Final musings...

This is me in my one African outfit (the peak of fashion in Kitale) with the great welcome back from my housemates!
I'll write more here when I'm more awake. It's past midnight now and I need to work tomorrow. These Canadians keep time much better than Kenyans. If I'm late, they will actually notice!

Gede & Aberystwyth, ca. 1300AD

Two ruins, contemporaries from times long ago. The first- a mysterious, crumbling walled trading town 'lost' for 600 years and rediscovered on the east coast of Africa, the other a castle in disrepair for the last 600 years on the west coast of the British Isles. I wonder if, 700 years ago, when people still lived in both places, life would have been similarly comfortable for them.

All in a day's 'walk'- I mean 'work'

A new shop in the touristy seaside village of Watamu was a welcome find. This place seemed to keep at least 6 guys steadily employed making beautiful sandals made to order. From the wall of examples, people simply chose the style and colour combination they wanted, figured out the size (i.e Canadian ladies size 9= size 40! What a blow for the ego!), paid a deposit, and picked up the finished product 24 hours later. Too cool!

A mother's love

On my last morning at Mwamba Field Study Centre I was woken up at dawn to RUN along the beach about 20 minutes to watch a turtle laying eggs. I was SO excited! In my six months before there had not been one turtle nesting, though volunteers patrol the beach every night hoping to sight one. If someone spots a turtle and reports it, they get paid 500Ksh (about $9CDN) for their troubles, so the TurtleWatch organisation is pretty much guaranteed to know of every turtle nest up and down the strand.
Usually turtles nest under the cover of darkness- it was really a treat to see this one without flashlights!
When we arrived, the mama was EXHAUSTED. She had already finished the laying bit and was steadily covering up her clutch with sand.


When she had finished covering, she struggled up a bank to get back to the water. It was absolutely amazing watching this ancient-looking creature use flippers to move her heavy body up hill in slow, jerky, laboured movements.


At the top of the hill, she paused to look at the view, and the stretch of slippery sand she still had to cross to get to the water.


The grooves and furrows in the sand left by her flippers, shell, and tail were so cool.


Victory!


In one wave, she was gone.


Her home. This is the next place she will meet any babies that survive.

And so started another day.

Thomas and the Fish

I love this photo because we are so happy about this dressed up, but dead fish. How wierd to be so happy about something so dead. Anyways, it was tasty.

The fish is a Tuna, and was caught somewhere close by. The other cook bought it in the morning in town and came back with it in a plastic grocery bag, with its head and tail both sticking out. The cook in the picture is Thomas. He was my other kiswahili 'teacher', together with Francis. Thomas is immensely patient with people learing languages, and has great pride in the swahili language. I am getting on to more advanced vocabulary this time, because he tried to teach me the word 'to reheat'. Apparantly that word is not used very much because Francis, my other adopted 'teacher', challenged him on it- he didn't want to see me being led astray by false phraseology. We had a tense few minutes as they were both sent scrambling for the dictionary, to prove their honour. In the end, the older Thomas won out.

Harry's House

This is Harry (centre) and a neighbour building his house. Harry is 12 years old, and figures he wants some space. The equivalent of the teenager moving to their own 'pad' in the basement of a suburban house in Canada. Usually a boy gets his own house when he has been circumcised, which usually happens more around age 14-16, but who knows, maybe it happened earlier for Harry. Or maybe he just wants to have his own place. He has three younger brothers, and only the next in line, Harold (age 10?), will move in with him.

The house frame is made of thin poles of trees found wherever, then the gaps are filled in with small rocks, cement, and ??? The soil here is pure sand, so there isn't much hope of making a good mud-clay mixture or bricks like everything is done up-country.

Harry's dad is named Francis. He is the gardener at the field study centre where I lived two years ago. I had gotten to know his family a bit and took this photo when I went back to visit them two weeks ago. Francis was one of my swahili 'teachers', and we got on quite well. He was the first person I had ever met who got married when he was 15 (the second was a 28 year old woman I worked with in Mt. Elgon). Francis is 28 now. I asked him this time why he got married so young. He said that his father was giving him some land that he was to be his- like early inheritance. Francis was also put in charge of caring for his mother and younger brother, since his father decided it would be easier to just divorce Francis' mother and marry another woman instead of staying married to two woman at once and caring for two families, which is the normal tradition. Francis thought it would all be too much work for his mom to take care of everything alone, so he married a girl to help his mom around the farm & household. In the meantime, Francis learned how to be an expert gardener.

