My True Calling

Back in Nairobi after safari, we contemplated our next move. We were feeling the draw toward the coast and longed to explore Kenya's beaches. We'd heard Lamu was nice but expensive; Malindi pretty but overrun with Westerners; and Mombasa more developed and touristy. After several trips to a travel agent we'd befriended downtown, we still weren't sure it was the "vacation" we wanted. (Is there such a thing as "vacation" when you're traveling for this long? I think not...but I digress.)

After several meetings in Henry's agency, we'd narrowed it down to several Mombasa beach resorts for an 11-day adventure due to cost and travel considerations. Lamu was proving to be expensive to fly, Zanzibar followed as a close second in this regard, and thus Mombasa became the buzz word. But something wasn't really jiving with me about it.

A few weeks earlier I'd caught wind, thanks to Lonely Planet's Thorn Tree forum, of a volunteer center named Takatifu Gardens operating in remote western Kenya. The place was run by Quakers who'd built a community center in a small village near Kakamega, and were looking for people to come help them teach English in primary schools. They also did work with a nearby orphanage. The opportunity sounded challenging, low-maintenance, and just what David and I had envisioned for part of our time in Africa. We'd left the States with a goal to put ourselves to good use in countries that needed it most. No one could argue that Kenya was one of those places.

I had emailed Fran, one of the leaders of the center, and started my inquiry before we'd even arrived in the country. Were there a lot of bugs? What was the toilet situation? How would we get there? How much did it cost? What exactly would we be doing with the kids? My questions were lengthy, but Fran proved diplomatic and even downright nice from the get go. I thought this might be the perfect opportunity for us to put ourselves to really good use in a country that desperately needed our help.

As the days wore on, and we grew weary of Nairobi, David could sense the debate running rampant in my head. We would leave Henry's office after another round of discussions on the best poolside offerings and resort packages in Mombasa, and try as I might, I couldn't really embrace the idea of luxuriating on a beach. "I can tell your heart isn't in it, honey," said my astute husband. "You want to go to Takatifu, right?" He'd nailed it on the head, known it all along, but he could see the fear in my eyes. "It's the bus ride that's holding you back, huh?" Yep, I nodded, a big lump in my throat.

Who wouldn't be a bit gun shy after enduring a week plus on Kenya's dusty, bumpy, mostly unpaved roads? We'd been back four days from safari, and my internal organs still hadn't shifted back to their original positions. We'd witnessed countless overloaded matatus (Kenya's decrepit, horribly unsafe version of the minibus) hurtling towards us in attempts to pass big rigs on crowded "highways." We'd swerved to avoid donkeys and any other creatures that wandered along the roadside. We'd been hassled several times by the ever-so-corrupt police at roadside "checkpoints." Driving in Kenya wasn't a fun or relaxing experience, and if it were that traumatic in a private safari minivan, I shuddered to envision what a public bus would be like.

Worry aside, we made the bold choice to ditch the sun and sand and instead brave the way to the countryside to put ourselves to good use for a week. I can tell you now it was the best decision I've ever made, not to mention the most rewarding experience of my life. The bus, despite being over an hour late and arriving nine hours later at our destination, wasn't so bad, but it was downright scary at times. Those crazy drivers can do unimaginable things with a rumbling large vehicle over a lot of red dirt. We were the only Westerners on board. Somehow this endeared us to our Kenyan neighbors; we got a lot of smiles and shared cookies with the kids. We befriended a local who kindly let us use his cell phone to alert Fran and his wife, Kim, of our delayed arrival.

When we arrived in Khayega near the only gas station in town (our pre-established meeting point), it had been raining for the last hour and the sun had sadly set. I can't describe what I felt as the driver pulled up to the side of the road and announced this was our drop-off point. David eeked out a small grin, I grabbed my pack and hoped for the best. We were the only white people amid a see of dark African faces along a remote rural road in even remoter western Kenya. It was pitch black outside. We felt vulnerable, and rightly so. But no sooner had we alit from the bus than Fran and Kim approached with a friendly, "Hello!" and we were whisked off to the safety of the Land Cruiser.

