Dr. Paul Johnston is a Professor of Nutritional Sciences at Brigham Young University in Provo, Utah. He is also developer of the "super cookie." In this talk he explains how the forces of agriculture and nutrition can come together in the form of a "school garden" to provide better nourishment for young people in Kenya.
On April 5, he gave this talk in Park City, Utah that was part of a conference convening in Berlin, Germany by the Gates Foundation on world health and hunger. His talk was made available by streaming to Berlin. The talk dealt with his international nutrition class' interaction with the children in Kenya serviced by Koins and SRA.
This is a great summary of the nutritional difficulties faced by the children of our service area of Kenya. Dr. Johnston has visited Mnyenzeni, and established a relationship between his Nutrition classes at BYU and the young students in Kenya, analyzed their diets, and helped establish nutritional needs and the efforts of a school garden in Gona to better meet these needs. It is a great example of how his expertise, the input of his students, the experience of Self Reliant Agriculture (SRA) and the facilitating of Koins has worked together to successfully improve the diets of this test group of students. With the expansion of the rotational farm project through the cooperative efforts of SRA and Koins, we hope the future of the children of the Mnyenzeni area will be a brighter and healthier.
Many thanks to Dr. Johnston and the SRA for their willingness to work with Koins.
Asante Sana!
IVL
Monday, April 16, 2012
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Meeting in Vikolani, Bret's April Journal #3
This is another installment from Bret, who is in Kenya for a few weeks. Next week another expedition group will join him, but for now he is introducing Leah to the community and doing all that can be done to prepare her to take over the position of Executive Director of the Koins board in Kenya.
Technology is blessing we did not have available to us while in Kenya during the early years of Koins. Now cell phones are commonplace, and the internet is available, although it is still sketchy, as is cell service at times. So far this trip, I have been able to speak with Bret daily. I am always glad to receive his emails that share the activities of his days while in Kenya. Hopefully he will be able to share some photos soon. IVL
_________________________________
Replacing the man who has been the face of Koins for the last decade, one of their own, one with childhood friendships and students that he taught as children now raising families of their own in the area is not an easy task. Leah has been thrown into the deep end and is swimming like a champ as we travel around the area, meeting educational leaders, law enforcement directors, village elders, and everyone in between. We have had no shortage of group assemblies, and I’m sure Leah is beginning to feel like a GOP candidate, but these are necessary functions as Koins makes their transition.
The billowy clouds coming from the west, with their soaring columns of ruffled frames, indicate a chance of rain. The prayers on the ground implore that they find a home directly over us and pummel us with precipitation. A cool breeze washes in with the late, gray afternoon, bringing relief to me and a bone-chilling 78 degrees to this cold-blooded community. As I went for my afternoon walk over hill and dale, visiting the many family clusters dotting the dry hillsides, whatever items of clothing are available are placed on their bodies to stay warm. I walk around with a t-shirt and safari shorts, looking to them like I’m going to a Polar Bear Plunge party.
I crossed the dry bed of the Mnyenzeni River and headed up the opposite side. I was on unfamiliar paths, but children greeting me by name indicate that I’m still in my area. The trodden path lead me to an uncharacteristic village, with tidy huts placed in organized rows, and many large stones placed in an orderly fashion for sitting in a variety of places throughout this tiny hamlet. The children scurried around, afraid of their visitors, but announcing I had arrived. Soon the village center was crawling with mothers and tiny babies, toddlers, children and the white-haired elderly. As each exited their hut to come and greet us, they looked upwardly to determine the condition of the skies. They systematically pulled their kangas around their shoulders to shelter them from the bite of the wind. Million dollar smiles filled their faces as they greeted the first white man to ever set foot on their soil. Although the children were dying with curiosity, their fear never allowed them to come any closer than a distant handshake.
A young woman dressed in colorful robes and headdress greeted us. She knew me from the primary school where she attended until the age of 13. Her education ended when her test results didn’t permit her into secondary school. She followed the typical alternative - returning to the village, working the fields, and marrying someone from a neighboring village. She announced she was 17, as she adjusted the bundle on her back, revealing the frail baby cradled in its wrap. The infant’s beauty was astounding as she opened her coal black eyes to see who had caused her shuffling. She was cold and searched to retreat back to the warmth of her mother’s back. Winter is coming south of the equator, and small children who are already weak are often the victims of a mild cold or flu. Combined with exposure to malaria and water-born illnesses, I could only feel hopeful that this darling child would someday be one of the children calling to me from afar.
A stiff wind caused a visible shiver from the baby, so I told her mother to come to the Koins Center in the morning and I would provide her with a thick, warm, cozy blanket. Since I leave my belongings here, my bags when I travel are always filled with needed supplies, equipment, or other goods. My cousin Leigh, as well as my sweet niece, Katie, organized a multitude of blankets to be made specifically for this purpose. We usually reserve the blankets as a small reward to the women who come to the safety of our dispensary to have their babies instead of remaining at home. However, I couldn’t resist inviting this mother to come and collect a blanket for her baby. There has never been a smile so wide when she realized I was offering her one of our well-known blankets. She said that she was so excited that she would not sleep that night, and wanted to come early to the KCC, so I told her as early as she wanted. I am fully aware that she’ll be there as I exit my bedroom. I’ll have a blanket for her.
The District Officer in this large area is the top law enforcement official, but responsible for keeping order when dealing with disputes, land issues, community development, and alike. Our D.O. is one of the few females with this steep position, and having Leah as her counterpart in the community was truly a treat for her ears. She provided Leah with deep insight and wisdom from someone who came here from afar, a different tribe, and a woman placed in a leadership position in the middle of the Duruma people. I sat and watched our green executive absorb the words of wisdom from this seasoned veteran. They will be friends, and the relationship between her office and Koins will surely be strengthened. The long road Leah will travel with Koins is being paved, thus far, by wonderful people like Madam Gloria, the District Officer.
