I Wonder If I will See ...

I am about to embark on my fourth trip to Kenya since September 2007. The previous trips all lasted about a month as will this one. But during all these trips, I haven't seen a wild animal close up.

That's not quite true. on my first trip, I was driving from Nairobi to Kisii, via Nakuru, and while on the floor of the Rift Valley, a small herd of zebra weaved is way through the almost stationary traffic, passing immediately in front of us. There were also  a few baboons sitting on the rocks at the side of the road, watching us go by.

On my second trip, travelling from Kisii to Nairobi by matatu, I saw, in the distance, a herd of giraffe mingling with a herd of goats, tended by a very small (Maasai?) boy. He looked very small against the giraffe.

Other than that, I have seen lizards scampering across the walls of every home I have stayed in, the largest cockroaches in the world (probably), and a centipede as think as my little finger.

In Kisii, close to the  house, there are a lot of raptor birds who nest along the river. They are good to watch, but when they are the only wildlife to be seen for a couple of weeks, the novelty wears off.

While staying at the coast, I saw a hedgehog wandering around the compound in broad daylight. The kids were delighted until they realised that it could not be stroked!

So this time, will I actually see what Kenya is famous for? A lion, or rhino, perhaps a hippo, an elephant, or my personal favourite cat, a cheetah would be nice.

It would make a change from the goats, cattle, chickens and dogs that roam in, around and through every town and village.

When I was in South Africa, twenty years ago (OMG, was it that long ago?), I visited two game parks regularly, as well as the Sandton Lion Park and a reptile park, not too far from home. I made the most of my stay there. I was licked by a giraffe, charged at by a rhino, and hissed at by a puff adder.

(Note: I don't recommend the being charged at by a rhino experience. It was bigger than our car.)

So, I think it is about time I experienced some of the animals of Kenya that aren't found sharing my bedroom / compound / shoes / food, or that aren't destined to become my dinner one day.

We'll see.

More KCIS on the BBC

As the UK representative of Kenyan Community Initiative Support, I have been invited to appear* on BBC Radio Berkshire again, immediately after my next trip to Kenya, that is 14th December.

We have been there before, twice now, on Clare Catford's Sunday Faith programme, but this invitiation is for the weekday afternoon programme presented by Sarah Walker, who has a "Desert Island Disks" slot from 3 to 4 pm.

A whole hour of free promotion of our cause. That can't be bad.

*Not strictly an appearance if it is radio. What is the right word?

Stacey Dooley; Where Did She Pop Up From?

... and I don't mean Luton Airport (like Lorraine Chase).

With little else to watch on the 40 or so channels I receive on TV, I was channel-flipping when I came across a programme, Stacey Dooley Investigates. As it was about Cote d'Ivoire, I stopped flicking and kept one eye on the box.

My immediate impressions was that the investigator was a young air-head looking for fame. Oh, how wrong I was!

Stacey Dooley may be young, but she is no air-head wafting in from Luton Airport. She is not a "professional" broadcaster, but what she lacks in experience, she more than makes up for with genuine passion and feeling for kids who are unscrupulously exploited for the desires of the developed world - fashion clothes from India and chocolate from Cote d'Ivoire.

OK, it is true that only a small number of children in a small village will benefit from her efforts. She managed to re-open a classroom at the local village school. One more and the school will be recognised by the government and will then be supported.

One small step. But it also brought home to us, the fashion-loving, chocolate-munching developed world, just how we get these delights that we don't even think about.

How kids are working 12 hours a day to produce T-shirts. How small kids with machetes are harvesting the beans to make our chocolate. Now, I look at a bar of chocolate and think of those children.

Judging from comments on Stacey's Facebook and on YouTube, I guess I am not the only person to be moved by her programmes.

So, all I can say is 10/10 for effort, Stacey. I hope you take up a career as a reporter of child exploitation in the future (if you haven't already). And I hope that you will visit us in Kenya one day. We could show you a thing or two.

Kisii - Here I Come

I have finally managed to book the flight for my next visit to Kisii in Kenya. I nearly didn't manage it - I had been monitoring the fares for the three carriers that fly direct from Heathrow to JKIA and they had remained stable for a while at around £390 return, which i find reasonable.

However, yesterday, I was finally in a position to actually book the flight, so logged on to the Kenya Airways website, only to find that the fare had increased to £491, £101 more than I could afford.

My heart sank, as the three carriers usually follow the trend together. But not willing to give up, I logged on to the Virgin Atlantic site and was overjoyed to find that their prices hadn't increased. But, I have to phone to book with Virgin Atlantic as their on-line payment system does not recognise my debit card, Maestro.

45 minutes of musak later, I had booked my flight [at this point, I would like to say that the VA booking staff are first-rate] and a couple of minutes later, my e-ticket was in my email Inbox!

So, I am leaving the UK on 11 November, arriving at Jomo Kenyatta on 12th at 9:05am, and should be in Kisii in time for tiffin.

During my stay, I hope to meet like-minded people in Kisumu, Nakuru and eslewhere. I will also be working on perfecting the methane collector (otherwise known as the anaerobic digester), setting up rain harvesting at the Twiga Children's Centre, and finding a potter who can make some clay gadgets that could be popular.

I will also be talking to the local council on various matters. I would love to see a few tourists visiting Kisii. It has a lot to offer, but I would not like to see it spoilt. Kisii is a typical dusty, chaotic African town with a lot of charm, but it would benefit from a little injection of tourist money. But the town needs to clean up, roadside rubbish is a big problem, but as a lot of it is vegetable waste, it could be composted. Some of it could even be used to make methane which can then be used to power generators or other static, petrol fuelled machinery.

I will attempt to footage for a new video showing the plight of orphans and vulnerable children in Kisii, including those at Twiga. Although I have a half-decent camcorder, I am not a film producer/director/cameraman, and although I have an idea as to what I want to show and how I want to show it, I don't know if I am capable. Only one way to find out!

Luckily, VA have not changed their baggage policy - yet - and I am allowed two pieces of hold baggage at 23kg each, as well as small hand luggage. This means that a lot of clothes and toys that were donated to the Twiga children will finally get there.

Power Cuts

We have just suffered yet another micro-power cut. These are no long, but just long enough to crash all our computers, and I now need to tour the house to reset all the clocks and the central heating timer.

These usually occur during high winds, when trees touch the overhead power cables (yes, our village is still in the early 20th Century), but there is little wind today.

In Kenya, and particularly Kisii, we know when there is going to be a power cut. They usually occur when an electrical storm is approaching the town. But the town has a generator and after a few minutes without power, we can hear the old diesel engine fire up and a few minutes after that, we have flickery power back - usually.

I have learned to save my computer work when a storm is approaching, when in Kisii, so I rarely have a catastrophe. But here in the UK, although these micro-power cuts are frequent enough (and longer power cuts aren't unheard of, when a tree comes down and takes out a section of line), I cannot get used to them.

So, which do I prefer? Oh, definitely the Kenyan power cuts. they are predictable, to a degree, and we can almost rely on the diesel backup - almost.

False Starts & I'm Planning My Next Trip

How many blog posts have I started in the last few weeks, only to abandon them? Too many, either because the content is too political, inane, or just me bleating because I was feeling sorry for myself.

So, let's see if this one will actually get posted.

I am getting really irate with British politics at the moment - or rather, with British politicians. They have just returned from their extended Summer holiday to the row that was going on when they broke up for said recess, that is, their expenses.

It turns out that the former Home Secretary, Jacqui Smith, who declared that a room in her sister's home was her main residence and therefore had the right to spend a lot of taxpayers money on refurbishing her house in Redditch, has been told that she had broken the rules and should apologise to the House of Commons - not to the people whose money she stole (that's us, folks!).

Our illustrious leader, Gordon Brown, having paid back the money he creamed off the taxpayer, tells other MPs to toe the line, but some are apparently refusing to do so. I suppose that if they know they don't have a snowball's hope in Hell of being re-elected, they have nothing to lose. The elections next year promise to be ... er ... interesting!

Oh well, same old same old.

So, to calm myself down, I have been looking at my finances. That didn't work. Situation normal, empty barrel.

Well, almost. I do have just enough to get a return ticket to Nairobi, as long as I choose my dates very carefully. At this time of year, air fares can vary from just under £400 to close on £1,000, depending on the dates of travel, and, it would appear, the length of stay. And it is worth looking at all the carriers who fly to JKIA.

I usually use Kenya Airways. I like them. They are very professional, but at the same time are sort of relaxed - typically African.

Last time, I used Virgin Atlantic. That was also a good trip and T3 at Heathrow is something else. But their return flight is early morning which makes it difficult when travelling back from Kisii, which is 350km from Nairobi. On my last trip, to ensure catching the flight, I spent the night at the airport, which I do not recommend.

So, Kenya Airways it is. Night flights each way. And the date? Well, 10th November looks good to go out and probably 11th December for the return, although this may be a bit sooner.

So, if all this is decided, all I need to do now is let my aged parent know (I am her 24/7 live-in carer). This will be traumatic for the two of us. It will take a long time to convince her that I will be coming back.

And what will I do when I am in Kisii? A lot of people in the area want to meet up and discuss their projects with me. I think they hope that I will help with funding - I won't - I can't. I can barely fund our projects, although I have had an idea for a little money-earning project that may keep us going, and it could be rolled out in just about any town.

