Just got back from Mombasa, where two other volunteers (Amy and Lauren from Canada) and I spent the weekend lying on the beach under the hot tropical sun. The beach was so beautiful; white sand, gorgeous blue sky, and clear blue water. For around $7 per person, we were able to ride a camel and enjoy an hour-long massage. We also had dinner in a cave-like restaurant called Ali Barbour's, where the waiter flambeed mango at our table. Photos to be uploaded later.
I've been guilty of not updating my blog regularly. I will blog more about the orphanage in the next few days and hopefully also upload some pictures.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Faraja Kuku Project!
Marc (a previous volunteer) and I are helping the orphanage raise money to expand their chicken farm. Currently, the chicken farm provides the only source of income for the orphanage. The eggs are sold locally, and profits are used to meet some of the basic needs like food and water. By increasing the number of chickens in the farm, we hope the farm would eventually be able to generate enough income to pay for other things like rent and school fees. The ultimate goal is to move away from over-dependence on charity and to create a financially self-sufficient orphanage.
For more information on how you can help, please visit http://farajaproject.blogspot.com/
Thanks in advance!
For more information on how you can help, please visit http://farajaproject.blogspot.com/
Thanks in advance!
Monday, August 23, 2010
More About Faraja
There is no running water at Faraja. Clutching a 2-liter plastic bottle in each hand, the children – the five year-olds included – shuttle back and forth daily between the orphanage and a water pump some ten minutes away uphill behind the orphanage. They make multiple trips to fetch the 200 liters of water that the orphanage uses everyday.
Neither is there electricity. The children, according to Moraa, would normally have an early dinner before it gets too dark to see. Rarely can the orphanage afford to light lanterns or candles inside the house, so the children often cannot study at night.
Congestion is a problem – the boys and girls live in two separate bedrooms, with more than ten kids to each room. One sick child is all it'd take to initiate a mini-epidemic. There is no quiet study space. No wardrobe where they could keep their clothes organized. No bookshelf for their books. Everything was haphazardly stuffed into several rice sacks.
Moraa also worries constantly about eviction, which I believe has happened before when they were in Kibera and couldn’t afford to pay rent.
Despite these challenges, not once has the orphanage pressured the volunteers for money. Moraa and Omari appreciate the presence of volunteers for the simple joy it brings to the orphanage. Visitors, Moraa says, “donate their time” to make the children, most of whom have suffered some form of abuse or abandonment in their lives, feel special and loved.
Nevertheless, volunteers have been donating somewhat generously to the orphanage. An American volunteer, Marc, paid for water to be delivered twice weekly to the orphanage while he was here for a month. He also bought a wheelbarrow (to fetch water) and two weeks’ worth of beans for the orphanage just before he left. Others brought toys for the kids on their last day at the orphanage.
The presence of foreign volunteers, moreover, seems to have stirred the local conscience. Last week, one Kenyan volunteer remarked to me, “If people come all the way from America to care for these children, how can we who live here not do anything to help?” A local woman, Catherine, volunteers at the orphanage regularly.
Most amazingly, these kids never have to be told what to do. They are not your average kids. They help Moraa with the chores and keep the orphanage running – fetching the water, doing the dishes, washing the laundry, cooking the meals, feeding the chickens etc. These kids, inured to poverty and hardship, have learned to be independent and resourceful. They understand the value of hard work, of sharing, the importance of looking out for each other. A previous volunteer, Gloria, calls them the “good” kids.
I will upload pictures soon, if internet speed willing.
Neither is there electricity. The children, according to Moraa, would normally have an early dinner before it gets too dark to see. Rarely can the orphanage afford to light lanterns or candles inside the house, so the children often cannot study at night.
Congestion is a problem – the boys and girls live in two separate bedrooms, with more than ten kids to each room. One sick child is all it'd take to initiate a mini-epidemic. There is no quiet study space. No wardrobe where they could keep their clothes organized. No bookshelf for their books. Everything was haphazardly stuffed into several rice sacks.
Moraa also worries constantly about eviction, which I believe has happened before when they were in Kibera and couldn’t afford to pay rent.
