2006 Kenya Journal

Wednesday, 8/30/06

Good Shepherd Retreat Center, Meerhof, South Africa

I am in the 4^th day of the 2006 AVP (Alternatives to Violence Project) International Gathering in Meerhof, a village about 40 miles from Pretoria, South Africa. This Friday night I will depart on a red-eye flight for Nairobi, along with my Kenyan colleagues/AVP facilitators. It feels wonderful to be back on African soil again in less than a year’s time. I would never have imagined it possible only a few years back – that I would be making this journey in life, living this great adventure!

I am sitting on a large flagstone terrace adjacent to the dining hall. It is situated among flowering tropical plants and trees and overlooks a beautiful expansive valley that encompasses a huge dam flowing out from tall mountains on the other side. It’s a paradise! Each night we watch the setting sun over the water and valley below while meeting with our “home groups” before dinner.

The idyllic physical environs mirror the richness and wonderful diversity of the people with whom I share this experience. We are 120 conferees from 23 countries over all 6 continents. At least a dozen African countries are represented. I struggle to find the words to capture my experience of the last several days. In workshop settings, over meals, or in spontaneous conversations, we share stories, ideas, and experiences with people from many different cultures, religious and ethnic backgrounds. We all come together out of our common AVP training and experience, and many of us are Quakers (though our Quaker traditions and practices may vary widely). So we are discovering that, as multi-cultural international brothers and sisters, we share more in common than not. I know I should not find this surprising, yet knowing it intellectually is very different from the experiential gratification and wonder of that inter-connectedness. This venue has somehow created a space for people – most who have come from half-way around the world to meet each other for the first time – to open up and be real with one another.

I had a conversation with a South African Quaker man who was interested in hearing about my experience of living in an intentional Quaker-oriented community. I told him about our community’s “no gossip rule” and the transforming impact it has had on our families, including the children. He was so inspired by this that he said he plans to take the idea back to his own Quaker community of eight families. I met a young Muslim women, Enis, from Darfur in Sudan, who is a member of our “home group”, a group of 8 people who gather to reflect on our experiences at the end of each day. On our first day in response to the query, “what does ‘home’ mean to you”, she said that being at her home is not a happy time now, explaining with tears in her eyes that they open the door each morning to more bodies lying in the street, next to the body bags of the day before. Since hearing this, I have not been able to get Enis’s words out of my head. The amazing thing is, except for this one comment she is someone who is full of such positive energy and enthusiasm, reaching out to everyone here with a wonderful spontaneity and lightness of being. She and another Sudanese man have started an AVP program in Darfur, where they have managed to hold 14 community AVP workshops within a 10 month period.

I have finally met the AVP coordinators from Rwanda and Burundi who I have been reading and hearing about over the last 2 years, those who are working with Friends Peace Teams’ African Great Lakes Initiative (AGLI) partner organizations in those countries. I am now hearing, first-hand, the numerous accounts of bringing together victims and perpetrators of the genocides in those two countries (through AVP and trauma healing and reconciliation workshops) – individual stories of people re-uniting after 12 years. One of several examples was shared of a Tutsi Rwandan woman who, after completing the AVP training, gave some clothes her children had outgrown to the Hutu children who lived next door. These neighbors had not spoken to each other since the 1994 genocide. In return, the men of this neighbor family offered to spend an entire week cultivating this woman’s land.

Saturday, 9/2/06, Nairobi

I am in Kenya. Mimi niki salama sana! (I am very well!) Getry Agizah, my dear friend and AVP co-facilitator from last year, and I are staying once again in Malesi Kinaro’s Nairobi home over the next week. Malesi is the Executive Director of Friends’ for Peace and Community Development, AGLI’s partner organization in Kenya. The three of us, together with Janet Ifedha, will form an peace team to deliver an AVP Training for Trainers (T4T) workshop beginning this Thursday for a group of youth from the Friends youth organization, UZIMA – the same group we took through a basic and advanced level AVP last year.

The conference in South Africa was unforgettable – one of those pinch me – is this real! experiences. I have been given and African name. Mimi ni naitwa (I am called) Mpoole, which means “gentle one” in Kiswahili. Through out the week I was struck by a number of things: I have made friends from all over the world. I have exchanged email addresses with a few; many I will never see again. Nonetheless, we made deep and lasting connections. Our African friends would spontaneously erupt in song and dance, often traditional spiritual ballads. I love the beat and harmony of African music! There was much drumming as well. On our last night we celebrated with a traditional South African meal and entertainment, including a beautiful children’s choir from Soweto, and a series of performances by a group of about 30 teens from the HIPP Club (Help Increase the Peace – a youth version of AVP), also from Soweto. They danced, sang and put on skits – an incredible array of talent. By the end of the night all of us were singing, dancing, and drumming together in a frenzied rush of adrenalin, so high on all the love and connections made over the last five days.

