The Mara 3

More animals from the Mara.

The Mara 2

More animals from the Mara.

The Mara

These are photos from Masai Mara, Kenya's foremost Game Park.

Christmas in Kenya

From December 22nd to the New Year, I'm blessed and fortunate enough to have my family with me. What follows are words from my mother about our experience here with Kenyan children in Kikuyu, a small village outside of Nairobi. Being with my family and sharing our time with various Kenyans made for wonderful fellowship; one I'm just beginning to put into words.


The first week we spent primarily engaged in mission outreach with more than eighty needy children. It was physically and emotionally challenging. Most days a warm shower was elusive and we were falling asleep by 9:00 p.m [when we weren’t playing cards as a family or up talking]. Yet, I also realize that my time in Kenya was a remarkable personal Sabbath; a break from the oppressive consumerism and secularization of Christmas— the constant commercials, the garish store decorations and overwhelming materialism. In Kenya we experienced no frenzy of holiday shopping around us, no circling of parking lots, no pervasive muzak, no shortness of tempers.

It struck us that from the time we arrived December 21, until the day we left January 1, we heard only one reference to Santa. Some boys at the Wee School were washing their football (soccer) jerseys in preparation for an upcoming game. They had three pails of water on the ground, and were robust in their immersing and scrubbing and rinsing. One of the boys playfully put suds around the lower half of his face, and looked up at us saying, “See, I’m Father Christmas!”

There was no talk of Santa or presents, and yet we interacted with children of varied means everyday. The children asked nothing of us but to hold their hand or jump rope with them, kick the soccer ball or get Evans to clasp their arms and swing them around. They were truly grateful for the T-shirts we brought them from you at Westminster, the puppet theatre we constructed while there, the puppets made for them by our Youth Club kids, but more than anything they valued the time we spent with them—our mere presence.

In the original Hebrew, Sabbath literally means “to cease.” At its best Sabbath allows us to stop, to get away from work and busyness, and to experience God’s grace in simply being. Kenya afforded us a remarkable escape from the Christmas hype here at home. It was a tremendous gift to experience Christmas not as a shopping extravaganza replete with indulgent celebrations, but as a time of reconnection with God, others, and our own souls.



In one journal entry I wrote:
“Perhaps I’m clarifying the need to reclaim Christmas from our commercialist consumer society—to restore Christmas to a family and faith centered celebration. Not to overlook or ignore the lonely or homebound, the poor, hurting or needy, but to try to distance ourselves from malls and excess. It feels like one has to leave town (or one’s country!) in order to find this.”

Kenya gave us a taste of a simpler, dare I say more meaningful, Christmas. In our time spent being together as a family and forming new friendships, we continuously felt the powerful presence and peace of Immanuel—Godwithus.

Grace and gratitude,
Anne

Mat Ride

Dodging people while walking purposefully, I navigated the streets of downtown Nairobi with ease. I approached a tinted, thumping matatu (or simly "mat") parked on a side street. Peering in, I saw a couple of people sitting inside. The conductors, young men with red vests who collect the fares on these small vans, pulled me on the shoulder to get inside. "Westlands! Mbao! Mbao!"

While I was headed to Westlands and thought the price fair (20 Kshs, or about 25 cents), I knew they wouldn't leave until the mat was full. As I stood there waiting non-chalantly in my sunglasses and baseball cap, a few women passed me to get on board. With a few spots left, I decided to board. The Kenyan passengers simply sat there, as if the bumping music wasn't shaking their bones or about to rattle off a piece of the mat.

No sooner had I taken my seat than a police officer appeared and began yelling at the driver through the passenger's side window. The driver immediately gunned the engine as the conductors scattered... only to reappear onboard at the next block. Adeptly dodging other cars and mats, the driver bullied us through the free-for-all traffic of Nairobi.

Soon we found ourselves stuck in the lunch-hour traffic (yet if it's business hours then there's sure to be traffic in Nairobi). Hakuna Matata: Our driver swiftly swerved off the road, creating his own way past the line of traffic along the dirt and stone path for pedestrians. People jumped out of the way as we careened past, occasionally cutting through oncoming traffic and then back off the road again.

