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| Bret with Elder Tuttle and President Broadbent of the Nairobi Mission |
Having never really spent any amount of discernible time in Nairobi, other than to and from the city center to the airport, the two days spent there left a much improved flavor in my mouth for Kenya’s largest city, and home of the world’s largest slum – Kibera, where 1.5 million people reside.
I met with Church dignitaries and national politicians, updating them on our activities in the Koins area. Most of the time they are astonished at what we accomplish from visit to visit, but this time renewed interest in working together is more than just sparked. President Broadbent of the Nairobi mission is truly a motivating man. His methodic approaches, mixed with can do/will do attitude clarifies why he is serving in this part of the world. His humanitarian missionaries, Elder and Sister Tuttle, are two very strong individuals who compliment each other’s strengths in peculiar way. She’s all about BYU, he is Crimson Red. He can’t wait to kick some programs off while she takes a very reserved approach. He can’t wait to go on a hunting safari with family members at the end of their mission, and she just rolls her eyes with understanding love. I’m just sorry we’ve not met prior to now since they only have 6 months left to serve, and we have a lot of work to do.
I was excited to go to the airport and begin heading for Mombasa. My bags were not even close to the weight provisions of domestic travel, so I reached deep into the hypnotic charm library and ended up paying 1,200 shillings ($14) for being 45 lbs overweight and having one bag over JetLink’s limit.
Mombasa has a small airport, so when you’re the only arriving plane, luggage handling goes quickly. Upon exiting the baggage claim, Anthony Yama was standing almost in front of me. I was wearing a hat, pulled down tightly, and sporting my salt-and-pepper (more salt than I’d like to admit) goatee that I began growing a couple of weeks ago. Since white people almost always look the same to these people, Anthony had to take several looks before he was convinced it was even me. The slightest change in appearance throws these guys off, and they don’t care for change. Since I was wearing a t-shirt that contained a brilliant blue “Anthony Yama for County Supervisor” slogan brightly emblazoned on the front, he knew it was me.
As he always does, Yama handed me the keys to the car. I hopped into the right side, pulled out of the lot and we were on our way down the left side of the road. It feels so natural that I don’t have to even think about it, kind of like speaking another language. The traffic was light since it is Sunday, and we darted to Tusky’s, the nearest shopping mart. Since I’m the only one in the village for the next several days, most of the goods were for me, so our buzzing around the aisles went quickly. I recognize some of the employees, and they make it a point to greet me back, so I feel even more comfortable. Yama wanted a double chicken cheese burger from the food kiosk inside the store. I had a diet coke and let him enjoy his feast.
Corn and wheat flour prices have doubled in the last year. Rice has also shot up nearly 50%, and the oil with which everyone cooks has risen so sharply that our people are feeling an even greater pinch when trying to feed their families. It is more apparent to me now how important it is for us to intensify our agricultural activities. At some point the world will quit feeding Kenya as they worry about themselves, and if Koins doesn’t step up and place our people squarely on their feet, our issues with food and diets will become astronomical and we’re going to lose a lot of folks.
On the main road finally heading towards the village area we ran into an uncharacteristic, Sunday afternoon traffic jam. We took the only alternative route and lucked out……for once. At the last junction before departing the city, large trucks, a sea of matatu’s (13 passenger vans filled to the brim with paying customers) scrambling private vehicles, and motorcycles culminate at a place that resembles more of a lumber mill road than the main artery between Mombasa and Nairobi. The tarmac the Chinese put down just 3 years ago has all but chipped away. With chuck holes and large stones everywhere, everyone trudges through the area, cussing the government, the traffic, and the abysmal condition of the road……including me. It’s not my first rodeo through here, so I keep my eyes on high alert and move forward.
As we pull up to the Koins Community Center (KCC), I have the sensation of being home. I enter my bedroom and find all of my belongings in order, everything washed and ready for me. Several visitors pass by to shout a cheerful hello, and I settle in.
One of the guys that has worked for us on some of our construction projects came by to see Anthony. His condition has worsened since the last time I saw him. I find it difficult not to stare, but his condition is terrifically mesmerizing, and you cannot help but gaze at the obvious situation. This poor 30-something man suffers from a fairly common disease in the south coast area that is caused by the bite of a mosquito – elephantitis. The specifics of the body parts affected by this disfiguring disease can be anywhere, but usually in the lower extremities. Our construction worker has an apple bag the size of a 5 gallon water jug dangling between his legs, and now you might understand why it’s difficult not to stare. As he and Anthony finished chatting, this guy walked slowly away, swaying to and fro, ever so slowly, ever so casually. It was then that I noticed the trail this suffering man left behind that resembled a large snake slithering through the dirt as waddled back and forth. Unbelievable! Yama was shocked to hear that I have never known anyone in the U.S. to suffer from a similar disease. Come to find out that the only reason our construction worker doesn’t go to the hospital for a procedure to remove this prodigious body part is because the man is still fathering children. Now tell me you wouldn’t stare. Liar!
