ROAD TRIP!!!

11th of November, 2009

The residents of Cheryl's and the children in the foster program that attend high school all go to boarding schools in various parts of the country. When it is time for the holidays, most of them put themselves on a Matatu heading back to Nairobi leaving most of their belongings in a trunk at the school to wait for their return after the break. Those few who are leaving high school forever (YAY!!) must bring those trunks and all their belongings home with them. Since that would be incredibly difficult on a 3 hour bus ride, Someone needs to go and get them when they are finished with their exams, this time I was able to tag along!
The ride is long, but its amazing to drive through Kenya and see more of the country and the difference in landscape once you leave the city. On this gorgeous Tuesday morning we headed down a road that was familiar to me, as it is the same one taken to the Mara and the IDP camps. Its familiarity did not lessen its beauty. We drove past the great Rift Valley look out points, fields, forests, slums, farms and in the distance, Mburuku IDP camp with its new chickens and precious dust babies to to farthest from Nairobi I had ever been. We reached the small city of Nakuru and did a little shopping for Mary (our social worker) and her family as well as purchasing treats for the kids who were unfortunate enough to not be graduating and so had another few weeks of school left. As we left Nakuru, it felt like we were leaving Kenya, it was so different from Nairobi. Everything was green, and quiet in a calm, comforting sort of way. There were trees and shambas (farms) and children running around and waving at us as we drove past. It was so beautiful and peaceful, and here, tucked behind some trees and a few bushes was the house where Mary grew up and where her children still live with their grandmother. It was a small place, but comfortable and peaceful. A lovely place to spend the morning, retirement, your life....
After visiting with Mary's family for a bit we headed off to pick up James and Maria, who had been waiting for us all day. It was great to see some of the kids whom I had not seen since I first arrived in Kenya right before they started their term. The girls were happy to see us and thankful for the treats we had brought. They laughed and chatted with us as their school mates looked on and wondered what the Mazungus were doing there. One girl, Rhoda, I had never met before but she walked right up to me and hugged me and hung on me the whole time we were at the school. The boys, when we went to their school, were much more reserved but equally happy to see us. I realized how much I missed having them around and my excitement for the end of the term and their return home grew as we hung out with them for a bit before we left.
The drive home was fun, not lacking in laughter and chatter and singing. We arrived back at the home late, but happy. Two more members of our family were home and more would be following shortly.
Coming home is always a good day.

SOCIAL WORK

9 of November, 2009

**Disclaimer**The following will most likely be difficult to read, but it is life for many here in Kenya, and, I would venture to say, in much of Africa.

I have such a new respect for social workers after today. Especially ours. Her name is Mary and she has two kids that live about three hours away with her mother while she gives so much to provide for her family with her time and effort and heart to the motherless children here at Cheryl's.
The files of the children are a disaster. Many of them don't have one and the ones that do are out dated and disorganized. So, I decided to lend my magnificent organizational skills to make them a little easier to deal with. The task is a big one that begins with me familiarizing myself with the back stories of some of the children. I spent most of my day in a chair in the office reading these files on the verge of tears/in tears. Let me tell you about how the children at Cheryl's were:
Some have been abandoned. One was left on a bus at approx 4 years old. We have no idea what the name his mother gave him is.... many are not sure when their birthdays are or how old they are.
They have been tortured, beaten, burned, hit repeatedly in the head with blunt objects and pimped out by their own fathers.
They have gone days without food, slept in the streets, under lorries, in gutters.
There are those who witnessed the murder of their mothers at the hands of their fathers.
Many were unable to go to school, forced to stay at home, beg in the streets to provide and care for younger siblings.
They have watched their parents die of AIDS and other diseases, some do not know how their parents were killed.
They were displaced, cast out, unloved and unwanted....

Now, let me tell you how the children at Cheryl's are:
They are healing. They are loved. Accepted. Wanted. They are being educated. Encouraged to follow their dreams. They have food, shelter, clothing. They are well behaved, well liked and well adjusted children. They are a part of a family that looks out and cares for one another.

Seeing where they are now, you would never know where they used to be.

They are living proof of the power, grace and goodness of God.

THE K.A.S.

A Haiku

yellow, black, hairy
killer African spider
fear, screaming follows

WHO DOESNT LOVE A DAY FULL OF BRUCE??

18 of November, 2009

Today we brought some of the older kids to Kieren's house because school was not yet out for the younger ones and the big kids had not had much to do or anyone to do it with.
So 10 of us piled into the 7 seater and we made our way across town to the house with the big T.V. The night before Kieren and I had visited the grocery store and purchased sodas, chips and cookies for the kids as well as food for me to make lunch (which, by the way was so good).
When we got to the house it began to rain making it a perfect day for a movie day. The first movie- "Die Hard." It had been years since I'd seen it and the kids love the explosions etc in any movie so I knew it would be a good time.
After the movie was over the rain had stopped so I suggested that we go outside and sit on the veranda, or listen to music, or that they peruse the library. All of my suggestions were promptly, and politely shot down. They wanted to watch another movie. The second movie? "Die Hard 2". They loved it even more than the first one.
Kieren got home just after five and we were just finishing, you guessed it, "Die Hard 3." There was of course, no way that we were going to watch the first three and not the last one so we made dinner and settled into what is in my opinion, the best of the Die Hard movies--"Die Hard 4.0"
There was waaaaay to much violent T.V. being watched but at the end of the day, it was a good one and the kids enjoyed themselves which is what really matters.
And besides, how can a day FULL of Bruce Willis not be good?

