Detour to Kilema - part two

This little village of Kilema is crazy...and I think it might be a microcosm for the entire country of Tanzania. In the last week, I've met a man who hasn't left his porch in three years, witnessed a witch hunt aimed at village children, and have had trouble finding a banana to eat -- even though this house is surrounded by banana trees. Nothing is easy here.

Mama Flora introduced me to a man who hasn't been able to leave his home in three years because the tires on his wheelchair are deflated. This is a perfect example of a solvable problem that no one solves. (Mind boggling!)  (Had Babu Bob known about this problem, he would have fixed it in a heartbeat....but Mama didn't tell him for some reason.) One trip to bike stores in Moshi and the problem is almost fixed...now just need to find someone to repair the tires (supposedly the carpenter at the church knows how to do this...we will see). Unfortunately, everyone is so consumed with current village drama that I'm afraid there will be a delay getting this done...but the man hasn't used his wheelchair in three years...I guess he can wait a few more days, right?

The 14 year old boy on the right has been this man's aide since the age of 7
 when his parents died of AIDS. He helps this man with everything.

Warren's camera was stolen from his room last week. A witch hunt ensued, in which some village children were put on trial by many local adults (including the village chairman) as their way of investigating. Hours of finger pointing and crying and yelling and pushing led to..........nothing. So instead of going about it in a different way, the village leaders got the police involved and took the teens to jail down in Himo, so the truth could be beaten out of them. I won't get into all the details, but the way the case of the missing camera has been handled would be laughable if it wasn't so sad. You are definitely guilty until proven innocent here. The camera drama is now going on its fifth day and still....no camera. Talk about a distraction! I need to get Babu Bob back on track first thing tomorrow morning...I have a plan.


banana tree from my bedroom window
(bananas everywhere, except the dining table)

Just about my favorite kid in Africa...
Emanuel is 14, orphaned, & possibly the sweetest teenage boy I've ever met.







Mama Flora with Frank and his friend
(see last week's entry for his story)

Obedio, 14 yr old orphan born HIV+...
a regular around here

Thoughts: I appreciate things now that I never knew were important to me, like fitted sheets and pens. I've also learned to never buy Snickers bars in East Africa (g-r-o-s-s). Refrigerators are great, but not necessary. And when you leave your window open, bugs WILL enter...and they will stay all night...and usually the next day too.



My typical afternoon snack



Our 16 yr old cook, Jackie, isn't able to
 attend school so she works for Babu instead.
I'm worried that she gets too attached to the
volunteers who come and go. 



Babu Bob in his newly organized office (never mind the desk mess)...Wall decorations by yours truly.

  


Rhode Island cousins, Becky & Alyssa, with Steven...one of the best kids EVER. The mark on the top of his head is his teacher's way of letting his parents know he can't return until his head is shaved (like a note home).



This picture was taken in front of the fancy neighborhood bar and ironically, 
 by the young boy who stole the camera (under the order of an older kid, supposedly).





Detour to Kilema - part one

Plans changed and I've ended up at Orphans of Kilimajaro, a place I've actually had on my radar for many months and was then reminded of when I ran into Babu Bob at the ATM in Moshi.. I recognized him from his website and there was something about him that I couldn't quite shake. Weeks went by and I still kept thinking about the twinkle in that man's eyes and his thick old-school Texan accent. When these few weeks opened up I decided to send him an email to see if I could come to his "Garden of Eden" in the foothills of Mt. Kilimanjaro, so here I am. The village of Kilema is very rural, very poor, and very beautiful. It's located a little over an hour from Moshi and about 10 miles up the mountain from Marangu. There aren't any stores or restaurants, just bars that serve warm beer and homemade brew (which I won't touch, don't worry). Banana trees line all the dirt roads, as do many young children carrying machetes and unemployed men on their way to or from the bar. Everyone is super friendly and eager to speak the few English words they may know ("Good afternoon, Missus"). And although most people seem somewhat content, there is actually a lot of despair here...everyone seems to have a story that breaks my heart.

Babu Bob is here to help the people of these villages, which have a ridiculously high HIV rate and an even higher unemployment rate. Many children are orphaned because their parents have died of AIDS and the families in the area are trying to survive on just about nothing. Babu Bob is here to help give them hope and opportunities by providing them with food, educational assistance and medical care.