The brawny clouds remained silent throughout the evening, without spilling a drop on our beckoning fields. The churning of soil by hoe, oxen tillers, and the Koins tractor is the order of the day around here as everyone prepares for the rains. It will be soon when the seeds will be going into the ground, and that’s when every single prayer from each individual mouth will be directed upwards pleading to heaven for their vital rains.
Mmmmm good, brown beans and rice for dinner. A lukewarm glass of water as a chaser, and I’m off to the showers to scrub off anything that has attached itself to me during the day.
………………………..
With the assistance of a small, white Ambien pill, I finally enjoyed a full night’s rest. The crowing roosters, gurgling he-goats, or noise of the village interrupted my slumber. I am officially on Kenyan time.
Much of our objective for this expedition is to prepare for our summer activities. Today we met with the village of Vikolani (vee-co-lawn-ee). Yama, Buffalo, Tuku, me, and Edison (our agriculture specialist) made the trip on foot as a vehicle cannot reach there. Leah came with us to be introduced and take part in the planning process we have specifically for this village. We thought we were meeting with a few village elders and representatives from the women’s group. Upon our arrival at the Koins-constructed primary school, a couple of hundred villagers had gathered to greet us and make us feel welcome. With colorful dress, clapping hands, and songs of gratitude, we were seated under the sprawling branches of a Neem tree, one that has provided shade for weary travelers for over a century.
Our plan is to have a youth group come and live within the community. They will build a hut similar to those where the villagers live. A garden is being planted now that will provide harvest of native plants upon our group’s arrival, and our kids will rotate the garden and replant the soil. They will serve this community and live amongst them, herding goats, fetching water, planting vegetables, and preparing traditional meals – side by side with the people from Vikolani. We needed property where two huts could be erected. It was happily given to us. We need them to dig a pit where a latrine can be constructed. We were promised a pit 15 feet deep since we will construct it near the school so the children will finally have a place to go. Up until now……..well, let’s just say you had to watch where you were walking. Land for a garden that would be dedicated for our use had to be donated. No sooner was the request made that it was granted, and the location of the garden is in the center of the most fertile land in the village area, plush with coconut trees and green grasses. These grateful people have been served by Koins, and whatever we needed to achieve our goals was given. The fortunate young adults who will join our expedition in July will forever have Vikolani in their hearts, with memories that will last a lifetime.
We arranged for Leah to sponsor a lunch for all of the Koins staff, meeting each of them formally and addressing them as a group. There is no question that she will earn their respect, and they will give it freely as she works at their side. The laundry list of things to do seems endless, but the foundation stands firmly, ready for Leah’s blocks to be placed. Her abilities will only improve our work to this point, making our humble organization even better than it is, and this community is getting excited about it as they see Yama standing so firmly behind her and cheering her on. I asked the women’s group in Vikolani if they were happy about seeing a woman take over. It was if I had announced the winning lottery ticket number and their group was the owner.
Although I know the villagers love me, when I go for a run the children laugh out loud. They’ve never seen me run, as I never have before over here. Some of the younger kids will actually run with me, occasionally uttering jokes in Duruma, sending everyone that is with us into fits of laughter. These are Kenyans, and they know how to run. However, the men near my age group have quite a different reaction, and although they wonder why I’m working so hard, they encourage me. Here is today’s conversation that I found so funny:
Villager – “Baba Bret, you are running?”
Me – Ndio (yes)
Villager – “Are you in a hurry to get somewhere?”
Me – Apana (not really)
Villager – “Then why do you run?”
Me – (Blank look and a shrug of the shoulders)
Villager – “Baba Bret, walk and enjoy the day.”
I felt like taking their sage advice, but since my bride is back home killing my times at altitude, if I don’t run here I’ll never be able to catch her.
Me – Ndio (yes)
Villager – “Are you in a hurry to get somewhere?”
Me – Apana (not really)
Villager – “Then why do you run?”
Me – (Blank look and a shrug of the shoulders)
Villager – “Baba Bret, walk and enjoy the day.”
I felt like taking their sage advice, but since my bride is back home killing my times at altitude, if I don’t run here I’ll never be able to catch her.
Night falls like a thick blanket here. It’s quick, and becomes dark in just a few minutes time. There are no light poles that kick on to illuminate your way, or solar walkway lights that provide some sort of direction. It goes black, and you had better have excellent vision in the dark or a flashlight, because there are no options. Tonight the frogs have started singing. Why now? There were no rains today. I guess another Ambien is going to be required.
BVL
Monday, April 9, 2012
Bret, April Journal #2, Arriving in Mnyenzeni
As I begin this entry, I gyrate my 45 inch fan towards me and crank it to high. I'm not so hot that I need the air flow, but a 30 mph wind sure keeps the bugs off of me when the computer is the only light within a mile of here.
At less than a thousand feet above sea level there should be more air here than Purina has puppy pellets, allowing me to enjoy a longer, less arduous jog along the dirt roads of our area. For some reason the level of oxygen this morning resembled that of Mt. Kilimanjaro, and my leisurely run kicked my grits. Old women carrying bundles of sticks on their head passed me as I puffed my way up the hills. The ruts in the road, the large patches of sharp stones, and the herds of goats all required a great deal of circumnavigation. From how I felt at the end my 3 mile run, it must have equaled 17, so I’m good for another week. I have never run here in Kenya, and to people who live and breathe running I must have looked like a total ignoramus plodding along at laughable speeds. They may find this humorous, but let’s see them wolf down three twinkies and a large diet coke while driving down the road with their knees, and then we can talk!!
