Unheard World

Why Go Abroad?

2012-01-12T00:17:00.002+03:00

Just four months ago, I stood scooping beans into canvas sacks in Kenya to hand out to hungry families. My skirt swept the dusty ground; my sandals were stained Kenyan-earth-red.

Now, I stride around in blouses and heels and business attire - a chameleon shifting to match a strikingly different world: the U.S. government. Despite the change, dealing with U.S. Embassy projects has reinforced what I suspected already: an educated worldview, especially one gained by actually traveling to see the world, is priceless.

What does it say about American society that we can Google Earth the far corners of the world in a second, but we tend to stick to our own neighborhoods and social circles - not to mention our own language? Only 30% of U.S. citizens have passports, according to a CNN report; even fewer are bilingual.

Here’s why I go abroad, and why you should be part of that 30% - and the even smaller percentage that catch the travel bug for life:

1. To understand what drives cultural practices – why human beings, ourselves and others, live the way we do.

2. To see yourself through the eyes of the rest of the world, gaining perspective on your own culture.

3. To discover beauty in all its facets and faces.

4. To draw inspiration from the artistic expressions of other cultures. Human capacity for art and creativity is endless.

5. To enrich your life with friendships stretching all across the globe. (Not to mention that from a networking perspective, it never hurts to have contacts in many different countries.)

6. To contribute meaningfully to today’s global society. Many of my friends in Kenya are a click away on Facebook, so it seems easy to say we’re linked to the rest of the world. But after seeing the struggles of many Kenyans trapped in poverty (starvation, AIDS, malaria, stigmatization of disabilities, etc.) with my own eyes, I can now better explain and advocate for help from Americans at home. I have proof – photographs, quotes I wrote down, people I can call on as sources. I can also better interpret and analyze our own media: what stories are told and what is left out; whether political spin is slanting world stories and reports; what is considered important “news” elsewhere in the world versus here in America.

7. To collect stories to tell. As a result of my many trips abroad, I never run out – whether it’s getting washed down a waterfall in Australia, building a house out of mud in Kenya, or losing myself in the streets of Rome for a day.

8. To shatter stereotypes – either those you’ve unconsciously held against others, or those others have assumed of you. For me, I want to prove not all Americans are insensitive, uncultured, self-absorbed, rich, bland. The truth is: we have our failings as a society, but we are diverse, ungroupable; a collection of differences. We come from everywhere, our skins shaded every color. Some of us don’t care about the world – but many of us do. Just the other week, my Congolese friend told me something that I’ll never forget. We were discussing world problems – the turmoil of Arab Spring, the villages I visited in Kenya struggling to survive without food, business monopolies keeping down the poorest of the poor, and the filmy coat of corruption greasing much of U.S. politics. He argued that changing the way we run elections in the U.S .(such as banning private endorsements to candidates) could go a long way towards changing how things are run in the country as a whole – i.e. many of the issues scrawled across the posters of “Occupy” protestors – and could even change the world. “I think Americans are actually good people,” he said. “I think regular Americans are like you – trying to help people, traveling to other countries, hoping to make a difference. But those are not the Americans that get elected.” Those are not the Americans that the world sees. But we can change that.

From every trip I return with new ideas, new inspiration, and new friendships. Immersion in the world is just as valuable an education as the one you gain in college.

Next trip for me? Maybe a program through GoAbroad for improving French and volunteering in Cameroon; or maybe I’ll return to Kenya to work with HEART once again. The opportunities are endless, if you take the time to look.

Food Delivery in Meru, Kenya

2011-09-12T01:09:00.001+03:00

Food Delivery in Meru, Kenya, a set on Flickr.

Photos are up!

Drought in Meru: Hidden Suffering

2011-09-09T10:35:00.000+03:00

On the drive north from Nairobi into upper Meru, the changing scenery paints a bleak picture. Thick greenery gradually grows sparser, the color bleaching away into dirt and dust. Drooping with the weight of dull and thirsty leaves, the stubborn trees that have survived seem tired, listless.

East Africa is facing the worst drought in 60 years, according to Oxfam. In Kenya, the estimated food insecure population is 3.5 million as of July 2011. Of that number, UNICEF reports an estimated 385,000 children to be acutely malnourished.