On Thursday Malesi and I put on a workshop on the topic: Beyond AVP – Sustainability Issues. I had no idea I would be conducting a workshop until 2 days before leaving for Africa when I happened to notice my name on the program! Apparently Malesi thought she had consulted with me. So of course I had no time to prepare nor had she, as it turned out. Every day of the conference had been packed full of so many fascinating things to see and do, that in the end we had about 45 minutes to plan on the night before our morning workshop. I really surprised myself by not panicking. I must have been running on all the positive energy of the previous 4 days. I had a surge of confidence that all would be well; and knowing Malesi, I had much faith in her abilities as well. The workshop went exceptionally well! We each spoke from our own experience of AVP in Kenya and how the program itself fosters community-building and trust. So that some communities are taking ownership and finding creative ways toward self-sustainability without dependence on outside funding – not an easy task in a country where the average income is a dollar a day. This generated much discussion and brainstorming of ideas on the potential impact that AVP can have within communities, beyond the training itself.

Monday, 9/4/06, Nairobi

Yesterday, Getry and I attended an un-programmed Friends meeting for worship at the Friends International Center in Nairobi. It is one of only a few silent meetings in all of Kenya. It was a small gathering of mostly Kenyans but included two Americans, one person from the UK and one Asian woman. The service felt very familiar – like any typical Quaker meeting in the US. We were greeted very warmly. Following worship everyone came up and introduced themselves, showing great interest in the work we were doing with AVP.

After meeting we took a bus to visit one of the Nairobi AVP facilitators, Hezron, who is also a good friend of Getry’s and who had been with us at the conference in South Africa. The bus took us through a very poor section of the city, homes that were merely shacks constructed of corrugated tin. Hezron and his family live just on the edge of this neighborhood in a 3^rd floor walk-up apartment. Their home is very basic – 2 or 3 rooms plus a small kitchen. In this area electricity and tap water are available on a sporadic basis. Despite these conditions, their sitting room was warm and comfortable with cushioned chairs and a sofa arranged around 2 low coffee-type tables where tea and meals are served.

Hezron works for an NGO organization focusing on youth empowerment and leadership skills. He and his wife Cynthia have a 2 year old son and a 10 day old baby boy. Our visit turned out to be nearly 4 hours! Apparently this was the day everyone – extended family members and friends – wanted to pay a visit to see the new baby. We were first served tea and cakes, then more people came and soda and cookies were brought to the table. Some folks left but even more arrived. All were dressed in their Sunday best – most in traditional African dress – having come from church. Getry and I were finally about to leave when we were informed the meal was about to be served! I had filled up on cake and cookies, thinking this would be my only lunch…it was now after 3pm. Of course we stayed, as it would be considered impolite to have left at that point. So we feasted on rice, beans, cabbage and a bit of beef. All was very tasty although the beef is rather tough (everywhere) so I ate very little. It is hard to refuse because meat is rarely served, only on special occasions.

It was a delightful visit. Although most of the conversation was in Kiswahili, I enjoyed observing the warm and enthusiastic interaction among all. I learned a few more Kiswahili words and phrases from Hezron’s wife who provided paper for me to write them on. People really appreciate one’s attempts to learn their language.

Sunday, 9/10/06, Nairobi

We finished up the T4T workshop yesterday. It was a hugely satisfying experience. AVP is an experiential, and therefore highly participatory, training model. It is designed to build a level of community, safety, and trust so that, at the end of the day, many participants have opened up and risked sharing from a deep place. They do this in small groups, through role plays, and finally, in large group discussions. These 14 young people we have worked with over the last three days are truly amazing. Although most of them know each other pretty well from their involvement in UZIMA activities, their bond has surely deepened, as evidenced by behavior during our final sessions. Yesterday after lunch we had a gathering exercise where we went around the circle and answered the question, “How has violence affected me in my life?” Many passed the first time around, but in the end all had stories to tell. In every instance memories were shared relating to some form of family violence – most of these were varied accounts of fathers beating their wives, in the presence of children. There were also varied stories of child abuse and the actions of cruel uncles following the death of a father. As Malesi commented to me later, the pain and suffering was palpable – you could almost touch it. After all had shared, I was moved to ask us to join hands for a moment of silence. It was a sacred moment.

