Eric Buteyn - East Africa (now Colorado)

2009-11-16T22:15:00.000-07:00

I hope words will come, but for now - Photos:

2009-11-03T21:21:00.012-07:00

Vacation? Obligation? Reputation? Stimulation? Inspiration? Why did I return to East Africa?

I think maybe for the sensation around and below my stomach when stepping off the plane, or for the giddiness that kicks in when leaving a hotel room with a vague plan and high expectations of the unknown, or for the deep warmth in my heart during reunion with Baba, Mama, and dear brothers, or for the sensed levitation while inhaling vast views of this intense land, or for the irresistible chills of the Spirit that result from the orphan's moonlit song. I returned for these.

10 days of Ethiopian casual adventure were followed by 2 weeks of reunion, of remembering, of new ideas. And although I don't expect to quickly forget the

changing moments in Ethiopia:

Sunrise and sunset over infinite fields, hills, green life

Morning Orthodox Mass free from Caucasian distraction

the foreignness of an Azmari beat

or the seemingly inverted night sky,

which proved to be the morning Meskel fires)

what continues to dominate my thought is the Mountain -

the poverty, the community

the inability, the effort

the inefficiency, the patience

the orphans, the orphanage

the students, the school

the faith, the Church

the pain, the trust.

And the Love demonstrated throughout.

I feel somewhat guilty for only spending 2 weeks at "home". Although the time was likely inspiring both to me and to those I shared stories and ideas with - or sometimes just listened to - it was so short and now I am forced to endure the challenge of real human interaction through electronic devices.

2008-09-03T21:50:00.003-06:00

In January, Hill Springs High School will add Juniors or Form 3 students to its enrollment and will therefore again be lacking proper facilities to accommodate this new class. Please join me in thinking and praying about a remedy to this challenge.

This coming Sunday I will finally do a brief presentation at 1st CRC Denver's 9:30 service recapping the past year, concentrating on the construction of 2 classrooms that was made possible only through their openness and generosity.

2008-07-13T23:01:00.002-06:00

I've added a collection of photos taken by Eric Kroonenberg while he was in Kenya. A slideshow will take a couple minutes, so if you have those minutes, I think it will be an entertaining time, if not inspirational.
http://picasaweb.google.com/ericbuteyn/EricKroonenbergSPhotos

2008-06-25T12:47:00.002-06:00

I'm home... in Colorado... as I was home in Kenya... as I am home anywhere in this small world.
http://picasaweb.google.com/ericbuteyn/TheYear

2008-06-20T09:45:00.010-06:00

Then a spontaneous decision: instead of going to 1 of the many Kenyan national parks and reserves for 2 nights, we decided to go to 3 parks for 7 nights. If I hadn't before, I've now seen Kenya. We went north, skirting Mt. Kenya to the dry wildness of Samburu land, the people as interesting to see as the animals. Then lush Lake Nakuru National Park, full of life, trippy moonscapes, flamingos. And the finale - Maasai Mara, in all its glory. Although the wildlife seemed less concentrated than the other parks, the Mara was most inspiring for me. I've been looking out toward it from the mountain for over 11 months, and I'd feel an incompleteness had I not entered its gates. The romance of indirect sunlight on the unending golden plains, whether sunrise or sunset, perfectly interrupted by the unique forms of Acacia trees is undeniable. Although we had intense interactions with young lions and gazelle-stalking cheetahs during our stay there, the highlight occurred as we exited the reserve when the Mara revealed her king to us in the majestic morninglight.

Now I sit alone in Nairobi after the most touching 2 days of my life thus far. There was reflective, gift-giving, song-singing times with students and teachers and staff, then mamas and elders, full of emotion. When it was my turn to speak, I tried to focus on the good things that we did this past year and look forward to an inevitable return, but naturally a sadness was present - separating a new family is never pleasant. Overall, people remained composed, but when the mamas slowly marched me back into my home for the last time, surrounding me and singing songs of blessings, and when the orphans came up to their home from school to say goodbye, tears in some of their eyes, and during the last hug with mama - I failed to remain a tearless warrior.

I'm excited to reflect at home through conversations with my friends and family on the west side of the pond.

2008-06-08T08:25:00.007-06:00

After travel, working is good.

I taught for a few weeks, continued to oversee the final touches on the classrooms and began to explain to more people that I am going to my other home. This was always met by questions of when I'll return to which I replied, "Mungu anajua" (God knows), because I really don't.

And after working for a few weeks, it's good to travel again.

Eric Kroonenberg and I are currently in Lamu after... a good few days mentoring the accountant for the program, teaching/ talking with the students, and playing with the orphans; then dusty bumpy buses (an Africa trip is not complete without the red dust in your hair) to Nairobi then Mombasa, relaxed there, back in Muslim Kenya, good curry and Minaret wailing; on to Malindi - super Italian influence hence pizza on every menu - the blessed beach, the low season (everything is abandoned still - good for us); now Lamu - super Muslim, Arabic, Swahili, African, roof-top terraced, laid-back Lamu. The only transportation is by donkey or dhow.

We experienced the dhow, rain-checked the donkey. Now we wander, peeking into burqa slits, dodging donkeys, hearing panjab blasting from small shops. Yesterday I stood perched on our terrace, watching sunset, hearing the evening adhan from 5 of the 32 mosques on the island, smelling strong incense, not believing I was in the same country as cacophonic Nairobi, and a world away from the Africa that I know on the mountain.
We make our way back to reality tomorrow, slowly... a safari remains, then a week of goodbyes, celebrations.