Crouched in my crammed seat, I hung onto the seat in front of me to keep from flying side-to-side inside the mat. Every so often we'd stop and the conductor would invite more people on board. All passengers were not guaranteed a seat, much less a seat belt, despite government regulations. After a thrilling 10-minute roller coaster ride, we arrived in my neighborhood of work, Westlands. I dutifully gave my 20 bob coin to the conductor as I deboarded. "Asanti."

I thanked him for not just getting me to my destination, but doing it in thrilling, Kenyan-like fashion.

Work Closes Down

Today was my last day of work until January 9th. Many Kenyans take a long holiday during this time of year, often traveling out of town to visit relatives in outlying villages. We had a staff lunch to celebrate a great year and the upcoming break. Looking around at my co-workers, I was extremely pleased and humbled by the beautiful blessing I've received: working here in Kenya for a year at a faith-based non-government organization in issues of sustainable development. I mean, who does that? Well, currently, I do. My boss, Dan, said he was really going to work me hard next year, wanting me to travel to our various project partners throughout the region to gather stories and take photos. At the end of just 3 1/2 months in Kenya, 2 1/2 at my job, I still feel like I have yet to really begin my work here. I look forward to the upcoming break, especially with my family coming December 21st-January 1st. And yet somehow I already feel rejuvenated and ready to tackle the remaining seven months in Kenya when I return in January. This is how I feel today. May God continue to inspire with the coming of tomorrow.


A random picture of when the volunteers ate at Pampa, a restaurant for meat-lovers, and where we had our staff lunch today.

Americanism

I thought maybe by coming to Kenya I would lose some of my American ways. This was an assumption yet to be proven correct.

This week has been very busy, and I hold myself responsible. My inability to say "no" has led me into accepting way too many invitations. As I've mentioned before, Kenyan hospitality goes unsurpassed and many friends are inviting my to all types of places: youth events, safaris, remote villages, climb mountains, Maasai weddings, the coast... and going anywhere in Kenya takes between an hour and a day, depending on the roads (road quality & car quantity).

Yesterday I saw all my time thrown away with doing laundry, grocery shopping, finalizing arrangements for my parents' visit, Christmas shopping, going to a youth event, delivering a fridge and stove, finishing some work... somehow I managed to find time to talk to Emily briefly, yet only to forget that today was her birthday! It's nice dating a forgiving girlfriend, yet we all have our limits. All these things mounted up to a stress-level I hadn't felt since doing three 15+ papers in one week at Davidson! And I thought I'd left my hectic American lifestyle back where I came from...

My friend Bethuel, on our way to a youth event, asked me about the 'typical' American lifestyle. After I gave him a vary vague and generalized response, he listed to me his plans for the coming year: completing his house, finishing his PhD, getting a new and bigger car, traveling to at least one country a year... it's nice to think big, yet don't we just want something bigger than we already have?

As I mentioned, yesterday I received a huge fridge and an electric stove (with oven!). A friend was upgrading and gave me her old stuff. While much appreciative, I can't help but wonder if I'll ever be satisfied. With a fridge I could fit in and a cooking machine that doesn't need a match, I'm back to feeling like an American again. Must I always need something more in my life, be it another activity or larger appliance?

Apparently the same dog does the same tricks, regardless of local. So back I go, re-enrolling in GTS: God's Training School. "Where Miracles Are Ordinary"

Mombasa

This past weekend the young adult volunteers took a vacation. We went to Mombasa, the large and somewhat historic Kenyan coastal city. After spending the morning walking around town with our unoffical guide Mohammed, we spent the afternoon at the Wema Center where Fiona works. The rest of the weekend was spent lounging on the beach, reading in our wooden beach chairs, playing with little ones in the pool (i.e. throwing them high into the air and not letting them drown- not an easy task, yet extremely fun).

