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.

Island Life

 All life centers around Lake Victoria on Mfangano Island. It is where everyone bathes, swims, washes dishes, and scrubs clothes. The nam (luo for lake)is where the the cows, sheep, and goats go when they are thirsty and the place to islanders collect drinking water. It is where much of the island's inhabitants make a living through fishing. Men and women have different spots they go to along the lake. These designated places are respected by all through social customs and taboos and are only separated by a few trees. If the children are sent to wash the family dishes or clothes, they wash on the woman's side, even if they are boys, because washing dishes is women's work. Even at a young age, they carry the large plastic basins on their heads, overflowing with black bottomed pans and plastic bowls. Rather than haul water up the hill to bathe (which no one does), the locals wash their bodies and hair in the lake. At first I was reluctant to do this. My training to keep soap out of the fresh water was ingrained, but I too, succumbed to local tradition. Toto and I swam at least twice a day, sometimes three times, because we knew it was our last chance to enjoy the warm, clear waters of Lake Victoria.

According to the folks at Ekialo Kiona, Lake Victoria is over-fished, since apparently the Kenyan government does not regulate the fishing industry. Years back, Nile Perch was introduced into the Lake. They are a huge fish, growing up to 70 pounds, the weight of a ten year old!. They are also carniverous and eat the small fish in the lake. Nile Perch are sold mainly to processing companies where they are made into fish sticks for MacDonalds and the like. Who makes money? Mostly the processing companies. The fishermen are paid a small price for their effort.Think about that the next time you eat at MacDonalds.

Photos in order:

The launch we took to Mfangano Island
Jacob's extended family next to his house
Toto on the boat
Donated bicycles from Bicycles for Humanity (Colorado based) at Ekialo Kiona

Toto arrived on Mfangano Island after a 3 hour wait for the launch that brought us here. It works like most places I have been in Africa. There is no schedule. The driver waits until the vehicle fills up. We took a swim in our clothes while we were waiting, read the paper, chatted with the locals. Finally, we were off. The boat was filled with only about 17 people. The rest was goods that were being carried to various islands in Lake Victoria. Mfangano Island is inhabited by Suba and Luo people. They get along well, but the Suba culture and language are being lost to the dominant Luo. There is one road on the island, but too rough for most vehicles. In fact, there is only one car here. The mode of transport is boda boda (motorcycle), bicycle, and foot. Bicycles are becoming more popular since the organization called Ekialo Kiona sells used bikes at a good price. It is an amazing organization that was started by a Suba man and an American. Their goal is prevention and treatment of HIV/AIDS but they address many other issues on the island such as overfishing, reforestation, community health.

Jacob and his wide family welcomed us  to the island. His wife and two young children live here while Jacob travels back and forth from here to Nairobi to make beads and jewelry. Most people on Mfangano make there living through fishing and farming. Most do not have electricity and the few I have seen did so through solar energy.  Houses are usually made from mud and wattle with corrugated iron roofs. Jacob, like most families, uses his crops of corn, cassava, and millet to feed his family. Any cash comes from sales of jewelry.  The names of Jacob's children and family members are interesting to me. Although many name their kids traditionally, Luos and Subas often name their children after people they admire. For instance, here are names of Jacob's relatives: Kelly, Obama, Yitzakrabin (after the slain Israeli leader), Kim Deprenger (yes, he named his new baby after me!), Junior, Kennedy, and Kofi.

The pictures below are:

Toto, Jacob, and I in front of Ekialo Kiona
Jacob and his family (Lilian, Kelly, and Kim)
Jacob's mom (Julita) with her grandchildren

Toto and Kim with Jacob's mom in Mbita
Kelly carrying her little cousin