It's now the beginning of October while I write this entry (so far behind!), but the memory of our eight days there in July is so fresh in my mind. Our time in Shinyalu, Kenya, was awesome, life-changing, emotional, rewarding, and a thousand other adjectives I won't list here. Our Takatifu friends are Fran and Kim, a seriously nice and fun Australian couple who run the place; Ulrike, an inquisitive warm German woman; Casey, a funny outgoing dude from Texas; Karl and Rosie, a Kenyan brother and sister with the warmest smiles you've even seen; and Gidi, a Kenyan guy who never made us stop laughing.

These people are awesome, and we truly felt part of a community while we lived there. We shared meals, stories, and games together, and respected each other's quiet times. When we weren't working with the kids, we put ourselves to good use bettering the community center. I started in on weeding, which I loved despite the bugs, while David employed his art school talent to paint both door signs for our rooms and the larger project of the handicapped bathroom. I helped him out with the bathroom when I'd finished my gardening projects, and together, we put on a pretty mean three coats of what we dubbed "African cream" over the course of a few days.

On our second-to-last day there, 21 kids from an orphanage in Kakamega came to Takatifu Gardens for a day of fun. One of the little girls, Lilian, is only four but HIV positive--not uncommon in Africa but tough to swallow. You hear about these kids on Oprah or in the American news, but you don't really grasp the concept of their pain until you look at their faces and see it first-hand. This little angel has suffered so much in such a short time, and I could see it in her eyes as she sat in a chair next to me.

I watched her for a long while, a blank look on her face, until she caught sight of a group of ladies walking down the dirt road near the soccer field where we'd gone to play games (and of course, soccer!). Once the women caught sight of her, you knew something was up. They came running over smiling from ear to ear; one of the women scooped Lilian up in her arms. I asked Elizabeth, the social worker with us, what was going on. She responded that these ladies were all close friends of Lilian's mother before she died of AIDS. They recognized Lilian because she used to live in this village near the soccer field. The tears welled up in my eyes in an instant. You could feel the love pouring out from these women into this little child, and you could feel this little child light up from their hugs and kisses. Familiar faces meant so much.

It wasn't long before I witnessed another moving moment. Lilian's grandmother--poor, uneducated, and unable to care for Lilian--arrived at the soccer field. Lilian's face lit up once again as she was showered by love from a familiar person. I felt my tears coming yet again. To see this woman embrace her grandchild, knowing that she, too, had lost her own child--this child's mother--was heartbreaking and almost more than I could take. How to get through this supposedly happy day without feeling completely miserable and bogged down by the sadness of it all? It's one of the intense challenges Africa posed, and a dilemma I'll never quite understand.

Elizabeth told me that one of the orphanage's goals is to teach existing family members how to care for these children so they can stay with them for several weeks during the year. It's the orphanage's goal to keep these kids connected to whatever family remains whenever possible. For Lilian, it's a difficult task, as caring for an HIV-positive child in rural Africa presents a host of challenges. The grandmother has to be taught to give Lilian her daily meds, and to cook her meals that keep her healthy and won't upset her immune system. Tough to do when you're uneducated and live in a mud hut with no electricity and scant money.

David and I were particularly moved by the story of another boy, 10-year-old Eugene, a street kid who showed up at Takatifu one night homeless and hungry. His father had been arrested for murder, although we hear it was a fight where he hit another man, who fell and hit his head and then died as a result of his injuries. Now Eugene's village and relatives have disowned him; in western Kenya, it's customary to banish from the village the remaining relatives of a murderer. It doesn't matter that you're only 10 with nowhere to go and no one to care for you. Eugene miraculously found Takatifu, who in turn searched out this orphanage where he now lives. That's how Takatifu made the connection to Carmel, the orphanage director, who's really more of an angel than an administrative person. An aboriginal woman in her 70s from Australia, she's a true "everywoman" who's given these kids a new lease.

At the soccer field it was mostly the boys who played ball (David was in heaven, having been away from sports for so long) while the girls jumped rope. I talked forever with Carmel, and boy, did she have stories to tell. We walked back to Takatifu along the village road and got quite a few stares. But after being there all week in rural western Kenya, it didn't bother me anymore. In fact, it felt like we lived and belonged there...so cool!