I met a lot of people on the beach, wanting me to "promote" them by buying their various wares, receiving a massage or going out on their boat. I decided I'd take them up on a few wares as Christmas gifts for my co-workers (small pieces of ebony- a hard, black wood- carved in various animal shapes and inscribed with their names).

It's always been my dream to sail on a make-shift craft in the ocean, and I finally got my chance. We (Rachel, Will, Fiona and I) went with Captain Salem, his first mate Becca and crewman Vincent on a katamaran out to the reef. Will and I snorkeled a bit, and I found at least this part of the Indian Ocean to be lacking (compared to the Caribbean and Galapagos). Yes, I'm spoiled and loving it.


Fiona poses below with the coconut hat I gave her but didn't make; that honor belongs to Robert, a beach craftsman extrordinaire.

WEMA Center

Today our missionary group visited a fellow volunteer at her place of work. The WEMA Center is an all-girls orphanage that takes girls (sometimes literally) off the streets and 'rehabilitates' them back into economically-productive and stable lives. They provide "non-formal education, vocational training, medical care, food, clothing, HIV/AIDS awareness, and counselling and spiritual guidance." From what I saw, these girls are being directly impacted in a tremendously positive way.

My friend Fiona has a Masters in social work and is doing some good and exciting things at the center. WEMA was recently recognized on an international level in New York City by the World of Children Awards with the Kellogg's Child Development Award Honoree. Fiona is helping to coordinate their new half-way house, hoping to further helps gals to cope with the tough realities on the street.

The love these girls have for Fiona was readily apparent as soon as we approached the center. They immediately latched onto her, crying out her name and saying how much they missed her. She'd only been gone since that morning. I was able to hang out with some of the girls, throwing the Frisbee and talk to them a little about their lives at the center. Their preference to speak Swahili in stead of Englis and the size of the group rather limited the conversation. After asking my name, where I came from and what I was doing in Kenya, they asked me if I had a girlfriend. It wasn't the first time (or only reason) I was thankful I could say Ndiyo: "Yes." We were able to move beyond those questions and connect on some level, and I promised to write. What I will say I'm not sure, but I'm so thankful for these girls, for the center and for what my friend Fiona is doing.

Earthquake!...?

"Am I crazy or was there just an earthquake?"

So read the text I received from my roommate, working upstairs in a building next door to mine. I hadn't felt a thing, but apparently we had: 6.8 on the Richter Scale, although many hundreds of miles away from Nairobi on the border of Tanzania and the DRC. Even though we live right beside the Great Rift Valley, which apparently stretches from Mozambique through the Middle East and up into Turkey, this area is not a region that is familiar with earthquakes.

Watching news reports that night made that quite apparent, as I felt like I knew more about earthquakes than the newscasters. Many Kenyans felt the quake in the high-rise building of downtown, some structures even showing cracks from the shock. The news reported the government response as 'lacking.' Officially, the government denied that there had even been a quake. Such is Kenyan life.

Waking Life

Daisy, my laptop, crashed once again. I had to strangle her to make her go to sleep (holding down the power button or pulling the plug). She responded by no longer reconizing me as an authorized user, and as a result I cannot log into Windows. Later that day, my desktop Stan become slower than his usual rate of 100 RPMs, going through exponential decay until I finally had to choke him, too. With my co-worker Mary in Tanzania until tomorrow, I have a computer to use for today, at least.

It's amazing what we take for granted. As I walked from one shop to the next, trying to figure out what is going on with my computers, I passed by many people on the street. Many were either lounging about or selling some random object I had no idea where they'd gotten it from. I became nautious in my stomach, not because of the smells (which I've adapted to) but the thought of how petty my troubles were.

Here in Kenya, I have been blessed with good health, nutritious food, adequate shelter, nice clothes... yet so many people here do not have these things. They wonder each day what the Lord will provide and what God will take away. They have little choice in how they feel, what they eat, where they sleep or what they wear; and therefore, they take nothing for granted.

It's like, DUH Evans! People here are poor and in need. I knew this, but I'd gotten used to it- something I hope I never get used to.

