there was a Chinese place across the street that he had eaten at last night. So I booked it across the street to the nastiest Chinese takeout place I’ve ever seen. Makes my local dive look like a palace. It was run by a Chinese Brit but it bore no resemblance to Chinese food I have eaten before. What I’m eating Chinese take out in a suburb of London while praying that tomorrow I can get the 6P plane to Barcelona, stay over night there and take the bullet train to Madrid on Tuesday.

At least from my window I can now hear a plane taking off. Although the Chinese Brit did relish telling me that when it happened here last Feb. people were stuck for a week.

Yes Virginia

2010-12-08T14:30:00.000-08:00

Hopefully most of you know about the little girl who wrote to a newspaper asking if Santa was real. I believe it was the New York Times. She did receive a beautiful letter back saying "Yes Virginia there is a Santa Claus".

I am returning home to Kenya in 6 weeks. Monica and I finally got to talk. It’s always a challenge and today was no different. We wanted to Skype, and we did try, but her connection just didn’t work. However technology being what it is, I was able to Skype to her mobile phone. You really have to be patient, creative and try many things before something works. It took us 3 days to connect. That’s hard for people here to wrap their heads around. However it has made me a much more mellow old lady.

Much to my delight the reports from 2 of our schools were fantastic. The villagers are so serious about the micro-finance that they hired a debt collector to get money from those who don’t pay back in time. Seems the Iron Lady of Malanga has her hands full managing 129 different groups and said she would not track people down. So the villagers took matters into their own hands and hired some muscle. You can’t imagine how amazing that is. I feel like Sally Fields, they get it they really get it.

I sent the board the good news about the schools, the proposed new school. I do believe I have told you that I have the greatest Board of Directors ever, right? Keep reading to understand the insertion of this paragraph.

The not so fun part of this job is the very difficult decisions I have to make. We dropped a school because it just wasn’t performing, and I know those kids will go hungry. But we are adamant that people learn to fish, not just eat them.

We use something called Mission Air Packs which are sponsored by the drug companies. It allows non-profits like ours to bring much needed supplies over to third world countries. I had my list out while Monica and I were talking. We were trying to decide which they needed more. Hmmm-prenatal vitamins or children’s antibiotics? Stethoscopes or suture kits? Anti-fungal or anti-diarrheals? And the otoscopes were simply out of the question. I told Monica to send me a wish list and I would see what we could do about the extra supplies.

Ok ready? While I’m suffering over this list I get an email from our chairman for fundraising. She writes me and tells me that the gentleman at the next desk just wrote out a check for $500! Well gang that covers everything. So for once no hard medical decisions and my Christmas Miracle was made.

What I know is that opportunity happens in the now. And God really does listen. And sometimes when you’re about to loose it, just what you needed comes through. It is faith, dear readers, and I strongly recommend you aim in that direction. You never know what opportunity or miracle is waiting for you.

Swanky But Don't Touch

2010-11-28T20:14:00.000-08:00

There was a man named Edwin Bernays who was known as the Doctor of Spin. He actually invented subliminal advertising and made his fortune getting women to smoke, chew gum and clean. After World War II they had to get the women out of the work force and back in the home so the guys could get their jobs back. Hmm…the women really liked working and the freedom it provided them. So Bernays came up with the idea to renovate the kitchen and make it more streamlined. Out went the old kitchen table and the icebox and in came chrome and white and shiny stuff. And it was much harder to keep clean, so the little lady had to work harder to keep the kitchen clean with all the “time saving” appliances she now had. That was 60 years ago.

Ooops….no I guess Bernays was also the father of the kitchen renovation. And I’m not sure whether to be grateful or cuss the guy out. (He’s dead so he’s lucky millions of women have not risen up and killed him). Ah the renovations in the kitchen are done, and what a swanky kitchen I have. Its all white, very streamlined and what isn’t white is stainless steel. And literally that’s the rub. Now every fingerprint shows on the stainless. My daughter reassures me they make special stainless steel wipes. Great.

Then there’s all the granite. See how it shines. See the special products I now need to keep it clean. Gone is the butcher-block counter where I could slice, dice and drop hot pots. Now I have different cutting boards for different purposes. I have glass, bamboo, butcher block, and granite. BTW the granite one is so heavy I’m sure I’ll break it by week’s end.

Oh look at those white white cabinets. Wow they’re shiny and bright too. Yeah and I’ve already got some dirty fingerprints on the inside of one and yes there is a special product to get that out.

