Kale Children's Library Has Moved to Nakuru

Dear Biking for Books Supporters,

Below is an e-mail from Toto about Kale Children's Library. He was forced to move the books to Malaika, which is an orphanage in Nakuru that has better security. Thank to all of you who donated money and goods to Kale. Your donations live on in the hearts of the orphans at Maliaka.


Hi Kimi!I hope tthat you are well and that you haven't been stung by bees. How are your students at DM doing?  I also see that you are adjusting well to the people of the North. Deep down they will touch your heart in ways that you never knew.It's like an Ethiopian telling a kenyan that the authoritarian regime in Abyssinia is painful;they don't get it but i guess having lived your life there it must be heartening. I would like to update you on what is going on at Kale's.
>On the 7th January 2013 the members of Kale
>Children’s library met and decided that it was time that we moved from our
>present location in Nairobi to Nakuru. This was brought about by the following
>reasons :
>
> Insecurity and
>pilfering of books. In the last 3 years and 6 months, thugs have broken into
>the library once and books have been pilfered a number of times by our
>community members. We have recovered a number of books but the thieves are
>becoming resilient and adopting ways of beating the systems that we put in
>place.
>
>Lack of a conducive environment. When we began in 2009 the
>library stood on its own but we now have a saloon shop on our right and a
>Mandazi fryer on our left. They are both noisy and the smell emitted from the
>fryer carries smoke into the library. We have also experienced electricity
>tampering which has given as a bill 15 times our usual consumption. A
>construction vehicle also collapsed our steps and changed the landscape of the
>area. Anytime it rains rain trickles in.
>
>Lack of funding: As per our tenant agreement our rent
>increases by 5per cent every year. For the past three years we have been charging
>Ksh 10/ for children and 20/ for adults. We provide reading materials, computer
>lessons, Art lessons and Chess for ksh 10/ yet some parents find it exorbitant.
>We have done biking for books with kim Deprenger i.e. Nairobi to Isiolo 2011,
>Nairobi to Mfangano Island 2012, Nairobi to Mombasa 2009 with Pinky and Ambi
>Singh to raise  funds and awareness. But
>at the end of the day we have been unable to pay salaries. Well, I knew that we
>would not be on the Fortune 500 of the Forbes List but then again Social
>Entrepreneurs rarely are.
>
>All in all we leave with our heads held high. We will donate
>the books and shelves  to Malaika Children’s Home. I know them
>well as I have visited them about 12 times in the past three years and a half
>as a volunteer. I will help set up the library and volunteer my services when I
>can. It pains me to leave but we have no choice and decisions have to be made
>no matter how painful. I will still use Steve's laptop to teach a few kids after work.Am doing a few odd jobs here and there as my swimming lessons are yet to improve.
>
>
>I thank you for standing by us during our triumphs and
>trials. I did not seek out heroes but looked from within and realized that we all
>owe mankind. All mistakes are mine.

 

>

Using the Computer at Kale Childrens Library

Toto sent me these photos of drawings made by a talented child who comes to Kale Library to use the computer donated last year.

Nairobi

Nairobi. I have a love/hate relationship with Nairobi. Riding a bicycle here is harrowing, but a 20 minute bike ride to Eastleigh in contrast can take 1 1/2 hours on a matatu (bus) because of congestion. I can ride through Westlands with its spacious homes, shaped shrubbery, and blooming flowers, or to Pimani, Eastleigh, Kibera, or Githerai where barely a tree or patch of green exists and the only color is the occasional bright Kanga worn by Kenyan women.

Space is at a premium in Nairobi.  There are rich neighborhoods such as Karen, where one family can share a huge house with outbuildings, horse barns, and colorful gardens. However, almost everyone I met lived in a room just big enough to put a bed, a table, and a chair. Even these items were so crowded that one could not actually walk through the room. More like scoot or slide within the 6 inch space between the furniture. In most instances, 2 or 3 people shared that small flat.

Nairobi is home of the Arts and talented Kenyans gather here to show off their skills. Within a 10 minute walk from the Central YMCA where I stay, are Alliance Francais, the Kenyan National Theater, and the Goethe Institute. Every week there are plays, dance performances, or free movies. My favorite is Alliance Francais, which has never dissapointed me. In July, I attended two comedies which were so funny that some of us were literally doubled over in laughter. Even more amazing was that one of the plays was performed by students from USIU,a private university in the area.