Tumemaliza kujenga

2008-04-29T02:15:00.005-06:00

After the wonderful runaround with Kasi, we had a meaningful couple days on the mountain. We arrived just before a wedding procession came from town. My cousin was getting married to a girl from town and a huge ceremony had been planned. So Kasi was able to see how Kenyans are united. The next day we went to church as the excitement form the previous day’s events lingered, causing the service to be longer than normal, but a very good experience for Kasi as she was officially welcomed. Sometimes a reminder of the generosity of the hearts of my community here (not to say it’s not evident daily) is good, and the generosity of my own heart is in turn renewed. Also, the time with the kids is always good, and they enjoyed playing and talking with another mzungu.

While I was away, the 2 new classrooms were painted. A few touch ups remain, but overall, we have completed the 1st phase of construction of the high school. Everyone is very excited – teachers, students, staff, community. This building is the most beautiful on the mountain, well-built, aesthetically agreeable, and will serve as a great place for learning. Without good teachers and diligent students, though, we might as well meet under a tree, so I envision gradual intangible improvements to accompany the tangible.

Now I say again, on behalf of the people of Ilchartuyiani, to all donors - THANK YOU for making these things possible. I’m not done yet, but this was the most prominent change that was to be made, and we’ve made it.

Safari Mzuri

2008-04-25T11:32:00.006-06:00

My new good friend Kasi and I have been running around vigorously. It’s good. Tomorrow we go to the mountain for my cousin’s wedding and for Kasi to see another side of Africa, we are no longer tourists, but visitors.

We have dicovered that Kenya is really a lovely country… one in which you are able to:

-- snorkel and swim in the hot Indian Ocean, eating rice and beans on the beach for less than a dollar (or crab and sea grass included in the price of a day-long dhow trip).

-- explore the Muslimism of Mombasa’s old town, riding tuk-tuks not because of long distances, but because it all feels more unreal…. invigoratingly foreign.

-- cough on the 3^rd world smells and sounds of the “real” Kenya, hidden from most tourists, but thankfully revealed to those who are willing to get off the track a bit.

-- spend many hours on roads in Tsavo East National Park, heads out the top of the vehicle, snapping pictures of dozens of fascinating animals, but then shutting up to inhale the land’s vastness, richness, and to notice the relaxed tension of the muscles of the cheetah and the red earth that becomes a part of the elephant’s skin from so many “washings”.

-- experience the craziness of Nairobi… too many people in too small a place with such a inadaquate infrastructure, but so much energy – it’s impossible to deny the excitement that results from the non-stop non-stopping.

I embrace this life, this country, and mentally approach things from a new perspective formed by so much time with people who will never even allow themselves to dream of such luxuries. I try to take nothing for granted. I try to allow myself to be molded by God through these times into something wiser.

Sasa, mimi ni msafiri

2008-04-02T05:45:00.007-06:00

I’ve become a tourist. I went to Kakamega National Forest Reserve near Kisumu yesterdaywith my friend Moi (the Doctor on the mountain), strolled the trails through this exciting jungle; gawked at all kinds of active primates in the canopy above; was amazed by vicious ficus that were taking over other trees – sometimes this parasitic relationship lasts for 100 years before the host is strangled and rots, leaving room for the ficus to thrive; and I swam in a dirty river (rain erosion upstream) by a lovely waterfall… a swim is always good for the soul. I hope to take this purity of mind and motivation of spirit back to the mountain.

Nimepona

2008-03-29T03:39:00.007-06:00

I’ve been quiet… on this blog and in my mind. Because of the position I ended up in – a position in which I’m exposed to the side of things that simple visitors never witness – and partly because I forgot that I’m in a beautiful place with beautiful people, I was honestly not very happy and thus had nothing positive to report, but I think I’ve returned to the Eric Buteyn that I think I am, and there are so many good things to pass on.

For you wonderful donors, the roof was put on the classroom the other day, and should be completed – even painted I hope, within a few weeks, at which time I’ll try to post a solid collection of photos. An official opening will occur sometime in May. Thanks again, and I’ll try to be more consistent with updates on progress. (I only was able to post two photos for now)

There are now about 40 orphans happily living in the children’s home. Interaction with these kids helps me maintain sanity and my smile. Their innocent positive outlook on life despite their unfortunate situation is certainly inspiring.

A sign was installed near the road – I think a sign brings pride – pride in all the things that are happening, that we are a part of. I think it might even help the students and teachers and everyone involved to come closer to sharing a vision that includes more than their own needs. They… we… are all part of a bigger work.

My "goal" when coming here was to become a member of a community in a place that is foreign to me. I have done that. Few people know me as Eric, only Lemiso; I often speak Kiswahili with the mamas and kids; I walk at night without a "torch" (flashlight); I visit friends without prior arrangement; I happily eat fatty meat and bitter greens that would be discarded in America. So "Niko tu." (Literally - "I am just" - a common phrase expressing general contentment).