Our late arrival last night necessitated a run to the stores of Mombasa today for supplies. As we negotiated our way along our dreadful thoroughfares, Anthony pointed out several pieces of broken plastic on the far side of a ravine. I have passed this way a thousand times, admiring the rugged beauty of the cascading rock formations of this tiny gorge. It was less than a week ago that a bus traveled this road, overcrowded and in a hurry to reach its destination. It had just become dark as they peaked over the top of the hill leading down towards the main river that flows through this area. The driver was new and had never taken this road, but he had driven many similar roads in his career. As they came to a series of deep potholes the driver pushed on the brakes so he could slow enough to go around them. The brakes failed, forcing the bus to hit the deep holes, catapulting the passengers from their seats. The grade became immediately more abrupt and the aging bus picked up steam. The driver could not hold the road, but tried valiantly to keep the bus under control even though he was going through fields and bush. With the faint light of the moon he could see an upwards hill in the distance and headed in that direction. He ordered everyone to hold on as they panicked in their helpless situation. He avoided a tree, then another, and just as he thought he was going to begin going up the hill, the bus lunged over the edge of the small gorge where we had stopped, smashing into unforgiving rocks on the opposite side. The driver was killed instantly. Eight others were dead before help arrived. Anthony arrived on the scene moments later on his way home and was shocked at what he saw. Friends bleeding with broken bones and cracked heads. One woman was holding her own intestines in her arms as she was sliced open when flying forward in the cabin from the back rows and then bludgeoned on a luggage rack. Yama called our other board member, Buffalo Mwangi who was only a few miles away and cried for him to bring his truck quickly. This same bumpy vehicle that was used to bring Leah ‘s belongings to the village had become an ambulance. More than 30 people were loaded into the dirty flatbed and began their tortuous ride down the rutted, jarring roads of this area. Within 24 hours 4 more had passed from their injuries, with another half dozen still in critical condition.
Fanny works in our dispensary, logging excruciating hours in order to serve her fellow villagers. She has been trained as a lab tech, and uses our microscope and testing equipment to properly identify malaria and a few other common diseases that, prior to acquiring said microscope, regularly went mistreated. She and her 4-year old daughter were on that bus. Her little girl is always calling to me and waving from the small, makeshift classroom across the tiny road from our center. She wears her little, purple, checkered uniform so proudly, commonly sporting a new style of braid from her mother’s skillful hands. Fanny broke her spine in the accident, but did not sever the cord. She had a broken leg and minor cuts, but will heal with time. What will never mend is her shattered heart, as her beautiful daughter was buried two days later. She was one of the passengers who was killed instantly. Now, where only dry dirt and yellowing shrubs were once visible, a large piece of broken plastic marks the spot where the overfilled bus had this horrible incident.
A trip to Nakumat is like going to Costco without a plan……it can last for hours. We made it as fast as we could, but grocery shopping for a large group who will arrive next week takes a lot of time. We have to plan for the short term, then purchase those items that will last until the expedition is over. Leah got her first taste of how Anthony and I have done this for several years. I think she’ll improve upon it quickly, among other things.
We had to repair a flat tire at Mazeras, but with the amount of punctures these people experience, taking a tire off the hub, removing the nail that caused our leak, repairing it and placing it back on the car took a total of 20 minutes. That doesn’t seem too blistering fast until you realize that there was not one piece of power equipment involved. Hand jack, lug wrench, and tire irons………no zippy lug nut remover, hydraulics or air pressure machines. All by hand. With the mechanics charges and 25% tip, we drove out of there for $3.50. Sometimes it’s just too good to be in Kenya.
When we arrived back at the KCC, Buffalo’s truck was sitting out front being unloaded. Leah quickly went to the room where she will be staying and began nesting. She didn’t know where everything would ultimately go, so she just oversaw the general area stacking of boxes and furniture. She will be very comfortable in her new home with more space than she had in her old apartment in Nairobi. Once everything is placed, she’ll be happy to host her first visitors.
As darkness fell the Kenyan board of Koins was assembled at our favorite spot, on the front lawn of the KCC. We gathered our chairs in a circle and reunited for the first time since January. A lot has happened in that span, so the next couple of hours was filled with laughter, catching up, and serious business. Leah was invited into the circle after we had conducted our regular business and voted unanimously and exuberantly as the newest member, and incoming Executive Director of the Koins for Kenya Board.
Dinner was served as I wrestled with attempting to connect to the internet. I never did eat, but that’s not uncommon when I come to Kenya. I don’t know why, but this place is a great diet plan for me. I don’t mind their food, and quite enjoy many aspects of it, but I somehow lose my desire to eat. Resetting and restarting everything provided some relief, but the connections here in the village are abysmal, at best. Now, with everyone well into slumber and my daily duty fulfilled, I will take my bucket shower under the starry skies, slink under my mosquito netting, and see if I can catch a few hours sleep before that friggin’ rooster starts his daily routine.
At less than a thousand feet above sea level there should be more air here than Purina has puppy pellets, allowing me to enjoy a longer, less arduous jog along the dirt roads of our area. For some reason the level of oxygen this morning resembled that of Mt. Kilimanjaro, and my leisurely run kicked my grits. Old women carrying bundles of sticks on their head passed me as I puffed my way up the hills. The ruts in the road, the large patches of sharp stones, and the herds of goats all required a great deal of circumnavigation. From how I felt at the end my 3 mile run, it must have equaled 17, so I’m good for another week. I have never run here in Kenya, and to people who live and breathe running I must have looked like a total ignoramus plodding along at laughable speeds. They may find this humorous, but let’s see them wolf down three twinkies and a large diet coke while driving down the road with their knees, and then we can talk!!