While media attention and government aid remain primarily focused on north Kenya, where the drought is most extreme, other semi-arid regions in Kenya such as Meru have also been severely impacted. In north Meru, the situation is dire; the region has been suffering from drought for years. Out of a population of 44,000, the community has faced five deaths from starvation within the past month.

Taking Action
In response to this crisis, HEART appealed to friends and contacts in the U.S. for donations, and the resulting $4,000 in contributions enabled us to purchase 800 packs of maize flour (5 kg each) and 10 bags of beans (100 kg each) for Meru. This past Sunday, a team from HEART including myself and several others drove the six hours north to upper Meru to distribute this food to the community.

“We’ve had a climate change for three years, and we haven’t harvested any crops,” explained Pastor Joshua Mberia, the KFS Area Coordinator in Meru, when we arrived. “So the areas are very dry and starving. It is affecting everybody in this area – we are going without food.”

While southern Meru has food and water, northern Meru continues to face a harsh existence in which eating once a day is a luxury for most families. There are no streams or rivers, and any attempts by the government or other organizations to drill boreholes have failed – the water lurks deep.

The community survives mainly by growing and selling miraa, a plant that, when chewed, acts as an amphetamine-like stimulant. Most other crops are not hardy enough to survive the current conditions. Water must be purchased and transported from other areas for four to six times the price it would cost Nairobi – a price most cannot afford. And so they go without.

The Only Source of Aid
With the lack of aid coming to the community, Pastor Mberia told us that HEART has become the single source of emergency assistance for the people. This trip marked the third such food distribution HEART has conducted in the area (one each year since 2009).

Since its mission is disease prevention education, HEART does not have an official food distribution program, though it does build greenhouses in some communities as a source of food and income. But after receiving personal appeals from the local committee that coordinates HEART’s Kids For School (KFS) project in Meru, HEART staff determined that an exception must be made. (HEART assisted this group to form as an official community-based organization in 2006, when the KFS program began.)

The KFS project currently enables 150 kids from 106 households in Meru to attend school – but how could these kids go to school when they were starving?

“Schools were opening, but children were sent home because they had no food,” explained Mzee.

To address this problem, on Sept. 4 we distributed the donated flour and beans to those 106 households containing children enrolled in the KFS program, providing for a total of 455 kids (KFS children plus their siblings). The remaining food was distributing among the most needy people in the community.

“Your cry—we hear it,” Mzee told the crowd waiting to receive the food. “Your pain is our pain.”

As we scooped beans and dropped packs of flour into the canvas bags brought by the guardians of the KFS kids, beamed from many faces – both providers and receivers. Now, these families would have food for at least a little while longer.

“We have been suffering for long. For the period of the last three years we have not harvested anything,” announced the Chief of the community. “Today we are hungry, but tomorrow we will be satisfied.”

Unfortunately, not everyone was smiling. Though the families were grateful enough to sing songs and present poetry and dances in thanks, this assistance was like a drop of water in a sea of suffering. The food delivered by HEART would last approximately 1-2 weeks – and then they would be hungry again. And it was not enough to feed the hundreds of additional people who flocked to the distribution site, hoping to receive a portion of the food. They watched us from the sidelines, faces blank, eyes hungry.

Sustainable Solution Needed
HEART has done what it can, but as the drought and famine continue, the need remains urgent. School has resumed session, but as the food runs out and kids are unable to eat, the classrooms grow empty.

“This distribution will last for some weeks, and then it will be finished and the problem will repeat,” said Pastor Mberia. “I am worried because I don’t know what will happen. This food that has come – I don’t know how it will feed the children for three months [during the school session].”

Members of the Kabachi KFS Committee have reported incidents of children eating poisonous wild fruits because they are hungry, or skipping school to sell firewood. “If you wake up in the morning, you can see small children carrying grass to sell to buy food,” said William Nkunja, the committee treasurer.

So why has it come to this? According to UNICEF, the famine in East Africa is the result of years of drought due to climate change, skyrocketing prices of food and fuel, and the trap of exclusion and poverty for communities such as Meru.

Meru community leaders have attempted to think of ideas for sustainable solutions to the food and water problem, such as drilling boreholes or setting up water storage tanks to collect rain. Unfortunately, north Meru’s unique situation seems to present obstacles at every turn: a lack of any rivers, a water table too deep beneath the ground, the people’s traditional dependence on agriculture, and lack of funds to support projects or business ideas.

