Sharing a Vision

I've been invited by the teacher of Room 8 at Pomaria Primary School to share the vision of 42forWater and my blog. Room 8 are looking at ways to fund a LifeStraw Family filtration unit. 
This is a class that blog their learning and class events daily, I invite you to go take a look, these are the future of our global community 
http://room8pomaria.blogspot.co.nz

"It's the greatest of all mistakes to do nothing because you can only do a little, 

Do what you can"

- Sydney Smith

10 LifeStraw Family Units Pledged

To date there has been 10 units pledged, we are quarter of the way to the target of 42, with just 77 days to go.  Somedays I'm thinking

"Yay 10 units, we're a quarter of the way" then the next I'm thinking 

"Oh no, only ten units, I'm never going to hit that elusive 42"

I anticipate (more like secretly praying) that like with most things, there will be a flurry of pledges as the actual event draws closer, and suddenly the pledges will go through the roof.

Did somebody mention that it's only 77 Days until the marathon..... Now I'm officially scared.

Last week I had what seemed like genuine interest from the physio that I saw for some work on my leg and knee, I'm also hoping to spread the word at the gym where I train.

I've also sourced some nice tops that I'm going to have printed for myself, and some fantastic friends who have offered to support me through this event.  I will have them printed with the logo and the tag line "Running for Water" 

Whilst I think about it, I would like to make it quite clear that any promotional costs that are incurred are funded directly out of my own pocket. I do not and never have incorporated these expenses into the fundraising targets.  When I ask for a specific dollar value for single unit, that is the price I've been quoted by the supplier/distributor that I will be charged.  If at the time of payment I'm lucky enough to get a discount in the unit price all that will happen, is I will purchase additional units.  These units will then be directly acknowledged as purchased by the current donors.

Below are a few images taken by the German charity HHF (Hardcore Help Foundation) of their LifeStraw Family distribution late in 2013.  HHF have generously offered to assist with the shipping of all units donated through the 42forWater campaign.

 

It's proving so much harder this time

"Why is it so much harder to get traction with this campaign than it was with the last one?" hmmmmmm that's a question I've been asking myself a lot this past month,

And it was whilst out running on Saturday (long run day) that under the beating sun, dripping in sweat, and snot the answer finally dawned on me.

Who said a heat addled, dehydrated brain can't do some good thinking? Personally I come up with loads of great thoughts whilst running, one small problem I seldom can remember them when I get home... but this one I do remember, this time is harder for a variety of reasons;

• One, there is no novelty factor, last time it was all new, it was a bit different knowing somebody who was going off to work in some random place in Kenya, people bought into the whole idea, but this time, I'm sure some people must be thinking "Oh there goes Jacqui again, off to save the world." when the truth is, last time I had passion, drive and determination, but little actual knowledge of what I was facing.  This time I have passion, drive, determination and a much better understanding of where I can direct this energy.  This time there is a very specific focus. 

• Secondly, this time around I'm asking people to give dollars, I'm asking for people to believe in a product, not a person.  I'm not delivering these devices, I can't afford a flight to Kenya at the moment, so I'm partnering with a German charity that I worked with last year and they have generously offered to ship the units in their container. 

• And thirdly, and this is the biggie I believe, this time not only am I putting all this effort into generating support, I'm also training my backside off to be able to complete my part of the deal.  

And lets make this very clear, I'm no athlete, I'm nothing other than a very regular, everyday, fairly fit, 44 year old woman who has pledged to complete a marathon in return for  the backing of water filtration devices.  

Here's a thought...... If you can only afford half a LifeStraw Family unit, that's perfectly okay, there will be other people that can only afford half too, why not share the cost with them, I'm not fussy, how we do this, I just want 42 units to go to Nakuru and give safe drinking water to families that  need it.

42forWater

Those of you that know me personally or via Facebook, will know I've pledged to complete the 2014 Rotorua Marathon on May 3rd in the name of clean water.  Please understand I'm not a runner, I've never run a marathon before and I envisage run/walking this one, my goal is to complete not set speed records, I'm just a fit person with a passion to make a difference in the lives of others.

In an effort to generate renewed interest around my campaign I've renamed my blog and Facebook pages to reflect this...

42forWater 

Through 42forWater I intended to get sponsorship in the form of water filtration devices.  A minimum of 42 units to be precise.  
42 LifeStraw Family water filtration devices one for every kilometre of the marathon.  
That's 42 families gaining access to clean safe water.

A LifeStraw family unit costs $100 and will give a family of five people clean safe drinking water for three years.  Water borne illness is the leading cause of death across Africa, more children miss school because of illness due to dirty contaminated water than any other reason, $100 can change that prospect for three years.  

LifeStraw Family 
1 unit = 5 people access to clean safe drinking water for 3 years

42 units = 210 people with access to clean safe drinking water for 3 years 

OR

210 people clean safe drinking water for 3 years = 229,950 days of clean drinking water

Nobody is too small to make a difference, if you are prepared to sponsor me (pool resources with friends, family, colleagues) to complete the Rotorua marathon, I'm prepared to endure the training and the actual event.

Just think in three years time will you even notice that $100? But a family in Nakuru Kenya will still be reaping it's benefits.

One year on............

I developed this page in 2012 for the sole purpose to create awareness of my fundraising efforts to raise enough funds to volunteer in Nakuru Kenya.  A goal I proudly achieved.

Now for the next leg of the journey, this page is has now evolved to promote my fundraising and charitable efforts both locally and further afield. 

I would love for you to share this page and join me in my efforts to make your corner of this world a better place. 

My latest initiative is Warm Coats for Winter, I recently posted this on my Facebook Page why not check it out -  https://www.facebook.com/AbsOlutelyabslootle

"WARM COATS FOR WINTER......
I don't know about you, but the summer holidays are when I clear out of my wardrobe. Chances are hidden away at the back of your closet is an old coat or jacket that you don't wear anymore because it's not quite the fashion, or it's gotten "smaller" over time. These jackets stay there because it seems wrong to throw out these expensive items so they sit unworn year after year.
But this year there is a fantastic reason to pull out that old coat or jacket and experience just how good it feels to help somebody.
So here's the plan. WARM COATS FOR WINTER....... I'm starting a collection of good condition, warm coats and jackets that will be given directly to those that need them, (not just dumped into a clothing bin where you never know if the needy actually benefit.) I intend to contact the Auckland City Mission and see what their needs are and I also have a contact within the Waitemata DHB - Public Health Nurse, who can give directly to families in need.
So this year, clear out the cupboards, but put that coat/jacket to one side and together we can make the needy of Auckland a little bit warmer when winter gets here."

“If you think you are too small to make a difference, try sleeping with a mosquito.”
― Dalai Lama XIV

Tuonane Nakuru

The last ten days........

To squash the last week and a half into a single post seems an injustice, but the reality is  so many things happened in such a short time that to post on each and every one of them is neither possible, interesting or viable, so an abridged version is the best I can offer.

I told myself at the outset this was a fact finding trip, and the facts you find aren't always the ones you want.  From the outset of my time in Nakuru I've had many conversations with a friend Ive come to trust, at my increased disappointment with the charity I came here to serve, now its hard to sit back and see things that sit so dramatically opposed to how you think something should be done and say nothing.

I felt I had two choices, sit back and say nothing or think long and hard about the right way to broach the subject with those with sufficient power to facilitate change.  I'm reminded daily by a Martin Luther King quote I see on the wall at Aberdare Ranges School
         
           "Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter"

this mattered to me, I had to say something.  So after much deliberation and referring to notes I had made from the beginning of my time in Kenya, I put "pen" to paper and expressed my concerns to those that I felt needed to hear my voice, and in the interest of transparency and honesty I addressed the email to the parties concerned here in Kenya too.

I was impressed, the response was immediate and the in my opinion the concern genuine.    I was invited to share my suggestions and recommendations.  I had chosen not to do this in the initial email, as I felt to automatically assume they would want to hear my suggestions was in my, arrogant.  But I indicated I had given careful consideration and thought before writing, so its my belief my concerns were treated with respect.  I've since done exactly this and I await a response.  They may choose to disregard my concerns and pay no heed to my suggestions, this I can do nothing about, but to have remained silent, when my concerns were so great would have been, I believe irresponsible on my part.

Like I've said on a number of occasions, this was always going to be a fact finding mission.  Prior to leaving New Zealand I had begun researching a number of small charities also operating out of Nakuru, I had made contact with a few, two in particular piqued my interest as they were focused on what has always underpinned this entire dream of mine Education.  With my discontent at where I was posted I was keen to personally concept with a couple of these NGO's and learn a little more about their projects and the people behind them, so that's what I did.

