Settling in at GIWA

It has not yet been two weeks since we arrived from Kawangware to GIWA, but already we are starting to feel at home. Margaret was so generous to make space for Grace and I in her mud home. Margaret is the single mother that I transported to the hospital the day I left Africa in January.

She was past her due date and her baby was not engaged in the pelvis at all and I was beginning to worry that her placenta could be low and be the cause. It is such an adjustment to assist women here where it is so rare to get an ultrasound in  pregnancy. So, that morning, we rose early and headed to Nakuru. I asked her to bring a friend because I would have to move on to Nairobi to catch my flight that same day. It was quite an adventure getting there because neither of us knew exactly where the government hospital was located. We took the motorbikes to the highway (yes, an overdue pregnant mama on the back of a motorbike) then the matatu to Nakuru, then boarded another matatu that told us it was headed in the direction of the hospital. I will never forget my frustration when we realized that the matatu was not heading in the right direction. January is very hot here and I couldn’t believe the driver had taken advantage of our lack of knowledge. We lost precious time and money, plus had to walk in the heat. Unfortunately, you come to learn that it is common here for people to take advantage of others to gain profit. Luckily, just when I am at my wit’s end with this practice, someone who is generous and kind will come along.

We did make it to the hospital that day and I guess the car ride jiggled the baby into position. So, with the baby now engaged, there was no ultrasound ordered and Margaret was instructed to return when she was in labor. I have since found that it seems to be common for babies not to engage until even labor here, maybe it has something to do with all the lifting and physical labor they continue with until delivery. I treated them to a special lunch and then left her with enough money to cover the cost of a vaginal delivery in the hospital ($30). We both cried and I promised her that I would be back.

There is one thing for sure about Kenyan culture. They very much expect you to make good on your promises, they will not forget. Margaret had been waiting for me since July. I was not able to afford for Grace and I to stay in the volunteer house through the organization, so it was a great relief to know that we had a place to stay since I desperately wanted to return to the people of GIWA.

Our stay at Margaret’s actually ended up being very brief. The volunteer house completely burned just weeks before our arrival along with everything in it, including the boxes of medical supplies that I left.  I decided that the best use of our money for accommodation would be to reconstruct part of the volunteer house. This would also provide us with security since the “Corporal” would share the house, plus privacy which was becoming a necessity for me. The volunteer house it located away from the main camps and between the two. It was humbling and gracious to be housed within the community, fed and fussed over. But on the other hand, Grace and I did not have a minute to ourselves and found there were constantly a group of woman and children asking for things, trying to talk to us in Swahili or just watching our every move.

 

 

 

The work was completed quickly thanks to David, the contractor who I worked with at FreMo. We made the least burned side of the house livable in just two and one-half days. The small 8×10 room that used to function as the volunteer kitchen and then housed the Corporal and family after the fire is to become my small clinic. I have had a bed made and am stocking it with medicines. Already people are coming by like the 9 month old with severe burns on the arm of which I am changing his dressings often. This week we will begin the prenatal and first aid clinic on Wednesdays and Fridays.

We will only plan to travel to town once a week for supplies. Unless something comes up. Like today. We are in Nakuru to meet a father who approached me about helping with his wife’s hospital bill. She started labor at the small local hospital in Rongai, where most women of GIWA go to deliver. That hospital is a one hour walk or you must hire a motor bike and they do not have facilities for surgery. I do not yet know the full story, but apparently this mother had to transfer for cesarean for her third delivery on August 9. Fortunately, she and the baby are well but they have not been allowed to leave the hospital until they can pay their bill. This is common practice. Sometimes, a woman is not given care at all unless they put down a deposit. So, she and the baby have been waiting in a ward until the family can raise the balance of equal to $150. That is a very large amount of money for them. I told them I would pay half of the bill if they could raise the other half and they have done so. Today Grace and I will meet them at the hospital and witness her release and happy reunion.

That is the type of thing that the donations are going towards. I am not paying children’s school fees or buying uniforms or any of the other many needs of the community. I am only spending the money on medical needs. Here is a general breakdown so far.

• Supplies and extra baggage cost from home $400
• Construction  and supplies of second birth room at FreMo $800
• Cash donation to VICDA for ground breaking of hospital at GIWA $225
• Re-construction of Volunteer house and clinic room $1000
• Medicines and supplies $150
• Hospital bill for Virginia (above) $75

Total donated  $4000. Total spent  $2650. I have spent my own funds on our tickets, shots, accommodations, food and personal supplies totaling around $4800. I will continue to keep track and continue to ask for your support. I have many ideas that I hope to implement such as holding community health classes and community income projects for the HIV+ and single mothers of GIWA. Plus I will be traveling once a month to other IDP camps in the area for mobile clinic days.