I've only been here less than a week, but have already met some incredible children in this tiny, middle-of-nowhere village:

• Benny is about twelve years old and is incredibly shy, probably due to the cantelope-sized growth on the side of his head. He wouldn't speak to me at first, but then warmed up after I let him write in my notebook. He doesn't attend school because children tease him, so no one has ever noticed his dyslexia until I looked at the words he copied down from a poster. Everything was written perfectly, but backward. We played hopscotch together and drew with the colored chalk my mom sent (thanks!).  Babu Bob has coordinated medical care for him and Benny is scheduled for surgery early next month.
• I visited 17 year old Frank in the hospital, his home for the last six years. He's a paraplegic due to a digging accident he had when he was just eleven years old while trying to make money for his family. His parents have passed away and his siblings live out of town, so Babu coordinates all of Frank's medical care and visits him on a regular basis. His bed sores are overwhelming and the hospital, although very clean, doesn't provide much attention. He has nothing except a little cassette player/radio which he uses all day long to play gospel music. I want to find things for him to pass the time, but what he really needs is a tutor who speaks Swahili and someone to do physical therapy with him. If only. (UPDATE: Frank passed away on August 16, 2011. Part of me feels relieved to know he's no longer suffering. His bedsores had gotten to an unimaginable point and his colostomy complications became much more severe. But I can't shake my sadness about his suffering. Here is Babu's emotional description of Frank's death, but only view it if you want handle reality at its worst. http://www.orphansofkilimanjaro.org/)
• And then there's Obedio, a 14 year old boy whose been staying with us the last few nights because he sprained his ankle and couldn't walk home (there aren't cars around here). He lives with his grandmother because both of his parents have died of AIDS. Obedio was born HIV+ and Babu Bob helps him get his anti-viral medication and also provides him and his grandmother with food.

But I'm not in Kilema because of these children....I'm here because of Babu Bob. He's given up everything to help some of the world's neediest people. He's led a fascinating life, which includes three adopted children of his own, a successful career in engineering, and a post-retirement Peace Corps position. For the last 17 years Babu has dedicated himself to the people of Tanzania, but has faced many obstacles that would send most people back home in a heartbeat. Aside from the difficulties he's encountered with the corrupt Tanzanian government, he's also had some terrible health issues over the last few years, including (but not limited to!) congestive heart failure, a colostomy, and a few minor strokes. It's amazing he's still here, trying with all his energy to make a difference in this tiny village of Kilema.

I came here with the purpose of teaching, but immediately realized my time and energy would be better spent helping Babu get organized. We're creating a working budget, getting his nonprofit status finalized in the U.S. and strategically reorganizing Orphans of Kilmanjaro so that it reflects his real vision and mission. Then I'll work on funding once I leave Africa (that week-long grant writing workshop is finally going to pay off!). I showed up just as he was slipping into a hole of hopelessness, so my goal is to provide him with the direction he needs to then give help to the people in Kilema. Stay tuned!

Nairobi, Nakuru, Naivasha

Nairobi
The shuttle bus from Moshi to Nairobi spent about 85% of the nine hour journey off-roading because the long "highway" was under construction. About 10% was spent stopped or broken down. Only 5% was on a paved road...but 99% of that 5% reminded me of a car racing video game where you weave in and out of traffic, hoping not to die. It was an interesting way to enter the city known as "Nairobbery."

We found a backpackers' hostel full of budget travelers from all over the world...most of whom spend their evenings around the fire, reading their Lonely Planet Africa books, drinking Tusker, and one-upping each other on travel stories. It makes for good people watching, especially while I sit by the fire, read my guidebook and drink a Tusker...

Grad Night 1993
(we still look the same, right????)

One of the greatest parts of this city is that my high school buddy lives here. Since graduation, she has worked her way around the world and is currently in Kenya doing nutrition education in slums and rural areas. She is amazing. And she hasn't changed at all. I swear she still looks 18 to me. We spent the day with Christine and her boyfriend, a 23 year old hip hop artist named Octo, as well as his one-and-half year old daughter, Tracy.