Wow how about that sleek cook top. It’s black and stainless. It has a computer chip. It has child locks that the cats turn on by walking on the top. It takes me several minutes to unlock the cook top. And yes it has a special product to clean it too. The hood is pretty space age too. I haven’t had an exhaust fan in years, but I’m wondering how to keep the glass part clean and where to change the filter. I’m suspecting this could get really ugly.

I gave the old refrigerator away to one of the workmen for this fabulous new edition. It does everything but brush my teeth and it reminds me every 15 seconds if I leave the door open. It lets out a piercing alert that makes the dogs next-door howl with indignation and makes me want to kill the alarm. I’m going to have to read the directions to see if I can turn the little sucker off. It seems that all appliances come with beeping mechanisms now. Even the washing machine and dryer beep incessantly to tell me “Get up here you lazy sloth and clean the lint filter!”

I have the kitchen now from all the HG T.V specials, the counters from Architectural Digest, the cabinets everyone swoons over, and yes about 8 more hours in my week just to keep it clean. Maybe I’ll just look at it and get take out.

Dirt is My Friend

2010-11-04T17:40:00.000-07:00

I see my last post was before the funeral I held yesterday. If you go by the house you should see the black bunting. I simply cannot do adequate justice to how I feel about the elections, so faced with the dreadful results I have decided to give you a bit of mirth instead.

The last of my ovens, and cabinets. I think that's a tool kit on top

Often people ask me about the conditions in Kenya, and I try to explain about the lack of power, the dust, and things breaking or not showing up on time. They shake their heads as if they can’t possibly imagine it.

Guess what campers? You’re in luck; I have finally found something here stateside that imitates life in Kenya. Destroy your house with remodeling that gives you the constant waft of dust and definitely cakes in your hair just like the roads of Nambale.

In particular try and redo the kitchen, the roof and have air-conditioning put in at the same time so that you can have the full flavor of debris.

The kitchen is an awesome example and I recommend cooking until you can cook no more. I, for one, am not daunted by the lack of counter space, nor do I mind scrubbing down things before cooking. I think, though I have met my match and may just have to start going out for some meals soon.

Notice the sanitary conditions of the cooking surface

However, last night, I felt the need for a Japanese chicken dish that I have not had in years. Don’t ask me why, these things just come to me at odd hours and I seem to do them. So I marinated the chicken in a plate I found under the insulation. I chopped the veggies with a paring knife I found on the floor (I had used it for opening packages); and found two pans with which to cook. Ooops no sesame oil, no matter, I guess it’s butter. I had anticipated a couple of things and did have a fresh bag of jasmine rice I had hidden in the bureau drawer in the back bedroom and I hid the fizzy water mixer in my bathroom next to the exfoliating cream.

Dinner is almost ready, do come and join me

When all the people, both clients and workmen, left the house I let the kitties out and set to work. Ok, the cook top was at peak capacity but I did manage to get everything into the right pots, finish the deed and take it up to my refuge in the back bedroom. I was pretty psyched until the final part of Kenya hit me.

Alas, when putting in the ducting for the air-conditioning, they had cut the power to the bedrooms. Ok, of all things we get used to in Kenya it’s lace of power. So I turned to my trusty halogen flashlight, polished off dinner and read my kindle. Thank heavens for batteries.

They say the electrician will be here today, but I’m not optimistic, but it’s ok. It’s raining out and I can pretend I’m at the Blue York in a storm. I’m just grateful I haven’t lost hot water yet.

2 Weeks till Showtime

2010-10-19T18:23:00.000-07:00

Tomorrow is Weds. Oct 20, 2010. Perhaps it isn't that memorable a day to anyone unless they happen to be born on this day. But tomorrow I will wear purple, not because I am old, (which is true) but to support gay kids all over. I will actually wear purple and black, since the day has been put aside to mourn the gay kids who have been killing themselves like lemmings in the past few months. What does it say about where we are that there needs to be a site: www.itgetsbetterproject.org, where countless interviews by gays are posted on youtube to reassure gay kids that IF they can make it through school, they can get away from the bullies and the teasing and the rejection. It speaks volumes about where we are as a country and Mother is not happy.

I must admit that I am already dreading election day. I'm afraid Barak just never made the switch to being a man of the people. He campaigned well, but he just can't seem to get how to get down with folks. I find that depressing since it has given rise to a lunatic fringe like I've never seen before. I know that some thought my generation were out of control, but we have come into our own and the war in Viet Nam was a travesty and indeed Nixon was a crook. So we don't measure up to the Tea Party Lunatics.

It's much better when they make fools of themselves in person, that's what my daddy used to say. Things can be written about folks, or ads can show things but when you get a real bona fide idiot running for Senate and not familiar with the First Amendment, well honey that just has to go up here. And here's my favorite Republican I love to taunt, Christine ODonnell in the flesh.

