Out of Africa.

Safe and sound. Barely. 

I arrived in Halifax on Monday night after many weather delays and far too many hours cramped up in an airplane. The return to a rich, developed country in the midst of an opulent holiday season made me very apprehensive. Would the commercialism, capitalism and greed be remotely tolerable? Hell yes. I am really surprised to find that the dominant emotion I have felt for the last 4 days has been gratitude. I look around at all that we have, and while much of it is superfluous and excessive, I am so incredibly thankful for where we live. I feel like the luckiest person on the planet. And in many ways, perhaps I am...

My stomach has been a mess much of the last week. I think the nausea, diarrhea and abdominal pain is associated with the anti-malarials I have to take. So on Christmas day, instead of diving into a huge plate of turkey with all the fixings, I opted for a big bowl of probiotic yoghurt (not the Jolly Drinking kind!). Within 30 minutes my tongue, nasal passages and entire face had swelled up like a balloon. I became dizzy, weak, and started to hyperventilate. I was slipping into anaphylactic shock. Apparently I'm allergic to strawberry flavouring. Having gone into anaphylaxis once before, and having just returned from travels to a developing country, I had a well-stocked medical kit beside me. I jabbed a needle of adrenaline into my thigh and Pat and his mom got me into the car. After just 20 minutes of driving over well-maintained roads in a reliable car we arrived at the Halifax Infirmary, an excellent medical facility with highly educated, trained medical staff and every type of medical intervention available to man. I collapsed in triage, shaking violently from the adrenaline running through me, and when I came around I was being helped into a bed, hooked up to all sorts of beeping, blinking machines that were monitoring my vitals. My finger nails had turned cyanotic blue from lack of oxygen, and there was mucous pouring out of my mouth and nose. My heart was racing and blood pressure pounding, but I was alive. And yet, had this happened 5 days ago, I surely wouldn't be. The doctors kept me for 6 hours - until I was out immediate danger from relapse - then released me to return to Pat's parent's home for Christmas evening. My face is still swollen and body exhausted from the fight, but I couldn't be happier or more grateful. We are so incredibly privileged to live in this amazing country. Our parents, grandparents and great grandparents have provided us with the safety and security that so many people around the world will never know. Thank you. Thank you. THANK YOU. And Merry Christmas.

Stupidest Things I've Done in Kenya...

Mom - do you really want to read this?!

1. Believe that all pateurization processes are equal. Fortunately the Jolly Drinking Yogurt came up nearly as smooth and creamy as it went down.
2. Embark on a 4-hour hike at noon on the equator and forget to put on sunscreen. I was just so excited by the monkeys! When I was little I wanted to become a monkey when I grew up. When I realized it wasn't a likely option I went for the next best thing - a professor.
3. Enter a bat-filled cave in Ebola-land without a torch. When my guide asked if I had my torch with me I had to restrain the sarcasm to not respond that I'd left it with my spear. Good thing - she meant a flashlight. Torchless, we entered the 60-m long cave and proceeded to splash through puddles and mud until I was completely freaked out and couldn't go further. I turned my camera up to the ceiling, put on the flash... and wait until you see all the creepy bat pictures!
4. Give myself 3 hours to complete a 1-hour journey. Not a very exciting story. Just a lot of waiting beside the broken down matatu (a mini-Datsun truck fitted with bench seats filled to capacity - 22 people not including children and chickens - carrying an entire living AND dining room set on the roof. I would have taken a photo but I couldn't move my arms that much). After the struts broke the first time and were repaired with some handy twine, the driver loaded more people on, and surprise surprise - it broke again!
5. Let a group of aspiring hair salonists give me a rasta-do. I will need a serious hair cut when I return. Enough said.

I'm now in Nakuru, a city in the middle of the Rift Valley, and am leaving for a safari in the Massai Mara tomorrow. The work with the girls has finished. It was a wonderful three weeks, and I already miss them. The final day of class I put on a party and all the girls invited their family or guardians. It was so great to see them show-off proudly what they'd learned and created. They are so excited and inspired by the future possibilities; they tell me that next time I visit they will be taking care of me! After some speeches, a song written for me in thanks, a million photos and receiving a beautiful bolt of African fabric (the girls figured I'd come up with something creative to do with it!), I was 'showered' with thanks; the entire congregation stood up, and with the hands above, rained thanks down on me. It was one of the most moving moments of my life.

