So many of my friends warned me "don't get Ebola" before I left for Kenya. It almost became a joke. I always assured them that it was in west Africa and we were going to east Africa. I took the threat seriously, the stories on the news were so sad. but honestly no part of me was at all concerned, My brain just didn't let it be a real possibility. Today the reality of the threat hit Kira and I when we were watching a news anchor covering the recent developments in the Ebola situation. They showed all the big scary facts: "one of the deadliest diseases in the world", "no cure", "90% death rate". And they showed clips of fully protected workers screening incoming travelers at the Nairobi airport that we had flown into only weeks before. They explained how Kenya is a stage 2 country because of the high threat and imminent risk of Ebola outbreak. Stage 1 are countries with the Ebola epidemic and stage 3 are countries without high concern for contamination.
Watching this really drove the reality of the situation home. It's terrifying in one sense, but the country is taking every precaution to avoid exposure. Chances are it won't even happen while were here. And if it does come technically our safety is compromised and we would have to leave. The US embassy will alert us, we will have to move our flight up and leave before the risk of infection grows.
A week ago we would have been really sad to leave, but we would've been able to get over it and be okay if not slightly happy with going home early ...But now I can't imagine leaving, it would feel 110% wrong for us to swoop out, while everyone we love here is left to pray they do not get infected.
Pondering over the possibilities has given us an incredible view into how volunteers have felt in many situations where they have been evacuated because their safety is seemingly more important then the natives. It brings into perspective things like when the volunteers had to leave Rwanda during the genocide.
It's been a real paradigm shift for me, I feel how difficult these situations are on a visceral level. It has shed light on the uncanny amount of bravery it takes to be selfles.. The strange dichotomy between self preservation and not holding your safety and value above others.. And on a less cosmic scale, it's shown how exceedingly grateful and happy we are to be here; we are settled and doing work that feels useful. We knew we were content here, but having to be aware of the real possibility of leaving early has helped us truly grasp how entirely we want to be here and helped us remember to soak in each day as much as humanly possible.
I don't know why or how it took us two days to look out the window in our room. But both of us at separate times pulled the curtain aside and stared dumbfounded at the gorgeous view. We were feeling a bit low and realizing we were in the middle of this beautiful African countryside lifted our spirits. Not sure what we were expecting, but it sure wasn't this.
Well, we’ve made it through a week. It already seems like we’ve been here for a long time, and I get that feeling of about almost being home every time we drive up the road towards Ogembo and first see the clustered buildings and the busy marketplace.
Yesterday we attended our first church service at the New Church in Etora. The whole thing was about 3 hours long and the service was in both English and Swahili (which we later found out was so that we would be sure to feel included in their congregation). There was singing from groups of the kids and lots of hymns, which were surprisingly easy to catch on to, despite them all being in Swahili. Samson introduced us at the end of the service and had the whole church laughing describing our trip back to Ogembo from the Kisumu airport on our first night here. The community is clearly very closely bonded, and we felt very welcomed in, especially as every single person FIRMLY shook our hand on the way out the door.
Today was our first day working at the school. It was exciting to wake up knowing that things were going to start moving forward, and we were going to get the chance to start the work we came here to do. Having the week off to rest and get used to being here was definitely needed and appreciated, but it feels so good to dive into our to-do list.
We got to the school around 10, after our morning tea and the short, bumpy ride in the tireless blue van. The red brick classrooms were full of eager eyed students, and we could hear their lessons as we arrived. After a short conversation with Rev. Samson about the list of work we have to do for HCIC, Cailin and I set up in the church to start our work.
The main purpose of our trip is do work that will help HCIC (Helping Children in Crisis) continue to provide and support the Sacred Care Orphanage, which is run by Rev. Samson. The task list is long, but we have a long time to accomplish everything, and it feels like a challenging, yet do-able job. Throughout the course of the day I was going back and forth between feeling like we will never get everything done, and not having enough work to do, which probably means its going to be just about right.