Pray for us, my friends, and for heaven's sake get out there and vote!!!

Tea Party and Olympics Won't Mix

2010-10-07T08:44:00.000-07:00

Today I was reading the news and came upon an article about the Games in India. It seems that the 7,000 free condoms already given out have clogged the plumbing. What's even better it is estimated that they will have to give out more. The article goes on to tell us that for the last Olympics they gave out 100,000.

As an AIDS worker I find this great news since it means that the kids are practicing safe sex. But wait up there little campers, whatever are the Tea Party folks going to do about this. Are they going to declare that the Olympics and all other games (including the Pan America games) will be off limits? Will they forbid the American men at least from participating?? I wonder if this will become a campaign issue. Maybe I should contact Rachel Maddow and she can look into it for me.

After all if dear Christine thinks she can forbid kids from masturbating what on earth is she going to do with condoms, perish the thought. And then there's Sarah, gosh isn't she just grand? The spokesperson for abstinence whose daughter had a kid out of wedlock, if she's president can you imagine the problems for Trojan?? Why they might need a bail out!

And that's my observation for the day. Keep the faith y'all

Really?? Really????????

2010-10-04T13:18:00.000-07:00

It is hard for me to believe that election time has come around again. Sarah Palin's daughter is on Dancing with the Stars (her mom was probably pissed she wasn't asked) and there is a new rising star in the Republican spotlight (well really Tea Party) that is beyond belief. Christine Odonnell. Ok, I know she's dabbled in witchcraft, that she thinks mice are being genetically altered to have human brains (yeah no kidding) and that China wants to go to war with us and take over our country. The fact that she is dumb as a rock is beside the point. We have plenty of idiots in Congress. What I find incredible are some of her stances on AIDS and masturbation.

Masturbation, yes I said it. She would like to stop kids from doing that. She doesn't think it's effective in curbing their sexual desires and it doesn't help with abstinence. Aside from the sheer lunacy of trying to stop any red blooded boy or girl from masturbating, how does she get enough votes in Delaware to beat out her Republican opponent? How is this happening? I must be living in a totally alternative universe which I hope I can continue to live in long enough for the Republicans to blow themselves up.

Please God, get the dems out to vote or it's going to be a very very very long 2 years.

And for those of you who just have to see it, here is Ms. Odonnell on the subject of masturbation.

Say YES

2010-08-28T14:00:00.000-07:00

I suppose some people reading this would never get how cool my life is or what pleasure I take in helping people get together. I know it’s not about me, I’m just the conduit for the spirit to pass through me. But sometimes, it is so much fun that I just have to shout out loud.

As you all know, 3 intrepid board members are over in Kenya as I write this blog. Despite my dotage, I am on facebook frequently. I noticed that one of the original Peacekeepers from years back was working in Kisi (not far from where we are working). K is a remarkable young woman, who of course, was destined to meet me. She and I get that. Her destiny as a pediatrician working in Africa was clear to us from the moment we met. She even took a year off from medical school to work in Rwanda. Yesterday I saw her post that she was in Kisumu. And today I was able to catch her on facebook, say hi, and introduce her to our board members. Hopefully tomorrow they will all be swimming at the Kiboko Club and will go on Safari together.

K will also be of great help to Monica and KMET and of course it will be reciprocal. All these amazing people, so very far away are right here with me in my heart. They travel under God’s grace and plan. I’ve never understood why I get to do the things I do but for all of those who understand that there is a plan for all of us, try not to doubt it. If the opportunity opens up, say yes.. It is 9 years ago that I said yes to my first madcap adventure in Ethiopia. That simple yes has enriched my life, grown my soul and made me an infinitely gentler person that I was.What a difference yes can make.

And my prayer tonight is that all of you who read this know and accept that you are part of this magical plan. And I will pray you say YES.

Passing the Torch

2010-08-19T15:09:00.000-07:00

I sit here tonight thinking about the young board members who are about to embark for Kenya. I cannot know exactly what they will see, but I know it will change their lives. And I know that they in turn will change the world.

So often people come to me for so many reasons, and I cannot help but be totally grateful for all who enter my life now. I think of these intrepid young women, spending their own money, (and trust me it ain’t cheap) to be part of the first Breast Cancer walk in Kenya. How amazing is that! Part of me wishes I was going with them, but I know this is their trip. Dr. Seuss once wrote "Ah the places you will go". I suspect each of the women had that read to them growing up, but never thought it would go that far. They will see our schools and our micro-finance, they will meet the women and see lions and hippos. They are the next generation that a friend of mine promised would come to me. Gladly I pass the torch to them.