Today, Sunday, Malesi’s two daughters, Winnie and Lina, Lina’s daughter Toma, and Malesi’s nephew, Keboy, all went to the programmed worship service of the Friends Church, adjacent to the Friends International Center where we attended silent worship last Sunday. The interior of the church is spacious and impressive, easily three stories high with surrounding balconies and lots of natural light. This was Monthly Meeting worship, meaning all of the “Village Meeting” congregations attend this service once a month. Several hundred people filled the pews. The service was almost entirely in Kiswahili and lasted over 2 ½ hours! However, about a third of it was devoted to selections from two separate choirs and congregational singing. Once again I loved the music. There is something about African spiritual music…it feels like a close cousin to our gospel music, or old-time Negro spirituals. It seems to resonate with me on a deep level. The rhythm, melody, and unique sound of African voices and language combine to create what for me is truly sacred. These sounds, accompanied by live drumming, filled the huge sanctuary and all those present with such intensity that you could almost see Spirit moving through and connecting one and all.

Tuesday, 9/12/06, Kenyenya

We are in Kisii, Nyanza Province, in the village of Kenyenya, in southwestern Kenya. This is a very remote region of the country, high in the mountains on the other side of the Great Rift Valley. Malesi, Janet, Getry and I traveled here yesterday from Nairobi. It was yet one more unforgettable – and regrettable – Kenyan traveling marathon. Even the others, quite used to travel conditions here, agreed it was a very long and difficult journey. We rose at 6:30 pm and arrived around 8:30 at this kind of informal depot where a great number of matatus (mini-buses) and larger buses were parked in a very haphazard manner. It was total chaos. We were immediately swarmed by a group of 10-12 men that began beating the sides of the car, hassling us to take their vehicle. I quickly learned that these people were not the drivers themselves, but are actually paid to hassle prospective customers. They are also known to give one price that often changes once you’re in the vehicle and on your way.

We had no choice but to get out of the car, and as the crowd thickened around us, I became even more alarmed. Janet came and wrapped Malesi’s coat around me to protect my backpack and purse. Eventually a price was negotiated on a bus that we were later quite sorry we had taken. The bus already appeared crowded after all of our luggage was loaded in between seats and crammed into the overhead compartments (there was no separate luggage area). We sat for another half hour before taking off, while more people – and their bags – came aboard. By the time the bus was pulling out there was quite literally no space to move. There were children separated from their parents, babies sitting in the laps of strangers, luggage lining the aisles, and smaller bags under people’s feet. We rode like this for 6 ½ hours, stopping only once about an hour into the trip for a toilet break, only there were no toilets. People found their way into the bush to relieve themselves. I opted to wait until the next stop, presumably at a rest stop or petrol station. Five hours later I was truly sorry I waited, particularly when – as expected from previous Kenyan road trips – the roads got progressively bumpier and bumpier! Only this time it was far worse. It’s impossible to imagine how bad a road can get here – from a fairly mild “washboard” effect, to major pot holes, to broken up chunks of tarmac, and finally, no tarmac at all. Only dirt, jagged rocks, and huge ruts. I found myself focusing on holding my tongue still so I wouldn’t bite it. At one point a piece of luggage from the overhead compartment was jostled loose and was about to fall on Malesi’s head, when a man on the other side of the aisle caught it just in time!

Despite these grueling conditions, we traveled through one of the world’s beautiful landscapes. Over the first leg of our journey the bus steadily climbed to a very high elevation. I was grateful the road temporarily smoothed out at about the time we approached a summit, and rounded a curve. And there it was – the Great Rift Valley in all its splendor – a breathtaking view of this great expansive slice of earth that astronauts can see from space, which extends from Ethiopia in the north, through all of Kenya into the Masaii Mara, and the Great Serengeti of Tanzania. We drove for miles winding back and forth along a ridge on a precarious 2-lane road with no visible shoulder, and an incredibly steep drop off just to the other side of the guardrail. Fortunately the road was in good shape here, allowing us to continue taking in these awesome sights.

We skirted the Masaii Mara, glimpsing the occasional Masaii tribesman, with his colorful bright red-orange shucka and herding stick, among the village markets and with small herds of cattle. Near the final stretch of the journey we traveled through fields and fields of Kenyan tea crops on either side of the highway and up mountain slopes. The fields were interlaced with groves of banana trees and vibrant splashes of color from tall flowering trees in full bloom – purple, mustard yellow and flame-red.

Thursday, 9/14/06

The scenic beauty I wrote of in the above entry is descriptive of the land that now

surrounds us at the family home and compound of Malesi’s husband, John. We are staying in the charming 5-room home that they built on the family land. It sits on a hill with a view of the tea fields climbing up the hills in the distance that are dotted with small plots of land and little houses with tin roofs reflecting the bright son. The compound includes 4 other smaller homes belonging to John’s mother and brothers. It is also inhabited by 6 cows tethered adjacent to the houses, one family goat, a flock of large black and white crow-like birds called “crones”, and a few stray cats.