Despite these challenges, not once has the orphanage pressured the volunteers for money. Moraa and Omari appreciate the presence of volunteers for the simple joy it brings to the orphanage. Visitors, Moraa says, “donate their time” to make the children, most of whom have suffered some form of abuse or abandonment in their lives, feel special and loved.
Nevertheless, volunteers have been donating somewhat generously to the orphanage. An American volunteer, Marc, paid for water to be delivered twice weekly to the orphanage while he was here for a month. He also bought a wheelbarrow (to fetch water) and two weeks’ worth of beans for the orphanage just before he left. Others brought toys for the kids on their last day at the orphanage.
The presence of foreign volunteers, moreover, seems to have stirred the local conscience. Last week, one Kenyan volunteer remarked to me, “If people come all the way from America to care for these children, how can we who live here not do anything to help?” A local woman, Catherine, volunteers at the orphanage regularly.
Most amazingly, these kids never have to be told what to do. They are not your average kids. They help Moraa with the chores and keep the orphanage running – fetching the water, doing the dishes, washing the laundry, cooking the meals, feeding the chickens etc. These kids, inured to poverty and hardship, have learned to be independent and resourceful. They understand the value of hard work, of sharing, the importance of looking out for each other. A previous volunteer, Gloria, calls them the “good” kids.
I will upload pictures soon, if internet speed willing.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Lions and Wildebeests
Went on a 3-day safari this past weekend at the Maasai Mara Game Reserve (around 4 hours’ drive from Nairobi) with a couple of other volunteers.
Here are some photos/highlights from my trip:
A safari van has a detachable roof so that you can stick your head out to take pictures.
A herd of African elephants
Maasai giraffes
Lions!
Zebras, my least favorite. They do nothing but eat all day long, their heads bowed low in the mud, perpetually stuffing their faces with grass.
Impalas. According to our driver Jimmy, each male impala can have up to 30 wives! Can you spot the male impala in the picture (it's the one with horns)? What a player.
In the distance, miniature wildebeests dot the savannah landscape. Our visit coincided with the annual wildebeest migration, so these somewhat plain-looking creatures, which gallop with an awkward strut, were everywhere.
Sausage(fest) tree. I later learnt from a Maasai that the “sausages” are fermented with honey and water to make beer. Interesting.
Sunset over the Mara. Gorgeous.
Sunrise over the Mara.
The ride, I must say, was extremely uncomfortable for one susceptible to spells of motion sickness. All day long our vehicle staggered across a rocky, sandy terrain, swaying left and right to dodge the countless potholes. The ride was so bumpy, I could feel my organs shifting inside my body after a while. Dust mercilessly stung my eyes. We (five of us volunteers) were cooped up in the van all day long, the tedium relieved only by the occasional animal sightings.
Our tents. Complete with hot showers, beds, and a toilet.
We also visited a Maasai village on our second day in the late afternoon.
Greeted with a traditional Maasai dance upon arrival. Male visitors were invited to dance along.
Traditional Maasai housing is constructed mostly out of cow dung, with a thatched roof.
The interior. Pitch black and suffocatingly smoky.
Making fire by friction.
The Maasais drink cow blood for breakfast. The animal is not killed; its vein is pierced with an arrow at close range, and when enough blood has been collected, the wound is sealed and the cow remains alive.
The Maasai in this picture offered us a sip of the sickly-looking red liquid, at which point we hastily backed off.
Maasai women display their colorful crafts at the Maasai Market
The highlight of my visit was probably buying a lion’s tooth necklace (at a very good price) off a Maasai gentleman. He claimed the canine came from a lion he killed years ago while undergoing his rite of passage as a young Maasai warrior.
An elusive purchase, my favorite thus far in Kenya.
P.S. Fell sick right after safari, and freaked out majorly thinking I caught malaria. Went to the clinic yesterday. Thankfully, no malaria, only the common cold.
Here are some photos/highlights from my trip:
A safari van has a detachable roof so that you can stick your head out to take pictures.
A herd of African elephants
Maasai giraffes
Lions!
Zebras, my least favorite. They do nothing but eat all day long, their heads bowed low in the mud, perpetually stuffing their faces with grass.
