Gorge Myself

Well, the past weekend was spectacular. James and Angela are two med students from Britain who are volunteering at the same facility, and we have been doing alot together lately. We decided to strike out towards Lake Naivasha NP, which should be about an hour away, but in reality is 3 1/2 hours due to the patch of land that vaguely resembles a road. We arrived at Lake Naivasha Country Club, which is the only place you can catch a boat to Cresent Island on the lake. When I say it was like Jurassic Park, I truly mean it. It is one of the few places where you can walk on foot through wildlife legally in Africa. No fences, just you and the animal: mano y mano. I stood less than 10' from a giraffe, had a field of wildebeest, zebra, waterbucks and gazelles part like the Red Sea to allow us to amble on through, and, finally, saw hippos in broad daylight - in all their hulking purple fat glory. We only dared get about 20 yards from them... Monkeys, eagles and even wild horses were some of the other animals we saw. To get to walk through the place was really special, and this really isn't on the main tourist circuit, which really baffles me.

We moved on from there to camp near Hell's Gate NP, just a short ride away. We had very ambitious plans of starting out at 06:30 the next morning to avoid the mid-day heat, but got going around 09:00, due to our discovery of Vat 69 whiskey.

Now, I love hiking a gorge. You give me something to climb on or through and I am a happy camper. Anything that resembles my first gorge, the Samaria, in Crete, really gets me going. Add to that the cool factor of this one being in Africa, and I am really excited. Then layer on the fact that it was where Angelina Jolie filmed Tomb Raider II and that about seals it. (It seems as though I subconsciously really enjoyed the Tomb Raider movies, as I have followed them from Cambodia to Kenya. Then again, maybe it was just Angelina...)

We hired mountain bikes from our camp and took off! Straight up a mountain!

Yeah, that part totally sucked as bad as it sounded. But, we did this consciously for the cooler morning weather and the assured descent in the afternoon. The region along this hill/mountain is one of great wealth in Kenya, due to it flower farms. Entire villages are formed around these farms, paid for by the owners to entice workers to the area, due to the poor wages. Soccer fields, housing projects, bars, etc. are all placed as bait. We rode past all of this to the park entrance, where we bargained for resident rates, as we actually do work at a public hospital. After much negotiating we were in. We rode past the geothermal power plants, which are eventually to supply the entire country with electricity and on into Hell's Gate. It is very aptly named, as it is really hot and really dusty. You leave your bikes at the park rangers station and hike down into the gorge. Amazing erosion patterns are around every turn. Boiling water pools overflow down rock faces which nourish a covering of dark green algae. Waterfalls shower you at irregular intervals. Sunlight creates all kinds of dancing shadows off the undulating wall surfaces and overhangs. Really magical place.

After exiting the gorge, we had to make the final leg of the bike journey. I was really whipped at this point due to lack of good sleep (really cold night and aforementioned Vat 69) , being in the sun all day, and 30, I guess. The path out of the park was through huge fields flanked by high rock cliffs that were glowing red by the time we rolled through. Monkeys were in the trees, warthogs, gazelles, zebras and numerous other animals were all around. We made it back to camp, showered in really cold outdoor showers and headed back to Nakuru.

We did this instead of listening to our bodies messages of "Sit Down! Lay Down!! Just Don't Move!!", due to the fact that we had chosen to put on soccer matches for the street boys of Nakuru, followed by a proper lunch. I teamed up with ICROSS members to help set this up with a former street boy, who now runs a rehabilitation center for these abandoned 5 to 20 year olds. Basically, they usually come from a normal family, but the father can't afford to support them everyone, so he leaves, and then the mother can't support them, so she leaves, and the boys are left to fend for themselves on the streets. At night, you can walk around and see these guys carrying a bag, looking in all of the road-side stalls for one that he can sleep in. They beg during the day, and I'm sure, steal when they have no other resort. What's really sad to me, is that most of them go around sniffing glue. They just walk around with a bottle "attached" to their nose. Mwangi, the former street boy, said they do it to get high and forget their problems, but also to reduce their appetite, as they can go days without eating. All of them look like they were dipped in mud after having their clothes/rags thrown under a lawn mower.

So, we had them come out to the pitch (soccer field) and we had at least 3 good games. Kenyans really love their soccer, so the games were played amazingly well. No fouls, no arguing. Afterwards we fed 70-80 of them a huge plate of rice, potatoes, peas, meat and pineapple flavored cordial. They definitely liked the food and games, but really did not like us trying to take away their glue as "admission price" for the food. Basically we had to just give up on that and just let them go. Still a really great thing to be a part of, and a massive success in organizing, as this is Africa.

So, needless to say, I was in the sun all day Saturday and Sunday. Still can't pass for a local, but I am getting there.

