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.