When I leave someone's company here, my tendency is to say something about how I look forward to seeing them again. Without fail, the response I get is "God willing." For some, that response speaks to their belief that God controls all the minutiae of life and has a specific plan for our lives. For all, however, it is a recognition that life is precarious and illness, accidents or death can interrupt one's plans at any time. Kenyans tend to have fewer illusions than I do about being in control of life.
Therefore, when Project Director Joseph Okuya had a serious car accident a couple of days ago, requiring an emergency response from family and friends, I was not surprised to hear a lot of conversation about God's will. No one got caught up in trying to sort of the theological implications of such a conviction; again, it was simply a recognition that much of life is beyond our individual control and cannot be accounted for in human terms.
From the moment we got the first distress call from Joseph, a second refrain emerged: "Be strong." Over and over again, as word of the accident spread, people reassured one another with the words "We must be strong." Strong for Joseph, strong for his wife and family, strong for the other people involved in the accident, strong for one another. There was very little acknowledgment of our fears, our worries, our distress. Simply, be strong.
Both of these phrases have been so striking for me. In this place where there is daily evidence that one is not in control of life, the only response is to support one another to have as much inner strength as one can possibly muster.
Although a little worse for the wear right now, Joseph should make a complete recovery from the accident. Although his injuries are much more serious, the driver of the other vehicle also should recuperate eventually. And, as I prepare to leave for home in a couple of days, I tell people I am looking forward to seeing them again. God willing.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Friday, March 19, 2010
Please don't forget us...
Just when I think I have seen the worst of Kenyan roads, I travel another one that makes all others pale by comparison. In the same way, just when I think I have seen the worst living situations in our service area, I visit a new place which is even more desperate. Such was my experience today visiting Nametsa Primary School.
To get to Nametsa, one traverses steep, narrow roads that look like dry creek beds and crosses several streams, most with bridges but a couple without. 5-6 kilometers from the school, one abandons the car and sets out on foot "to the backside of the mountain" as I was told. At this point the real fun begins, as one climbs narrow, rocky footpaths (all in the equatorial sun no less). The children who trek to school each day usually do it barefoot; I, at least, had on fairly sturdy shoes. The women often take this route with bags of maize or other foodstuff on their heads; I did not have to maintain such erect posture. The men carry in all supplies for building or farm supplies on their backs; I had my hands free.
All I could think about while I made the trip was how did the people in this remote area access health care? When I asked my question of the Head Teacher, he told me that most choose not to try. Even if an ill or injured person manages the rough terrain, most do not have the few shillings required for a clinic visit. In fact, a 7th grade boy died last week because the family did not have the 15 shillings for his medication (approximately 20 cents).
In spite of an energetic principal, the people at Nametsa seem to be without hope inasmuch as they are without many visible resources. Since this was my first visit, it is difficult for me to sort out the causes of the bleak atmosphere: at some point, did the people give up trying to create a better life for themselves, or do they continue to try but are thwarted at every turn? Probably some combination of the two. In any case, the people of Nametsa are tired, sick and hungry.
I walked the school grounds, talking to guardians, teachers and students. I heard three things over and over: first, please understand how difficult life is in on this remote side of the mountain; second, please tell the people in Indiana how appreciative everyone is of the school lunch program; and finally, please don't forget us. The first two requests don't bother me -- I will try to understand and I will do all I can to convey the people's thanks. However, that last request haunted me all the way back to the car. What would it be like to live in such isolation and poverty? I think the fear of being forgotten would be very real.
To get to Nametsa, one traverses steep, narrow roads that look like dry creek beds and crosses several streams, most with bridges but a couple without. 5-6 kilometers from the school, one abandons the car and sets out on foot "to the backside of the mountain" as I was told. At this point the real fun begins, as one climbs narrow, rocky footpaths (all in the equatorial sun no less). The children who trek to school each day usually do it barefoot; I, at least, had on fairly sturdy shoes. The women often take this route with bags of maize or other foodstuff on their heads; I did not have to maintain such erect posture. The men carry in all supplies for building or farm supplies on their backs; I had my hands free.
All I could think about while I made the trip was how did the people in this remote area access health care? When I asked my question of the Head Teacher, he told me that most choose not to try. Even if an ill or injured person manages the rough terrain, most do not have the few shillings required for a clinic visit. In fact, a 7th grade boy died last week because the family did not have the 15 shillings for his medication (approximately 20 cents).