There are times when we can help. Yet when we cannot help, or feel that we cannot, our response shouldn't be to ignore the issue or take our own gifts for granted. Rather, we should keep these fellow human beings in thought and prayer, as our eyes keep adjusting to God's light in a world full of darkness.

Atman Mujahid

I met a local counselor named Atman Mutajid through my work. A Muslim originally from the coast, Atman invited me to spend the day with his family. We went to a local zoo, a school where he serves as the interim principal, his house and a local sports club. His four children accompanied us: Atman (an adopted nephew), Osama, Lukman and Raina. A very interesting man, he introduced me to coastal food, spoke of his experience of seven years living in Nigeria, refreshed my memory of Islamic history and showed me great hospitality. He even invited me to the coast for a wedding next weekend. Friends such as these are a true blessing from God (Allah). I continue to be blown away by the people God places in my life, and me in theirs.

The pictures below are the handiwork of his children, who were fascinated and eager to play with my camera.

Barber Shop

Today I got my haircut, and for the second time it was a bushwhacking. However, this go around I had someone else do it. The shop I went to was a tin shack on the edge of a busy road. I'm not sure my barber, Mwangi, had ever cut a mzungu's hair before. I just wanted a buzz, and thankfully he had electricity. When none of the attachments fit on the electric trimmer, Mwangi decide to go freestyle on me: no guard, no comb, just my head and the trimmer. With that kind of challenge, I must say he did remarkably well. I doubled his price with my tip, and still it was only about 60 cents. I gave these pictures to them the next day. Kenyans are really curious about photos, many of them never having one of their own (let alone a camera). Yet they aren't ones to smile, instead preferring to look casual or serious. I've returned twice since then, and each time there's a different guy cutting hair. I guess it's a shared shop, and perhaps men come by to earn a little money for the day when they have the chance? Still seeking understanding...

November Newsletter

"There is a certain pride in man that will give and give, but to come and accept is another thing." ~ Oswald Chambers

After traveling 40 kilometers in two hours over washed-out roads and desert brush, we arrived late in the afternoon at the Masai village. Over a hundred Masai sat underneath a huge acacia tree, attired in their traditional garb of red and purple-flannelled cloaks. Their blank faces and our smiles masked uneasy expectations. The van doors rumbled open, connecting two worlds into one.

A few male leaders introduced themselves before leading us away from the crowd to a tree some distance away. The men had slaughtered two or three goats; a tremendous gift. They might as well have given us a piece of themselves, for livestock is the Masai's livelihood. We ate the tough meat and drunk the stank stew with gut and gusto.

Returning to the crowd, we were welcomed by the Masai women. They gathered in front of us, singing and dancing in a rhythmic chant. After a few minutes they invited us to join them. I suddenly realized the lens of my camera, while allowing me to see and record the events, prevented me from fully engaging the experience. I entered among the sea of stomping and singing women, slowly relaxing into the motion of bobbing heads and a slightly squat stance. In order to understand we must stand under and stand with, requiring great respect, much humbleness and a whole lot of fun.

Afterwards, all the men sat together in the shade of the tree, while the women sat together some distance away in the sun. Many people spoke, thanking our organization for coming and installing a borehole to provide water in a very dry land. Although the drilling had been completed, only the tip of the iceberg could be seen: a plugged pipe awaiting a pump. Our hosts had brought hundreds of plastic jugs, expectantly hoping us to turn on the pump. The protruding pipe jabbed into our symbol of cooperation as a dagger of miscommunication, dashing everything save hope.

Towards the end of visit, the women presented a beaded necklace to each visitor. One group member wanted to repay their generosity immediately, placing her safari hat on the Masai woman's head. While well intentioned, the action perhaps served to remedy the imbalance of gift-giving and cancel any perceived indebtedness. How quickly we define ourselves as the giver and them as the recipient!

Just as the women welcomed us, the men bid us goodbye. A dozen young men marched together, chanting and stomping in unison. Forming a semi-circle before us, each took his turn leaping to the beat. They invited me, a fellow young man, to join them. I had been quite comfortable to take pictures rather than give into dancing, yet relationship requires response. I accepted their invitation, jumping as high and as clumsily as any American tourist ever could.