“The nature of human beings is to forget things,” said Pastor Mberia. “Every time there is drought and we get food, we forget ideas, because we don’t have resources to support those ideas.”

For now, Meru is depending on emergency assistance, and any little bit helps. Even one bag of flour can keep a child alive for another week.

“The aid we have now received from HEART is very vital to us,” said John Mugaa, secretary of the local KFS committee. “We have tried many different ways of providing food, but this is the only successful way. We are very thankful for what HEART has done for us and we are praying for more aid.”

The One Behind the Camera

2011-08-31T10:06:00.001+03:00

Glimpses of me in Kenya: some photos others have taken during the time I've been here - for those who want proof of my presence!

The HEART team (in Kisii)

What one of the traditional houses looks like inside (we are drinking chai tea)

Building the house in Kisii out of mud

Gifts to our team to thank us for building the house (Kisii)

Dancing in celebration after we finished the house

Life in Kenya: Inspiration

2011-08-31T01:56:00.002+03:00

Since I’ve last written, unbelievable experiences have continued to flood my life in Kenya with a constant rush of colors and shock and laughter. One thing I love about this country - almost every experience can be defined by color, or lack of it:

Turquoise sky and sea – as I flew from Nairobi out to Mombasa on the east coast of Kenya

A flash of red blood, startling against sterile white – as we witnessed doctors performing free surgery on patients with cleft lip at Msambweni Hospital (I was there to document the event - don't worry, I won't show the blood...)

Chalky brown earth, dried mud, sun-bleached trash scattered over the road – on the way to visit two WEEP (Women’s Empowerment Equality Program) Centers for women with HIV, one in Mombasa and one in Kibera slum near Nairobi

Gray ink on my hands – joining the Kenyan custom of reading the paper every day; pitching an article to be published in The Star (one of Kenya’s national newspapers)

Dappled green light – standing under tropical trees with our heads craned up, watching a man scale a 30-foot coconut tree while carrying a machete

Blue ocean spray against my eyes – as I tore across the water on a jetski (driving for the first time)

Bright red, green, yellow, and white beadwork of the Maasai – their handicrafts are everywhere

The creamy brown of chai tea – served in every home we visit

Silver storm skies – silhouetting the rustling palm trees

Another thing I’ve noticed about this country: Kenyans are always starting an organization or founding a non-profit or fixing a problem, in some way or another – practically everyone I meet is guilty of this innovation and initiative! I love it. It’s inspiring. In the U.S., we are so choked up with the mindset that “it’s all been done before” that few ever just take their dream and run with it.

Here, that happens every day. In Mombasa, I met one of the founders of Eco Village Africa, a young man not much older than me. In Nairobi, I’ve met countless nurses (such as the sweet but savvy Vickie Winkler, who founded HEART), and doctors (such as the amazing Dr. Onguti, who founded the organization that provides free cleft surgeries to the poor).

Women With HIV – Empowering Themselves
Yet another case in point: the women at the WEEP Centers across Kenya, which HEART founded to help empower women with HIV/AIDS to survive, regain their health, and learn a trade to achieve economic stability. These ladies are pulling themselves up from nothing – literally nothing. After visiting the WEEP Centers to obtain some information from the women for our records, I’ve now heard it all: a woman who was not told the reason when her husband died from HIV, so she never knew she was at risk; a woman who calmly told me that “my family left me to die alone”; woman after woman whose family or husband chased them out upon learning their HIV status, and who had no means of supporting themselves.

Now, these ladies are working with HEART staff to learn skills such as beading, sewing, tailoring, mosquito net-making, counseling, and business management. They are each developing their own small business plans, working their way up. They need support to get started with their businesses, but they have come such a long way. (Just look at the massive leaps in their CD4 counts – in one case from 2 to 355).

While I’m here in Kenya, my project with HEART is to gather and consolidate information from all the WEEP Centers, analyzing what’s working and what could be improved. So far I’ve only been to two of the Centers - but more to come.