I had an amazing experience the other day, on Good Friday. I was wandering near the house, re-introducing myself to the beauty of this place, when I saw coming out a bush something that looked like smoke in slow-motion. It turned out this was thousand of flies, emerging form their eggs maybe, clumsily trying to climb into the unknown. They kept coming for the ten minutes that I watched, and I thought of the wildebeests in their migration that happened a few months ago a hundred kilometers away. In the same way that the wildebeests sacrifice (to crocs and lions) a few for a few thousand, a small percentage of these flies were easily picked off by small birds that quickly gathered for an easy meal. And I noticed some in their attempt to climb up, up, would fall back down, seemingly exhausted, unable to continue. I picked one of these up, and then another, and as they rested in my hand, a small, green worm exited each host, after sucking the energy out of it. These parasites and the birds were eventually joined by a hawk and a dog in their abuse of these harmless dudus (insects), and I thought I was dealing with so many challenges. Maisha ni ngumu, lakini Mungu ni mwema. (Life is hard, but God is good)

2008-02-15T04:11:00.001-07:00

Woke up planning to journey to Kisii – I say journey because it’s more than just going. Ran down the hill through damp bushes and not-yet-planted maize fields, luckily got a ride on a tractor of beans illegally passing on the road to Nyangusu that is under construction. Got in a little hatchback with ten people, two in the driver’s seat, made it to Keroka. Transferred to a Matatu, crammed in the back, planned the day with Julius. Now I’m in Kisii, just purchased a truck-load of construction materials at a wannabe Home Depot and a weak melty ice cream cone (can’t feed my addiction in Kilgoris). Hurrying back to the mountain now – gotta go meet Osama the driver who always manages to find me in Kisii, hoping he can take my money to brings things home.

Elephants Below.

2008-02-12T07:07:00.001-07:00

“You’re still asleep and your brothers are chasing away the elephants!” This was my wake up call on Wednesday from Baba Joseph. He often says things like this about lions and other animals, telling me I need to always carry a stick, and asking where my sword is, so I wasn’t sure if he was serious at first, but indeed there were 3 elephants that came to eat the maize across the valley from my home. It is very rare for this to happen – I was told the last time was in the 60’s. The school day was almost non-existent as most of the kids ran to see these unfamiliar giants. Kenya Wildlife Rangers came to shoot blanks and fire flash charges to try to steer the Ndofu (kiswahili for elephant) back home to the bush, but these proved to be less effective than the rocks, sticks and shouts from the Maasai warriors. Truly unfamiliar to many of the locals, they at first made me stand a good 200 meters away, treating the giants like something that could explode any minute. I later joined a group of warriors who were circling the field, trying to witness some movement, but another group was circling the other side – I think we were surrounding them, forcing them to remain inside. I persisted, trying to get proof of the day’s excitement on my camera, but even a ranger with his gun pulled me away when the 3 started to come out of the maize. Eventually I managed a couple shots (but forgot the memory card today) as people pulled on my sleeve and free hand, insisting that we were too close. This was all very thrilling for everyone… probably over 1 thousand people came to see these guests. All attempts to move them failed, until they found their way down to the bush during the night. So now I don’t need to spend money on a safari.

Also this week, some of the orphans that are taken care of through the program moved into their new house on the mountain. The house is unfinished, there is no bathroom or kitchen, and some of the kids are sleeping 3 to a mattress, but they are ecstatic and so am I. I almost maybe sort of got a little choked up telling Mercy (a super confident and bright 13 year old) to be a good mama for the younger kids, knowing that she will be and knowing that she’s been eagerly awaiting this day for several months. She and others have been in less than stellar situations for a while, so this was certainly a day to celebrate and to thank God for his many blessings. It still feels like a summer camp – some of the younger kids cry at night because the unfamiliarity descends on them with the darkness, while others sing songs in their bunks.

I heard that the Peace Corps pulled out of Kenya. Good thing I’m not working with them.

2008-02-04T04:06:00.000-07:00

Classroom constuction seqeunce:

We began the first permenant classroom in December. Although the vilolence/ unrest slowed things down, we are about to open the door to the students (after it is installed tomorrow).

To all who gave last week, THANK YOU! Know that good things will happen because of what was collected. I will try to update consistently to show how quickly things can happen when we work together.

Peace obviously has not yet returned. We are hoping and praying for some sort of resolution, but even if it comes tomorrow, there are so many things to rebuild, mouths to feed... the economy will take a long time to recover. Why not book a trip to visit in April - support the tourist industry that will need help to recover?

2008-01-17T08:05:00.000-07:00

I returned to the mountain on Monday after waiting in Uganda for the fighting to subside. Honestly the trip was uneventful. I went though Kisumu, one of the hardest hit cities, and saw burnt cars and buildings and I could see on the road where roadblocks had been moved, but the road was clear, and people were busy doing what they had been doing before. I realize there are much worse areas and I know there are many displaced people, and we should continue to think about and pray for these people, but mlima ni mzuri (the mountain is good). I am safe in Ilchartuyiani, back to work. Many people stayed in or near their homes for several days, glued to the radio, waiting to hear of safety outside, but normalcy has returned to our area. High prices exist because transportation has been difficult and fuel pricy… skirmishes still occur between police and unsatisfied citizens who rally and rally and rally again… I hope it will only get better from here.

Regarding the village and the program, a lot of growth happened while I was running around the continent. We are building a children’s home, a primary school classroom, and a new classroom for the high school. There are so many other encouraging things happening that I will try to share soon, but today I want to ask for help.