I must finish the design for the methane collector and drum up some interest for our mosquito control programme.

Then there is the hut on the shamba. It needs cleaning out, the windows need glazing and a means of getting water to it would be good.

And then there are the kids. I have promised myself to make a good video of their living conditions - those who are living in the worst circumstances. I have only visited the homes of a few. I need to see the others.

Busy, busy.

Oh well, if this blog gets posted, it means I have committed myself, doesn't it? After all, there are at least 10 people who read it!

Bio-gas and Aquatic Weeds

KCIS has a number of projects going at the moment, one of the big ones is the production of methane to be used as cooking fuel and a fuel for static petrol engines (generators, borehole pumps, etc.)

In the general scheme of things, methane collectors are fuelled with "organic matter", usually animal waste, of which there is an abundance in Kenya, with cattle and goats being everywhere.

But organic matter also includes plant life, and in particular, a certain aquatic weed that is causing major problems in Kenya, the water hyacinth.

I have not seen it first-hand, but I have read that the shallow waters in Lake Victoria are being choked by this plant, which isn't even native to Africa, let alone Kenya - it originates from South America.

My brain went into overtime when I read this. I was imagining a biogas processing plant somewhere on the shores of Lake Victoria processing tons of water hyacinth and producing methane to power a large power plant, with fertilser as a useful by product.

Not impossible, I admit. Water hyacinth lends itself to producing methane, but it would have to be dried out to some degree, then pulped or chopped up to assist rotting.

And KCIS? We are an organisation of three people with no regular funding. So what can we do to get things started? And of course, a project of this size would probably need government intervention, either at local or national level. And I cannot even imagine what sort of problems that would raise.

Since my first excitement, I have found that there are already organisations working on this, but cannot find out what stage they have reached.

So, I shall return to working on small household or community methane collectors, but I will maintain the dream of one day finding a way to minimise the hyacinth in Lake Victoria while at the same time producing virtually free fuel and fertiliser.

Typha is another water weed that causes problems in water ways. I have been told that it is edible. With the food crisis growing in East Africa, shouldn't someone be looking into this? Or are they? I can find no information, but if you know different, please let me know.

Trees, Charcoal and Rain

Once again I read that Africa is suffering because people are cutting trees for fuel and to produce charcoal. Generally, the charcoal production is illegal, but this can be sorted out with a back-hander - no change there then.

From what I have seen and heard on my trips to Kenya, the solar cooker, which can be made for pennies, are very efficient, but do not fit in with the East African psyche, they take too long to cook a meal. From my observations, it seems that Kenyans like to prepare and eat with little or no gap in between. So they need an instant heat source to cook on, wood, charcoal, kerosene or, if they are modern (and can afford it) butane gas.

So, trees will continue to be decimated until an alternative instant fuel is found, that is acceptable to those who have to use it.

You can read an article on the BBC website here

I have been working on methane collector design for a while now and have come up with a version that is easy and cheap to construct, and easy to use.

My contention is that if butane is acceptable, then so is methane. The difference is that methane occurs naturally, and to collect it is a simple matter. It is FREE!

Looking at its use ecologically, burning methane forms water and CO2, which is a good thing. Why? Because methane is 20 times more potent as a greenhouse gas than CO2, so it is far more acceptable to have CO2 floating around rather than methane, isn't it?

But most people living in rural East Africa are not interested in that, they are too busy surviving.

So, what about the charcoal makers? They will not be happy seeing their livlihood disappearing as people convert to methane for cooking.

So, show them how to make methane collectors, install them and maintain them. Yes, they need maintaining. A 45 gallon methane collector will produce gas for about six months before it needs refurbishing. But, the by-product is fertiliser, just what is needed on a shamba.

So, to recap:

• Methane is free
• Using methane saves trees
• A methane collector produces fertiliser
• Using methane helps to eliminate a potent greenhouse gas that would normally escape to atmosphere.
• Methane is a clean fuel, so there are no particulates to irritate and inflame eyes and lungs.
• Charcoal producers can be easily trained to make, install and maintain methane collectors, so they will not lose their income. In fact, with a little persuasion, maybe they will even promote the use of methane.

Methane can also be used as an alternative to petrol, so it will run a generator or water pump.

What is the next step?

KCIS has produced a working model. We can produce free methane. We are willing to spread the word.

We have contacted various charities and NGOs who are supposed to be interested in saving trees and protecting the water catchment areas. What is their response?

NOTHING!

If you are interested in saving trees in Kenya, contact us. We will work with anyone who is serious about making people's lives better in Kenya, or even East Africa.

Shock Video

Whenever I am visiting the Twiga Centre in Kisii, the kids are usually well-dressed, having just returned from church, they are happy and smiling, giving their all in the games we organise for them.

This is not surprising as they get few chances to play organised team games when not attending the Twiga Centre.

So, I take photos, and lately, videos of happy, smiling, clean kids. They are relatively healthy because we keep a check on their health.

But they all have a story to tell. Loss of one or both parents, living with elderly grandparents or in the case of four children, living with no adult supervision, other than that which we can provide.

My photos and videos do not reflect this. They show shiny, smiling children. So, having just acquired a "new" digital camcorder, I am determined that on my next trip, I will film the children in their real environment.

I will follow a day in the lives of Aloys and Nyachuba. Aloys milks his cow, buys food, cleans the house, washes clothes, cooks the meals and still finds time to go to school and do his homework.

Or Edwin and Dennis, who live with an older teenage sister, but she has two under-fives to bring up as well as her siblings. So the boys sow and reap, and help their sister as well as going to school.

I could probably shoot hours of shock video about Evangeline, Emmanuel and Imani.

Or Morfat, Boniface and Shaida; or Rister, Duke, Brian and Divina; or any and all of the children we support.

They all have a story to tell, a sad story. And they are just the tip of the iceberg in Kisii.

There is Simon, the little deaf boy I met on my last day in Kisii. His story is slowly unravelling.

Yes, I will have to order the kids not to smile every time they see me with a camera!

Bananas

As you walk through just about any town in Kenya, there will be hawkers and street traders offering you just about anything you could possibly want, or not.

Favourite among the goods is fruit and vegetables. These are piled in pyramid shapes on colourful blankets at the side of the road, where they get a liberal coating of diesel deposits from the passing traffic. But, no matter.

But this isn't the issue. What I found is that bananas are small, as much as half the size of those usually found in a British supermarket. But, unlike those sold here (in the UK), they are yellow all over, not a hint of green skin, and they are sweet. The flavour of these 'picked off the tree when they are ripe' fruits is unbelievable to those used to eating the 'picked green and ripened whilst in transit' fruits.

And it is not just bananas. In Kisii, where I spend most of my time when in Kenya, there are piles and piles of oranges. This is a mis-nomer. They are not orange at all. They are almost as yellow as grapefruit, and if you were offered them at Tescos (other supermarkets are available), you would turn your nose up.

But they are good. Sweet, juicy and delicious, despite their skins indicating the contrary.

You will never buy a pineapple with any hint of green on the skin. They are bright orange, and again, so sweet and tasty, you will wonder why you ever bothered to eat the sour fruit offered in the UK.

Avocados are ready to eat. There is no need to "ripen" them at home. Corn on the cob is delicious, roasted over a charcoal burner with no butter. I didn't think I would like it, but it is so succulent, it doesn't need anything added to it. And the vendor will thoughtfully leave some stalk on it for use as a handle as you nibble your way around the cob.

Little of the produce would pass muster in Europe because it is misshapen, or the wrong colour, but everything I have eaten in Kenya has a flavour we in the UK could only dream about.

So, if you are planning a trip to Africa, don't be put off by the shape or colour of the fruits on offer, unless, of course the colour is black from the diesel deposits!

Cabbage and Manchester City

A BBC researcher, Nejra Cehic recently visited Kisii (as reported on previous blogs) and visited our children at the Twiga children's Centre.
She interviewed some of the kids who had helped to prepare our new vegetable plot.
The conversation went something like this:
NC: Aloys, did you help to plant these vegetables?
Aloys: Yes. I like carrots.
NC: And Dennis, which vegetable do you like?
Dennis: Cabbage.
NC: And what do you like Esther?
Esther: Cabbage
And it struck me, how many children in the UK would prefer cabbage with a selection of 10 different vegetables to choose from?
To be fair, some of the Twiga children had never heard of, or had only seen but not tasted, many of the vegetables we had sown, but cabbage?
And I wonder what UK children would make of sukuma and ugali, especially if it was the only food on offer?
Later, Nejra asked some of the boys which football team they supported:

Edwin: Manchester United
Aloys: Arsenal
Dennis: Manchester City
No Chelsea or Liverpool supporters then. But again, these children don't have television, so they cannot watch their favourite teams. But Man U has supporters the world over, don't they? I was a little surprised by Dennis's answer though!
The two broadcasts can be heard here. If you have never seen the living conditions of orphaned children in Kenya, it is worth a listen. There is also an audio slideshow

If you’re bored in Kenya it’s because you’re dead!

I read this blog some time ago and it had me in stitches, being a visitor to Kenya who is often puzzled by the local "English". So, for those who missed it the first time around, I reproduce it below for your delight .