But of course this is a land of contrasts. As time went on, more and more questions had begun to arise in my head, and little red flags now appeared as huge, flashing beacons. Why is a girls' empowerment movement directed by a man? Why does the director's father not know I paid the director $250 for boarding with the father (or - how does a 29-year-old man who has never had a job pay for all the cell phones, calling minutes, and transportation he uses?). Why were the portions of the other GEWLS board members' speeches - which indicated that the men would step back now that the project was off the ground - not translated by the director into Kiswahili? Why do the prices the director gives me always add up to at least 5 times more than anyone elses? Why was I being followed, monitored (unable to have any conversations without the presence of the director), and how did the password and security codes to the GEWLS e-mail account I'd set up - for the girls only - end up in the hands of the director? Why was the director trying to insist that he be given signing authority on the GEWLS bank account? And why have the girls, except one, moved out of the director's hut in favour of sleeping with the chickens?!

My last morning, after I'd called the moto boda and was sure it was on its way, I asked these questions of the director in front of his family and a couple of the girls. I learned a lot from the answers - or rather lack of answers - shook hands and thanked those who would look me in the eye, got on the back of the moto boda and left.

If there is one thing I know, it is that the girls will persevere - GEWLS Program or not. They have already been through so much at their young ages; all are survivors. When I confronted the director I demanded he resign. Who knows if that will ever happen. Fortunately though, as I left I was able to slip the instructions for a new e-mail account into the hands of Christine, the GEWLS co-ordinator, so that I will be able to stay in contact with her and the girls without his interference. I was also able to get her mailing address (something the director had apparently forbade - he insisted everything go through him so he could skim off the top) so I can replace the supplies that will undoubtedly be confiscated now that I'm gone. I believe they will succeed, because fortunately, education is the one thing that can never be taken away from them.

Attention all bridesmaids!

Wondering what to do with that shiny, satin dress now that the party is over?! Send it to Kenya! The ladies love love love those fancy dresses. And they wear them everyday. I'm the sorriest dressed person in the land, with my muzungu (white person) cotton t-shirts and cropped pants. Every day is formal day here, and it is more common to see a well-coiffed, highly embellished woman waltz out of a mud hut than not.

This land is all about contrasts. Fancy hair and starched, pressed clothes leading a goat down the road. Cell phone and electronics dukkas (small kiosk shops) amongst hunger and famine. Shiny BMWs beside rickety boda bodas (bicycle taxis). And widespread corruption amongst people so incredibly principled.

After my last post I was on the matatu returning home, mesmerized by a rainbow so bright I honestly think I could have touched it if I could get close enough. Daydreaming, I missed my stop at Makunga and ended up in Shianda. On a returning matatu we slowed at a stop to see a large gathering of people around a man who was lying on the ground. He was bleeding from his head, and his clothes were torn exposing large gashes on his legs. I picked up a bit of the other passengers conversations, who were speaking a mix of Kiswahili and English (Kiswahili is spoken in many African countries, and is a language born of African tribal tongue and Arabic). I heard "mob justice", "thieving" and "beat him", and came to realize that this man was meeting his end at the hand of the crowd. I watched in horror as the passengers told me with great conviction that the man would be beaten to death on account of stealing. I didn't know what to think. We continued along the road to my stop - which of course was at the end of the rainbow - and I got off, feeling odd with my sense of safety and security in this land of pride.

The Snake Pit

This weekend Christine and I decided to visit the Kisumu Museum, which had some great displays on the different local tribes and the tools and techniques they've used over time. There were also the requisite crocodile and tortoise displays, and a snake pit. While we couldn't find any snakes in the pit (!), the enclosed snake displays were impressive enough. I gawked at case after case of huge, live snakes, noting 2 things in common with all: they were extremely venemous and all found in Kakamega Forest, the National Park I plan to visit next weekend! The only lesser snake among the bunch, a non-venemous python some 15 feet long and found all over Kenya, eats small antelopes. I must remember to look as little like an antelope as possible for the next 2 weeks.