Visiting Kibera slum today (reputedly the largest slum in sub-Saharan Africa, home to an estimated 1-2 million people) really proved to me just how great the need is. In Kenya, an estimated 1.5 million people are living with HIV, and around 1.2 million kids have been orphaned by AIDS. Slums such as Kibera overflow with HIV prevalence. Now I’ve seen the faces of these women and children – and I can tell you, the need is there.

A glimpse of Kibera slum - through a window

Above: WEEP ladies working (sewing mosquito nets) in Mombasa

They have such soft smiles, as if time and pain have washed away the warmth. If HEART hadn’t stepped in to pay for rent, medication, vitamins, and food for these women, they would likely have survived to look after their children – and we’d have even more orphans starving on the streets.

Now, these kids are in school; and the women are healthier, happier, and ready to start their businesses. If you’d like to donate to the program, please – do it. (You can contribute online here.) These are the women you would be helping – women I’ve met and hugged and shared tea with:

To give you an idea: $900 supports a woman and her children for 18 months while she gets treatment and plans her business.  $10 can purchase a malaria prevention net.  $30 can buy a uniform for an orphaned child – the WEEP ladies make the uniforms and sustain their families by selling the uniforms.  $6,000 will help open a new center.

And if you’re wondering why the program is called WEEP: “Because I could hear HIV positive mothers weeping for their children.” –HEART founder, Vickie Winkler

On Safari in Kenya - at the Maasai Mara

2011-08-30T22:30:00.001+03:00

On Safari in Kenya - at the Maasai Mara, a set on Flickr.

All the photos I took during my first African safari in west Kenya! Within the first 20 minutes we saw a male lion lazily snacking on a wildebeest, a lioness make a kill, and her cubs dancing around in glee... craziness

Full photo series

2011-08-23T13:40:00.001+03:00

Day of Mud: Building a Home in Kisii, Kenya, a set on Flickr.

Check out all my photos from the Kisii trip on Flickr!

Motivation and Mud - Building a Home in Kisii

2011-08-21T23:29:00.001+03:00

Impossible as it sounds, I have now experienced what it’s like to build a house in one day.

A week ago today (Sunday, August 14), our team from HEART loaded up the Land Cruiser and set off on the seven-hour drive to Kisii. (On the way, we passed some zebras – not something I get to see every day!)

Located in West Kenya, Kisii is a beautiful town of rolling green hills – blazing color that feels like water soaking into your eyes after the harsh dirt of the scrublands. Lush emerald undergrowth mixed with brown earth stretches as far as the eye can see, studded with tea and coffee fields, flowers, avocado trees, clusters of sugarcane, and floods of children idling, playing, or minding goats by the side of the road (always shouting “mzungu, mzungu!” excitedly as soon as they notice us). Paths hacked through the foliage wind their way to ramshackle houses.

Compared to the rest of Kenya suffering from severe drought, this town seems like another world. Populated by people of the Gusii tribe, Kisii drips with rain - and with poverty. HEART operates a Kids For School (KFS) program there, which involves setting kids up with breeding goats (a source of nourishment and income) and uniforms (required to attend school in Kenya).

Kids For School currently helps over 1,000 orphans and vulnerable children throughout rural Kenya. Out of that number, 650 are from Kisii alone. The need there is great – I could see it as we drove along, as children in dirty, torn clothes stared at us from every bend in the road. How many of these were orphans?

The local HEART project management team, led by a man named Bernard, HEART’s Area Coordinator for Kisii, also monitors the needs in the community and determines which children and families could use immediate help.

According to Bernard, there are 800 more orphans and vulnerable children on the “waiting list” for the Kids For School program in Kisii. “If this aid could just keep coming, we could impact so many people,” Bernard told us.

The true depth of the impact HEART’s work can make on a Kisii child’s life really struck me as I thought about Dr. Meshach Onguti, the man whose work I described in my last post. (During this visit to Kisii, we stayed at his home in the country). Dr. Onguti was once one of those children, facing a life of poverty in Kisii – but after he was able to attend school, the course of his life changed completely. Now, he is a successful doctor living in Nairobi, devoting extra time to perform corrective surgeries for free.

The mission in Kisii
Our mission in Kisii for the next two days was twofold: to visit a family HEART helped in the past (by building them a house and enrolling two girls in the Kids For School program), and to help build a home for another family in need.