A Kenyan's Guide To Kenya, Vol. I
by Kenyanchick on Sunday, July 23, 2006

I’ve often been terribly disappointed by the tourist guidebooks written about Kenya. Most of the time they tell you stuff you already know, like “you can go on safari and see some lions.” That’s probably why you wanted to come here in the first place, so that’s not helpful. Other times they give you all manner of useless information. For example: what’s the point of telling you how to ask for directions in Kiswahili if you’re not going to understand the answer? (Sometimes they seem to be written by a malicious Kenyan who hates tourists. One time I was lying on the beach and was accosted by an earnest American who said, “Jambo. Nyinyi muna kula viazi?” First of all, no Kenyan says “Jambo.” Secondly, I was lying on the beach, I was alone and I definitely wasn’t eating potatoes.)

These books never tell you about all the amazing people you can meet in Kenya, or how to understand what they’re saying. Determined to correct this horrible wrong, I’m issuing the first of many useful, practical tips for our many visitors. Herewith Volume I of “A Kenyan’s guide to Kenya.” (Disclaimer: this is written from a Nairobi perspective. Other parts of the country are a whole other story and will cost you extra.)

Here’s what you should know:

When we want you to pass us something – the salt, say – we’ll point with our mouths. Example: We’ll catch your eye then say, “Nani.” Then we’ll use our mouths to point at the desired object. This is achieved by a slight upward nod followed by an abrupt thrusting out of the lower lip, which is pointed in the object’s general direction. There’s no explanation for this. (“Nani” can be roughly translated as, oh I don’t know, “Whats-your-face,” “You,” or “Thingie.” We’re unfailingly polite.)

Frequently, and for no reason whatsoever, we’ll refer to a person as “another guy.” However, this MUST be pronounced/slurred thus: An-aa guy. This also applies to “the other day,” which is when some momentous event in our lives always took place. We do the same thing with Kiswahili words like ‘bwana’, which is pronounced ‘bana.’

Example: “I was driving in town the aaa day and this guy comes from nowhere and cuts me off, bana. Man I abused him!” ‘Abused’ in this sentence must be drawn out and emphasised for maximum effect: a-BUSE-d.

We claim to speak English and Kiswahili, which technically means that we should be able to communicate with the English-speaking world and Tanzania. What we really mean is that if you’re not Kenyan you won’t understand a damn word we say or why we say it.

Example: “Sasa” in Kiswahili means “now.” We use it as a greeting.
Correct usage: “Sasa?” “Ah, fit.” It confuses us that Tanzanians don’t understand this.

We also, just as randomly, might greet you by saying, “Otherwise?” Common response: “Uh-uh.” There is no explanation for this.

Kenyans are multi-lingual, but all this means is that we believe that if we translate something word for word from one language to another it will make sense. A Kenyan might say, for example, “You mean you’re not brothers? But you look each other!” Be kind, they just think that muna fanana can slip into English unfiltered. Speaking of filters, that’s why some people (tribe/ethnicity withheld to protect my uncles) will claim to ‘drink’ cigarettes. If you’re not Kenyan you won’t understand this. Let it go.

We can buy beers at police stations. Grilled meat too. Heck, in some cop shops you can even play darts. I am NOT making this up. Example: “Man the aaa day I pitiad (pass through) the Spring Valley cop station after work. I was leaving there at midnight, bana. I was so wasted! I told those cops to just let me go home.”

Oh, that’s another thing: when we’re leaving a place (your house, a wedding, the cop shop bar) we tend to say, “Ok, me let me go…” We’re not implying that you’re holding us against our will; we’re just saying that we’d like to go. (The plural is, of course, “Us let us go.”)

When Kenyans say that you’re mad, it’s a profound compliment. “Man this guy is mad. You know what he did…” then they’ll go on to recount some of your admirable exploits. It’s high praise. Smile modestly and accept it. By modest I mean look down, draw a circle in the dust with the toe of your shoe (or just your toe) and then smile, draw your mouth down into a brief frown, and smile again. Alternate quickly a few times. This is known by English-speaking Kikuyus as The Nyira Smile, or The Sneering Smile. Then say “aah, me?” in a high, sing-songy voice. However, only do this if you’re female.

On the other hand, if Kenyans ask, “are you normal? (Sometimes pronounced “nomo”), then they’re getting a bit concerned about your state of mental health. Reassure them by buying another round.

Which brings me to Alcohol. Our national pastime. You know that myth about Eskimos having thousands of word for ‘snow?’ Well, our beloved drinks are known by a thousand names and phrases too. Kenyans will ‘catch pints (or just ‘catch’),’ ‘go for a swallow,’ have a ‘jweeze,’ ‘keroro,’ ‘kanywaji,’ ‘jawawa…’ really, no list can be exhaustive. Be aware, though, that the words you use will immediately tip off your audience about your age. (For the Kenyans reading this, no I was NOT born during the Emergency, you swine.)

Our other pastime is religion. (What contradiction?) If you’re broke on a Sunday – and your hangover is not too bad – stroll over to one of our parks and catch some open-air preaching. Jeevanjee Gardens in town is a prime location. There you will see us in our full multi-lingual, spiritual splendour. There is always, and I mean always, a freelance preacher thundering in English while his loyal and enthusiastic sidekick translates into Kiswahili.

Sample:
Preacher: And then Jesus said…
Sidekick: Alafu Yesu akasema…
Preacher: Heal!
Sidekick: Pona!
Preacher: HEAL!
Sidekick: PONA!

It’s hypnotic. We suggest you go with a Kenyan who understands both languages because sometimes the sidekick nurses higher ambitions and, instead of translating, tries to sneak in his own parallel sermon. If you’re bored in Kenya it’s because you’re dead.

As you’ve probably figured out, we like abbreviating things. (Why would the word ‘another’ have to be any shorter than it is? Why would the Kenyans reading this find it odd that I keep talking about ‘Kiswahili?’) This can lead to unnecessary confusion. But by now you should have figured out that when you’re catching and someone says, “Si you throw an-aa ra-o?” they of course want you to buy another round of drinks. Don’t worry about the ‘si;’ like so many words in Swa it’s impossible to translate. Embrace it, sprinkle it liberally in your speech and move on. There are several such words, which will be tackled in Volume II.

Unfortunately, as far as I can find, Volume II never made the blog. If you know different, please let me know!

Sign Language

On my last trip to Kenya in May of this year, I came across a few deaf people. Not surprising really as the first school for the deaf run by the deaf is situated in Kisii.

On my last day in Kisii, I met a deaf child, Simon, who was 8 years old. He was accompanied by a friend, Brian, who signed for Simon. Both children seemed proficient in sign language, as is my co-director, Vincent.

At the time, I was actually in the process of packing to leave Kisii so I did not get to know more of the circumstances of Simon and Brian. A lot of thoughts were running through my mind. Were they street children? They were certainly very grubby, even by the standards of rural Kenyan children. Did either or both of them go to school? Who looked after them? Did they have families? Etc.

When I returned to the UK, I asked Vincent to find out a little more, which was not difficult as Simon visited Vincent regularly, asking for money.

Anyway, it turns out that Simon does not go to school, despite the fact that there is a good school for the deaf in Kisii. He stays at home with his mother. Why?

Brian does go to school and also lives with his mother.

Neither child mentioned anything about fathers. Are they half-orphans?

So, as well as trying to learn a few words of Swahili and maybe a couple of words of Ekegusii (the local language of the Kisii area), I now want to learn sign language. And this poses another problem.

I cannot just go to the local college in England to learn it. In Kenya, they use Kenyan Sign Language - naturally. There are schools for the deaf that use British Sign Language or even American Sign Language, but KSL is the offocial language in Kenya.

I have searched the Internet and found a couple of useful sites that give a few words in KSL, but nowhere can I find a site that goes into any depth. So I guess that Vincent is going to have to teach me. I am sure it will come in useful while I am in Kenya.

BBC features KCIS & Twiga Part 2

Last Sunday saw the second and last feature by BBC Radio Berkshire on KCIS and theTwiga Children's Centre in Kisii on the Clare Catford show. It can be heard on iPlayer here, rolling it forward to about 2:37:00

It featured the voices of some of the children, Aloys, Dennis, Edwin and Esther, as well as a group of the children singing.

The BBC Radio Berkshire website also features an audio slideshow and a short writeup about KCIS.

BBC features KCIS & Twiga Part 1

The first part of the feature on KCIS went out on BBC Radio Berkshire's Clare Catford Show at about 8:44, last Sunday.

The spot included recordings made in Kisii, with children reciting poetry and singing, as well as their reporter visiting the home of two of the chldren in our care.

The feature can be heard by clicking here and winding forward to 2:44:00

A second part will be broadcast this Sunday (16th August) at about the same time, with more reports from Kisii and a studio inteerview with yours truly.

If you are in the Berkshire area, listen in and hear some of our children in Kenya, or you can pick it up later in the day on the BBC iPlayer.

KCIS on the radio

There is excitement in the KCIS camp as the broadcast date approaches for a feature to be run over two weeks on our local BBC radio station.

It was pure luck that we got the slot. A researcher for the station was going to Kenya with a charity that she volunteers for and as luck would have it, she was being sent to Kisii, where we are based.

On of her colleagues had been following our blog and pointed it out to the researcher, and we were contacted.

We had a meeting and off she went, with contact details and a broad outline of the activities of KCIS.