SINGING AND SPARKLING- A (VERY) SHORT STORY

6th of November, 2009

Once upon a time, in a land over the ocean; a land teaming with wild life and rich in culture and beauty, there lived a group of children. These were no ordinary children. Although their short lives had been characterized by difficulty and grief they were children who had been marked by the hand of God. For although they had faced the harshness of life on earth, their hearts were pure and their gifts many. They had been given the gift of a life started over, the gift of a safe place to sleep and a full stomach, the gift of a new day and most importantly, the gift of Joy. Joy found in each other, in this new life they had bee given, and in music.
You see, they loved music. They loved to sing and to dance and because they had been given these incredible gifts, and because their lives were harder than most, they enjoyed this past time and found more pleasure in it than most. Like those who have been given incredible gifts, they delighted in sharing theirs with others.
They had heard of a home of retired x-pats who needed some music in their lives so they put on their good clothes, piled into the van and drove to the other side of the town to share their gift.

The children's performance sparkled. Their voices pure, their faces, smiling. The joy of the "oldies" was evident in their laughter, and smiles and clapping hands. When the music part of the performance was over the children mingled with the residents of the retirement home impressing the old folks, and bringing more laughter with them. Their job was done, their gifts shared. They drank sodas and played with sparklers and laughed and talked and reminded us all again how good life is.

WOULD YOU LIKE CHIPS WITH THAT? -Overcoming the Language Barrier in Kenya

Because Kenya was once inhabited by lots of British people (still is) it has adopted many of its ways of speaking and spelling words such as colour and aeroplane. It is a great source of amusement and confusion to me as well as an annoyance when I fail to use the 'correct' word for an item because its so long since I've heard it spoken. Occasionally, I use the words that I'm used to for the sheer joy of seeing the looks of confusion on the faces around me and the thrill that comes with feeling as though I've exacted some sort of revenge on people for making perfectly normal words and phrases no longer normal.
Here are some of my faves:
chips= french fries
crisps= chips -these two kill me. Chips are chips and fries are fries and crisps
aren't anything. Unless you are talking about chicken and then the
word you are looking for is 'crispy'
biscuits= cookies
boot= trunk (of car)-dont get me started on this one.
jumper= sweater
DJ=tuxedo
poppin/nippin=going out/coming in ie: “I'm going to nip to the store for some milk”
seriously?
posh= fancy/rich- this is just a silly word that really shouldn't be used unless
you're talking about spice,as in one of the spice girls.
Half ten= ten thirty.- no. just. no. It can be half past the hour, thirty minutes
until the hour, but half 'whatever number' just isnt
acceptable... I totally use this one all the time btw.
Maths=math- this one I just cant get behind. Why are we adding letters to words
that have no need for them?

So there it is, almost three months in Kenya and I'm still having difficulty communicating with the locals. Maybe next month I'll finally get it.....