For them a relationship had begun. For us a visit had ended. As an individual joining their group in ritual dances, I wanted the relationship to continue. I've expressed this desire to others by remembering names, asking questions, making eye contact, holding hands long after the handshake... Each time I meet someone, I can either accept or reject, be accepted or rejected. If I don't take the risk of being vulnerable and possibly indebted to another's generosity, the barriers to relationship remain intact. I believe this trust comes from a loving relationship with a living God.

I do not envy the people who come to Kenya for only a week or two. I relish in the opportunity to invest in relationships, and feel blessed to be invested in by others. In relationship, no longer do I ask what I can do to solve a problem, but what we can do. Mistakes are part of the game, and I pray for courage to see my faults and accept another's forgiveness. As an American, sometimes the biggest challenge is letting go of time, realizing relationships inevitably and necessarily take time away from me.

Being an American separates me from Kenyans. I have the freedom to do what I want when I want, yet I am alone to confront the hard times of life abroad. As time passes and I form relationships with others, my experience goes much deeper than individual freedom. As I let go of my freedom, Kenyans are waiting to lovingly embrace me. And it's deeply satisfying.

"The greatest blessing spiritually is the knowledge that we are destitute; until we get there Our Lord is powerless. He can do nothing for us if we think we are sufficient of ourselves." ~ Oswald Chambers

*** I relied heavily on Anthony J. Gittins' Ministry at the Margins in developing this newsletter, specifically his chapters, "Discovering Mutuality" and " A Place for Strangers."

Elephant Orphanage

A friend, Leora, and I went to Sheldrick Elephant Orphange, one of three like it in the world. From 11am-12pm each day, visitors can come and see these orphaned animals being trained to return to the wild. Poaching is still a very real problem in this area, with tusks cashing in around $1,000 per elephant. The Kenyan Wildlife Service has done a remarkable job and elephant populations have been on the rise since the late 70's. However, cuts in funding have decreased their capability to respond to the program. Through private initiatives like Sheldrick, baby elephants are nurtured and returned to the wild.

We learned a lot of fascinating information about elephants. Elephants are a lot like humans. They need a lot of attention, and there is always a keeper with one of the elephants, 24/7/365. Yes, each one sleeps with an elephant every night. They travel an average of 30 miles a day, drink up to 50 gallons of water and eat hundreds of pounds daily. Not being able to sweat, they use their thin, fragile ears to fan their bodies and cool off. They also suck out water from their stomachs with their trunks, using the water to spray their bodies and cool off. An elephant crosses its legs while standing in order to rest. They cannot jump but are known to be adept swimmers.
Elephants have been known to bury their dead, even returning to the spot years later and holding the bones (especially the skull) as part of the grieving process. Elephants don't forget anything, remembering their trainers long after they have been returned to the wild.

Kajiado Project

Shallow lake formed by a sub-surface dam.

To give you an example of the type of work Church World Service does, I've decided to highlight a project in Kajiado. Kajiado is in Maasai land, between Nairobi and Kilimanjaro. (Kilimanjaro means "shining mountain" in Swahili. "Kili" actually meants "mount", so one should not say "Mount Kilimanjaro.") There was a drought here in 2000-01 that killed much of the livestock. To prevent this from happening again, CWS has sponsored building and rehabilitating numerous sub-surface dams in the area. Essentially, these dams are built by digging into dry riverbeds to serve as water catchments for when it rains. These dams are built large enough so that water is there year-round.

Maasai Herder: Livestock is their Livelihood.

The dams must be managed properly, however, or else they will erode away. Cattle must not walk on the dam itself. A fence is built around some of the dams to prevent contamination by animals, but this restricted access frustrates herders. Also, the waters from each rain wash silt into the dam, necessitating desilting with heavy machinery every 5-7 years. If there is an effective water managing committee, they can charge user fees and spend this money to maintain and improve the dam structure.

Joseph, the pump attendant, draws water with this diesel generator.

