Christopher - Bofu Celebration Day

This journal entry is from Christopher, one of our youth expeditioners.  The youth expedition was an entirely new concept this year, with the youth living in mud huts, in a village, away from the comparative luxury of the KCC (Koins Community Center).  They used latrines, which will be used by the Vikolani primary school once the expedition is done.  They slept in hammocks in their huts, took bucket baths in bath huts made of palm leaves, and essentially, lived about as authentically as a group of Americans can in rural Kenya.  It is interesting to observe their perspective on their experience.

Wednesday July 11, 2012

Written by Christopher Osborn

What a day!! We woke up at 5:45 and found that we were already late... We made the trek to the KCC, where we prepared for the race to Bofu. This race is a pretty big deal.  People come from all of the villages to get a chance to run a 7.2 mile race, across the arid Kenyan hills, for a monetary prize of great value. When we arrived at the KCC around 7:00, there were already over 50 Kenyans waiting. And the race starts at 8. 

We ate breakfast at the luxurious KCC, which is a 5-star hotel compared to our dirt floor huts. Most of the youth ate scones, while several of us, the ones who were going to run, stuffed them in our packs for after the race. We tied our shoes, filled our bottles, and pinned our numbers on. Since Kenyans run at leopard speed, all white people were allowed to start the run with the women, who began the race 20 minutes before the men. We took a photo with all of the runners and lined up. I heard someone yell something and we started running. 

The road to Bofu

I found myself left far behind by the women, who sprinted from the start...and didn't stop! I ran down the road, which is just a wider dirt path. I ran up and down hills, looking out over the valley as I went. This place is simply beautiful! It is dry and dusty, but the streams are lined by massive palm trees. This view is what kept me going when I wanted to give up and walk. Looking out at this amazing 360 degree view, and stepping back a bit and thinking, "I am in Kenya, in Kenya, running the longest run I've ever ran, against Kenyans, who are not only twice as fast as me, but are barefoot! I can keep going."

Christopher running to Bofu

As with every day, every twenty or so steps someone would yell "Jambo!" and I would reply with "Jambo!". I especially love it when the children yell jambo. Some of the adults would go on to say something in Swahili or Duruma and I would just smile back, because I can't understand one word they say. Every so often, I would pass one of the checkpoints where the others were waiting to hand out water. Unfortunately, the water isn't safe for us to drink, so I would run past just saying hello and receiving some encouragement.

Water station along the race route
  

I knew that the men were fast, but it surprised me when the men would pass me at double my speet, and that's not all, while we were going up a hill.

When we reached Bofu, a small group of children started running with me after greeting me with "Jambo!". They ran with me until just before the finish line, which was a row of yelling Kenyans. I nearly collapsed when I stopped running and Jami was there asking if I needed any water. I realized that I had completely forgotten about the liter water bottle I was carrying!

I found Chase, who had somehow finished 3rd, (of the women...) and we sat down, ate our scones, and took a break. All of the runners were given a T-shirt, a wristband, and a packet of swedish fish! Boy oh boy! I have never enjoyed swedish fish so much before! And then another photo was taken, this time with all of the runners in their T-shirts.

All the runners in their race t-shirts

A small parade arrived. It was made up of several women dancing and a few men in cultural clothing with leather straps on their legs that had cans with rocks in them. They would stomp and dance, creating a strong beat. We paraded/danced over to the new two-room classroom. The building was dedicated and many more pictures were taken, the entire time the dancers outside still dancing. We walked over to a row of holes and every visitor got to plant and water a sapling. There was a large ceremony and it seemed that all of Bofu was there. The Skonnard family and the Guest family were thanked in an elaborate ceremony and given Doruma names. There were several activities and dances and songs for entertainment and at the end several people spoke. We walked over to the vans and had the opportunity to ride back to Vikolani.

Dancers at Bofu celebration

We had cabbage and ugali for lunch and most of the guys fell asleep in their hammocks. Benny, Caleb and I sat down in the hut and wrote in our journals for a while, trying to catch up because we have been so busy there hasn't been much time to write. We took turns in the showers because we didn't exactly smell like fresh linen after the race. There wasn't any warm water at the time, so my shower consisted of a cold bucket of water and an extra shirt for a towel. But did that feel great! I fixed our door handle because Ted was asleep. It is normally Ted's job because he designed the rope with  knots tied on the ends fed through a hole. Normally, when it breaks, someone yells, "TED!! You're door broke again!" and he comes and fixes it.