In spite of an energetic principal, the people at Nametsa seem to be without hope inasmuch as they are without many visible resources. Since this was my first visit, it is difficult for me to sort out the causes of the bleak atmosphere: at some point, did the people give up trying to create a better life for themselves, or do they continue to try but are thwarted at every turn? Probably some combination of the two. In any case, the people of Nametsa are tired, sick and hungry.
I walked the school grounds, talking to guardians, teachers and students. I heard three things over and over: first, please understand how difficult life is in on this remote side of the mountain; second, please tell the people in Indiana how appreciative everyone is of the school lunch program; and finally, please don't forget us. The first two requests don't bother me -- I will try to understand and I will do all I can to convey the people's thanks. However, that last request haunted me all the way back to the car. What would it be like to live in such isolation and poverty? I think the fear of being forgotten would be very real.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Grace and Winnie
Today was a great time visiting a wonderful friend, Grace Atero. Grace and I met in 2007 when the Project just had gotten underway and we had enrolled only 7 secondary school students (we are over 100 now). One of those 7 students was at Ogada Secondary School, where Grace served as the visionary and dynamic Principal. We quickly became friends, and I have visited with Grace every trip since. She is one of the Umoja Project's strongest local advocates, with a shared understanding of service and partnership. Sadly, in January Grace was involuntarily transferred to Mawego Girls School, quite a distance from Chulaimbo. The transition has not been easy for her, so it was important for Joseph and me to take the day to go visit her in her new surroundings.
Umoja Project Assistant Judith Winnie Amollo was with us for the day. Although a generation apart, Grace and Winnie actually have quite a bit in common -- both are passionate about finding ways to support and mentor girls to become full participants in their communities.
As a secondary school student, Winnie received tuition support from the Umoja Project her last two years, completing her final exams last November. In January she began a one-year contract as Project Assistant, a position offered to one of our graduates each year. Winnie is an inordinately bright young woman who succeeded in school against high odds. During her senior year alone, Winnie's sister died of complications from AIDS and her mother's illness has stopped responding to medications. Winnie has had to assume primary responsibility for her family, while also completing her schooling and beginning her first job. Nonetheless, she already is making a significant contribution to Umoja's work in the community.
Today, at Grace's school, Winnie had the opportunity to speak with several of the students. She eloquently told the girls about the difficulties she encountered in her own education and urged them to persevere just as she has had to persevere. She offered herself as a role model to these younger students, reminding them that if she could make it so could they. She talked with them about the importance of girls completing their education, setting high goals for themselves, and becoming strong members of their communities.
It really was quite an inspirational talk and I was moved to tears. We envision the Umoja Project having the potential to transform lives and women like Grace do everything they can to make that possible. Today, watching Winnie interact with the Mawego girls was an opportunity to see the impact that transformation can have long-term: as students like Winnie are given the support necessary to complete their education and fulfill their potential, they begin "paying back" by serving as inspirational role models for the students who follow.
Umoja Project Assistant Judith Winnie Amollo was with us for the day. Although a generation apart, Grace and Winnie actually have quite a bit in common -- both are passionate about finding ways to support and mentor girls to become full participants in their communities.
As a secondary school student, Winnie received tuition support from the Umoja Project her last two years, completing her final exams last November. In January she began a one-year contract as Project Assistant, a position offered to one of our graduates each year. Winnie is an inordinately bright young woman who succeeded in school against high odds. During her senior year alone, Winnie's sister died of complications from AIDS and her mother's illness has stopped responding to medications. Winnie has had to assume primary responsibility for her family, while also completing her schooling and beginning her first job. Nonetheless, she already is making a significant contribution to Umoja's work in the community.
Today, at Grace's school, Winnie had the opportunity to speak with several of the students. She eloquently told the girls about the difficulties she encountered in her own education and urged them to persevere just as she has had to persevere. She offered herself as a role model to these younger students, reminding them that if she could make it so could they. She talked with them about the importance of girls completing their education, setting high goals for themselves, and becoming strong members of their communities.