IDP PART II

As our van raced along the road at breakneck speeds through sheets of rain and walls of fog I breathed a quick prayer for safety and repositioned myself in my seat behind our more than capable driver and tried to get some sleep. I saw no point in worrying and freaking out. If I die, I die. At the moment there was nothing I could do about it. And besides, I was tired.
The day had started early. I had awoken before the sun, or maybe the sun was up but was covered by the thick dark clouds that were dumping water all over Nairobi. Either way, it was dark. And rainy. And my freshly laundered (but somehow still not totally clean) clothes were out on the line. Dang. I ran outside to grab them but it was too late. They were soaked through. Oh well.
I went back inside and made myself a cup of tea as I began to get ready for my second day at the small Internationally Displaced Persons Camp called Mburuku. I was excited to go back. In the very short amount of time that I had spent there before I had come to love the children that live in the camp, dubbed “dust babies” for the simple fact that they were constantly covered in dust. Head to toe COVERED in dust. They were sweet and tragically innocent as their parents struggled to carve out a life for them in their tents in the desert. Having been displaced two years ago after the post election violence many of them are too young to remember what their lives were like before the IDP camp and so they spend their days happily running around barefoot and playing with dirt and rocks and sticks. They are precious, and I was looking forward to spending the day with them.
The drive there was an adventure in itself. We hadn't reached the end of my block before we were hit by a matatu that was driving on the wrong side of the road. James, our driver, rolled down his window and began yelling at the matatu driver and conductor while Irene (who is the director of VICDA) sat in the back laughing hysterically. I could tell it was going to be an interesting day. It was only a tap and so we continued on our way down the muddy, rocky, bumpy street in the rain dodging pedestrians (or were they dodging us?) and cars who paid no attention to the center divider line. Before long we cleared the city and began the 2 hour drive to Nakuru where the IDP camp is located. During the drive I spent my time alternately trying to sleep and laughing quietly while Irene and James yelled at each other in Swahili. At one point, Irene asked me how things were at Cheryl's and began to recount a story of how she had taken a young boy to Cheryl's after finding him thrown out of the home he was staying in and ended up on the street, alone. His name is Ruben, he is 16 and in form 2 in high school. I have been able to spend some time with Ruben, he is a sweet, shy, bright boy. An IDP, he was orphaned during the post election violence. Irene was called because the people who were sponsoring him decided that they no longer wanted him so they threw him out with nothing. No place to go and no money to get there even if he had a place. Irene was furious, and after telling those people exactly what she thought of them she took him to Cheryl's where he is thriving. Half way through the story Irene had to stop as she was overcome with emotion (her story is incredible and I will share it one day soon). It is amazing how much this woman gives. How passionate she is about what she does and the children that she helps. She is definitely someone that I would want fighting on my side. And I consistently find myself awed and humbled in her presence.
By the time we arrived at Mburuku the rain had stopped and the children ran to gather around our van. I noticed that they were a little less dusty. This, I found out, was because some volunteers from VICDA had provided some underground tanks and was paying to have them filled so now the people had water!! This is a big deal and a huge step in making their makeshift town home. As several of the people that we came with got in the van to go into town to buy the supplies for the day the rest of us began playing with children. In a matter of moments I was completely covered by them. They hung on me and tackled me and reached to be held. We chased each other and played soccer (with a bunch of bags bundled into a ball shape and held together by string) and just had fun being together. It was a good way to spend time as we waited for the others to get back with the medical supplies and the doctors that would be using them.
Not surprisingly, they were late. By about four hours. It was a fun, but long and tiring four hours and once the doctors got there they quickly set to work transforming the small school house (room) into a doctors office complete with “examining rooms” and tables for all the medicines and stations where they would measure and weigh the children and administer vaccines. Shortly after they arrived it began to rain and the room became very crowded and very loud very quickly. While we were waiting for the doctors to finish setting up one of the children came and stood in front of me, his small hands in mine. It wasn't long before his head was drooping and he was falling asleep while standing there so I scooped him up and he promptly nestled himself into my arms and fell fast asleep. He slept there in my arms for a good hour while the noise in the room grew louder and people packed in. He barely stirred. It was sad when his mother finally came to fetch him. Her arms is where he belonged, but I couldn't help feeling like mine were a little too empty after she took him away. As the afternoon wore on it began to rain harder and the room became hot and stuffy. There was nothing for us to do so we just stood there, doing our best to stay out of the way in the small cramped room. Because I had nothing else to do, and because it was driving me crazy I began to arrange all the boxes of medications, arranging them in neat rows and making sure that they all faced in the same direction. This, of course, made the pharmacists laugh at me so I stopped. Shortly after it was time for us to eat as we had not eaten anything all day. This was, like the rest of the day, another adventure. James had gone into town and picked up dinner for us-Nyoma Choma. A favorite dish of Kenyans, it is goat meat on bone. Now, I pride myself in the fact that I will eat anything at least once. This time, however, it was not going to happen. I contended myself with a couple of apples and the three peanut m&ms I had left from a bag I had purchased earlier at a rest stop and which had cost me a fortune by the way but were totally worth it. After our dinner the rain subsided a bit so we went back outside to play with the children. We spent some time singing songs and chatting with them as it began to get dark and the children began to disperse. At one point, I decided to walk over to the movie set that was being built in the middle of the camp and ask some questions. The film being shot at Mburuku is a Danish film about a doctor in Darfur. The cast and crew were incredibly rude and I was shocked at the way they treated the people in the camp. Not a movie that I will go to see....
It was dark by the time everyone was done being treated and the rain was coming down harder than it had all day. The doctors needed a ride back to their homes so we waited in the dark cold school room as James dropped them off and returned for us (an hour and a half later) As we sat huddled in the school room with a few candles for light I realized that I had to pee. The bathrooms in the camp are horrible, dirty, smelly port-a-potties that you can smell all over the camp when the wind is blowing in the right direction. Since there was no way I was going into one of those I had not used the bathroom all day. It couldn't be helped though, there was no way I could wait any longer. One of the other girls had to go to so we decided to wait until it was clear and just go on the other side of the building. By this time, all the residents were in their tents, it was pitch black and pouring rain so the side of the school house seemed like as good a place as any. It was a bonding experience for Jenn and I and I may now add an IDP camp to the list of odd places I've peed. Who needs actual bathrooms?
By the time our ride finally came back for us it was after 9pm I was more than ready to go home. The day would not have been complete without that ride home being what it was. As we left the camp our van slid and fishtailed all over the muddy slippery road in the rain and during the two hour drive home I dozed in and out as we were met by more pouring rain and huge amounts of thick gray fog. I finally reached my apartment after 11, happy, but thoroughly exhausted, dirty and wet. I took a quick shower and fell into bed. I slept soundly that night content with the day and the things we had accomplished and once again amazed, humbled, and thankful to be here and taking part in the the things I have done, the people that I have met and the adventures that have met me.