After our harrowing journey from Nairobi on Monday, we found ourselves in this little paradise. We relaxed with a pot of tea, made from fresh tea leaves, and biscuits, as we watched the setting sun over the hills. The following day we started another AVP Advanced workshop with a group of 23 UZIMA participants from several youth groups in the surrounding region. Many are staying in the homes of people from this small community who have volunteered hospitality. About a third of the group come from a secondary school whose headmaster agreed to have them to attend the Advanced and T4T training, which will stretch over 5 school days. It’s hard to imagine this kind of cooperation from a school administrator back in the States. The workshops are taking place in the local primary school. We travel on foot each morning down a ½ mile footpath – a shortcut through the bush leading to the school. We are in a building that consists of one large room, quite similar to the little Anglican chapel where we did the training in Lugari Province last year, only – thankfully – this time there are no wasps nests in the ceiling rafters! We have a mud floor and bare plaster walls, no electricity, and the only furnishings are the plastic chairs we sit on. So the atmosphere is rather bleak, particularly when it’s cloudy and we barely have enough light to read the newsprint taped to the walls. But the energy and enthusiasm emanating from the group more than makes up for the drab physical environs.

I have become quite a celebrity among the school children; most have never seen a mzungu (white person) in this remote area of Kenya, except on TV. They play in the school yard during recess and after school, within a few yards from where we are meeting. Over lunch and on the way to and from the school, the younger ones giggle when I say hello, and when I go up to greet one of them and extend my hand, they jump back as though I might bite, then one may have enough nerve to offer her hand, at which time a fit of laughter and excitement breaks out among dozens of little girls. For some reason the boys are more shy. The older girls are a bit more brazen, and love to practice their English: “Hello Linda, how are you…I’m fine!” they say.

This is a government-run boarding school, which is quite common in Kenya. The children come from this rural community, but my hunch is many would have to walk for several miles if they didn’t board. No one owns a car here. Many of the homes are only accessible only by footpath. The school is very primitive by our standards. The classrooms consist of hand-made wooden desks and benches in buildings similar to the one we are meeting in, with the addition of a blackboard, but little evidence of other school supplies. There is no play equipment in the school yard, yet the children are constantly laughing and making their own fun.

Saturday, 9/16/06, Kenyenya,

Finally…a break, after four very full days of training and team planning every evening, preceded by the physically depleting trip from Nairobi on Monday. In fact, as I look back over my calendar I realize that last Sunday was our last “day of rest” since the start of our T4T in Nairobi. Tomorrow, Sunday, we will not have the luxury of another day of rest. This community is a settlement of Seventh Day Adventists, and out of consideration for them we scheduled the training on Friday, Sunday and Monday. What’s amazing is that I seem to be fueled by some kind of reserve source of energy. I’m reminded of my first trip to Kenya last year…I couldn’t believe how good I felt and this year is no different. Is it something in the air, or is it that I feel so alive here, taking in the culture, the natural beauty of the landscape, the people and their wonderful spirit, generosity, and positive outlook, despite great odds. We in the West might say they live hard lives, growing much of their own food, tilling their fields by hand, hauling water on foot, building crudely fashioned fences and sheds from chopped wood, and washing clothes outside in a plastic tub. They work very hard but there is always time for greeting neighbors and visitors, putting aside daily chores and serving tea. There is much focus on family, with generations living together on the land they share. Their faith is very strong. They build their lives around that faith, and family and community, which are all intertwined in the fabric of their daily lives. So as I take all this in and absorb it, I become part of it, if only for a short while. I cease fretting over my hard bed, or having to carry pitchers of water to dump in the back of the commode every time I use the toilet so it will flush – sort of. Or having no good light to read by after the sun goes down, and in the morning, having to bathe from a small tub of water heated on the stove. It’s just the way life is. I am living fully in the present, savoring every moment. And I’m laughing more! It’s all very healing.

Right now I am sitting on a blanket under a tree with yellow flowers, in front of Malesi’s house. She’s sitting nearby, reading. I’m listening to the birds and the distant sounds of gospel music floating over the trees from two separate S.D.A. congregations. The scene in front of me is one of family cows grazing in the center of the compound and children playing off to my right. When I came out of the house, a group of children, Malesi’s nieces and nephews, were playing under the tree. They speak very little English but they extended their hands to me. This is a traditional gesture that children learn very early. It is expected whenever you greet someone, whether it be the first thing in the morning, at the end of the day, or passing on the road or at the market.

The children hung around for a while staring at me and giggling. I had my camera with me and took their picture. They all lined up and were so proud. My back is starting to ache a bit so I think I’ll rise and take an exploratory walk. I am aware of feeling a sense of calm and serenity, a fullness that is sheer gratitude and wellness of being.