We fed the kids a huge rice-and-beans-and-greens lunch, which they gobbled down, then most of them watched a movie on Fran's laptop. I went outside after a bit, and most of the girls (ages 4-12) were sitting outside bored in the sun. I went back inside to check with Casey to see if we had any art supplies. When he nodded "yes," I returned to ask the girls if they'd like to draw. The answer was a resounding YES! So I gathered up the scraps of paper I could find and the half-sharpened pencils and dying pens, and they were happy as clams. A few of the boys even joined in.

It was a sight to see, these poor kids sitting on the edge of the planter boxes in the hot African sun, using their knees and hands as bases for holding their paper, barely able to squeak ink out of the pen or pencil but creating images nonetheless. It made me think of all the excess toys and "things" most kids in the U.S. have, and I just got really emotional seeing these poor kids so appreciative of the barest of art supplies. They could teach all of us a lesson about gratitude, believe me.

I became enamored with two sisters, Rosy (7) and Stella (10), whom I was considering adopting were it not for the fact that (a) Adopting kids in Kenya is really tough, as the government is rife with corruption, extorts money from Westerners (it's supposed to cost $6,000 per child but can go as high as $50,000!), and it can take two years to sort out; (b) David would like to start with younger kids and raise them earlier, which I can understand; and (c) We are still traveling for a while, and I'm not sure where I'd stow two small Kenyan children in our backpacks. Ah, such obstacles!

I can't even begin to describe how those eight days has changed me (and us). I was so at peace in that jungle village, even despite having to shower from boiled water in a bucket; dealing with the horrible smell and dirt of pit toilets; and fighting off some bugs at times (although not many). Not to mention that life in rural Africa is, well, downright DIFFERENT!!! In hindsight, these things pale in comparison to what we received in the way of an amazing life-altering experience.

The Kenyan government only recently made primary education free. Prior to that action, most children in rural areas couldn't afford to attend school. Now with it being more accessible, schools are teeming with smiling, inquisitive kids who, for the most part, really want to learn. Sadly you also witness things such as a 15-year-old tall, skinny boy crammed into a class of little eight-year-olds, because he was never able to attend school before then and can't place into a higher class with kids his age.

It's not unusual for schools to have 750-1,200 students, with classes averaging 70 students per teacher. Top that off with the rustic conditions of the classrooms--thatched roofs, rats running around, primitive desks, and limited supplies, and you've got quite a challenge before you. In just three days we helped over 2,500 kids with their English reading...quite an accomplishment! I never tired of hearing little Kenyans read aloud, "A fat man stands to rrrub his rrribs," and smiled every time at the way they rolled their Rs with an African lilt. It was truly music to my ears.

So today, as I sit in an air-conditioned Internet cafe in Bangkok, amid the comforts of a Westernized, southeast Asian society (believe me, after where we've been these last six+ months, Bangkok is a breath of civilized fresh air), I'm reminded of our dear friends in little Shinyalu, who are with me in my heart more often than they probably know.

I miss them, I miss the friendships we made, I miss the kids, I miss being of service, and more than anything, I miss the feeling of pure bliss I experienced in finding my true calling. Save for the six-day silent meditation retreat I did several months after David and I were married, I've never felt more alive and free and in touch with my true self than when I spent those eight great days in western Kenya. Someday I will go back. And maybe we'll even adopt a child...or two...or three...

Sure as Kilimanjaro Rises...

If we were hesitant to arrive in Cairo, that anticipatory worry multiplied tenfold with our looming flight to Kenya. The bustling capital of Nairobi, or as it's commonly referred to as "Nairobbery," is a city struggling to weave its way into modernity and calm. That effort, however, is plagued by a continually corrupt government (although things have improved during Kibaki's presidential reign); close to 40 indigenous tribes struggling for power; a frightening Mungiki gang that had beheaded several bus drivers just days before our arrival; deplorable poverty in notorious slums (read more about Kibera); regular post-sunset muggings of both locals and tourists; and worst of all, an "explosion" (which we would call a bombing) on busy Moi Avenue that went off the week before we were scheduled to touch down. We almost cancelled our trip and diverted our attention to a more deserving nation, but after several days of debate and research, we decided to give Kenya a chance, despite its shady reputation.

What a delight awaited us! Sure, there's a lot for the eyes to absorb, and it wears heavy on your heart at times. But Kenya never ceased to amaze and enchant us...with its national pride, its mind boggling wildlife inventory, its lovely diverse landscapes, and most of all, its ever-friendly people. Most Kenyans speak very good English, and their calm demeanors and smiling faces won us over day after day. We spent a month here and felt grateful to have had that amount of time to devote to a much-misunderstood country. If you peel back a few gritty layers, this nation reveals a beautiful inner side probably lost on most safari-only-bound holiday makers.