It really was quite an inspirational talk and I was moved to tears. We envision the Umoja Project having the potential to transform lives and women like Grace do everything they can to make that possible. Today, watching Winnie interact with the Mawego girls was an opportunity to see the impact that transformation can have long-term: as students like Winnie are given the support necessary to complete their education and fulfill their potential, they begin "paying back" by serving as inspirational role models for the students who follow.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Listening
The last couple of days have been a time simply to listen. First, I visited 5 secondary schools to listen to the Head Teachers talk about the problems girls encounter trying to complete their secondary education. Most schools start their lessons by 6:15 in the morning and don't dismiss until 12 hours later. The long hours, compounded by the long distances walked from home to school, mean that girls are walking in the dark, risking their safety every day. I listened, while the school administrators expressed their concern for these young girls and their hope that Umoja will find a away to allow more of the girls to enroll in boarding schools, although it is a much more expensive option than day school.
Then, a meeting with 9 young people who have their secondary school certificates but have not been able to continue school or find regular employment. I listened, while these young adults told me their individual stories, hoping that together we would hear common issues and discern possible solutions.
Finally, a meeting with the Head Teachers of the 15 primary schools with which Umoja Project partners. I listened as they talked about their struggles to balance all of the competing needs they must confront daily. Listened to their frustrations about working with very limited resources. Listened to their ideas about how the schools could work together more effectively.
Often, when folks from home talk about coming to see the Project, they want to come and DO something. It's a natural enough impulse, given the deep needs so many people have here. However, the last few days have shown me once again that most of the answers are already here; often, what is needed most is a listening ear, a few questions or small suggestions, and a commitment to help find necessary resources. Listening may not satisfy a need to solve problems immediately, but it does seem to be the basis for strong partnerships.
Then, a meeting with 9 young people who have their secondary school certificates but have not been able to continue school or find regular employment. I listened, while these young adults told me their individual stories, hoping that together we would hear common issues and discern possible solutions.
Finally, a meeting with the Head Teachers of the 15 primary schools with which Umoja Project partners. I listened as they talked about their struggles to balance all of the competing needs they must confront daily. Listened to their frustrations about working with very limited resources. Listened to their ideas about how the schools could work together more effectively.
Often, when folks from home talk about coming to see the Project, they want to come and DO something. It's a natural enough impulse, given the deep needs so many people have here. However, the last few days have shown me once again that most of the answers are already here; often, what is needed most is a listening ear, a few questions or small suggestions, and a commitment to help find necessary resources. Listening may not satisfy a need to solve problems immediately, but it does seem to be the basis for strong partnerships.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Erokamano
My command of the Dhluo language is limited to a few essential words, including "erokamano" which means "thank you." I love listening to people's prayers because I hear "erokamano" said so frequently I feel I actually understand almost all of the prayer.
Yesterday was no different as I went on home visits with some of the Hope Women's Group to deliver our greetings and a small supply of food to 8 elderly grandmothers. Except in the case of one grandma who was too ill to speak, all of the elderly women wanted to offer us a prayer before we departed. Erokamano... Erokamano... Erokamano.
For the most part, these grandmothers have nothing, making their prayers of gratitude all the more poignant. Almost all are too frail to work for others and some were too sick to work their own gardens. In every case but one, several orphaned grandchildren live with them. Just to give you an idea, here are a few of the notes I took along the way:
Susana, 80 years old. Lives with 5 grandchildren and ill daughter-in-law. One granddaughter profoundly disabled. School-aged children attend Marera Primary and receive school lunch and other support through Umoja.
Serefina, 67 years old. Lives with 4 total orphans (both parents deceased). Works when she can for food. Has one surviving daughter-in-law, who has no home so sleeps at Serefina's house. Children attend Marera Primary and receive school lunch.
Helida, 78 years old. Lives with 4 total orphans. Co-wife lives on compound with 5 total orphans. Home is dilapidated and wet when it rains. Children all home sick. When well, they attend Marera Primary and receive school lunch and other support through Umoja.
Pauline, 80 years old. Found her sitting in the sun by her garden, unable to move. Couldn't speak much other than to say she hadn't eaten in a long time. Desperately ate a cracker handed to her. Lives with one grandchild who attends Marera Primary. Child gets school lunch but goes to school hungry each day.
Rosebella, 76 years old. Stays with 9 grandchildren. No source of income. One child attended Marera Primary, but had been sent home from school because couldn't pay fees associated with testing.