Monday, 9/18/06, Kisii

Eighteen of our 23 AVP Advanced participants went on to complete the T4T. In our final session today they were enthusiastically brainstorming ways to take the program into their own communities, schools, and youth groups. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about why AVP is so successful and in such great demand in Kenya. Malesi told me she took an informal survey recently, asking this question of folks from different parts of the country. She found they all responded with a common theme: AVP gave them an opportunity to practice and experience, in an atmosphere of established community and trust, what it feels like to be affirmed, to “love thy neighbor as thyself”, and to “love thine enemies”. People experientially embrace the core AVP concept of “Transforming Power”, or that power that is present within every individual that is capable of transforming conflict. AVP, while not claiming adherence to any one religion, is in fact very biblically-based for Kenyans, who are both overwhelmingly Christian and very strong in their faith. AVP provides people with an opportunity to channel their beliefs and put them into practice within their families and communities.

As with other training groups I’ve facilitated in Kenya, these Kisii youth collectively revealed a past consisting of a high degree of violence. Therefore I am led to conclude that another reason for the high demand for AVP is that people here are desperate for answers – alternative ways to respond to the violence in their everyday lives.

Thursday, 9/21/06, Lugari

On Tuesday, Getry, Janet and I traveled to Lugari, Western Province, the same location where we conducted a full AVP training (Basic, Advanced, and T4T) last year. We are also staying with the same host family, Florence and Alfred Machayo, who have a spacious old farmhouse surrounded by 100 sprawling acres of maize and banana trees. I’m reminded of “Old McDonald’s Farm” because the Machayo farmyard includes a menagerie of cows, chickens, pigs, geese, and one turkey. All but the pigs (confined to their pen) roam freely through the fenced-in compound surrounding the house. Since last year the Machayos have invested in a generator so we are now fortunate to have the light of one energy-saving bulb set in the ceiling of the sitting room and bedroom. Still no running water however, since leaving Nairobi. Another apprentice facilitator, Margaret, has joined us here and we all share one large bedroom.

Our journey from Kisii to Lugari on Tuesday brought more surprises. As expected we made numerous changes from one matatu to another – 5 in all – since it is not a direct or highly traveled route. In Kisumu, a town that sits on the shores of Lake Victoria, after waiting for a ½ an hour, we finally got settled onto another vehicle, with all of our baggage. We had to keep track of 5 pieces of luggage – piled on top of the van – and 4 “carry-ons” (on our laps). We were waiting for this matatu to pull out while being hassled by vendors at our windows carrying baskets of biscuits, oranges, bananas, cheap watches, pens, dishrags/towels, etc! (This is quite common at any stops in the larger towns.) Then Getry overheard a conversation between another rider and the matatu conductor, and became aware that we had been misled – we were about to depart for Eldoret, a different route that by-passed our Lugari destination entirely. So we immediately protested and dragged ourselves and all our many bags off and onto yet another matatu. When we arrived in Kakamega, where we broke for a very late lunch, we had a very unsettling realization – Getry’s suitcase, with all of her clothes and shoes (from 3 weeks of travel), was missing. In all the confusion of changing vehicles in Kisumu, we never noticed that it got left behind – or stolen. This would be a major hardship for any average Kenyan, but Getry’s work as AGLI representative and AVP trainer requires her to travel extensively and dress professionally. I was struck by the way she handled this loss. Following the initial shock and disappointment, she just accepted and let it go. After taking an extra hour or so in Kakamega for Getry to purchase several changes of clothing from a second-hand shop, and a pair of shoes I bought for her, we were on our way again and, finally, laughing about the incident with the Machayos that evening as we recounted our adventures.

Friday, 9/22/06, Lugari

We have completed the Advanced workshop here, certifying 10 participants. A small group and very different from both our Nairobi and Kisii groups. The men were mostly farmers and the women, caring for children at home. As a whole these people were less sophisticated and had less formal education, requiring us tailor our agenda to their understanding. Several were not fluent in English, so Getry expended much energy in translating English to Kiswahili. However they grasped the concepts well in the end. Surprisingly we found that they possess a high level of interest and understanding in the many new ideas and approaches that are presented to them. So that their attention span is considerably longer than our other groups. With their many questions and comments, our processing and group discussions continue well beyond any I’ve ever been a part of with AVP groups both here and in the US. It’s as though they want so much to understand each new concept and idea, that their energy level and intense curiosity carries and sustains them.

Once again, as trust built up within this group, we began to hear their stories. One example came from a man who spoke of an experience he had after he had completed the basic workshop. He overheard a violent fight erupting at a neighbor’s home between a man and his wife. He stated that he suddenly felt compelled to rush next door, where he found the man with a stick in his hand about to strike, and the woman reaching for a pot of boiling water on the stove. The children were gathered together in fright. He literally put himself between husband and wife, and was somehow able to talk them out of their fury. He told the group that he never would have had the courage to intervene in this way were it not for AVP and his newfound awareness that he could draw upon this inward (transformative) power to act. Following the incident, he told us that he sat down with his friends to talk, apparently serving as a mediator, while they all took tea together. One may question the validity of a story such as this, except for the fact that so many similar accounts are shared in one workshop after another.