NEVER BEEN GOOD AT BYES

27 October 2009

One of the hard things about being a volunteer in Kenya for so long is that most people are not crazy and only volunteer for a couple of weeks or a month or two instead of half a year. This means that the people that you start volunteering with, and become friends with, share stories and struggles and chai at Java House with come and go and you are left alone. Three such volunteers left today and I was very sad. Jenn started with me and has been here with VICDA before (for six months) and so became a friend, but also a valuable source of information. Two of her friends, Tammi and Katie came out later but became just as important in our little volunteer circle. These girls were closer to my age than most of the others and a couple of them shared my faith so we connected on a deeper level than I had connected with any other person I had met thus far. We hung out on weekends and served together and talked about our homes, jobs and families. Now they are off, back to those homes, jobs and families and I'm still here for another four months and wondering what in the world was I thinking to stay for so long. They are the last to leave and in a way, I'm sort of glad because now there is no one else to say good-bye to.

THE TOY MARKET

24 october 2009

There was not a toy to be seen anywhere. This is mostly because its not the “toy” market, but the “toy-spelled-differently-in-a-way-that-I-cant-remember” market. It was like a swap meet on steroids. And kind of scary. A dark maze of small stands crammed together and full of goods. Jeans, tops, shoes. Brand names, second hand, and second quality clothing this is where the majority of Kenyans go to buy their clothes. Here you can purchase a pair of sweats and a belt (I've lost some weight and my clothes don't fit anymore) for less than $7. If you like to shop (which I don't) and are easily suckered into things (which I am) this is the place to go. I'm sure that I paid more than a Kenyan would have, but waaay less than I would have at home so I'm ok with it. This is most likely where I will go to purchase the Christmas gifts that I hope to be able to get for the children (would you like to help?) but I think next time I will take a national with me....and for the younger children I will find an actual “toy” market.

A DAY AT THE FOOTBALL PITCH

31 of October, 2009

Such a long and tiring, but fun day! Today was the end of the big tournament that the boys at Cheryl's have been a part of. Two teams made it to the semi-finals so I spent Friday afternoon purchasing juice boxes and oranges that I sliced and bagged for the boys (you know, soccer mom-in-training stuff). Friday evening brought a lot of rain and I was worried that the games would be canceled but the sun came with Saturday and the boys were excited and nervous about their games. Walking to the football pitch was slow going because of all the mud and me slipping and sliding all over the place. It is a pure miracle that I didn't fall on my butt numerous times. The games were exciting and nerve racking. The under 12s team was tied at the end of their first game and lost in overtime (wait, when time runs out and you have penalty kicks is that called overtime?) but the under 14s team won their first game (the same way the younger boys lost theirs) and moved on to the finals. After a short break we returned to the field to watch the final. While we waited for the game to start I made a new friend, Kennedy. He was one of the people putting on the tournament and knew where I was from based on my accent (I informed him that I don't have an accent but he insisted). The game started and I was sooo nervous! At one point, I was standing on the side lines and looked over to see a precious little girl, maybe three or four years old saunter over to where I was standing. She walked right up to me and grabbed my hand (see picture) and stood there with me for a while. It was so cute. The game ended 0-0 and we gathered around the goal post for the penalty kicks and I almost forgot to breathe I was so nervous for them. They did well, but it wasn't good enough and we lost 2-3. I was again blown away by these children. They don't blame anyone, or get upset or angry. Clearly, they were bummed that they lost, but they also recognized that they had done well, gone far, and given it their best. They drank their juice boxes and shook each others hands and were just happy to be together. They never fail to show me what love looks like and I am always humbled in their presence. After returning to the orphanage to talk to the girls and play with the little ones for a bit I returned home. Tired, but pleased with the day and happy to be where I am. Today, there was no other place that I would have rather been.

A WINK AND A SMILE

The walk to my volunteer site this morning was as typical as always-except I was a little late...well maybe that is pretty typical...
Anyway while walking down one stretch of road I came upon a little boy walking to school with his mother. He was maybe six or seven years old and adorable and looked very 'smart' in his uniform and cap. As we approached each other I smiled at him and without skipping a beat he winked at me! It was quiet possibly the cutest thing I've ever seen. There is NOTHING like starting off your day with a wink from a cute boy!

CHEGE

This is Benard Chege. He is 5 years old (we think) He's my little man. Whenever he sees me he gets this huge smile on his face that makes everything in my world ok and comes running at me with arms wide open. I have to kiss him and squeeze him and tickle him. I cant help it, I've tried to stop, but I just cant. His face was made for kissing. And his cheeks are perfect for squeezing and his tummy practically begs to be tickled. I dont know the woman that abandoned him two years ago. I dont know why she did it but when she did she let go of joy and light and precious giggles and everything that is good in this world. I feel sorry for her. She's lost so much. And I'm thankful for Cheryl's and the way that it cares for its children. Chege now has a chance at a happy, normal life. He can pursue his dreams. He is loved and wanted. I cant wait to see what he becomes.

THINGS I'VE LEARNED #6-10

#6 Digestive biscuits sound like food for old people, but really they are deliciousness for all ages.
#7 Given the choice between a hot dog and a mars bar at the movie theater, its always a good idea to
pick the mars bar.
#8 Somehow I bruise easier her than I did in the states....oh wait. No, thats just dirt.
#9 Sidewalks are for walking on AND driving on.
#10 When using a public toilet in Kenya always take TP with you and do not under any circumstances breath through your nose. I'm serious. Don't do it.