Our late arrival last night necessitated a run to the stores of Mombasa today for supplies. As we negotiated our way along our dreadful thoroughfares, Anthony pointed out several pieces of broken plastic on the far side of a ravine. I have passed this way a thousand times, admiring the rugged beauty of the cascading rock formations of this tiny gorge. It was less than a week ago that a bus traveled this road, overcrowded and in a hurry to reach its destination. It had just become dark as they peaked over the top of the hill leading down towards the main river that flows through this area. The driver was new and had never taken this road, but he had driven many similar roads in his career. As they came to a series of deep potholes the driver pushed on the brakes so he could slow enough to go around them. The brakes failed, forcing the bus to hit the deep holes, catapulting the passengers from their seats. The grade became immediately more abrupt and the aging bus picked up steam. The driver could not hold the road, but tried valiantly to keep the bus under control even though he was going through fields and bush. With the faint light of the moon he could see an upwards hill in the distance and headed in that direction. He ordered everyone to hold on as they panicked in their helpless situation. He avoided a tree, then another, and just as he thought he was going to begin going up the hill, the bus lunged over the edge of the small gorge where we had stopped, smashing into unforgiving rocks on the opposite side. The driver was killed instantly. Eight others were dead before help arrived. Anthony arrived on the scene moments later on his way home and was shocked at what he saw. Friends bleeding with broken bones and cracked heads. One woman was holding her own intestines in her arms as she was sliced open when flying forward in the cabin from the back rows and then bludgeoned on a luggage rack. Yama called our other board member, Buffalo Mwangi who was only a few miles away and cried for him to bring his truck quickly. This same bumpy vehicle that was used to bring Leah ‘s belongings to the village had become an ambulance. More than 30 people were loaded into the dirty flatbed and began their tortuous ride down the rutted, jarring roads of this area. Within 24 hours 4 more had passed from their injuries, with another half dozen still in critical condition.
Fanny works in our dispensary, logging excruciating hours in order to serve her fellow villagers. She has been trained as a lab tech, and uses our microscope and testing equipment to properly identify malaria and a few other common diseases that, prior to acquiring said microscope, regularly went mistreated. She and her 4-year old daughter were on that bus. Her little girl is always calling to me and waving from the small, makeshift classroom across the tiny road from our center. She wears her little, purple, checkered uniform so proudly, commonly sporting a new style of braid from her mother’s skillful hands. Fanny broke her spine in the accident, but did not sever the cord. She had a broken leg and minor cuts, but will heal with time. What will never mend is her shattered heart, as her beautiful daughter was buried two days later. She was one of the passengers who was killed instantly. Now, where only dry dirt and yellowing shrubs were once visible, a large piece of broken plastic marks the spot where the overfilled bus had this horrible incident.
A trip to Nakumat is like going to Costco without a plan……it can last for hours. We made it as fast as we could, but grocery shopping for a large group who will arrive next week takes a lot of time. We have to plan for the short term, then purchase those items that will last until the expedition is over. Leah got her first taste of how Anthony and I have done this for several years. I think she’ll improve upon it quickly, among other things.
We had to repair a flat tire at Mazeras, but with the amount of punctures these people experience, taking a tire off the hub, removing the nail that caused our leak, repairing it and placing it back on the car took a total of 20 minutes. That doesn’t seem too blistering fast until you realize that there was not one piece of power equipment involved. Hand jack, lug wrench, and tire irons………no zippy lug nut remover, hydraulics or air pressure machines. All by hand. With the mechanics charges and 25% tip, we drove out of there for $3.50. Sometimes it’s just too good to be in Kenya.
When we arrived back at the KCC, Buffalo’s truck was sitting out front being unloaded. Leah quickly went to the room where she will be staying and began nesting. She didn’t know where everything would ultimately go, so she just oversaw the general area stacking of boxes and furniture. She will be very comfortable in her new home with more space than she had in her old apartment in Nairobi. Once everything is placed, she’ll be happy to host her first visitors.
As darkness fell the Kenyan board of Koins was assembled at our favorite spot, on the front lawn of the KCC. We gathered our chairs in a circle and reunited for the first time since January. A lot has happened in that span, so the next couple of hours was filled with laughter, catching up, and serious business. Leah was invited into the circle after we had conducted our regular business and voted unanimously and exuberantly as the newest member, and incoming Executive Director of the Koins for Kenya Board.
Dinner was served as I wrestled with attempting to connect to the internet. I never did eat, but that’s not uncommon when I come to Kenya. I don’t know why, but this place is a great diet plan for me. I don’t mind their food, and quite enjoy many aspects of it, but I somehow lose my desire to eat. Resetting and restarting everything provided some relief, but the connections here in the village are abysmal, at best. Now, with everyone well into slumber and my daily duty fulfilled, I will take my bucket shower under the starry skies, slink under my mosquito netting, and see if I can catch a few hours sleep before that friggin’ rooster starts his daily routine.
Sunday, April 8, 2012
Bret, Back in Kenya
Bret has returned to Kenya, and will be there for the month of April. There is an expedition arriving mid-month, and many projects will be carried out over the next few weeks. It will be an exciting time in the Koins area.
___________________
It was almost two years ago that Leah Njoroge, a representative of Safari.com, came down to the village area from Nairobi to inspect the work that Koins had performed with the funds they had granted us through one of that company's initiatives to construct latrines in the bush. She came down during one of our expeditions and was able to not only perform her inspections, but look into the eyes of Koins through our excited guests from the U.S., as well as through those whom we serve. Leah admitted that she was not prepared to be moved by what she experienced, even though she had been engaged with other organizations. She saw the mutual love between the wazungu (white people) and the Africans, and how we worked together in such harmony to accomplish our objectives. It was at this point that Leah placed a Koins pin on her life's map. Over the next 20 months Leah took time off from work when expeditions were in town. She made the lengthy trip to our village and helped us with our projects. She became friends with many of the locals, keeping in contact with them even when she was far away in Nairobi.