Some of you have mentioned a desire to help me, or these people through me, and now there is an opportunity for that. My Church in Denver – 1st Christian Reformed Church – is taking a special offering/donation on January 27th, a week from Sunday. All money received will be transferred to the account of TMD (Trans Mara Community Development Program) here, and will be used specifically to help meet the needs of Hillsprings High School – the secondary education entity of the program. I believe that education is one of the most important elements of development. It provides such a large forum for sharing ideas, and through the students, these ideas will spread and grow. The primary school and orphan program each have their own donor sources that have enabled them to grow, but the high school has been struggling, borrowing, but surviving. Eventually, self sustainability is the goal, but unfortunately local funding simply cannot yet support construction and other big expenses such as a generator to run computers (which have been donated), or gutters and a water tank for harnessing rain water. There are so many things to be done, and it is all done to enable people in the community to survive, to grow, to function well in this 21st century. Please consider this - even 10 bucks can buy a door for a classroom or a few urgently-needed desks.

Some who are reading this are members of 1st – please go to church on the 27th and put something in the plate.

Some who are reading this live in Denver – go to 1st church on the 27th and put something in the plate, or follow the instructions below for those unfortunate people living in a state other than Colorado.

Friends all over – feel free to send a check to: 1st CRC

1814 S. Emerson St.

Denver, CO 80210

Checks should be made out to 1st CRC. Indicate that the money is for TMD or Eric Buteyn. Since the donations will be collected at 1st CRC on the 27th, it would be great if checks could also arrive by then.

-OR-

Bring any gifts to my parent's house - 1785 s. Corona, Denver, CO 80210 - again checks should be made out to 1st CRC.

Feel free to email me any questions/ concerns/ comments/ New Year's Eve stories... and have fun.

Response to the on goings

2008-01-08T06:32:00.000-07:00

Tribalism is subtly evident in many Kenyans. It is not angry or violent necessarily, but I occasionally hear comments by Luos (the tribe of opposition leader Raila Odinga) about Kikuyus (tribe of existing president Mwai Kibaki). “They are dishonest businessmen” or “I never go to their shops, because I don’t trust them”. I suppose that anytime you try to force 42 tribal groups into one united nation, there will be some groups who feel marginalized or afflicted by the government if that government is run by another group. So this innate insecurity based on tribe association creates a constant tension, which understandably blew up a bit after election rigging claims were uttered.

I’ve read and heard more than one western-based media report stating that the violence is completely political. They are hesitant to blame ethnicity. Perhaps we could admit that politics initiated it, but this continued violence is not happening because of the rigging of the election, it is because of ethnic pride and tension. BBC writer Adam Mynott wrote, “Ethnicity is deeply ingrained into life in Kenya. It would be ludicrous to suggest otherwise….Every Kenyan knows his tribe and feels not unnaturally a sense of pride in his origins.” Of course it is natural to feel that pride, but unfortunately when that pride is hurt, violence is the immediate answer. But what is the alternative? The disenfranchised are the ones fighting. They are not capable of arranging a meeting in Nairobi with the necessary people, but they are definitely capable of grabbing machetes and starting fires, and this provides them with some sense of accomplishment. They are doing something in response to their predicament.

I am trying to wait patiently in Uganda, frustrated by all of this. I want to go back “home” to work in my little village with the good simple people who live there. I’m still only in the shaking hands part of my relationship with this continent, but already I’ve been exposed to some of the underlying darkness. Darkness caused by abandonment of colonists? Or by so many different groups of people trying to exist together? Or by the drastic, forceful adaptation to western ways? These are young countries, young governments, and my African mind is even younger. Maybe it just takes time. I think there are enough people in Kenya who realize that violence is not the answer. I hope these people quickly become leaders and discourage any more fighting. I hope Kibaki and Raila sit down and chill out. On Friday the 11th, they are supposed to meet with the head of the AU and attempt some sort of agreement, but after talking with a man who narrowly escaped an area near Eldoret, I fear this may not be over. He thinks that if Kibaki doesn’t accept a re-vote, Raila will not be satisfied and there will be more trouble. This man who had gone home to vote and now is safe in Kampala somehow smiles and laughs as he talks about being in the middle of 3000 angry Luos showing his ODM voter’s card to escape beating or worse, and talking his way through roadblocks of thugs. This is so unreal and unexpected to me – to most of us.

I really am optimistic, and hopefully only days after writing this, things will have changed for the better and I will have returned to the beautiful peaceful land that is Kenya.

Pray, think, read, and talk about this region and others, question why you are where you are, and thank God for waking up this morning.

2008-01-03T09:07:00.001-07:00

Lake Bunyoni, Uganda. After meeting Jan from Belgium in Rwanda and doing two days in the clean, laid-back Kigali, we did New Years here:

2008-01-03T03:33:00.000-07:00

I thought a brief update would be appropriate. I'm in Kampala, waiting until things calm down before going "home". When the words "Civil War" enter the conversation, we ought to be careful... so that's what I'm doing. I'm safe, concerned, hopeful.

2007-12-30T08:09:00.000-07:00

Goma, Democratic Republic of the Congo. A volcano nearby erupted in 2002, covering much of the town with 1-3 meters of lava. Now, the lava rocks are used in construction and there exists an eerie dark gray everything. I needed to leave "East Africa" to restart the Kenya visa process, so conveniently I had to go through Uganda and Rwanda to get to DRC. Wonderful journey accompanied by random new friends.