Hearing story after story was exhausting, but what a great opportunity for me to better understand family issues which affect the children we serve. And how humbling it was to hear these stories of poverty and loss, and then stand with the grandmothers and lift up prayers of thanksgiving. Erokamano.
Yesterday was no different as I went on home visits with some of the Hope Women's Group to deliver our greetings and a small supply of food to 8 elderly grandmothers. Except in the case of one grandma who was too ill to speak, all of the elderly women wanted to offer us a prayer before we departed. Erokamano... Erokamano... Erokamano.
For the most part, these grandmothers have nothing, making their prayers of gratitude all the more poignant. Almost all are too frail to work for others and some were too sick to work their own gardens. In every case but one, several orphaned grandchildren live with them. Just to give you an idea, here are a few of the notes I took along the way:
Susana, 80 years old. Lives with 5 grandchildren and ill daughter-in-law. One granddaughter profoundly disabled. School-aged children attend Marera Primary and receive school lunch and other support through Umoja.
Serefina, 67 years old. Lives with 4 total orphans (both parents deceased). Works when she can for food. Has one surviving daughter-in-law, who has no home so sleeps at Serefina's house. Children attend Marera Primary and receive school lunch.
Helida, 78 years old. Lives with 4 total orphans. Co-wife lives on compound with 5 total orphans. Home is dilapidated and wet when it rains. Children all home sick. When well, they attend Marera Primary and receive school lunch and other support through Umoja.
Pauline, 80 years old. Found her sitting in the sun by her garden, unable to move. Couldn't speak much other than to say she hadn't eaten in a long time. Desperately ate a cracker handed to her. Lives with one grandchild who attends Marera Primary. Child gets school lunch but goes to school hungry each day.
Rosebella, 76 years old. Stays with 9 grandchildren. No source of income. One child attended Marera Primary, but had been sent home from school because couldn't pay fees associated with testing.
Hearing story after story was exhausting, but what a great opportunity for me to better understand family issues which affect the children we serve. And how humbling it was to hear these stories of poverty and loss, and then stand with the grandmothers and lift up prayers of thanksgiving. Erokamano.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Meshak
Over the weekend, my assignment was to visit 5 different congregations and an interfaith prayer service, bringing greetings from Indiana and sharing a bit about the Umoja Project. Much of the time I was accompanied by a group of five young adults, 18-22 years of age, who are part of the assortment of people who gather at Margaret’s house. Maurine, Perez, Criss, Timothy and Meshak all finished secondary school, but none has been able to find steady employment or raise the money necessary to continue their education. Unfortunately, they are only a minute fraction of the young Kenyans with this problem. Except for the very top students who are given government scholarships to go to the university, the post-secondary prospects are dim for a student who lives in poverty.
I’m not sure what prompted the five of them to move from one worship service to another with me. In part, hanging out with the white American simply may have been the best distraction the day offered. However, I have the feeling that these young people also were drawn to hear more about a project which draws in people from many different congregations, schools and other organizations. Although they might not articulate it this way, I think my five young friends recognize that the complex problems they face will not be solved by people working in isolation.
We had lots of time to talk as we moved from place to place. Meshak told me his father died when he was an infant and his mother struggled to raise the six children on her own. Then, when Meshak was a sophomore (Form II) in secondary school, his mother died. Meshak has lived independently ever since, as his older siblings have moved away to get married or find employment. Only one uncle remains, but he is ill.
When I asked Meshak what kind of work he would like to do most, the others laughed and told me that Meshak wanted to be a politician. Indeed Meshak does have a passion for working in government, with a vision for a parliament that truly responds to the needs of the people. His chief concern is for people like himself, who, without any good prospects for the future, turn to drugs, alcohol and crime. He knows too well all the ways a person can be tempted to escape circumstances that seem futile.
Meshak believes his dream of being a politician is completely out of reach; instead, it is more realistic for him to get a certificate in social work and counseling. He estimates he needs about $1000 for the courses and exams; so far he has saved $65. Without outside help, it will take unusual perseverance for him to be able to hang on to his goal for as long as it will take to raise the remaining money.
As the number of Umoja graduates increases, we are challenged to wrestle with problems like Meshak’s. Later in the week I will meet with our 6 Umoja graduates to learn from them first-hand about the challenges they now face. As one person put it to me so bluntly, we have made an investment in our secondary school students and, unless we address post-secondary needs, we risk getting much return on that investment.
