Tragedy of loneliness

This is the state in which the staff of the feeding center met the girls: next to a 2 x 2 m mud hut, the two younger girls preparing something to eat in the wood-fire, the older one collecting water to supply the family. The family: the three girls -none over 5 years old- and the almost blind grandma.

Let me warn you, none of my words collected here will be able to approach you to such a powerful story. What we saw when we entered the house was a neat place, with an old gentle woman sitting in an armchair, her sight lost in the distance, her hands soft and lovingly holding ours while welcoming us. Two of the girls in a line behind the armchair, silent and shyly smiley. The smaller one sat very fondly on her grandma's lap. One could breath some sort of calmness in the house, it may have been their strength making reality seem light and slow.

Mama R, the grandma, could not tell us her age, maybe forgotten, maybe never counted. It had already been two years since her eyes stopped watching the Kenyan landscapes, her grandchildren growing. Her arms were also soft and wrinkled, her body small and stooped. The girls used to take her for a walk during the day to feel the sun... the air; they gave her love and cared for the house. When we were about to leave to the feeding centre, they started taking their belongings inside to avoid them being taken while being away. They do the washing, collect wood, collect water... No one forces them in the morning when they go to school to learn English, Kiswahili, maths... and still they love it! At school they are also taught traditional songs and dances, which they showed to us at the centre in big smiles and jumps.

Orphan of dad, their mum run away and left her kids behind with their grandmother, who is unable to provide them with any food or care. The feeding center supplies the kids with breakfast and lunch; as basic as it sounds, it ensures that the kids have an effective education, attending to school over an empty stomach is not of much use. In the case of the girls, the staff keep small amounts of food for them to give Mama R at night -this is generally her only intake during the day, which she shares with her grandchildren when they come back. The house in which they live now -typical Kenyan with walls made of mud, and in this case a corrugated iron roof- was newly built by some volunteers who were horrified by how they were surviving. Mama R was also given a radio which she enjoys in the lonely hot days.

The situation of the family seems like a tragedy to our western eyes, however orphanage in Kenya is very common and we would ask them about it in an open way. This does not mean that the kids do not suffer of lack of love, attention, healthcare, food... the situation is tough and we all came back with our heart broken and a sensation of emptiness in our stomachs. Children grow up fast in Kenya, they run the fields, find their way out... and sometimes also cry. Giving an opportunity for them to get educated healthily, is a vital first step in their lives. One would never think a plate of food could make such a difference... In the case of Mama R's grandchildren and many other kids in the feeding centre, it fills stomachs, prepares brains to learn, provides a community for them to belong to, puts big smiles in their faces...

Nens que són

Trista soledat d'ànimes

que aixafa somriures, amb vides

que volen, que volen voldre

que estimen, que sovint senten.

Somnis de terra que empolsen

els peus i els somnis

els ulls, els somnis

les mans de pols que ara sentent.

Somriures lluixen 

les mans polsoses 

que toquen, que vols 

que lluixen com dents. 

Les pedres sota el sol 

crema, rega les pells 

de suor, dels bells 

nens que estimen, que són. 

Feeding for education

Being concentrated over an empty stomach is an impossible task for everyone, and kids are not any better at this. We travelled a long way to find the rural area where we have been helping during this week; the main tasks of the project we joined are the support of orphan and vulnerable children through a feeding program while developing a sustainable production of food that could cover the needs of the feeding centre.

The village is very poor, small simple houses made of clay and mud are scattered over a big area in between the corn fields -or the empty fields. Then you find the school and the feeding centre. Currently, teachers over the whole Kenya are on strike and kids are left during the day either to play or to work, what means that we get more time to spend with them during the day. All of them totally love going to school and are very happy to be able to go with a full stomach. 

The first round of kids that came to the centre ranged from as little as 1.5 -teeny tiny kid- to about 15 years old. They were all shy, wearing none or worn out clothes, broken shoes or simply bare feet. It was very sweet to welcome them with "Jambo, koro idhinade" (hello, how are you?) and receiving a shy "adhi maber" (I am fine!). We knew they were all very excited about having visitors, and how they have been expecting us for very long.

