Day 7: The Ngong Hills

As our driver, George, told us, the Maasai legend is that the Ngong Hills are the knuckles of a giant who tripped and was eaten alive by termites who left his knuckles behind. I hope George corrects me if that's incorrect, but that's what I remember hearing. After hearing that Ngong is the Maasai work for knuckles you can never look at them without thinking that they are in fact giant knuckles.

The trip started with a long drive to hills and a lot of money being paid to hike them. Because you can't just hike the Ngong Hills, you have to hire 2 guards to hike with you because there are a lot of violent and non-violent crimes committed about 3 hills in against hikers. The first 2-3 hills are just fine, but it's a good precautionary measure to take.

We drove up most of the first hill and words cannot explain how terrified I was; it felt like we were driving up the steep hills of San Francisco if they were taller, unpaved, and filled with goats and cows.

The hike was quite enjoyable and we all got to spend some great quality time together. The armed guards had M-16s but were quite friendly; some would say overly friendly. I'm pretty sure one of them asked out one of my fellow students.

The drive back down was as scary as the drive up. And we were stopped by fornicating goats in the middle of the road. When I told our other driver Joshua about the goats he said that they must've been in college.

Day 7: BABY ELEPHANTS!

The sky was overcast but the weather was much too hot for the long sleeve black knit dress I had worn to the David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust in Nairobi's National Park. We waited in line to get in, and then waited around a roped fence for a parade of baby elephants to come greet us. They did not disappoint. They came out in a line just like in the Jungle Book. They could not have been cuter.

 

I can't even figure out what makes elephants look so cool/cute! They have giant ears and crazy nose-arms, both of those things would make me feel super self-conscious.

Awww, look at those tusks!

So all of the elephants here were orphaned either by natural causes (their mothers getting killed by lions) or man-made causes (their mothers getting killed by ivory poachers). The fathers don't matter in the life of an infant elephant, after breeding they leave their herd to join a bachelor herd.

This little one was the youngest and very sick :( The elephants were fed gallons a day of baby formula since they don't have mothers to nurse from.

 

 After our adorable encounter with one of nature's cutest creatures we headed back to St. Bakhita's guest hostel to get ready to go hiking in the Ngong Hills.

Day 6: IDP Camp

Today we took a trip to a newly established village outside of Mai Mahiu near Naivasha. On the way to the village we passed the through the Rift Valley.
 

 We also passed up the smallest Catholic Church in Kenya. Interesting fact: it was built by Italian POWs who were captured by British soldiers and forced to build roads. They built this church voluntarily so that they would have a place to worship during their imprisonment.

This village is the expansion of the Internally Displaced Persons camp that was started five years ago after the post-election violence of 2007/2008. For those of you who are unaware, the post-election violence was allegedly incited by candidates who had lost the presidential election and much of it was tribally oriented by Kalenjin and Luo (the second and third largest ethnic groups in Kenya) against Kikuyus (who are the majority ethnic population and dominate politics). These candidates are running again and are currently being tried by the ICC for human rights violations.

The people in the village fled from their middle and upper class homes in Eldoret to make a new life five hours away in rural Kenya. Once we got there we were greeted by nearly the entire village and all the children were playing in the grass. They toured us around their land that consisted of an assemblage of tents that were used as makeshift homes and newly built concrete structures that were to become the permanent houses of the population. It was really sad to see how poor their soil was for farming, so much of it was eroded.

After the tour we were each coupled up and chosen by certain residents to eat lunch with them in their new homes. My friend Connie and I were partnered up and chosen with a big giant hug and smile by a wonderful woman named Jane.

We ate a lunch of rice and beans with potatoes and had some tea with particularly fresh milk after. The eating customs in Kenya was somewhat difficult to adjust to. It is important, when eating with strangers to eat EVERYTHING they give you, otherwise it could be considered rude. I was handed a large bowl filled to the top with the aforementioned food that was refilled before I could even finish the first one. And so I couldn't finish it all, but luckily Jane understood that I was full and just couldn't fit anymore food into my stomach. It is also unusual to converse while eating so sometimes I was thinking that there were awkward silences.