During my time in Nakuru its become glaringly obvious that nothing is simple, nothing is easy and nothing is purely focused in one direction, and sadly many organisations are battling against the very people they should be in partnership, this battle seems always to be in the name of "charity".

My immediate impression on meeting these two very different people was, here were two charities, both being run single handedly at grass roots level, both in two different parts of Nakuru, but neither were in competition with each other or other organisations, but rather working collaboratively to make this tough job just a bit little easier.  I was immediately interested to learn more about them.

Start Small is a UK based charity run by a lady called Cindy Cooper-Ling, Cindy's passion with Nakuru started about three and a half years ago when she initially came to volunteer for an already established charity, but over time and repeated visits, Start Small began to evolve.  In essence Start Small sponsor children from the Rhonda Slum, this is a "whole" sponsorship. Many program's whilst they pay the school fees ensuring the child is entitled to be at school, fail to take into account the additional expenses attributed to attending school, uniform, transport, text books all additional expenses a family already stricken by extreme poverty can ill afford.

Start Small currently have nineteen children they have acquired sponsorship for, these sponsors are primarily but not solely from the United Kingdom.  Cindy has a trusted support person, a Kenyan local, who in her absence carries out regular checks on the families to ensure the children are attending school, and that their health is being maintained.  Start Small focuses not only the sponsored child, but also on their families, helping with medical costs where possible and supplying of care packages each Christmas.  Cindy is also looking at the viability of starting a small micro finance programme within this same small group of families.  During my time in Nakuru I went out a number of times with Cindy and her fantastic support person, the warmth shown towards them was heartfelt and genuine, many of these women were moved to tears as they expressed their gratitude for the support Start Small is giving them.  Cindy and I have been in discussion about ways she and I can collaborate, between ourselves and other charities to bring more support into the Rhonda slum.  I have a plan formulating and when I have some more specific facts I will be sharing that with you, this is something I believe can help literally thousands of people in a year, for a relatively small cost.

The second charity I have developed strong ties to, is run by a young man by the name of Ross Floyd from Northern Ireland.  Actions Not Words is a remarkably similar program to Start Small, aimed at placing children in education, Action Not Words currently has in excess of 30 sponsored children.  Action Not Words works out of the Gioto Garbage Slum, colloquially known as The Dumpsite.

If Rhonda is a slum, then I'm at a loss for words how best to describe this place.  Prior to my trip to Nakuru I tried to paint an image of The Dumpsite, an image I'd built from photos I had seen, and information I'd gathered.  But until its experienced first hand the desperation and reality of such a place is neigh on impossible to fully comprehend.  Many children here live in the shadow of death, too many are orphans, most survive with only one parent or grandparent (if they are lucky) accident, disease and violence are all part of every day life.  Ross and his Kenyan associate Agnes, work tirelessly to improve the lot of those they can.

I'm astounded at the work being done by this young man, his personal dedication to complete his own university degree and keep returning to Nakuru is admirable, his total transparency and honesty on all levels should be held up as an example to other more established and bigger organisations.

The assistance I'm going to give Ross is far less visible, but we both believe equally valuable.  During every meeting we had, he constantly reiterated his belief in the importance of doing the basics Well before he tries to grow Actions Not Words, and this is where I come in.  My role is to look at how we can streamline and set up a sound administrative data base to hopefully enable Ross to develop a clearer picture of each and every child; from their personal background, academic achievement and basic health records.  We will also work together to develop a data base of the sponsors ensuring those contributing to these children also have a clearer picture of their sponsored child.

My time in Kenya hasn't been all doom and gloom, far from it.  I've met people who have changed my view of charity and aide, I've forged friendships based on a shared desire to make a difference, friendships I believe will endure distance and time.

The friendship I formed with Cindy enabled me to realise one of the main tasks I came to Kenya to do, distribute the personal water filtration devices - Lifestraws.  When hampered by internal politics on the Dumpsite (Ross wasn't in Nakuru at that time or things may have been different) it was Cindy who suggested we seek out the most in need at Rhonda slum, a previous post detailed the distribution in full, but what I've not yet shared is the final distribution day.  We ventured into the dusty back hills behind Nakuru, to a small slum village called Nymarutu, a village populated by the very old and the very young, the most vulnerable to water borne illness.  We distributed the final 35 Lifestraws to these women and it was here I shed my first tears, this tiny old lady hugged my with so depth of appreciation and held my hand so tight, repeating over and over "Asante sana, Asante sana " I couldn't hold back the tears, and even now as I write this, on a plane bound for Abu Dhabi I'm welling up with tears at the mere thought of it.

The longer I stayed in Nakuru, and the more I saw, I began to think I could no longer be shocked by what I saw, then the horrors on the streets would remind me at the naivety of such a thought. I will never fail to be stunned into silence by the sights I see here.  But what I've come to realise more than anything is the vast majority of these people are uncomplaining, with such a strong sense of pride and dignity, their warmth of heart extends to offering you the guest the little they have. I'm honoured and truly blessed to have been allowed to share just a tiny part of this.

Asante sana tuonane Nakuru

Rhonda....

Wow.... This post has been a long time coming..... and now that I can finally post it,I'm nearly at a loss for words at where to begin.

Those who read abs-olutely with any regularity will be well aware at my acute sense of failure to distribute the donated Lifestraws satisfactorily, you may have also noticed my discontent in a few areas I've encountered during my stay here.  I can't stress enough, the discontent is mine, and I'm not going to point the finger at specific organisations or people, as this would be grossly unfair.  I'm taking full responsibility for my opinion and expectation of all that I've encountered here in Nakuru and will reflect on it more fully on my return home.

But imagine my joy when given the opportunity to view a variety of other charities and projects in and around Nakuru.  To blog the past week in its entirety would be not only very long, but I'm sure also incredibly boring, so I will endeavour to capture just a few of the moments that made this the experience of not only my time here, but one of the most moving experiences in my lifetime.  An experience I feel totally blessed to have been able to be part of, made possible by a woman who I believe is not only doing amazing things within her own small charity Start Small, but also in conjunction with a lot of other small NGO's around Nakuru.

Cindy knew of my disappointment to get the 113 donated Lifestraws out to the residents of Gioto (The Dumpsite) I must stress again, the only reason the distribution didn't happen was due to the internal politics of The Dumpsite, not because of any organisation that works there.

Cindy and I became friends via a group on Facebook called Nakuru Volunteers, I started to follow the work of her organisation Start Small, and saw this was exactly that, a small child  sponsorship programme that worked off the Rhonda slum also here in Nakuru.  Rhonda covers a massive area and I'm unsure of how many it houses but from what I have read it has in excess of 65,000 residents.  I will dedicate a future post to the uniqueness of Cindy's charity as it deserves wider exposure and its exposure I'm more than happy to give.

The poverty at R honda whilst different to The Dumpsite is still poverty to such an extent that it simply can not comprehended unless seen, smelt, felt, and experienced first hand.  This is a level of such poverty that we are blessed to have no point of reference to in New Zealand. Poverty that even within the low socioeconomic community I work in have never seen

Families are living in homes no bigger than the average garden shed.  At times as many as 8 people call a small mud brick room approximately 10ft x 6ft, home.  These homes have no toilet, no electricity, water, sealed walls or sealed floors and often the only furniture is a bed, one bed for all the occupants that reside there... A number we visited had a couch, obviously salvaged from a scrap heap, but not one couch I was invited to sit on had a cushion, just a sheet covering the wooden frame. Every home had a massive stack of the now familiar yellow jerry cans, these are 20ltr plastic containers that families collect water in.  Some families go to a communal watering hole that has been dug and covered, whilst others go to a water distribution post in the slum to buy water directly, others gather water in buckets, none of these solutions are ideal, and some are quite obviously totally unhygienic, as one picture in particular will demonstrate.

The families we visited ranged in size from just three children to seven or eight, patented either by mother, big sister or grandmother.

Men are conspicuous in their absence in these homes, (though I did see a note stuck to the wall of one home outlining the expectations of the children after school, and this was signed by Baba - dad).

According to statistics most of the men in these slum communities are unemployed, not surprising with an astronomical 70% unemployment across Kenya and with no government support or assistance this soon leads leads to discontent and frequently the abuse of the locally home brewed spirit changaa.  A lethal concoction that I'm told frequently causes multiple organ damage, liver failure, blindness and even death.

But don't be deceived by the picture I paint. These are not women who have given up and have no self respect, far from it. The vast majority of these women (and it was only women) both young and old were immaculate presented, their children were happy, polite and welcoming.  And they invited us into their homes with such warmth and pride it was humbling to say the least.