She has now returned with loads of sounds effects, interviews with the Twiga children, poems, songs, etc., and she is now compiling the feature, the first being a short slot this Sunday, comprising all pre-recorded material, followed the following week by a live interview with yours truly.

This is not the first time I have featured on local radio for KCIS, but this time, it is far more structured and much better prepared. I just hope that I hold my own in the live segment - I am not a natural public speaker.

Time will tell.

Mambo Jambo

I have written before about visitors to Kenya speaking Swahili, and as I continue to visit, I learn more about what gives a mzungu street credibility. And it depends on where you are.

I spend most of my time in Kisii, which is situated in SW Kenya. Although it is quite a big town, it is off the regular tourist track and white people are few and far between.

It is rare to be greeted with "Jambo" in Kisii. Usually, you would be greeted with "Habari?" which means, "How are you?", to which the reply is "Mzuri" - "Fine" or "Mzuri sana" - "Very fine". Of course, if you ask a Kenyan, "Habari?", you could get the answer, "Very OK."

Youngsters love sheng, a sort of slang mixture of Swahili, English and whatever their tribal language might be. So, I usually greet younger people with "Mambo" - "What's up?" This surprises most people as I am white and am speaking a "language" that is normally reserved for Kenyans. The reply is usually "Poa" (Cool) or "Safi" (clean).

Even the youngest of children in provincial Kenya speak some sheng.

On the Coast, where there are far more whites, either tourists or residents, Jambo is the usual greeting, to which the reply is also Jambo. The same seems to goes for Nairobi.

But, as I spend most of my time in Kenya in the Kisii district, wherever I am, I greet people with "Habari?" or "Mambo".

It certainly gives a mzungu some credibility when they speak any Swahili, but to use a greeting other than Jambo earns them a couple of extra points.

There are a few peculiarities you may come across in Kenya. A cigarette is a stick, and the smoker may "drink" it.

I mentioned "Very OK". This is a phrase that I find myself using now, even in the UK. It raises a few eyebrows over here.

I have also mentioned before the use of "Sorry". People will say sorry if you have a mishap, even if they are not the cause. It is not an apology, but showing empathy for your discomfort. It takes a little getting used to.

Kenyan English is a wonderful language, but don't translate it literally into UK English - it doesn't always work!

Things That Go Bump In The Night In Kenya

One of the major disadvantages of living in a house with a corrugated steel roof is the noise when something lands on said roof. Even with a false ceiling, the noise of a bird landing on the roof can be heard.

Especially at night.

At dusk, standing outside, bats can be seen flitting around. These aren't the cute little things one sees in the South of England, these are like raptors, enormous things!

And they roost in trees, where they return, carrying their staple diet, fruit - because they are probably fruit bats. Now, there are a lot of mango trees around in Kenya, so these bats come home with a mango, eat the flesh and drop the stone.

I am sure that most readers have seen the stone of a mango, it is big, and when one is dropped onto a corrugated steel roof, it makes rather a lot of noise. There is the initial clang as it lands, but

then a sort of grating slide as it slips off the roof towards the gutter.

The first time I was subjected to this, i jumped out of bed and grabbed the panga (machete) standing in the corner of the room. I was convinced the house was being broken into (this was soon after the post-election violence of 2008). As the second stone hit the roof, I realised what it probably was, and calmed down and eventually got back to sleep.

-oOo-

On my most recent visit to Kisii, the area suffered an earth tremor. I have mentioned this in an earlier post. I was instantly awakened when the house started to vibrate. The noise was terrifying, and realising what was going on, my mind drew a mental picture of where the house was situated.

We were in the lowest of three rows of little bungalows on the side of a steep side of a valley with a river at the bottom.

My next vision was of the hillside collapsing as we had had torrential rain for the last few days.

The rumbling, grinding vibrations went on for about 20 or 30 seconds, although it seemed a lot more at the time.

I lay there, waiting for an after-shock, or whatever happens in these situations, but none occurred.

It was terrifying, and this was just a little tremor, there was no structural damage. Things didn't even fall of shelves. In fact, when i got up in the morning, I wondered if i had dreamt it.

But I hadn't. Vincent, my host talked about it. But he said that in his 28 years in Kisii, there had never been a similar incident as far as he could remember.

And it was the last one that occurred while I was there. This was a very minor tremor and it got me thinking of the people who live in areas prone to major earthquakes. If I was scared by a minor tremor, what do these people feel?

Thinking about it, Kisii, is not that far from the Great Rift Valley, described as the area where the continent of Africa is ripping itself apart. This is evident when you are in the valley. There are volcanoes running the length of it. They are extinct, or at least dormant and most are now lakes, supporting an abundance of wildlife.

Although I have driven past it several times, I still get a thrill when I pass Suswa or Oldoinyo Nyukie, an impressive conical volcano on the road between Nairobi and Narok.

-oOo-

Of course, it is not only fruit bats that drop things on the roof.

Where I was staying on the coast, there was a mango tree overhanging the house and from time to time, a fruit would fall, especially if the ocean breeze was a little stronger than usual. There were also a lot of coconut palms, well laden with fruit, but luckily, it wasn't the season for them to drop.

Work Hard, Play Hard

My last video on YouTube showed the Twiga kids working hard to prepare their vegetable plot, sow seed and build a fence to protect their vegetables.

Well, this new slide show shows that they don't just work. We organise games for them so that, especially those with particularly hard lives can act like the kids they really are, even if it is only for a couple of hours!

Please take a look at a bunch of kids enjoying themselves.

A Plea From Ghana

Blessing Akowuah

My name is Blessing Akowuah. I am 15 years old and I live in Ghana with my parents and sister.

I attend school every day, and I have just completed Junior High School. Now my parents cannot pay my school fees. I need to go to school to get a good education. I work hard and always obtain good marks at school. I am clever and I work hard. The teachers like me because I work hard and always behave myself.

If I do not go to school, I will not be able to become a good worker when I finish school. I want to be able to work well for my family and for Ghana.

Please, I need a sponsor. I am clever and I am worth helping so that I can get a good job.

Blessing Akowuah

Review of My Time in Kisii

This is not a long review, just memories of little incidents as they come to me.

This first relates not just to my latest visit, but I will relate the last occasion that I found this funny.

Now, I am sure that many of you have seen this simple finger trick:

I don't know when or where I first picked it up, but I seem to have been able to do it forever.

Anyway, when confronted with a gaggle of rural Kenyan kids, this is what I show them, particularly one little boy, Simon, who is deaf, and his friend and signer, Brian. Simon is the one with his finger in his mouth.

Both kids were amazed and tried for a long time to do this and eventually, with a little help, they succeeded.

The sounds of pleasure that Simon made when he succeeded were special. He had a grin on his face as he "talked" to Brian and Vincent, who can also sign.

Maybe I should learn to sign as well. I am sure that Simon isn't the only deaf kid who will cross my path in Kenya.

But is signing in Kenya the same as over here in the UK? I don't know. Can anyone tell me, please?

UPDATE: There is a specific language in Kenya, KSL or Kenyan Sign Language. This language is to become an official language in Kenya, if it hasn't already. Other European and US sign languages are used in a few schools in Kenya, but KSL is the norm.

There is a school for the deaf, staffed by deaf people in Kisii. It is the only one of its kind in Kenya a far as I can make out. Did Simon go there? I doubt it. He and his friend Brian were two of the scruffiest, grubbiest kids I have seen in Kenya.

New video on YouTube

I have finally managed to transfer the video from my old video camera onto my PC hard disk, edited it and produced a short film of the Twiga kids working the vegetable plot.

You can see it here

Photos, videos of Kenya

During my recent visit to Kisii, I took a lot of photos, the Twiga kids used my camera to take even more (some of them are rather good), and we also shot some candid video, using my old, creaky 8mm camcorder.

Back at home, I now have the endless task of weeding out the photos and editing the video.

Which posed a problem - how do I transfer analog video on tape to a digital format on a hard disk?

And the answer came from an unexpected corner. I was glancing through the adverts in last week's Sunday paper when i spotted a "USB video grabber". It was expensive, but i had a look on eBay and there was the same gadget, but a lot cheaper.

The gadget arrived and I set about installing it on my most powerful computer, which runs under Windows XP X64 (I inherited it so I didn't get a say in the operating system). And guess what, it is not compatible - most hardware isn't compatible with X64.

So to the second most powerful computer, which I build myself from stuff lying around.

For the technically minded, it has an early Pentium-D 2.8GHz and 2GB RAM, 3 x 250GB SATA hard disks, but a very poor internal video card (16MB) and no video card slot.

It installed perfectly on this second machine, so I connected everything together and wow! I could see my video on-screen. I can capture a video or bits of it, edit it with the software provided, and generally mess about with them - brilliant.

Now all I have to do is to figure out what all the buttons and commands do - the manual is, as usual, not terribly good, so this could take some time.

There is also the question of resolution. Obviously, I want the biggest possible screen-size, but there seems to be a problem and I have chosen a smaller format for the time being. I can always recapture the videos, and probably do a better job next time.

Back in the UK

It is certainly a shock to the system. I have been back for over 36 hours, but my body clock is still on Kenyan time (+2 hours). I have not experienced this before. After all, it is only 2 hours, but at 5.30 in the morning, that is a long time.

I am also having problems with the temperature here. Although it is hovering around the 18° to 20°C, I am finding it very cold and have to wear a jumper.

