Kenya: Kajaido Boarding School

On the way to Amboseli, we visit the A.I.C. Kajaido Boarding School. The African Inland church started the school in 1959 with 20 girls. In 1964, after Kenya independence, the school was turned over to the government. It tries to address cultural problems. The biggest issue is that at around the age of 13, girls are subject to genital mutilation. The school is trying to help and educate girls who have run away to escape forced child marriages and genital mutilation, or who have faced other situations such as being raped, or being orphaned due to AIDS, or having physical disbilities. 90% of the girls are Maasai.

The school philosophy is that if they educate the girls, they educate a nation. They also function as a rescue center, so girls who know their families have plans to ‘circumcise’ them, can have a place to run to. They have an award winning music program, and a drama program to encourage them to communicate.

They teach English, Kiswahili, Science, Mathematics, and social studies. Some of the girls go on to high school and college. They need sponsors to pay for the higher education. “God always opens a door for us” the teacher says gratefully. The first grade could have children ranging from 6-16, depending on when they started their schooling. Some children need to walk 10k to get to school, so they need to be old enough to walk that far.

Ellen asked who takes care of the children after school. The answer was that a matron and dispensary are available for medical care. Clearly they weren’t thinking of the kind of childcare we are used to.

A sixth grade class sings for us. “I’m happy today so happy, in Jesus’ name I’m happy, because he has taken away my sins.” A couple of girls recite poems. They are eloquent, with intense voices and dramatic hand gestures. They are in the ‘speak-out’ drama club. The school motto is “determination and dedication to excellence.”

Although it is Sunday, they show us to a schoolroom to talk to some of the children. I chat with Tabitha, who asks how old I am, and when I ask her to guess politely suggests ’20?’ We have been warned not to ask the girls specifics about their background, since so many are victims of abuse of one sort or another, so I try to ask something more neutral. “How long have you been coming to school?” “A LOOONG TIME” she replies, “20 weeks”. She is 12. Her favorite subjects are science and match.

Then we are shown the dormitory – a long room with a row of bunks on each side. Each pair of bunks are abutted next to each other, and 2 girls share each bed, so in every 8’ by 6’ slot 8 girls are expected to sleep. It is abundantly clear why they need a new dormitory! If this were a prison, the inmates would sue for more space. Grand Circle (the parent company of OAT) is collecting money to build a dormitory. Many of us are glad to chip in.

The children are all in uniforms, which seems standard practice in Kenya. Most of the children are Christian, but they have a handful of Muslims. As we leave the school, we pass a mosque, which our trip leader explains is for the Somalian refugees in the neighborhood. He said that while the Maaasai who interact with the outer world often become Christian, they rarely become Muslim. In his words, they do not join ‘Islamology’.

Now back into the vans for the trip to Amboseli. My backside now understands why the inflatable seat cushions were recommended, although it is probably good that I don’t realize it will get worse later! After a long day’s drive, I’m wondering why we bother to keep switching camps, but as we approach Amboseli, it is immediately apparent that we will see different varieties of animals. I guess that was supposed to be obvious, but as a safari novice, I didn’t really grasp it until now. We pass a gerenuk hidden in the bush, as well as an elephant, spotted hyena, ostrich, yellow baboon, zebra, Thompson’s gazelle, and wildebeest. Due to the drought, the lake is dry, and we are able to drive straight across. The rutted path across the lake is actually smoother than the road was, but it surely is dusty. I finally realize that this is what those buff kerchiefs are for. This is a great solution. I pull one over my head, then slide it back over my hair, and tuck the back ends in at the nape of my neck. I don’t care if it looks silly, it saves my hair from that amazing phenomenon where dust and wind together create instant dreadlocks.

I had made the mistake of saving one of those little bananas from our boxed lunch. It was in the pocket of my cargo pants, and when I stood up in the van to spy the gerenuk, I didn’t realize I was mashing the banana until the pulp seeped thru the pocket, creating a wet slime. I asked our trip leader what to do with the crushed banana, and his only idea was to hold it in my hand for the next 22 kilometers. That did not sound like a plan to me, so I emptied out some toiletries from a baggie in my carry-on, and used that as a garbage bag.