One of the nicest things about being 63 is that life is sweet and the things you worry about in your 20’s-50’s just aren’t that important. It is so easy to share One Village with all who want to be apart of it. There was a time when my ego felt I had to make things happen, I was in charge. How silly of me. The universe is always doing what the universe is going to do. It’s only an illusion that anyone makes anything happen. It’s just the universe (or God as I believe) cooperating with us, or maybe we’re cooperating with God.

So I wish Ash and Johanna and Bonnie traveling mercies (as we say in Kenya). And I wait, with great anticipation, to hear how the world unfolds for them. Tonight it feels really great to be part of God’s plan.

Keep the faith y’all.

Mwanamke Huru (Women Liberated!)

2010-08-07T14:26:00.000-07:00

This morning when I woke the first thing I read was from Monica (Mama KMET). The letter was filled with joy and optimism. Kenya had passed the new constitution in Peace. I sit here, now, filled with some many thoughts and feelings.

My journey in Kenya started 9 years ago. Kibeki had just been elected and there was a sense of a way forward. People felt that there would be equitable allocation of land, and that things would definitely improve. That was a bit of an overestimation given that Kibeki had been in a horrendous accident that left him with a head injury. His wife frankly ran the country for quite a while.

In 2007 candidates came forward for the new elections. At the same time Mungiki started up and violence exploded, even before the elections began. The pressure mounted, the election got down to a Kikuyu and a Luo and it got really ugly.Just before Christmas 2008 the elections occurred and Kenya exploded For 3 months the country reeled, buildings were burned, children were killed, panga wielding youths attacked each other, and the nightmare went on and on. Each day I read the papers and felt such despair, and I wasn't even a resident.

This is what it looked like during the riots.

Upon finally returning to Kenya in April 2008, while the rioting and burning had finished, the communities were visibly shaken. Being a muzungu (white girl) and not belonging to any tribe, people from each tribe I worked with, described their take on the rioting, who really won the election and what wrongs had been inflicted upon them.

The schools we were working with just went totally down hill, and my dismay continued over the next year. It was not until we united with KMET and people honestly spoke about never returning to the unruly disruption and chaos of the election past, that One Village turned around. I also like to think that Kenya began again.

So many of the inequities of government were going to be addressed in the new constitution. A promise made over 20 years ago, was being written, argued about and finally, finally voted on this past week. For women in particular, the strides are tremendous. They can inherit, they are seen as equals. The women who are the biggest voters anyway can now be better represented in government. Maybe, maybe one day a woman will run Kenya as a woman runs Liberia, and is the vice president of Malawi.

Tonight I smile. Tonight I stand with my Dada Monica and all the women of Kenya. Tonight I stand with all Kenyans who have accomplished so much by passing the constitution in peace. Blessings on all Matokeo Ya Utafutajikwa. I am so happy for you all.

The Nation Newspaper 7 August 2010

It’s a big win for Kenyan women

Women are awaiting emancipation and empowerment when the new constitution takes effect.

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“It is as if it was written for us,” said Kathiani MP Wavinya Ndeti. “We will now be recognised. We will now have equal treatment of men and women, including job opportunities. Women whose husbands die will no longer be disinherited,” said Ms Ndeti.

She said women were the greatest beneficiaries of new constitution adding that children were also properly protected.

Article 68 protects dependants of the deceased which, the MP said, “will bring to an end cases where women are thrown out of their matrimonial homes when their husbands die”.

Nominated MP Millie Odhiambo celebrates the fact that the new law also protects matrimonial homes and widows’ rights to land, and the two provisions will provide greater security for women.

Article 45 (3) also entitles to married people equal rights.

Victims of sexual and gender violence have received special attention. The new constitution further protects children, minority and marginalised groups.

Discrimination of women at the workplace because of pregnancy and marriage will now be a thing of the past.

On citizenship, women have been conferred the same rights as men, which means if a woman gets pregnant by non-Kenyan, the child could get Kenyan citizenship.

Article 14(1) says a person is a citizen if, at birth, either the mother or father is a citizen.

Article 15 further states that a person who has been married to a citizen for at least seven years is entitled on application to be registered as a citizen.

Women further stand to benefit from representation, as each county is required to elect a woman representative to the National Assembly.

In addition, at least six of the 12 members nominated to the National Assembly shall be women. There will be 18 women in the Senate under reserved seats.

Women will be free to contest the remaining seats in the Senate and National Assembly.

“Kenyan women will therefore have true and strong representation in the legislative arms of government. They will direct and influence laws. They will determine development priorities and the application of resources,” said Water Minister Charity Ngilu added.