Thank you again for being a part of this mission. Rest assured that your money is doing very good work for the people here in Kenya. Please spread the word and keep your thoughts, prayers and financial support coming. Thank you!

Arriving in the Rift Valley

After a few days in Nairobi, I was excited to be on my way to the IDP camps in the Rift Valley.  My excitement grew as the busy streets morphed into hillsides with meandering trails and loaded-down pack mules. Even as we got further into the countryside, there were people walking everywhere. I am not used to that. In the U.S. it would be odd to be driving through the country and see people walking along the road, down trails and over hills.

Women carried heavy loads and infants on their backs. Men whizzed by on motorbikes and repaired large trucks on the side of the road. Small children walked alone or sat under a tree watching over their small herd of cows or sheep.  Groups of colorful roadside stands offered  visual delights. Men and women worked the fields together with pick and hoe. I saw none of the big machines and industrialized farming I am so used to seeing in the rural land I am from. It seemed a totally different world.

Our first stop was at a hardware shop in Nakuru where Irene was checking on an order of supplies for the beginnings of the medical clinic at Giwa. We waited in the van for what seemed like quite awhile and Jenn assured me that this was typical of Kenyan business. “This is Kenyan time”, she would say. I had to contain my anticipation and my desire to get to work. Little did I know of how much work would be waiting for me.

When Irene returned to the car, she squealed with excitement as she had managed to raise funds in the store for school fees for a few children that needed sponsors. I realized quickly that she is always working to help the people of Kenya. With two cell phones in hand, she is a tireless servant and amazing multi-tasker.

The first IDP camp we visited was Pipeline. This community is still almost all tents. Tents supplied by UNICEF and the Red Cross more than three years ago, when these people lost everything they had. The tents have housed the IDPs for more than three years and many are barely standing after all of the scorching sun and Kenyan rains. Later an older man showed me pictures he managed to grab before fleeing his home in the post-election violence. You could feel his sense of pride in his former homestead and overwhelm in trying to rebuild from nothing.  

Despite these circumstances, you could see resilience and hope in this new budding community. Jenn filled me in on some politics of the camps and the importance of having a good leader or “chairman”. Pipeline’s chairman was named Moses and his eyes and smile lit up with warmth and wisdom. Through donations, Pipeline had a new small clinic almost complete, a thriving community chicken project and the beginning of a school/community house. There were still no supplies and no healthcare provider, so I told Moses that he could let the women in the camp know that I would be back later in the week to check on anyone pregnant or nursing.

By the time I returned to Pipeline, I had already provided care at the other camps and was getting more of an idea of what to expect. I had become accustomed to working out of my backpack on the dirt, so it felt  luxurious to have a small concrete room where I could close the door for privacy, a small exam table to lay the women down and a place to set my equipment out. The women and babies formed a line out the door, waiting patiently in the heat. I knew by now how to identify the ones that I was likely to help the most, so I moved quickly and jotted one line notes to remind me which ones to buy medicine for. I didn’t get a chance to go back to Pipeline before I left but managed to get the medicines delivered to those I had promised. I often wonder how they are doing..

Who are IDPs?

I picked up a few reading materials before and during my trip. Most of them, I left behind with friends in Kenya. Without means for school fees, many Kenyans are never taught to read. But for those that can, reading material is a prized possession. Can you imagine having no access to T.V., radio, internet, books or newspapers. I found neighbors bartering with each other at the chance to borrow a newspaper from one month prior. Even those that cannot read will try to make out words and relish each and every photo.

Anyway, there was one magazine that I held on to because the cover story was “IDP – Internally Displaced Persons.” Recently, I was finally able to read it. Please, please read this story. There is more to tell, but you will begin to understand why I must go back.

Being a Tourist

On Sunday January 16, my itinerary with VICDA began. I had paid to participate in a volunteer tourism trip, so we were off to do some sightseeing in Nairobi before we headed to the IDP camps in the Rift Valley. After breakfast, David, who would be our driver for the next several days, arrived with Jenn Winter, who would be my ‘western guide’. David is a calm and friendly man who I learned later was a widower that had worked his way up from a mechanic to self-taught safari driver. Jenn is a photographer from Chicago who has been dedicated to helping VICDA and the people of Kenya since her first volunteer trip in 2006. They both are talkative and funny and kept me very amused with their banter, questions and stories.

