Back to the Mara

It has been a long time since i have been out. I mean, i have gone to check out what is happening, for meetings, and short visits... but not for a full trip. I just got back from 3 weeks in SIkirar :) a community which we have just begun working with this year.

This community is predominately Masai, with sprinklings of Kipsigis and Kisii. The school was started only a few years ago, so the primary school only goes to class three. The nursery A has 99 students, and nursery B has about 60. classes 1-3 have about 120 students combined... and they are all working within two buildings.

upon arrival, we were greeted with hundreds of screaming, laughing, and smiling children... small children, with no upper classes, i feel like quite a giant amongst the little ones.

The group worked on two new classrooms, one getting close to completion, the other walls are just beginning... and along the way they fell in love with the students of Sikirar.



I also fell in love... not the type of love that i have for my significant other, but a different kind.... one particular student grabbed my attention on our first days with the community. He was very small, class 1, and calm. While the other students were screaming with excitement, chasing soccer balls, and reaching for whatever hands they could grab, this boy was just sitting quietly. My friend and I went up to talk to him, and we were well received. He began to play with us, counting rocks, making drawings in the dirt, etc. Before long, he was sitting on our laps, snuggling, speaking KiMasaai (which neither of us understood). From that day, every time we saw him, he would come quietly, hold my hand, whisper words i didn't understand... and just be with me. Each day i would head to the school to see this boy... i have a deep love and caring for all of the children i meet in Kenya, but there was just something special about this boy... anyway, here he is...

So the story goes on... on our last day in the community, we had a surprise visit by some members of the Kenya Boys Choir and the Canadian rockers Hedley!! They dropped by in their hunt for a goat, and played a few songs for us. So the school was madness! everyone dancing, singing along, hugging... and i lost track of my favorite boy. I didn't get to see him before we headed out. I was a bit sad... everyone was saying goodbye to those students that they had become close to, and i couldn't find him...

The good news is... i am heading back to SIkirar at the beginning of July, I will find my friend when i get there. Until then, i will keep him in my thoughts, and picture him learning in the new classrooms we have helped to build.

Mount Kenya!

Last week i did something I never thought I would EVER do. I climbed Mount Kenya. Now, it wasn't something i set out to plan, organize and do... and it isn't even something that i have ever thought of before...

Virgin Atlantic has been doing a HEAP of fundraising for our projects in rural Kenya, and they are fabulous. As one of their fundraising efforts, they got a crew of 60 together to climb the mountain (crazy... yes, but awesome). they raised over 34,000 pounds for a village called sikirar.

Anyway, they needed someone to climb with them from my organization, so i said sure! i had no idea what a mountain climb was about... i didn't have the right clothes (even though sitting in my closet in Canada was a perfect climbing ensemble), or the proper mentality (or training) heading in. Please don't think i am making excuses... i am just being realistic.

So we set off with the crew from Virgin to a beautiful camp in Sagana. some bungee jumped, rafted, napped, a really beautiful place :) the next morning we set off by car to the Sirimon gate, where we would be climbing from.

The first day was nice, perfect temperature, leisurely climb, got to know some great people... about 5 hours later, we were at the camp. We laughed and sang the night away... unaware at what was to come (haha... sounds like a horror movie).

we woke up around 7 am to head out for a long days climb... more like a hike. Through valleys, over hills, and through an infamous vertical BOG. What is a vertical bog you ask? just like it sounds... have you ever watched Most Extreme elimination challenge? well, there is one game called sinkers or floaters... that is what it was like. We walked through deep mud, trying to find pods of grass that would keep us on top... then once in a while, there might be one that doesnt hold up and you find yourself up to your knee in MUD. anyway... we climbed and climbed...and then we finally reached the point where we could see Lenana (the peak we were climbing). it was beautiful and snow covered. By this point, it started to be cold... but i thought, i am canadian... i can handle it :)

We walked for about 9-10 hours that day to our next camp, got settled in for a chilly and short sleep (if you can even call it that). they woke us up at 2 am to summit. It was pitch black, and COLD. We started climbing, each one with their own headlamp. it didn't take long for us to warm up, as we were climbing almost straight up! in the pitch black it was a bit strange because you couldnt see what was ahead or even side to side. about two hours into climbing...sooo, 4 am about... it started to snow, hail, and rain all at once. It also got cold. we kept going. another hour later, and i couldn't feel my hands, and i was walking on what felt like gravel. One step up and you would slip down a half step... very frustrating. I am slow... so people took off ahead...my headlamp was dying a slow death... and i was slipping backwards more than i felt i was moving up. So i yelled to my friends ahead that i didn't think i could do it... being great friends they encouraged me and told me they would wait however long it took... really nice and great.... but i wasn't convinced. I stood on that mountain and really felt as though my legs couldn't move, and my hands would never make it.