We broke out the guitars and ukelele and started playing and singing when a boy named Edwin came to our camp to teach us how to make slingshots. He started by showing us how to make marbles from the dirt. He made a pile of dirt and poured some water into the center and mixed it into a clay. After he would roll small balls and set them out to dry. We made our slingshots with his help and tried to shoot them. Benny and Gary can both hit a pole at over 10 yards!

The youth practicing with their new slingshots

We headed back inside and continued writing in our journals. All of the sudden Garey runs into the room and yells, "Chris!! I have some stuff for you!" We share our handwritten dictionaries. 

Run For Your Life

A blog entry by Karen Timothy, a participant in the July 2011 Koins Expedition. 

            The phrase “Run For Your Life” took on a whole new meaning this past July as we held the Koins second annual Half Marathon; this time from Myenzeni to Gona.  As Monica Woodland was pondering what to do for her project in Kenya, she heard about last year’s race and knew without a doubt that this was what she wanted to put her energies into…and what a lot of energy that was.

American and Kenyan women ready to start their race

            The race is quickly becoming the opening ceremony for the dedication of a new school.  Last year about 100 Kenyan men showed up for the race but the only women to participate were a few girls from the expedition.  The race went from the KCC (Koins Community Center) to the new school and not all starters finished the race.  Speculation has it that when it became apparent to the slower runners that they were not going to be able win the $100 prize money, many of them lost interest and dropped out. 

            Monica had a different vision for the race this year.  Knowing that Kenyan women are not treated with the same deference American women are, she wanted to provide an incentive for women to enter the race and be able to win some money of their own.  Word soon spread around the village that there would be cash prizes for the 1^st, 2^nd and 3^rd place winners for both men and women and we American women were quite excited about the idea of a Kenyan woman being treated equal to the men.  The night before the race, Monica and I sat at one of the school lunch tables that were our only furniture in the KCC, playing out scenarios of how much money to award and when to award it.  As we were tossing around our ideas, Bret (Koins founder, Baba [father] Bret to the Africans and bigger-than-life-shaved-headed-America) joined us and threw a wrench into our brainstorming.  He was quite firm in his feelings that the women should not receive as much prize money as the men.  Monica and I both felt the hackles on our necks raise a little at this.  He explained that they would not expect it and that their husbands would just take it anyway –“ it’s just the African way.”  He also said it wouldn’t be wise to award the women’s prize money along with the men’s at the Gona school celebration. “But,” he said in parting, “it’s your race.”

            After Bret left, Monica and I talked a little more.  She got opinions from a few of the other women in the group and finally made a decision.  We proceeded with our girl-power pride intact to prepare the awards, placing the money into envelopes.

Monica on the road from Mnyenzeni to Gona

Water stop on race route

            The next morning, Tara and I were stationed at the second water stop with an African college student named Charles.  We were dropped off on a dirt road with our water and cups and went about setting up our things on a school desk that had been placed there for our use.  Immediately a group of children started waving and shouting their now familiar greeting, “Jambo,” drawing closer each moment as their curiosity piqued. Shortly, three teens on a motorcycle drove up and demanded water in what to Tara and I, were rather challenging, if not angry, voices.  Charles barked back at them to leave…the water was for runners that would soon race by here.  Without further argument they sped off and Tara and I were grateful that someone had the sense to see that we were accompanied by an African.  No sooner had we settled back down when out of nowhere we were confronted by two tall, thin African men with huge dangling earlobes, dressed in the red robes of the Maasai tribe.  They carried their trademark walking sticks and barked out an order to Tara…”Sista, give me drink!”  When she gave them one of her “I don’t even see you standing there you scary stranger” looks, they shouted their demand again….”Sista, give me water!”  There was no way she was going to engage with these men so Charles stepped in and told them they could have water but to take the cups themselves.  They  did so, then threw their cups on the ground (another Kenyan behavior we Americans just can't understand) and left as quietly as they had come.