Building the house is simple: the entire community comes together, and so the work can be done in one day. The frame is built from wood (sticks and branches), and then thick mud is packed into the frame to form the walls. Windows, doors, and a corrugated tin roof are installed to provide protection from the rain. When it hardens, the mud is almost like clay – strong and solid.

So is HEART really needed to build these homes? Yes: HEART funds purchase the furnishings for the house and materials for the doors, windows, and roof; HEART also funds the skilled labor for the installing the latter. To form solidarity with the people of Kisii, HEART also sends volunteers (such as myself and my team) to help with the basic manual labor.

“We do this to show that it’s not just about money,” said Isaac Mzee, HEART’s Field Coordinator. “And also to pose a challenge to the community – to say look, we are doing this; you can do this.”

Before building the house, we visited one of HEART’s success stories: a family in which three girls were enrolled in the Kids For School Program (as well as the “Freedom For Girls” program, which provides sanitary towels so girls don’t have to miss school during their monthly cycle). From the original gift of uniforms, a goat, and a house has sprung success and economic stability: baby goats born were later traded for a cow, which now provides milk for the family. The eldest girl is now in high school, hoping to become a doctor.

After this uplifting experience, we headed to the house to unload our bags and consume a massive Kenyan-style meal of rice and beans, vegetables of all kinds, chicken, stew, ugali, cabbage, fruit salad, and all kinds of things I can’t even name. While waiting for dinner, I played with the crowd of kids lingering outside, hoping for some attention from the strange blonde mzungu… and they got it! (Piggyback rides, clapping games, photos, letting them touch my hair.) Long day – but a longer one to come.

A day of mud
The next day was house-building time. After a breakfast of boiled eggs, tea, bread, fresh honey and mandaazi (little donut-like pastries, deep fried, usually triangular shaped), we threw on our scruffiest clothes and boots and headed to the determined spot.

The community had already gathered there in preparation for us, filling a pit with mud for the walls. They showed us around, introducing us to the family who would receive the house and furniture: a young mother and her two sons; the father had passed away. The family had been sleeping in a run-down house the size of a closet, with one bed (the boys slept on the floor). Now, the boys would get their own bed – and a whole new house.

“The boy is happy because his bed is so big,” Bernard told me, gesturing at the shyly grinning teenager. We found out the boy is already dedicated to school: he placed tenth in a class of over 80 students and wants to be an accountant.

The original house - the only bed (for the mother)

The family with the furniture they received from HEART

The two boys who will no longer have to sleep on the ground

After introductions, we got down to it: tearing down the old decaying house, digging new holes for the posts, packing them with dirt, building the wooden frame out of sticks, and forming a human chain to pass mud balls hand-to-hand until they are packed into the walls. (As we did this, the skilled laborers worked on the roof.)

With dozens of community members to help us, the work passed in a blur of sun, sweat, rain, singing, and spontaneous celebration dances. I got to talking with a local woman named Teresia, who could speak some English. Later, during a break in the work, she showed me her house – and sent a random local boy up a tree to pick me some avocados!

Finally, after hours of work, a sudden rain downpour, a lunch break for rice and beans and chai tea, and more work, the house was finished. Dancing and celebrating in the middle of the newly erected home with all the women, I couldn’t keep the grin off my face. At that moment, cultural differences didn’t matter: we had built this house together. You don’t have to speak the same language to dance – and laughter is universal!

The mud pit


Peeking inside the newly built home

Fighting the Curse of the Cleft Lip

2011-08-21T00:16:00.000+03:00

You try to eat, but food dribbles out; you go for a smile, but it emerges as a grimace. You attempt to speak clearly, but the slice across your mouth twists and blurs the words.

These are the daily struggles facing those born with a cleft lip (a small gap or an indentation in the lip, which may continue into the nose) or cleft palate (when the two plates that form the roof the mouth are not completely joined).

In the Western world, corrective surgery is relatively easy to access, and these kids often go on to live healthy, normal lives.

But in many developing countries, the scene is sharply different: millions of children suffer from unrepaired clefts and facial deformities, attempting to live out their lives without the corrective surgery they cannot afford or access. These children face stigmatization and isolation; they are often considered a curse to their families. Sometimes they are abandoned or killed at birth.