Just as i seriously thought about turning around and going back... i heard footsteps coming from beside me... then a warm hand grabbed mine, tucked it under his arm, and began to walk me up the mountain. His name was Martin. From that point on, he didn't let go. He whispered words of broken english encouragement in my hear and step by step... he stayed with me. he was kind, understanding, gentle... and small... and he stayed with me. slowly by slowly he brough me up the mountain. we caught my friends, and we all walked together.

The conditions were terrible, and we couldn't even see anything when we got to the top... but I was soo thankful for Martin for bringing me up. If it weren't for him, i would have never gone up!

The sun came up, the snow kept blowing, and then we headed down. it is a good thing you summit in the dark... because if i had seen where we were climbing on the way up... not even Martin could have helped me... it was crazy!

we walked 16 hours that summit day... and getting back to camp was amazing... it snowed most of the way back... but then 3 hours before camp, the sun came out!! i have never been soo happy for sun. We dried out (reasonably) and drank warm soup and tea until bed :)

the next day we walked back to that very same gate, but this time it was far more beautiful :)

it is now 5 days later... it is still hard to sit.... my big toe is numb... my face is peeling... but I feel great!

Virgin Atlantic proved to be the most inspiring group of people i have met. None of them have even seen the village for whilch they are fundraising... and they did all of that. If a few more companies could show this same responsibility and passion, wow, things would change fast!

Kenya again

I really can’t believe I am back.

4 months in Canada flew by. I had such great times reconnecting with all of my family and friends, and the holidays were a blast. Leaving, as always, gave me a strange feeling of sadness combined with excitement for what was to come. I had a tearful experience at the security gate at the airport, and during my first flight it felt as though my head and heart were still in Canada.

Waiting for my connecting flight in Amsterdam, I began to remember all of the things I really loved from my previous stint in Kenya. I thought about the students I would see, taller and more mature than the year before. I remembered the mamas that make the villages thrive even in tough times. I thought of the once dry fields that have recently been pelted with rain… and I began to get excited. From the moment stepping onto my second flight, the mood changed. I realized I would always miss my family, my friends… but this is where I am meant to be.

Stepping off the plane, I felt the warmth of the Kenyan air… different from the 30 below that was at pearson airport. I felt at home.

I left the next day to head out to the Mara… for the first time by plane J The drive is usually anywhere from 4-8 hours, so you can imagine how great it was to get there in 45 minutes… and to see the sights from high above. Very cool.

I wrote last season about the drought that has been taking its toll on the people in the rural communities where we work. It has been a number of years where there have not been adequate rains to sustain even one full harvest, leaving most people in very challenging times. Starting a few weeks ago, the rains began. Although it is not typically a planting season, the locals have taken full advantage and most people can be found rotating from field to field hoping to reap the benefits.

Driving in this time, the usual yellow, dry fields… were green. Plants were flowering where I have never seen them before, and the children seemed a bit thicker… what life the rain can bring.

Anyway… I am back. It feels great.

Kenya again

I really can’t believe I am back.

4 months in Canada flew by. I had such great times reconnecting with all of my family and friends, and the holidays were a blast. Leaving, as always, gave me a strange feeling of sadness combined with excitement for what was to come. I had a tearful experience at the security gate at the airport, and during my first flight it felt as though my head and heart were still in Canada.

Waiting for my connecting flight in Amsterdam, I began to remember all of the things I really loved from my previous stint in Kenya. I thought about the students I would see, taller and more mature than the year before. I remembered the mamas that make the villages thrive even in tough times. I thought of the once dry fields that have recently been pelted with rain… and I began to get excited. From the moment stepping onto my second flight, the mood changed. I realized I would always miss my family, my friends… but this is where I am meant to be.

Stepping off the plane, I felt the warmth of the Kenyan air… different from the 30 below that was at pearson airport. I felt at home.

I left the next day to head out to the Mara… for the first time by plane J The drive is usually anywhere from 4-8 hours, so you can imagine how great it was to get there in 45 minutes… and to see the sights from high above. Very cool.

I wrote last season about the drought that has been taking its toll on the people in the rural communities where we work. It has been a number of years where there have not been adequate rains to sustain even one full harvest, leaving most people in very challenging times. Starting a few weeks ago, the rains began. Although it is not typically a planting season, the locals have taken full advantage and most people can be found rotating from field to field hoping to reap the benefits.

Driving in this time, the usual yellow, dry fields… were green. Plants were flowering where I have never seen them before, and the children seemed a bit thicker… what life the rain can bring.

Anyway… I am back. It feels great.

Back in Canada

That is where I am, back in Canada. It has been fabulous reconnecting with my parents, family, friends... catching up on local news, family ups and downs, and really just catching up. I am currently supply teaching in my old school board, until I return to Kenya after Christmas.