So I have concluded that I spent a little too long in Kenya, 36 days, and it is taking me time to adjust.

After all, the last 10 days I was in Kenya, I was at the coast, where the temperature was in the high 20s, albeit with torrential rain and a cool breeze of the ocean, rather pleasant really, apart from the mosquitoes and other little (and not so little) nasties that bite, sting, or just annoy.

But, lying on a sun bed, under the mango tree just outside the front door, looking at the blue sky and cotton wool clouds through the fronds of the coconut palms, being cooled by a breeze with the slight smell of the sea, I forget all the things I dislike about the coastal region for a while.

But, back here, I am cold, tired (having woken up at 5.30 again) and feeling a bit deflated. I am glad to be home and my system will get back into routine, but I think today is going to be another lazy one, the most exhausting thing I shall be doing is to watch the British Grand Prix.

Kenya Trip June 2009 - Last Episode and Back Home

Thursday 18 June

My stay at the coast was uneventful apart from two mosquito bites on my leg that turned septic, which caused my leg and foot to swell up.

The trip back to Nairobi was fine, almost comfortable on the overnight coach with plenty of "pee and tea" stops. We arrived in Nairobi at 5.30am on Thursday, but in a part of town that I didn't know.

Eventually, I found my bearings and made for my favourite café, but of course it was closed at that time in the morning, so I went into Jivanjee Gardens, one of the few places in Nairobi where one can smoke.

Having restored my nicotine/blood ratio to its correct level, I wandered down Moi Avevnue until I was accosted by a taxi driver. As I wanted to visit a client whilst in town, I bartered with him until he offered to take me to Langata for a price I found acceptable.

I spent the day, including a pleasant lunch in the KWS compound, managed to do some work and then made my way back to the City centre by matatu.

By now of course, my favourist café was open and I had my favourite snack.

Then more bartering to get a taxi to take me to that airport. My flight was not until 9.15am on Friday, but I had decided to spend the night at the airport.

The taxi driver was one of the nicest guys I have met, chatty, interesting - and a good driver!

At the airport, I could not check in my baggage as the desk for my flight was not going to open until 5.30 the following morning, but a security guard told me where to leave it. He would keep an eye on it for me.

I spent the next few hours drinking tea and wandering into a quiet area for a smoke. On one occasion, as I was puffing away, a policeman approached. I thought I was in trouble, but he only wanted to cadge a cigarette and have a chat, and I gladly obliged.

After the last flight of the day, I was alone, apart from the staff, who were ready to have a chat to break their boredom.

At 4am, I slept. Then I was the first to book onto the flight and finally managed to get through to the departure lounge, where I slept some more.

On the plane, I slept. I ate and slept some more, although I managed to stay awake as we flew alongside the Rift Valley, which at 30,000 feet is astounding.

We arrived over London early, but landed late, after several turns over Southern England.

Then a fight through the Friday afternoon traffic along the M4 and I was home - ah! sweet home.

It is good to be back. This trip was a little too long and I was longing to be back. Decent tea, and a decent bed, a decent toilet - and a hot shower. Bliss, sheer bliss!

But I am already making tentative plans for my return to Kenya.

Kenya Trip June 2009 - bla bla ...

Monday, June 15

Boy, oh boy,oh boy!

Did I ever get that wrong! It rained all morning, the heavy stuff, like drummers on the roof. But although I needed to go to the local shop, I couldn't as my foot had swollen up and I couldn't get my shoe on. So, there I was, working away, with my foot in a bucket of cold water to try and get the swelling down.

Then the rain stopped. It brightened up. The puddles disappeared. Birds started singing - oh, let's not get carried away here ...

I changed (there is no way I am going into the village in shorts!) and started to lock up the fortress. All was well, until I removed the final key - and it started to spit with rain.

By the time I got to the road, it was pouring and a local vendor with two umbrellas offered me shelter, which I gratefully accepted, even if this particular umbrella was more holes than fabric.

It slowed to a heavy drizzle, I thanked my benefactor and walked briskly to the shop. AS I paid, it started to rain heavily again. I skipped next door and bought a bit more. Then the rain stopped again.

I looked to the south, where the wind and rain were coming from, straight off the Indian Ocean, decided to risk it and walked briskly back towards home.

That's where I got it wrong. I hadn't gone 20 ft when the heavens opened. Within seconds I was drenched, so much so that I couldn't see the point in searching for shelter. I just kept walking.

Our neighbour, relaxing under her porch, laughed like a drain when she saw me.

"Too much rain?" she laughed.

"What? No. Just a little shower," I spluttered back.

Kenya Trip June 2009 - etc ...

Sunday 14th

It is a typical Sunday. It started with a call to prayer at 5.50am, then the preachers with loud, rasping voices testing their sound equipment, to make sure that even people on the North Pole can hear them, followed by interminable services of joyful but repetitive music, played badly on electric pianos and sung by choirs who, frankly, can't sing.

This morning, I set up a swing for the kids, strung up in the mango tree outside the front door, and that has kept them amused ever since, thank Goodness.

Liz's Aunt, who has at least one grown-up daughter and at least one grandchild, is 8 1/2 months pregnant and an epileptic. She is in hospital and this morning it was decided to carry out an emergency Caesarian Section. Liz has shot up to Malindi to be with her and I am left with the two kids, Ian (7), Natasha (almost 5) and niece Beonce (2 weeks older than Natasha). To add to the meleé, the boy from next door has come round to play with Ian.

And it is lunchtime.

Beonce doesn't speak any English, the boy next door doesn't either, and Natasha pretends not to understand when it suits her.

Ian, on the other hand is a little star. His English, although not perfect is very understandable and he also speaks a little French.

He is happy to act as interpretor and also tries to keep his little sister in check, although it will take a lot more than a seven year old for that task. Even her mother has difficulties with her; she is very defiant - er, Natasha, not Liz.

I can usually scare the boy next door into obedience - he is not used to a mzungu in close proximity, and if I stare at Beonce for too long, she may even burst into tears.

I think I have established that all the kids like eggs, so it will be eggy bread for lunch, coz I like it.

And the added annoyance factor is that the Safaricom connection keeps dropping. The service really isn't very good in these parts.

-oOo-

I have heard from Liz. A healthy baby boy was born by CS, but Aunt is still aout of it.

-oOo-

I am beginning to think about dinner and had a look in the freezer. We don't have a fridge so everything goes in the freezer and we switch it on and of so as not to freeze everything rock-hard. We forget sometimes. Just now is such a time and I have frozen milk in my cup of coffee.

But back to dinner. Bearing in mind I am feeding 4, including myself, and it would be nice if there wassomething left for Liz when she gets back, I can do frankfurters and pasta, sausages and pasta, chicken and pasta, pasta and pasta, etc. ... with a pasta sauce of fresh tomatoes and garlic. There are little packets of herbs and spices, but they are all labelled in Swahili, so I won't be using those.

Cooking a proper meal for 5 on a single-ring gas burner is a bit daunting, but I am sure I will manage ... somehow ... if I have to, although I am hoping that Liz will arrive before I have to contemplate it.

Update:

Liz's aunt died this afternoon after a successful Caesarian Section to deliver a baby boy. The baby is in the nursery and we do not know if it will survive.

I managed to feed the kids, stop them eating what I had prepared for Liz, get them washed and virtually ready for bed when Liz came home.

She and the kids are now asleep and I am winding down after a long, cold shower. There are Tuskers in the fridge and I am tempted to drink one, but somehow, it doesn't seem right.

Living in a Sauna

My pores must be open just about as wide as they can manage. I am dripping all over the place, on the keyboard, on my lap. I have resorted to using a proper mouse instead of the touchpad, because it doesn't work when it's wet!

But I am losing weight, as I always do here. If I lose much more around the middle, I will have to buy new trousers, or a smaller belt.

I popped into the village proper at about midday (what do they say about mad dogs and Englishmen? Oh yes) on a motorbike taxi, a good way to stay cool.

As we went down the main street, a lot of people called out, "Jambo, Mr David!"

I didn't know that I had made such an impression on the only previous occasion I had been here.

Business done, I wandered up the street and was accosted by someone who knew my name and looked vaguely familiar. Oh yes, he was the owner of the Curio Shop. I had wanted to look at his goods and now was a good time.

In fact, he owns three shops, a sandal makers, a carvers and paintings (oil on canvas))

Now I have had this idea for a while, to export crafts from Kenya to Europe and the USA. I even have a website set up for Kisii soapstone, but wanted something else.

This man has it. And he is willing to open up his market to the wide world, or morespecifially, the World Wide Web. So, after a tour, we agreed that I should return with my camera and do my thing.

Mind you, he isn't cheap, by Kenyan curio standards, but his stuff is first-class, and of course, if he gets bulk orders he will offer wholesale prices.

Business done, I wandered back towards the house, passing the supermarket where I popped in to get provisions. I am well-known here and people are very friendly and helpful.

Next door is a little coffee shop, so I thought I would treat myself to a Latté. These are to dream about, creamy with loads of froth, chocolate on top, accommpanied by a little chocolate bar and a glass of water.

As I reached the road again, I expected the usual flotilla of motorbike taxis and tuk-tuks - nothing!