We were accompanied by the most amazing Kenyan man I've had the privilege of meeting during my time here, Holmes "Homie G" works tirelessly for Cindy and her charity Start Small whilst also maintaining a day job as a piki piki driver (motorbike taxi).. His respect for her is immediately apparent, the bond and trust they have in each other is one of friend, employee, siblings.  She repeatedly tells me she can't believe her luck at finding this gem the day she got on his piki piki, the rest is history.

Homie knew each and every one of the families we visited, as we arrived he was greeted like the big brother, a father figure, the eldest son he has become to these women and children.  These are children, that without a man like Holmie in their life might never experience such a positive male role model.  Homie is the kind of person that no matter where he lived, no matter what he does in his life he is going to rise to the top, he has the vision and forethought to be the kind of leader we need more of.  He's intelligent, articulate, funny, genuine, kind, sincere but most of all he's incredibly humble.... All this from a young man of just 24, I'm excited to have met him, and believe that he is a genuine asset to the families of not only Rhonda but also Nakuru.

As we moved through Rhonda on our two piki convoy we were constantly greeted by the ever present "hello mazungu howareyou?" cry by the children.  But it was the adults that came up to Cindy and the warmth of their embraces that truly reflect the depth of gratitude this vast community have for what she is doing.

We visited with a grandmother who was moved to tears when she was able to sign the consent form allowing Cindy to now put another of her grandchildren into school... A sponsor had come forth, and now this little boy would be going to school on Monday.  This same woman couldn't say thank you enough for the gift of six Lifestraws.  She is raising her grandchildren since there mother sadly passed away.

There was the young mother who only two days before Cindy had transported to hospital as her son Jack was gravely ill, it turned out he had a severe case of cerebral malaria.  This is a water borne disease that frequently has fatal consequences, a disease that would have killed this little boy in less than 48 hours, the medicine to fix this less than $10:00NZ..... but Karen didn't have this, it equated to more than half her months rent and her other child still had to be fed, Cindy stepped in and helped out. Here before us sat a very lethargic but very much alive little boy, this might not have been the case if Cindy hadn't stepped in.  Start Small sponsors Jack, but have yet to find a sponsor for his sibling.... Another two Lifestraws were given to this family...

The stories are endless, and to me are all of equal importance, but I can't blog each and everyone of them, but what I can tell you is that many many families have been given the chance of safer drinking water through the simple act of you donating a Lifestraw.  You will never know if you stopped a child contracting a killer disease like the one Jack experienced, but know in your heart your donation has most certainly been received and every recipient was incredibly grateful, and for that I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Again I thank you for donating Lifestraws, I thank you for helping somebody who can never repay you. I thank the people supported me and my attempted to fulfil this dream, I can never repay you, but I sincerely thank you.

Asante sana
Jacq


(Due to the difficulties I'm experiencing posting photos to this blog whilst using my iPad I will post all photographs relating to this post on my Facebook page)

Expectation 'v' Reality

14-01-13

Expectation versus Reality......

It's a tough mental dilemma to face, when the reality of a situation is the anthesis of ones expectation....

I know at the outset of this journey education was my soul focus, and as the time wore on I began and my knowledge began to grow I became to realise that there are other areas of equally maybe greater importance that I might be able to help....

The reality I've been faced with since my arrival, is one that has caused me many many hours of contemplation and self questioning.  Those of you who know me well, will know that my solution to thinking is walking...... So its walking I've been doing.

The question I've asked myself repeatedly and have done since almost the first day I arrived, is

"How much of a benefit can one person be, when faced with a system so opposed to change?"  (Kenyan education system)   And the answer I keep coming back to, is a resounding None!

And in all honesty, why should they want me?, Why should I be viewed as anything more than an extra set of hands?
Is this not their country, their children, their future...?  And though I may not agree with the system and the way things are being done in school, does that give me the right to expect change? Of course not!

So I need to do is ask myself some serious questions;
1 - How badly do I want to help?
2 - Who do I want to help?
3 - How do I want to help?

I set out with the view of this trip to be a fact finding mission, and it hasn't disappointed me, though its raised as many questions for me as its answered.  Some questions I may not be able to answer until I have my "home sweet home" head back on.

The more people I talk to, the more I begin to realise the reasons for mazungu being here seem to fall into distinct categories.  It appears to me, as a newbie looking in, that developing countries and NGO's (non-government organisations) are a breeding ground for escape.  Many here are running away, or maybe just hiding (from reality mostly), whilst some seem to be here trying to forget, then there are those just fulfilling a burning desire to help, many are just here to live a party lifestyle and some are just passing through....

What category do I fall into? "Burning desire" I think, I'm certainly not running or hiding, or partying and I'm most definitely headed back where I came from, so I'm not passing through.

In true Jacq fashion, I've asked a lot of questions, I've made observations, and I'm certainly going to be doing a lot of research upon my return.

What am I going to do?
How am I going to help?
Will I return?

I don't have any of those answers yet, but Kenya I don't think you've seen the last of me.

Asante sana

Firsts.......

 09-01-13

I've always loved the quote
           
              "When was the last time you did something for the first time?"

Well I can honestly say, on Sunday just past I went on safari for the first time in my life.  I saw so many firsts, if I blogged them all, I'm sure I couldn't do them justice and I would just bore the tan safari suit off you all........But I can't let some of the sights and experiences go by unmentioned.

With the past few blogs having had a slightly negative bent to them, it seems like a great time to lift the mood, and be reminded, whilst this is fundamentally a working trip, their is nothing to stop me having some fun along the way.

Ive frequently mentioned the German organisation HHF, and also as mentioned I helped them over the weekend, as they hosted yet another free medical camp at Gioto Garbage Slum.  Knowing I was alone in Kenya, they had kindly invited me to join them on safari the following day, I gratefully accepted their generous offer.  This was great for me, because otherwise I would have just had to do the touristy bus experience, and chances are I would have ended up just not doing it....

So with expenses being split five ways it proved to be an economical way to get to see the Nakuru National Park and all its wonders... And oh my goodness what wonders there are.

I promise I'm not going to rabbit on endlessly about every animal, and every amazing sight I saw, and just count yourself lucky you won't be one of the unlucky few that are subjected to the hundreds of photos I took... But as I mentioned earlier some things can't be ignored....And to be ironically the two best stories, happened in the first and the last half hour of the day....

Upon arrival at the park we had gone through the formalities of signing and paying, Oswald our driver and guide had to be issued with a new safari card for 2013 so that took up some time, and whilst we were waiting for all this to be completed, we all became quite excited when a very vocal and quite large troop of grey baboons came gambolling through the car park, many with babies hanging under them, and all with very sore looking red bottoms.....of course this being our very first safari "moment" we all began clicking away like the tourists we were...with guide card issued, entry fees paid, we were on our way.

As we made our way through the main gate, the armed guard at the checkpoint signalled to our driver that he wants to sight his new safari card, so Oswald pulls over and hops out the van, and walks a matter of a few meters over to the checkpoint....

Suddenly, from out of nowhere comes an enormous baboon, it runs towards the van, and in a single bound leaps through the drivers window, across Oswald's empty seat and plonks itself down in the passenger seat, it immediately leans forward into the foot well and rummages through the picnic bag the HHF team had put there and pulls out a loaf of bread and rips at it with his teeth....

All the while, we are all laughing hysterically/nervously with one of the Germans yelling "stop him!!!!"

 Yeah right! ....I'm the closest and have a clear view of those enormous claws, as far as im concerned he can have that loaf, and he knows it... He continues to sit in the passenger seat for just a little longer, then tucks the loaf under his arm, looks around at us with a "so are you going to stop me?" look on his face. He leaps back out the drivers window and legs it up the nearest tree, hotly pursued by half a dozen jealous baboons. With that Oswald returns and hops in the van totally oblivious to the commotion that has just taken place... (I actually have a great set of images to accompany this story, Im so pleased I had set my camera on continuous shot mode, as its a fantastic series of about eight shots of this greedy bugger demolishing our loaf of bread.....)

The other high point of the day happened as we were leaving the park, but unknowingly we had been witness to part of this event not long after baboon debacle.

We had slowly made our way into the park, with the pop up roof open, cameras at the ready, unashamedly being total tourists.  We were all ooooing and ahhhhing at the; flamingos, gazelles, water buffalo, the zebras roaming free (within hours we are almost blasé to the beauty of these amazing beasts, no longer pointing them out to each other) we were yet to see a giraffe, and I won't deny it, I was nearly in tears at the sight of these most beautiful of creatures.....