At about 1pm the hand washing starts and a long queue is formed; we teach them how to wash all the dirt and happy they go to get their food: some ugali (sort of a corn polenta), cabbage, chapati (wheat flour savoury pancakes), eggs, sukuma (type of kale) and maybe some meat or fish. Even the smallest one finishes his/her portion, which are all of the same size. These kids do not have a dinner guaranteed, and most just pray for the next morning to come and have their breakfast also at the feeding centre. There is never a single thing left on their plates…

Since the first day we felt part of the feeding centre and helped in anything we could during the day. Let it be preparing the food -some examples are in the pictures at the kitchen and also getting the rice clean for boiling it- cleaning the animals area or giving a hand watering the crops.

One thing we have had to learn is that even though the level of poverty is overwhelming, the smallest thing counts and does make a big difference in children's lives.

Let me again finish with a lovely family picture we took with all the kids and the staff of the centre.

Matatu, tuk tuk, bora bora (and hand gels)

These are the three cute words that Kenyans use to designate their three, not so sophisticated, main ways of transport. One soon finds out that having a car in Kenya is very rare and people travel mainly paying for this service -which is (relatively) cheap.

A matatu is a minibus, generally with loud music and potentially a bright neon for night decoration! Contains a few jammed seats and is as robust as one couldn't ever imagine. These vehicles travel the roads happily, shake like crazy when tackling with the impressive bumps and do not tilt when jumping the big steps of the broken -heart breaking- Kenyan roads. 

They can also hold any sort of luggage in the non-prepared roof if only you own a couple of ropes. Where at the UK one gets nuts about health and safety, these people go for simple and practical engineering solutions... that do work. Matatus may be for public or private transport, but they are always up for hire for very little money (possibly starting with 500KSH) if you just do a bit of negotiation.

A tuk tuk is a tiny vehicle with three wheels and a cover to protect those who hire it -normally it should be three, but where three fit, one may as well fit 7! I cannot comment on the music here, but I would expect the Kenyans not to let us down with music. They seem to love their music in their vehicles! A tuk tuk can be hired for as little as 100KSH.

The bora bora is the cutest of all. A bike with a cushion in the back for transporting people. Seriously, the space may not be underestimated, I have seen entire families in a bora bora! Given that they allow to make some business, bikes here are rather expensive. I was told a brand new bike may cost approx. 10000KSH, which for Kenyan salaries is a lot! Jumping on one of those to get you to the side of the town isn't as expensive though, and one can simply pay 20KSH for a campy ride!

We arrived to Kisumu on Sunday evening after about 7h of trip in bumpy roads. The trip was long and we all had to take naps to feel it shorter. It was such a rich experience for our eyes!  The views of the Kenyan fields and population left in me a sweet and sour feeling. Kenya is like a big field of corn, beautiful skylines of bright green and yellow leaves, decorated sometimes with a topping pink little brush of flowers. It is also earthy red and dark brown, and everything is coloured that way; the potatoes that come from the field, the skin of the people who start and end their lives stepping on the same hot ground. The colours are something that I will always remember. I will also remember the strong earth smell when it rains. These are some of the things with a sweet background.

The sour ones come in general from the poor life quality and desperation that you can read in people's faces -when you dear looking straight at them. As we drove for hours and hours, I found that the space in Kenya isn't even properly allocated/functionally split or anything similar. At the same place you may find a cow resting, a person sitting, a stall selling tomatoes/pottery/plants, a machine fixing something… Selling in market stalls is too expensive for most of the people, therefore street selling is very common and every now and then there is a market set on the side of the road. The goods are generally things that people pick up for very cheap from the fields: corn, tomatoes, onions, passion fruits, oranges, potatoes, cabbages… The arrangement of those I found very cute: whenever they pile 2 or 3 in a row of ones to top it up, this means the bucket/pile has a set price and is sold as a pack. For many of the people sitting at their stalls, shelling peas or chopping cabbage, I would not be surprised that just sell nothing during the whole day. 