Our work is divided into 3 main categories. The most important one is working with the children. HCIC has been collecting information on each child so that they can communicate with sponsors and keep records of all the children who are at the orphanage. We are completing these information sheets, filling in the holes and trying to help create an accurate picture of each of these amazing children. This also included taking photos and videos to be able to communicate and show what daily life is like so that we can present a well-rounded picture of the work that HCIC and the Sacred Care Orphanage is doing. This also includes our own interaction with the kids, which is by far the most fun and definitely the part I’m most looking forward to. We are all still a bit shy around each other, but the timid waves and bright smiles peering out from behind doorways and window frames puts a smile on my face every time.
We are also going to be spending time working on helping HCIC and the orphanage put together an exit plan. They have several high school students, and a few orphans that have already graduated, and a system needs to be in place to sustainably and realistically be able to continue support so that the kids can have the means they need to excel and succeed after they turn 18.
Another piece of our work is communicating our experiences and the incredible work that is being done here to everyone back home. There are still children without sponsors, and one of our goals is to get at least 8 sponsorships, if not all. We will be giving presentations and talks about our trip, and our hope is to be able to share the amazing stories and the strength of both the children themselves and the people who tirelessly and happily work to better the lives of these children.
We started on this list of tasks today by interviewing the high school kids. They are on break for the next month, so it was easy for us to gather them up and talk to them one at a time. They were shy and sweet, and it was good challenge in communication. Most of them have pretty good English, but combine that with talking about your hopes and dreams with two strangers from America and it was not surprising that they were sometimes timid, I was actually feeling a bit nervous for them. There were a few clear themes that I noticed, which said a lot about the values they have been taught. Education was a top priority. We had to start asking for something that made them happy outside of school, after getting the answer “passing my exams” every time. Each one had high hopes for getting to go to university, becoming a doctor to help people who are suffering, a lawyer to help those who are unequally represented, or a teacher to help other people learn. They all had sincere messages of thanks to their sponsors for their support and for the opportunities they were getting because of it. Reading the backstories full of violence and poverty and abuse, and then meeting the loving, compassionate, smiling people who have emerged on the other end was inspiring and powerful, and was a good reminder how much of a difference a couple of open hearted people who are willing to care for others can make.
I’m looking forward to a week of growth and of learning, and hopefully plenty of clapping games. I only hope that this work will benefit the lives of these kids at least half of how I know it will benefit me. Being around such incredible hard working, compassionate, loving people has already taught and inspired me so much, and my admiration for the strength of this community is growing every day.
I don’t know if I have ever looked forward to meeting anyone more then I had looked forward to meeting the kids from the Sacred Care Orphanage. We had been here in Kenya for almost a week, and as wonderful as it has been so far, I have just been aching to interact with these kids. So yesterday, when we found ourselves sliding off chairs, slamming into the windows and bumping along down the road in the little blue van, Kira and I could barely contain our excitement. The road from Ogembo to Etora is relatively short, bending through the town out past road side ‘vendors’, assorted churches, and into small farming communities. Once we arrived at the school, Dorothy gave us a tour. The school is one long raised building, half finished, empty square brick rooms, red earth floors, each containing a blackboard and some desks. She showed us the church building, and what will be her families house. Then we walked back up towards fields of tea, stopping by the little brick kitchen and meeting two of the cooks, Lazarus and Alice. We were then met by Samson behind all the buildings and he explained the plan for building the orphanage, and finishing the other school buildings. As we were picturing the floor plan for the 60 person orphanage, a trickle of shy but extremely excited faces started to emerge from behind the kitchen. Mary, the dorm mother had gathered all the kids and brought them to meet us. They stood several feet away in a clump, smiling and staring, but averting their eyes as soon as our gaze met theirs. Samson gave us the most beautiful introduction, he elicited such respect, speaking much too highly of us with the kindest introduction, while simultaneously making the kids laugh and feel at ease. Then Kira and I got to speak to them briefly before they had to run off and do their washing in the river. You can tell these kids have been through so much, and are so strong and resilient. They smile so sweetly, and listen obediently. They obviously adore Samson, and he is incredible with them. He absolutely came to life when speaking to the kids. And he speaks of them with such care, his entire heart is with these kids and this church and school. He does SO much, so much, it would take an entire blog post to explain all that Samson manages to fit into a day. But he doesn’t complain, he does what he feels is right, and he is a savior for all these orphans, and an obvious light in so many people’s lives.