We begin the second advanced workshop tomorrow – back to back, 6 days in a row, 8:00am to 4:00pm. Strangely enough my energy and stamina continues to hold out. It can only be because I so love what I am doing, and that I am surrounded by the positive energy from the participants, as well as the high level of commitment and teamwork from my co-facilitators. Our working conditions have certainly not improved. The Lugari workshops are taking place in the same country chapel as last year (with the memorable wobbly wooden benches and the wasps flying overhead!). Today we were visited by a lone chicken who strolled through the front door and out the back. Later a small herd of sheep walked within a foot or two of the front stoop. We continue to contend with daily afternoon storms pouring down on the corrugated tin roof. And on some days we are forced to walk down dirt roads that have turned into thick and sloshy clay-like mud that sticks to your shoes in huge clumps.

The Machayos have a house “helper”, Betty, who is very sweet and so generous. She goes about her chores as if it is an honor and privilege to serve us. She washes our muddy shoes each day, helps Mrs. Machayo with meal preparation, and offers to wash our clothes as needed. Each night we all sit down together at a large round dining table to a delicious meal prepared by Betty and Florence. I’m determined to duplicate some of these unique dishes: cabbage prepared with onions, tomatoes, and carrots; green bananas cooked with tomatoes, onions and spices; avocado, tomato and red onion salad; greens with garlic and onions; and eggs scrambled with tomatoes, peppers, onions. What makes many of these dishes so unique is that they are flavored with one of two spice blends, mchuzi mix and masala. The vegetables are all fresh, straight from the garden or local market. Some combination of the above is often served with a small amount of beef or chicken in a stew, and either ugali, chapatti (flatbread), or rice. We are served tea every evening when we return home. Dinner is served between 7 and 8 pm. Evenings are spent with the Machayos in their spacious sitting room, around a cozy fire (it gets quite cool after the sun goes down) discussing the day’s events, reading the paper, and team de-briefing and planning after dinner. Florence and Alfred obviously take great pleasure in hosting us. They are volunteering their home and are interested and supportive of our work. Florence is coordinator of the AVP program for this region.

Monday, 9/25/06, Lugari

Our workshops have come to an end, at least for the period of time I have been here. The funds I raised in the States have made it possible for Advanced and Training for Training AVP courses to be held in several locations around the country, by covering the costs of food, materials, facilities, hospitality and transport for the facilitators. It is very gratifying to have been a part of this effort, especially because I have had the opportunity to assist in introducing a whole new crop of apprentice trainers, many of whom I believe show great potential. The program in Kenya has now expanded to the point where there is a very high demand for the training, and people are finding creative ways to hold Basic and even Advanced level workshops without reliance on outside funding, by volunteering church space, preparing food, and chipping in to buy it. We have reached the point where people are taking ownership of the program and the primary need for funding is now for introducing AVP into previously untapped areas of the country.

Wednesday, 9/27/06, Kakamega

We left Lugari yesterday and traveled to another very remote village of Mautuma, in Western Province, where last year I visited the Quaker Orphan Support Group that I wrote about in my journal. This is the group of 18 families (mostly women head of households) sponsored by UZIMA Foundation who have taken in 100 children, orphaned by parents who have died from the AIDS virus. A little quick math will reveal that each of these women care for an average of 5.7 children, in addition to their own. They live with their families in crude little mud houses with a square footage of about the size of one of our family rooms. This is also the group for which I raised $365 from the proceeds of the hand-made beaded HIV/AIDS pins. Many Richmond Friends, other Friends/friends and family members purchased the pins in support of this income-generating project. They will be pleased to learn that I was able to personally present the proceeds to members of the group.

It was very heartwarming to witness the deep gratitude and great excitement of the women, upon learning of this major contribution in support of their organization. They sang songs and ululated to a peak of enthusiasm and pleasure over this unexpected windfall. It was a sight to behold! For these families, who live at or close to the Kenyan poverty level, $365 (25,500 shillings) is a very substantial sum. During our meeting, the women present, who included the organizational officers, agreed to invest the money in maize (their primary livelihood). By so doing they will yield an even greater profit at the time of harvesting.

Janet informed me that most of these women are widows and many of their own children have died from the AIDS virus. It’s unknown how many of the women themselves are HIV+ because there is such a strong stigma in this society, and most women will not come forward, let alone seek help. Many of the orphaned children also have the virus; however they have never been tested. Janet spoke with the group’s coordinator yesterday to see if they could organize a mobile health unit to come to Mautuma to perform the testing.