Other than those at the stalls, there is many people who run desperately behind the vehicles that go slow enough to sell their goods for almost nothing -their desperation is real sad. Women carry heavy buckets on their heads and many groups of kids simply walk to what seems to be nowhere or lie on the side of the road letting the sun and dust bathe their faces. It seems that life has a different pace here, as if there was no need to rush. Only cars go fast here.

I have talked about the matatu, tuk tuk and bora bora. So what about the hand gel? One of the first things in Kisumu was to actually start knowing the city that would welcome us for two weeks. Even though it is the third biggest city in Kenya, one could say that only a high street and a big market defines its limits. Markets are always great experiences for me. How can you know a culture if you don't see what and where they buy their things, what they eat…? They are also a very good social experience. In the markets here vintage shoes are cheap, and mostly what people buy -as they will not afford brand new ones. There are also many (mainly) men at the street repairing and cleaning shoes! The food here is just local or imported from somewhere in Kenya; which is great and ensures that products are actually picked when they are mature and are potentially of better quality, but also helping strengthening -up to a certain level- the local economy. 

When it comes to fish, it also travels very little (mainly from lake Victoria) and you may get it fresh -fished on the day- or deep fried. Even though they look fleshy and happy, the quantity of flies that can be around do not generally make them too trustworthy… I had the opportunity to take a picture of a very smiley fish monger, she was very friendly (as most of the people here) and loved that I included her in the picture, and not just the fish!

People were most intrigued about our group -a fresh young combination of oriental faces, white europeans and darker Indian people- and kept asking lots of questions to our Kenyan minder! At this point, one of the fish mongers also wanted our hand gel, and how could I say no? Of course I donated it to her, with some guidelines to use it after her work with fish. Not that it will work on its own, but she was still so happy, and we couldn't help it to be happy too thinking a little gesture can sometimes make big things.

I want to finish again with a group picture that we took at the market on request of one of the Kenyans who also appear here.

On arrival...

This is how we were received by the beautiful country, an enormous cloud of humid and hot dust. At the airport, a (still) smiley Kenyan young man was showing a wrinkled sheet of paper stating:

CECILIA

11 PAX

This was for our team, after about one hour of waiting for us, for our flight had changed times! We had also (very sadly) missed a member of the team, our hunter Henry Chang (we miss you here Henry...).
We started our trip walking to our first "matatu" and very skilfully entering our luggage through the window!

We soon discovered that traffic in Nairobi is ridiculous. Traffic jams seem to happen all the time, even though we had never seen as many people walking everywhere!

The scenery was very cute, with people setting a stall at any random corner and selling almost anything. But also people resting on the floor, people walking with big steps and decision, deformed people begging, kids going to school saying hi to us...

After being set at the campsite, napping for a bit, and rubbing some adequate suncream, we got ourselves out to the Nairobi adventure. We thought we were simply finding a good Ethiopean restaurant, walking distance, for a quick lunch. On the other hand, we received misleading directions that drove us into the interesting experience of public transport in Kenya. For some reason, Kenyan people believe you can get any bus going any direction and it'll take you to Yaya centre (this is a shopping mall). So we proved luck and jumped on the first bus that came at the other side of the road - this was risky risky, I think I haven't yet seen a traffic light here!

Just about we made our way into the bus, jammed as one could never imagine, with a virtual corridor full of flesh of those who couldn't really fit their legs in the tiny seats! No bus stops, no bus numbers, no tickets to buy... 20KSH is what we paid for the journey (this is below 20p!) and this is how some of the team looked...

On their behalf I shall say that the music in the bus was cool and that we actually made it to Yaya!

After giving up with the Ethiopean place, filling our stomachs with food, our phones with SIM cards and our bags with water; we went to the Animal Orphanage. We fed a giraffe, saw monkeys fighting, and learnt some Swahili. See what you can guess from here: simba, impala, duma, fisi, asante...

On the way back we finally made to the Ethiopean, where we ate incredible amounts of food with our hands in what seemed like a family dinner! We were well defeated by food, never underestimate how filling those ethiopean pancakes can be... I want to finish this entry with an image of the team, which has been great on the first (very tiring) day :)