Cathy came today for another adjustment for her socket, which went perfectly. So, Thursday is the day (as it stands now...) for her fitting and "first steps." Also, I will be joining the Keoch family for their Christmas dinner on the 24th. Due to the abundance of generosity from you guys, there is a little extra money from the "prosthetic drive". I was thinking of 2 things: 1) buying a goat for her entire family to use or eat, or 2) give the entire remainder to help with her school fees next year. I was hoping to solicit everyone's opinion/vote on this. The leading vote-getter I will make happen. If there is a tie, I guess I will just chose...

Cast your vote!

Sick of Kenya...

... in my stomach. So, I knew at some point I would get sick over here. Never turning down an opportunity to eat new things will do that to you eventually. But, I found that here, once it happens, your mind starts running away with itself over the possibilities. Looking back, it was simply food that did not agree with me, my political views or thoughts on life. But, as I laid there in bed at 5PM on Sunday and I started to feel hot and feverish, I started going over all of the scenarios: malaria, TB, some yet-to-be-discovered and completely incurable disease, or possibly the first Kenyan case of Ebola brought in from the outbreak in Uganda. I didn't notice blood coming from any orifices, so I was fairly sure that I would live another day. I think only Leslie and Nicole have seen me sicker off of food, but this time, no IV was required thankfully. I just medicated myself to the max and all things seemed to settle and since this is Tuesday, I think I am out of the woods.


I recovered enough to go see Lydia, the other volunteer, off back to Nairobi for her flight. There was many a blessing and prayer said by the locals for safe travels. They use the word Jehovah about a hundred times, but I haven't seen anybody knocking on doors, so I will continue to look into this...

Cathy's leg is still on schedule for a pre-Christmas delivery. This despite the standard Kenyan delays and problems, including the person in charge of prosthetics trying to rip off all of us who have contributed and, most importantly, Cathy. As far as I can figure, he just tried to switch cheaper, worse components for the really good ones I ordered, and had agreed on, hoping that I would not notice, and, then he would pocket the difference. No one should worry, as I handled it like the cool-headed, serene, calm and amicable person you all know me as. Oh, sorry, that might have been from some book I've read... While not the most ingratiating or tactful comments followed, I did manage to get my point across. When I feel cheated, thats one thing. When, because of me, my friends and family are about to be cheated, thats another thing. And then, when someone is trying to essentially steal from an 18 year old girl, with no leg, thats a completely different level of another thing. Thankfully, I have Vitalis to back me up, and he is fully, and is also, now, the main cog in getting things done. Plus, I am now very glad that I squashed my thoughts about being "rude" by demanding to only give a deposit for the components, with the remainder only after completion.

I hope that you guys don't read too much into this. Its pretty much par for the course over here. On one side are the vast majority of Kenyans, happy with life and whatever they have. The minority, though, sees white skin and is determined to see what they can extort from the situation. This percentage is highly concentrated in those who have the most here: the employed, ones with homes and cars, politicians, etc. I even had one guy from work ask me, with Cathy in direct view, if I could help sponsor his Masters degree.

Its those who have the least who expect nothing and are so thankful and amazed at what you do for them. This is Cathy and her family.

Cathy

So, it has been increasingly tough over the past week or so. The grind of daily life in Nakuru is pretty staggering. The stares at my skin (despite my best tanning efforts), the sure lung cancer I will have from the dirt/grim/dust, and more recently the apparent infatuation with my window by a cow and rooster at around 4 AM all seemed to be wearing on me. It is certainly the harshest environment I have been in.

I mentioned in a past post of my perfect little travel moments. Moments experienced when acute awareness of the site I am viewing, the people I am visiting with, or the view I am staring at come into clear focus in my mind.

Yesterday, I experienced something that actually had meaning. Something so grand that, for the first time in a long time, my logical mind could not understand it, my rational nature could not break it down, to take emotion out of the equation. When Cathy and her mother told me that they both cried for an hour when Vitalis told them that she would soon have a leg, that she would walk again, I was frozen. Frozen with an inability to recognize, understand or fathom the feeling it evoked in me. Their tears then, as they told me, in addition to saying that I was a gift directly from God further enhanced my inability to speak, move or think. If ever I have, or will, experience a moment that transcends "meaning," it was this moment with Cathy and her mother. If ever there was something to make me forget about any struggle I am experiencing here, it was hearing their words.

I hope that those who have contributed to this can share in even a small part of what it "meant", as my words can only capture a fraction of what it was.

Thank you.


So, yesterday Cathy was casted for the socket of her prosthetic. Tomorrow, I will accompany the director to Nairobi to purchase her other components. It really looks as if she will receive her leg before Christmas. Simply awe-some. I have been invited to spend an evening with her and her family for supper. Being stupid, I asked what they normally have for Christmas dinner, and they replied "Whatever we have been able to grow." I could have shot myself right about then for being so amazingly unaware and inconsiderate.

So, sometime around Christmas, I will go.

And, I will enjoy whatever they have growing.

