home agian, home again, jiggity-jig

As we leave for home our bags are packed with beads and wood carvings, the laptop is bursting with images to help us remember and tell our stories, and our minds hold both memories of what has been and resolve for what could be. Quotes like 'this is the best day of my life', 'can we have a Fanta', and 'there's another casserole' (an attempt at Anna finding the correct word for carcass while on safari) conjure memories as vivid and colorful as the best of our photos and we are so grateful for having shared this adventure as a family.
The richest of what we take home with us is not particular 'African' or brought about by any one encounter or experience. It was found in the bright morning air of the safari, on the rattling clatter of the ancient train and in the dappled afternoon light beneath the canopy of trees. What we most deeply valued and had the clarity to perceive while away together was the extraordinary gift of being together.
This way of being is what we most want to both remember and give ourselves to as we come back to all that is familiar to us. We are discovering that routines, familiarity and our tendency to be just way too into ourselves, often cause us to miss the wealth that we have in being together. So while I know we will mess up more than we will succeed, we want to take what we discovered, or at least were reminded of in Africa, and live it out here with our family, friends, work and church community. In this, we are anticipating coming home with the same fervor we had in leaving it two month ago. See you soon.

Going home...

-Written by Mollie

To nit we or goen back to canada on a plan at mid nit. we have to sta up from kenya. I am sad. I am goen to mes my Grampa and Grama. I am goen to mis Kenya a lot. It is goen to be fun on the ar plan. My two best things a bet Africa is the amivos and the pool.

-Written by Noah

Favorite Experiences
On this trip to Kenya, we had a lot of good experiences and a lot of hard times. My favorite experience was our Safari. We got to see many kinds of animals such as lions, rhinos, elephants, and a leopard! One of my hardest times was when we went tot he Embakasi Slum. I have never seen anyone so poor. We also had quite a few scary experiences too. One in particular scared us a lot. It was when we were coming back from Embakasi slum. Three men had got in the back of a big truck and threw a huge piece of metal out of the truck. Grandpa said they were going to steal it and sell it to someone, but they were caught red handed by the driver who came out with a sling shot! The piece of metal was too heavy to carry so they dropped it and ran! I can remember some funny times too. We were going to the Maasai Market. We all got into a matatu. Then the toute said we had to pay another 60 shillings. Dad said 'no' and we all got out. We flagged down another Matatu and we actually got to the Maasai Market.

-written by Anna
My favorite part of Africa
My favorite part of Africa is the safari with the animals. I'm glad I'm going home. I don't like Kenya as much as Canada. All I like is swimming pools, beach and suntanning. At the guest house, I like the big swing and tea time. What I don't like about Kenya is the driving. I am feeling happy about going home. So that is why I want to go home.

The Children

Yesterday we had the opportunity to visit two of the Nairobi slums. Embakasi, which we had visited at the beginning of our trip, and Mathare North. We didn't have to drive far into Mathare North before we arrived at Menno Kids Academy, a primary school with 341 students age 3 to grade 8. Things were pretty much under control when we arrived as classes were in session. Then tea time came (recess) and... chaos :). Caucasian adults visitors aren't that unusual but white children, they are a novelty. We handed out the soccer balls and skipping ropes and the students all played for a while but then the temptation to touch blond hair and white skin became too much. Mollie and Anna tried to find 'space' under my arms while I entertained the students by showing them their pictures on my camera. We definitely saw needs as up to six students share one text book in mud floor classrooms but we also saw a passion for learning from students and teachers who love what they do, though I am sure they were thankful when we left so they could bring some order back to their day.
In Embakasi we visited the Makuru Mennonite Academy. This is where two permanent classrooms had been built in December for Class 3 and 4. We arrived during lunch and this time, Kev and I were more prepared. We handed out some more balls and skipping ropes and then, as my parents were in a meeting, Kevin and I taught the students songs like The Itsy Bitsy Spider, The Hokey Pokey, and Head and Shoulders. When that became old, they discovered Kevin's arm hair and 'black' skin (tattoos). It was heartening to see inquisitive and energetic kids who live in such poverty have the opportunity for one good meal a day and an education.