IDP's part I

2 of October, 2009
The end of 2007 brought with it the re-election of Kenya's president as well as a violence that killed thousands of people and displaced hundreds of thousands more. Homes and villages were burned to the ground as war broke out among the tribes pitting Kenyan against Kenyan. The result of this havoc are the Internationally Displaced Persons Camps. For the last two years over 600,000 men, women, and children have lived in these camps, forgotten by their government, and largely ignored by the global community. Once proud land owners, with homes and business have been reduced to scrapping out a living in Kenya's countryside living in tents provided by the UN refugee services that are now weather worn and falling apart. They are struggling to bring some semblance of normalcy to the lives of their family but without success as promise after promise from their government goes unfulfilled and unheeded.
I had the opportunity of visiting two such camps earlier this month. The two were very different. Mburuku is a small camp of 240 families- approx 1000 people that is in somewhat of a wasteland. It is a place covered in dirt where very little vegetation exists. It is largely untouched by rain, as most of Kenya now is and the winds that sweep across it are harsh making it next to impossible to stand outside let alone play or visit. For this reason, most of the adults stay in their tents. In fact, it seemed to be a community of only children as their parents sought the shelters of their "homes". There is a distinct air of despair through much of the camp, there is literally nothing to do. Men sit outside a tent and do not move all day, unable to work and provide for their families. Children run around bare foot and dusty (the "dust babies" we call them, and for obvious reason) uneducated but sweet in the innocence and naivety of their situation in life. These are the children that we spent the day with. Chasing, laughing, blowing bubbles, handing out stickers and cookies and musical instruments (that I'm sure their parents loved) singing songs and becoming just as dirty as them. The difference was, I would go home and take a hot shower (as long as there was electricity) whereas they would not wash because there was no water for it. I had a fantastic time playing with these fun loving children and am grateful for the opportunity to be able to spend a few hours with them.
The second camp was quite different and miles ahead in progress. Pipeline has a medical clinic, albeit poorly stocked, water tanks, toilets and 5 times as many people. Its amazing what a simple thing like water, something that we take so for granted, can do for a community. The air in Pipline just felt different. There was so much more hope. We didnt stay long as we had a long drive home ahead of us, but were treated to a tour of the camp which is considerably larger and more advanced than mburuku. The people there have all been allotted a plot of land and where theri tents currently are GVN (the organization that i came out with) is providing the materials to build each family a house of stone. The government has promised to provide beams and tin for the roof of each house--so far all of them are roofless. It was good to see that there can be hope in the IDP camps, and that with some help and a lot of hard work the children of Mburuku can have a better life, and return somewhat to normal. I am looking forward to getting to spend more time with them in the future.

Little Boys and Puppy Dog Tales

Their lives are simple, and I'm learning that making them 'better' doesn't necessarily mean giving them more stuff. It is doing my best to make sure that they have everything they need, are given the opportunity to pursue their dreams and simply believing in them. There is a boy in my class, Steven, who is not the easiest child. He has a lot of anger and likes to hit the girls, a behavior that very well may be modeled for him at home. Its frustrating sometimes. It seems like no amount of “we dont hit” really phases him. Today before lunch one of the puppies kept finding his way into our classroom, and I kept picking him up and taking him out again. But he just kept coming back, and he always found his way to Steven. “Teacher” (sounds like teacha) he addressed me, “he keeps coming back!”
“It is because he loves you” I told him. The look he gave me was one of great surprise. “He keeps coming in because he wants to be near you, he loves you.” The smile that broke out on that boys face was dazzling. “yes, he loves me.” He replied thoughtfully, and then “I will take him back out” And this boy, who is sometimes so violent, gingerly scooped up that little puppy and with great care and gentleness carried him outside to the dog house. As we went outside later Steven walked out of the classroom with me, holding my hand. He has never touched me before, or sat next to me, or even really payed much attention to me. And this afternoon, after lunch, I did not tell him “we don't hit” even once.

Kelvin's Story

6 of October, 2009

as written by him

“For the teacher Dre”

“Story at English 6/10/2009 Kelvin Mugai”

“Once upon a time There was a very clever little girl. Her mother always told her never to follow strangers, because some of Them Were very bad ogres Everybody konws That ogres like to children For supper!

Mrs ogre Lived near a village she was a bad ogre Every day she went out to look for littlr children to eat But The children were very clever When They saw Mrs Ogre They ran home quickly Mrs oger got very hungry and she got very thin.”

“That is The story Plz don't For Got The story, Good buy Kelvin

THINGS I'VE LEARNED #1-5

#1. Showering in the morning is pretty much useless. Mostly because as soon as you leave the house
you will be dripping in sweat and covered in dust. Really, showering at all at anytime is pretty
useless. So why bother?
#2. If you aren't sure what to pay for something and think you are getting riped off. You are. Even if
you don't think you are, you still are.
#3. African TV is the most amazing thing in the world.
#4. Too much eye contact isn't really always a good idea
#5. Bus schedules, fares and routes are pretty much non-existent. Even if its the same bus number
you've been on before there is no guarantee. Its a good idea to ask if the bus you are getting on will
be stopping at your stop. Even then, good luck.