About a year ago the goal of having our long-time Executive Director, Anthony Yama, enter politics was realized. Anthony, through his work with Koins, has become the most popular and influential person in our large, expanding geographic area. With just over a year to prepare of his run for office, the search for his replacement began. The job Anthony had performed for nearly a decade was done gradually, learning with each step Koins took. Our original construction projects had mistakes that have been addressed and corrected. Our stumbling blocks with the government have been hurdled, and the issues that used to give us headaches have become items that we laugh about now. However, the job has developed in multiples and his areas of responsibility have expanded immeasurably. We began with a couple of classroom buildings, and now our work encompasses water development, agriculture, micro-businesses, and our continued construction project of schools, latrines, water cisterns, and desks for our schools. We have provided hundreds of scholarships for our gifted children, improved local dispensaries with supplies and training, sponsored in-training for teachers and village mothers, and become such a part of the local landscape that all the people who live in our many communities refer to the village where we are centered as Koins Village.
We interviewed a variety of talented individuals who wanted to work with Koins. All of them were spectacular people with strengths in a wide swath of topics. But, none of them left us inspired like our visitor from Safari.com.
After the typical long voyage from Utah, I arrived on Friday night in Nairobi. As the crowd shuffled from the airplane they were directed to the passport control, heading to the left at the opening of the jetway. This is the most painful part of the Nairobi airport because they are always short-handed and the paperwork is all done by hand. I scooted to the opposite direction because I've been through every part of the airport and know the shortcuts. Arriving ahead of everyone, I was second in line, passed through quickly, and grabbed my bags that were, for the first time in the history of all my Kenyan travels, waiting for me on the luggage belt. With this sequence of events I felt invincible.
Early Saturday morning Leah and I picked up Ken Schultz, a guy from New Jersey that does some humanitarian work in Kenya. We had planned on driving to the town of Thika where Leah was born and raised. It is also where three of our scholarship students are attending University, including my favorite village student, Purity Mrabu. We went directly to campus where Purity Mrabu was waiting for us at the front gates. Her radiant smile becomes larger with every day that passes, and she is so visibly thrilled to see us that I cannot help but smile with her. She and Dzombo crammed into our car and off to Tusky's, the Albertson's of Kenya, we went.
We visited each aisle, carefully examining the shelves which are filled with every necessity for even a modern shopper. Even though Purity now resides in this medium-sized town, she would never shop in this store. We filled our carts with all the food stuffs that would take these three to the end of the semester. Purity saw packages of pasta and proudly boasted how she had learned how to cook it from our Queen of the Kitchen, Mama Emily. When I told her she could buy some, 8 packages were quickly placed in the cart. We approached the clear bags of sugar and I could almost see her shudder with possible anticipation. When I told her "one bag," she uncharacteristically clapped, then selected the largest bag she could find. Hey, I told her one and she stuck to it. Flour, corn meal, bars of soap, cooking oil, all went into the cart. Toothpaste and a new brush were added, then as we passed the "Women's" section, I told her to take what she needed. Instead of a grateful smile, her face took on the look of someone who was relieved that something unpleasant had been lifted from them. I found a small cooler that had a few Diet Cokes in the back. Now I was smiling as much as the students and slowly sipped the sweet nectar while we finished buying fruits and vegetables and checked out.
These kids study so hard that they actually forget to eat. Purity lost significant weight when she first arrived at University because her drive to succeed was stronger than her pangs of hunger. Her report cards clearly demonstrated her dedication, but it was taking a toll. We had invested so much in this young girl's education that we couldn't see her faltering because of malnutrition, so we went against our mantra and began sending funds for fruits, meat, and greens. She has gained her weight back, is strong as ever, and her results at exam time would shame even the highest achievers.
After a couple of enjoyable hours with these stellar kids, we hoisted their treasures and walked them to their dormitories. Genuine, glaring gratitude is such an understatement when describing the sentiment I feel when I'm with our stars from the village. From here we drove across town to a small, humble home surrounded by a tall block wall and thick gate of steel. This is where Leah's mother lives and family members had gathered. They were saying their good-byes and had prepared a feast for us. I immediately directed my attention to the small kids in this tiny place and became good friends with Leah's niece, Njeri. Leah has a loving family who genuinely care for her. She's the baby of the family, so having her move away is a strange thought. They are fully supportive of what she is doing and are now members of the Koins family.
The journey back to Nairobi was quick since it was Saturday. My head was foggy from lack of sleep and the monstrous time change, so Leah went to stay with her sister and I retired to the stiff bed at the hotel.
Easter morning was just as noisy under my window as any other. It had rained and the air was just cool enough to warrant a blanket as I opened the sliding glass door to my stuffy room. Leah called to let me know the truck was on the way to pick us up, then we would head to her house and move all of her belongings. Luckily the weather cooperated, giving us a window without a drop falling on her stuff as we went up and down the uneven stairwell. She had prepared all the boxes ahead of time, and with the help of two gate guards from her complex, we were fully loaded in just a couple of hours. As she locked the gate I asked her if she was going to miss this place. Her response was "of course, but I'm also too excited to go to the village." She had arranged for a friend to take over her lease, so she took the key, placed it into a small plastic bag, and hid it in a small hole at the base of the wall, then placed a large rock on top of it. She called her friend and told her where she could find it, turned to me and the driver and ordered us to go. She was moving on, she is happy and excited, so the departure was not difficult.