Impalas. According to our driver Jimmy, each male impala can have up to 30 wives! Can you spot the male impala in the picture (it's the one with horns)? What a player.
In the distance, miniature wildebeests dot the savannah landscape. Our visit coincided with the annual wildebeest migration, so these somewhat plain-looking creatures, which gallop with an awkward strut, were everywhere.
Sausage(fest) tree. I later learnt from a Maasai that the “sausages” are fermented with honey and water to make beer. Interesting.
Sunset over the Mara. Gorgeous.
Sunrise over the Mara.
The ride, I must say, was extremely uncomfortable for one susceptible to spells of motion sickness. All day long our vehicle staggered across a rocky, sandy terrain, swaying left and right to dodge the countless potholes. The ride was so bumpy, I could feel my organs shifting inside my body after a while. Dust mercilessly stung my eyes. We (five of us volunteers) were cooped up in the van all day long, the tedium relieved only by the occasional animal sightings.
Our tents. Complete with hot showers, beds, and a toilet.
We also visited a Maasai village on our second day in the late afternoon.
Greeted with a traditional Maasai dance upon arrival. Male visitors were invited to dance along.
Traditional Maasai housing is constructed mostly out of cow dung, with a thatched roof.
The interior. Pitch black and suffocatingly smoky.
Making fire by friction.
The Maasais drink cow blood for breakfast. The animal is not killed; its vein is pierced with an arrow at close range, and when enough blood has been collected, the wound is sealed and the cow remains alive.
The Maasai in this picture offered us a sip of the sickly-looking red liquid, at which point we hastily backed off.
Maasai women display their colorful crafts at the Maasai Market
The highlight of my visit was probably buying a lion’s tooth necklace (at a very good price) off a Maasai gentleman. He claimed the canine came from a lion he killed years ago while undergoing his rite of passage as a young Maasai warrior.
An elusive purchase, my favorite thus far in Kenya.
P.S. Fell sick right after safari, and freaked out majorly thinking I caught malaria. Went to the clinic yesterday. Thankfully, no malaria, only the common cold.
Faraja Children's Home: The Orphanage on the Hill
I have been volunteering at Faraja (which means “comfort” in Swahili) Children’s Home for more than a week now.
The story of the orphanage began in 2006 in a one-room shack in Kibera, the largest slum in East Africa today. One day, Moraa’s youngest son, Emmanuel, brought home two playmates, siblings Mwadime and Mogoi, who eventually grew so attached to the family that they would follow Emmanuel home in the evening and refuse to leave.
Later, Moraa found out they were orphans – HIV-positive - whose parents had succumbed to AIDS. They were living with relatives who abused them. Touched by the plight of these two children, Moraa – herself a struggling 46-year old single mother of three children – decided to take them in.
As word got around in the slum that a mother was taking in unwanted children, people started dropping off their children at Moraa’s shack – permanently. Several children, whose parents were killed during the 2007 post-election violence in Kibera, also came to Moraa for help. In spite of her limited resources, she did not have the heart to turn them away.
Today, the Faraja Children’s Home, registered as a Community-Based Organization just the beginning of this year, provides a safe haven for 34 orphans and vulnerable children (OVCs), ranging from 2 – 13 years of age. 7 of them are HIV-positive.
The children’s stories are nothing short of tragic. One day, Moraa noticed one of the girls urinating blood. She told Moraa how years ago, a man would “touch” her every time she went to fetch water. Today, at a tender age of 10, this little girl not only suffers from vaginal injuries but also is HIV-positive.
Others were orphaned by HIV/AIDS, some abandoned by their parents/relatives, or rescued from abusive homes. One child’s parents – who made a living as thieves in the Kibera slum – were hacked to death by an angry mob.
Moraa, a humble, soft-spoken woman, has three children of her own. The eldest, 23 year-old Omari, is a final year civil engineering student at a local university who helps out around the orphanage during summer vacation. A budding social entrepreneur, Omari recently built a chicken farm behind the orphanage in order to generate income for the orphanage (more details later). Moraa’s younger children, Emmanuel (11?) and Esther (9?), treat the orphans as their own siblings. “Ma,” meaning “mother,” is what all the children at the orphanage call Moraa.