In Githerai, I visted The Doves soccer team with their coach Chege. The boys who received the donated shoes from the U.S. wore them proudly. The team was in the process of looking for a new area to play in because they had complaints from the church near their former playing field. Too much noise they said. It wasn't even during church hours! One neighborhood teen was actually arrested for tresspassing by the police because a church member was on the police force. Chege and his "boys" never give up and continue to practice and compete with neighboring teams in whatever space they can find that can pass as a soccer field.

The Doves

Kim and Toto at the Central YMCA in Nairobi before they began Biking for Books.




Handmade furniture sold on the streets of Nairobi, Limuru Road

South Africa/Yasha/Street Kids

                 I don't even know where to start when I speak of Lydia and Wilco Venter, a South African couple who have adopted eight children from South Africa and Kenya. In spite of their family's objections, they went with their hearts and faith and jumped into the fire. The first several years in Kenya were the most difficult since they had almost no money. Their dream was to start schools in isolated areas and rescue orphans and street children. They have done all that and more. They have started six schools, but I will tell you a bit about the one in Njoro, where I visited. In Njoro, the original homestead of the Venters, there now stands Yasha Guest House and school. One thing about Kenya, there are baby classes and preschools all over the country. Quite impressive for a developing country. Check out the photos below of nap time (about 10 babies in one bed!). The school goes to fourth grade and includes an American curriculum, field trips, hot lunches and recess. The Guest House, which can still accommodate guests at a low price, also houses a new project for street boys. Right now, about six are bunked in one small room, but it is like the Hilton for them. Boys as young as 5 years old are on the streets of Nakuru (and all major cities), struggling to survive. Many of them sniff glue to lesson hunger pangs. Lydia and Wilco look for the ones who are younger and have a better chance at rehabilitation. Most of the kids they adopted were once abandoned or ran away from terrible home situations themselves. Below is a photo of boy named Sammy who Lydia met on the street. Sammy, 6 years old, walked /hitchhiked from Mombassa to Nakuru after his mom died. If she can find a sponsor, he will be the next one that Yasha Ministries will bring into their fold.

                                                                  Venter Family

Sammy, 6 year old street boy

If anyone is interested in volunteering at any of the schools, stay in the Guest House, or sponsor a child, feel free to contact Lydia at <lydiaventer09@gmail.com>

                               A volunteer group from England came to paint on of the classrooms.

After leaving Kipkelion, I cycled over a peaceful back road to a town called Mole. This was where much of the 2008 post election violence took place. The Norwegian Refugee Council, The Danish Refugee Council, and UNHCR all set up camp here to take care of the thousands of IDP (Internally Displaced Persons) who whose lives were disrupted during land disputes. According to the Norwegian Refugee Council, it was not just a simple tribal issue, but social standing and other things came into play. The NRC was building homes to replace those that had been burned down and to encourage people to come back to their shambas (farms) and work the land again.

After passing through Molo, it was an easy ride to Njoro, just 25 km south of Nakuru. In Njoro, I stayed with a family on the Egerton University campus. I met Chacha on the plane several years ago and we became friends. He is a renowned history professor there and travels all over the world (thus, the meeting on the airplane) giving lectures and going to conferences.This was the third time I stayed with his family. Two of his children were home and we spent the evening playing cards. I taught them Fish and Old Maid and they taught me a game called Colors. Egerton Universiy is unlike any I have ever seen. It is 3,000 acres (or was that 6,000?) They have farmland on which they grow several crops, a dairy farm, bio fuel plant, Model Organic Farm, Herbal Medicine Research facility, Montessori School, and even a herd of llamas.

                                                     Two farmers going to their shamba (farm)

I stopped at a small shamba on the way as I saw lots of women (some very old) walking with huge bundles on their backs. It was kidney bean harvesting time. Maharagwe is a common Kenyan staple food, along side sakuma wiki (collard greens) and ugali (thick porridge made from cornmeal) The men beat the dried bean stalks with huge sticks to release the beans from their pods. Once that is done, the women come with their rope and forehead strap and haul away the dried pods and leaves to feed their cows. As you can see from the photo below, I could not pick up this heavy load. How do the 70 year old women do it? They put me to shame!

SImbi Lake/Pool Game in Kipkelion

Before I left Kendu Bay, I was escorted by Mathew via bicycle to a saltwater lake, formed by a volcanic eruption. I can't tell you the geological details, but I CAN tell you the Luo folktale surrounding its formation. Mathew told me that long ago, a poor woman was thirsty and approached a group of men drinking busaa (remember that? The local beer). Since the tradition was that women were not allowed to be in the same area as men were gathered, they refused her water. She asked another group of men, who also turned her away. Finally, one of the mothers who was making the busaa gave the poor woman something to drink. The elder woman instructed the younger one, who also had a baby on her back, to leave the area with her child and not look back. The woman did leave, but at the last minute, could not help herself and looked back. To her amazement, it began to pour and it did not stop raining until all the men and their belongings had sunk into the ground. That is why Lake Simbi is sunken down, or so the Luo say.