We went down with Dorothy to watch the kids do their wash in the river, it is amazing how hard-working and disciplined the kids are, they make washing clothes in a muddy brown river look enjoyable. We began to introduce ourselves to each of the kids as they would pass us, starting to try and memorize their names. That’s going to be a feat itself.
Dorothy, like Samson, adores these kids. She said “I know it is not in the near future, we have so much work still to be done, but sometime in the future my dream is to be able to afford a washing machine for the kids.” Her heart is so genuine and giving, and the seemingly simple request was powerful to hear. My washer at home has been broken for the past few months, hearing her speak about a washing machine as if it was the highest honor to own one really smacked some perspective into me. If there is one thing I have learned from visiting developing countries, it is about the importance of gratitude and perspective. These incredible little humans live with so little, so so happily. There are 64 orphans, ages 8 through 18 and I can not wait to get to know every single one of them.
Leaving the kids yesterday made us so excited to officially begin our work as interns for HCIC. Driving back in the little blue van my mind was flashing each of their big bright smiles into my stream of consciousness. Kira and I kept exchanging glances, so excited that we are lucky enough to be here. Our normally 8 minute drive home always ends up turning into at least 15. The driver, David, knows everyone in town. Whenever we drive through town we become a community bus, pulling over constantly to pick up another friend of Davids, or a friend of a friend. Everyone squishes in like a clown car, and then we begin dropping them off along the way home. He waves at the police officers we pass on the way to school every day, honks hello to passing cars, and stops to chat with different people in the town. Samson is the same way, they are so friendly. There is no sense of urgency, no rush, time moves as it needs to. They know they will get where they are going, and they enjoy the ride and people along the way. I like imagining David driving in New York City.
Whenever we leave the house everyone stares. I don’t think staring is rude here. Either that, or we are just the absolute strangest thing they have ever seen. All the kids yell ‘Mzungu’ which is White Person in Swahili. Sometimes they yell it in wonderment, sometimes it’s passed along in whispers to one another, and sometimes they yell it, waving, trying to get our attention. It’s strange how okay it is for them to yell that. We take no offense to it, it’s just interesting thinking how that would go over in America, or if the roles were reversed. But the cultures are so strikingly different, it’s almost incomparable. And honestly, it’s pretty darn cute that every kid wants to say hi to us. I want to talk to each of them, so the feeling is mutual.
A few days ago we went to Kisii town. It is a bigger city and is always so interesting seeing the weird meshing of cultures. People are either wearing quintessential african cloth or a business suit, or a combination. Some women are wrapped in traditional garb carrying baskets on their heads, some in smartly ironed suits carrying briefcases, while others wear mismatched decade clothing; YOLO hats, gators shirts (got lots of Florida fans over here in Kenya), hard rock cafe T-shirts... It’s funny what comes over from America.
Some friends and people we are close to have gotten malaria while we have been here. Luckily it is easier to treat now, and the medicine is helping. But it reminds me how our mosquito net is our best friend. Every night I lay there in our little blue mesh tent, feeling so grateful for it. Luckily we haven’t seen many mosquitos in our room. So far we have killed one already dead mosquito, so I think our track record is pretty good so far.