I’m not sure what prompted the five of them to move from one worship service to another with me. In part, hanging out with the white American simply may have been the best distraction the day offered. However, I have the feeling that these young people also were drawn to hear more about a project which draws in people from many different congregations, schools and other organizations. Although they might not articulate it this way, I think my five young friends recognize that the complex problems they face will not be solved by people working in isolation.
We had lots of time to talk as we moved from place to place. Meshak told me his father died when he was an infant and his mother struggled to raise the six children on her own. Then, when Meshak was a sophomore (Form II) in secondary school, his mother died. Meshak has lived independently ever since, as his older siblings have moved away to get married or find employment. Only one uncle remains, but he is ill.
When I asked Meshak what kind of work he would like to do most, the others laughed and told me that Meshak wanted to be a politician. Indeed Meshak does have a passion for working in government, with a vision for a parliament that truly responds to the needs of the people. His chief concern is for people like himself, who, without any good prospects for the future, turn to drugs, alcohol and crime. He knows too well all the ways a person can be tempted to escape circumstances that seem futile.
Meshak believes his dream of being a politician is completely out of reach; instead, it is more realistic for him to get a certificate in social work and counseling. He estimates he needs about $1000 for the courses and exams; so far he has saved $65. Without outside help, it will take unusual perseverance for him to be able to hang on to his goal for as long as it will take to raise the remaining money.
As the number of Umoja graduates increases, we are challenged to wrestle with problems like Meshak’s. Later in the week I will meet with our 6 Umoja graduates to learn from them first-hand about the challenges they now face. As one person put it to me so bluntly, we have made an investment in our secondary school students and, unless we address post-secondary needs, we risk getting much return on that investment.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Hope Women's Group
I doubt many of the women of Hope Women's Group were aware that last Monday was International Women's Day, a day to celebrate the economic, political and social achievements of women around the globe. If they knew, I have no idea what they would think about such a day --I can imagine they might wonder how anyone has the time to celebrate when there is so much work to be done! However, for me, this group embodies both the accomplishments and challenges that International Women's Day is designed to recognize.
Hope Women is an ecumenical group of 30 women who have taken it upon themselves to support the many orphans in their "neighborhood." Most are widows themselves, many are HIV+, and almost all are part of the hand-to-mouth economy which dominates this area. These women have difficult lives, but, as their name suggests, they are not without hope. And they intend to do whatever they can to strengthen their community by supporting its children. Weekly, they gather to identify households in need and create their own small-scale intervention plan: home visits, emergency food delivery, school supplies, and social activities to give the children a sense of family. Everything is paid for out of their own pockets, with each woman contributing as much as she can as often as she can.
Margaret Owero, founder of Hope Women's Group, has hosted me in her home the last couple of days. An amazing woman! Her home is the meeting place for much of the community, so I have been able to have many interesting conversations with lots of different people. My reason for coming here is to learn ways in which a program like Umoja can collaborate with and support groups like Hope Women. While Umoja has more resources for providing things like the school lunch program or school tuitions, these women are the ones providing day-to-day support for the children.
I am so impressed by what I witness here. It would not be at all unreasonable for these women to focus all of their attention on their own survival. Instead, they are putting a significant portion of their time and resources into helping the children, believing strongly that the future of their community depends upon them doing so. A great way for me to celebrate International Women's Day!
Hope Women is an ecumenical group of 30 women who have taken it upon themselves to support the many orphans in their "neighborhood." Most are widows themselves, many are HIV+, and almost all are part of the hand-to-mouth economy which dominates this area. These women have difficult lives, but, as their name suggests, they are not without hope. And they intend to do whatever they can to strengthen their community by supporting its children. Weekly, they gather to identify households in need and create their own small-scale intervention plan: home visits, emergency food delivery, school supplies, and social activities to give the children a sense of family. Everything is paid for out of their own pockets, with each woman contributing as much as she can as often as she can.
Margaret Owero, founder of Hope Women's Group, has hosted me in her home the last couple of days. An amazing woman! Her home is the meeting place for much of the community, so I have been able to have many interesting conversations with lots of different people. My reason for coming here is to learn ways in which a program like Umoja can collaborate with and support groups like Hope Women. While Umoja has more resources for providing things like the school lunch program or school tuitions, these women are the ones providing day-to-day support for the children.