EDUCATION IN KENYA

Kenya is comprised of two schools. Primary School is 1st through 8th grade or standard 1-8. High School or Secondary School is Form 1-Form 4. All children are required to go to school but between school fees, uniform costs and supplies it is often too expensive for many families. For this reason you will often find that the students in one class are a wide range of ages. You are not automatically in class one because you are six years old, you start whenever you can afford to start going and you continue from there. One of the volunteers has a 26 year old in her class one and the oldest primary student in the world recently passed away at over 80 yrs old! Many of the schools are overcrowded with over 90 students in a class and not nearly enough books to teach them all. One text book is usually shared between four or five students and their work is copied off of the blackboard into little notebooks or exercise books. One book per subject. Something that I've noticed with this this week is that test taking is difficult. Because copy machines are not available a teacher will have one copy of a test which she will write on the blackboard. Each student will then copy the problems into their notebook, many will copy them wrong or skip questions resulting in lower test scores. Their desks are small and shared between at least four students. Their pencils are mostly nubs with the occasional nub being passed from child to child when someone doesn't have one of their own. Pencil sharpeners and erasers are in even shorter supply and often times will be shared between classrooms.
Students are not the only ones with a supply shortage. Chalk is rare and erasers are even more so. My class is using an old stuffed animal as a blackboard eraser! Teaching tools do not exist in most classrooms and teachers do their best using their blackboard. Despite these difficulties many students seem to thrive. They are eager to learn and are rapt and attentive students. They study hard because many of them know that a good education is the only way to break the cycle of poverty that they live in. Unfortunately most of them will not make it to high school as high school fees can be a small fortune to the average family in the slum and the children will need to begin work in order to help support their families.
Cheryl's is a beacon of light in this otherwise dark situation. Although it is a private school it does not charge its families a fee making a solid education available to the children in the surrounding slums. Parents pay whatever they can which sometimes is barely enough to cover the chalk used in the classrooms. Another way that Cheryl's helps is with their meal program. Every student gets a cup of porridge in the morning and lunch in the afternoon. For some, it will be the only meal that they have for the day. For the children that live there, it is a guarantee that they will be cared for and have an opportunity to go to secondary school and to university beyond. It is a place where their dreams are cultivated and encouraged to grow. Where they are provided for without having to worry about where it will come from. This is done mostly through private donations and sponsorships of individual students.
Cheryl's is not a rich school. On the contrary, it too struggles to provide the necessary supplies and meals for its students. What perhaps makes it different is that its director and staff place the school and students and orphans in the hands of God. Trusting Him for His provision of every need. That is why, I believe, Cheryl's thrives and continues to grow.

A BEAUTIFUL DAY IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD

The place that I live 9 September, 2009

Now that the weather has cleared a bit and the sun has come out again (its only about 8,000 degrees now) my neighborhood has come alive. The walk to work is so full of people and noise and interesting things to look at and....smell.
Upon leaving the gate of my building I am greeted by a dirt and rock road that is incredibly bumpy and difficult to walk on. Its actually a pretty good workout. On both sides of the street there is a flurry of activity everyday. Jamhuri (Jam-hurry) Estate is growing and there is constant building going on. Only, the building sites are like no others I have ever seen. Safety regulations don't mean much and I often find myself crossing to the other side of the road because I am sure that someday a piece of rock or steel rod is sure to fall and hit whatever unlucky person happens to be walking below. There is also a car wash on my street. Which is actually just a small driveway with the words “CAR WASH” written in chalk on the stone wall above. Both sides of the street are full of little kiosks and even a “7-11” that sell pretty much anything you could want from a cold soda to chickens to new curtains for your house. And every one of them comes special with a couple of men sitting outside of it talking. Or women in head wraps doing their washing. There is a drought in Kenya right now and I'm not sure where it all comes from but there seems to be no end of mud puddles and little streams of water to walk across and jump over. Once the dirt road ends and the paved road begins there is some open space with grass and more apartment buildings on either side as well as a small community of little shops that lead down the road to Kibera which is only about a quarter of a mile away from me. Further down the road on one side is an outdoor 'nursery'. Which is just basically rows and rows of plants on the side of the road. They are all over Nairobi. Its kind of crazy actually. It takes me approx 15-20 min to walk down my road to the end where it meets Ngong (Gong) road which is the main street in Nairobi. There I can continue to walk down dusty paths another 15 min to work dodging Matatus that don't feel the need to wait for traffic on the street and so drive on the 'sidewalk' of dirt paths, passing road construction, taxi drivers who like to yell at me, dirty ragged children who ask for food and my lunch money (which I usually give them cause its too hard to say no) other pedestrians on their way to work or school (all of whom stare and shout at me) and all manner of crazy traffic accidents. Or, I can hop in a Matatu and ride the final few min to work. Believe it or not, I would rather walk than spend anymore time than necessary in a Matatu (think New York taxis but 100 times scarier). I love my neighborhood. I love the women that sit on the side of the road talking all morning. And in the afternoons the streets are full of children running and screaming and playing. There are women and young girls doing the washing and moms playing with their babies. Its a great little neighborhood, safe and full of life. I'm very lucky to have been placed here and I think that the next six months will be pleasant living here as I get to know my neighbors and street vendors. I think Mr. Rogers would like it here too......