Depressing landscape perhaps, but the kids are still happy.

2007-12-13T22:36:00.001-07:00

The mountain has changed from a peaceful place to a peaceful and magical place - this welcomed change of seasons almost reminds me of winter... although not super-cold. I walk in the morning through a thick fog that creates such a mysterious environment. The constant mellow cowbells, roosters getting people going, and sounds of early workers commanding their cattle - almost haunting calls - are all deadened by the mist.

My deaf neighbor Paulo sports the traditional shuka (sheet) in the early morning - he usually wears jeans. I've not only learned bits of Kimaasai and Kiswahili, but also Kisignlanguage.

Naserian (the name means "peace") stays with my buddy Peter, his wife Ruth, and their baby Jonah. She likes Tigger.

2007-12-03T02:24:00.000-07:00

2007-12-03T01:22:00.000-07:00

These kids were sledding - no snow, banana branches for sleds - beautiful.I attended the opening ceremony for mass circumcision of both boys and girls - mostly early in their puberty years. Although culturally amazing, there are some super-controversial things about the practice - especially with the girls. The initials FGM (female genital mutilation) mean so much more to me now - I have heard so many horror stories, and now have seen these girls preparing for their entrance into womanhood - initiated by the knife.

The boys are dressed in dark animal skins, equipped with spears... they run with the men who have gone through the same rite to a place where they are not seen, but their shouts and grunts and songs are heard along with the collision of their spears, clubs, and canes... slightly frightening. And occasionally, all the spectators would run - their footsteps revealing their fear or something, and then another group of boys or girls would come.

The dancing and songs were amazing - even as I walked to the ceremony, hundreds of others were almost jogging - shouting like animals, grunting like invincible warriors, so excited about what was to come.

Kinda like homecoming pics, but blood and pain are not usually associated with homecoming.

I was not allowed to return for the actual cut - only the local men can witness what happens. I could have gone to witness the girls experience, but I don't know if I really need to see that. More cermonies are happening in the next week, so perhaps I'll have more stories soon.

Sunset - silhouetting the Dr. Seuss trees.

2007-11-18T03:08:00.000-07:00

Last night I was taken from dancing in the mud-hut-kerosene lamp-illuminated kitchen with my little 3-year-old temporary sister Paranai to witness the eradication of thousands of "Safari Ants" from the sheep's quarters. My brothers used flaming old clothing soaked in kerosene to burn them on the ground and walls surrounding the little sheep shanty. My first encounter with these little buggers was months ago when I was searching for monkeys with 2 brothers. They had tiptoed over an area that looked harmless to me saying "Safari Ants!" so I speedily tip-toed as well, but 1/2 km later, I felt a severe pain in my navel. Somehow, one of these travelers had made his way up my legs to this very sensitive place on the body. I have heard that they go for the orifices and if you are not strong or conscious, (like the babies and elderly and sick that the ants have been known to kill) they will invade the whole body... what an awful way to go. So a little navel bite wasn't bad.

2007-11-09T04:53:00.000-07:00

Two vehicles came creeping over the ridge on the other side of the valley from home. Their lights contrasted sharply with the starless darkness of 9:30 p.m. At their destination, woman began to shout, shriek, yell - an instant notification that the body of the deceased father/ husband/ son had arrived from Nairobi. These shouts can mean so many things, and although everyone in this 21st century Kenya has a cell phone, the vocal alert system travels faster and farther than any modern technology. The Maasai used to leave a dead body and move all possessions to a new place. Or if they knew someone would soon die, they might tie him up in the bush and abandon him there. Now they don't fear dead bodies, but they insist that the body spends the night before the burial in the house. The next day a funeral service is held, attended by hundreds of community members - people pray (if it's a Christian funeral, and maybe if it's not?), speak, sing, eat, cry... so many people are involved - all trying to ease the pain of the family and closest friends. The community support is impressive. If the deceased is male, he is buried where the cows dwell, if female, right outside the Boma na Ngombe (Cow House). So that is it.

___________________________________

In the last few weeks, at least 10 secondary schools in Kenya, most if not all boarding schools, have been vandalized - burned - by students who are rebelling. They rebel against teachers who cane them. I fear that discipline is mixed up here… I think physical punishment can be justified – most teachers insist that it’s the only way with African children – but this of course must be done not out of violence or anger, but out of a sincere desire to help this person improve, and should be used only if a stern voice which demands respect is not successful. Even at our school I see the teachers treating the students with something that we wouldn’t call respect. I think I’d be tempted to burn the school down, too.

___________________________________

Rain comes frequently… gently… then it grows to a solid downpour. On a tin roof, even a drizzle becomes a deafening power which forces everyone irresistibly into an afternoon nap - any other activity is impossible - even thought is difficult when the storm grows. Sometimes, somehow, a violent thrashing sweeps over the mountain furiously. I love it. Twice I’ve been under a roof, viewing these batterings which sometimes include hail. As soon as the rain stops, the students run out and find remaining pieces of ice that they fill their mouths with… a tasty sensation unlike any other on the mountain. The hail bounces up only a few inches in the grass, but the wind takes it meters away as if it were Styrofoam peanuts. The same wind whips over tin rooftops creating a scene from the weather channel’s coverage of a hurricane. If a storm only skirts the mountain, the viewing pleasure is even better – down in the valleys I can see the storm moving, its edge distinct. Within the raindrops I can see clouds of white dots of hail. The weather is powerful… the source of the weather must be more powerful.