Now Francis's 'little' brother is quite big and is just starting high school. He wants to be a doctor and is really bright. The only problem is finding school fees for him- so he hasn't actually started school. I think he may start next term, and try to catch up. It will be tricky on such a limited income to find fees each term. Francis does hope to start an indigenous tree nursery next month, which should help a bit.

A little layover...

A Canadian, an Irishman, a Kenyan and her daughter are gathered together in Wales... Sounds like the starting of some joke? Not really... I am happily sitting in the upstairs of the townhouse of some dear friends I met the last time I was in Kenya. Now Donall and Nancy are married and have moved to Wales with their daughter Popet where Donall studies. Two years older, we have all had quite a lot happening in our lives, and it is fantastic to catch up with them again!

I must say, I love this free layover option with British Airways!! I spent yesterday with another friend of mine from college days- and her husband and new baby (Keiko/ Richard/ Noah for those of you in the know) and will return to them (Watford- close to London) Thursday night after leaving this green, sheep-filled country of Wales.

It is so odd to be in such a juxtaposed culture. A culture that still feels a bit strange- but a bit closer to my own. I was struck by how British the buildings looked- and all the food that looked like it was from a British candy shop... ha ha ha... Silly Allison.

Last time when I returned from Kenya I experienced reverse culture shock in a big way. This time, although things seem a bit strange (like pre-washed and cut vegetables in the supermarket, traffic that follows traffic rules) I'm sure it won't be as harsh a readjustment. It is really good to have this time with friends to talk about the differences between Kenya and 'the West'- people who know both places so well.

Malindi life

Malindi... This was what I thought Africa was like when I lived here two years ago. I had travelled a bit then, but really, my life was here on the coast for six months, so I got used to how life was here and it was normal. Now it seems so WEIRD!!!

Italians everywhere... white sand everywhere, not red dust/ clay; loud reggae music pounding in matatus as opposed to quieter rides in Kitale. Dew and chilly mountain mornings have been changed for stifiling coastal heat (which I actually love quite a lot). Paved roads & tons of vehicles have replaced the packed-earth streets and donkeys of the mountain. People on the coast walk slower, but move quicker (ie they have access to public transport) wheras at Mt Elgon people walked very fast, but got not much done in a day, as everything was so far apart.

The ground here is so sandy I can barely call it soil. Kitale and Mt Elgon had some of the most fertile land in the country. Tourists are a big part of life here but I never saw one tourist come up the mountain. I was the first mzungu many children had seen! Women in long black islamic 'bui-buis' and men with the white flat topped hats are quite common here- at Mt. Elgon I doubt anyone had ever talked with a Moslem person either!

I am staying at Mwamba, the field study centre for A Rocha Kenya, the Christian conservation organisation I volunteered with two years ago. Some of the core people are still around, though some have been promoted into other postitions (yay! It's so great to see the former handy-man now a vital part of the ASSETS eco-bursary fund, and the former housekeeper getting formal cook training at a posh hotel down the beach!). Otherwise, there are a lot of new faces, and a lot of changes. Some good, some neutral..., some .... It is generally the same atmosphere though and I am totally enjoying this little visit and volunteering stint.

Last week I was at a conference in Tigoni, just outside Nairobi. There were about 250 leaders from various christian and environmental organisations across Africa, plus random other NGO workers (that's where I fit in). I went to the first conference of this two years ago, so thought I'd take in this second one. It was so exciting to be sitting in these huge rooms talking about environmental change from a christian perspective- being good stewards of God's earth- with so many diverse people. Africa is a place with huge environmental degredation- a lot from rampant deforestation, uneducated farming practices, and poverty. Overpopulation seems to be a major factor in all of this, though that topic curiously wasn't addressed at the conference. Most people there seemed to believe the population wasn't a problem at all- just the way land is handled... but these things are related!!! Hmmmm... Those of us from the 'west' had our own conversations about how our part of being the major contributors to global warming has hugely affected life in Africa. It was quite saddening. At home we joke about liking this global warming because it means my dad can grow lemons in our backyard. Here it means a much more sad story.