We’re tired and dirty when we arrive at the Amboseli Serena. They greet us with welcome wet towels and passion fruit juice.

We can tell we are in mosquito country – even just in the lobby we are being attacked. No one has any repellent on, since it wasn’t a problem before. I wish we could just move on to our rooms, but the registration process is taking some time. I’ve got my carryon, my daybag, my camera and binoculars, and I’m trying to slather on bug repellent, and just don’t have enough hands, but once I’m sticky with the repellent I don’t want to mess up my camera by even trying to put it away. Finally we’re given our keys and our room steward carries our duffles and leads us to our room. It is attractive and luxurious, only slightly marred by the black millipedes sprinkled all over the floor. Idelle steps on one and it crunches underfoot and breaks in half. The front half keeps slithering onward. The beds are shrouded in mosquito netting, which is white so it looks romantic rather than utilitarian. There are so many light switches we can’t figure them out. It is appealing to be back in the land of full-fledged electricity, after the 11 watt bulbs at Sweetwater’s -- that's not hyperbole, they actually were 11 watts!

I don’t want to inadvertently research what kind of bugs are attracted by banana pulp, so I pull off my pants as soon as I’m in my room, so I can send them to the laundry. My roommate puts me on banana restriction. From now on when we get a boxed lunch and I’m tempted to save the banana she just gives me a look. Thanks to her watchful eye, I don’t end up with any more laundry emergencies. It is working so well rooming together. I think it actually helps that we don’t know each other, because we don’t have any ‘hot buttons’ to push.

Dinner at the Amboseli Serena was the best meal in Africa so far. I had a light cream of pea soup and a small steak. Dennis tells a funny story about the school. He asked a girl to read something for him, and she reads from the Bible, Romans 8:8. Then he asked her if she understood and she said not really, so he ended up having to try to explain it. While he doesn’t claim to be a believer, it sounds like his explanation was pretty good. He said that if another girl took something from her and she hurt her instead of forgiving her, it would not please God.

The lodge employs Maasai as monkey chasers. They stand with sticks, and watch, and chase off the monkeys when they try to climb on the outside tables, or run into the dining room.

Kenya: Sweetwaters

After breakfast we check out of the Stanley Hotel in Nairobi, and embark in the minibus with the roof hatch that we will use for the rest of our stay in Kenya.

In every neighborhood, from the slums to the exclusive 'Karen' suburbs, we see churches: Lutheran, Pentacostal, Baptist, Anglican, Catholic, Deliverance, Dominican Friars, Coptic, Full Gospel, 7th Day Adventist, Assembly of God, and more. Each of these churches is the fruit of a believer who left everything to follow the call of God, and share the Gospel with this nation. I'm humbled as I realize the difference between my luxury safari, and the deprivations they must have suffered.

After we pass the suburbs we get into farmland. We pass the Del Monte pineapple farm – the 3rd largest in the world. And we also pass small farms with people working in the fields, bending from the waist. Backbreaking work on papyrus, coffee plantations, bananas, charcoal, papaya, and tea. We have our first sight of what will be common: people riding bicycles by the side of the road, often carrying huge loads. It is hilly enough that they have to dismount and push on the ascents. Sometimes the loads are so big they can’t ride at all. I find myself wondering why they don’t get a cart instead – they’d still have to pull it, but at least they wouldn’t have to hold it up. Everything is being done by human power, usually without even the help of animals.

On the highway we are stopped frequently by roadblocks – heavy duty spikes on the road. Sometimes we are just waved on, and sometimes they examine all the paperwork of the vehicle and the driver. It’s all pretty low keyed and quick, nevertheless.