The truck dropped us off near the airport and continued on. He had 10 hours drive ahead of him and could not get out of Nairobi fast enough. Our flight was on time, we boarded the plane, and off to Mombasa we went. Upon landing we exited the plane and the heat was like a stiff club hitting you. Glands that had been inactive kicked on and sweat began wetting my skin. It may be autumn in Kenya, but it's still hot and steamy here on the coast. Buffalo came to pick us up as Anthony no longer has sight at night. Having an eye exam and possible cataract surgery during his next visit to the U.S. is a must. He'll be required to travel during dark hours for his political work, so he'll need to tackle this issue somehow. We made it to the village in record time. I drove because Buffalo prefers my driving at night (scary thought), and 56 minutes after putting the car in drive, we were pulling up to the Koins Center. There was NOBODY on the road, and it felt wonderful. Unfortunately I will feel the sting of clogged traffic arteries and jams for the remainder of my visit when forced to go to town. I'll enjoy the record-setting time while it lasts.
As I began unpacking and arranging my bedroom at the KCC I noticed several items missing. I asked Mama Emily if she knew where they might be, as she always does my laundry once I depart. She was worried that something may have disappeared under her watch, but I told her not to worry. Buffalo knocked on my door and began to recount what had happened to some of my things. I guess that with my head injury I was giving all kinds of things away to staff and village friends as I departed in early February. He says that tomorrow when I'm taking breakfast I'll probably see a few of the t-shirts, kanga cloths, and hats that I thought were missing as they are worn by those to whom I gave them.
It's good to be back.
BVL
___________________
It was almost two years ago that Leah Njoroge, a representative of Safari.com, came down to the village area from Nairobi to inspect the work that Koins had performed with the funds they had granted us through one of that company's initiatives to construct latrines in the bush. She came down during one of our expeditions and was able to not only perform her inspections, but look into the eyes of Koins through our excited guests from the U.S., as well as through those whom we serve. Leah admitted that she was not prepared to be moved by what she experienced, even though she had been engaged with other organizations. She saw the mutual love between the wazungu (white people) and the Africans, and how we worked together in such harmony to accomplish our objectives. It was at this point that Leah placed a Koins pin on her life's map. Over the next 20 months Leah took time off from work when expeditions were in town. She made the lengthy trip to our village and helped us with our projects. She became friends with many of the locals, keeping in contact with them even when she was far away in Nairobi.
About a year ago the goal of having our long-time Executive Director, Anthony Yama, enter politics was realized. Anthony, through his work with Koins, has become the most popular and influential person in our large, expanding geographic area. With just over a year to prepare of his run for office, the search for his replacement began. The job Anthony had performed for nearly a decade was done gradually, learning with each step Koins took. Our original construction projects had mistakes that have been addressed and corrected. Our stumbling blocks with the government have been hurdled, and the issues that used to give us headaches have become items that we laugh about now. However, the job has developed in multiples and his areas of responsibility have expanded immeasurably. We began with a couple of classroom buildings, and now our work encompasses water development, agriculture, micro-businesses, and our continued construction project of schools, latrines, water cisterns, and desks for our schools. We have provided hundreds of scholarships for our gifted children, improved local dispensaries with supplies and training, sponsored in-training for teachers and village mothers, and become such a part of the local landscape that all the people who live in our many communities refer to the village where we are centered as Koins Village.
We interviewed a variety of talented individuals who wanted to work with Koins. All of them were spectacular people with strengths in a wide swath of topics. But, none of them left us inspired like our visitor from Safari.com.
After the typical long voyage from Utah, I arrived on Friday night in Nairobi. As the crowd shuffled from the airplane they were directed to the passport control, heading to the left at the opening of the jetway. This is the most painful part of the Nairobi airport because they are always short-handed and the paperwork is all done by hand. I scooted to the opposite direction because I've been through every part of the airport and know the shortcuts. Arriving ahead of everyone, I was second in line, passed through quickly, and grabbed my bags that were, for the first time in the history of all my Kenyan travels, waiting for me on the luggage belt. With this sequence of events I felt invincible.
Early Saturday morning Leah and I picked up Ken Schultz, a guy from New Jersey that does some humanitarian work in Kenya. We had planned on driving to the town of Thika where Leah was born and raised. It is also where three of our scholarship students are attending University, including my favorite village student, Purity Mrabu. We went directly to campus where Purity Mrabu was waiting for us at the front gates. Her radiant smile becomes larger with every day that passes, and she is so visibly thrilled to see us that I cannot help but smile with her. She and Dzombo crammed into our car and off to Tusky's, the Albertson's of Kenya, we went.
We visited each aisle, carefully examining the shelves which are filled with every necessity for even a modern shopper. Even though Purity now resides in this medium-sized town, she would never shop in this store. We filled our carts with all the food stuffs that would take these three to the end of the semester. Purity saw packages of pasta and proudly boasted how she had learned how to cook it from our Queen of the Kitchen, Mama Emily. When I told her she could buy some, 8 packages were quickly placed in the cart. We approached the clear bags of sugar and I could almost see her shudder with possible anticipation. When I told her "one bag," she uncharacteristically clapped, then selected the largest bag she could find. Hey, I told her one and she stuck to it. Flour, corn meal, bars of soap, cooking oil, all went into the cart. Toothpaste and a new brush were added, then as we passed the "Women's" section, I told her to take what she needed. Instead of a grateful smile, her face took on the look of someone who was relieved that something unpleasant had been lifted from them. I found a small cooler that had a few Diet Cokes in the back. Now I was smiling as much as the students and slowly sipped the sweet nectar while we finished buying fruits and vegetables and checked out.
These kids study so hard that they actually forget to eat. Purity lost significant weight when she first arrived at University because her drive to succeed was stronger than her pangs of hunger. Her report cards clearly demonstrated her dedication, but it was taking a toll. We had invested so much in this young girl's education that we couldn't see her faltering because of malnutrition, so we went against our mantra and began sending funds for fruits, meat, and greens. She has gained her weight back, is strong as ever, and her results at exam time would shame even the highest achievers.