Looking around I saw the walls were covered in old and new calendars and lace curtains. There was a curtain in the doorway between the family room and the kitchen and wooden doors to each bedroom. Jane has 6 children, 3 boys and 3 girls, her youngest son James the only one that lives with her. Mary, a 15 year old girl from the village joined us for lunch as well. At the end of our meal, Mary was kind enough to sing us a worship song in English that she knew and Jane sang a Kikuyu worship song while playing her drum with James helping now and then with the vocals.

After our lunch we made our way back to where we had all originally congregated when we arrived. We all made small talk while purchasing bags and baskets that the women had learned to weave in the five years they had been living there. Some of the other students played with the group of kids that followed us out again. When it was time to say goodbye, the whole group sang a song for our departure that included each of our names and a lot of clapping. I had no idea songs for greeting and salutations were so popular in Kenya, it makes the idea of hanging out with strangers so much more appealing.

 

Day Five: Green Belt Movement, Living Positive, and Small Christian Communities

Today we visited 3 places!
For my environmentalist friends, you'll be happy to know that the first was the headquarters of The Green Belt Movement . 

We met with an employee who used to work directly with the Green Belt Movement's founder Wangari Maathai . He said that she has been known as one of the most powerful women in Kenya for having stood up to Kenyan politicians and officials in defending certain pieces of land.  This woman has changed the ecology of Kenya and saved so much of it's forest land it's unbelievable.  In addition to this feat, the organization tackles the issue of poverty, specifically with women.  To celebrate the Nobel Peace Prize that she was awarded, she planted  this tree:

And this is a chameleon that was hangin out.

After leaving The Green Belt Movement we made moves to Living Positive Kenya , an organization that provides group support and skills training for women who are HIV+. I could only do so much not to purchase the beautiful jewelry and sewn goods they sold there. The walls inside are lined with posters from US AID about what to do if you have been raped. This may sound stupid, but I kind of wish there were signs that just told men not to rape in the first place. That aside, the women here were so beautiful.  They were absolutely inspiring in what I would describe as a positive attitude if it didn't incur the hint of a pun; I suppose I could say they're optimistic, confident, powerful, and upbeat women. We were greeted with hugs, kisses, and handshakes by each individual woman, and then they sang a song for us as we filed into one of the main rooms. They each told us their names and how many children they had and bits of their stories. We shared about ourselves, and then they toured us around the facility, the slum behind it, and back. We were shown the gift shop where I spent lots of money and then we headed out.  

From there we paid a visit to the Maryknoll priests of Kenya . This was boring to some of my colleagues but I was intrigued to hear about Small Christian Communities (or SCCs) from Fr. Joe Healy who has written extensively on the topic. I've been looking for more gender-equalizing and autonomous forms of worship and have had a hard time finding it in the Catholic Church (for obvious reasons that I don't feel I need to delve into here). But as Fr. Joe described the SCCs, I was happy to find out that they are the part of the Church that is doing exactly those things. I plan to stay in touch with him about them as there are only something like 1500 in the US and 35,000 in Kenya (or maybe Eastern Africa in general, I'll have to double check my facts on that).

And with that long post, I shall head to bed.  

Day Four: CUEA and Mathare

Today we were privileged to meet some CUEA students that were taking a leadership course. The majority of the students were nuns and there were a few priests. We discussed our cultures and the topic of marriage came up. When one of the sisters asked about the dowry we said we didn't have one. She said, 'you just let yourself go free of charge?' It was interesting to say the least. After this class session we made our way to Good Samaritan Children's home in one of Nairobi 's other slums called Mathara.