We holed up in a really nice business-style hotel in the prestigious Upper Hill neighborhood for the duration of our time in Nairobi. We felt a bit luxurious, but it was worth the splurge considering the above issues I highlighted. Located down the street from the Israeli embassy, our digs were heavily guarded by armed military folks in full camo duds toting huge machine guns, not to mention multiple road checkpoints with metal gates barring vehicle entry. The hotel itself had three key card entry points before you even reached your room. The level of security was a bit absurd if you ask me, but at least we could come and go knowing we were well protected. A sign posted just down the road even bragged about the high level of protection. "Welcome to Nairobi's safest street" greeted us daily and boasted two caricatures of smiling faces (as if we needed more assurance).

We spent our first few days seeking out and interviewing safari operators, as getting out into the parks and game reserves was our main purpose for being there. Struggling with lingering food poisoning compliments of Egypt, I had a tough time enduring it all. But luckily after the first day, with an emergency bathroom stop at an office building happy to oblige me their surprisingly decent toilet, and with a few Cipro under my belt, I was on the rebound. The weather was much cooler (delightful after Luxor's sweltering heat!), which made doing business here more pleasant. After grueling hours of meetings, and recovering from the initial shock of the high cost of this kind of adventure, we settled on an outfitter and packed for our June 22 departure to Tanzania. 11 days in the bush awaited, and we were eager to go!

The shuttle bus to Arusha was an experience in itself. I don't know where I got the impression that Kenya would have four-lane paved, divided highways. I soon realized I was sadly mistaken in my expectations and that the modernity we'd enjoyed in Nairobi ended once you left the heart of the city. The drive, which was roughly 158 miles long, took almost six hours. We sat in pollution-choking traffic on the road to Mombasa, then endured pothole after pothole once we headed south to the border. Swerving to avoid donkeys, Masai herdsmen with their cattle, and numerous trucks coming head-on into our lane, our driver kept the peddle to the metal and gave us the scare of a lifetime. When we finally arrived in neighboring Tanzania, I was ready to call the whole thing off. Luckily, the trip improved dramatically from the comfort of our 4WD safari jeep and our excellent driver/guide Steven. He introduced himself with a smile, helped us load our packs into the vehicle, handed us a box lunch, and headed out for the drive to Lake Manyara.

Spotting my first giraffe and zebra from the highway is something I won't forget in this lifetime. You can see these animals in zoos (as an animal lover, I was a big fan of zoos before coming to Africa, but it just doesn't compare to watching them roam the wild landscape, plucking leaves from acacia trees or nestling each other on the plains of a volcanic crater. In lieu of the popular road trip games we play in the States, David and I quickly settled into little contests of who could spot the first critter from the jeep.

East Africa delivers big time on wildlife viewing, and we saw everything except the elusive black rhino. Considering there are no guarantees when you sign up for one of these things, I think that's pretty impressive. We spent three nights in Tanzania, taking in two game drives in Lake Manyara National Park (where, among other incredible sights, we watched a leopard in a tree devour a bush buck) and two days in the Ngorongoro Crater, which is probably one of the most amazing places on Earth. As part of the Serengeti ecosystem, the opportunities for wildlife viewing abound here, and the setting is like nothing we've ever seen.

Thousands of animals are packed into the floor of this sunken volcano, and it's really, in a nutshell, so cool. You drive down a steep dirt road into the bowl and spend hours cruising the plains amid a plethora of wildlife. We feel blessed to have watched two cheetahs stalk an impala for half an hour before setting in on the chase and the speedy kill. Watching it all transpire in a matter of seconds at close range, I can now vouch that they really are the fastest mammals on land. Earlier that day, we had squatted in disbelief to pee among a herd of onlooking zebra...how wild is that? (Our guide tentatively let us out of the jeep but warned us to stay hidden lest a park ranger spot us out in the open.) We also really enjoyed our one-night stay at the crater's wildlife lodge perched on the rim. Our room looked out on the animals grazing at night and provided insane views during daylight, plus good food and entertainment from a Tanzanian dance troupe.