Through the Kenya Women Parliamentarians Association secretary Cecily Mbarire said the new constitution would render void customary or religious laws that are in contradiction with its provisions.

“This is important to women because the current Constitution has legitimised subordination of women as it embraces legal pluralism, which embodies customary and religious laws that are discriminatory to women,” she said.

The Future is Theirs

Yes Virginia Idealism Still Lives

2010-07-22T12:34:00.000-07:00

Pretty Cool Shirt Huh?

It is an odd quirk of my nature that I can sit comfortably under the African sun and be perfectly content that it is 90 degrees, however 90 degrees in Boston is really quite a misery. I am irritable; I hate being grimy from sweat, and feel the closeness of the city. I suspect that is why it has taken me longer than I wanted to write this blog.

One Village at a Time is blessed with many people who believe in what we are doing. What is most gratifying is that I am the oldest member of this gang by at least 20 years and in some cases 40 years. I remember being infused with politics and suckled by activism, it is indeed in my blood. This Baby Boomer age seems to think that we were the last of the breed. I wish my voice were louder to emphatically say no, but Boomers are still catching up to the web 2.0 age and are not big blog readers.

It has been such a fulfilling past week. Tiny Revolutionary.com, which is run by a friend of my daughter’s, put out the tee shirt, which will raise money for our work in Nambale. It’s a funny story actually. I went on their website to see what they made and was impressed with their idea of bringing kids up as socially conscious humans. I saw that they sponsored charities and wrote to the owner. After several emails back and forth, the owner said she would love to be part of One Village. It was only after I commented on her brown hair, which I remember as red that she actually connected the dots to my daughter. Breeanne (owner of Tiny Revolutionary) just wanted to help, and it didn’t matter whose mother I was. It’s a pretty spiffy tee and it comes in sizes from 3m-Adult XL.

At the same time I have been helping a couple of board members and another young woman plan their trip to Kenya. They are going over there to see what we do, and importantly they are doing it on their dime. That is no small commitment given the $1400 airfare alone. How wonderful it is to open up a world for these women, to help them know that they can really make a difference, that they are the change they want the world to be. I will not be going with them. This is their trip and as those of you who know me know, I follow my instincts. This is supposed to be seen and recorded by young eyes, and by young I mean the oldest is 29 and it goes down from there.

Spreading fairy dust seems to come with marvelously rich rewards. I suggest you try it.

I'm Feeling Tinkish

2010-07-13T14:28:00.000-07:00

There was a song when I was in High School sung by the Kingston Trio. The first line went “They’re rioting in Africa” and it goes on to delineate all the troubles of the world. For those who are wondering the year was 1963. I have not written since the pork party because, frankly the news sucks. Although I am delighted to announce that the pork revelers did consume all 40 lbs. of the succulent meat.

The World Cup, which was supposed to bring people together, and how excited we, who work and live in Africa, were that it was held on African soil, became for me another tragedy when people were killed in Uganda just watching the game. I don’t know if I totally believe in terrorists per se, but I do know what hatred looks like. I have seen it up close and personal, so I was totally saddened by the massacre. And I wonder if we have become so numb to the tragedies that they just pass us by.

I know for several weeks I couldn't watch the news because I couldn't stand looking at all the oil sodden animals, and thinking of them dying. Now the news shouts that people have moved on from Haiti. It's sort of like the tragedy of the week. I am grateful for all those who stick by me and help me in Kenya, since it has been 9 years now, and believe it or not we haven' t solved the problem.

I suspect I don’t have to do the entire litany of dreadful things happening, Arizona, Tea Party, Gulf War, Gulf Pollution…yeah on and on. So I was hoping that I could be like Tinkerbell and just spread some fairy dust around. I wish I could make it all go away, but that wouldn’t be God’s world. But I do feel very Tinkish right now.

It says on my message on my phone: “Courage Doesn’t Always Roar. Sometimes it is the quiet voice at the end of a day saying,” I will try again tomorrow”. So let’s all try.

And for those who want to hear the song here it is:

Let The Porkathon Begin

2010-06-11T13:09:00.001-07:00

I realized ( or actually it was pointed out to me) that I haven’t written anything in a while. Which is true. So I thought I would let you in on the over the top events in Boston during June.

The Pride parade is tomorrow. To be honest it used to be over the top, but now it’s so politically correct that it makes me long for the good old days. Where are the topless Dykes on Bikes? Or Ramrod’s Giant penis spouting bubbles? I miss Homos on Harleys and the Jock Cock men who marched in leather jock straps only. However, it is always amusing to see folks from Red States who wander into the South End trying to get into a restaurant when a giant Drag Queen accosts them and hands them a rainbow condom. I love this time of year and I love the parade. I am glad to live in a State where this nonsense is loved and love itself is not adjudicated by the court system or the state government.