2007-11-06T03:21:00.000-07:00

My little sister Tiptip and the sun-filled raindrops. When it rains enough, the girls don't have to take the donkeys down to the "river" (trickle) to get water for drinking , cooking, and bathing... I think the girls like the rain.

Moi and Peter in the sunset in front of Peter's house and future kitchen. Peter is the go-to guy and Moi is the doctor and teacher.

One of the older classrooms with little Lekishon (Aaron) posing. Lekishon likes Wazungu (white folks)

2007-11-06T02:39:00.000-07:00

I went to a political rally in Kilgoris and saw the president. It was pretty exciting when he arrived... people began to push, trying to get a glimpse of their Head of State, soldiers and policemen begain to beat those who pushed too much, children and mothers cried as they were trampled. But I saw Kibaki.

These women were part of one group of entertainers for the rally. Traditional Maasai attire.

Maize

2007-10-21T13:51:00.001-06:00

2007-10-17T04:20:00.000-06:00

These siblings often take care of the cows after school down the hill from school. I took my camera out to capture the sunset, and unknowingly transformed these kids into super-hyper Maasai children.

Every day the sky is different. I enjoy the irregularity - it reminds me of Denver.

2007-10-11T02:34:00.000-06:00

I fear some of what I posted was derogatory and exaggerated. Certainly there are things that can improve in the States as well. Maybe I should post my comments on American marriage and family values and materialism to even things out. But for now, know that East Africa, specifically Kenya, is a wonderful place with much hope and vast potential, some of which has already begun to be realized.

Joseph spoke the other night about profit. We often are forced to talk about money, and as we were doing that, he explained what true profit is. He explained that profit in his mind and profit for TMD is the number of people that are developed. What a brilliant, selfless, God's-will-seeking attitude.

2007-10-04T03:43:00.003-06:00

September.

Before I begin – I appreciate comments and feedback, and if anyone wants to come to visit, please know that you would be warmly welcomed. Or if someone knows someone who would be interested in teaching for a while here… that could be arranged. And like 85% of Kenyan adults, I have a cell phone here, so if you want to call, my # is 254 710 163 811. There are cheap ways to call here – investigate online if you want.

Now

The matatu…. I’m sure many travelers to east Africa go home and tell their friends about the matatu - and for good reasons. The matatu is one of the most uncomfortable modes of transportion on the planet. There are men in Asia who designed a great vehicle that would hold 10 or 11 people…Toyota and Nissan took this design and mass produced it… people in Kenya bought many of these vehicles, but they had a different idea than the designer in Asia. These Africans managed to fit 14 seats in these vehicles instead of the intended 10, and put cheap speakers in the upper corners and stuck stickers all over these windows and named them things like “sweet mum” and the Swahili equivalent for “suspect.” Then drivers began to move people around… but they realized that if they squeezed a few more people in their matatu, they would make more money… so 10 had become 14 and 14 became 16-24… that’s right, 24. Granted, 2 were children, but still, in/hanging on to the equivalent of little more than a dodge caravan, were 24 people. And this wouldn’t be horrible, but the roads were poorly paved 20 years ago and have since fallen apart so that if one was to drive on the paved road, he would be sacrificing his suspension in a 1-hour drive. So instead, they drive in the dirt on the side of the road which is on a 15 degree incline… Now imagine with me - if you are on the outside… the downside… the weight of 4 or 5 people is bearing down on you, grinding your shoulder into spiky, unfinished welding where the window was recently repaired. So your shirt is thrashed, your hair has a lovely coating of African red earth on it (it is beautiful on the ground, but not as much when it’s in your hair) from the open windows (I suppose “fresh” dusty, smoggy air is better than B+O+24), there is a chicken under your feet, expressing its discomfort with occasional shrieks from below, tinny reggae blasts out of the speaker that you are forced to rest your ear on, and 2 barely audible mobile phones keep ringing, but nobody seems to know whose they are. Perhaps I will later explain the inconsistency in schedule, the frequent police checks (bribe stations), and I will talk about the common stoppages that occur for no apparent reason, when all the passengers are asked to get off and switch to another one of these beautiful MATATUS.

I had a brief, minor, uncomfortable bout with a disease they have here. It’s spread by mosquitoes. Maybe you’ve heard of it – Malaria. My head and body hurt a bit, and I had to rest on the way up the mountain, which I never normally do, because I felt pretty weak… the perpetual headache made me suspect the possibility of me having this disease that I was terrified about (I read a violently realistic and accurate article about malaria in July’s National Geographic before I came), but then one morning I woke up and felt okay, so I foolishly postponed a quick blood test until the symptoms returned a few days later. I was in Nairobi for a few days, trying to accomplish tasks, when my head and neck and spine again began to ache. It was fairly unpleasant, but didn’t floor me. It kicked in shortly before I checked into a hostel, hoping for a single room, but I was forced into a “dorm”- 4 beds in one room. I dozed off a bit under my net that is supposed to keep the little buggers off me, (at home there are very few mosquitoes… nobody sleeps with nets) and at about 2 or 3 in the morning, I discovered that I was sharing the room with a Korean couple. The last thing one wants when one has malaria is for a Korean couple to come into one’s room after one has managed to briefly enter the safety of R.E.M., but they came in with volume and brightness… I wish I had had a remote. And all I could think about until 10 that morning was the feeling in my head – a feeling that prevents all thought, except thought of that feeling. I went to the memorial park of the 1998 bombings of both the Kenyan and Tanzanian U.S. Embassies, temporarily numbing my pain with the attention to the greater pain of the victims of that awful day. Even though they hurt, at least my head and neck and spine were still intact – connected to my body. When it opened, I got tested at a small clinic, and it was determined that I had some parasites in the blood. I paid the white person price for drugs, and the next morning (after fleeing the hostel and the Koreans and staying with a friend at the suburban villa of a lawyer/ government man), I felt much better.