Octo, the oldest of four children, was orphaned at the age of 15 and left to raise himself in Kibera, the largest slum in Africa and one of the biggest in the world. It houses about one million people who don't have much access to basic human needs, like clean water. Octo, who also runs a youth center in Kibera, provided us with a tour of his old neighborhood. (Tours of Kibera are starting to become popular with Nairobi tourists, but not many guides can take you deep inside...most stay along the perimeter.) There aren't many roads in Kibera, just walking paths that take you past countless mud shacks, mounds of trash, catatonic dogs, piles of charcoal for sale, streams of sewage, goats, and gangs of unsupervised toddlers. I felt the way Lesley Stahl often looks while on assignment...completely out of place. I didn't want to come across as a wealthy, white voyeur touring one of the poorest neighborhoods in the world...but that's exactly what I was.  I have never before felt so privilliged.

After walking for at least an hour through the slum's maze, we finally arrived at our destination: Octo's rented shack, where his 12 year old brother currently lives (ALONE). His brother was still at school so we hung out in his room without him, completely in awe of his living quarters. The 8x8 room was dark with the only light coming from the doorway and a few openings in the tin roof. He has fearless rats as roommates and strangers as neighbors. There is a little charcoal stove in the corner, which he uses to cook all his breakfasts and dinners (he gets lunch at school). Newspaper pages from the fashion and entertainment sections decorate some of the wall space, but it's mostly just mud. Just outside his front door is a pile of trash and stream of raw sewage. The nearby outhouse, used by countless people, had recently fallen apart. When it rains heavily  this raw sewage finds its way inside his front door. I can't stop thinking about this 12 year old boy who I haven't even met! Christine and Octo are hoping he gets accepted into a boarding school at the beginning of the new year, along with his 15 year old sister (a whole other story!) who is also in need of a new living arrangement.

Octo's recent feature in a Nairobi newspaper

Starting our tour of Kibera with Octo...still in the peripheral "safe zone". 

The mud room on the right is where Octo's brother lives...and where Octo lived until recently. During the rainy season, that little stream of sewage rises through into his shack.

Tracy, Princess of well behaved children

 Nakuru

The two hour matatu ride from Nairobi to Nakura made my shuttle bus from Moshi seem luxurious. I was crammed into the 14th seat in the back corner of this soon-to-be-illegal mode of transportation and every little bump made my head hit the roof. N and I headed into Lake Nakuru National Park, just on the outskirts of this crowded town, for the next 24 hours. The afternoon safari was amazing, despite having a teenager who couldn't drive a manual car as a guide. We had close up encounters with endangered rhino, giraffes, cape buffalo, antelope of all kinds, thousands of flamingos, white pelicans, cranes, and even a leopard! We didn't see any tree climbing lions, but heard a pair mating during the night just ouside our camp's fence. Our morning safari was equally relaxing and beautiful, and by the afternoon we were loving Nakuru. After lunch we decided to find a place to stay the night so we could explore the town a bit more, but we wanted to leave the area after learning that all Nakuru hotels (even those recommended by the guidebook) are havens for prostitutes and their patrons. During that walk through town, I realized Nakuru has a sinister energy to it that completely contrasts with the feeling at the neighboring lake. Nakuru kind of reminded me of an old frontier town from the 1800's...lots of desperate people crammed together and trying to make money in any way possible, whether it be from stealing, swindling, prostituting, begging, or selling random cuts of meat. After a frustrating encounter with a con-artist at the bus station, we were happily on our way to Naivasha.

lots of white and black rhinos in this park

the male (left) went to start some trouble with the three ladies

I'm now a birder! (this is a weaver)

baboon eating a mango along the lookout point

beautiful water buck

one of the only places where
Rothschild giraffes still roam free

the lake is known for its flocks of flamingos

view from lookout point (Baboon Cliffs)

Naivasha
The matatu dropped us off down the hill from Top Camp and we hiked up, hoping we'd like what we'd find. The view was amazing and our little cabin was surrounded by huge flowering cacti, birds, roaming cattle, chickens, and insects galore. This could be entymologist's lab, especially in the outhouse at night. N & I found a local restaurant with yummy comfort food for about $1 per meal, a resort camp across the road with $3 coffee (what a contrast!), and many small butcheries (usually connected to a bar or a hotel). Our bike ride in Hell's Gate was hellish....I'm still recovering. I actually found myself missing the city of Nairobi...so we headed back for another night at our hippie hostel, kissed some giraffes, and went out for the best Ethiopian food of my life.

Hell's Gate National Park (while I was still enjoying the ride)

AMAZING Ethiopian food in Nairobi

 

Stella, people person extraordinaire and night receptionist at Milimani Backpacker's Hostel.