I am so impressed by what I witness here. It would not be at all unreasonable for these women to focus all of their attention on their own survival. Instead, they are putting a significant portion of their time and resources into helping the children, believing strongly that the future of their community depends upon them doing so. A great way for me to celebrate International Women's Day!
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Letters from Bar Andingo
Of the 15 primary schools with which the Umoja Project works, Bar Andingo is one of the most involved. Since 2003, when free primary school education took effect in Kenya, the enrollment of the school has doubled as children from poorer homes entered school for the first time. Bar Andingo has struggled to absorb the influx of students -- average class size is 80 students and basic resources like pens, paper and textbooks are often lacking.
Yesterday I visited Bar Andingo in time to be with the children when they had their lunch. The guardians who prepare the meal were eager for me to see the fuel-efficient stoves recently built with funds provided by the Second Presbyterian Women. The new stoves will reduce fuel consumption by 75%. Just as important, the guardians no longer will work every day inhaling the smoke of the open fire.
When I make visits like this one, I hear story after story about children who are benefiting from the school lunch. Yesterday I asked if it would be possible for a couple of children to put their stories in writing so people in Indiana could hear directly from the children. At least 30 students volunteered, missing their time on the playground in order to correspond with the people of Indiana. It is humbling to receive this stack of letters, as child after child pours out their appreciation for such basic things as food, blankets and sanitary towels for the girls. Here are excerpts from a few of the letters:
“My name is Maruice from Bar Andingo Primary School. I am in Standard 8… I am a child who lost both my mother and father. In my life, Umoja Project has helped me in my problems…When the Project started in our school we were in high spirits when we heard that the pupils who have lost their parents would be helped. I would like the Project to go on. I would like to know your name and the place you come from. I wish you the best.”
"My name is Judith. I am in Class 7. Me, I would like to thank you very much, because you've served many orphans who were in trouble about their lives. The first thing that I would like to thank you for is the lunch program. The reason why I say that is some orphans live with their grandmothers and sometimes that grandmother doesn't have any work for them to do and can't give us food. Even if I go home for lunch I may only have otalo and water. If you don't know otalo, otalo is only maize which is not put together with beans.”
“I am Winnie from Bar Andingo Primary School. I am in Class 8. I am 15 years old… thank you for the sanitary towels you have provided us girls. Most of the girls in our schools just decide to drop out school but now we still have hat hope of going to school without any problem. Because in past some girls when they have got that problem they cannot go to school as usual.”
“I am Lorite. I am in Standard Seven at Bar Andingo Primary School…If you come to our school you will realize that there is a great change since Umoja was introduced…We are yours, and you are ours. So if you can please, don’t stop helping us. If you stop, we will nowhere to be seen.”
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Monica's goats
Just before I left home, the young children of our church announced their annual fundraiser for Heifer International, once again challenging the congregation to meet an ambitious goal of raising enough money to purchase several Arks of goats, pigs, sheep, llama, etc. Therefore, it was a special pleasure for me to spend the day with Dr. Vincent Oloo, a veterinarian who works with community groups to implement Heifer's livestock projects. We visited three homes to meet families participating in Heifer's programs and heard three powerful stories of how receiving a goat or a cow had provided both economic security and personal well-being.
When I asked Monica how her goat had provided for her family, she gestured with a sweep of her arm to the new home and kitchen which stood on the compound. When her house burned down last year, she had enough savings to build this new home, replacing the old home's thatched roof with a much safer and durable tin roof. Prior to receiving her doe a couple of years ago, Monica worked in other people's gardens, sunup to sundown, earning 50 shillings per day (about 65 cents) for a total annual income less than $200. Now Monica earns about $2.50 per day just by selling the goat milk her family doesn't consume. In addition, she is able to sell the kid goats -- 3 each year -- for about $200 apiece. She estimates her annual income is now about $1500. She's not wealthy, but she is more secure and, as importantly, more confident that her family can survive whatever challenges they face.
Dr. Oloo is very interested in working with Umoja Project guardians. Our hope is that we can find a creative way in which livestock projects, such as Monica's goats, can support individual households as well as our school lunch programs. It certainly was an inspiring day, making me appreciate all the more the efforts of our congregation's children to raise money for those Arks!