For dinner we sat on the edge of Lake Victoria, watching the sun set from a patio restaurant amidst heaps of strewn garbage with no electricity or running water. You get such a terrible appreciation for the longevity of plastic in a developing nation that has little or no waste management. There is garbage everywhere, piling up and accumulating in festering heaps all over the countryside. In Canada we appreciate a false sense that all is well - "out of sight - out of mind". Nonetheless, we enjoyed the best meal I have had yet. When we arrived at the restaurant (and I use that term loosely) were were shown a tray of tilapia to choose from. We opted for a single large fish and asked them to fry it. The fish arrived a few minutes later, all of it, on a big platter. That was it. Just a fish and a small bowl of salt. We discarded the fins and plucked off chunks of flesh to eat, skin and all, and much to my surprise, it was incredible. The tastiest thing I have had yet, and rivals anything I have tasted anywhere. After gorging on fish we retreated back to the street through the dark building, thankful that the embers from the grill were still glowing or I surely would have walked right into the fire pit!

Classes this week are in crochet. We meet from 9 to 1, and then break for the afternoon. This gives the girls time to do their household chores and take care of their children. While a few have done some crochet in the past, none of them know how to read a pattern and have just relied on imagination to produce doilies. I've been teaching them all the stitches and their names, and they're working on making purses. Tomorrow begins the embellishment part - big flopsy flowers for decoration (I can't believe I'm doing this!). Next they'll start making hats, which are already a big hit. Roseline has not taken it off since I first showed it around!

I'm starting to miss home a lot. It's great to get so much good work done, but it's a tough way of life, and I'm missing the comforts of home. Christmas is going to be incredible - hot showers, a soft bed and turkey dinner... mmm mmm!

I never knew I could make something so nice.

I'm came to Kisumu this weekend to enjoy a weekend of creature comforts - running water and electricity. Kisumu is a city on the edge of Lake Victoria, and I'm traveling with the new co-ordinator for GEWLS, Christine. I was so excited to see running water when we arrived that I immediately tried to take a shower. Water dribbled out and then stopped altogether. The hotel was out of water! Fortunately the hotel staff were already on it and had ordered a tanker, and by evening I had a real shower.

My stomach is slowly catching on to Kenyan foods. Kenyans have very different ideas about foods that are easy to digest. I asked for plain, light foods last week to help settle my stomach and deal with a bad bout of diarrhea that followed the vomitting, and was given green corn, cabbage, and beans... I'll save you the details! Finally by the end of the week they understood and I have been eating bowls of rice and potatoes since. I tried to buy a belt at the craft market to hold up my pants but the nice ones were all too big... I've been working on it though, and instead just found an excellent bakery here in Kisumu that should do the trick!

Teaching was great this week - the girls learned quickly and made a pile of 'table mats' (trivets or coasters, as we call them). They were eager to see if they could sell them at the tourist craft market so Christine and I brought some to Kisumu, which has the biggest craft market in this part of Kenya. Unfortunately none of the vendors were able to buy right now, as the market is very slow around Christmas, but a number of them have placed orders for January. Now Christine has the contacts and they've told her the designs and sizes they want, so we just have to get hooking more mats! The vendors are also asking to see what else the girls will make, and once crochet classes begin we'll be turning out lacey skull-caps. The girls are especially excited about them, and I think they'll sell well to non-tourists too.

Joseph has been sick with Malaria this week, but is as ambitious as ever. He donated some land to the GEWLS project and has already partially put up 3 classrooms. Classes will need to move from the rented church in January since it is also used to teach school children (the schools are on a month-long break right now). The big thing that was missing was 6 doors, so I placed an order for them this week - they were only $20 each! Having a permanent school will give so much to the program. The girls will be able to store their equipment (the supplies I brought plus 2 sewing machines Joseph donated) and have a safe place to meet and work. Since they are not charged tuition we are working hard to find markets for the items the girls make so the program will sustain itself. The girls have decided that all proceeds from sales of anything they make during class will be split with 50% going to the GEWLS program to replenish supplies and 50% going to the girl who made the item. I can already see the difference an opportunity like this makes. I've bought a mat from Myriam (and from many of the other girls too), a shy girls who sits in the corner. It's green with a yellow and pink butterfly, and I paid her $5 for it - a high price in Kenyan standards but pennies to us; I don't want to artificially inflate the market price too much and create an unstainable market, but I also want to support the project. The $2.50 she will receive for her work (approx. 3 hours) is more than a 'good' wage here, which is around 63 cents per hour (a total of $1.90). The $2.50 that goes to GEWLS will buy enough supplies to teach another girl the trade. When she finished making the mat she sat looking at it and said quietly "I never knew I could make something so nice." Indeed. Neither did I.