In Kenya, an estimated 30,000 children with facial deformities await surgery – especially in rural areas. International nonprofit organizations such as Smile Train periodically arrive and provide free surgeries and training for doctors, but these visits are few and far between.

Now, a small team of doctors based in Nairobi is taking action to change this reality.

During my work with HEART here in Kenya, I met a wonderful man named Dr. Meshach Onguti, who specializes in reconstructive surgery and works at a clinic in Nairobi. He and his family are good friends with HEART’s founder and director, so a few of us from HEART joined his family for dinner last week.

In the course of our conversation, Dr. Onguti revealed that he spends much of his time doing surgeries for free. Digging deeper, I learned that he and several other medical professionals have recently formed a team called “Help A Child Face Tomorrow,” traveling to rural hospitals across Kenya to perform free surgeries on clefts and facial deformities.

Since they are based in Kenya, the team is able to follow up on every child they treat – something that bigger international nonprofits are unable to do. They also conduct regular training of local doctors and surgeons in rural areas and attempt to reduce cultural stigma against cleft lips.

The traveling team consists of about 10 individuals: 2-3 surgeons (including Dr. Onguti), 2 anesthesiologists, 2-3 nurses, and several others. They transport all their equipment with them everywhere they go. They receive no compensation for this work, volunteering their time and paying for travel costs out of their own pockets.

Describing how dramatically children’s lives can change post-surgery, Dr. Onguti’s passion for his work was obvious. It beamed from his face. They need more medical supplies and money – if you want to donate, visit www.helpachildfacetomorrow.org (they are still building this site, so it’s in beginning stages) – but it’s clear that the group is making a big impact. Check out one of their before-and-after photos:

At times, Help A Child Face Tomorrow also treats cleft lip and palate in adults. “For adults, the transformation is even more spectacular,” Dr. Onguti told me. “They have been dealing with this for their whole lives.”

This week, I plan to assist in photography and publicity at one of the team’s clinic days in Mombasa, if it works out. Whether in adults or children, clefts are a devastating condition, and surgery can give these people a chance at a normal life. No quirk of fate should have the power to take that away.

Sources: www.smiletrain.org, www.helpachildfacetomorrow.org

Full series of photos on Flickr: Visit to Ol Donyo Nyokie

2011-08-20T14:30:00.001+03:00

Kenya: Visiting Maasai tribe at Ol Donyo Nyokie, a set on Flickr.

Check out all the photos from my trip to the Maasai tribe at Ol Donyo Nyoki here - http://www.flickr.com/photos/laurenseibert

Country of Contrasts - Visiting the Maasai tribe at Ol Donyo Nyokie

2011-08-13T21:17:00.000+03:00

Still processing: hard to believe that in the same day, I visited a tribe in rural Kenya (picture colorful robes and beaded jewelry - brilliant spots of color against the drab scrublands)... and sat at a café using the wi-fi only a few hours later.

And I'm still processing the sight of a Maasai tribal leader welcoming us into his manyatta (tiny homes of mud/clay, sticks and brush)... and then excusing himself to answer his cell phone!

Yesterday a group of us from HEART drove three hours out from Nairobi into the country to visit the Maasai village of Ol Donyo Nyokie, where HEART has helped implement several projects. I spent the whole drive in rapt conversation with Huma Kaseu (HEART's public relations manager) and the McGregors (a family also volunteering with HEART), soaking in all their stories and laughing at cultural differences.

At the same time my wide eyes were absorbing the things rushing past our hurtling vehicle (driven by the intrepid Jackson, who has no fear - if you possess any timidity whatsoever, you better not drive in Nairobi!). We passed an ornate Hindu temple, and then dozens of beautiful homes surrounded in green, set behind stretches of stone wall interrupted by beautiful sections of ironwork. We passed men running, men working, tall thin tropical trees with drippy leaves, the occasional guard carrying a rifle, women selling produce and painted jars and vases, people setting up small tables to sell newspapers and even baskets of candy - and then suddenly slums with corrugated tin roofs crammed up against each other, and people in scruffy clothes sprawled around makeshift fires burning in the middle of a used tire, their collection of belongings piled or scattered nearby. Tiny tin stalls no bigger than a walk-in closet served as stores and shops for every kind of product and service imaginable: electrical items, phone charging, “cafes,” auto parts, and anything else you can think of. Couches and furniture sat out in rows for sale right there on the dirt, at the side of the road. The dichotomy between the clean, colorful fabrics of the couches and the mud beneath them was startling – and the salesmen could be seen sitting on them, making use of their product as they waited for customers. Slums blurred by, then suddenly a nicer shopping center and a KFC – and back to slums.