After a dinner of fresh fruit and a rice dish I grabbed my bucket of hot water and headed to the shower area. I was alone, under the dark, African night sky, scrubbing the layer of dust from my skin. I look up as I dowsed myself and saw Orion, the astrological constellation shining vibrantly overhead. I realized that it was only a few days ago while lighting fireworks in celebration of New Year’s that this same sky warrior gazed down upon me in Alpine. Now, standing in a completely different hemisphere than my home, similar stars light up my sky, although in a slight differing configuration. My thoughts create a parallel between my snowy, mountainside home and the tropical summer heat I am experiencing here. The creature comforts vs. the difficulties of Koins Village, and the skin tones of the two respective “villages.” Orion gets to see both from high overhead at the same time. I’m sure he loves them both the same as I do.
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| Emily in front of her oven at the KCC, with her delicious banana bread |
Due to being summer here south of the equator, the sun rises quickly, so with the growing number of fowl in our chicken operation it only exacerbates the morning clamor. The only redeeming quality about this fussy flock is that they taste good. Mama Emily brought me my chai and a huge surprise, three loaves of her now infamous banana bread. Unfortunately it truly is so good that I keep it a secret from everyone else so I can hog it for myself. Yama and Buffalo will kill a loaf themselves, as will Eliud, our trusty scholarship coordinator and Chakaya, Yama’s Boy-Friday. (If you don’t know what that means, I’m just too old)
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| Kevin's Creek |
At first light I strolled down to the damn on Kevin’s Creek to assess the site. Even with all the rains, flash floods, and constant pounding in October and November, our dam stands defiantly strong in the middle of the stream, taking all the water that dares to challenge it into deep captivity. There is more water sitting between Mnyenzeni and Vikolani than in the history of this place, and the dream of farming year round is going to be realized this year.
A quick inspection of the goat facility also proved impressive. We have baby goats now being born, and our herd is increasing every week with knobby-kneed kids bawling for their mothers when separated.
Joyce, one of the nurses from our dispensary joined me at the goat pen and we had a wonderful discussion about our milk objectives for the HIV mothers. We have some high hurdles to surmount with local nattering and scandalous stigmas, but at the end of the day, we will be saving babies lives and the loving mothers will not be denied because of the nonsensical chatter of their busy-body neighbors. We have arranged a meeting with women’s group from near Mazeras where HIV positive ladies who have successfully waged battle against traditional stigmas will help us address methods to assist our women and avoid these problems. Imagining that the daily struggles of being infected aren’t enough, especially when they are RARELY the root of the situation.
My appointment in Mariakani with the Area Education Officer was fabulous. Rarely do I leave a political meeting with true feelings of hope, but Mr. Mangale has either fooled me like no other, or action will be taken. As Yama regularly states, “the proof is in the pudding.”
I dropped Yama off in Mazeras, greeting Mama Lucy, Eddie, and little Bret Cougar, Anthony’s youngest. We stopped at the small shanties along the main road to Mombasa to pick up some food items so I could offer Lucy a small token. Eddie is so shy, but his English is fantastic. Little Bret is a pistol, and the wrestling match lasted until I was sweating. Their daughter, Milly, has returned to boarding school where she has garnered the #1 position in her class…….not a significant feat when you are at a national school, Kenya’s crème della crème.
Instead of dragging Yama back to the village, I drove back along the dusty, bumpy, miserable roads. Buffalo and Emily waited for me to return, and we ate a bowl of noodles, fresh pineapple, and yes, another chunk of banana bread. I did share with Buffalo this time, but he was rationed.
As I write this I’ve lost a pint of blood to the hostile mosquitoes infesting the KCC. I have a 36 inch fan blowing full blast on me from two feet away, and these little virus-infected, blood-suckers actually fly into the forceful wind to viciously gnaw on my legs. There’s not a salmon in Alaska that can match the “upstream” determination of these annoying pests. I have one word for them……..R*A*I*D!!!!!
BVL
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