We set off into the heart of Karen, a suburb of Nairobi, known for it’s beautifully landscaped grounds surrounding large homes built in the days of British colonial rule. Most safer properties in and around Nairobi have manned gates and I wondered how people afford the labor. I learned later that these guards get paid very little.

Our first stop was the Giraffe Centre. Due to our early morning timing on a Sunday, the park was empty and we had the feeding deck to ourselves. Jenn had been there before and warned me to beware of some of the giraffes who might give you a swift bonk on the head for more food if you begin to ignore them. I felt a little timid with them, but Jenn was comfortable talking to the keepers and even fed one of the giraffes with her mouth. They talked about what a wonderful experience it is for Kenyan school children who are lucky enough to get to visit and I thought about how my daughter will love coming to this place one day.

Next we are off to the Elephant Orphanage. I love elephants, always have. I often tell mothers in childbirth classes about the video I saw once of an elephant in labor. The other female elephants circled around the mother. With their backs to her (probably because no one likes to be watched in labor, I say) the elephants swayed back and forth and made noises similar to the laboring mother. I love this image.

What was most interesting to me about the orphanage were the keepers. They appeared to be an elite group of highly educated and passionate Kenyans. They recounted the story of each baby’s rescue and described their continuous care for them night and day. They feed them every 3 hours, sleep in their stalls and keep them warm at night. You could see the obvious bonds formed as the baby elephants followed their keepers around, just as they would their mother. These elephant orphans are eventually released into a reserve and finally into the wild.  I was touched by the passion and dedication of these men and tried to imagine what life was like for them.

Our next destination was shopping and lunch. We headed to the Ya-Ya center, a western style mall with outdoor tourist market. Shopping has never been a favorite pastime of mine, but I wanted to at least bring home a few gifts so I was up for the adventure. Little did I know just how useful Jen’s tips for negotiation would be. As soon as we entered the market, we were bombarded with greetings and tricks of solicitation. My mind was on sensory overload and I am horrible at trying to ignore people, so I grabbed a few things at my first stop and got out of there. Plus, what did I really need if I was going to come back home, sell all my stuff and return to Kenya anyway.

By the end of the day, I was very happy to have seen some of the sights, but I went to bed that night writing in my journal of how much I hoped that this trip would lead me to a place to serve. I came to Africa searching for something and even if I wasn’t sure what that “something” was, I prayed that God would lead me to it.

Jenn Winter’s blog

I am working on another post, there is so much to write about, so much to share. As Jenn has said, “one day in Kenya can feel like 50 hours” because so much happens. I am writing the story in chronological order and can’t wait to share stories of the IDP camps with you all.

Today I cried again as I read this post by Jenn. http://jennwinter.com/2011/02/09/having-faith/ I cannot wait to be with those women again, I miss them so much already. It is so hard to describe all of the gifts and blessings they have already given to me.

You can subscribe to Jenn’s blog as well. She is an amazing photographer and you will love her images of Africa as she shares them. Jenn is so dedicated to VICDA and the projects it serves. While in Kenya she mentioned the desire to help Irene get a VICDA-US non-profit going so that it would help in fundraising efforts. So, I have volunteered to help in that effort however I can. Right now we are figuring out a way to have a skype conference call across countries and time zones to begin the planning. I am so happy Jenn and I will stay connected that way and maybe meet in Kenya again one day!

Making Friends in Nairobi

I had arranged to include a few days on my own before and after the  itinerary planned through VICDA. To start, I would spend a few nights in Nairobi at the same accommodations that VICDA planned for its volunteers, The Shalom House.

This was the perfect place to ease into the new and unfamiliar world where I had landed. The Shalom House is a quiet and safe compound which caters to volunteers and NGOs (Non-Government Organizations). There is a beautifully landscaped courtyard in the middle of several well maintained buildings. The hotel offers dorm style or private rooms. I had a private room with single bed, small table, private bathroom, mosquito net and breakfast included for 2,000 Ksh (about $26) per night. Although the shower was not hot and the water only on sporadically, I was very happy to have these luxuries. The Shalom House offers meeting space and workshops and I felt very comfortable among what appeared to be other volunteers and a occassional group of Kenyan clergymen gathered with Bibles in hand. I was happy to feel safe without being in the typical tourist locations.

There is also an internet cafe on site, which allowed me to touch base with those back home and led me to my first friend in Africa, Jack, who worked there. As with most other Kenyans in Nairobi, he spoke eloquent English and greeted me with a friendly smile. I asked if he could point me in the direction of walking to the nearest Chemist shop, which is a pharmacy where you can buy just about any medicine ‘over the counter’. My missionary clients from Sudan had given me advice on some medicines that might be good to carry and I wanted to add to the supplies I planned to carry to the IDP camp. He recommended I hire a driver, but when he saw that I was not going to take his advice, he insisted on escorting me.