This past weekend was great, I am actually still recovering from Thanksgiving overload... turkey, stuffing, squash, asparagus, potatoes... and of course pumpkin pie. I had a great time, and the food was delicious, but I really can't help but think of those that I know in Kenya.

As I have mentioned before, and you may have heard on the news, Kenya (and most of Sub-Saharan Africa) is dealing with drought... serious drought. Now drought in this case doesn't mean that it is not raining at all, it rained from time to time throughout the typical rainy season. However, the rains were not even comparable to what is necessary to grow enough crops to sustain a family, let alone yield enough to sell and create income for a household.

This situation is reaching a very critical point. Because of this, the cost of food has skyrocketed making it nearly impossible for most families to meet nutritional requirements. Cows, goats, and sheep are not getting enough to eat, they cannot be sold, so the farmers cannot generate income for their families. Mamas and young girls are forced to walk further and further in search of dirty rivers and hopeful springs... without much luck.

So you can understand why it is hard to be in Canada. A place where we turn the tap, and water is there. Where I open the fridge and ponder what I should eat next. A place where I know I will not go to bed hungry.

Just as I was leaving Kenya, the organization I work for had begun to drill bore holes (deeeeeep wells) to serve the communities where we work. They had successfully hit water at two sites by that time and were continuing the projects while we are away... This is a HUGE step towards proper sanitation and health while the drought runs its course.

Anyway, when I hear how those wells are going, I will let you know.

Just a bit of insight into what being back in Canada is like.

until next time :)

Countdown

i can't believe how fast time is going.

It has been soo long since i have been on to write. Seems that being in the mara with no internet makes it a bit challenging... anyway. I am back. I only have one adult trip and one youth trip left before I board the plane to go back to Canada.

Because the time is coming soo quickly, i can't help but think about the things that I will miss when I go... the things that make Kenya such a special place to me. I have never felt more comfortable with myself than i do here. The children at the schools, the mamas in the villages... they don't care what type of clothes you are wearing, or how much you have spent on your outfit. They look right past that to your intentions... your values, and how respected you are depends entirely on how you treat people... just the way it should be.

The word i have heard the most here... by far, is Karibu. Karibu means welcome. The people i have met, and the places I have gone... I have felt more welcome than anywhere else (aside from my own parent's home). I love it...

All I can think of is how I want my family to come and see everything that we do here, and everyone who has made my stay sooo powerful and meaningful.

Anyway, until next time... i will try to write before I go again.

Visit to Kibera

Kibera is Sub Saharan Africa's largest slum. It is estimated that there are between 800,000 and 1.2 million people living there. It has no plumbing or sanitation. It has no system of garbage removal. All those people are living in one square mile. On one side of the square mile of tin roofs and garbage piles there is a golf course... where Nairobi's most wealthy swoon their clients. The other side is a row of beautiful new condos.

Kibera has become its own city inside of Nairobi. It has its own set of rules, its own business sector, and it operates on its own.

I had the opportunity to tour Kibera with an organization called KCYP (Kibera Community Youth Programme). The organization works to inspire youth in Kibera through their talents. There are projects for visual arts, audio recording, drama, and education.

We started by overlooking the community by standing on the railroad tracks to get a birds eye view. It really was startling. I couldn't believe the number of people crammed into such a small space without many of the things we call "necessities". The garbage lined the tracks as we walked further into the slum.

I was overwhelmed by the smell; burning garbage, rotting garbage, and human waste... quite a combination. I was also surprised by the children that were around... not in school. although there are many schools within the slum... they still require uniforms, books, and examination costs that many families just can afford.

As we walked through children yelled "MZUNGU!" (kiswahili for foreigner) at the top of the lungs to alert everyone that we were there. If you want a good idea of what it is like, watch the Constant Gardener movie... the representation of Kibera's youth is quite accurate.

There are many reasons why people end up in a place like Kibera, many of which I don't know if i will ever understand. Many come from the rural areas... they are farmers who are deeply affected by drought. They are no longer able to make a living in the dry rural areas and so they come to Kibera looking for opportunity. What they find is something quite different.

Although they are living in conditions that are far below what Canadians might deem as sanitary, safe, and acceptable, i was surprised that at the end of our tour, I was left with an overwhelming sense of hope. The people I met were working hard to spread their messages of love, community, safe sex... and many others through their music, artwork, and dramatic presentations.

Although the Kenyan government shows some concern for the conditions and growth of Kibera (there is no more land allotment... even though it is getting bigger in population), it does not seem to be a high priority. There are over 200 NGO's presently operating in Kibera...

i unfortunately have no answers for this community, but please feel free to visit the website of KCYP, or research on your own. www.kcyp.net