We sadly bid farewell to Tanzania too soon and headed back to the Namanga border, where our Kenyan driver/guide, Felix, collected us for our next eight days. We visited Amboseli National Park (beneath the shadow of mighty Kilimanjaro), a unique tree lodge at the base of Mt. Kenya, Lake Nakuru National Park (famous for its throngs of pink flamingos), Lake Baringo, Lake Bogoria, and the infamous Masai Mara. We witnessed lions up close quite a few times; tons (literally) of elephants, zebras, and wildebeest grazing in the distance from our patio at the Ol Tukai Lodge in Amboseli; my favorite, the hippo (although not as close nor as many as I would have liked ); a teen leopard in a tree right above our minivan in Nakuru, along with incredible numbers of white rhino; quite a few giraffes, which we both love; all of the requisite antelopes save the kudu (my favorite is the topi); and plenty of other creatures as well.

It's amazing how you lose track of time out on the plains or overland for 9+ hours in a minivan. On this trip we experienced more of Kenyan transportation inefficiency than we ever care to endure again. The road between Narok and Naivasha--on the way to the famed Masai Mara and back--was particularly bad. It took us over an hour to go only 20 miles, most of it on half-dirt/half-potholed stretches of "highway," with screaming trucks whizzing by, and more dust up your nose and on your clothes than you could stomach in two lifetimes--and that with the windows closed. Sad to think that this is the main drag for big rigs carrying important cargo from Mombasa all the way into Uganda. To add insult to injury, it had rained both nights in the Mara, which is really dangerous as nothing is paved, so you're literally skidding along in a minivan (with no 4WD, mind you) hoping you don't get stuck in a mud hole or washed away in a river somewhere.

Our guide/driver was a bit daring at times. At one point in the Mara, we had to abandon the van just outside of our campsite and wade about 25 feet through some puddles and mud to the dining hut. Then the next morning, we took 1.5 hours to get out of the Mara, at times driving literally through pools of water so large they splashed over the top of the van, obscuring the entire windshield and practically flooding out the transmission. Like I said, I'm done with overland travel in Kenya if I can help it (famous last words, as you'll discover).

Several outfitters told us not to bother going the distance to the Serengeti, as we'd see the same stuff in the Masai Mara, which in hindsight was a mistake. There were hardly any animals in the Mara, and we would have preferred more time with our fun Tanzanian driver/guide. Steven was much more personable and interesting than Felix, who was more of a driver than a guide. At times this Kenyan guy had the personality and physical resemblance of Barry Bonds (think dull and aloof) coupled with the funky demeanor of Snoop Dogg (think dopey and irreverent). Hindsight, as we all know, is always 20/20.

Animals aside, two highlights of a human nature will stick with me for a long time: Having our photos taken at stunning Lake Bogoria for almost an hour with hundreds of 10- and 11-year-old wide-eyed school kids on field trip from northwestern Kenya (the opening photo of this blog); and a two-hour tour of a Masai Mara village given by the locals. Our Masai guide, Alex, knew I liked cows, so he suggested we walk back to our campsite as the young boys were taking the massive herds out to graze for the afternoon. It's an awesome experience to stand in the middle of an African field with about 200 cattle lumbering toward you amid whooping chants of tribal natives prodding them with spears. Doubt you'd see that in America any time soon.

Thus our African safari, despite being problematic at times (I've chosen to spare you the really gritty details) and ridiculously expensive, was a big success. We returned to Nairobi exhausted, inspired, and ready to take on our next challenge. Little did I know that that next adventure would be an experience that would really change my life.

P.S.--I found this paragraph from Wikipedia truly inspiring and very telling of the current issues facing Kenya, most notably in the area of education:

In November 2004, in an ABC PrimeTime interview with Peter Jennings, former US President Bill Clinton identified [President] Kibaki as the one living person he would most like to meet "because of the Kenyan government's decision to abolish school fees for primary education." Clinton added that, by providing free and compulsory primary education, what Kibaki had done would affect more lives than any president had done or would ever do by the end of the year. The free education program saw nearly 1.7 million more pupils enroll in school by the end of that year.

P.P. S.--Thanks to the iconic 80s band, Toto, for letting me (unbeknownst to them) pirate lyrics from their one-hit wonder, Africa, for use as this blog's title. I am forever indebted.