             -(The Maasai tribe is a group of nomads that live out their lives wandering the land with their cattle herds, often not coming near villages for a month or more at a time.  They are “Googleable” for those interested in learning more about them.)

KweKwe in the lead

      Again we were grateful for Charles’ presence but soon forgot about our thirsty visitors as we saw in the distance what appeared to be an African woman running towards us with a big white number pinned to her chest.  (The fact that she was running should have been  all the clue we needed to identify her as a one of the contestants.  We never once saw a woman hurrying there.  They always just trudged along with their babies on their backs and their loads on their heads.)  Sure enough, in another minute a beautiful, tall African woman came flying by us in her flowing chiffon dress and bare feet, refusing the proffered water.  Tara and I jumped up and down and cheered like fools.  Not far behind, a second woman was tearing up the dirt path.  She, too, was barefooted and only paused long enough for a quick drink before making the turn.  The only other women that passed our station were those from our expedition.  They did not qualify for prize money so they were in no hurry!  We later learned that only 2 women and about 31 African men had entered the race this time.  Again, we wondered if the fact that so few could win anything prevented more from entering.  It was suggested that next year they offer some sort of prize like a t-shirt or water bottle for all those who finish the race.  It’s my guess that this would generate far greater interest and motivation.

Race winners honored at Gona celebration

            Later that day, at the celebration of the Tingey School of Gona, all of the marathon winners were introduced and the men were given their prize money in front of a duly impressed crowd.  There was just a brief mention that the women had already received a prize earlier in the day.  I think there were more than a few Americans who were disappointed that they hadn’t let the people know that the women had also received their prize money.  However, this is not our culture and change is a slow, tedious process.  It was a frank reminder that we cannot just go over there and change their world in a day – nor should we.  They are a beautiful people with a long history and while we ache for them to have the comforts and advantages we do, there are many obstacles to overcome and change will take time.  The fact that Koins now has the first female university student from the village studying in Nairobi is huge.  Hopefully more progress is on the way but to have used this marathon to take a hard stand about the need for Kenyan women to be treated like American women would have proved disastrous.  Thank you Baba Bret.

            The whole thing was quite a learning experience for us all.  The fact that this Kenyan mother, Kwe Kwe,  could earn money by simply running 13 miles proves that sometimes you really can “run for your life.” She will likely buy food, maybe clothing for her children but whatever she does, she now has an American sister she will never forget.  Monica, who always looks like she just stepped out of a fashion magazine, chose to spend the following night with Kwe Kwe at her home, learning what it feels like to sleep in a mud hut with no water to drink and no hand blowers in the restrooms.  She came home humbled and teary-eyed and it was clear to us that Monica will never be the same.  The second-place winner, also named Kwe Kwe, undoubtedly marveled at her good fortune at the hands of an unknown American woman who wanted to make a difference.  It was an honor to witness this bit of compassion and sisterly love.  Well done, Monica.

Karen Timothy
_____________________________

I had the opportunity to ride backwards on a motorbike driven by Bret, to film and photograph the race from that perspective.  It was a bit of a challenge, but a fun way to see the faces and effort being put forth by the runners.  It was also a kick to see the faces of the villagers as they watched me from my awkward vantage point, wondering what the crazy white woman was doing.

The KweKwe's before the race started

I saw the women at the beginning of the race, the Kenyan women with their shy, quiet approach to the starting point (running is simply not something that Kenyan women do publicly).  I saw the determination in KweKwe's pace, she wanted to be the first over the finish line.  She kept looking over her shoulder to ensure she was in first place.

KweKwe #1 crossing the finish line

Monica and the KweKwe's post race feet

I saw the dusty and bleeding feet of the two KweKwe's as they finished the race, having run barefoot the entire way. 

Monica proudly poses with the two female race winners

I saw the faces of the KweKwe's as they were given their prize money in a quiet, post race gathering.  The incredulity of the prize they were receiving was obvious.  It was almost as if they expected it to be taken back from them.  They both quickly tucked the money into their clothing.

KweKwe #2 with her prize money

Several of us gathered around the Kenyan women after the race, and asked them about their lives. KweKwe #1 was a 30 year old widow with 6 children. We all knew the impact the prize money would have on her family.   KweKwe #2 had 4 children, and again, the impact of the prize money would be immense.