In addition to the people with bikes, we also see people carrying odd loads – sometimes bulky bundles, and once we see two guys actually carrying what looks like the hood of a big truck. I don’t think I could even lift it, and I wonder where they are taking it, and why the truck can’t carry its own hood. On a totally undistinguished road we cross the equator. I was dozing, and the guide points it out, and I’m not sure where to look – I think I was expecting a big stripe on the ground. Luckily, on the way back we have a channce to stop and get out. I keep expecting to feel different somehow, to notice something, but there is only the sign.

On the road in to the Sweetwaters Tented Camp, we see our first game. I was so excited to see a zebra – I didn’t know or care that they are seen all over the place, I was thrilled. We also saw defassa waterbuck, grants gazelles, olive baboons, and reticulated giraffe. We arrive at Sweetwaters, and are greeted with warm damp towels and fresh juice – I had one called tree tomato. It was kind of odd but not unpleasant – tart, thick, and mildly sweet.
Porters carry our duffels to our tent. Esther carries my room-mate's and mine – 2 duffels at once. I feel bad because I’m not used to women carrying loads like that. I feel stupid walking behind her while she carries the bags. Finally I say to her “you must be very strong”. She stopped to face me, and was proud to answer: “African women are VERY STRONG!” Her nose was beaded with sweat, and she was breathing heavily, but she was confident and proud and strong! Can you imagine the sob story you would likely get from an American women in that situation? When I saw the women working in the fields I was glad I was not an African woman, and when I saw Esther carrying the bags I was really glad (and there were other occasions later on that made me gladder still!). But I could really learn from her positive attitude.

Lunch was nice – a buffet with an amazing view across the savannah. While eating we watch zebras, warthogs, and some impala. We also see a ‘superb warbler’ – iridescent blue with shades of green or purple depending on the light. I’m fascinated by the beautiful bird, and don’t realize that it is very common – we will see it again and again wherever we go. On the way to and from our tents we see marabou stork, rock hyrax, and guinea fowl.

After lunch we go to a ‘cultural village’ where 3 tribes live together: Turcana, Samburu, Pocat. (I’m not sure how you spell them). One of the men acted as our guide and interpreter. He had been educated by a missionary school, and spoke English quite well. There are 3 kinds of huts, different for each tribe. They are pastoral – they have to pick up and move when the drought is too bad. First we see the children sitting in the dirt. A woman is there with her baby and is asking the medicine man for a consultation. Apparently he decides the baby is ok. I can’t figure out if the ‘appointment’ is staged for our benefit or not. We also saw a warrior, who had 3 scars on his shoulder indicating that he had killed a hippo. If he had killed lion it would be 4 lines of scars. The men have both decorative scars and also medicinal scars, inflicted by the witchdoctor.

Each tribe also danced for us, different dances for the different tribes. The men of the second tribe are playing a game together, but are not joined by the other tribes. The children, however, play all together. This strikes me as a sad worldwide principle – children start out accepting each other, but then segregate themselves when they become grownups. In this case, there is clearly respect and cooperation between the tribes, but the fact that they don’t play together still struck me. It also struck me that we do not see any games that women play.

We visited inside each type of hut. The huts are dark, lit only by a tiny hole serving as a window. There is no furniture, and almost no belongings. For the second two tribes, the husband and wife don’t share a bed, but have separate sleeping platforms. I didn’t quite understand the explanation, it had something to do with the warrior not wanting the smell of children on him, which could attract wild animals – or something like that. In the third hut we are invited to note how smooth the mud on the walls is. The wife works hard on this, to keep her husband interested, otherwise he might move on to another of his wives. Meanwhile, the elaborate beaded necklaces on the wall are a sign that the wife is in residence. It sounds sort of like the flag flying over Buckingham palace to indicate that the Queen is there. If the wife returns to her parents, they will know the difference between a visit and a domestic upheaval by whether she brings all her necklaces with her.

On the way to the village we saw game all around: buffalo, giraffes, impala, grant gazelles, zebra, warthogs, and waterbuck. At one point, the giraffe necks undulating in front of the trees look like something out of Jurassic park – but giraffes are exotic enough, I don’t need dinosaurs!