Outside of the quiet compound, I found my senses overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of Nairobi. Matatus and other vehicles honked and wove around each other down the busy Ngong road. We made our way along the dirt foot path highway that accompanies every paved road in Kenya. Really, the amount of foot traffic was like nothing I had ever seen. A short distance and few turns later and we were passing storefronts made of tin and wood.

We conducted the usual questions for getting to know each other a bit and by the time we were back at Shalom, I felt a strong instinct that Jack was someone I could trust. He had to return to work, but offered to call a friend of his who was a taxi driver to assist me in the sight-seeing activities that I had planned for the rest of the day. Later I would meet two volunteers who had everything, including their passports, stolen from them while walking from Shalom House in the middle of the day. I learned more and more how dangerous Nairobi can be.

And so I met Albert. Although he gave me no special treatment in fees (it is very expensive to hire a private taxi driver in Nairobi, around $50 for the day), he was the most excellent tour guide and really a life saver at times. I insisted he join me on my excursions to the National Museum and authentic Kenyan lunch in City Center. He had an amazing ability to convince street guards to provide us with parking spots and without his guidance, I would have been much to afraid to try to navigate around the large capital city.

That evening Albert also introduced me to Nairobi nightlife. I saw the westernized side of Kenya as we hopped around restaurants, bars and dance clubs. With Djs playing old American classics, TVs on the wall, a very diverse crowd and women dressed in heels; I could have forgotten I was on the other side of the world. We swapped stories and inquiries. I shared my favorite music by ipod and they marveled at the device. They took me to hear a very popular singer, Kidum, perform his beautiful love songs in Swahili.

At one stop, I shared the tragedy, grief and pain that almost led me to ending my life in 2010 but eventually led me to Africa. Then Albert shared his story of surviving the Rwandan genocide as a small child. He watched many of his family members tortured and killed and barely escaped alive after being beaten and left for dead. He urged me to never give up and to remember that life is worth living, even when the pain seems more than you can bear. I cried and thanked him for giving me this perspective. I knew this trip would help me to heal. I now consider Jack and Albert my good friends and look forward to the day I can see them again.

Adjusting

After over 30 hours of travel time, I arrived back home on Thursday evening. For my flight, I wore my cleanest clothes. Even in Nairobi, laundry is done by hand. The pants I saved for the airport had been washed in my hotel room shower before I headed to the Rift Valley. Here is a picture of me with the other volunteers that are currently living at GIWA farm, the morning I am leaving.

Next to me is Ula, Danielle and Rachel. Ula is a police woman from New Zealand on a two year leave from work. Her six month stay in Kenya is one of several projects she has volunteered for. Her next stay will be in South Dakota on an Indian Reservation. She is a strong and vibrant woman especially good at putting out smoldering fires and picking up on the local language.  

Rachel is a student on her second volunteer term in Kenya. She worked with a school in the slums of Nairobi before and was the most excellent guide for me and Danielle. She escorted us on our first trip by matatu to the nearest bigger town of Nakuru and gave us all the tips and directions we needed to feel comfortable.

Danielle is an ER nurse who quit her job to fulfill her life long dream of volunteering in Africa. She has just begun her three month stay. We were excited to have each other to coordinate busy clinic days, consult on medicines and diagnoses, and brainstorm possible solutions for the community health problems.

As you can see, I am freshly showered on this morning (meaning a cup and bucket bath) and felt so clean that I even felt a little out of place walking through the camp to say goodbye. However, after just a short time on the plane, I began to realize that next to western standards, I was not very clean at all. You could actually see the layer of dirt still left on my pants and everything I owned had a specific earthy scent. By 15 hours into the journey, I had to apologize to anyone sitting next to me.

Now I am back to having a hot shower, razor and washing machine. And though my cupboards are bare by my usual standards, I look in them and can’t believe all of the variety. There is a lot to adjust to and a lot to do. But I am determined not to let this new inspiration slip away from me. For the first time in a long while, I am waking before the sun and excited to greet the day. I have a new appreciation for so many things and have been reminded of what is really important to me.

It will take me weeks to process all that has happened but I plan to share it here, piece by piece as I process. In the meantime, you can also begin to read some stories at Jenn Winter’s blog.