Abs of Steel.

That's what you get from 24 hours of dedicated vomiting. Yup. Thursday night was a bit of a disaster, and sadly, I had to cancel Friday's class. The girls were so disappointed. "But we have no teacha!", they exclaimed. Apparently Kenyan's don't vomit much. There was quite a bit of curiosity about the whole thing. People came into my hut to stand there and watch! There was much discussion about what medicines they should give me but I finally convinced them to let me just get it all out - all of it - and then I'd be better. And I am. Phew!

So classes began in earnest today, and I mean that literally. The girls showed up early, sat quietly with full attention when I spoke, and then worked as quiet as mice for 3 hours straight! I asked them if they'd like to take a break to drink the tea they brought but they said "No! We like to do this work!". There were only quiet whispers and giggles, and they were so happy to learn. If I could only bring them back to Canada to teach my 1st year students how to learn... The only time things fell apart was when I picked up some of the mitumbas I'd bought for fabric and started to cut them up. "Oh NO! Why do you do that?! Why do you cut up the new-used clothes?!" they cried. After a bit of translation it was decided they would bring in their old-used clothes for fabric, and trade them for the new-used clothes I bought. Sounds like a fair trade to me! So that's what brings me to Kakamega today - to buy the girls new-used clothes. They're going to be so excited tomorrow morning!

Otherwise I'm really enjoying living with the Mukhalukhas. They are incredibly kind, generous people. Joseph, the father, is incredibly knowledgeable and keen to talk about everything and anything. And I mean everything. He had nothing to read the other day until he found a Harlequin romance novel... I've got to finish the book my mom gave me on the Biafran War and give it to him as soon as possible!

There are a lot of people living on the family compound, and I'm not sure yet if I've figured out yet who's family and who's not. Any of the girls that had too far to travel for class have been taken in by Joseph, and he is also raising a few of abandoned children - 3-7 years old. This seems to be the Kenyan way of life - if you have, you give, until you have no more. Words to live by.

On the right path...

Of all the people to sit beside on the bus from Nairobi to Isongo, I happened to sit beside a business and social studies professor from a university in Nairobi. Dr. Hebron Were was traveling to Kakamega to lecture at a new university here. When I told him what I was coming here to do, he got very excited an wanted to get involved. Hebron has 2 Master's degrees and a PhD, all studying sustainable development and marketing - exactly what I know NOTHING about! So, after finishing up his lecture he came out to the classroom (a mud hut) to conduct the first official class of GEWLS. He gave us an excellent lecture on building a grassroots program, explaining to the girls how important it is to learn new skills and open new doors, even when you're not sure where they'll lead. He talked to them about how to take a dream, or a vision, and make it a reality. It was incredible, and I couldn't possibly have planned for anything better. The students were very engaged and asked lots of questions - so much so that he's decided to come back in a few weeks to see how we're all doing. On top of that, he's even offered to develop a curriculum for the women so they will know how to keep building on the program long after I leave! The long-term goal for GEWLS is to build a vocational school for women. Somehow I ended up sitting for 7 long, dusty hours on a bus beside a man whose career it is to develop new educational opportunities in the region!

So today I came in to Kakamega to prepare for tomorrow's class. I was able to buy a big bag of m
mitumba (second-hand clothing) for next-to-nothing and tomorrow we start hooking the rugs! I'm really keen to see what kinds of patterns and designs they come up with. I hope to be able to post some pictures of the work but the internet connections, like everything else, run on 'Africa time'. I'll try this weekend.

I'm beginning to settle in to Kenyan life: waking up to cows mooing in my window, riding on the back of a moto boda through cane fields (motorcycle taxi), chasing the chickens around the yard (dinner), listening to Christmas carols blast out of the car-battery-operated CD player (A Partridge in a Pear Tree in Swahili!), and taking my first real Kenyan shower (after 3 days I decided it was time... too bad my tan washed away!). Of all I think the shower was the best - water warmed over the cooking fire and a scoop with which to pour it over my head.

I'm going to get back to the family compound before it starts to pour. Hope all is well with everyone, and thanks for following along - it doesn't feel so lonely this way!

Sincerely,
Obama's Sista