PRAYER REQUESTS:
*part of the reason I wanted to stay for so long was because I really wanted to get to know Kenya and immerse myself in the culture. Please pray for the boldness to do this. To not merely walk by the same people everyday, but to stop and say hello, get to know them and their families and their lives. And for my continued safety as I navigate the streets of Jamhuri and Dahgoretti.
*Pray for Kenya: We are experiencing a severe drought and people and livestock are dying. The news tonight showed women fighting and yelling at each other in order to get a little bit of water that is dirty and mucky and probably full of disease. El Nino is supposed to happen this year and although we are in desperate need of the rain, most of the rural villages and IDP camps are not prepared for that much rain and are in danger of flooding.

THIS IS HOW YOU DO CHURCH

This is how you do Church
Service at Cheryl's Children's Home 6 of September, 2009
Central City Community Church on skid row has nothing on these kids. Worshiping with them was amazing, it was a great way to spend my first Sunday Kenya.
The service was run by the older students who played the drums and the keyboard while two others lead the singing. They danced around and clapped their hands and had so much fun. The service was full of Joy and laughter and music. It was “church” in its purest form, lead by children. At one point someone asked for testimonies of God's goodness and EVERY SINGLE ONE of those kids in turn stood up and said “praise the Lord” to which everyone else replied “Amen” which prompted a “praise the Lord again” from whomever was speaking and another “amen” from everyone else. They then spoke of God's goodness and their thankfulness to him. Some of them read a verse or two and a couple even gave little mini sermons! It was so incredible. I am always struck by how real and big and good God is to the teachers and students here. It is encouraging but also convicting. There is something that the people here have that we sometimes forget we have back in the states. And that is a need for God in our lives. Everyday. And a reliance on Him that we sometimes loose because we have so much. I have a feeling that this is only the first of many lessons that I will learn from these incredible children and am so blessed to be able to be here....
KENYAN TIDBITS:
*A commercial heard on the radio in Nairobi: “when you have to go to the bathroom, you just have to go. But when you need the news, we bring it to you.”
*Storm over paradise update: (dont act like you dont want it)Nicolas is out of the hospital, but Imar is still in prison and her trial is not going well. Karina Rosinberg who paid someone to kidnap her kid and then framed Imar has cancer and is in the hospital still plotting everyones death that gets in her way (no one knows that shes sick by the way). The real Karina Rosinberg is hiding out somewhere biding her time until she reveals who she is. They call her the little mermaid and she always the dumbest look on her face. She bugs me. The fake Karina still loves David, her husbands brother and he is pretending to love her in order to expose her evilness. This of course, is causing some problems with his girlfriend. David and Nicolas' dad is responsible for the death of Imar's father (we just found out tonight) and Jose Miguel is still in love with Imar and trying to be her hero even though she keeps telling him that she can only be his friend cause her heart belongs to Nicolas... poor Jose Miguel. He's not even that good looking and has a weird relationship with his mom.

Kibera

Africa's Largest Slum- 5 of September, 2009

There is something about playing a hand clapping game with a child who is covered in dirt. Who has a runny nose, snot all over his torn and tattered t-shirt that is too big for him and god only knows what all over his feet because his shoes are not nearly adequate in protecting them from the filth that has settled on the ground that he calls home. There is a tragedy about the smile on his face. Especially the way he giggles when the "muzungu" cant seem to get the game right and clap her hands in the right order. It is heart breaking, but somehow, beautiful. It is because he does not know that it could be better. But you do. He doesn't know what its like to try on a brand new shirt, bought just for you, that is clean and fits perfectly. He is unaware that there are streets that are not littered with "flying toilets" (human waste put in a small plastic bag and thrown out the windows) providing a walk way that is clean and clear and safe for his little feet to walk uncovered on. But you do. He should know what a just warm enough bubble bath feels like and the way clean and cut fingernails shine. He should know a father that loves him, that comes home from work everyday, puts him on his lap and reads him a story. That provides a comfortable home to live in and enough food to fill the needs of his growing body. Instead, if he knows his father at all, it is as a man who drinks all day, beats him and his mother, spends the little money that he has on gambling and beer instead of on food. He knows no better. But you do. There is no love, or comfort or safety. It is all he knows, and so he smiles and giggles because he is a child. But you know better. And all there is to do is smile, and try to get the clapping patterns right.

Kibera (key-bear-uh) is the largest slum in Africa, second largest in the world. It spans about a mile and a half and is home to over 800,000 people. This number is expected to more than double in the next 10 years. It is a labyrinth of dirt, mud huts, half naked children, drunk men, with little sunlight and even less clean water. The smell is staggering and it's difficult to look around you because you have to pay such close attention to where you are walking and what you may be stepping in. There is little education as most of the families that live in the slum are unable to pay the fees to send their children to school-a guarantee that this cycle of poverty will never end. Because without money, there is no education, and without an education, these children have no hope of ever leaving. This creates families that have lived here for generations and are proud of their slum heritage. They do not fight to get their children or themselves out. They simply accept it and take a pride in it that is hard to understand. How do you help a people that don't seem to want to be helped? How do you expect better for people that don't expect it for themselves? It is maddening. To know that it doesn't have to be this way. And yet it is.