“This is when I feel happiest – when I see my children eating,” she beamed proudly a few days ago. Amazing what a difference one woman’s grace and compassion can make in the lives of these children.
The story of the orphanage began in 2006 in a one-room shack in Kibera, the largest slum in East Africa today. One day, Moraa’s youngest son, Emmanuel, brought home two playmates, siblings Mwadime and Mogoi, who eventually grew so attached to the family that they would follow Emmanuel home in the evening and refuse to leave.
Later, Moraa found out they were orphans – HIV-positive - whose parents had succumbed to AIDS. They were living with relatives who abused them. Touched by the plight of these two children, Moraa – herself a struggling 46-year old single mother of three children – decided to take them in.
As word got around in the slum that a mother was taking in unwanted children, people started dropping off their children at Moraa’s shack – permanently. Several children, whose parents were killed during the 2007 post-election violence in Kibera, also came to Moraa for help. In spite of her limited resources, she did not have the heart to turn them away.
Today, the Faraja Children’s Home, registered as a Community-Based Organization just the beginning of this year, provides a safe haven for 34 orphans and vulnerable children (OVCs), ranging from 2 – 13 years of age. 7 of them are HIV-positive.
The children’s stories are nothing short of tragic. One day, Moraa noticed one of the girls urinating blood. She told Moraa how years ago, a man would “touch” her every time she went to fetch water. Today, at a tender age of 10, this little girl not only suffers from vaginal injuries but also is HIV-positive.
Others were orphaned by HIV/AIDS, some abandoned by their parents/relatives, or rescued from abusive homes. One child’s parents – who made a living as thieves in the Kibera slum – were hacked to death by an angry mob.
Moraa, a humble, soft-spoken woman, has three children of her own. The eldest, 23 year-old Omari, is a final year civil engineering student at a local university who helps out around the orphanage during summer vacation. A budding social entrepreneur, Omari recently built a chicken farm behind the orphanage in order to generate income for the orphanage (more details later). Moraa’s younger children, Emmanuel (11?) and Esther (9?), treat the orphans as their own siblings. “Ma,” meaning “mother,” is what all the children at the orphanage call Moraa.
“This is when I feel happiest – when I see my children eating,” she beamed proudly a few days ago. Amazing what a difference one woman’s grace and compassion can make in the lives of these children.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Random
Taking a shower here is like rubbing ice cubes all over your body (*shivers*). FML.
The lower left ring of my braces is broken. I've been applying inordinate amounts of wax to it to keep the metal protrusion from poking a hole through my left cheek. 5 weeks to my next dental appointment. FML.
Found a nearby restaurant where I could indulge in my daily serving of meat (our hostel has been serving mostly vegetarian meals). Beef stew + fried eggs for USD2. MLIBlessed.
I don't like ugali (traditional maize dish, a Kenyan staple). MLIChoosy
Fresh fruit juice for USD0.50. MLIG.
My laptop (macbook pro) costs enough to buy fifteen cows to start a milk farm.
Safari this weekend. MLIG.
(Sorry for wasting your time)
The lower left ring of my braces is broken. I've been applying inordinate amounts of wax to it to keep the metal protrusion from poking a hole through my left cheek. 5 weeks to my next dental appointment. FML.
Found a nearby restaurant where I could indulge in my daily serving of meat (our hostel has been serving mostly vegetarian meals). Beef stew + fried eggs for USD2. MLIBlessed.
I don't like ugali (traditional maize dish, a Kenyan staple). MLIChoosy
Fresh fruit juice for USD0.50. MLIG.
My laptop (macbook pro) costs enough to buy fifteen cows to start a milk farm.
Safari this weekend. MLIG.
(Sorry for wasting your time)
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Exploitative Hospitality?
How do you tell if people are being nice to you out of genuine hospitality or because they are expecting something in return? Do these motivations blur into each other, so there is really no black and white?
A few days ago, the outreach team was at a supermarket to procure bags of maize flour as gifts for the homes we were going to visit. When it came time to pay, Nicholas (the director of Providence VCT) turned to me and Amy and gestured towards the cashier. I was taken aback at his directness (but did not show it of course). Though we readily paid for the gifts, which weren't expensive (1200 KSH ~ USD 15), we nevertheless felt uncomfortable because we were simply put on the spot (a no-no in the west). Moreover, no one thanked us, as if it was something expected of us anyway.