I'm writing now from a cybercafe so can't post photos- perhaps when I stop in England/ Wales on my way home I can put some more up! I'm leaving Kenya Sunday night, March 19, but will arrive in Canada Friday night, March 24th.

Robert the Cow-herder

Here is Robert the cow-herder. He is 18 now and was born in Uganda, but came to Kenya the first time at age 11 to hire himself out as a cow/goat herder. He has been back and forth since then, usually handing over all his meagre earnings to his father. His father sounds like an unsavoury character. He has had five wives, but each has left in succession because he beat them. The dad now brews local beer and sells it. Robert himself aspires to earn enough money to buy a bicycle, be a boda-boda driver, and earn money to buy a farm at home in Uganda. He's a pretty cool guy who likes playing cards with me and the kids/ teenagers who come to visit.

Robert studied until grade two in school, but is totally illiterate and can barely recognise his own name. I gave him the book he is holding because the illustration on the front is of a cheerful guy with an old radio on his shoulder, leading some cows to pasture. This is exactly how Robert looks, so I decided, despite the fact he couldn't read a lick of it, that book should belong to him and no other. So, I sat down with him one morning and showed him the book, and we talked about education, and the importance of knowing how to read. I asked him to learn to read the book so that he could tell me what it says. I don't know what will happen with this guy, but I do know he was SO proud of the present, and wouldn't let anyone touch it without first washing their hands... quite an unusual thing since most things get dirty and wrecked pretty quick here... people don't have the same idea of keeping things neat (and dust & mud gets everywhere so it seems futile). Last I heard, he was getting reading lessons from one of his buddies who is in school now :)

On the topic of radios, it seems like guys and their radios here are like guys and their cars at home... Robert has an old beater that is barely held together- and no front panel. A cocky 15-year old named Abiud on the other hand was showing off a slick blue and silver model that looked like a cd player (but couldn't be, could it??). The men on staff have sturdy, sensible, low-cost models.

School life

A bit off-kilter, this was taken by someone who didn't know how to handle a camera. Note the teenage students sitting two to a desk, in an unlit classroom. The students & parents here are pioneers- education is not highly valued in their community, where everyone feels life is complete as long as you have a collection of cows, land to graze them on, and piles of kids of your own. Many of the students want to learn so badly they are finding their own fees through very scarce after-school jobs.
I have no idea what the teachers do in schools when it rains. When I was at this scool, I had to stop my lesson all together. I got all the students (luckily only 25 of them in the whole school- it's public but it's just starting out- <10 students in each class) to come make a semi circle at the front of the class, with me and a section of the chalkboard in the middle. This worked well as the lesson was on ukimwi (HIV/AIDS), a delicate subject here.

One day I noticed almost every child in a class had carried with them a small plastic container. I asked why, and someone said, "oh- to carry water for smearing the classroom." "What the heck does smearing the classroom mean?" I asked innocently, in kiswahili. Here are some students smearing... this creates a solid sheet over the dirt floor, to cut down on dust. The process is done on walls, floors, etc of all buildings a few times a year. The other component of 'smear'? Cow dung. Yummy. At least they are being resourceful!!!

Water, water everywhere... and lots to drink!!

The day the rains started I chuckled to myself as I saw so many people running flat out when they saw clouds coming their way. Being from the west coast of Canada, and well used to rain, I thought this was pretty funny. It's a good thing I didn't laugh out loud! I have never seen or heard such pounding rain in my life! And hail!! This was the start of the rainy season... thunder, lighting, clay that sticks to your shoes inches thick... slipping and sliding all over the place, temporal streams coming to life in the middle of paths and fields- crazy! Now I see why so many people love wearing gumboots here... (I started teaching gumboot dancing...)

Here is a photo of Dinah, collecting the water off the roof. Iron sheets as roofing material are sturdy, and allow you to collect a lot of water but they are LOUD! You can't hear a word someone is saying unless they are immediately next to you... even then it's difficult. Dinah and her husband have a farm quite far from ICM so instead of commuting they have rented a place in town. One of many downfalls is that it is just one room- not enough space to keep their three children with them... so, the kids were sent to live with Dinah's mom in town.

The same day this photo was taken, there was a fire in a cookhouse of a woman in the trading centre. Each household has a cookhouse separate from the main sleeping area. In this case, excess 'firewood' (Maize stalks) were kept too close to the fire and started to burn themselves. The cookhouse was made of mud and sticks so the walls were somewhat safe. All the women in the area formed a haphazard bucket brigade, bringing their buckets of water they had JUST collected. Thank God it had just rained... if the fire had started two hours before there wouldn'thave been water available to fight it and it could have spread to all the other houses' straw rooves very easily!