TD Jakes came to this area in September, supplying money for a water tank, borehole, troughs, pump and generator. Oftentimes, animals bathing in the dam water make it unsuitable for human drinking. With a borehole and generator to pump water from aquifers below, the Maasai now have ready access to safe water. They will collect user fees for humans and animals, using this money to pay for diesel to run the generator and for needed maintenance repairs .

Noah, who donated the land for the borehole, watches his wife draw water.

CWS also encourages communities like this one to use this project as an asset for investing in their own future. For instance, the group has expressed its desire to pipe water to nearby schools. Instead of asking CWS for more money, they will use the excess water pumped from the ground to grow and sell vegetables. In this way, we hope to partner with the community, empowering them to help themselves and others.

Donkeys lounge around after drinking.

"Let's go to church"

I was sitting at a matatu stop this morning, when a woman passing by looked me directly in the eye and said, "Let's go to church." Taken aback, I half-chuckled and mananged to mutter "nnmh," a Kenyan sound for agreement. Yet before I could say or do anything else, she was gone. I wanted to call after her, saying that -in fact- I am a Christian, I am going to church, and I am a volunteer missionary here in Kenya for one year. Regardless, I admired her audacity to just blurt out that statement.

And she got me thinking... what does it mean to "go to church"? If church is a community of believers, must everyone that comes first be a Christian? If church is simply a place where the presense of God is felt, then walls, fancy doors, stained-glass windows, a new organ, a steeple or cross aren't necessary. Or is it what Mother Teresa said, "You and I, we are the church, no?" Where do we find church?

I wonder if I'd already been to church. I live in a fairly well-to-do neighborhood, but that doesn't mean I don't see poverty each day. The beggars and street boys are attracted to this area exactly because there are people with money who live here. This morning, I was approached for money by a street kid. He wanted the money for hot tea. I asked if he would like crackers instead. As I reached into my bag, I saw the frisbee I was carrying. An idea popped into my head: Why not toss the frisbee this boy? I asked him if he'd ever thrown one before. He hadn't, but it didn't take him long to learn.

Almost immediately two other boys appeared, one with a bottle of glue in hand, which he'd been sniffing to stave-off the pains of hunger. They eagerly joined our game. And there we were, a well-to-do American tossing frisbee with three street boys in a parking lot that looked like it'd just been shelled. After a short while, I had to be on my way, and so I bid them good-bye, giving each a small packet of Ritz crackers.

I was on my way to church, but I couldn't help thinking: Wasn't this a picture of church?

Field Hockey Tourney

This weekend I watched two friends battle it out on the field hockey field. "Field" is a loose term in Kenya, this time meaning a level, hard-packed dirt square with chalked lines. My friends' team, the Eaglets, won their semi-final game 3-1. (Right: Cathy jukes past someone, a-gain.) In the finals they lost a heart-breaker in overtime 2-1 when a girl on the opposing side kicked the ball in (it's illegal to touch the ball with anything but your stick). I think the referees were tired and just wanted the game to end. I've never been one to watch field hockey, but I enjoyed watching my friends play and even got riled up with the poor officiating. But maybe that's just me when I watch sports. I also brought my frisbee along and made a few friends teaching them how to throw. I'm beginning to feel more 'at home' here in Kenya, as I make friends and get involved in daily Kenyan life.

Njeri inbounds the ball.

Constitutional Referendum

This week Kenyans went to the polls to vote on a proposed constitution. Currently they use the one left over from independence in 1963. The main flaw in the old one is an imbalance of power between the executive and other branches of government. The proposed constitution fails to address this issue, although it does promote women's and land rights- two important issues that should be addressed as proposed bills in the legislature.

On Monday the 21st, Kenyans rejected the proposed constitution, 57-43%, with 55% of registered voters casting their ballot. The President and his administration had backed the proposed constitution, so its defeat did not bode well for the remaining two years of office. On Wednesday, the President sacked his entire cabinet, promising to reinstate a new one within two weeks. The opposition parties are pushing for him to dissolve Parliament as well, forcing elections much sooner than the present date in 2007.