Walking on Water

The 'just 3 kilometers' off the main road was surly the optimism of the young Kenyans who had met us at the petrol station, our guides to another of the projects that the organisation Dana's parents work for are involved in. We pulled out past the multi-colored buses and those hawking peanuts or cabbage (and a multitude of other 'fast food' one might consider taking on a road trip), leaving the broken asphalt for the deep red roads found no where on the Kenyan map.
This long (actually 18.8 kilometers by the odometer) and winding road, that at times could not be called a respectable rabbit trail, took us deep into the bush, passing small villages and a multitude of beautiful waving children to our destination, a sand dam.
When we hoped out of the vehicle our guides reminded us to lock our doors. While we have become accustom to the heightened security measures of Nairobi's urban jungle, we were perplexed as to why, here in the middle of God's country, we were rolling up windows and locking doors. Baboons... perhaps most of these primates look innocent, but those familiar with the ways of the wild insist precaution is best, even if a troop's intent might be curiosity over malice.
Anyway, having secured our belongings, we went down to the river were we came upon a concrete wall clinging to each bank and spanning across the channel that the seasonal rains had cut away, an ancient watercourse that rarely holds water during the dry season. That is of coarse, before the community initiated project built the approximately 100 meter wide and 4 meter high dam. These projects, dreamt up and designed by Kenyans have been popping up throughout a number of the seasonal waterways, with a local community utilizing international funds to create a long term, sustainable source of filtered water throughout even the fiercest of droughts (namely the one Kenyans are just now celebrating the end of).
The dams work by slowing the torrents of seasonal rain, and more specifically the eroded sand they carry with them, causing the dam to fill with water saturated sand. The sand acts as a filter and a means to retain water, slowing evaporation by the sun's jealous rays. This causes the dams to look as though they are holding back a vast table of sand, and if walking on it one might not suspect they hold many thousand gallons of water the surrounding community can use for drinking, irrigation and livestock. People access this precious commodity with a shovel and a bucket... think about the last time you have been digging at the beach and come upon the water table... only less salty.
In the dry season they become and oasis, with the land adjacent to the riverbed showing a green blush of life and vitality that would give any farmer cause for hope. Oh, if you're interested in purchasing a little plot of agricultural paradise you can pick it up at $300 an acre. Tempting, though the commute would be daunting.

From our point of view...

-written by Mollie

My Dad said that ther was a swim up bar to get Fantas but ther was not a swim up bar. But in the pool ther was a lilut pool and a big pool and a rivr. I saw a geco in the pool. Noah pict up the geco and put it on a rock. The ants cam and eat the geco. It was fun. In the pool I can swim all the way a cros the pool.

-written by Anna
We are at Mwembe resort in Malindi! In the resort there is a pool and waiters and FANTA! This is my kind of life. We can go to the private beach and eat real chips! Me, Noah and Mollie made coconut drinks! with sea water in it. I touched the Indian Ocean! It was so nice and warm. My grandma and Mom got beach chairs but I didn't because it cost 300 shillings each day. We are eating Italian food like pizza and spaghetti. African eating for me is chapattis. My favourite fruit is pineapple. At the resort there is mango trees but I don't like mangos. Mangos just drop on the ground here. We went on a tuk tuk. a tuk tuk is a taxi with three wheels! We were really squished. I loved that day!

Six Hour Wait -written by Noah

Dad and I got to Malindi on a train. Once we got to the station, we waited and watched until our train finally arrived. We had to wait a few minutes before we could get on. Once we got to our compartment, we sat down on the couch. There was a fold out bed with a bed-rail made of seat belt material. I read to dad for 1 hour. Then we sat and talked for what felt like a really long time. a few hours later they called us to dinner. We sat by a lady who did NOT like Americans. She had a mental disability because she was mumbling things like 'I'm going to chuck my food at you' and stuff like that. She asked if she could move and hallelujah she did. The rest of dinner was a tension filled wait. After dinner we rushed back to our compartment, but no sleep for me. It was the longest night I ever had! When we woke up we brushed our teeth and went to breakfast. We had to jusmp off at a little town called Mariakani where the family picked us up. It was a long ride but we got there safely.

Uneasy ease...