This beautiful water fall was about a half hour walk away. The water is heading to Lake Victoria, and eventually, the Nile. I loved it- an adventure in itself just to reach this viewpoint, but very worth it. Many locals still follow spirit worship, and those that do believe this place is haunted. Apparantly many people have seen a large snake-like creature that is as big around as a fat person. It is different colours, depending on who sees it, and lives in the rocks. It reminded me of an evil version of the Loch Ness monster. Many beliefs here on the mountain are pretty demonic. I'm glad I spend most of my time with the Christian folk, who are not held by the power of witchcraft & superstitions.

Chakula

This is one of my favourite photos of some kids of staff that always came to hang out and play games with me :) They are showing me a grasshopper they caught, ripped the back legs off, and intended to eat!?!


I couldn't resist taking a whole series of photos on the cooking of this entire chicken. I had heard stories about my grandmother and great-grandmother slaughtering a chicken, plucking it, and cooking it, but I had never seen it for myself. It was a biology lesson I'll never forget... Here is Mary singing off the remaining feathers... (note the cooking stove- besides an open fire, this is how everyone cooks)


In many households, food is scarce. This woman is the wife of the watchman at ICM. They have ten children together, but don't own any land. Instead they scratch out a living on a plot of rented land. Then they cook, very slowly, food on an inefficient fire made of inferior buring materials... ie corn stalks. I was invited over for lunch one day and was thrilled to share food with them. The culture there is for the children to be away from visitors though, so I only got to eat with the parents. The oldest son is 22 years old and in grade 10. He decided to go back to school after four years away, and is now struggling to find his own school fees as his illiterate parents absolutely can't afford it. If he can complete his education, his family will have much more of a chance at 'making it' in the future than it does now.

trading centres

There don't seem to be any real towns in Mt Elgon. At least not in any of the areas I went to. Instead, there were a string of trading centers, evenly spaced by 2-3 km all the way to the forest, on both sides of each valley. The trading centre where I lived was called Makutano. I went to a large town called Makutano today in West Pokot district, but these two places should not be confused. They are named the same thing because Makutano means 'crossroads' or something like that...
Makutano in Mt Elgon was a typical centre, with a mill for grinding maize into flour, a barber, a selection of small dukas- either general purpose household goods or an assortment of small dry grocery items- plus fresh eggs, if they were delivered that day by the When you buy eggs they just put them individually into a small plastic bag. To trays. Pray you don't trip on the way home :) The food dukas all have bars on the windows- this is convention everywhere in Kenya. You can also buy sodas from these places, though without electricity anywhere, they will be anything but cold.


There are also a selection of small cafes, all selling the same thing. For 25 cents Canadian I could get a delicious cup of sweet milky chai and an 'andazi' deep fried dough thing. That combination proved to be the lunch of champions many days when we were on the road all day.

I wonder what it will be like when this place gets paved roads and traffic. Right now it is only a few vehicles- transport trucks filled to the brim with the small purple onions they produce in vast quantities for LOW prices while the middlemen got huge profits for transporting the goods for less than one day. (there is a solution- the people could form cooperatives and market their goods together, but instead they just look out for themselves personally and have very little trust for their neighbours- so are reluctant to form partnerships with them. The other vehicles are mainly police.


So, when we walked down the road now we greeted many people... I would collect small children trailing behind in large numbers- like I had a giant 'kid magnet' stuck to my back- and we would compete for the road with goats, cows, a few stray (friendly) dogs and of course donkeys, which are the substitute for transport trucks. They carried water, bamboo from the forest, veggies... If the pace of life changes, this slow meandering from one trading centre to the next will change too.

Not far from our centre was the only health clinic in a few hours walk's radius. It had just very basic facilities. I went there to get some information from the VCT (voluntary counselling and testing centre- for HIV/AIDS). They have a big sign at the road, but unfortunately it's only staff member left, so now the services are not available. If someone gets up the courage to go for an HIV test to find out their status, they need to travel half a day to the district hospital. Not cool. Here's a photo of the reception area. I took it for my sister, who also is a receptionist at a walk-in clinic.