As I write this I am remembering a conversation I had with Getry before leaving Lugari, about Betty, the Machayo’s “house girl”, as she is called. Getry and Betty have become friends over the last few years when Getry has frequented the Machayos for numerous AVP meetings and trainings. Getry told me that Betty has AIDS and the virus has progressed to the point where she is often feeling ill. She stays at the Machayo compound in a small dwelling behind the house and must continue to work in order to support her family who live at a considerable distance. Betty confided to Getry the night before we left that last winter, her only child, a 12 year-old daughter, was stricken ill. By the time Betty was able to get home, her daughter had passed away. Getry was so overcome by this news that she didn’t have the heart to ask Betty how her daughter had died. After sharing this with me, we decided to jointly give Betty a tip equaling one month’s pay for her – actually a pretty meager sum, by our standards – for all of her hard work over the previous week, when at times she was not at all well. The next morning as we were about to leave, Betty had tears in her eyes as we hugged good-bye.

After leaving Mautuma yesterday morning, we took another matatu to Getry’s mother’s family home in the village of Lukusi, where we were to stay the night. This was also a very rural area high up in the mountains between the Nandi Hills and the edge of the Kakamega Rainforest. I had been looking forward to meeting Getry’s “mum” and 2 year-old daughter, Denah, both of whom she has told me so much about. She is also caring for Getry’s sister’s kids – a daughter and son, ages 15 and 17 – in addition to a 16 year-old girl who Getry informally “adopted” after the girl’s mother, a close friend of Getry’s, died of cancer. [I am continually hearing about Kenyans who have died from cancer in their youth or middle years. I am told that in this country, it is rare that anyone ever recovers from the disease due to the lack of available treatment.]

Getry’s father died of cancer when she was small. His family was unwilling to allow her mother and her children to remain in the patriarchal home, as is too often the case when a man dies, leaving the wife and kids to fend for themselves. Traditionally, a newly married couple begins their life and family in the home and on the land where his family are settled. So Getry’s mum came back to her ancestral home in Lukusi where she has a 1 ¼ acre plot on which Getry and her brother, Brian, helped to build a modest 3-room house. She has a small crop of maize which is not enough to provide for the family, so Getry regularly supplements her income. Getry herself is planning to finally complete the house construction by bricking over the mud wall exterior. (She totally amazes me.) The handmade bricks will be brought to a section of the compound where they will be baked. This involves stacking the bricks in such a way so that a fire is made in the center, forming a kind of oven and allowing the bricks to burn from the inside out.

On our way to Getry’s home in the late afternoon, we stopped at a market and she bought several bags full of food to take to her mother. Needless to say, she is a very loving and selfless daughter. Our matatu took us to the village market where we unloaded and walked about a mile down a path – a shortcut leading to Getry’s house, while watching the sun setting over the rainforest in the distance. Her mother prepared a tasty meal of ugali, cabbage and vegetables, and a freshly slaughtered hen. The kitchen is in a separate, thatched roof building, where the grandson sleeps. Getry and I played with little Denah well into the evening, by the light of a gas lantern. She is a beautiful child, high in spirit and full of smiles and laughter. I shared a twin-sized bed with Getry that was actually the softest and most comfortable of my trip thus far. Fortunately I slept through the night without having to take a trip out across the dark, cold compound to the latrine. This AM I bathed in the outdoor “bathroom”, a structure built of sticks lashed together on three sides around a floor of bricks, with a tub of warm water on a stool. It was quite a refreshing experience looking out over the fields and hills as I bathed in the warm morning sun.

Getry’s mum walked us back up to the market where we were able to get fairly quick transport to the next village. However the matatu driver kept us waiting for an hour hoping to pick up more passengers. We arrived in Kakamega at 2pm, then caught a boda-boda to the cyber café for a spell, finally arriving “home” to the cheery yellow stucco house that Janet and Getry share, having walked the rest of the way winding through a network of alleys and pathways to their neighborhood on the outskirts of Kakamega town.

Friday, 9/28/06, Kakamega

The last couple of days in Kakamega have been characterized by a very pleasant and relaxing pace in contrast to the intensity of the previous 2 and 1/2 weeks of non-stop training and travel. Yesterday we visited the new AVP Peace Center in Labao, a few miles west of Kakamega. It is still in the process of a slow-pace construction, being done through the efforts of Quaker workcamps scheduled each summer and sponsored by AGLI and its Kenyan partner, Friends for Peace and Community Development. The workcampers are a combination of mostly young people from the US, Canada, Europe and Kenya, but funds are raised primarily by Westerners. This year they were able to raise the roof on the main section of the building. The hope is that the Center will be in use after next year’s workcamp, as an AVP training center and office.