It is also time to start preparing for the annual Porkathon. It is an orgy I prepare once a year for all my friends, One Village at a Time people (not to be confused with the Village People….that’s the first paragraph) and my gay husbands. The event must be held on a Sunday night since my husbands who are in town this weekend spend every other one in Provincetown and can only just get back in time.

It is a cholesterol bonanza. Not only do I smoke 40 lbs of pork and then put it in luscious sauce well spiced with bourbon, but there is homemade mac and cheese, corn bread, baked beans, and of course pecan pie. I use butter at every opportunity. I love cream, whole milk, pounds of cheddar cheese, oh and mayo. For those of us with southern roots you must understand that everything is better with either mayo or bacon or both. Salt, pepper, sugar and bourbon are seasonings, and one should always use them in liberal amounts.

I do not usually eat the day of. It is one of the ironies of life that when you reach a certain age (and I’m there honey) your metabolism slows down. I have found that no matter what I eat or how much I work out my weight seems to be more tied to the stock market that to any caloric intake on my part. And besides, by the time of the event I’ve pulled enough pork, sampled enough mac and cheese etc. that I’m happy to let everyone help themselves.

So this week I began the porkathon. Armed with 40 lbs in the freezer I will set up the smoker and begin the roasting. I do this after midnight since we’re not supposed to bbq on the roof. But hell, for those who know me smoking pork is tame compared to the fireworks I set off. One year everyone had to duck for cover since one misfired and turned back on the crowd instead of up in the air.

Ahhhh June in the South End. A wonderful time of year unless you’re a pig.

Keep the faith y’all.

Ta Daaa!

2010-04-11T13:54:00.000-07:00

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.

Keep the Faith Y'all

They are not Throwaways

2010-03-29T09:46:00.000-07:00

It is hard to believe I am home a month. As I sat last night, my computer in my lap, the soft sound of a fountain in the dining room, food in my belly, I mused at my life. I do not know exactly how I came to this moment, but I know that I was called. I also know that whatever I am asked by Him who loves me I shall do. Many of you have asked about my quick trip to get some girls out of the Congo. Suffice it to say 5 are now living in France and I pray that they can heal. For me, describing it is too difficult, so I give you this link. It seems that Ann Currie has been in Goma and has done an excellent job of taping some of the horrors of the devastation in the Congo.

Many years ago when I first started out working in the slums with children who got bounced from one home to another, I used to call them God's throwaways, because I would watch with sadness and frustration the lives of these young,hardened children, who moved with trash bags from one home to another, often being molested by foster parents. After all they were in care usually because of this kind of abuse, so frequently foster parents didn't really figure they were doing any harm.

One woman, though, has shown me that there is redemption and there is hope for the most ravaged of children. The human spirit cannot be thrown away, and even the smallest flicker of light burning in a child can burst upon the world in ways that no psychologist or social worker could ever have predicted. This woman came to me when she was 10, abused by several, tossed from foster home to foster home, no parents, no family really. All predictions were that she would end up dead or on welfare. Neither is true. She is 40 now, her children are miracles of love and kindness and the woman has been redeemed through her children.

So the girls of the Congo are not throwaways. God doesn't do that, even though it might seem that way. Perhaps they are there to make us move to higher ground, or to remind us to care. I am sorry for the misery they must endure, but my cry is to you to care. This is your opportunity to do something for children the world doesn't see.
Please watch the tv clip and then donate.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/21134540/vp/23170518#23170518

Out of Africa

2010-02-27T07:02:00.000-08:00

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

2010-02-26T09:20:00.000-08:00

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

2010-02-25T08:11:00.001-08:00

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

2010-02-23T21:04:00.003-08:00

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

2010-02-22T23:19:00.000-08:00

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

2010-02-22T00:27:00.001-08:00

“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

2010-02-18T00:33:00.000-08:00

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

2010-02-10T09:01:00.000-08:00

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

Pass the Torch

2010-01-14T20:21:00.000-08:00

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.

Uganda Threatens Death to Gays

2009-12-09T19:49:00.000-08:00

I was so aghast at the headline I couldn't believe it. Yes, Uganda is working on legislation that will make homosexuality not only illegal (with jail up to 7 years) but may be punishable by death. Are you kidding?
No unfortunately they are not. Uganda where wife inheritance is common as are second wives, mistresses and general scallywag sexual behavior wants to outlaw what they deem deviant sex.