Freckles are starting to emerge out of nowhere, and the sun kissed sensation prickles with delight from the whitest of our winter skins. Brine and sun lotion are with us as an ever present confirmation of this glorious place. The tang of fresh picked pineapple and the sound of laughter and splashing bleeding into each other are sensations that will shape our memories.
But we have also observed that not all is paradise in paradise. A couple of days ago we went to the resort's 'private beach'... we should have seen it coming. We drove up and hopped out into the baby-bottom soft sand, into a tourists 'bliss', or not so much.
We first came across large men sprawled out on beds with young women massaging their every need... and for only 600 shillings. Heading down to have to kids dip their innocent feet into the vast warmth of the Indian ocean, we passed women literally sun baked beyond recognition, waiting for young local men to ferry cold drinks to soothe their scorched skin... drinks that cost more then they will earn in a day. There to, were the 'beach boys', local entrepreneurs, ready to sell you whatever your wealth can buy...
At the sea's liquid edge we marvelled with our children at it's bath like warmth while also needing to provide some explanation for the local women plying their beauty and youth, that seemed deeply juxtaposed to the burnt-out red, tired bodies of the men they clung to.
So while we walked down to the corridor of white sand and floated on our backs with seaweed tickling our feet I had to wrestle with my role in this teetering, unbalanced economy, where we come and take what we can afford while those that call this home might be giving more then they should have to afford. We will hold this uneasy tension and also take it as a memory that tells a more complete story.

Tuk tuk

I thought I needed to document the fact that I indeed do use a form of public transportation... the tuk tuk should seat 3 but fit the 5 of us just fine. Definitely better than walking the streets in this heat.

As Kevin said, we are in Malindi and enjoying the relaxing ocean-side environment. The resort is 2 km from the ocean but has a beautiful pool the kids enjoy playing in. It is a different resort than we have ever stayed in though demonstrated by the sign by the pool that says 'organized ball play or any self-organized play prohibited'. It has been a pretty quiet week here though so the kids 'play' hasn't been hampered yet :) Malindi is a town that has been greatly infuenced by Italy so we have had some fabulous pizza and pasta dinners. The waiters and attendents speak better Italian than they do English! The kids have had their first swim in the Indian ocean but say they prefer the pool due to the high winds, flying sand and presence of the 'persistant' beach boys. our experience has been so different than is was two years ago and I am looking forward to touring Malindi today... all reports being that Malindi is much safer than Nairobi. I love reports like that... no worries about driving at night :)

choo choo

We have recently 'relocated' to Malindi, a beautiful, antiquated coastal town, different in architecture, culture, landscape, climate and pace then we have had the opportunity to experience thus far. Resting at the edge of the Indian Ocean, the town is bound by a ample strip of white sand and an east wind that pushes it back from the sea's edge. We arrived late yesterday afternoon, hit by the 32 degree heat and sunshine that has been largely hidden by the much prayed for and celebrated rain clouds in the Nairobi region for the past couple of weeks. My parents have generously given us a week's time share with huge mango trees providing a seemingly endless amount of fruity goodness and a huge pool, providing seemly endless hours of entertainment for our kids (and us). But, Dana can write more on that later... I want to write about how it is that we came to this place, and more specifically how it is Noah and I came to this place.
Two years ago when we were here, the post election violence resulted in our family being unable to experience the much anticipated (by some) overnight train from Nairobi to Mombassa, through the Tsavo park. So, Noah and I decided to seize the opportunity to fulfill a dream and ride these ancient rails.
After boarding the train at 6 PM we settled into our berth and awaited our 7 PM departure. 7, 8, 9, and 10 PM came and went with nary a lurch or whistle blowing, and while Noah and I are generally able to sustain our excitement and practice the patience of delayed gratification our faith was beginning to wane by the time our trip lurched into motion at about 10:30 PM. Our on board meal was filled with adventure of it's own as we were seated across from a British women who became increasingly agitated, muttering to herself after we had tried to exchange pleasantries, about how much she despised 'Americans'. Noah and I, uncertain if we were the cause of her distress and increasingly erratic behaviour, chose to make the best of it, though it quickly became apparent that her hostility was indeed directed at us! The escalating crisis was thankfully averted when the women asked to be seated elsewhere, informing us before she left that had she been forced to stay seated with us she would have responded by throwing her food at us. Noah, wide eyed and not a little distressed, was thankful that our interaction had ended without any flying chicken and rice, while I was sorry we weren't more obviously 'Canadian'.
After eating a 3rd class meal in a first class dining car Noah and I settled into our beds, happy with the prospect of being lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of our 1963 train car rattling it's way to the coast. Just before stumbling into the sleep of the satiated adventurer we slowed to an 'unscheduled stop' for another 2-3 hour delay. We took this in stride... (while remaining prone in our beds) and woke the next morning delighted to find ourselves in motion, albeit 6 hours behind schedule (due to multiple engine problems and a train derailment!(not us, but the train in front of us).
It was a happy mishap for the two of us, who now were able to take in the stunning countryside, and welcoming children at every station in daylight. We also had the opportunity to share a number of conversations every boy and his dad should have, but I will let Noah share more on that if he chooses...
Needless to say, the girls, and Dana's parents, who had left via the jeep the morning after we had begun our 18 hour epic, actually beat us to the coast and intercepted us in a little one mule town, making us likely the only muzungu's to have ever disembarked at the little train station since colonialism. After a little 'reunion celebration' with the girls we were spirited away in a much more efficient, though somewhat less character filled mode of transportation... destination, sunshine and palms.