Speaking of government: In December, Kenya will elect a man who will be president for the next 5 years. The main 2 candidates are the existing president – Mwai Kibaki, and his opponent, Raila Odinga. Every day, the first few pages of the papers are full of articles about the campaigns and rallies and thugs who interrupt rallies with their bows and arrows (not super-frequent). And every where I go, I see people with the paper, and I daily hear people talking about the election. And these people are wisely concerned with local politics as well as the national on-goings. So there’s a family friend named Julius Sunkuli who was MP (minister of parliament) for Trans Mara District several years ago and has been very involved in the national government ever since. It was his house that I nursed myself back to functionality, and the next weekend attended a rally at his other home in Trans Mara – a 40 minute walk from my home. I was as usual the only Mzungu (white person) in this crowd of at least 800, and shortly after I sat with the others, I was escorted with Joseph – my “father” into the home for tea and a pre-rally chat with the Honorable Julius Sunkuli. Soon after this, we were brought into another building to eat lunch. This hexagonal building had been officially opened in 1998 by the British High Council – big meetings were sometimes held here. This was the only carpeted building I’ve been in since arriving here. Carpet is very comforting especially after 3 months of concrete and tile and dirt. So here I sat with government leaders… eating meat from the bull that was butchered for this gathering… in a place where crazy decisions had been made by very “important people.” Then we sat out in his yard, trying to stay in the shade, and listened to 25 people from the community speak. Joseph – my “father” – was one of these people. I didn’t understand much, but these people sat interested for hours… and this leads me out of a story and into thought: these people who struggle for everyday survival… who live in mud huts… who are mostly uneducated… who know very little about how things really work… they are so interested in politics. They spend so much time thinking and talking about politics, about parties, about the men who wear nice suits and arrive at events in nice cars and speak about “big things”. But they rarely think critically about their own situation… about what they might do to make more money to pay for school fees or food for their children. This is unfair to some, but I see so much more devotion to this animal – this game – called politics than I see to individual betterment… maybe they think that if the man they vote for wins, somehow their situation will improve. But will it? I see very little evidence of national government doing anything for rural Kenya. Maybe the people just need an escape, though… something to talk about and think about that is so far away from their own situation… but they rarely talk about policies or plans, instead, they talk about parties- who merged with who, or which tribe a candidate comes from. After all, if a man is not circumcised (Raila's tribe is called Luo, and most Luo are uncircumcised), can he really lead a nation? (I humbly make one more disclaimer – these are the thoughts of a person who has been in the country for 3 months… not necessarily the reality of Kenyan politics.)

There are still many frustrations… maybe we should call them challenges. I will share more of these soon. But I learn so much daily about myself and humans and God, and I am always trying to keep everything in perspective - and when I shut up for a while and manage to shut down my mind and look at the moon or sunset or crazy storm clouds or stars or lightning or the unending African landscape - I can easily do that.

2007-09-12T01:57:00.000-06:00

August.

Development. When we talk about developing a nation or in my case – a community – we talk about developing the education programs, the social programs, and the economic programs, often in western terms – according to western models. That can sometimes be detrimental. There exists here – in the republic of Kenya - in the province of Rift Valley - in the district of Trans Mara - in the division of Kilgoris - in the location of Poroko - in the village of Ilchartuyiani – a beautiful culture in which “8:00 a.m.” means “sometime in the morning” - in which a 1-hour walk quickly turns into 2 because of impromptu conversations along the route - in which even a quick visit to a friend’s home results in 4 cups of tea and a detailed summary of your life since the last visit (even if that was yesterday) - in which funerals and weddings last for 3-5 days and are attended not only by friends and family, but also by friends of friends and family of family – many who walk for hours to show their support – in which the sounds you hear are from cow bells and the whistles and songs of the young shepherds – in which every visitor is greeted with song and dance and the viewing pleasure of traditional costumes that are only worn on special occasions – in which stories are often told by elders about lions or hyenas… the mutual respect in the relationships with these animals, and the reverent battles and killing of the same – in which if a cow is stolen, news travels by a specific shout. The word is spread quicker than if it was texted or emailed and within minutes, the community comes together to find the cows and the thief – they are their own police.

But they want to “develop”. They want to improve things. So here I am trying to help them do that.

But how do I do that without drastically changing the way they have lived for centuries? How do I explain that instead of stopping to talk to his sister’s husband’s son’s nephew about his maize harvest, a teacher needs to be on time to school – in the classroom when the bell rings? How do I explain that it is okay to teach more than 2 classes in a day – to work for 8 hours – to work on lesson plans at night, at home? How do I explain that is okay to charge more money for a necklace than it cost to produce it?