In the Footsteps of the Kings (and Queens)

I'm quickly learning that despite my best efforts, it's impossible for me to be short and sweet about anything. But I can keep trying. We were only in Egypt for 11 days, so there can't possibly be that much to write about, right? Hmmm...not so sure.

We were a bit hesitant to alight in Cairo after having left the beauty of the Greek Isles amid reports of 46 degree Celsius temps in Egypt. That's pushing 120 degrees Fahrenheit, worse than early June at my mom's house in Arizona. Egads, we thought - if terrorists don't kill us, the heat undoubtedly will.

But we braved the warm weather and were pleasantly surprised by Cairo. Yes, I know - again the Muslim anticipation comes to mind.unending glares from seedy men, oppressive attitudes toward women, being awakened at 4:30am by the call of the muzzein (which we've honestly come to enjoy), dust, dirt, sand. But we found the Egyptians welcoming and the city a bit crazy in a good way. Maybe we'd gotten too complacent in Greece. The madness of Egypt quickly would change all that.

Our approach from the air was remarkable. I'd never seen so much sand and desert in my life! It's exactly what I'd envisioned Egypt would look like, although I was a bit worried that so much sand so close to a major metropolitan area would make for tough goings. Never fear: Cairo is modern and paved and dirty and loud and beautiful and peaceful all at the same time. Despite all the cards stacked against it, the place has a way of growing on you.

Brown is the predominant color here (if you omit the black grime), and it's remarkable how all of the buildings are tan, beige, russet, sienna, ecru, mud...a big mishmash of varying shades of that one simple hue. It's all tinged, though, from the ridiculous pollution. You risk dying from exhaust fumes every time you step outside your door, not to mention being hit by insane drivers who - in a city where traffic signals were installed at least 10 years ago - still refuse to heed the red lights. It's green and go for them nonstop, which is why Cairo has thankfully for us posted traffic police at just about every major intersection. It still makes crossing the street a big challenge, as being a Westerner, you carry a big target on your head (whether you know it or not) that seems to beckon, "Go ahead, I dare you to hit me."

We found a great hotel on the 12th floor of a commercial building downtown, in walking distance to the vast Egyptian Museum and the dreamy Nile. Owner Nabil, his cute dog Yuki, and their polite staff welcomed us as if their home were ours, and it truly made our stay special. Nabil arranged tickets, gave us great sightseeing info, offered us tea, and most important, became our friend. We really enjoyed our time at the Hotel Osiris, and the hospitality we encountered took the sting out of the Cairo streets.

Most folks hit Egypt for the pyramids at Giza, which we of course visited, but also took in the lesser-known sites of Dashur and Saqqara as well. It was a great day trip filled with amazing monuments and the best falafel I've ever tasted. At one point, I was so overcome with emotion at actually having made it all the way here to this last remaining seventh wonder of the world that I stood before the Sphinx staring at the pyramids in the background and just let the tears of joy flow. Words can't really describe the feelings that overcame me in the shadows of those impressive monuments. I think you have to experience it firsthand to fully comprehend the power these ancient structures hold over a person.

A big highlight of our time here was a four-night cruise down the Nile from Luxor to Aswan. We braved the overnight "luxury" train to Luxor (and the even longer return from Aswan five days later), lounged poolside for a day at a great historic hotel in town, spent Sunday touring the impressive sights of Karnak and Luxor Temples, and embarked Monday down the historic river in serious style. This being the first cruise for both of us, we were thoroughly impressed by our comfortable room, great buffets, and just the sheer fun of this new mode of sightseeing. It was a great and affordable way to take in the best Egypt can offer (special thanks to my friend Esther for the suggestion!).

We visited Valley of the Kings, Hatshepsut Temple, the Colossi of Memnon, Edfu Temple, Kom Ombo Temple, and Philae Temple. We braved the ridiculous heat and reveled at the enormity of it all. Our guide spoke great English, and we befriended the Japanese family who shared our daily tours (the rest of the ship was filled with Italian tourists, whom I'd befriended by the time we disembarked thanks to my decent knowledge of their language...in short, we spoke great spaghetti together).

There's so much more I could say, but for a change, I think I really will let the pictures speak for themselves and leave this entry at that. (Click on the images for larger versions.)