But as we slowly made our way along the edge of the lake, we became aware of a lot of bubbles forming, "wow!" there was a hippo or maybe two on the lakes edge.  Oswald pulls over for us to all take a look, he was quite surprised by this, as he told us its quite unusual to see hippo at Nakuru National Park, they are usually much further out into the lake and there aren't too many of them here.

So we carried on our day, thinking how lucky we had been to have seen a hippo.....Hours later as we are wearily making our way back towards the gate, all a bit tired after hours and hours bumping over dusty tracks in the african heat......at exactly the same spot on the lake shoreline the hippo is still there, but this time she is far more active, and we become aware that only a short distance away, another two, possibly three adult hippos are surrounding her... As Oswald pulls the van to a halt, we are already up and pointing our cameras in her direction, two boys in a van with their parents have also stopped to watch excitedly call out to us..... "She's just had a baby!!!!!"

And sure enough, we can now see the mother hippo is actually supporting, with her head an incredibly small baby hippo, the infant appears to still be attached to its mother and the other hippos are acting as guards to protect the two of them.... We are all in awe of this, literally blown away to have been so privileged to have witnessed something this amazing... And how fantastic for those two little boys to have witnessed the birth, a story they no doubt remember for the rest of their lives, just as I will too.    

As promised I won't bore you with the whole days events for the list is endless.....more crazy tales of monkeys grabbing food, the dozens and dozens of elegant giraffes many with their young, or the two sleeping lions perched in the trees legs dangling lazily like they would do us no harm......but how could two such memorable events not be shared..?They made my day, my week..heck maybe even the trip... I certainly won't forget them in a hurry, and if Im never blessed enough to return to Kenya, they are two images I will carry with me forever....

Asante sana

Pole sana (very sorry)

07-01-13

Today, Monday 7th January, saw the return to school for the vast majority of Kenyan children.  Yesterday, I went on a unbelievably amazing safari to the Nakuru National Park, and on Saturday I was part of a mind blowing medical camp at the Gioto Garbage Slum with Rico and his team from HHF, but its none of those amazing things I'm going to write about this evening... For I really need to address an issue, an issue that currently fills me with a certain sense of failure.

Prior to coming away I was completely overwhelmed at the level of support shown for the Lifestraw a personal water filtration device.  Support from every day people; friends, family plus many I hardly knew, including some I didn't know at all, so many people jumped on board, as they, like me saw this as a tangible way to help those most at need, those living the hardest life imaginable.  I pushed and pushed for people to purchase a Lifestraw for the price I paid, and I won't lie to you, it was heart warming to pack 113 LifeStraws into my luggage.  So now many of you are probably quite rightly so starting to question "what's  happened to the LifeStraws?"

Naively I thought it would be a breeze to get these life saving devices to those most in need.... How wrong could I have been? .........And here is where I feel a sense of failure, feel I owe an explanation.  But before I give an explanation, please let me assure you that all 113 LifeStraws, plus an additional 100 donated by HHF will make it to the most vulnerable, the most in need, it just might not happen in quite such a  "Fairytale" manner as I first anticipated.  But that folks (as I am sadly/quickly learning) is Kenya for you.

So, here's what's happened.......

On arrival in Kenya I made contact with a man whose work I've really come to admire.   I've mentioned his organisation a number of times lately HHF (Hardcore Help Foundation) this guy is a regular, down to earth, kind hearted German, that just happens raises enough money throughout the year in Germany to enable; him, his partner, their organisation and an ever growing number of volunteers to provide the families of the Gioto garbage slum with four FREE medical camps a year.  HHF provides the doctors, the nurses, the medicine, the shelter, volunteers such as myself come along to do all the menial tasks, HHF even fed us during the day... (There is so, so, so much more this guy does, both in Kenya, and in Germany it's well worth taking a look at his web site www.hhf.org)

As previously mentioned HHF had brought an additional 100 LifeStraws to and we agreed to combine them with my 113, If I remember correctly it was through the HHF Facebook page I first learnt of this amazing device.  Naively I thought we would be able to give these straws away to the most needy on the slum to ensure that when they had no access to clean water they could drink what the water available via the Lifestraw and not be at risk of the dozens of water borne diseases..... How wrong I was!

What I hadn't factored in, was the level of control and corruption that infiltrates every level of Kenyan life, none more effected than those most vulnerable, the poor and the weak, but on Saturday I experienced it first hand.

On arrival at the "Dumpsite" as its colloquially known, the locals that support HHF by assisting with the set up of the medical camp had done a fine job and the small building we were to be using was a hive of activity.  (I'm not even going to try describe the horror that is the Dumpsite in this post, for to do the extremes justice it requires a post unto itself, and  I'm headed back there before I leave, so I will attempt to paint you a fitting picture next time... This post is purely about the LifeStraws and my need to explain.)

Once the first tasks of the day have been completed and the initial buzz of arrival has worn off, it's suggested that now we might venture out into the Interior of the slum, and begin distributing the LifeStraws.  We've been lucky enough to acquire a lovely young man as our interpreter and guide, as barely any English is spoken up here.  our guide knows Gioto well, his grandmother resides he, and because of this he knows the intricacies and politics of the Dumpsite and he takes us aside and explains his concerns.

As with any environment a "leader" always emerges in some shape or form, and the Gioto garbage slum of Nakuru is no different.  It appears the slum boss, or more accurately the slum "Queen" is a very powerful lady, and one I'm told that strikes fear in those who reside under her.  As is too often the case with those who hold a position of power, the hold they have over others is often obtained through threats and violence.

Now to be fair, I know very little of this woman, but if half the stories I'm told are to be believed, they certainly don't endear me to her, and with contacts in many levels of the Nakuru underworld, as well as within those paid to serve and protect, I'm in no hurry to become better acquainted with her.  We are advised that if we wish to venture onto the slum and distribute the LifeStraws its in our best interest to obtain "consent" from the Mama. Now I must admit I hate the thought of cow-towing to a person I don't seeing as earned their leadership, but who am I to argue or become righteous? This isn't my world, I don't have to continue living here or bear the consequences after I retreat to the safety of my homestay, and the HHF team seem to be of a similar opinion.

So we sit and we wait, we wait until Mamma appears, am I surprised to be face to face with well dressed, in her late forties, head wrapped in the traditional silk like  scarf, she could be any of the women I've passed in the street this past few weeks (minus the warm smile I've become accustomed to) in true Kenyan style I extend my hand with a quiet "Habari", begrudgingly (or am I imagining that?) she takes it and responds "Mazuri" we follow her, as she slowly walks us up through the Dumpsite to where she lives, the contrast is remarkable, though this is no palace, this one room created from what looks like scraps of plywood is not only incredibly hot its almost salubrious by comparison to the homes that surround it.

Mamma motions that we are to come in and with little or no verbal communication we are instructed to sit, so we do, and she disappears.   As my adjust to the darkness I begin to look around, I see we are actually seated on a matching 5 piece lounge suite! surrounded by many large cardboard posters, some proclaiming gods love and prayers, others are pictures of Asian babies asleep on pumpkins or pillows, but the most bizarre of all, the A3 framed photo of a camo clad, AK47 toting Arnold Schwarzenegger! At this point we are alone, and one of HHF team makes eyes to me indicating he too has seen this masterpiece.

Upon her return our guide/interpreter starts talking to her in Swahili, we are told, she gives us permission to go onto the Dumpsite, but with conditions, we must purchase some of her goods, we must not buy crafts elsewhere on the site, and she must receive a Lifestraw and be photographed with it... We comply, she is given a Lifestraw, we buy a number of overpriced jewellery items that we could have bought for half the price in town and finally we are on our way, after about half an hour...

As we begin to meander our way up the steep hill side, I turn and see we are gazing out over the stunning lake Nakuru.  Anywhere else homes commanding a view such as this would be prime real estate, but not at the Gioto garbage slum, where vultures as taller than a child, wild dogs and pigs are fighting alongside the hungry for the scraps dumped here each day.

We do manage to distribute about fifteen of our now 213 LifeStraws, but we are quite obviously being followed by some of Mammas "family" and we are quietly told by our guide he suspects that Mamma might be keen to take the straws off the recipients and sell them back to them, so we abandon our task and make our way back down through the interior of the slum to the medical camp.  

This proved to be the only negative of an awe inspiring day, to be even a tiny part of the work the HHF team do is a real honour, I feel totally blessed to have been allowed to join them.

But all is not lost, in the next few days a young Irish man who has spent many many months working on the Dumpsite, this guy is well known and respected by both the locals of Gioto and the HHF team is returning to Nakuru, I'm making contact with him and requesting he take me back to the Dumpsite and with his assistance we will start the distribution process, I don't think it will be possible to photograph the recipients, as I feel this would draw too much unwanted attention to the, and with a slightly better understanding of the dynamics of the Dumpsite I can see this would do more harm than good.