So far things have been relatively peaceful. Life goes on, and for most people nothing has changed. As the politicians bicker and banter back and forth, the everyday person struggles to survive.

UPDATE: The President has dissolved parliament until further notice, and the opposition party is making demands for elections while holding outlawed rallies around the nation. As my coworker Mary remarked, "We no longer have a government." Still, life goes on and I see little change in people's lives. Please pray that all works out for the better.

American Traditions: MNF, Chinese & Tgiving Dinners

Today I went over to a friend's house, a Disciples of Christ missionary, to watch the Green Bay Packers take on the Minnesota Vikings in Monday Night Football... at 5 PM our time, Tuesday. An exciting game ended 20-17 when the Vikings kicked a game-winning field-goal. The satellite feed was interrupted numerous times, perhaps since it was a taped show on European ESPN broadcast through South Africa. Afterwards we went out for Chinese.

The day before we had Thanksgiving Dinner at our site coordinator's house: complete with pumpkin souflet, apple pie, string beans, stuffing and a huge turkey. There were no sweet or mashed potatoes; however, with any luck we'll have them in our SECOND T-GIVING DINNER on Friday... at another missionary's house.

So, family & friends partaking in a Thanksgiving Holiday weekend: Know that I am in good hands as we American missionaries take the week to celebrate many an American Tradition.

Birthday Celebration

Today I hosted a birthday party for David, a friend of mine. I had wanted to make something American for all my guests, but with only a basic gas stove I decided to stick with something easy: stew, chapati & ugali. A friend of his, Nightingale, came over early to help me cook. I really enjoyed talking to her, especially when I discovered she was in a long-distance relationship herself. We exchanged dreams, hopes & concerns, and I found it very therapeutic to find commonalities.

The guests trickled in. The other volunteers came over first, including my roommate Will, as well as Andrea, Rachel, Brian & Katie. My two friends who played field hockey came over, Cathy & Njeri. Then finally David's friends came over: Sara, his girlfriend, Ken and James. Surprisingly, we had more than enough food to share with the guards! People mingled and ate, before we shut out the lights and I announced David as if he were a Chicago Bulls player. We made him dance for us for quite some time before we served dessert: coke floats. So at least they got something American.

Later we moved the party to the Klub House, or K1; a nice, two-level bar nearby made of large wooden beams. I split my time talking with my friends, playing pool with James, dancing with da ladies (sorry, no pics) and watching my favorite team, Barcelona, kick the tar out of Real Madrid, 3-0. And to top it all off, the bar tab was just over $20 for nine people! I must say, it was a fabulous night.

Apparently, Kenyans don't make a big deal out of birthdays. Marriages and funerals are a much bigger deal, as they are in the States, but birthdays not at all. It was David's 23rd birthday, and his first birthday celebration. I was more than happy to share it with him and our friends.

A Woman's Experience

I arrived today at a school on the outskirts of Nairobi. The school, Mutuini, is part of our School Safe Zones (SSZ) initiative. The idea is to make schools safer for children, in hopes parents will feel confident leaving their children there for the day. So far we have provided money for a new gate and fence around the school, as well as some toilet and water catchment repairs. Our hope is that these improvements would not only improve the school's facilities, but also inspire students, teachers and parents alike to further support the school in whatever way they can.Accompanied by some local leaders, we had a meeting with the parents in the school. About 90% of those present were women, many carrying children. I was told that many - if not most - of the homes in this area were female, single-headed househoulds. There are many reasons for this, and traditionally the African man works outside of the house, going into the city, while the woman stays at home to do important housework. These women had walked many miles to arrive for this meeting; to sit in the hot sun, listen to various people talk, and have some white guy take their picture.
Many people gave speeches, and many more listened. My coworker Sarah thanked the parents for coming, saying how they were an integral part to the initiative. A representative from the government stressed the importance of education in poverty reduction. Two counselours spoke about alcoholism, one treating it as a disease and the other as lack of affection in the home. I had known that alcoholism was a problem, but was surprised at how matter-of-factly the community admitted women were routinely beaten by their husbands.