After a couple of enjoyable hours with these stellar kids, we hoisted their treasures and walked them to their dormitories. Genuine, glaring gratitude is such an understatement when describing the sentiment I feel when I'm with our stars from the village. From here we drove across town to a small, humble home surrounded by a tall block wall and thick gate of steel. This is where Leah's mother lives and family members had gathered. They were saying their good-byes and had prepared a feast for us. I immediately directed my attention to the small kids in this tiny place and became good friends with Leah's niece, Njeri. Leah has a loving family who genuinely care for her. She's the baby of the family, so having her move away is a strange thought. They are fully supportive of what she is doing and are now members of the Koins family.
The journey back to Nairobi was quick since it was Saturday. My head was foggy from lack of sleep and the monstrous time change, so Leah went to stay with her sister and I retired to the stiff bed at the hotel.
Easter morning was just as noisy under my window as any other. It had rained and the air was just cool enough to warrant a blanket as I opened the sliding glass door to my stuffy room. Leah called to let me know the truck was on the way to pick us up, then we would head to her house and move all of her belongings. Luckily the weather cooperated, giving us a window without a drop falling on her stuff as we went up and down the uneven stairwell. She had prepared all the boxes ahead of time, and with the help of two gate guards from her complex, we were fully loaded in just a couple of hours. As she locked the gate I asked her if she was going to miss this place. Her response was "of course, but I'm also too excited to go to the village." She had arranged for a friend to take over her lease, so she took the key, placed it into a small plastic bag, and hid it in a small hole at the base of the wall, then placed a large rock on top of it. She called her friend and told her where she could find it, turned to me and the driver and ordered us to go. She was moving on, she is happy and excited, so the departure was not difficult.
The truck dropped us off near the airport and continued on. He had 10 hours drive ahead of him and could not get out of Nairobi fast enough. Our flight was on time, we boarded the plane, and off to Mombasa we went. Upon landing we exited the plane and the heat was like a stiff club hitting you. Glands that had been inactive kicked on and sweat began wetting my skin. It may be autumn in Kenya, but it's still hot and steamy here on the coast. Buffalo came to pick us up as Anthony no longer has sight at night. Having an eye exam and possible cataract surgery during his next visit to the U.S. is a must. He'll be required to travel during dark hours for his political work, so he'll need to tackle this issue somehow. We made it to the village in record time. I drove because Buffalo prefers my driving at night (scary thought), and 56 minutes after putting the car in drive, we were pulling up to the Koins Center. There was NOBODY on the road, and it felt wonderful. Unfortunately I will feel the sting of clogged traffic arteries and jams for the remainder of my visit when forced to go to town. I'll enjoy the record-setting time while it lasts.
As I began unpacking and arranging my bedroom at the KCC I noticed several items missing. I asked Mama Emily if she knew where they might be, as she always does my laundry once I depart. She was worried that something may have disappeared under her watch, but I told her not to worry. Buffalo knocked on my door and began to recount what had happened to some of my things. I guess that with my head injury I was giving all kinds of things away to staff and village friends as I departed in early February. He says that tomorrow when I'm taking breakfast I'll probably see a few of the t-shirts, kanga cloths, and hats that I thought were missing as they are worn by those to whom I gave them.
It's good to be back.
BVL
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Another Kenya Blog to Follow
We have had a bit of a lull in reporting activity in Kenya. Bret returned home in early February and recuperated from his motorcycle accident and concussion. There has been much activity going on behind the scenes, with an April expedition heading to Kenya in 2 weeks.
There is a family going to Kenya with Koins in July, the Skonnard's, who are keeping a blog about their experience. You can follow it here: http://kenyakronicles.wordpress.com/
They also have a facebook page you can follow and "like": http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Kenya-Kronicles/259326427494021
It should be an interesting perspective, as the adults will be with the regular expedition group, and the teens will be part of the Youth Leadership expedition, which I expect to be an amazing and incredible journey for all involved.
Asante sana!
IVL
There is a family going to Kenya with Koins in July, the Skonnard's, who are keeping a blog about their experience. You can follow it here: http://kenyakronicles.wordpress.com/
They also have a facebook page you can follow and "like": http://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Kenya-Kronicles/259326427494021
It should be an interesting perspective, as the adults will be with the regular expedition group, and the teens will be part of the Youth Leadership expedition, which I expect to be an amazing and incredible journey for all involved.
Asante sana!
IVL
Monday, February 6, 2012
Orion Jr. High Fundraiser
Students at Orion Jr. High raise funds for a well in Kenya
Koins received a check over the weekend from Orion Jr. High School in Harrisville, Utah for just over $2,500. I corresponded by email with the principal of Orion, Kirt Swalberg, and this is what he told me about the fundraiser:
"It was a whole school effort. We showed part of your video clip about what the Kenyans had to do to get clean water and then I challenged them to raise $ 2,500 for a well. We had a 7th period class competition to see which class could bring in the most money. Our leadership hung up posters and promoted the project. The students had a great time and were excited to help. We look forward to seeing pictures of the well. It will be a nice thing for our students to see that they did make a difference."
What a pleasure it is to see young people making an effort to help those less fortunate. Their efforts will provide a fresh water well to a rural village in Kenya, allowing the women of that village to access clean water more easily. Their efforts will provide a life changing water source to an entire village.
 |
| A Kenyan woman walking home after fetching water from a pond |
Asante sana, Orion!
IVL
Monday, January 30, 2012
Malaria Season - Chirongo at the Dispensary
Bret is still in Kenya, this post exemplifies the problem with malaria in Africa. So many people die from it, and it is as common as getting a head cold is to American's.