We are so excited about being here, we are feeling well adjusted and rarely feeling homesick. We have so much more to share, but it will have to wait until tomorrow, I’m falling asleep at the keyboard, WHICH is extremely exciting because we rarely fall asleep before 3 or 4. Our sleep cycles refuse to adapt to Kenya time. It’s getting pretty obvious that I’m sleep deprived... I keep spelling things wrong (not abnormal) and I asked Kira if my computer was autocorrecting to Kenyan English instead of American English... (definitely abnormal) Otherwise, all is well on this side of the world, hope everyone at home is doing well!
*Key to the places we often mention:*
Ogembo: the town where Samson and his family live, where we are staying Kisii: the closest big main town with bigger markets and stores Etora: where the Kenyan New Church is, same grounds as the Sacred Care Orphanage (currently orphans are staying in rented rooms) and Good News Preparatory School (New Church school where orphans go and local community kids) This is the site where most of our work will be done.
“CLICK HERE for a GUARANTEED 2 year USA work visa” these neon words are flashing on my screen, and on the sidebar... “Do you want a lifetime American green card?!” No thanks google, turns out I won’t be needing either of those. Even the pop-ups on my computer are a constant reminder of how different of a world we are living in, and how far we are from home... Although ads like that are common, and some people do believe they will have a better life if they make it over to America, most people are totally content with their lifestyle. If they are not, moving to America isn’t their solution. We come from America where so many people think so many other countries of the world want to be like us or hold us on some sort of pedestal, and while I am so thankful that I live in such a free country, I feel so blessed to have travelled and seen the reality of America’s idolatry. To some cultures we are freedom and control crazed, to others we are cheeseburger eating fatties, and to many we are just that place where that one friend went to that one school. Here in Kenya, their standard of living is much lower then the average Americans, but there isn’t a feeling that something is lacking. There is something strong and appealing about living a more minimalist and simplistic lifestyle. The amount of ‘stuff’ you own really does have the power to dictate over the rest of your life if you let it.
Kira and I sat together cross legged under our mosquito net the second night we were here and realized how a huge theme of this trip is letting go of all control and expectations. That is the only way to remain sane, and survive in such different surroundings; it is the only way to fully appreciate it here. There is so much value in becoming fully immersed in an entirely new culture. It’s overwhelming in all the best ways, and simultaneously the loneliest you will ever feel. There are moments when all you can do is sit, frozen, it feels like your chest is ripping open and everyone you’ve ever known can see every single flaw and vulnerability you have. It feels like home is lightyears away and ten weeks is a century. These moments happen, no matter how strong you are, how much you believe in the work you are doing, everything is foreign. Isolation and fear is part of the experience, It’s important to breathe into these moments, let yourself freak out. These moments always pass. And the more you are able to let go, the more you are able to fully embrace the beauty in the poverty and appreciate even the strangest and most foreign experiences. It’s funny how you find comfort in the strangest things. Neither Kira or I are huge fans of soda, but for some reason having Orange Fanta with dinner the other night was the most incredible experience. It was the best damn Orange Fanta I have ever had.
Dorothy, the eldest daughter has been showing us around town for the past couple days. She is such a sweetheart, so honest and kind. Her smile alone makes you feel comfortable. She tells us about the town, teaching us how to get around and if we get lost to: “never tell anyone you are lost”. She is gentle but quick to tell us what to do. She likes having us here because she loves being able to tell someone what to do, and my goodness we appreciate having someone help us out. She isn’t bossy in the slightest, just an excellent guide. And she still likes us even after we practically forced her to go home the most difficult way possible, up a steep hillside, just because we wanted to see the view. Dorothy kept telling us how much they love white people here in Ogembo. When she told us that we thought maybe we were just an unusual sight. But once every single pair of eyes in the town was looking at us, and every child was giggling or running up to say hello... then we believed her. It’s funny, being treated like you’re famous when you feel like the most average joe there ever was. But it’s beautiful meeting them all, having your hand grabbed by an old lady who is forcing you to tell her your name is strangely endearing.
