Addendum: Videos

I shot some videos while I was in Kenya and Egypt, but I didn't get to post most of them because I had slow internet connections. So, I've finally uploaded them to YouTube, and would like to share them here. Below are two video playlists - one from Kenya and one from Egypt. Enjoy!

Kenya


Egypt

Together in Spirit

I returned back to America yesterday afternoon. Patrick and I landed at JFK International Airport in NYC and parted ways. It felt strange being separate, and newly independent for the first time in ten weeks, as he walked away. I couldn't have asked for a better partner-in-service than him this summer. He caught a connecting flight to St. Louis and I am staying in the NYC for a few days to spend time with friends before flying home to Florida. It feels good to be back in the U.S., but I'm already missing Kenya incredibly much.

On the night before we departed, we exchanged gifts with Welliminah and family. After ten weeks of amazingly generous hospitality, Patrick and I were surprised to receive a gift from them as well. We were each given our very own beautiful African kikoi shirt and konga fabric to give to our mothers. They were moving gifts - whenever I wear the shirt I will think of my Kenyan family, their beautiful country, and their warm hearts.

The next morning we were up early to depart. I was proudly wearing my new kikoi shirt. Susan arrived with Okwemba to take us to the airport. In almost perfect symmetry, we ended our stay at Welliminah's house the same as we started - by bowing our heads in prayer. Welliminah said a touching prayer thanking us for our time together and wishing us safe travels until we return to Kenya in the future. I'll never forget what she said: "Our bodies are parting ways, but our spirits remain together." Sitting here in New York, I couldn't agree more, because I can still feel it. On the return flight across the Atlantic, I kept thinking back to our final goodbye in Welliminah's front yard, and I couldn't stop thinking to myself, "Why am I leaving Kenya?". That's how comfortable and natural and alive I felt there. I'm already anticipating the day that our bodies and spirits are reunited once again.

As bittersweet as it was being driven away from Es'saba village in Okwemba's car that morning, there was a large feeling of accomplishment as well. As I took one last look at the beautiful scenery surrounding Kisumu with a clear, sunny, blue sky all around, I knew that we were leaving Kenya better than we found it. And not nearly just because of the success of our projects, although I have great pride in what we accomplished. We were flying away from a new Kenya - a young democracy with a bright future ahead of it, with a new Constitution in tow. The country overwhelmingly passed the new constitution on August 4th, and did so peacefully. As Okwemba, the driver whose interest in politics I profiled in an earlier post, delivered us to the airport, he remarked, "You see, this country now is peaceful and happy because the people have been heard."

Their peace is my own. Their happiness is my own. I will continue to watch Kenya and stay in touch with my family there with much interest in their growth and progress. In the coming months, I will watch as 30 Kenyan students work with 15 American students to promote solutions to the global water crisis. And until the next time I return to Kenya, I will keep their spirit, and my own, alive deep inside my heart.

Myself, Ann, Divo, Welliminah, and Esther the day before I left

Life is Good Pt. 2

More pictures of the good life from the past four weeks in Kenya.

Boga poses with Flat Stanley

Photo shoot with the kids...

Riding my bike at sunset through Es'saba Village's narrow walkways. 

The wet season ended at the end of June, which means that there has been considerably less rain in July. Every night now, there is a line of people waiting to fill up their jerry cans with water from the stream.

These kids are sent out every night before dinner to go fetch some water for their family.

Then they haul the heavy water up the hill. If they're lucky, their family lives close to the spring, otherwise, some have to walk for upwards of a mile. 

 

I fetched some water one night myself, carrying it on my head like these girls. Luckily, Welliminah's house isn't terribly far from the stream. It was a workout though. I had a sore neck afterward. All the villagers laughed at the sight of me carrying water.

 

A beautiful view at sunset. See that large hill in the distance? We climbed that with Ben. Apparently the local story is that the rain Gods live there (although I don't think anybody around here actually still prays or believes in such Gods).

 Boats on Lake Victoria's shore in Kisumu. I was there to arrange a field trip for the students in the program I'm developing. They'll go there in October to learn about the lake, take a tour on these boats, and do community service. 

 Welliminah told Patrick one night that she wants us to return to the airport in America looking very "healthy" (read: fat), to show our parents how well we were taken care of. She had this hilarious quote: "When you come off the plane looking fat, your parents will be so proud." So Patrick stuffed his pillow under his shirt after dinner one night to show them how fat he's become. Laughter ensued.

Students at Ebusiloli taking down and folding up the flag at the end of the school day. 

Vincent receives a bath from Moraa. 

A beautiful road on a walk with Ben. 

Over the weekend, Patrick and I met our new classmate from Class 6, Shamim Okolloh. Shamim just so happens to be from Kenya - with family roots in the Bunyore area, where we are doing our projects. Although she's lived in Atlanta for several years now, she came back to her high school in Kaimosi to organize the school's very first alumni day. She invited us as well. The school is an all-girls boarding school and is nearly one hundred years old (the oldest alum present graduated in 1936!). Below is a picture of her addressing the over 1200 in attendance. First impressions of Shamim: impressive, confident, awesome. 