Happy racers

Monica congratulating the women at the Gona celebration

Sunday evening, KweKwe #1 walked to the KCC to visit with Monica. She brought a gift and wanted to personally thank Monica.  Bret and Monica spent some time with her, and the end result was that Monica packed up a bag and headed off to KweKwe's home to spend the night with her family.

I was speechless. In all the years of Koins working in Kenya, I had never seen a woman spend the night in a villager's home. It is a common practice for the expeditioners to shadow a village woman during the day, and experience the day to day work of a Kenyan woman. However, spending the night in a mud hut is a totally different story.

We all worried about Monica and how her village experience was going. The next day we arrived at KweKwe's village area promptly at the designated time, expecting Monica to be there waiting for us. She arrived about 30 minutes later, regretful that she would not see KweKwe's children arrive home from school that afternoon. She had great stories to share of her experience, and fond memories that she will reflect on her entire life.

Monica receiving adulation of fellow expeditioners upon her return to the KCC

Monica left Kenya with a new sister of her heart.  I left with a renewed desire to help the women of Kenya, who live such difficult, hardworking lives.

Asante, Monica, for your example.

IVL

Ingrid's Kenya Journal, Part 4, July 30-31, 2010

Friday, July 30, 2010

The Framptons brought a rose brand for desks, so Brayden decided to donate his Eagle Scout desks to Dzivani and they were branded, the rose brand a symbol for Sophie Rose, McCall's friend who died a few weeks ago.  We left the Framptons to brand, and Curt showing how the Synergy stencil is to be used to identify some other desks.

Rose brand for Frampton School desks

A group of us decided to go to a school about a hour away, Kibandaongo, where albino chldren go.  I was expecting a large group of albino children but there were only about 5 actually there.  It was the last day of school before the break, so that might be why.  There was a short performance by the children.  We toured the facility, which was built in 1968 but had recently been renovated by a donor from Holland.  They are building a dorm for the albino children to live in while they attend school.  There are currently 16 children attending school there, but the dorm will house 48 from the surrounding area.  Ultimately, the goal is to bring all albino children from the area to this school to live.  While the rest of the group played with the children, Jami and I met with the school board and the head mistress, and she began listing her needs: matron for dorm, salary for matron, 48 beds for school, security, cistern, latrines, etc.  I stopped her and explained the policies of Koins, putting 10% up front, and the fact that we need to work closer to Mnyenzeni.  I hope we can find a sponsor for the beds or specific need they have, but I let them know we wouldn't be able to take care of their construction needs. Albino children have a difficult life in Kenya.  They are picked on and often segregated from their peers, they are often subject to violence and even death at the hands of local witch doctors, and just living in the Kenyan sun is hard on them.  Every albino I have ever seen is burned, peeling, blistered, squinting in the sun, and because they don't have access to sunscreen and sunglasses, they just live with it. 

Albino boy at Kibandaongo school

We then handed out hats to the albino kids, and took photos.  Matt Reinhardt specifically asked that we give the hats to albino kids.  We fit them as best we could, the Christensen's had a good safari hat that was great for a larger boy.  I took photos of the kids individually and with their parents.  One of the mothers had 2 albino children.  I would like to know more about why there are so many in this area.  There is a special education department of the Ministry of Education that is focusing on children with special needs.  They are using our Sean Michels School as a model to create boarding schools that cater to the needs of kids, such as albinos.  I am glad to see it happen.  It will still require a lot of private money to see the schools and dorms built, but there is an awareness that these kids need help, and that is a beginning.

Mother with her 2 albino children

Back to the KCC.  I talked to Lillian (who had come to Mnyenzeni today from Nairobi to speak to Mishi Matano and others about IOL), at length about life (she is a single woman, living in Nairobi, mid-thirties), the LDS church in Kenya (she has been a member for 16 years and served a mission in Nairobi) and IOL (she has worked with Marylynn Clark for about 10 years and it is her livelihood).  It was interesting to hear her perspective on life.  She rode through the night from Nairobi, spent the day with us, and was riding the bus back to Nairobi that night.

Ingrid and Lillian, from Inside Out Learning program

For dinner we had pilau with dehydrated chicken, fruit, vegetables.