She is a photographer that has been working with Irene and VICDA since her first volunteer trip in 2006. She was my ‘guide’ during the week with VICDA and I miss her already.She is working on a documentary about the IDPs (Internally Displaced People) of the Rift Valley. She took some amazing photos, and I can’t wait to see them.

One of the things we hope to do right away is help apply for VICDA-USA non-profit status, in order to help with fundraising. You would not believe how far your donations go in Kenya. For about $12 you can sponsor a child for one year of primary school. For $75 you can pay for a necessary cesarean delivery. I will have to raise many thousands of dollars to return, so fundraising will be a primary goal for me in the coming months. Thank you all again for your love, prayers, and financial support!

Quick Update

Jambo all! The title is actually something to laugh at. If only you could experience the speed of this  internet connection. It is hilarious, definitely on Kenyan time! I just wanted to let you all know that I have made the journey today by walking a long distance.. to motorbike.. to matatu.. to taxi and in the Nairobi airport waiting for my return flight. I am sorry I have not been able to update. I have many stories to tell and will spend the next weeks recounting the lifetime of experiences I have had here in many posts for you all.

It is strange here at the airport. I am not a tourist. I have not been in search of “The Big Five”. I have no bags full of souvenirs. As hard as things are here, I am so sad to leave the people that are now part of my family. I leave part of my heart here until I return.

I love you all and look forward to seeing you soon!

On African Soil at Last

I have arrived! Flights went well and didn’t feel as difficult as the last time I flew overseas. Maybe it is partly due to all the great movies they have available to watch on your own screen now, which many of you know, put me right to sleep. I cried to “Eat, Pray, Love” and contemplated more about what this journey is for me. One quote from the movie stuck with me, ” Sometimes in a quest to help yourself, you help everyone” and I would add that “Often in a quest to help everyone, you help yourself”.

From Amsterdam to Nairobi, I sat next to a Kenyan woman returning from her current home in Atlanta to visit her family, including her son and newborn grand baby. We had a great time visiting and she was excited to learn about VICDA and wanted to know how she could get involved. On my left was a young Dutch woman who was on her way to a three month stay in Nairobi as part of  her studies in social work. She will be working with children in local hospitals. From what I could tell, most of the plane was filled with similar stories.

I landed after dark so was not able to see Nairobi from above. Navigating the airport, visa and luggage all went smoothly. Irene had told me that she would send a driver to pick me up, but it had been awhile since we had emailed, so I wasn’t sure to expect that or not. When I walked out of the airport, there were many people behind the barricade, some with signs. I walked back and forth a few times reading all the signs but found none with my name or VICDA. After standing there a minute wondering what to do next, I decided I needed to find a way to my accommodations. (assuming I did actually have a reservation, which was through Irene as well)

I tried my best to have things planned, but at this point realized I did not have the address of the Shalom House, where I was to stay. I walked to the first “tourist information” sign I saw. There, two young men seemed very eager to assist me at what appeared to be a very ‘informal establishment’. I was in the process of communicating my predicament to them when I turned around and saw Irene and Jen walking by. I was thrilled to see them and so grateful to have hosts to welcome me.

I have a private room here at the Shalom house, I was expecting to be in a bunk bed in the dorm room, but I have to admit, it is nice to have the privacy as I try to get acquainted with things. And a shower… I really needed it after the traveling. I am taking pictures but do not have a way to upload them on this older computer right now 🙂 There is a small cafe here, where I had breakfast this morning. Needless to say, I am having to forego my gluten-free diet and just eat what I can. I have read not to drink the water here, but again, I am just having to do what I have to do.

Today I plan to do some walking to try to orient myself with Nairobi. I am still not even sure where exactly I am. I believe I am near Karen, an upper class suburb. I need to find a chemist shop today too, in order to buy some malaria test kits and other meds that I want to take with me to the IDP camp.

Tomorrow morning I will attend orientation with the VICDA group and get an idea of the week of volunteer work planned with them. Irene and Jen said there will be plenty of opportunities to work with expecting women at the  camp. I can’t wait for that.

The sun is out. The weather is perfect. From my room I can see a foot path that leads to a community of tin covered shacks. I see men and women walking the path with watering cans. I am a little scared to venture out on my own, and the Shalom house has drivers that I can hire. But, I want to really experience this city including riding in a crowded ‘matatu’ and I am ready to get out and explore!

Finally!

Here we are, Benjamin dropping me off at the airport. My children are such a blessing and my inspiration. And so are you all. Many thanks for your prayers, love, and support. I will take many pictures and notes, as well a update when I get my first chance at a computer.

“Affirm it, visualize it, believe it, and it will actualize itself.”

Hakuna Matata!