For those who know me, my faith is integral to who I am. I wear the sign of the cross always as a means of identifying and being proud of my faith. However, when sanctimonious Christian groups go over from the U.S to stir up trouble and help enforce laws Christ himself would not approve of, I want to tear my hair out. I totally understand why Christians in this country have such a bad rep.

I am also a shrink as many of you know. It seems (if you read the article) that there is still a group of people who think that counseling will "cure" homosexuality. OMG! That is as backward as leeching people to get out the evil humours.We haven't had that diagnosis since the 80's. That's like calling TB consumption.I know that Ugandans are using the latest Anti-Retrovirals to treat AIDS and that they have a rather good medical school in Kampala.

It seems to me that Uganda, Nigeria, Kenya and the rest of the African nations who want to hang, torture, jail or other punishments too unspeakable to mention here would be better served feeding their starving children and worrying about the widows.

The saddest thing for me is that when I return to Kenya in a couple of months, this subject is just not open for discussion. Worse still is that I will keep quiet about it (unless asked) because it would distract from my mission over there. I am a child of the 60's. I still want to fight back, but I am also older now, and I pick my fights more judiciously. So I put it here, and hope that those of you who read this will at least care and maybe write your congress people or newspapers and not let this story die.
It's going to be a long time before Gay Pride comes to Africa.

KAMPALA, Uganda - Proposed legislation would
impose the death penalty for some gay
Ugandans, and their family and friends could
face up to seven years in jail if they fail to report
them to authorities. Even landlords could be
imprisoned for renting to homosexuals.
Gay-rights activists say the bill, which has
prompted growing international opposition,
promotes hatred and could set back efforts to combat HIV/AIDS. They
believe the bill is part of a continentwide backlash because Africa's gay
community is becoming more vocal.
"It's a question of visibility," said David Cato, who became an activist
after he was beaten up four times, arrested twice, fired from his
teaching job and outed in the press because he is gay. "When we come
out and ask for our rights, they pass laws against us."
Story continues below ↓
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The legislation has drawn global attention from activists across the
spectrum of views on gay issues. The measure was proposed in Uganda
following a visit by leaders of U.S. conservative Christian ministries that
promote therapy for gays to become heterosexual. However, at least
one of those leaders has denounced the bill, as have some other
conservative and liberal Christians in the United States.
The Ugandan legislation in its current form would mandate a death
sentence for active homosexuals living with HIV or in cases of
same-sex rape. "Serial offenders" also could face capital punishment,
but the legislation does not define the term. Anyone convicted of a
homosexual act faces life imprisonment.
Anyone who "aids, abets, counsels or procures another to engage of
acts of homosexuality" faces seven years in prison if convicted.
Landlords who rent rooms or homes to homosexuals also could get
seven years and anyone with "religious, political, economic or social
authority" who fails to report anyone violating the act faces three
years.
The bill is still being debated and could undergo changes before a vote,
which hasn't yet been set. But gay-rights activists abroad are focusing
on the legislation. A protest against the bill is planned for Thursday in
London; protests were held last month in New York and Washington.
Influenced by Western lifestyle?
David Bahati, the legislator sponsoring the bill, said he was encouraging
"constructive criticism" to improve the law but insisted strict measures
were necessary to stop homosexuals from "recruiting" schoolchildren.
"The youths in secondary schools copy everything from the Western
world and America," said high school teacher David Kisambira. "A good
number of students have been converted into gays.

Uganda's ethics minister, James Nsaba Buturo, said the death sentence clause would probably be reviewed but maintained the law was necessary to counter foreign influence. He said homosexuality "is not natural in Uganda," a view echoed by some Ugandans.

"I feel that the bill is good and necessary, but I don't think gays should be killed. They should be imprisoned for about a year and warned never to do it again. The family is in danger in Uganda because the rate at which vice is spreading is appalling," said shopkeeper John Muwanguzi.

Uganda is not the only country considering anti-gay laws. Nigeria, where homosexuality is already punishable by imprisonment or death, is considering strengthening penalties for activities deemed to promote it. Burundi just banned same-sex relationships and Rwanda is considering it.

You can read the whole article on MSNBC/Africa

The Tree That Ate MotherMadrigal

2009-12-06T15:17:00.000-08:00

Tree Owning Car

Christmastime is upon me, and concurrently on some of my friends and the cats. Last night was the tree trimming party, an annual occasion of mirth, ornaments and a bit of alcohol.
This year, as each guest entered they remarked on the size of the tree sitting on my car. One person actually asked if the tree was going to keep the car. Yes, it was huge, it was beyond any adjective one could think of for it's girth, it's breathtaking limbs, or the size of the double trunk. Since I am the weasel that gets other people to put the tree up, I failed to notice that the trunk of the tree might present some engineering difficulties. Oh, well, there were several engineers coming, they could surely handle it.