Remember when you were a kid and you would visit somewhere else and start to notice differences? The light-switch at your cousins house is different, or the trees on vacation have no branches to climb like the ones at home. That is how it feels here, the differences are so captivating and yet I know soon it will feel normal. You only eat rice, potatoes, and noodles. You brush your teeth with water from a water bottle. You go grocery shopping by walking through the streets and buying what you need off different peoples’ blankets. The town is so alive. People are lining the streets, selling, shopping, or just visiting. An occasional car or motorbike kicks up the red earth, driving down over the muddy river towards Kisii town. Everything is so green. Dorothy told us that this region grows a lot of food for the country and this was evident as we walked through many different fields. The earth smells so full, it’s richer and warmer to the nose then American farms. All the buildings are rickety and broken down, but they do not make the town feel unsafe. The buildings are just not there to impress, you don’t judge the quality of the company or store based on its cleanliness or appearance. It’s all about the people and what they are offering. To find a SIM card for Kira’s phone we didn’t just walk into a store and pick out one that looked good, or find the best price. It’s by word of mouth. Dorothy would walk around and ask where was the best place to find the SIM card we needed. Someone would tell her one place, she would go there and be told somewhere else. Everything is more organic, there is an ebb and flow to the market place.
These past few days have been wonderful. Samson is forcing us to take it easy, he is so glad we have lots of time to finish our work so we can fully adapt to the climate and the time zone. Having the time to rest and get settled has been exactly what we needed, and yet we can not wait to meet the kids at the orphanage. Every day we get more and more excited to finally get to the orphanage and get started on the work we came here to do.
I feel like we are finally leaving the twilight zone and starting to enter into the reality of our move. Travel is always hectic, and exhausting, and finally, 36 hours later, we are here. I am writing this to the sounds of wild dogs fighting, from under the mosquito net in our new room for the next ten weeks. Samson and his family are the kindest hosts ever. We got off our last flight in Kisumu and picked up our bags, and as soon as we walked out the front doors, glancing around just starting to wonder where they might be; Samson, Jackline his wife, and his entire family were waving us down like we were old friends. We were warmly greeted with handshakes, hugs, and introductions. And every piece of luggage we had was adopted by one of the children, they looked like a caravan of giant backpacks with legs sticking out wandering towards the van. We all squished into the beat up bright blue van with purple neon lights, writing all along the side and God's Life printed in giant white letters on the windshield. Packaged like sardines in a technicolored can, we were off. As soon as I sat down four sets of hands were playing with my hair, combing their fingers through it and braiding it, commenting on how soft it was (which shocked me seeing as I had been travelling for hours, and hadn’t showered in two days, but lesson 14: everything is relative). Gina and Dorothy, Samson’s oldest daughters were asking us all about our lives, families, and our hobbies. We hit it off with them instantly, their english is excellent, I can tell we will become close with them. Bumping along through the dirt streets that somehow smell equally fresh and like sewage. We were taking in the sights that will soon become familiar; the empty rickety stands used to sell wares during the day, the broken down buildings painted with advertisements, cows and dogs running through the streets, the classic african trees that make my Disney brainwashed mind instantly think of the Lion King. Exhausted, we were finally settling down, breathing easier as we travelled through the streets of Kisii, we had made it, no more tight connections to make, no more standing by half broken conveyor belts wondering if our luggage had made it through. And just as I was starting to marvel at how seamlessly this trip had gone, giant bolts of lightning lit up the sky, outlining the horizon. I am a huge fan of lightning, watching storms from my front porch is one of my favorite pastimes, but I had not seen lightning anything like this before. Vibrant glowing purple bolts shooting across the entire sky, creating daylight for a full second. Brighter, bigger, and stronger then any lightning I’d seen, it became soothing, and soon both Kira and I had fallen asleep on each others shoulders. We were woken up by Gina, trading seats with Kira. The seats are fairly small and they were worried we were going