I was just about resigned to start walking when a lone motorbike came into view. Now, I don't know how to tell the difference between a motorbike taxi and a private vehicle, so I nodded towards him and he slammed on the brakes. It wa a motorbike taxi.

50/- got me home. That's the cheapest I have been charged yet.

But, by the time I got to the house, I was dripping wet, my hat, an old felt wide-brimmed affair, was sodden and I needed a drink.

Luckily, I had made up a glass of orange squash and put it in the freezer, and forgot it. It just slipped down my throat like a Tusker lager - beautiful.

So, I have had my daily quota of sun. I am determined to go back a lot darker than when I came, but without peeling, blistering, burning or fainting!

Update - just a little note, when approached by a plethora of taxi drivers, tuk-tuks and the like, all wanting to take me wherever I want to go, but I rathe walk, I now use the line, "My feet is my only carriage ..."

To a man, they ask, "You like Bob Marley?"

Respect, Man. Respect.

Kenya Trip June 2009 - coz I'm still here

5/6/2009 Friday

I was awakened by the noise of a downpour on the roof. Liz and the kids were already up, but I decided that I wasn’t ready to face the world.

But by about 6.30, I was awake, sort of, and decided to make an appearance, and a cuppa. By 7.30, the house was empty, apart from me.

It is now sunny and there is hardly any air movement. I think it is going to be hot.

-oOo-

I was right, hot it is, especially when walking along the roadside. I took myself for a little trip into “town”. We are in a village outside a larger village, so any real shopping or banking, etc. has to be done in the bigger village.

I walked down the road and found a Safaricom agent and topped my cell phone up. As luck would have it, just down the road, there was a motorcycle taxi which took me right to the bank, which is a fair old way.

From there I walked back up to the crossroads and back towards the house, when Mum phoned to wish me a happy birthday. We had quite a long chat before I arrived at the “supermarket” (their imagination, not mine) to get food and other necessities, like cigarettes. Unfortunately, the choice of meat was sausages or spare ribs, so I got both.

Again, I was lucky, as a tuk-tuk was just dropping off a fare so I hailed him. All I could remember about the house is that the lane is opposite a large hardware store. He knew where it was and even where I am staying and brought me to the door.

An uneventful adventure, you might say, but I feel quite pleased with myself as Liz tends to shepherd me around like a kid – and I’m a big boy now. I have travelled across Kenya, right to left all my myself.

My only gripe is the cost of local fares. They seem very high compared to Kisii, but then, this place is full of tourists, so I suppose I will have to accept it.

-oOo-

After a better lunch that I have had for a few days, and a cup of tea, I ventured outside. Under the mango tree outside the front door, there is a wicker couch. It is in the shade of the tree and looked very inviting. I tried it out. It was slightly damp from the morning’s rain, which was very pleasant on my bare back.

As I lay there looking up through the tree, watching tiny lizards scampering around, I thought that some of the branches looked a little old and fragile.

As I sat up to take a swig of tea, a small mango fell and landed where my head had been a few seconds previously. It wasn’t big enough to do any serious damage, but it would have smarted had I not sat up when I did.

Premonition, coincidence? Or was it written that David was not to be hit on the head on his birthday?

-oOo-

I decided to have a little exploration of the village where I am staying. It is out of the village of Watamu, and has a strictly local population. The road goes from Gede to Watamu only, but there is quite a lot of traffic, mainly matatus, tuk-tuks and motorbikes, but also a few safari trucks and private cars.

The road is lined on both sides by commercial outlets, ranging from small stalls made of poles and corrugated steel sheets, or thatched with banana leaves, to small blocks of block built, more solid structures. It is very colourful and quite noisy, especially when a mzungu walks past out of tourist season.

I wasn’t looking for anything, rather just “window” shopping, but I bought some pencils for the kids to use at school and some cough medicine for Ian.

It was hot, I was sweating and had not taken my hat, so I decided to retreat back to the house before I fried the top of my head.

6/6/09 Saturday

Liz worked this morning until 2pm and Natasha was having her hair re-braided, which left Ian with me.

Ian is a quiet boy, for a 7 year-old, very obedient, most of the time, and is as curious as only a young child can be. He loves to play with my camera, snapping away at anything that takes his fancy. A few of his photos are rather good.

After breakfast of toast (more like burnt bread, really), he clicked away at this and that until lunchtime.

Then he started to get restless. It was not surprising. It had been raining almost non-stop since I woke up and it wasn’t about to stop, although we wanted to go into the village to meet Liz and get him some flip-flops.

So I put my waterproof jacket on him and we set off, the bare-foot little boy holding my hand.

We got a tuk-tuk into the centre of the village and did a bit of shopping in the other supermarket, Mama Lucy’s.

Outside again, we were accosted by a fish seller, who offered calamari and white fish, but I told him that decisions about fresh food were made by my wife.

Within about five minutes, there was a gathering of various traders around us and when Liz arrived, it was evident that most knew her. It wasn’t surprising as they had all been raised in the village.

We bought the calamari and fish and then went into the locals’ village to get flip-flops for the two children.

Back home, the calamari was cooking when the gas ran out. By now it was dark and still raining, and I wondered if we were going to eat, but Liz just made a quick phone-call and someone went to get us a new gas cylinder.

Dinner was lovely, calamari and chips, and Ian and I stuffed ourselves.

7/6/09 Sunday

It blew a gale and when it wasn’t, it rained – all night.

A day of rest – apparently – if you haven’t got two under-eights in the house. I didn’t get any rest. For most of the day, Liz was at her sister’s with Natasha, to have her hair done and I was left to amuse Ian.

When she came back, she had he niece, Beonce with her. She took one look at me and burst into tears. I was surprised as she has spent a lot of time with me on my previous visits. But there was no winning her round. If I got too close to her, she cried.

I took far too much sun and far too much exercise.

8/6/09 Monday

And on the 7th day, it rained. No surprise there then. It has rained every day since I have been here.

I am suffering from the effects of too much sun, or heat and presently am sitting here with a cold flannel on my head, supping tea like it is going out of fashion.

I have just spent the last 2 ½ hours lying on the couch shivering as if I were cold, which I am not. But I have had to put a thick top on and feel a little better. I am now on my 3rd cup of tea – I cannot face food at the moment.

My head and the back of my neck feel like a furnace, and just to make things worse, every fly in the village has decided to visit me today. I did contemplate getting onto the bed and using the net to keep them off, but that is just giving in.

Talking of the ‘Net, I have not been able to get a top-up for my Safaricom dongle in the village, which is very annoying as I know there are important emails waiting for action.

-oOo-

I was rather hoping to have shaken off this lethargy by now (12.30) but I cannot find the energy to do anything.

Rhino Ark have just phoned asking why I haven’t started the updates since the Rhino Charge and I had to explain that I cannot get an Internet top-card. I didn’t bother telling him that I was a sick as a dog, I am short of cash because they hadn’t paid me for two months, or that we keep getting power cuts.

Now the water has gone off. This is not a good situation when one is dehydrated.

There is nothing in the house for the kids’ tea so I am going to have to go to the shops. It is not far, but seems like the end of the Earth today.

No bread! There are two shops and neither of them has any bread. So much for the honey sandwiches for tea. A packet of biscuits will have to do.

Struggled to get back to the house and collapsed in the entrance – exhausted.

9/6/09 Tuesday

Yesterday was one bad day, I am guessing it was heat stroke. My head felt like it would explode, my neck was hot and everything was an effort. When the kids came home from school, it was an effort to get them their tea and get them to do their homework. Natasha, sensing that I was not on form, started to play up about doing her homework.

It was a relief when Liz got home and told me to lie down and rest – again.

I managed to eat a little and I drank loads of water, so much that I had to get up four times in the night. Well, at least it proved that my kidneys hadn’t failed.

I slept quite well, and woke up feeling almost human

Today, I still feel weak and to add to my misery, I have infected a mosquito bite on my leg. It has swollen up and is bright red. My legs were never the best of sights but they have been totally annihilated by those little pests, despite insect spray and a mosquito net.

Money has become a real issue and I have texted a business associate in Nairobi to send me the money he “borrowed” from me (without my permission) in September 07, £280 or about Ksh 33000 at today’s rate. Somehow I doubt that he will send it. Other than going to the law, I don’t know how I am going to get it back.

-oOo-

Liz and I have been trying to find a Safaricom retailer that sells 500/- top-up cards. So far we have only looked in the village, which is the commercial centre for the area, but to no avail. However, yesterday, while I was struggling to buy bread, I noticed a Safaricom agent with a big, smart shop in our village, and I am just wondering if I can hobble there and back. It is getting really serious, I need to get onto the Internet to download the Rhino Ark data and update their website.

If I do manage to walk there only to find that they don’t sell them, I will be very annoyed – and will have a very sore leg.

-oOo-

My leg is a mess, with red blotches from the ankle to half-way up my calf. It is painful to walk on, but I can manage a few steps if I walk on tip-toe.

When the children came home from school, it was the usual routine, change, tea, homework. But then they disappeared and I had to hobble around the compound until I found them at a neighbour’s. I was annoyed although they had done nothing wrong.

-oOo-

There was a noise like an industrial sewing machine, a constant staccato clank-clank. I eventually identified it as a tuk-tuk. I hadn’t realised until recently that these tiny machines are diesel powered. I don’t know what size engine they have, but they are almost all Piaggio, and I thought they were 50cc scooters. Well, the front end of a tuk-tuk is a scooter with an axle on the back and seats for tree skinny passengers.