The night game drive starts slowly at first, just some African hares and some zebra. It picks up a little interest with some cape buffalo – truly ominous looking in the dark. And suddenly a lion! No, it is two lions, no, it is three. What are they looking at? I’m transfixed – my first lions! They are standing, they are walking. No! They are stalking a white rhino. The lions separate and approach from different directions. The rhino is unaware at first. Just as he senses them, we realize there are a 4th and 5th lion approaching from behind. The circle tightens and we barely breathe. The rhino slowly backs up – we’re afraid he will actually back into one of the lions behind him, which he doesn’t seem to have noticed yet. The circle draws tighter and he backs some more. Suddenly the table is turned -- the rhino has had enough and trots forward at one of the lions, who turns tail and bounds away. The intricate dance continues back and forth, but we are not sure who is choreographing it, the lions or the rhino. Eventually we realize that the rhino is less worried than we are, as he lowers his head and starts to eat, not even deigning to pay attention any more. Meanwhile, the lions appear oblivious to easier prey – a Grants gazelle less than 50 yards away, on the other side of a small hill.

We return to camp still thrilled with the dance of the lions and the rhino. My bed is peculiarly hard, but I don’t care, I’m just happy to be here. And even happier when I notice a wonderful surprise: someone has put a hot water bottle in my bed! I’m very chilly after the night game drive, and I’m grateful both for my silk long johns and the hot water bottle.

The following day, we visit the chimpanzee sanctuary with game drives on the way there and back. The sanctuary is protected by an electric fence. One of the chimps runs back and forth in front of us, whacking the fence hard with a stick. Apparently, they’ve learned not to touch the electric wires, and instead they use the stick since it does not conduct electricity. That’s way more knowledge of physics than I expected a chimp to have!

Suddenly we hear a great commotion – screeching and chattering. The ranger urgently shooed us back to the van – ‘hurry! Hurry!’ What is going on? The chimp Paco is loose. The rangers run into the bush calling his name. Meanwhile our own little drama was unfolding at the van, as Stephen, our driver, couldn’t find his keys. Good to know we’re not the only ones who get flustered, LOL. Stephen finally found the keys (they were in his pocket after all), so we continued on a short game drive, where we see olive baboons, reticulated giraffe, defassa waterbuck, impala, sacred Ibis, saddle billed stork, grey heron, grants gazelle, Thompson gazelle, impala, and a distant hartebeest. We ask Stephen why the one impala is chasing the other and he tries to be delicate: “I think she has a headache.”. We’re disappointed that Mt Kenya is still shrouded in the clouds. I’m going to have to settle for a picture of a giraffe by the shoulder of the mountain instead of the classic pose.

We visit a Spinning and Weaving factory, founded by the USA Presbyterian church. 107 women now work there. It supports them and their children. Primary school is free in Kenya, but secondary school you have to pay for. We watch them spinning and weaving by hand, and many in our group buy rugs. They are relatively small, but I still can’t figure out how they will fit them into their duffles. The woman who shows us around the factory is an excellent guide. Her accent is funny, but she is a great presenter. For some reason, she has trouble with the letter ‘W’, so it takes us a while to catch on to what ‘ool is. She keeps stressing that the ‘ool is washed in Ivory Soap, until it is pure white. White, it turns out, is a relative term.

Lunch was another buffet. I kept jumping up from my seat to take pictures of the giraffes at the water hole. We also see an oryx. After lunch I have a shower. It was waaaaaaaay too cold to take one this morning (although my brave roommate did). And now I’m sitting on the patio in front of the tent watching the giraffes. One has especially dark and defined markings. Beautiful!

We visit a rescued black rhino. Close up, he is even bigger than I expect. He is semi-tame, so we are told we can take pictures with him (while the sign warns we do it at our own risk). We are told to promptly move out of the way if he starts to move! On the way back to camp we see some black-backed jackals and hartebeest, but still no elephants (which are a favorite of my roommate, so we are on the lookout). We also see some oryx, with those peculiarly straight horns. Then dinner and bed. Hurrah for the hot water bottle!