The train and car trip

-written by Mollie (translated by her mom)

to nuyt my bruthr and my dad is goen on a tchran i bet that tha or goen to hav lots of fun we or n0t goen on a tchran we or goen in the car i bet we or gena hav lots of fun my sistr is cumen my mom is cumen my grampa is cumen my grama is cumen it is goen to be fun we or goen to Mombasa.i am look en frd to the swimen pool .
(Tonight my brother and my dad are going on a train. I bet that they are going to have lots of fun. We are not going on a train. We are going in the car. I bet we are going to have lots of fun. My sister is coming, my mom is coming, my grandpa is coming, my grandma is coming. It is going to be fun. We are going to Mombasa. I am looking forward to the swimming pool.)

Travelling to Hope

In the past couple of days we have had the opportunity to connect with two women who have had the vision, compassion, savvy and faith to create places and ways to love kids who have come to them having little or no experience of it's transformative power. We have also spent time with some of these kids and have sensed just how profoundly they have thrived physically, emotionally and spiritually in a 'home' in which they can contribute, belong, be safe, love and be loved.
Sonia, and her husband Chris, have been working with and advocating for the street children of Molo, Kenya for the past number of years. Their desire is to help remove barriers to education so that the children they work with might have a chance to step out of the cycle of poverty they are entrenched in by no fault of there own. They do this by providing nutritious meals, school uniforms & fees, a place to live and learn life skills such as hygiene and cooking... all aspects of life that most of the kids they care for would not have the opportunity to provide on their own. They have kids who have 'grown up' with them who are taking further education or trade school and embody the hope that has been poured into them. It is for this work in Molo that Alex Aitken Elementary School in Duncan has raised funds for the past three years. Sonia was thankful for the money, soccer balls, and skipping ropes donated by the school.











Lucy, is a young woman who felt convicted to start caring for a 5 year old boy living on the streets of Nairobi, whom she met in front of her house 12 years ago. She began to feed, care and provide opportunities for this boy to go to school, all while deepening her mother's heart of love for him. After some time, the boy began to bring home other orphaned children he would meet in the neighborhood or on his way to or from school. When faced with the reality that no other options existed for these children Lucy opened her home and heart again and again, until she found herself caring for 20 boys and girls who had come to know her as moma Lucy.

Personally knowing the lack of love and stability and love in her own childhood, Lucy did not see her limited resources has a hindrance that might limit reaching out and taking in these kids. So with a deep faith that God would provide she and this gaggle of children moved to an outlying town and lived in a church while praying and working toward a home and space in which her growing 'family' could thrive. Along the way she has acquired the support of individuals, churches and NGOs. With that she was able to purchase some land, and with that came opportunity to invite more children to live with her and a growing staff that work with her providing a home, food and schooling until they reach adulthood... but more importantly a life where they can love and be loved.

It was overwhelming to visit with some of the 175 children living at the home(s) now known as 'Hope Center'. We were welcomed with singing and warm smiling faces of kids ranging from age 17 to newborns. It was a brilliant experience for our family to spend some time hanging out with babies and playing football (soccer)with these laughing, healthy and tireless kids!

Lucy has created a home where these kids are not just 'receiving', but are fully engaged in a life of giving to one another. Many of the older teens, who have grown up in the security of this home, care for the needs of the younger or newer children in the manner of siblings. They live in large dorms that might have an institutional appearance, however the sense of living as a family is evident throughout the place. Lucy is 36... she has been a part of changing lives with the conviction of her faith and love. It is inspiring to see the potential of a life abandoned to these things.