-oOo-

Mum phoned this afternoon. I told her about my infected leg and she wanted to get me home – like now! I was tempted. She will phone again tomorrow to see how I am.

-oOo-

I love the sound of grasshoppers, crickets, cicadas, chirruping away in the balmy warm evening – but not when their chirruping is as strident as a referee’s whistle and it is right outside the bedroom window when I am trying to sleep.

Just got up for a call of nature – the bloody thing isn’t outside the window, it’s in the bedroom somewhere!

It was raining and the water was splashing on my head, the bed is under a window. I reached up to close the louvre glass – there isn’t any! This is the only window in the house that cannot be closed. I shifted further down the bed.

Chirrup, chirrup, chirrup – if it doesn’t stop soon, I am mounting a one-man hunting expedition.

Chirrup, chirrup – chirrup, chirrup. I am going to kill … oh, that’s my phone! Who is sending me an SMS at this hour? I look at my watch. It is 22.30.

10/6/09 Wednesday

It may be because I have been badly affected by insect bites, it may be because I got heat stroke, it may be because money is short, it may be because I am at the house alone during the day, but as far as I am concerned, in my present frame of mind, this place is a hell-hole. It is too hot, too flat (which is a blessing with my leg as it is), too expensive, and everyone who attends church must be deaf! Why? Because all the preachers use P.A. systems turned up to distort level. I can hear them ¼ of a mile away, so the people in the churches must be deaf.

And then there are the mullahs, calling to prayer five times a day, except that they can’t count. I heard seven yesterday!

-oOo-

I have finally found out why I can’t get top-up cards for my modem. They don’t exist. I should be using phone top-ups. They are – apparently – the same. So I am going to hobble down the street to get me some credit and finally do some work – and maybe post this blog up, rather than let it simmer and stew on my hard disk.

If I am not back within the hour, it is because my leg has given out and I am slowly frying on the side of the road.

-oOo-

I hobbled into the street and to the shops. Once there, I could not remember what I went for, other than cigarettes.

I went to a Safaricom agent for a 500/- top-up, but she didn’t have any top-up cards at all. The next agent only had 20/-. I bought one for my phone, but it is no good for the modem, it won’t accept less than 250/- and that makes for expensive use.

I couldn’t go any further down the street without the risk of my leg giving out before I got home, and I am guessing that I will only find 500/- cards in the tourist area, which this certainly isn’t. People around here, the locals, real Kenyans, only buy 20/- at the time. Then they flash their friends (ring once and hang up), hoping that the friend has enough credit to phone back. It is the Kenyan way – don’t pay for anything unless you have to.

So now, having rested my leg, I am debating whether to go into the village. That’s another 200/- wasted if I don’t find a card.

-oOo-

The flies are driving me mad. I cannot stop them coming in as the windows are louvred and do not close completely, and in any case, I would suffocate. It is heavy and humid. I hope it rains soon.

It is nearly 5pm and the kids haven’t got back from school – and I am starting to worry, but I will not panic and phone Liz until 5.15.

I phoned at 5.10. She told me that the school bus had been in an accident but the kids were OK.

So I walked up the lane to the street and waited … and waited. I wandered back to the house as my phone battery was reading empty. I stuck it on charge for 10 minutes then wandered back up the lane. Still no sign of the kids.

I saw tuk-tuks with 10 or 12 kids in them going past, but not my kids. Matatus were spewing out kids, but not mine.

Eventually I gave up and wandered back home. No sooner had I arrived than a tuk-tuk pulled into the compound with the kids in it, and Liz was not far behind.

So we are all safe and well. A motorbike taxi had hit the side of the bus, disabling it and the school could not get a replacement.

Kenya Trip May 2009 - next bit

29/5/09 Friday

We had had no rain for over 24 hours although there were a few threats, but yesterday evening, the “drought” ended with a vengeance. We were dashing around looking for buckets and bowls to catch the rain, when there was a flash of a nearby lightning strike and the lights went out. The thunder was so loud that I was startled and dropped a bucket of precious water.

I need not have worried; more than enough fell to fill everything we could find and replace that which I had dropped. So the porch floor got a good wash.

It was not the most violent storm I have ever seen, but it was spectacular, with lightning on three sides, lighting up the valley and beyond.

At the height of the storm and blackout, the water for my shower was ready. It was the first time I have washed in total darkness interrupted by blinding flashes. Luckily I have had my body for a fair number of years and know where all the parts are.

However, I was washing in a wet room with a squat toilet and was aware that I could fall in if I put a foot wrong.

In the event, I survived. The storm abated after a long while, but there was still lightning in the distance, well into the evening.

-oOo-

I learned a lesson yesterday evening. Do not let kids with sticky or sugary fingers use my laptop. When the power came on, I eventually got around to switching on the computer and dozens of tiny ants popped out from under the keyboard keys. They had obviously been attracted by the sugary deposits left by little fingers. I really don’t fancy stripping down the keyboard to remove loads of squashed ant carcasses so I hope that they are agile enough to get out of the way when I press a key!

30/5/09 Saturday

We got up to the plot to find about 12 kids waiting for us. The rest, who have to walk quite a distance were worried about getting caught in the rain.

First things first, we examined the seed bed and were delighted to see a lot of seedlings looking for light.

So, with this resounding success, we set about making a fence to keep out chickens and any other stray animals. Believe me, when the kids had finished, an elephant would have found it hard to eat our crops. As we had had a butternut squash the previous evening, we took the seed to the plot to plant as see if anything happens.

It was a lot of hard work, mainly for the boys, who finished off with a thorn barrier, so we returned to the hut and had a few games, giant hoopla using hoola hoops seemed to be the most popular.

We broke up just before 6pm, after our new flag lowering ceremony. I started this as a laugh, but the kids take it very seriously – well, most do.

There are one or two who make merry of just about anything, and also like to tease the mzungu, but it is all very good natured. I couldn’t imagine anything else from any of them.

31/5/09 Sunday

My last day at Twiga, for a while at least, and it had rained before we got there. This limited our activities as I didn’t want the kids rolling around on wet grass, although I am sure they would not have minded.

But first, we checked the “stockade”, which was still intact.

We had stopped on the way to Twiga to pick up cream for one of the children who has a severe ringworm problem. This was given to her older brother to administer, with strict and detailed instructions. I am sure he will manage. He may be only 13, but he is a very responsible kid.

After a few games we sat in the hut and Vincent and I told the kids in detail our plans for Twiga, the extended building to house them, admin block, washing, cooking and leisure facilities and asked for ideas from the children. The discussion was lively. After all, we were discussing the kids’ futures.

Then came the time to leave. It was long and drawn out with much hand-shaking and high fives being repeated over and over.

The kids started to walk to the road with us although most live in the opposite direction.

Fortunately, in a way, we were offered a lift in a car, which meant that we did not have to go through all the handshakes and high fives again. For me, it was painful enough the first time around.

Tomorrow will be packing and getting ready for a 14 hour coach trip across the country for the Coast.

Fourteen hours – I am really looking forward to that.

1/6/09 Monday

A morning of gathering my belongings and packing. As I had come with a load of donated clothes, which of course I no longer had, I found myself with two bags where one would do, so I put my computer and other delicates in the back-pack and put that inside my suitcase.

Proceedings were interrupted when two local kids decided to have a closer look at this weird beast called a mzungu. One child was deaf and the other, who could sign, translated for him, although his English was not too good.

I showed them a couple of “tricks” and took their photographs, which delighted them, then got back to packing, washing and eating.

I had to get to the bus stage by 14:15, which meant leaving the house at 13:45. At 13:40, the heavens opened. This was no shower, it was a downpour, making the tracks that we were about to use as slippery as melting ice. I was not looking forward to my last trek up the hill. But the ever-resourceful Vincent took me by a different route, longer but less steep and I managed to get to the road without falling over – not even once.

As we reached the road, we were flashed by a taxi and we took it to the stage.
Naturally, although we were on time, the coach wasn’t. I deposited my luggage and we set off for Tuskys, a local supermarket, and bought a few things to munch on during the journey.

A quick cup of tea and a samosa each and I was boarding the bus.

It was smaller than the others I have travelled on and I found that I was wider than my seat! Legroom was not overly generous either and I wondered just how my various failing limbs would put up with these cramped conditions.

Luckily, the person in the next seat was slim.

We set off only 15 minutes late, which is not bad, but I had not reckoned on the Pastor.

This little lady boarded the bus and as soon as we were out of the stage, she started praying in a loud, strident, passionate voice – in Swahili. I know she was praying for us because I heard the words Mungu (God) and Amen from time to time.

Her prayers went on for 30 minutes, non-stop, her voice not faltering once. Then she went up and down the aisles for donations. I thought that was the end of it, but no.
Her companion then started offering Bibles for sale. As most Christian Kenyans have at least one Bible, he did not have many takers.

At last, they got off the coach and I settled down to some quiet sight-seeing. How deluded can you get?

A man boarded the bus and started to extol the virtues of various creams and potions he had for sale.

“It has aloe vera, avocado and cucumber. It is so good for the skin.”

My skin is beyond redemption, so I tried to block him out of my hearing.