Who knows what awaits the return of these women: countless tasks when she is already exhausted from walking so far, a husband who is angry that dinner isn't ready yet, a child whimpering on the floor from the pain of a water-borne disease. The time spent going to this meeting might have prevented one woman from drawing water that day, another from selling a few pastries to pay for school supplies, and one more from preparing a meal.


I hope it was worthwhile.

A Typical Day in the Office

I've decided to do a 'bland' entry today, simplying writing about what my day looks like when I'm not traveling around to our various project sites. The purpose of this email is two-fold: to give some point of reference to those of you interested in what I do on a daily basis, and to hold myself accountable to whatever is I should be doing.

I arrive at work around 8:30 AM. After greeting the few co-workers already there, I turn on my computer. I then spend the next 10 to 15 minutes readying my daily devotionals - Daily Light and My Utmost for His Highest - as well as a few bible passages, occassionally writing in my journal. I then say a short prayer, sharing my thoughts, goals and worries for the day with God.

For the next hour or so I will read email, write a few of my own, and browse some websites (including this one). I then will begin working on numerous projects: articles for a newsletter, emails to a project partner, human interest stories, typing up notes from project visits, organizing photos from trips, downloading useful programs (like converting files to .pdf), ETC - end of thought capacity. I like to multi-task, and unfortunately my desktop computer doesn't like it when I have open AOL IM, MS Word, MS Publisher, Picasa, and Internet Explorer; not to mention how many windows of each. So some of my time is spent waiting on ol' slug-butt here to get on with it.

Often I am easily distracted by a co-worker, who tends to ask one of three questions (or all three):
- Habari yako? (How are you?)
- Would you like to come with me to [place] to do [action]?
- I want to do [this] on my computer. Can you show me how?

For example, yesterday I was invited to a school to take pictures at a parents' meeting. Invariably, we'll pick up some other people involved in our work and take longer than expected. I enjoy this, however, as I get to meet new people and get out of the office. Today I helped Sammy, my co-worker in the Emergency Response Program department, find some photos from last year and insert them into Word. Usually I pack a lunch, but today I was invited to each lunch with some partners at our office for a meeting. Luckily, I haven't had to attend too many meetings thus far.

All of my co-workers are very hard-working, competent Kenyans and I thoroughly enjoy working with them. Since I don't make direct decisions about the projects themselves, I play a more observer role rather than participant. Even so, I enjoy listening and helping out where I can.

Aerobics

Today I went to Kikuyu, a small town outside of Nairobi. When my family comes over Christmas, we will be volunteering at an orphanage here, building a puppet theater, playing games and enjoying time with the children. I had only been there once before, yet the Kenyans warmly welcomed me to their home. I'm very excited about working with them and spending a week in a close Kikuyu community.

My friend and fellow volunteer, Rachel (or Lachel, as her students say her name), invited me to Aerobics class... at an all-girls academy. All I can say is, doing aerobics in boots and jeans is awkward enough. Afterwards we stumbled upon a high school girls function. I thought it was a dance party, but apparently they were just pre-partying before a movie screening. I showed 'em a few of my mzungu moves before piecin' out, straight thug-struttin'.

David, our aerobics instructor and the only other male in the class, walked home with us and mentioned that it was his birthday in a few days. Being pumped-up from the dancing, I suggested he come to Nairobi Saturday and take us to the bumpin' clubs; my treat. As we parted, he exclaimed he had never celebrated his birthday before. I hope everything works out and we can have a lil' shindig for him.

Lake Nakuru Game Park

After completing our safari (literally "journey" in Kiswahili) across Kenya, we ended at Lake Nakuru Game Park for what we Americans traditionally call a safari. The game reserve is one of the most accessible, surrounding a shallow lake. I was told its deepest point was only 10 feet. Enjoy.

How many monkeys in the photo?

Waterbucks: Postcard, anyone?

Flamigo Party, Lake Nakuru

White Rhino
(name not based on skin color but something to do with mouth)

Pelicans do a fly-over