Tree Owning People

With much grunting, pulling, swearing, wetness and scraped open skin, the tree was launched into the main parlor. The smell of fresh pine was delicious, the cocktails made everyone's spirit bright, and we were into it. The struggle was only beginning. I had gotten the Green Giant of tree holders online. I knew that I had to have something to hold a 12' tree and this promised to be tip proof. They struggled, they cajoled, they used any available tool and finally the tree stood. Frankly it was so unbelievably large I feared that it could swallow a small child. It spread itself out into the room such that it felt like it had gone from owning a car to actually owning its own home.

It's Alive!!!

Hundreds of lights were strung, ornaments galore were placed on the outreached boughs, gold ribbon twirled around the tree and glass icicles gave the treat the verisimilitude of an outdoor tree. It was beyond a creation as we stood back to admire it. And then came Boomer; one lap around the tree for good measure and all of a sudden this behemoth came crashing towards the floor. Richard, who perhaps had more good spirit than most of us, made an amazing catch as the sound of glass reverberated in the air.

And So This is Christmas

This was the time when most of the guests had either left or were leaving. Only Richard, Megan and myself remained amid the shambles. But Richard and Megan have such phenomenal spirit that they would not let this Goliath go. At 8P, while the flakes were falling Richard went to Home Depot to get a saw (Mother just doesn't have those things, they were taken away from me long ago). I ordered pizza for all of us and wondered if the tree could be salvaged. Undaunted Richard returns with a small saw and begins the task of trying to saw off some of the gynormous trunk so it could stand again. We were all stone cold sober by now. Richard sweating away with the saw, my wondering if this was a good idea and Megan throwing in ideas for how to wrestle the puppy into order.

And Just What Did I Do You Fools!!

By 9:30P the tree, now 5 feet shorter, stood with its outstretched arms once again enticing us to decorate it again. And so we did..but for good measure the tree is also bolted into the walls in case Boomer wants to make a return lap.

Ahhhh Jello

2009-12-01T14:40:00.000-08:00

I wish I had some small marshmallows, and maraschino cherries. They would have been perfect for the jello I just made. Jello; the mere word makes most young people including my children shiver in disgust and hit the highway as soon as possible. It quivers, it is clear and I have missed it. I have not made jello in 30 years, but one of the boxes for the Thanksgiving baskets got left on the counter and I couldn't resist.

I started the kettle to boil the water, got out the right princess bowl (from the 40's of course) and cleaned the little aluminum molds that helped entice an entire generation to eat something even my late basset hound wouldn't touch. (Trust me I tried. She didn't like marshmallows either)

Jello was fun! It was what was for desert most nights. And oh the combinations of things one could put into the shimmering dish. Chopped celery, raisins, mandarin oranges, minced pineapple, shredded carrots, the list is almost infinite.It could be used for a salad with the peas and carrots floating in a sea of green goo, for a fun side dish with olives and pimentos carousing with red jello. or jumpin and jivin with the myriad of fruits, nuts and sweet nothings that one could mix into it before putting it into the refrigerator to let it cool and get that gelatinous touch needed to make it wiggle.

There was, however, one dish of jello I refused to eat. It was called tomato aspic. My grandmother, a lovely gentlewoman from the South, had very fixed ideas about what was acceptable or not acceptable to eat at lunch. Chicken salad, egg salad, tuna, or a delicate sandwich with the crusts trimmed off were a yes, hamburgers or spaghetti were for truck drivers and definitely no. What was considered the queen of luncheon fare was her favorite... crab meat in tomato aspic. There was a special aluminum mold for this frightening dish. It was circular so that the tomato jello made a circle around the unsuspecting crab meat ("always leave a little shell in it dear, then they know it's fresh"). Mayonnaise was placed in the well first and then the crab meat. It was a horror to me and a disagreement my grandmother and I never resolved although I still have the aspic mold. Hmmm...I wonder what I'm doing with that.

So tonight I shall have a small cup of orange jello. No fruit cocktail handy I had to chop up some lychees to put in, I couldn't let the little fellow go naked. And I will remember a time when we had everything with butter, we dressed for dinner, and there was never enough whipped cream on top of the JELLO.

P.S So I go on the web to find a good photo of jello and I get this one. I hope you can read the writing. This confection is made with jello, yogurt and gummy bears. OMG!

World AIDS Day

2009-11-30T13:13:00.000-08:00

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!