So there we have it..........not every grand plan is a good one, if you donated a Lifestraw again I thank you sincerely, I promise I will try my darnedest to get them to the most needy..I have another place I'm taking them, but that too requires a whole post to itself...

If you were waiting anxiously for a photo of your recipient all I can say is, Pole sana (very sorry) if I've let you down...

Jacq
x

Women's work!!!!!

04-01-13

A day like no other.... Contrasts and congestion to name just a few of the words that describe my day yesterday

Earlier in the week my home stay had mentioned she had a full day in town planned for Thursday, to prepare for her daughters return to boarding school the following Monday, and there was a lot to do plus she needed to visit the fruit markets.... so obviously I offered to help....

Wow, I certainly gained an even greater insight and respect for the role of women in Kenyan society, chores that would have taken a matter of just a couple of hours in my world, took an entire day here and left us both throughly exhausted.

We left home a little after nine, expecting to fold our bodies into an over crowded Matatu, (an ancient Japanese commercial van, the type with a sliding door on the side, but with four rows of bench seats installed)..... at best a Matatu will have the legal number of twelve passengers, but on any given day that number may vary depending on need, and its not uncommon to find 20+ people along with huge bags and parcels both inside and strapped to the roof, and don't be alarmed if you glance across and see a caged chicken perched on a fellow passengers lap.

Matatu's cruise along the long straight Pipeline highway frequently, as one walks they pull in and pick you up, the fare varies from driver to driver (and if you're a lone mazungu expect to pay more than the average local) but the 20 km trip to town usually costs in the region of 50-70 ks about a dollar in our money... But this morning there was not a Matatu in sight... A recent spate of tragic Matatu road accidents, 21 deaths in two days in two separate accidents had spurred Nakuru traffic police to put road blocks in place to check the safety of local Matatu, hence most Matatu had gone into "hiding"... After a long wait, one finally one pulls in beside us, only to tell is he will only travel 5km up the road to Pipeline Junction, obviously the checks are past The Junction, but 5kms is better than nothing in this heat, so 20ks later we are off loading at Pipeline Junction with literally dozens and dozens of other locals wanting to get into town for work or shopping...... The wait was long and the sun was already baking down on us, full Matatu's were arriving, but only taking the 12 passengers they could legally carry.   After an hour or so we finally get a ride the rest of the way, what had started out as a 15/20 minute journey had stretched to an hour and half!

The last time I came to town was to visit the fruit and vege markets with my homestay, I saw sights like nothing in my world.. And today proved to be no different, the markets open early, and I'm told one must buy before lunch time if you want the good stuff, these are winding lanes and sprawling open air markets with every fruit, vegetable, grain you can imagine, coupled with many items that were unidentifiable to an untrained mazungu eye.

Sacks of beans, lentils, rice, corn, maize and grains spew their contents onto a sack on the dusty unsealed pavements.  I just love the way they vendors display their wares in cans stacked atop fat sacks arranged in artistic little piles.. Ancient metal scales with heavy weights are shared by stalls to weigh out produce that isn't sold by the scoop.. Tomatoes and other fruit and vegetables are stacked in small carefully arranged pyramids, and the noise is deafening as each vendor via's eagerly for your custom.  Dark winding paths, lead us up to the banana area, where small sheds that can only be described as stables, house tons and tons of very fragrant ripe bananas.

My home stay barters and negotiates every single purchase and finally we leave with in excess of

25kg of fresh fruit and vegetables, crammed into two enormous bags..

Young boys appear from nowhere all eagerly offering to carry your bags to your next destination (at a price of course) we take one up on his offer and then leave our purchases with an acquaintance of my homestay (at a price, of course) All this has taken over and hour, and as the hour creeps towards 12, the sun is really burning down on us, the volume of people, the pushing, the shoving, the calling, all has to be experienced to be fully understood and appreciated.  I glance down at my dusty, dirty feet and wonder if they will ever
look clean again.

This really is a day of extremes... .....Throughout the morning I have been communicating with some people I've met via Facebook, there are a group of Germans in town who run an organisation called Hardcore Help Foundation - HHF. (The work these people have done is amazing and deserves a post to itself)

We had agreed to meet, as I have offered to assist them with a medical camp they were planning out at the Giotto garbage slum on Saturday.  So as 21st century communication meets the dusty market place I duck out to meet them for an hour or so... We agree to meet at a local mazungu hotel, so I set off down the hot and dusty Kenyatta Avenue, all the time hounded by the now familiar but constant calls of stall holders and the incessant beeping from the horns Matatus, motorbikes and tuktuk's.

As I step into the cool air conditioned confines of the Merica hotel I'm transported back in time to different world, this I believe is what colonial Kenya may have looked like.  The door is held open for me by a very tall gentleman in top hat and tails, sporting a walking stick and a very serious demeanour, personally I believe he who would have looked more at home in the majestic red robes of the Masai herdsman I pass most mornings.  I find myself standing in a entrance of a classic hotel, albeit with a decidedly African theme, the gleaming marble floor, the sumptuous couches could have been anywhere in the world.

I'm guided through to a beautiful fern lined covered seated area, i find myself sitting next to a beautiful crystal clear pool... How does this cool oasis exist only meters from the dusty, noisy chaos I've just stepped in from?

As new friends, we chat and become acquainted, the three organisers discuss the plans for the
upcoming medical camp and also for Sunday, (we have made plans to share expenses and take a day safari and sightseeing at the Nakuru national park... This is my treat to myself whilst I'm here, and I won't lie to you, I'm pretty excited at the prospect of seeing wild zebras, rhino, flamingo and maybe even a lion up close and personal) and to be doing this with a new group of friends is much better than going alone or with a guided tour. We bid farewell and agree to meet early Saturday morning.....

I head back into the hustle and bustle of Kenyatta Avenue to meet up with my homestay..
as she needs to visit the bank, again this is not a quick process, everything here requires patience, so with a hot and hungry nine year old in tow, I volunteer to take her to sit under the leafy canopy at a small open air cafe, Rift Fries.  So my tired nine year old companion and I sit and sip ice cold soft drinks and people watch whilst her mums does her personal banking, at an adults pace, not at the pace of a nine year old with tired feet

Once the banking is done and a number of other very time consuming errands are completed, we carry yet another heavy box back to a secure point, my host knows somebody who will transport all the non perishable items home in his car for her, this is far more preferable to us, rather than taking them along with the many kilos of fresh fruit and vegetables.  With the day drawing to a close, I'm told we need to visit the fish and chicken market, all I can say is.......OMG!!!!!




Again we pick our way along the tiny pot holed back alleys of the Nakuru markets. I find myself in places a lone mazungu would never have gone if visiting Nakuru, and as I step foot into the chicken market maybe I wouldn't have minded missing this one off my bucket list. But to be honest it's an "experience" if nothing else, we are here for chicken and by the smell and the noise we are in the right place.  Stalls and stalls of dark scaled fish I've never seen before are piled high and I'm reminded of my daughters story's from her experience in the Quito markets in Ecuador.

As we make our way through the markets the stench is rank, dozens and dozens of cages line the walls, each one was once home to the produce now for sale in plastic bags on the table in front of us. Freshly slaughtered chickens complete with their entrails and their last fully formed but still shell'less egg sit in a bag, not unlike the goldfish I once used to eye at the fairground as a child in England.  When our two foul are selected, the old lady vendor quickly pierces the corner of the bag, drains the fluid that surrounds the bird into a gutter by my feet and pops the contents into a small black plastic bag and we are on our way...Again I think to myself, "it would be so easy to be vegetarian here"

It's soon time to head home and as we make our way to the places my host has stored her purchases we become more and more laden down like a pack horse.. Fruit, veges, litres and litres of water, groceries, along with screeds and screeds of supplies and three pairs of shoes all for a nine year old heading back to boarding school.

If you recall the matatu drivers are not playing ball today, so I'm told we need to get a tuktuk home, so with great excitement (mine) we squeeze ourselves into this bizarre looking little vehicle... A tuktuk is a cross between something driven by Fred Flintstone and a carriage you might find on a ride at the fairground...each tuktuk is a three wheeled vehicle powered by a motorcycle engine with the driver (we had two) screened off from the passengers by a mesh screen, the vehicle is encased in a canvas like fabric and the side doors zip down, it's noisy, it's bumpy, and it cost us 500ks and about half and hour to travel the 20 or so kilometres home... And I loved it!!!!!!