She also spun a fast one on us and had us address the humongous crowd of students, faculty, and alumni as well, without any preparation. Afterwards, the students bombarded us with questions and picture requests. See below. My favorite question from one of the students: "Do you hate being governed by a black man, Barack Obama?" Apparently she didn't notice I was wearing his t-shirt. My reply: "No, I love it!"

Lastly, I'll leave you with Richie, the subject of the greatest photo I have ever taken (it's now my desktop background):

I am just here.

One of my favorite phrases that Kenyans are prone to saying is, "I am just here." I have heard this (or "We are just here," or "You are just here") over a hundred times over the past seven weeks that I've been in Kenya. I've heard it in so many situations - such as when Ben takes a seat on the sofa in Welliminah's living room after being welcomed in ("So David, I am just here"), or running into our driver Okwemba while walking in the Luanda marketplace ("So, we are just here"). The statement is always accompanied by a large, satisfied smile and direct, prolonged eye contact - I suppose, in order to savor the moment that the person is "just here" in.

The first time hearing this expression - like I imagine Americans reading this right now - I found it a bit funny. When I would hear the phrase, I would think to myself, "Yes clearly, I can see you." Yet, it seems to have grown on me. I have begun finding myself echoing the expression in return to my Kenyan counterparts ("Yes, we are here"). Despite the fact that the phrase is a statement of the obvious, there's some beauty in the acknowledgment of the moment at hand - the space that is being occupied, the people occupying it, and the simple joy in being "here," wherever that may be. It makes me realize how seldom I stop to appreciate each unique moment in time in my daily life in the United States (and how much our culture seems to discourage it).

I haven't really used this blog to reflect on my personal thoughts, so I wanted to briefly share how I have fared in Kenya, and to share some reflections on what I have personally gained over the past seven weeks.  Over the first twenty-plus years of my life, I have come to understand that I have a strong tendency to constantly look forward. I'm always looking ahead (what's next? where am I going? what's happening tomorrow?). This is my fourth trip abroad in my life, and each time, I have found myself constantly thinking about what I would do when I get back to the States and back to "normal life." Each time, I would get back and reflect on my trip and often find myself wishing I had appreciated my time overseas more, and not spent so much time thinking about what I would do when I got home.

This trip has been different though. Perhaps my past regrets of not staying "in the moment" has caused me to be more conscious about it this time around. But I also think I have matured and become a wiser person since the last time I traveled abroad. I seem to be appreciating each moment more. For instance, I believe the work I'm doing for Kijana is important, but I would also have to say that many seemingly mundane moments from the past seven weeks have been equally important. Moments like lying on the grass under the shade of an avocado tree with Juliette's baby Vincent sitting on my stomach for an hour at a time. Moments like walking with Ben at sunset - soft, warm sunlight from the horizon, beautiful lush green plants in every direction, the smell of smoke in the air as families cook dinner - as I come to the realization that I feel more alive than I have ever felt in my life.

That feeling of being alive is what being a human is supposed to feel like. I believe that that feeling is the fulfillment of the human spirit's highest potential. It's the feeling of having a warm heart - spread to me like a contagious virus by the smiles and genuine spirit of virtually every person I have met here. I have been infected by the warmest hearts I have ever encountered, and I intend to bring it home with me.

I have three more weeks of staying in the moment here in Es'saba village. I am truly going to miss my Kenyan family - Welliminah, Juliette, Ann, Sam, Ben, Divo, Moraa, Vincent, and others - and I am truly going to miss the beauty and peacefulness that permeates throughout this paradise. This is sincerely the happiest I have been in my life. I could stay here forever.

But let me stop myself from looking too far into the future, lest I forget: I am just here.

Life is Good.

Inspired by my "Life is Good," water bottle that I drink out of, here are some pictures of the good life from the last four weeks here in Es'saba Village.

Crossing a stream on a walk with Ben

Patrick and Ben crossing the bridge

This was on the first day of the World Cup, June 11th. We went on a walk with Ben just before the first game between South Africa and Mexico, and brought a soccer ball along with us. As we were walking, these kids saw our soccer ball and came out of nowhere, sprinting towards us. So we stopped and played with them for about 30 minutes. They were reluctant to see us finally move on.

A scene of the Kenyan countryside while walking with Ben.

At home with Moraa, little Vincent, Divo, and neighbor Musa.

Divo now knows that "it's great to be a Florida Gator"

And he looks cool with it backwards too. (Also notice the mis-spellings on his shirt)

In the car with Okwemba. Patrick in the front seat.

That jerry can sitting on top of the chair is full of rain water. It's the water Patrick and I use to wash our hands, brush our teeth, and do other things of the sort.

Welliminah's beautiful home at sunset.

A freshly filled can of rainwater.

Neighborhood friends in the back of the house.

Peter (prounounced "Pita"), Divo, Boga.

Big little men at dusk.

Apparently the Terrible Turkey likes to hang out on top of the water tank sometimes. Little Vincent below.

Sitting in the front yard about to begin reading the final chapter of Three Cups of Tea. What an amazing book. So inspiring. One of the best written books I've ever read, as well.

Kitties in the house at the end of the day. Kenyans don't name their cats, so Patrick has named them "Lucky" (on the left, because she looks like his childhood cat, also named Lucky), and "Monkey" (on the right, for the annoying, monkey-like meow she makes). Lucky is Monkey's mother.

Hard at work late in the evening.