Pastor/ Director/ Godfather/ Baba Yangu (my father)/ Joseph Teleu has many plans and goals and dreams. Most nights we sit in the dimly lit living room after dinner and sip on tea and discuss the future of the community. He inspires me to do what I can to help him and this community accomplish these dreams. In the past 10 years, he – with the help of the church and community members – has built a community development program – Trans Mara Community Development Program (TMD) which includes:

-Pre-school
-Primary school
-Secondary school
-Women’s project – including jewelry and soap production and sale
-Early childhood development (ECD) training – college level
-Computer classes – to prepare those interested in further school or a career that requires computer skills
-Tailoring school – including sale of clothing – mainly school uniforms
-Clinic – health and nutrition needs
-Orphan project – currently an orphanage structure is under construction to eventually house 64 orphans from the region
-Agriculture project – we have agriculture specialists coming to see if we can produce higher yields, and we hope they can help us in the formation of a dairy, which would be a men’s project.

And there are other pending projects that Joseph will remind me of later. So this truly is a program that attempts to address the needs of this community holistically, and I am honored to be so generously accepted into it.

One of the best places for me is in the classroom with “the Future”. I teach as I have been taught – I open minds not necessarily to western ideas, but to newness… new thought… creativity. Even though this village is not western in education, society, and economics, the cities nearby are, and the potential employment options for these students have different standards than the village – and so in order to truly enable these children, they must be exposed to these other ideas. In many situations here we use the saying “T.I.A.” (This is Africa), but as one of the community leaders said to me the other day, T.I.A. does not apply at school – music to my ears.

Michael Lee and Mindy Jones from Georgia were here for a couple weeks and presented us with dreams and ideas. It was so good to be able to dialogue with Americans about what is going on here. They recently created an NGO – Reinforcement International – that aims to support existing NGO’s or CBO’s across the globe with trained volunteers or possible funding options. They came as no one has ever come here before – with a specific business-minded approach to the improvement of Ilchartuyiani. We hadn’t prepared appropriately – we thought they would be here longer and wanted to introduce them to the people, to visit homes, but that contradicted their plan and even if they scheduled meetings, a home visit would take longer than expected and the meeting would be postponed. So there were many frustrating moments, but it was still a very beneficial time and certainly a great relationship has been formed and will be maintained.

It’s so challenging sometimes to even communicate and it is futile to try to start a meeting at a specific time – mainly due to the laid back attitude and atmosphere – which I wholeheartedly embrace, until a task is to be completed. For example, we wanted to construct a message board that will be used to inform the community of upcoming meetings or school schedules, and will be an example of organized communication for the residents and students. Two hours after we went to town to look for materials, we left town with nothing because we decided we had everything we needed at the TMD campus. I’m beginning to learn how to communicate and I am beginning to realize how much preparation is required before embarking upon any task, even seemingly very simple projects.

The lack of organization and tolerance of inefficiency both frustrate me sometimes, but I daily see steps taken by those teachers and community leaders who know how things ought to be done that encourage me to patiently take similar small steps.

I seek wisdom in everything I do and say, because without a wisdom that considers the status of this culture, all decisions will be forcefully western and often inappropriate.

Please think about these people and pray for success in implementing some more professional practices in this community, and also for a constant patience and accurate understanding of the Maasai so that all progress will occur in a culture-sensitive manor.

2007-09-02T17:46:00.000-06:00

I wish I could have my hammer, a skilsaw, and consistent 2x4's, but It was great to help my brother Martin build his house. I hope to move in with him in a couple weeks (real Maasai men do not live in their mother's house).

My neighbors were burning the leftovers from the bean harvest. I pass their home every morning and evening and get inspired and uplifted when the children run to me saying, "Lemiso, Lemiso!" They are quickly satisfied as I bless each of them by touching their heads.

Many pastors from the area took part in the dedication of our new orphanage building. It will eventually house about 60 orphans.

The orphans come on Saturdays to the school to play sing, and eat more than they do most days. Here they enjoy porridge complements of USAID.

I travelled to Nunguni with my brother Dan to take him back to his secondary school. This is the town as the sun set. Although most times of the day these streets are hectic and depressing, sunset brings an encouraging light to the scene.

2007-09-01T00:20:00.000-06:00

I attended an Amaranth Conference in Nairobi this weekend. It was sponsored by the PEC (Poverty Eradication Committee) of Kenya and held at the KICC (Kenyatta International Conference Center- pictured above). Many people refer to Amaranth as a wonder grain. Surely it could improve the health and nutrition of Ilchartuyiani (my village), and because of its growing popularity, it could be an wonderful income-generating cash-crop for anyone who is serious about growing it. So I plan to take what I learn back to the village... to teach them more about it, and to encourage them to take advantage of this enriching opportunity.

2007-07-19T05:35:00.002-06:00

These students are walking home from class. Some walk for more than an hour... sometimes barefoot. Most seem happy but very passive. They are sent home if they don't pay the small tuition. I've been teaching math and social studies to grades 5, 6, and 7, and have been involved in some of the secondary school activities as well. It will take me a while to understand the irrelevancy of the posted schedule, and how caning is an appropriate and effective tool of discipline.

2007-05-28T21:07:00.000-06:00

I set this up to share my experiences with all who might be interested...