When we all finally "hatch" out of our tuktuk the friendly driver allows me to photograph him and his very cute little vehicle, its been a very long, very enlightening day.

A day that I can say only reconfirmed yet again that the simple life isn't always the easy life. Today I have personally experienced how damned hard the average Kenyan woman works just to complete everyday chores that we take for granted.


Asante sana
Jacq

Remember the good advice you're given and use it...

31-12-12

09:15 and the sun is already baking down, according to the weather app on my phone we've almost reached the days high of 26 degrees as I set off along the track to the children's home, quite the antithesis of the past five days. The deluge of rain that has hit the Rift Valley this past week has tragically killed over 20 people and wiped out a village in a horrific landslide, so dealing with muddy feet and a slippery track is a very small price to pay, plus everybody is very grateful for the full water tanks and jerry cans.

As I set off along the track, a quite elderly couple are tending their shamba close to where I stay, as is the Kenyan way, we wave an exchange a friendly "Habari - Mazuri sana" now I've encountered this elderly gentleman before, and both times he has attempted on a full conversation with me, and both times it's involved a lot of smiling and tummy rubbing on his part, now he either is telling me he's hungry, but from the ample crops his shamba is producing I don't think that to be the case, so maybe he's just explaining to me that he is the local Buddha :o) either way each time we have this "conversation" I smile a lot, and apologetically explain sielewi (I don't understand) and carry on my merry way.

I'm walking with a bit of a heavy heart today, to be honest I'm finding some things more difficult than I anticipated (I'm struggling to get my head around some aspects of the children's home) so as I walk I'm taking in my surroundings and committing them to memory so I can share them when I blog.. The walk to Holding Hands is a similar distance to my daily walk to work at home, and just like that walk it proves to be a fantastic time to mull things over.  So as I walk, as always I think....

As I make my way past the school, I catch myself wondering what it will be like to be working there later in my stay.  And as I walk I scan the wall for the now familiar lizards that scamper to safety up the wall and dart along the top to sun themselves, this morning I see only two.  I love these little guys, and have photographed them a number of times, they are much larger than the skinks we have back home and never fail to make me stop and watch them for a moment or two.

In the small fenced area opposite the school quite a commotion is taking place, it would seem that about 15 goats, two turkeys and a large number of white geese have found their way into a maize patch and are in the midst of a delicious feeding frenzy, if they aren't careful I think they could be making a quicker trip to the pot than originally intended - a fantastic New Years feast maybe!

Today the track is littered with fresh cow dung, it doesn't take a detective to guess who has walked this track before me today, and sure enough as I pass the school and make my way onto the open grasslands I'm faced with the now familiar sight of the Masai heardsmen.  These five; tall, majestic looking figures stand solemnly on the grasslands about two hundred meters from me.  They are dressed head to toe in long red robes, they carry long crooks to prod at their stock, though from this distance I can't make out if these five have the massive gaping holes in their ear lobes that many of their fellow tribesman do.  They are surrounded by their heard, the Masai graze an unusual looking cow, one that is much more slender than our black and white Frisians, it has a small camel like hump between it's shoulders and horns that range from a small nubbin to intimidating looking weapons of mass destruction.  The masai cow is a docile animal, that barely even gives me a sleepy second glance as I pick my way through the ones that dotting the path I'm taking.

I'm told by locals that the Masai are nomads, that graze their stock on open grasslands such as these, their homes are tiny shelters erected daily from sticks and plastic or canvas sheeting, and if need be they are known to take shelter under the belly of their largest beast.

I'm starting to recognise natural landmarks on my daily walk, be it the small junction where three paths meet and I take the straight ahead path, whilst the other two wind off in different directions across this vast open expanse of grassland or the ever growing ant hill that has doubled in size each day I've passed it since I first noticed it on Boxing Day.  The small pointed tail swallows constantly duck and dive above my head catching flying insects remind me of being a child in England, I don't recall ever seeing them in such huge numbers in New Zealand.

As I said at the beginning of this post, I've been mentally battling with a few issues, (all of them totally my own making I'm sure) certain aspects are very different here and I'm having to learn to adjust.  I'm loving the people, the place, the food, the culture, I'm just adapting to a few other aspects, and as I walk I think back to the words spoken by a person I greatly respect and admire, a person who has faced far bigger challenges than this... I recall him saying as he trekked across the vast expanse of Antarctica the only way to feel any sense of achievement was to set small goals, and look at how you can work towards them, and when you get there celebrate those small achievements...

So I decided instead of being frustrated by the lack of structure and the insurmountable behaviour issues I knew I would be facing on arrival at HH, I would see at how I could fit into the structure that does exist, so that's what I did.  As soon as I put my bag away, I set to helping the house mums clean up the dining area from devastation of the recent meal that had taken place.  These three teams of five woman do have systems in place, so it seemed a good place to start... And after an hour of scrubbing the 8 enormous ten foot long tables and the 16 bench seats with my meagre bucket of water, I felt ready to face what ever HH had to throw at me, and I was pleasantly surprised to be greeted with a day of far less unrest and far more cohesion...

Was it a state of mind on my part? Who knows, but Asante sana for the reminder Jamie it certainly worked.

Jacq

"It's always the right time to do the right thing"

Pipeline

Pipeline on Christmas Day

As the party drew to a close, my new mazungu friend and I bid farewell to the children and began the fifteen minute walk across the grassland to The Camp, now to give a clearer picture of what the camp is I will explain using the little knowledge I have and may apologise in advance for any inaccuracies as I'm pretty green to all of this.

Five years ago due to political unrest surrounding the 2005 many people were displaced off their traditional homelands, this resulted in much violence and civil unrest, over time the displaced were given a small parcel of money to relocate, a number of these people pooled their money and purchased this block of land now known as Pipeline IDP (Internally Displaced People) camp.  But of course their pittance of a pay out from the government that displaced them off their original land only bought land!  There was no room for luxuries, no drinking water, no electricity, no washing or toilet facilities, this was basic living at its most basic....

But in the true spirit of mankind the world over, the predominantly Kikuyu people of Pipeline, began to make this home. And with the assistance of a variety of international aide agencies these people created shelter over their families heads.  And by shelter I mean the vast majority used large tarpaulins stretched over branches cut from the scrub that grows on grasslands I walk each day, or the luckier (richer) ones managed to get corrugated iron and created small one room living areas for their family, on average two adults and three children.  A family of five people all squished together in an area approximately six foot by four foot and if they are lucky about six foot in height, this wasn't living this was survival.

Marc and I talk as we wind our way across the grasslands towards the camp.  as we approach the camp we pass a man passed out in the long grass, we visually check him, he is breathing but obviously under the influence of something pretty potent, as he's out cold...

Marc begins to explain the basics of the composting latrine initiative his is implementing.  Simply put, he submitted a proposal to the committee and families of Pipeline IDP camp, giving them the opportunity to purchase through a programme similar to the micro finance models, their very own self composting latrine.  Marc has personally borrowed money himself to fund this, whilst he has also partnered with a Norwegian company.  He is using only locally sourced materials and labour to install these choo's into the camp, and if I remember correctly he has already built or has commitment for over 39 latrines.  

The latrine itself is a simple corrugated iron structured built off the ground with three steps leading up to a solid door.  Inside the technology is simple, but effective and works in two ways.

Each latrine has two compartments, divided by a purple sliding panel.  each compartment is used for a twelve month period, the human waste drops directly into the corresponding sealed compartments directly beneath the latrine. The urine is diverted off and can be used on the crops (Marc tells me research has shown the phosphate in human urine will increase crop size significantly and has no detrimental effect) the excrement that's deposited below the choo is sealed in such away that the latrine is odourless. After twelve months the purple divider is slide across and the second compartment is then used for waste, at the end of the second twelve months, the first compartment of waste has totally composted and has become perfectly safe to use on crops....
This simple technology has the potential to change lives within the IDP camp.  The elimination of shared latrines, reduces the risk of so many sanitary born illness and disease, people are beginning to regain a sense of ownership of their community.

Families are buying these choo's from Marc, for around $150 USD and making weekly repayments to him until ownership is complete.  Of course community "buy in" is imperative with any such scheme be it; sanitation, water, or education a community must feel it is there's if it's to work, and this is no different.

After showing me the latrines we take a walk around the camp.  There is no denying its basic to say the least, if not primitive in parts and luxuries are certainly not something these people experience.  There is no running water, there is no electricity, but at least now because of Marc's scheme safe sanitation is becoming a reality.  As we walk we are greeted by dozens of beautiful children, most are dressed in a range of eclectic, but clean clothes and greet us with warm open smiles, all calling out the now familiar catch cry of
     
          "howareyou mazungu?"