to fall over, so each one of them sat with us and laid our heads on their shoulder. Gina stroked my head and played with my hair until I fell asleep again. The next time I woke up I realized my knee was wet, I was sitting next to the window that leaked, and it was down pouring, I could barely see through the front windshield. Gina laid her coat out over me, and I nodded back off to sleep. The next thing I knew I was being woken up, and the car was stopped. It took about half an hour, but soon we figured out that the car had broken down and something in the wiring was shot so the headlights were not working. Luckily the rain had stopped, and we thought it was probably just an easy fix, no one seemed to be that worried. They had it under control, I thought, for the first hour or so. Then I was wondering if maybe they should find someone who knew more about broken down blue painted vans with purple lights. Soon a motorcycle with two men I assume Samson was friends with came speeding in to where we were pulled over. They tried their hand at fixing the truck, until another two manned motorcycle skidded to a stop and they both tried to fix it. There was such a great sense of community, and repetition... Each person would lift up the drivers side seat, pull out some metal that was covering the engine, play around in there for a bit, slam the drivers seat back down, hop in the car, a few men would push the car as someone inside was trying to start it, we would lurch back and forth about 3 times, then the van would sputter to a start, and we would drive forward about two feet, rev the engine about twice, then back up to where we had started, the engine would die, and the whole process would start over again. And again. And again. And maybe 20 or so more times. Finally about four hours later, we were woken up (the rhythmic stopping and starting became very soothing) and bleary eyed, we climbed into a cab. The cab lit the way for the van which drove, but had no headlights. I commend their dedication to fixing the van for four hours and not giving up, and the driver’s bravery for driving the van with no lights. So our little caravan of two was off to Ogembo, the town in which Samson lives. Tired and grateful to have finally arrived at our destination around 3 in the morning we climbed up to the top floor in the pitch black, and settled into Samson’s adorable apartment (the photo is the view from the stairs climbing up to his apartment during the day). We are so grateful to his family for taking us in; they made us feel so welcome.
We have now been here for two days. Samson told us to spend at least two or more days resting and then we will start our work at the orphanage. So these two days have felt sort of like a blur, we wake up to eat some rice and potatoes, fall back asleep, wake up and ate more rice and potatoes, and fall back asleep, and repeat. Today we woke up finally feeling rested, and we are hoping to get out and visit the town to get some errands done.
And so ends our first official blog post from Africa. It’s crazy that in a community where even getting clean drinking water is a challenge, there is a way to get internet. We are so grateful to be able to keep HCIC, Charity Works, and all our friends from home in the loop. HCIC (Helping Children in Crisis) is the organization that funds and helps run the orphanage that we are here to do work for. And Charity Works is a wonderful New Church organization that helps fund service projects, they have immensely helped us with our financial needs for this trip. Without both of these organizations, and the beautiful people within them, our trip could not happen. It has taken all day to figure out getting the internet for my laptop, surprisingly, getting our phones connected is much easier. We went out to Ogembo for the first time, so much has happened since I wrote this blog post, but I desperately need a shower, I can wipe the dirt off my skin. We are playing with the kids, and about to eat dinner. Next time we post we will share our first impressions of the town of Ogembo, how wonderful Dorothy is, what it is like to be the ONLY white people in town, and how soothing Orange Fanta can be.
We've made it to our first stop in Doha, Qatar after a long 12 hour flight. This morning couldn't have started out better, with green smoothies, loving friends to send us off, and maybe a missed alarm or two ...or six.
It's been months of preparations, a few crazy last days of packing and shopping, and a whole lot of love and support from the people around us, and now that everything is coming together it feels pretty surreal.
We have another flight to Nairobi in a few hours, and then yet another to Kisumu, where we will be picked up and driven home to Kisii.
Our layovers are pretty tight so we haven't got much time to introduce this blog, but it's exciting to be able to share this incredible and terrifying experience with whoever wants to get a glimpse.