UMMM, I CAN SEE MY BREATH. IS THAT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN?

first day of walking to work 3, sept. 2009

NOTES ON TRAVELING TO AFRICA:
Leave the Jack's at home.
Jack Percells (a type of converse tennis shoe) although loved, and comfortable and have pulled you through the last 17 years, are completely inadequate foot wear for Africa when it rains (especially if they are 8 yrs old and have holes in them. It is best to be sure to pack sturdy boots. If, due to increasing airline fees for overweight baggage you are unable to be sure to visit the local Nakumatt upon arrival and purchase a pair for a mere 400ksh (approx $6). Please also note that OP rain “jackets” purchased at the Goodwill outlet for $1.00 are also not going to do you any good.
For those of us who think we know that September is a hot month in Africa (like all the other months) please be advised that Africa is also subject to “unusual for this time of year” weather and phenomenons such as el nino.
Not kidding. I saw my breath this morning.

LIONS AND CHEETAHS AND MONKEYS, OH MY!

Nairobi Animal Orphanage. 2 Sept, 2009
For day two of our training we were taken to the Animal Orphanage where animals who are hurt or abandoned are brought to be cared for and then released back into the wild. It was basically a small zoo, but afforded some new and really fun experinces. I got to hold a baby cheetah, and feed a monkey out of my hand. The whole thing got me really amped for the Safari that I am going to be going on in a couple of weeks!

Arrival in Kenya

Hello Friends!
just a quick note to let you know that i have arrived safely in Kenya. My flights were long but smooth, my ride remembered me at the airport and the home that i am stayin in is wonderful.
I have running hot water (most of the time) and electricty (everyother day) so things are good!
I live with Alice who is a nurse and gone most of the day and her sister Margaret who just graduated university. they are both quiet and sweet and giggle a lot. During training my roommates are Fernanda who just graduated from high school,is from Mexico City and a constant source of entertainment and Nicole who is a lawyer in L.A. Both girls will be transfered to other sites once training is over and I will get a new roommate. Right now all i know about her is that her name is Sasha and she will be here working in the same orphanage as me for three months. I am thankful to have someone to walk to work with everyday!
Orientation has been busy and full of information. There are about 20 other volunteers starting with me, and I think that after the first day I have made a couple of friends......

KENYAN TID-BITS
* Africa has its own version of American Idol/Big brother mix. its called Tuskers project fame. Tuskers is a brand of beer by the way.
* My new favorite show is a spanish soap opera with english dubs called storm in paradise. Currently, Ima has been arrested for the kidnapping of Nicolas' child. Nicolas is in a coma and I'm pretty sure that its his wife who staged the kidnapping.

Prayer Requests:
*I'm a little bit nervous about the transportation situation, not so much using it as getting lost on it. Please pray that my horrible sense of direction takes a break these next few months and is replaced by a mapquest inside my head.
* The orphanage that I will be at has over 200 children (60 full time), I want to be comfortable enough with them and with my gifts to initiate activities, and outings. Pray for an open mind to the way things are run and the funds that will allow me to bring new things to the program and its charges.

Thats all for now! Please shoot me an email or a facebook message or something and let me know whats going on!

Hot wings, Hot showers, and Hot irons

Three things that I did last night that I probably wont do again for six months. weird.
I'm leaving for the airport in about 30 min and all I can think about is the fact that I'm tired. The enormity of what I am doing hit me pretty hard on Wed and I came this close to a nervous breakdown. But now I feel fine. As though the trip to LAX that I am about to take is just like any other trip to LAX I've ever taken before. I'm not really sure what to think about it all. I didn't sleep well last night. Maybe due to the hot wings?
Ok, I'm going to admit out loud what you are probably already thinking. I'm not very good at this whole blog thing. My thoughts are too reckless to be of any use or sense to anyone at the moment. So I'll leave it at this. Please pray for me. I have a long trip ahead of me (about 24 hours). Thankfully I have a charged ipod, a good book and some drugs to help me get through it. Please pray for my roommates that I will be staying with in Kenya and for a bond. Please pray for someone to work with that loves Jesus. Someone that I can be a support and encouragement to as well as be supported and encouraged.
And please keep in touch, either through this crazy blog thing or facebook (facebook.com/dre.marinez) or through email (livea.revolution@yahoo.com).
Thanks for your prayers, and for listening.
Here I go......

So, now i'm a blogger

and I'm still not even really sure what that means. I do know, however, that when you are crazy enough to choose to leave your home, job, family and friends to live in a third world country said home, job, family and friends want to hear all about it. Be apart of the experience of living in a slum without actually, you know, living in a slum. And so I will do my best to bring you into this crazy and amazing adventure that God has called me into. Internet connection may be sketchy at best so I cant promise any regularity, but I will be as consistent as I can. I welcome your comments, stories from home, emails and facebook messages as well because as important as it is for you to be connected to me in Kenya, it is also important for me to be connected to you here at home.
So there it is. I'm a blogger. Perhaps in the midst of this insane-ness, I'll actually figure out exactly what that means.