Yesterday Getry and I took a boda-boda to visit Janet’s mother who has been ill. She lives on the outskirts of Kakamega a few miles off the main road on a very bumpy dirt lane. Riding on the back of a boda-boda cycle on any Kenyan road has to put one at major risk, but unpaved roads full of ruts and rocks??...I try not to dwell on the likelihood of potential disaster. Actually the drivers are quite skilled. I’ve come to trust, however blindly, in their adeptness, and just enjoy the ride. It’s a kind of breezy-reckless-freeing experience!

The road passed through scenic fields and hills of maize and wildflowers. On the way back we walked the distance to the main road at a leisurely pace, while I snapped pictures of a diverse array of tropical wildflowers blooming on each side of the lane. There were entire fields of wild ageratum (found only as an annual bedding plant in the US) growing up between what was left of harvested maize.

This has also been a time of rest and recuperation for Janet and Getry after weeks of traveling, as well as an opportunity to catch up on errands and shopping. We have covered a lot of ground walking around Kakamega the last few days – through the large open-air Kakamega Market, to the cyber café, and breaking for lunch at one of several typically African eateries. We return home each day in time for late afternoon tea, when inevitably one or two friends drop by, usually UZIMA youth from the Kakamega office. Getry and Janet’s place is apparently a favorite and friendly hangout.

Tomorrow morning I leave at 8am for the nine-hour bus ride to Nairobi where I will spend my last two days in Kenya, at Malesi’s home. Saying good-bye to Getry and Janet will be a bittersweet moment. We’ve built a strong bond of friendship, having lived and worked together for weeks.

Saturday Evening, 9/28/06, Nairobi

I just got in, after an all day journey across Kenya from Kakamega. Malesi is not here…we said good-bye in Kakamega where she will be staying for a while with her husband, John, at their house in Hurumbi village. I finally met John when we all met for lunch in town. He had been in the US for several months, visiting his younger brother in Delaware. Although Malesi is not here, I am feeling quite at home with the rest of the family who are so gracious and welcoming. Tomorrow, Lina and I will attend the Friends silent worship at Friends International Center. In the afternoon Winnie and I will go to the Masaii Market downtown. The Masaii people, and others, bring their handmade crafts to Nairobi every weekend to sell, largely to tourists. It’s advisable, as a Westerner, to be accompanied by a Kenyan, because they will understandably attempt to take advantage of a naïve “rich” American. For us, the prices appear quite reasonable even well before the final negotiation is reached. For most of these craftsmen, this is there sole livelihood.

Happily, my bus trip today was uneventful – the weather was perfect and the scenery, spectacular, from the beautiful groves of acacia trees to the acres of tea plants carpeting the hills, the many spectacular lakes, and finally through the Great Rift Valley flanked by majestic mountains on either side. Even the roads didn’t seem so bad, yet they are the same old bad roads I traveled on my trip back to Nairobi last year. I guess I am finally getting used to them – their bumpiness is just enough to keep me in motion and my back from hurting.

I have been thinking a lot about home, my return flight coming up in just two days. I’ve been in Africa for five weeks – one week in South Africa and four in Kenya. I am feeling the pull, the yearning to be together again with cherished family, community, dear friends. If I were single and free of family and other responsibilities, I could see myself staying on, perhaps even living here for a spell. I understand now why others make those decisions – people I have met or known about, connected with AGLI, or other Friends organizations, or NGOs. They, as well as I, have come to love Africa, it’s wild beauty, its stark contrasts – in culture, tribal ethnicity, and religious beliefs, all imbedded in deep, rich traditions. Traditions that, at best, foster strong bonds of family, faith, community, and a wonderful generosity of spirit, while in the worst of times serve only to tear apart, shame, stigmatize, and polarize, leading to violence, suffering and pain. Yet these problems are not unique to Africa…only in their specificity. They represent the challenge to all humanity – to learn how to live in a non-violent world, with the final recognition that we are truly all one, connected by threads of indwelling Light, that of God in you and in me.

I have come to love Kenya and the Kenyan people, perhaps the same as I might come to love those of another country and culture, were I also to spend a total of 10 weeks in that place. But this is the place I have felt called to be…for reasons that have never fully crystallized on a conscious level. It began as a glimmer and grew into a strong leading. It was preceded by many doubts, fears, and setbacks. However since first setting my feet on Kenyan soil last September of 2005, I have never once wavered. Seldom in my life have I felt such clarity of purpose, a deep Knowing that seems to transcend conscious awareness. This, next to marriage and motherhood, is what Spirit’s intention claims for me in this life, in this time. I can’t pretend to know what the future holds. My Kenyan colleagues have asked and are assuming that I will return next year, bringing funds to support expansion of the program. God willing, I will come again. I am under no illusions that my contributions are but a tiny ripple in an ocean of great need. But for now at least, it feels so completely right. May I continue to remain open and vigilant to that “still, small voice within”, ever leading me in this work and service, to offer what few gifts I have that might be a catalyst for others to grow in truth and spirit.