Our first scheduled stop was at Narok. We had passed through scorching heat and torrential rain, but thankfully, although it was dark, the weather was kind to us during the stop and I was able to fill my lungs with much-needed tobacco smoke.

Up to now, I had not been wearing a jacket of any sort, but took advantage of this stop to put on a lightweight waterproof. When I re-boarded the bus, the woman in the next seat spoke for the first time.

“I thought you did not have a jacket. I wondered how you would survive the night.”
I assured her that I was nice and warm, even without the jacket but thanked her for her concern. That ended the conversation.

Our next stop, at about 11pm was on the outskirts of Nairobi, for petrol and natural bodily functions. I smoked another cigarette.

We also stopped in Nairobi town to drop off and pick up passengers. This procedure is very noisy, especially when chickens are being transported.

2/6/09 Tuesday

At last we set off down the Mombasa road. There is a section which must be the worst of the whole journey. It is rutted, rocky and generally uncomfortable. The coach thought so too and blew the near-side front tyre. All due credit to the driver, we did not even deviate from our course. The driver and his crew piled out and so did some of the passengers, to watch the proceedings.

Realising that I had a torch that may be useful, I eventually got out – and had a cigarette whilst lighting the work area with my small but powerful gadget.

It wasn’t until I had re-boarded and we were on the way again, that I realised that we were in the Tsavo National Park, which is home to all the big cats, rhinos, snakes …

Our next scheduled stop was at the usual service area halfway between Nairobi and Mombasa. Like the stop at Narok, this place is very familiar to me.

Then we were on the last leg. We were late of course, due to the puncture, but as no one was meeting me, it did not matter to me.

After many stops to let people off, we arrived at the coach depot and I recovered my luggage from the hold.

Then every tout in Mombasa descended upon me, offering to carry my luggage, a tuk-tuk, a taxi, or just to relieve me of the price of a cup of coffee (or Tusker).
I declined all offers. I needed time to think. I had to get a matatu to Gede, where Liz would meet me – not a difficult task as long as I could get to wherever the matatus were parked up.

I asked a tuk-tuk driver and he offered to take me for 300/-. As the fare to Malindi is only 250/-, I considered this a bit much.

I was approached by another driver and we got chatting. He was not pushy and very pleasant. It turned out that he was Gusii and I told him that I have just spent two weeks in his homeland. That did it. He said he would take me to Braxton, the matatu stage, for 100/-. I accepted and we set off.

Of course, at Braxton, I was immediately set upon by more touts. I was in a fix as I only had 1000/- notes and the tuk-tuk driver did not have change. One tout, a bit smarter than the rest, paid the fare and said he would add it to the ticket. I was stuck with going on his matatu, which was a good thing as it was the express and he didn’t even try to raise the price of 250/-.

I was quite pleased with myself and climbed aboard. We had to wait until it was full, but it did not take long.

I arrived at Gede about an hour later. By now it was hot, and I found some shade to stand in while I waited for Liz. I didn’t have to wait long, and we set off on the short journey to the house, hot, tired but happy, and quite pleased with myself for travelling the breadth of Kenya with very little help or guidance.

The kids, of course, were at school, so we lazed around and caught up with each other’s news until it was time for them to come home.

Ian has grown – and lost his front teeth with his new ones pushing through. Natasha has lost her “puppy fat” but is as pretty as ever.

Ian can speak and understand English. Natasha has improved a lot and has vowed to speak only English to me. Both kids now call me Uncle David, which, as far as Natasha is concerned is an improvement on “My Mzungu”.

3/6/09 Wednesday

Liz sent the kids to school and went to work. I lazed around for a while before working on the KCIS website, which has a lot of things to be added, and children’s details to be updated – new ones added and old ones deleted.

There is an ant colony under the front step of the house. These are big ants. No, I mean it – BIG!

During the day I noticed that my right knee had swelled up with a series of blisters, which were weeping a nasty yellow liquid. It was getting painful as well. I bathed it and put a dressing on it, but it persisted, so I left it open to the air.

This carried on all day. Liz reckons it is a series of mosquito bites on my knee. I have to believe her, but I have never seen anything like it before.

The ants are scurrying around all day but never seem to come into the house. I watched as a 6 inch worm strayed too close. It was set upon with enthusiasm by the ants and 20 minutes later, there was nothing to show that it had ever existed.

The kids came home at about 4.30pm and I acted the strict parent, change of clothes, tea, homework. It worked pretty well and when Liz arrived home, homework was almost complete.

Ian likes taking photos. He has adopted my digital camera and taken a few good shots, but he gets excited and forgets that there is a delay between pressing the shutter release and the picture being taken, so some are a bit of a blur. Still, he is only seven and has a lot to learn, but if he is interested, I will be happy to show him.

As I was locking up for the night, I came across a millipede, or maybe a centipede. Either way, it was bigger than anything I have seen in this variety of animal. I would guess that it was about 4 inches long and a good ¼ inch diameter. Ian chased it out with a shoe!

4/6/09 Thursday

My knees are still swollen and sore, but not painful. Liz and the kids prepared themselves for the day and I am home alone. At 7am, it was still, calm and cloudy, but already warm – by my standards. At least.

And I have an upset stomach. It has nothing to do with Liz’s cooking, but is more a reaction to the change in climate, altitude and general environment, probably.

Now, the wind has got up and is blowing through the open windows and doors.

We have had two short power cuts this morning, which is forcing me to remember to press Ctrl-S frequently, but I have to be careful as the left Ctrl key doesn’t work.
9.15am. It has started to rain. I had seen people running and wondered why. It is a fine rain and I stood outside in it for a while – bliss. But it is getting heavier, enough to make a noise on the steel roof.

Most of the ants have scurried underground. The rest, if they are not careful will be washed into their nest, like it or not!

-oOo-

I had forgotten about the rent for Liz’s house. I meant to send a message home asking to send me some money yesterday. Oh well, deadline is tomorrow, so I guess I still have time.

It is extortionate. OK, so it has electricity (sometimes) and piped water, which has to be boiled for drinking, one bedroom and a wet room with a shower head and a kitchen with running water.

The rain has stopped and there is a cool but intermittent breeze, nice while it is there. The dust has settled for the time being and everything outside looks fresh. But I doubt that it will last. When it heats up, it will be back to the usual hot, dusty environment. I do not much like Malindi. In fact the only good thing about it is that Liz and the children live here, otherwise I would not come at all – too hot.

Kisii, on the other hand, although closer to the Equator, is more temperate, due to its altitude at about 5,700 feet. But during the rainy season, it rains. Oh, how it rains.

I’m on a bit of a downer at the moment. I am stuck at the house because of my knees hurting when I walk. I am alone here as Liz is at work and the kids are at school. There is very little food. We had a spend-up on Tuesday, but we seem to have used everything in one go.

Eric from Rhino Ark phoned earlier, saying that he had a load of updates for the website and was I on-line. I had to tell him that I had a Safaricom dongle, but that I had run out of credit and could not get any just at the moment.

I texted my friend in the UK, Allan to ask him to ask Mum to send me £150. He said that she would not be very happy about it. I can imagine, but I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need it. Anyway, he will sort it out for me. I think that Mum doesn’t like going to the post office and that will be the reason for her being upset.

My next trip to Kenya will be shorter. This is too long, I want to go home. Or I want to go back to Kisii. I was fine until I got here. I find this place depressing. The house is lovely for Liz and the kids, sitting in a large secure, grassy compound with lots of trees, but there is no life here during the day. At least in Kisii, there were people passing along somewhere. There were wild birds to photograph as well. Here, there are just an assortment of insects, chickens and goats!

-oOo-

I have come to the conclusion that if it flies, it bites, if it crawls, it stings.

I noticed earlier that the back on my leg is covered in blood. Well, not covered, but certainly I have bled from something.

Oh for a kettle, a teapot, a fridge, a cooker. Liz has a freezer that she switches on and off to keep the temperature cold without freezing everything to death.

As it is, Liz has a gas burner which is very efficient, but has only one ring. I have to boil water in pots. I have put some boiled water in the freezer for drinking, but it tastes, well, boiled!

I am disillusioned with the Safaricom dongle. It seems to eat credit, but maybe that was Vincent. I will have to keep a firm check on how much I use it.

-oOo-

The kids got home at about 4.30.as usual, changed, had a cup of tea and started their homework.

Natasha just dashes into hers, just wanting to get it finished in the shortest possible time.

Ian takes a more measured approach, reading the questions and giving the answers verbally for me to give my approval. Then he sets about writing them in his book, fairly confident that he has the right answers.

We went into the “garden”, a communal plot with grass and coconut palms and mango trees. Ian was riding his bike and Natasha was just running around. She threw herself at me and I swung her round. That started a whole new game for the two of them and before too long, I was out of breath. That didn’t stop them wanting more, so I threw Ian over my shoulder, let him slide down my back and caught his ankles. This was great fun – apparently – and of course, Natasha had to have a go, several goes, in fact.

Liz came home and set about getting dinner. I was relieved as I had had little to eat today.

The kids were bathed and bedded and we followed soon after, as usual. Bed time for all of us is early as Liz and the kids get up at 5.45.

I slept for a while, but woke up at 1 o’clock, hot, sweaty and not sleepy, so I got up.

I stood on the porch letting the minimal cool breeze wash over me, then had a cold drink.

Then I felt more like sleeping again.