Saturday, July 31, 2010

Early rising today, Jason and Dallin organized a race from Mnyenzeni to Dzivani.  It started at 7:30, (actually nearly 8:00, but this is Africa)  7 girls from our group ran, and Dallin, Jason, and James ran.

Runners from our group

Paul films start of race with on motorcycle with Bret

Race starts at the KCC - notice the assorted footwear of the runnners

There were over 100 that signed up for the race, about 80 that actually showed up, and a little more than 50 that finished.  Our girls were the only females that ran, and the Kenyans didn't seem to understand why they were running.  Paul filmed much of the race on the back of Bret's motorcycle, backwards.  Pretty amazing.  

Injured runner being tended to

Dallin and Jason on the run to Dzivani

Road to Dzivani

I went with a van that picked up people along the way to Divani.  We picked up several of our girls, Jami was the last one running.  We approached a crowd on the side of the road and a man was laying there, writhing.  We stopped, Naomi jumped out and started taking care of him.  She asked Jami for some ointment, so Jami handed her the Icy Hot.  Naomi then rubbed it into his arms and legs, which seemed to appease him enough that he jumped spryly into our van and rode the rest of the way sitting next to me.  Just want I wanted, to be squished next to a profusely sweating Kenyan in a crowded van.  We continued on our way, passing Jason and Dallin, and leaving them in a cloud of dust.  We got to Dzivani, where there had already been over 20 finishers arrive.  Dallin and Jason arrived, to tears  (Jason's) and cheers (the crowd).  It was quite emotional and the first time Jason had seen the village, therefore even more so for him.  The Frampton's then went to check out Dallin's mud hut before we started gathering for the celebration.  

Bret with the winner of the race

Dallin and Jason at finish line

Frampton family inside Dallin's mud hut home since March

There was a huge crowd at the presentation.  Jason awarded prizes to the top 6 finishers of the race, and the school was turned over to the community.  Every politician in the near vicinity chose to speak there.  When I saw the schedule for the celebration, I knew it would be a long one.  Several of us left 45 minutes after it started, but the celebration lasted more than 4 hours for the rest of the group.   I am glad we were able to leave, even though we had a longer day going into Mombasa to shop. 

Dallin's designated Kenyan parents

Celebration of the opening of Dzivani school begins

Frampton's watching the celebration

Jami, Sue, Sara, Robyn, Kaitlyn and I went to Mombasa to get groceries at Nakumatt.  We also got groceries and shower items for Chakaya and KweKwe.  As we were leaving I had Milton (our driver) call Anthony to see if there were any other errands to do in Mombasa.  We ended up shopping all the little shops for wedding food for 250.  It was hot, sticky, gritty and exhausting.  Biashara Street is always an interesting place, and white people are such a novelty.  We stopped at a place for spice, a place for tomatoes, a place for rice and beans, and a place for wedding cake.  It was a bakery run by a group of Indian's (I think) and they were well spoken and talkative.  We were all speaking with our village accent (something you start doing after a while here, it helps the villagers understand your English better), looking dusty and disheveled, so they probably wondered what in the heck we were doing buying two cakes for a wedding.  I am always intrigued by the diversity of the crowd on Biashara Street.  Everything from women in black burkah's with only their eyes showing to girls in shorts and tank tops, from a man in white flowing muslim robes and a bright neon orange beard to Indian men in modern casual clothes.  I loved seeing the beautiful women in their beaded saris or scarves, henna on their hands and feet, riding in the three wheel taxi's.  It must have been the time to be out, or a religious meeting had just ended because we saw a lot of them on the street walking and riding in vehicles. Our van was full to overflowing with food, so we headed back to the village. 

Buying food on Biashara Street

Construction project in Mombasa

Typical transportation vehicle in Mombasa (one pulls in front, one pushes behind)

Skyline of Mombasa, mud huts to high rise apartments

Woman working in the cornfields on the way back to Mnyenzeni

Sunset over Mwache river

After dinner there was a discussion of the wedding plans, then we met Kwe Kwe and had a gift shower for the she and Chakaya.  She is a very shy young woman, and the attention of the white women seemed almost painful to her. 

IVL