The smell of food cooking wafts from the small canvas structures, how women can cook and prepare food for their families in such confines is beyond me.

One man invites me into his home, and proudly introduces me to his wife.  A beautiful but tired young woman around 25/30 is sat on a small stool, cooking chapatis over a smoky small charcoal stove, inside a canvas structure no more than six foot by four foot. The man is hunched over as he can barely stand up right, but he proudly tells me this is home to himself, his wife and their three children.  Its so hot inside with the heat of the stove and the beating sun, so we move back outside, once outside he asks me if I can get corrugated iron for him to use as a roof on his home, it breaks my heart to say I can't help him, I've been warned time and again to not commit myself to anything, because the well of need is bottomless, and its impossible to help all.  Marc watches this exchange  expressionless, he too must have been asked the same questions many times.

As we walk away, we are in agreement that the roll of the mazungu here, isn't to freely give to those who must try and help themselves, it is only to assist in the process of rebuilding.

           Only give freely to those who can't help themselves - the children

Next I'm shown the camp's clinic, this has been set up by Cassandra and the team at the So They Can organisation, there is also a small simple corrugated iron meeting room, used for camp meetings and when a community voice needs to be heard   (I so wish I could share with you photos of this place, but blogging this way, it is proving difficult to upload photos)

My tour of the camp is coming to a close and Marc guides me back to the path where we came in, I'm told as always head to the blue roofs in the distance, Aberdare Ranges Primary school is a visible landmark and as I make my way out the camp, the drunk is still laying in the grass though he has rolled over, the greetings and waving is constant, the smiles are warm, this could be any small community anywhere in the world.  This is Pipeline......

Merry Christmas 2012
"It's always the right time to do the right thing"

       

Christmas Day in Nakuru

A Christmas Day quite like none I've ever experienced before, to be part of something so special, for children with so little felt like a gift in itself.

I awoke early this morning, just like every other morning. Sleep and I just don't seem to be  compatible, the cock begins to crow at 04:00 which quickly wakes the dog, who howls in protest, the dog sparks the ducks and turkey into life, and the crickets.....well I think one just lives in the roof cavity above my bed and chirps 24/7, and then around 05:00 along come the doves on the roof.

Around 06:00 my family back home and I made numerous attempts to wish each other a Merry Christmas, all with little success, they couldn't connect to my Kenyan sim, the Internet connection was too poor for Skype, so eventually we resorted to a Q&A style email conversation.  It would have been great to talk to them, but I know they a safe and well and that is all that matters.

After a light breakfast of avocado on bread (OMGosh, the avos here are enormous) the sister of my home stay and I walked across the track to the children's home (HH) Upon arrival the atmosphere was one of a little bewilderment, tinged with excitement of the unexpected/unknown

The house mums must have been hard at work since sunrise, with the fires burning hot in the ovens, the dining area was swept and washed clean and the smell of food cooking was mouth watering.

Before long the three key players of the days events arrive, and under their instruction we all kick
into action, dressing the dining area with balloons and streamers, the tree is placed in the centre of the




 room and is quickly swallowed up by a sea of gifts.... Its just fantastic,  there is a brightly wrapped gift and a goodie bag for every child at HH.

Each individual gift consists of a hand knitted bear donated by a generous group of knitters somewhere, many thousands of miles away from Nakuru, along with a sheet of stickers, and a small toy, be it a bead necklace, a book, a toy from a long forgotten McDonald's Happy Meal or a used toy car that has made its way to Kenya in a charity box.

Before too long the children are lining up to come inside, and as all seventy eight of them are ushered in through the main doors of the dining area, dusty and hot from playing outside in the baking sun of the early morning, the look of wonder on their little faces as they enter is priceless.  And for just a moment there is near silence as they look at each other as if to say
       
        "Is this all for us?"

And then excitement takes over and there is running and squealing, laughing and chatter, a few of them circle the Christmas tree and all its treasures, others appear too excited to know what to do.  before long one of the gamer boys takes a sneaky peek inside a goodie bag, all the adults both Local and Mazungu alike look on with a sense of privilege, honoured to be part of such a beautiful event.  Here are children with so little and for just one day you would think they had the world.

Before too long Father Christmas comes stomping down from upstairs, armed with some shared presents, large boxes of Lego and other construction toys generously donated by some kind soul in our global community, if only that person could see the joy their simple gesture was bringing to these children.  Santa and his helpers started by giving the children their goodie bags.  Simple brown paper bags with a few coloured pencil, stickers, a small carved wooden animal and a few lollies inside, you


would think they had each been given a PS3...

But then the amazing thing happened, as Santa started to give each child his or her own personal gift, each and every child held the gift on their lap, not one attempted to unwrap it... I thought maybe this was customary, or maybe what they had been instructed to do, but as the staff began to see this they encouraged the children to rip open their gift, it soon became apparent not one of them knew how to open a gift....  I can only assume this is because they had never received one to open before.  The little sweetie next to me looked up and asked "whose is this?"  when I said "its for you" her smile could have lit up Las Vegas, but immediately she turned and offered her gift bag to me!

The house mums are fantastic, they had made an extra special Christmas lunch for the children and they all received enormous servings of a meat stew, with potatoes, rice and chapatis... Followed by a soft drink! Something totally unheard of to them, and many couldn't finish their bottle.  Now these children certainly don't go hungry, I've seen the servings they get at meal times, beans and rice, beans and ugali, and we are talking African servings, a serving that even I can't finish, but never do they get such treats as they did today.


As the excitement of the day began to die down and they day wore on songs, face painting, balloons, glow stick and games rounded off a day I hope the children of HH won't forget this Christmas Day in a hurry, I know I most certainly won't...    

Whilst the children had been devouring their feast, I had struck up a conversation with a visiting mazungu, who began to share with me some of the work he is doing within the IDP camp.  Pipeline IDP camp is the camp/community that neighbours the school and children's home, Pipeline is where a large number of the learners from Aberdare Ranges school reside. Here was a man with a passion to help this desperate community improve itself. Improve and assist but not by means of a handout, not by giving them something for nothing, but through a partnership, he began explaining to me a pilot programme he is introducing, one of an individual self composting choo (latrine/toilet) for each family within the camp. Families buy, through a similar idea of micro finance their very own choo.

The more we talked, I became more and more intrigued to see this innovation for myself, so as the festivities drew to a close, he invited me to walk with him to the camp, and he offered to show me the latrines in-situ. Having not yet visited the camp I was keen to visit, but also a little dubious as to what I might see.....

That is another whole post unto itself.......

PS..........

22/12/12

When I reread yesterdays post I realised there was just so much I had forgotten to share....for example how could I have overlooked telling you about Nick pulling into a look out point, and as I stepped out of his dusty white car that was constantly popping out of first gear, to find that I'm gazing down from the misty roof tops of the Rift Valley.  This enormous gouge out of the landscape with its five majestic mountains lining this Volcanic valley. Legend has it, the Rift Valley is the birth place of mankind, but in 2013 it has a rickety look out, that a very persistent souvenir salesman assures me is safe, all the while he tries to sell me a row of tail holding wooden elephants with the names of the five mountains burnt on one side, and five basic Swahili greetings on the other, and then to not tell you about the little dusty footed boy who pushed his cage of rabbits through the car window for me to inspect, sadly I don't think I was assessing their "cute factor" more their "yum factor"

As we continue along the road to Nakuru there are donkeys as far as the eye can see, now some of you may know I have a soft spot for Mary's chariot, and as we drive I tell Nick the story of the time a good friend of mine knowing my love of donkeys, took me to a donkey sanctuary..(donkey sanctuary? a concept a little lost on a Kenyan I think) as we travel a little further I shared another story about an animal I love the zebra and how they sometimes breed with donkeys and the result being the aptly named zonkey... And low and behold just a few kilometres further on our journey and Nick suddenly pulls to the side of the road and pointing into some scrub land I see a cluster of wild zebra grazing in the long grass... One stood so close, and stared so directly at me I could swear he was posing for me, and nestled amongst the five others was a baby zebra being guarded by his family......

How could I have forgotten to share all of that......?

........Meanwhile back at Pipeline, (the area is named so, due to the gas pipeline that runs through it.)