Hippos and Protecting the Gonads of Africans

Over the weekend, I was able to travel up to Lake Baringo NP. This place is famed the world over for its winged wildlife. Home to hundreds of different birds, the place definitely lived up to its billing. However, for me, the most fascinating thing I saw, I could barely see. As the matatu trip itself wore me out, I was in my tent pretty early. At some pint during the night I was awakened by a deep, cackling, burst of a "roar". Not having ever heard this in my life, I still had serious doubts that this came from a bird. So, peering out from my screened tent, I saw a massive, hulking creature the size of a Honda CRV... 10 feet from my tent. Now, I had been warned that hippos might be on shore during the night, and was further warned to NEVER take a flash photo, as it would turn hippo on me and try to crush anything in its path back to water. I decided to listen to this bit. I was still able to unzip the cover and get an unfiltered view of my first hippo, who was hiding behind it, a baby hippo. Now I really got nervous thinking about it charging me if the wind happened to blow a leaf into its eye or something. Thankfully, its so hot here that not many leaves remain on the branches for that to happen. It managed to eat its fill of grass and then retreat back to the water. Over the course of the night, I must have seen 10 hippos, all within 100' radius of my tent. It was truly breathtaking to see these hulking creatures evolve out of the darkness, lit for moments by the full moon peering through the branches. Waking up the next morning, me, Lydia (the other volunteer) and the 2 Israelis we met at dinner at the "Thirsty Goat" camp restaurant, went out on a boat tour of the lake. While I can say that bird watching does not thrill me like a certain trampling death from a 2 ton animal outside my tent, the place was teeming with so many birds that it floored me, nonetheless. Eagles diving into the water for fish, lizards sunning on rocks, teams of swallows and other crazy looking birds made it worth getting up at 06:30 after having not slept much. If people could please email me more ways to say "amazing", I would be appreciative.

A side note, Israelis must be the toughest people on the planet. The ones I have met have a total disregard for conventional means, personal safety, and tact, especially when it comes to personal space. A few Kenyan touts (people responsible for convincing you that their bus is better than the one you are already on) who were trying to pull their arms away from the bus they were entering found this out real quick. Strangely, this was very similar to my first Israeli female encounter at the Cambodian border, the verbal lashing so amazingly abusive that she almost got the whole lot of us stranded. At least that one was in English, so I understood the pounding the Cambodian took. This however, devolved into a Hebrew lashing no one but the 2 Israelis knew the specifics of, but everyone certainly knew of the meaning. Needless to say, they got on the right bus... the one they wanted. My respect for them continues to grow.

Now on to the gonads. It seems as though the biggest therapy achievement that I will have here comes in the form of an idea I had about why so many clubfoot babies were crying uncontrollably after corrective casting treatments. It has been frustrating Vitalis immensely. Upon viewing the methods, I happened to notice a lack of space for the boys' essentials between the two casts. So, after looking back on the reports for only two weeks, it was fairly easy to see that bilaterally effected males (needing casts on both legs) were the ones coming back with the casts removed by their parents. So, a simple bar included in the plaster mold, holding the legs enough apart to allow for some gonadal freedom has seemed to do the trick. Vitalis can't stop smiling every time he now uses it, calling it the "Meella" (Miller) method." It feels good knowing that it will be used after I leave.

My lasting gift to Kenyans? Healthy gonads.

Nuts, isn't it?

A Bit About Africa

About the environment of my town and life. I have started to count the progressive layers of dust I acquire on my walk just from my home to the main road. Averaging about 2.5 layers (every time a car drives by, the wind blows, or a butterfly flaps its wings in Mongolia), I think. In general, if you offer an African a better/more efficient way of doing things, they will very politely nod and say "yes, yes, that is a good idea!" then go back to doing it the same way. All of Kenya is on what I call AST, African Standard Time. Its somewhere between half-past that and a quarter of this. No one wears watches, which may be the culprit. What they say one minute will certainly change in another, and if you alert them to this fact and ask for clarification, you are going to get a 3rd answer. Basically, I just do what I want and think is best, and no one really minds.

There is a scarcity of jobs. So much so, that probably a 3rd of the people working for the hospital are designated as volunteers. They have gone through school, but with there being no jobs, they work gaining no income from the government, and rely on small gifts from patients and the paid therapists.

Politics is especially important these days as the December 24th presidential vote looms. Everyone talks about PNU vs ODM candidates. Obama's family is related to the ODM candidate/tribe.

I treated a UN Sudanese peace-keeping force member today. 29 years old, Muslim, extremely bright, named Juma. Talking about the world issues with him was amazingly interesting. Learned that his imam in his Mombasa mosque loved Clinton and actively promoted integration and understanding with the US back in 92-93 when Bill was elected. He could not say what the imam thought about Hilary... he has been involved in war the past 8 years. He broke his hand playing soccer and will return to Sudan in 2 weeks to rejoin the peace force.