Good Samaritan was probably the most difficult sight for me to see. It was so clearly one of those cliche depressing orphanages. Hundreds of children and youth with just a few bedrooms. Children all vying for your attention. We brought them some cookies as a treat and I noticed multiple children pocket their cookies for later and put their hands back out like they didn't get any. Several of the children,  but one in particular, would run up for hugs or ask to be picked up or would just make themselves comfortable in someone's lap. This kind of indiscriminate emotional attachment that makes visitors feel so welcome in an orphanage is discussed in a book I got from my dad for Christmas. The author, Dr. Samantha Nutt, writes that this type of behavior is symptomatic of the failing institution of voluntourism but I can see it in the failed institution of orphanages, on which she also writes. With this information floating through my head I almost couldn't stay any longer. We were introduced to an infant, Daniel, just a few weeks old, who had just been dropped off at the door of the children's home that morning. At that point I could not hold back my tears and cried silently against the wall. That infant no longer had parents. The possibilities of his orphanization scrambled my mind. What happened to his parents? Was he really orphaned or was his mother in such desperate poverty that she turned him over to the orphanage with the knowledge that he would get at least get a meal a day that she knew she couldn't provide for him. Why was this his only alternative? If orphanages are known to be such failures why do we continue to support them? Why isn't there a better organization that can help him? Is a better-than-nothing orphanage his only option?

After touring Good Samaritan we took a walk through the slum. The heat pounded on my skin as little kids ran by us singing,  "howayu?! Howayu?!" Like kibera, the streets were full of waste and filth. A small boy tried to steal one of my rings and was later chastised by an older man. Another man begged for money and followed us through the slum back to the orphanage where we were to say our goodbyes.

I made my way into the van with a heavy heart, a sniffly nose, teary eyes, and a headache. I sat down and immediately put my headphones in for the journey home to CUEA. I slept until our reflection time and skipped dinner. Even though I went to Kibera yesterday, my mind's eye was more fully open to the conditions I saw in Mathara at the children's home.

I wish I had an alternative to the orphanage to offer the children there,  but I wouldn't even know where to begin.

Kwa Heri, Kenya

Goodbye, Kenya.

There are things I wont miss about you, namely the Nakumatt, the lack of soap, toilet paper, and seats in the bathrooms, and of course the bird outside my window at Lake Nakuru Lodge.

There are more things i will miss though. Enough things to make me want to stay longer and not go home. Nairobi, you have become a shoulder for me to cry upon and a friend to laugh with. To keep it simple, here is a list of what I will miss the most (in no particular order) about Nairobi.

Sincere and welcoming greetings, meetings, hugs, and kisses.

My friends: the sisters at St Bakhita hostel at CUEA and my boys in the kitchen.

Safaris and wildlife. I'm coming back for you, leopard.

The green national parks and the brown dirt roads.

The drivers at Lindberg.

The baboons on the side of the road.

Humphrey/Reggae Night

The chapati and chicken katakata.

The youth at Foundations of Hope in Kibera and the women of Living Positive, Amani Ya Juu, and Upendo Village.

Random Bible verses painted on the sides of matatus.

Being called mzungus.

Hearing children sing 'Howayu?! Howayu?!' upon seeing mzungus.

The Swahili songs.

Sawa Sawa.

The Ngong Hills and the great Rift Valley.

The community we built as a class.

So Kwa Heri, Kenya. Tutaunana tena.

Nairobi Day three part two: Nyumbani

After some heavy hours spent in Kibera we made our way to Nybani Children's Home. Nyumbani means 'Home' in Kiswahili and Children's Home is a fancy way of saying orphanage. These children are HIV/AIDS orphans and many of them are positive themselves. Now sorry if I offend, but I have some opinions on this.

I had a kind of difficult time reconciling the idea that HIV/AIDS affected children were being institutionalized and by the Catholic Church no less and the fact that maybe in the socio-cultural context of Nairobi this was a good thing because it's better than allowing the children to live on the street where they may fall prey to just about anyone that would think to abuse and exploit them.

Their rooms were small and they all shared what little space they had. There was a playground and mosaics.

When we arrived the children were practicing a song and dance performance piece which I taped a bit of.

We then were led to a grave site on campus that broke everyone's hearts. There were small scattered crosses and gravestones with names of children and infants who had died of AIDS. They stopped around the year 2000 when they started receiving anti-retroviral medications. All of the medications they receive at their state-of-the-art clinic are provided free of charge by PEPFAR. The next time PEPFAR comes up in the budget debate to be cut I'd like to see the politicians who oppose it travel to Nairobi and tell the kids at Nyumbani that they are the people that are trying to cut the funding that quite literally keeps them alive.

It is one thing to know about a government initiative and the money that it costs, but it is quite another thing to see the children who are healthy because of it.