On my first morning, after sharing breakfast with Mary and her family the two lovely young kiwi woman that are here showed me the way to the HH, we made our way down the dusty track leading from home, in the distance I can see some blue roofs, I'm told that is the school and HH is just beyond there....as we walk we follow small tracks worn by the feet of locals and their herds.  Just outside the school we encounter three small children ranging in age from maybe 18 months to seven years old, the youngest greets us with her tiny outstretched hand and the standard "howareyou mazungu?" The difference between these three young children and their kiwi counterparts is they were responsible for at least thirty free range goats, that were grazing alongside them, of which they appeared to have under total control. We stop for a minute and chat and instantly the youngest snuggles into me and tells me her name in Sonya...  

On arrival at HH I'm shown through by my young kiwi companions, soon we have a small entourage holding our hands, and all constantly approach with their little outstretched hand and the now familiar "howareyou mazungu" though I've now learnt that the Swahili phrase is "Sasa" to which I get the reply "Pua"

A lovely man by the name of Joseph, proudly shows me his huge vegetable plot and two large plastic covered tomato houses, all of which provide a large number of the vegetables for HH.  The diet is very simple, but healthy, nutritious and plentiful....As we continue on our tour the children excitedly pull us into the rabbit enclosure, where there are about twenty beautiful conditioned rabbits of varying ages and sizes, and nestled up alongside the rabbits is a chicken coop with dozens of free range chickens. It doesn't take a brain surgeon to realise this isn't the animal petting corner, but an integral part of their food supply.

As I continue on my guided tour, I'm shown four immaculately clean dormitories Big boys, Small boys, Big girls and yup you guessed it Small girls..every child has a bunk, with the pink or blue sheets made to exacting standards by the House-mum each morning, and on each bed, every child has his or her very own teddybear.  This beautiful teddies have been donated by a generous British soft toy company. Alongside every bed is a four drawer unit, two drawers each for the child's personal effects. On the wall is posted an outline of the days schedule, starting with 05:30 rise for wash and prayer through to the end of day with wash and prayer.

Panic not, I have no intention of boring you on a daily basis of the comings and goings of the children's home, for that would be boring for all of us... But to paint a picture of daily life is my aim..

Soon after the arrival of Emily the educational director and Rita the project manager, we are put to work transporting large amounts of donated goods into a recently built upper level of the children's home.. We proceeded to unpack and store masses of used children's clothing, books, art equipment and lots of other donated items...as well we begin to create 78 individual Christmas gifts for the children... All the while below us we can hear the children practising their Christmas songs and performance..

Nairobi to Nakuru.......

Saturday 22nd

I'm here............ But let's rewind a few hours and I will try my best to describe the journey from Nairobi to Nakuru, if words fail me it's because it truly was like nothing I've ever seen or experienced and to be honest I had a "few oh my gosh" moments.

The flight from Abu Dhabi was fairly in eventful all bar the fact that we had a fairly bumpy approach into Nairobi.. Jomo Kenyatta airport is a dated but a seemingly efficient place with low wooden panel ceilings and brown and orange swirl carpets.. The only choo (toilet) I could find was a two toilet room, up three concrete stairs with plywood doors that didn't lock but it was clean and serviced, though if I had the need to avoid customs a quick jump out the wide open window to the car park would have been my best option :o) After waiting about forty minutes in a line for my entry visa to be issued, by a sullen faced man who obviously had dropped out of charm school on his first day, I headed down the stairs to the baggage hall, to find both my bags trundling around on the carousel.. I picked em up and headed out , no customs, no stops...nobody to care I was carrying 1700 condoms... Sorry to disappoint all of you who were looking forward to seeing me on Boarder Patrol kenya style, I headed out and quickly found Nick, the friendly volunteer coordinator from So They Can (to the Pomarians reading this, no word of a lie, looking at Nick is like looking at Benny in twenty years time)

Within minutes we are headed out into the intense heat of Nairobi, Nick informs me he hopes we miss the rush hour traffic... Well I'm not sure if we missed the worst of it, but I will tell you this for nothing people, don't let me hear a single one of you ever complain about New Zealand drivers or how busy the north western is at 3:00pm, this traffic and experience took congestion and crazy to a whole new level... Nicks small white beat up Toyota was dwarfed by the enormous trucks that surrounded us, each belching out copious plumes of black smoke at window level, with the heat making it impossible to close our windows.. No cars stays in their lanes each pushes and shoves until they found a "better" way through, dozens of white vans are crammed full of, in excess of 14 people, along with their bags, sacks of vegetables and the odd chicken, Nick informs me this is the most convenient and cheapest form of public transport...

But what I found the most alarming is the dozens and dozens of street hawkers plying their wares in amongst this chaotic traffic, men dressed in ill fitting tan suites with beanies carrying anything from; car safety kits with first aid kits and reflective signs for drivers to purchase to sunglasses and car chargers for a cell phone or the latest Bond movie on DVD...all walking past offering their product, Nick bought himself a new set of reflective safety triangles, he explained he had left his on the side of the road yesterday when he had to fix a flat tyre.  As we moved through the city what I found so amazing is the people exiting the vehicle they were passenger in and crossing this six lane highway, the pedestrians that dodge in and out of this chaos called rush hour.. With many of the central barricades crumbling they use these gaps to get to the other side of the highway......

Nick is a chattering away and quickly the conversation has turned to some of the many differences in the Kenyan culture, including the Kenyan ways of dealing with marital guidance.. And as he's explaining this in great detail, a pair of hawkers, most likely father and son appear alongside his window, but this pair were different to all the others, the son possible only twelve years old is guiding the older man through the traffic, all the while the old man shakes a small metal dish of coins, as they get closer, it became obvious this elderly gentleman man was blind, both his eyes were stitched clothes and from the weathering of the skin on his face around them he had been that way for many years....
I could prattle on for ages about the drive between Nairobi and Nakuru, the hundreds, no thousands of people walking and crossing this main highway, the enormous pothole and kilometres of wheel worn ridges from thousands of trucks traveling it everyday. I could tell you about the ancient enormous bus broken down on the side of the road with three wheels off, rocks behind the remaining wheel and jacked up on bits of wood and the half a dozen men laying underneath it.. Or the ambulance that fought its way through the random chaos to go to the aide of somebody, then only a few kilometres later the remains of an obvious pedestrian versus car accident, the victims shoes, and bag still on the road surrounded by broken glass... Nick nonchalantly tells me 33,000 people each year loose their lives on this highway....

It was a journey I will never forget, it was dark as we approached Nakuru, when yet another truck was blocking the road, so knowing a diversion Nick dropped of the main highway and started driving through a township, of like nothing I'd never seen before, the road was completely dirt and massive potholes, homes were little more than huts of corrugated iron and plywood. Candles burned outside some homes, there were people everywhere, to be honest I was a little scared, my heart was in my mouth, "was this what my home stay was to be like?" I hadn't quite prepared for this, but no after a few minutes we turned onto another highway, this one quieter and in much better state of repair, and shortly we turned onto a dirt track and pulled up alongside two homes both with a very large wall surrounding them (topped with broken glass) and out came Mary, this beautiful Kenyan woman in her thirty's she shook my hand we went into what will be my home for the next five and half weeks.....

Not to sure if I can upload photos but will try next time.....

Long haul flights are a lot like childbirth

21/12/12

Long haul flights are a lot like childbirth

Here I sit, in Cattle Class, on a Virgin Australia code share flight somewhere between Sydney and Abu Dhabi, the little map tells me, we still have seven and a half hours until we reach Abu Dhabi, this stopped being quiet the excitement your brain deceives you into remembering it to be about five hours into one of these flights.  Just like childbirth, one quickly forgets how uncomfortable you become, how tiring it is and how all you want to do is sleep, but sleep is the last thing you're being granted.

To be fair this is possible one of the best long haul flights I've ever flown on,and I've done my fair share, the crew are brilliant, their service second to none, even the food has been good, never have I an airline meal where if they had offered me seconds I would have said "yes please" and honestly meant it.

Whilst a nonstop long haul flight is never going to be a "barrel of monkeys" one of the things sustained periods of sitting are good for is a bit of self reflection and "brain sorting" and this trip has proven to be no different.  

I've never been a person who struggles to talk to people, "really?" I hear you gasp, I will happily converse with those that strike up a conversation with me, but I'm not one to actively seek out conversation with everybody that crosses my path.  But as I step forth on this new and for me completely new road of  discovery, I've come to realise I have to make those opportunities, to hear the stories of others.

01:57
After what seems like an eternity, I'm finally in Abu Dhabi, with over ten hours to kill and very little to do here sleep looks like the best option.  The diversity is amazing, though the local staff are less than welcoming. But I'm only here in transit and I really need sleep .... So that's me for now, just too tired to write but want to post this whilst I have free wifi access

Not sure when I'll be posting next I will be  governed by if I am able to use my phone as a hotspot for my iPad

Sleep well
Jacq

Xxx