That wasn't the last time they'd be asking us for money. A day later, we received a letter asking for 40 000 shillings (ridiculous!) to sponsor a HIV/AIDS walk.
After talking to Naomi, our host mother, I was surprised to find out that Kinyua had not been taking us to the project assigned to us by the head office. We were supposed to be working for a different organization, not Providence VCT. Moreover, Naomi told us Kinyua had not attended the meeting in which coordinators were asked not to solicit donations from volunteers. What's been happening to us, Naomi called it "exploitation." She added that she suspected something fishy was going on from the start because "they" were being so nice to us.
In my view, the people we've been been working with probably have good intentions, and are not really to blame. Their mindset reflects a larger cultural tendency to automatically assume that every mzungu is loaded. In most Kenyans' eyes, we are walking ATM machines, literally.
Lol, if only they knew how many credit cards I have. They are barking up the wrong tree.
Truth be told, we haven't been very helpful thus far except to serve as "trophy visitors." During home visits, we would sit quietly in a corner while Veronicah and Judith conversed to the client in Swahili. We were told our presence was good enough and "highly appreciated," and that we'd learn by "observing." In retrospect, I wonder if the main point of these home visits was really to bombard/overwhelm us with scenes of poverty. What I call tugging at the heartstrings to loosen the purse strings. After all, we aren't certified to do HIV testing. Neither are we trained to provide counseling. How else to avail of us if not as financial support?
Yesterday, I made it clear to Kinyua that I wasn't here to throw money at a problem (yo dude, I really don't have money), but that I'd be happy to look at his project proposals and locate sources of funding for him.
In any case, I am going to work in the orphanage next week, so hopefully, I can put all this behind me for the rest of my time here in Kenya.
A few days ago, the outreach team was at a supermarket to procure bags of maize flour as gifts for the homes we were going to visit. When it came time to pay, Nicholas (the director of Providence VCT) turned to me and Amy and gestured towards the cashier. I was taken aback at his directness (but did not show it of course). Though we readily paid for the gifts, which weren't expensive (1200 KSH ~ USD 15), we nevertheless felt uncomfortable because we were simply put on the spot (a no-no in the west). Moreover, no one thanked us, as if it was something expected of us anyway.
That wasn't the last time they'd be asking us for money. A day later, we received a letter asking for 40 000 shillings (ridiculous!) to sponsor a HIV/AIDS walk.
After talking to Naomi, our host mother, I was surprised to find out that Kinyua had not been taking us to the project assigned to us by the head office. We were supposed to be working for a different organization, not Providence VCT. Moreover, Naomi told us Kinyua had not attended the meeting in which coordinators were asked not to solicit donations from volunteers. What's been happening to us, Naomi called it "exploitation." She added that she suspected something fishy was going on from the start because "they" were being so nice to us.
In my view, the people we've been been working with probably have good intentions, and are not really to blame. Their mindset reflects a larger cultural tendency to automatically assume that every mzungu is loaded. In most Kenyans' eyes, we are walking ATM machines, literally.
Lol, if only they knew how many credit cards I have. They are barking up the wrong tree.
Truth be told, we haven't been very helpful thus far except to serve as "trophy visitors." During home visits, we would sit quietly in a corner while Veronicah and Judith conversed to the client in Swahili. We were told our presence was good enough and "highly appreciated," and that we'd learn by "observing." In retrospect, I wonder if the main point of these home visits was really to bombard/overwhelm us with scenes of poverty. What I call tugging at the heartstrings to loosen the purse strings. After all, we aren't certified to do HIV testing. Neither are we trained to provide counseling. How else to avail of us if not as financial support?
Yesterday, I made it clear to Kinyua that I wasn't here to throw money at a problem (yo dude, I really don't have money), but that I'd be happy to look at his project proposals and locate sources of funding for him.
In any case, I am going to work in the orphanage next week, so hopefully, I can put all this behind me for the rest of my time here in Kenya.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)