Then we were leaving Nairobi behind, traveling out into the country and the scrubland. Scanning the landscape with all its sandy shades of brown and tan layering out to the horizon, my eyes felt dusty, thirsty, aching for color.

Tree we passed - you can barely see it though the mist

But then a Maasai child would appear alongside the road, blazing orange and red cloth wrapped over one shoulder, staff in hand, herding cattle or tiny little goats through the bush. Or it would be a group of young men, their clothes a blend of modern and traditional – or a lone elderly woman, her neck and ears dripping with colorful, beaded jewelry.

This visit to Ol Donyo Nyokie helped me understand a bit of the Maasai tribal structure, as Vickie Winkler (HEART’s founder) explained it to me: there is an Assistant Chief, under the Chief, under the Counselor (an elected position), under the District Officer, under the District Commissioner. We were there to deliver food and water to Counselor Jackson and the Lodokilani clan, as well as to visit his manyatta. The Counselor introduced us to his wife (we could call her the Mama), brother, and children, and welcomed us into his home. Sitting on the bed area – a flat section in the closet-sized home covered in cow hide – we found it surprisingly comfortable!

The others asked the Counselor a few questions while I just sat soaking it in – my first time in such a home. I’ve seen photos often enough, but sitting there with the smell of wood and animal hide and smoke around me was quite a bit different. “If you want to come one day to sleep – guest house!” the Counselor told us, laughing, gesturing around at the manyatta.

“You have a beautiful home and a beautiful Mama,” Catherine told him. She was beautiful:

The Counselor's wife inside her manyatta

The Counselor also told us a bit about their lifestyle, including the fact that his home is located 20 kilometers away from any water – really, there is none. Especially during this current drought ripping through East Africa, life is hard for the Maasai. He told us that they now buy their food, instead of hunting like they used to; but they still retain pride in their tribe’s reputation. “We Maasai, we don’t fear animals,” he said. “But no animals here. Maybe some hyena… but hyena, we say, it fear everything.” He also said he now employs people to take care of their animals so that his children can go to school.

Counselor Jackson’s children were lovely… the little ones sat shyly on the rocks, gazing at us with a mix of fearful eyes and big grins (especially when we handed out some chocolate granola bars!). One little one, probably no more than two or three, started crying and waving his hands when Huma came near, telling him in Swahili to “go back, go back to the bus!” Huma cracked up at that one. The older daughters (and the Mama) sold us some beaded jewelry they had made, strung up on display on the branches of a bush.


Passing out granola bars to the kids

Next, we drove down the road a little ways to visit the Chief’s office, currently manned by the Assistant Chief. Today, the tribe had just received a donation of 60 bags of maize and 9 bags of beans – meant to feed 600 Maasai families. As we arrived, we entered a crowd of brilliantly dressed women and children, all waiting in line to receive their portion of the food: one bucket’s worth of maize.

The bags of maize to be distributed to the families

Down the path we visited the tribe’s clinic, built and supplied partially through HEART contributions. A young girl, Evelyn, was introduced to us as one of the managers of the clinic (though they said she had received almost no first aid training).

Evelyn, who works at the clinic

Evelyn's daughter Abigail.

Before entering the clinic, the Assistant Chief showed us a chalkboard they had used for record keeping. It listed things such as how many children had come in to be de-wormed, how many kids had received immunizations, how many mothers had come to the clinic to deliver their babies and how many had delivered with unskilled attendants, and more. You can see the numbers for yourself:

The clinic at Ol Donyo Nyokie

Finally, they showed us the school HEART had helped build, as well as the girl’s dormitory they are in the process of building (so that the girls don’t have to walk such far distances each day to attend class). School is not in session during the month of August, when the children take a month break, but the facility was pretty nice for being out in the middle of nowhere. They could use more supplies – but it’s a start.