___________________________________
A common habit for me is to check in at the dispensary on my way to the shamba (farm). I've been able to help with so many things that I really enjoy it when I can pitch in and help. Today I went there to see if one of the nurses could change the dressing on my head wounds, which they did. But when I entered the room to be treated I saw a 3 year old boy named Chirongo lying on the table. Joy said that his blood tests were being done to determine if he had malaria so they could begin his treatments. We've had such a breakout here of this lethal disease that it's quite scary, but with all the rains they received last month and all the small pools of water lying stagnant, there's no wonder.
Chirongo was unconscious with a high fever of 103. He was dropped off by his mother, and while he lay there motionless, she had to return back to her hut to take care of other children. Her husband died last year, and this is her baby, but there are two others who also needed caring for, and she had no option. Naomi told her to come back in four hours.
I ran the palm of my hand up his small back, feeling his burning skin. His head appeared even hotter. I dampened a rag and gently moistened his skin. We positioned him under a window where a gentle breeze could help cool him. I could not help but try and see my own grandsons of similar age in that same position. No matter how hard I tried to paint this mental picture, I could not fathom them being alone in a dispensary, suffering from a deadly and painful sickness, wondering if the effective treatment would be available today.
The nurses were busy with the dozens of other patients that lined up outside the small doors of this place, and I simply could not leave this beautiful young boy. I continued cooling him with water and making him as comfortable as I could. Except for the faint movements of taking a breath, he was lifeless. The test came back positive, so treatment for malaria began immediately. The dose they needed to give Chirongo was so big that they actually gave him two injections, one in each hip. As Joy inserted the long needle into his flesh, the boy didn't stir at all. His flesh had cooled significantly and his temperature had come down below 100. The second injection was prepared, and I turned him to give Joy access to the other hip. Again, no movement of any kind. I asked Joy if she thought he would be okay. She has seen hundreds and hundreds of these cases, so I trusted her assessment. She basically said that we would know in an hour.
They changed my dressings and it felt great to allow some air to get to my scalp. I haven't seen what the wounds look like except in a photo, but they told me that they are looking good, so I'll take them at their word. I wanted to get back to Chirongo. Within the hour, almost exactly as Joy had predicted, Chirongo began stirring. He was sick, but he was coming out of his stupor. After some time he finally looked up at the person stroking his back and head. He didn't have the energy to truly cry, but he was confused and a white man was not what he expected to see, so he began to whimper. Joy was close by, so she came and said something to him in his mother tongue. I remained close by, continuing to keep his body cool. Although he was scared at the thought of a strange, white man nearby, hopefully it was the small amount of comfort I was providing that kept him from reacting further.
As Chirongo's strength returned, so did his loving mother. They were both glad to see each other, and as quickly as she entered into the room, the two of them were gone, walking the dusty path towards a neighboring village. Chirongo watched me from his mothers shoulder as they walked away. I waved. He closed his eyes and buried his head in the neck of his mother. She needed to get back home and fetch water before dusk.
BVL
___________________________________
A common habit for me is to check in at the dispensary on my way to the shamba (farm). I've been able to help with so many things that I really enjoy it when I can pitch in and help. Today I went there to see if one of the nurses could change the dressing on my head wounds, which they did. But when I entered the room to be treated I saw a 3 year old boy named Chirongo lying on the table. Joy said that his blood tests were being done to determine if he had malaria so they could begin his treatments. We've had such a breakout here of this lethal disease that it's quite scary, but with all the rains they received last month and all the small pools of water lying stagnant, there's no wonder.
 |
| Chirongo in the dispensary |
Chirongo was unconscious with a high fever of 103. He was dropped off by his mother, and while he lay there motionless, she had to return back to her hut to take care of other children. Her husband died last year, and this is her baby, but there are two others who also needed caring for, and she had no option. Naomi told her to come back in four hours.
I ran the palm of my hand up his small back, feeling his burning skin. His head appeared even hotter. I dampened a rag and gently moistened his skin. We positioned him under a window where a gentle breeze could help cool him. I could not help but try and see my own grandsons of similar age in that same position. No matter how hard I tried to paint this mental picture, I could not fathom them being alone in a dispensary, suffering from a deadly and painful sickness, wondering if the effective treatment would be available today.
The nurses were busy with the dozens of other patients that lined up outside the small doors of this place, and I simply could not leave this beautiful young boy. I continued cooling him with water and making him as comfortable as I could. Except for the faint movements of taking a breath, he was lifeless. The test came back positive, so treatment for malaria began immediately. The dose they needed to give Chirongo was so big that they actually gave him two injections, one in each hip. As Joy inserted the long needle into his flesh, the boy didn't stir at all. His flesh had cooled significantly and his temperature had come down below 100. The second injection was prepared, and I turned him to give Joy access to the other hip. Again, no movement of any kind. I asked Joy if she thought he would be okay. She has seen hundreds and hundreds of these cases, so I trusted her assessment. She basically said that we would know in an hour.
They changed my dressings and it felt great to allow some air to get to my scalp. I haven't seen what the wounds look like except in a photo, but they told me that they are looking good, so I'll take them at their word. I wanted to get back to Chirongo. Within the hour, almost exactly as Joy had predicted, Chirongo began stirring. He was sick, but he was coming out of his stupor. After some time he finally looked up at the person stroking his back and head. He didn't have the energy to truly cry, but he was confused and a white man was not what he expected to see, so he began to whimper. Joy was close by, so she came and said something to him in his mother tongue. I remained close by, continuing to keep his body cool. Although he was scared at the thought of a strange, white man nearby, hopefully it was the small amount of comfort I was providing that kept him from reacting further.
As Chirongo's strength returned, so did his loving mother. They were both glad to see each other, and as quickly as she entered into the room, the two of them were gone, walking the dusty path towards a neighboring village. Chirongo watched me from his mothers shoulder as they walked away. I waved. He closed his eyes and buried his head in the neck of his mother. She needed to get back home and fetch water before dusk.
BVL
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