Nairobi: beads, giraffes, slums, movies

After the end of the long flight, I arrived in Nairobi, and made my way through getting my Kenya visa, collecting baggage and customs & immigration, all very easy and smooth. Even before my luggage showed up, I saw our guide outside, holding the OAT sign. I felt like a little kid who was reassured they were going to be picked up after all! And right next to him was someone holding a World Vision sign. That interested me because I’ve been a World vision donor for years, and one always likes actual confirmation that there is more going on than a glossy brochure with pictures of starving children. As it turns out, I saw World Vision all over the place, so at least now I’m confident that they are really on the scene.

After a good night's sleep, we have breakfast and go for a walk in the city, then return to the hotel for lunch. After lunch we set out for the giraffe sanctuary, the bead factory, and the Karen Blixen house, but we pass the Kibera slums on the way.

This is heartbreaking and inconceivable. 700,000 people living in shacks side by side, with almost no electricity or plumbing. We’re told that many of the people are refugees from Sudan. I can’t help thinking of something I heard a World Vision representative say. When a community has no functional infrastructure, sometimes it takes outside resources to provide enough hope for the village to then help itself. One glance at these slums makes that evident. How can an individual who grows up in the middle of this even have a vision for change, if his entire world is encompassed by the slum?

The shacks lining the street are actually shops, selling clothes, bananas, soccer balls, corn, hardware, eggs, shoes. Raw sewage seeps in a ditch by the road. Interspersed with the shops are medical clinics, a Montessori nursery school, and numerous hair salons. We see ads selling everything under the sun, and a bravely hopeful school motto: “hard work pays”.

After passing the slum, we arrive at the Kizuri Bead factory. Kizuri means small and beautiful. The factory was started to provide work for single mothers. We see women forming the clay, glazing it, and placing the beads in kilns, after which they are strung into necklaces. . Then (of course!) they are for sale. It’s not really a style I normally wear, but I buy one just to support the factory. As the clerk is processing my order, another woman behind the counter asks her something in Swahili. ‘Mojo tu’ she replies. I think I can figure out what she said – ‘only one’. Oh well. But it's a great example of outside resources starting something that helps people help themselves.

Then on to the Giraffe Center, where we feed the giraffes. Just for my friend April, I feed a giraffe from my mouth to get a picture of me ‘kissing’ the giraffe. I wasn't going to post the picture, since it looks so bizarre, but my friends are already trying to blackmail me with it, so I might as well let you enjoy it too.

The ranger keeps insisting that the saliva is ‘very antiseptic’, but I’m glad that ‘my’ giraffe is so delicate I don’t even feel him take the pellet. Some of the guys get totally slimed, with strings of elastic saliva shooting out with eager abandon.

Africa- how an idea became a trip

Africa! The very name sounds exotic, doesn't it? As a child, it reminded me of Tarzan. In High School, I worried about starving children in Ethiopia. In college, as a new believer, I was afraid that God would send me to eat bugs in Africa. So when I found out that people also visit Africa for fun, it took years for me to get used to the idea.

More recently, as an adult, I gradually became aware of the AIDS crisis, which finally led me to sponsor a child in Uganda. Halfway around the world, there is a little girl who is now very important to me. And I'm humbled to say that I am now important to her, too. Suddenly, my vague interest in going on safari someday, merged with a new focus. I felt a need to visit Africa, so see the land, to meet the people, and to understand a little bit about the challenges facing the region. Uganda is not really a good tourist option right now, so I started looking at nearby options, and found a trip to Kenya and Tanzania. It was purely a pleasure trip, and yet it changed me, as travel so often does. Seeing people who live such different lives, reminds me that God created more than the suburbs! Visiting a land where the very climate is different, reminds me that even things I think are eternal and inevitable, like the march of the seasons, are different elsewhere. Gazing at the immense variety of wildlife reminds me of the magnificent creativity of God, although I have to admit that when I look at a wildebeest, I wonder what God was really thinking. It sort of looks as if he was only practicing.

My next several blogs will simply share my journal from my trip.
p.s. The photo is of a baobab tree in Tarangire.