We had only visited a few hours, but considering everything we had learned and absorbed, it felt like far longer. On the way home, to complete the afternoon, we drove straight through a herd of cattle. Surrounded by a mooing cacophony, I couldn’t stop laughing. Kenya is a country of contrasts and dichotomies, it seems, retaining its traditions while assimilating certain inevitable parts of modern life – cars, cell phones, internet. Case in point – a member of the tribe in traditional robes, wearing a modern hat, leaning absently against our truck:

Welcoming the Mzungu

2011-08-11T21:44:00.001+03:00

Thick, strange, smoky... the first thing that hit me as I stepped off the plane into Africa was the smell of the air. It washed over my face, heavy and exotic, like smoke and woodfire.

After an excruciating 30-hour journey, I had finally arrived in Nairobi, Kenya! Maybe it was a cultural thing (or maybe it was just because we survived the crazy turbulence), but everyone had started clapping as soon as the plane landed. I've traveled quite a bit - to Europe, Australia, the Bahamas, and around the U.S. - and that's never happened before. But I approve.

Another hour and a half waiting in line for a visa, staring around at the striking variety of cultural backgrounds clustered around me (a flustered British couple... some hippie-looking Americans... a woman in a full-length toab), and I was in the cab heading to the HEART lodge in Ridgeways, Nairobi. Another mzungu (white foreigner!) to add to Nairobi's mix of people - but one with an open mind, open heart, and willingness to help and learn as much as I can while I'm here.

A little background
For the next 30 days, I will be working as an intern for HEART (Health Education Africa Resource Team) here in Nairobi. HEART is a small nonprofit with only a handful of (mainly Kenyan) staff here at the lodge, but it runs programs in slums and villages all over Kenya. Honestly, the extent of their work amazes me.

HEART's mission is "to empower current and future generations of Kenyan people through disease prevention education and economic development." Their work encompasses these main projects:

Women's Empowerment Equality Project (WEEP) - empowers women with HIV/AIDS by providing them with medical care and living support, ultimately training them in a trade (beading, tailoring, etc.) so that they can support themselves and break out of poverty
"Freedom For Girls" Program - provides girls with undergarments, sanitary napkins and hygiene education, enabling them to stay in school during the course of their monthly cycle and not fall behind in their education
Kids For School (KFS) Program - provides female breeding goats and uniforms to orphans and vulnerable children throughout rural Kenya (the goat provides them with added nutrition and income, while the uniforms - which many kids cannot afford - are required to attend school)
Health education and HIV testing - reaches out to villages in rural Kenya with prevention seminars on HIV/AIDS, TB, Malaria, Typhoid, and Hepatitis B; also offers testing for HIV
Medical, surgical & nutrition intervention - helps sponsor surgeries for children who suffer from physical deformities; also provides food staples, vitamins and nutrition information during home visits to AIDS affected families

HEART does other work as well, but I will mainly be involved with the first three programs I listed, especially WEEP - working with HIV positive women and digging into the program's successes and areas needing improvement. Expect lots of stories, both heartbreaking and inspiring.

Impressions so far
Since I've been here, I completed orientation, explored the beautiful HEART lodge (made with wood and stone, set like a jewel in the middle of lush greenery), checked out the Village Market (where I bought some handmade jewelry and laughed at the "Boozy Coffees" option at the cafes), and organized some files of the women involved in WEEP. The briefest glimpses I've had of their stories, handwritten in the paperwork ("before my children didn't even have any clothes... now they have clothes and are attending school") have already snatched at my heart.

Everyone here is so welcoming... eager to ask habari yako (how are you?) and to offer me Kenyan tea and a warm smile. If only the weather matched those sunny smiles! (Rain and chilly air = Kenyans wrapped up in shawls and this mzungu wishing she had one.)

Tomorrow: off to the Maasai village of Ol Donyo Nyokie!

Random thoughts: today's sky was a strange color that shifted between yellow and purple... intern coordinator told me some stories about female and male circumcision in the villages (will write a separate article on this)... need to pick up some Kenyan newspapers... rode in cabs over winding roads past kids trudging to school, elegant houses behind stone walls, workers digging pits or carrying woven baskets, small vendors selling produce, past the U.S. Embassy which was bombed several years ago... told to keep the car windows up to avoid bag snatching - "Nairobbery" so they say!)