When I asked Monica how her goat had provided for her family, she gestured with a sweep of her arm to the new home and kitchen which stood on the compound. When her house burned down last year, she had enough savings to build this new home, replacing the old home's thatched roof with a much safer and durable tin roof. Prior to receiving her doe a couple of years ago, Monica worked in other people's gardens, sunup to sundown, earning 50 shillings per day (about 65 cents) for a total annual income less than $200. Now Monica earns about $2.50 per day just by selling the goat milk her family doesn't consume. In addition, she is able to sell the kid goats -- 3 each year -- for about $200 apiece. She estimates her annual income is now about $1500. She's not wealthy, but she is more secure and, as importantly, more confident that her family can survive whatever challenges they face.
Dr. Oloo is very interested in working with Umoja Project guardians. Our hope is that we can find a creative way in which livestock projects, such as Monica's goats, can support individual households as well as our school lunch programs. It certainly was an inspiring day, making me appreciate all the more the efforts of our congregation's children to raise money for those Arks!
Monday, March 8, 2010
Dinner with Philip
As I write, I am safely tucked into "my room" at the St. Anna's Guest House in Kisumu. I've made my preference for the little single room in the 4-room house at the back of the property so well known that Regina and Moses, the desk staff, know to hold that space for me when I come. It's nice to have a home-away-from-home and it's nice that they cater to my idiosyncrasies!
When I arrived at the Kisumu airport late this afternoon, Philip Owegi was there to greet me. Philip is the Head Catechist for a Legio Maria congregation, a regional religious group that, in my observation, appears to be a blend of Roman Catholic structure and traditional African religious practices. Mention Legio Maria to a Kenyan and you almost certainly will get a snicker and roll of the eyes in response -- as a group, Legio Maria is the clear outsider among the many Christian denominations found here. I don't know the exact reasons for the lack of respect --although their unorthodox beliefs, colorful practices and extreme poverty probably all are contributing factors. So, it is no small accomplishment for Philip and Legio Maria to be part of the partnership of congregations here -- everyone is to be commended for their efforts to overcome boundaries.
I met Philip on my first trip to Chulaimbo in 2006 and he immediately caught my attention. I visited him at his church and it was obvious the community has very limited resources. There were lots of people milling around the compound; I found out later that these were destitute members of the church who had no other place to live so the church had taken them in. When we asked Philip about the needs of the children, he simply said, "You can see we have very little. However, our faith requires us to respond to the needs of the orphans and widows, so we do whatever we can." As we ate dinner together tonight, he reiterated, "How can I say I love God if I just talk about caring for the children but don't actually do something?" He went on to outline his ideas for how we foster long-lasting change and cultivate hope in the lives of the young people we've come to know through Umoja.
As he talked, I listened and marveled at Philip's courage, resilience, and vision. His ideas aren't so different from many others, but the fact that he feels welcomed enough to share them is remarkable. What a great first evening!
When I arrived at the Kisumu airport late this afternoon, Philip Owegi was there to greet me. Philip is the Head Catechist for a Legio Maria congregation, a regional religious group that, in my observation, appears to be a blend of Roman Catholic structure and traditional African religious practices. Mention Legio Maria to a Kenyan and you almost certainly will get a snicker and roll of the eyes in response -- as a group, Legio Maria is the clear outsider among the many Christian denominations found here. I don't know the exact reasons for the lack of respect --although their unorthodox beliefs, colorful practices and extreme poverty probably all are contributing factors. So, it is no small accomplishment for Philip and Legio Maria to be part of the partnership of congregations here -- everyone is to be commended for their efforts to overcome boundaries.
I met Philip on my first trip to Chulaimbo in 2006 and he immediately caught my attention. I visited him at his church and it was obvious the community has very limited resources. There were lots of people milling around the compound; I found out later that these were destitute members of the church who had no other place to live so the church had taken them in. When we asked Philip about the needs of the children, he simply said, "You can see we have very little. However, our faith requires us to respond to the needs of the orphans and widows, so we do whatever we can." As we ate dinner together tonight, he reiterated, "How can I say I love God if I just talk about caring for the children but don't actually do something?" He went on to outline his ideas for how we foster long-lasting change and cultivate hope in the lives of the young people we've come to know through Umoja.
As he talked, I listened and marveled at Philip's courage, resilience, and vision. His ideas aren't so different from many others, but the fact that he feels welcomed enough to share them is remarkable. What a great first evening!
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