Although the lake is too salty to drink or wash clothes, if a hole is dug only a few feet away, the water is much less salty and can be used for washing. In the picture below, you can see a young woman washing in one of the holes that has been dug next to the lake. In another photo, you can see a young boy next to Lake Simbi. He is gathering the salty soil to sell to venders who will process it into a salt lick for farmers to give their cattle. Not only does the salt kill stomach worms, it also increases appetite so the cow will fatten up more quickly.

                                               Leah and two of her children


I traveled a couple more days until I arrived, in the rain, at a small town called Kipkelion. It was in a valley, surrounded by green hills with tea, corn, and grass to graze the thousands of dairy cows in the area. It reminded me of the Swiss Alps, where I lived in my 20's. The only thing missing was the tinkling of cow bells. At the hotel, which I paid my typical $3.00, I met a Masai woman named Leah. Her husband was in jail and she was caring for her three young children on a paltry salary. She boiled water for my shower (it was freezing there!) and took me to the local bar for a Tusker. A group of young soldiers were playing pool, so of course I challenged one of them to a game. I learned to play pool as a child, in our basement, but hadn't played in years. My competitor had a Kikuyu nickname, which I forgot, but in English it meant "The one who never dies". I actually won the game, which was probably an embarrassment to the young man.Fortunately, he only had to pay 10 shillings for the next game. It's hard to leave some of these small towns because of the memories they contain, but I didn't think I could bear another day of rain and endless mud.

Kendu Bay/Ramadan

Toto has gone back to Nairobi so I'm on my own. Traveling alone is a different kind of experience. More ebb and flow of time. In a small village between Mbita and Homa Bay, I played checkers for a bottle of coke. (see photo) I lost, costing me 50 shillings. At Homa Bay, I stayed at the New Jersey Hotel again, this time making sure my room wasn't next to the men's urinal (that was one sleepless night!)There was even electricity this time around.

Remember that Homa Bay is the place where the hyacinth is so overgrown, that there is no access to Lake Victoria there, causing fishermen to figure out another way to make a living. The locals told me an amazing story. A launch with 30 passengers was on its way to one of the islands when clumps of this green weed blew in and surrounded the boat, preventing it from moving. They stayed in that boat for one week, trapped by green growth. It wasn't until a helicopter from Kisumu came that they were airlifted out of there. When a heavy rain came, the hyacinth broke up and the boat was able to move out.

I rode to Kendu Bay where I learned a bit about local Luo culture waited. Irritated at a group of villagers who refused to leave me read in the shade in peace, I simply packed up and moved down the road. After a good rest, I was approached by three men who wondered if I needed rescuing. They invited me to the local micro-brewery where a group of women were distilling Busaa from corn and millet. Five of us enjoyed the mildly alcoholic drink (also called pombe in Kiswahili) and discussed various issues as we sat in the house owner's living room. After I paid (of course) the 80 shillings (about 90 cents), the small group escorted me to a small hotel in the Old Town of Kendu Bay. It was located in a Muslim area and being the first day of Ramadan, the residents were jubilant. About 10:00 in the evening, I walked outside to the sound of children shouting and singing as they made their way home from the mosque. The next morning, the same kids raced through the streets at 5 a.m. shouting SALAT, SALAT. Time to pray.

In Kendu Bay I met one of the most interesting, hospitable, and memorable people. He hugged me the minute he saw me, very unusual for a Kenyan. Three times, in fact, like an Ethiopian greeting. He introduced himself as Najob. His father was from Yemen but Najib grew up in the Luo tribal area of Kendu Bay.  He had two wives. The first wife was from Yemen. He never told me what happened to her. His second wife was a Luo woman, a Christian at that. He expressed his love for her, even as she sat in the room. "I love this woman. Isn't she beautiful?" I had  never heard an African man be so public with his emotions. She sat on the sofa, smiling innocently like a new bride.

Najib told me he had 14 kids (or was that grand kids??) The oldest ones were quite Arab looking while the children with his Luo wife were more African in their features and color. While we sat in Najib's living room, banging sounds filled the air. Soft sounds, like metal spoons on plastic. The was Nywawa, a Luo custom that happens once a year. It is believed that the spirits of dead ancestors come back to disturb the living. So in order to chase them off, the residents find anything in the house that makes noise and take to the streets. In Kendu Bay, the spirits were chased to Lake Victoria and sent on their way until the next year when they would surely return.