Benjamin the Bunny

We have been asked to 'bunnysit' a rabbit for a few days while it's owners are on the coast of Kenya. The kids are more than thrilled. This bunny is hand fed, fought over and loved. If only we would have known that for Mollie's most memorable experience we could have stayed in Canada and only spent 25$.

Today I (Dana) had the privilege of visiting 'Amani Ya Juu', a sewing-marketing-training project for marginalized women in Africa. It is a peaceful setting with a store, outdoor cafe and large building where all the sewing is done. I met women from Rwanda, Burundi, Mozambique, Kenya, Sudan, Ethiopia, Uganda and Somalia, all who are benefiting from the project. I saw a room with many sewing machines, huge windows, and couches where they have their morning prayer time. I saw peace quilts being made and women just enjoying working together. What a blessing this place is for women who have survived numerous different tragedies. After four years of training, they are equipped to start businesses of their own. I did not bring my camera but I think I will remember this place of peace in the center of Nairobi.

The Horse Man

-written by Mollie (translated by her mom)

Ges wut cind of drinx ur in Kenya. Cocacola and fanta and bidr lemin and stoney and chui tea. Sum tims we go to the gest hos to hav rel tea. Sum tims a hors man cums to let cids rid it. He cums on sundays. It was fun to ruid on the hors. It was 100 shilens.
(Guess what kind of drinks are in Kenya. Coca cola and Fanta and Bitter Lemon and Stoney and Chai tea. Some times we go to the guest house to have real tea. Some times a horse man comes to let kids ride it. He comes on Sundays. It was fun to ride on the horse. It was 100 shillings).

From our point of view...

-written by Noah
Yesterday we went to the stressful, Masai Market.We got there in a van called a matatu.The matatus are very small buses.They are always crammed with people!There are usually five people in a seat!!!When we got to the matatu stop, grandpa paid and we all piled in. A matatu has a driver and a toue. The driver drives and the tout collects the money. But the tout said we had to pay sixty shillings extra.Dad said no,and we all piled out. Then we got into the next matatu,and we finally got to the market.
When we went inside, it was like bees to honey! They surrounded us trying to make us buy something. Dad was rapidly saying "no!". Once it settled down we walked around. We bought bracelets and necklaces. I got freaked out whenever we bought something because dad would barter pretty hard. He called himself 'hard as nails'. It suited him pretty good too.
I went in thinking that they would be shoving bracelets up my nose! But I came out feeling good. That's why I had such a good time.

-written by Anna
Today I am writing about the maasai market! To get there we had to go on a matatu. I hated it... I was squished so much that it felt like my eyes would pop out! When we got there Noah and Mollie and me were holding dads hands. At first I didn't look at anything. Then I saw cool bracelets. I bought two bracelets. and I walked around and got an orange Fanta (orange pop) and walked again! Then I saw pocket mirrors. I bought one with a cheetah on it. Everyone wanted to sell everything to us! I felt timid. After a while, I got used to it. That wasn't the best day.

big city, bright sights

We have spent the past number of days nestled in the comfortable 'suburbs' of Westlands, Nairobi, in a quiet sanctuary of sprawling grass and shade trees. While this has been a wonderful place to call 'home' it would not accurately tell the story of the sprawling urban giant of Nairobi. No, to experience this you must go to where the people are.... and what better way to get there than how people get there.

This morning Dad, Noah, Anna, Mollie and I braved crossing one of the many completely chaotic traffic circles, where drivers prefer their horns, gas pedals & front bumpers to the completely unheeded traffic lights that seem to serve no purpose whatsoever. Our destination? We adventurers in this urban jungle were setting out for the Massai market in the heart of downtown, bustling with vibrancy and life... though not a description I would put to the infrastructure.

We began our journey by looking for 'public transportation'... more accurately we found the public transportation to be looking for us. A 'tout', one of a two man team, beckons to us, amidst a chorus of other such 'public servants', to choose their vessel of transport, affectionately know to hundreds of thousands of commuters as the 'matatu'.

The matatu is a Toyota or Mitsubishi minivan, generally festooned with painted pictures and slogans apparently intended to entice you to that particular vehicle... "Jesus is my Rock", "Gangsta" or "Long live Cuba" are coupled with corresponding images, and most often accompanied by music with lyrics drowned out by metallic static. All of this, along with the driver tooting his horn while the 'tout' calling to you, standing in the open sliding door, as the vehicle careens towards the curb you happen to be standing on, make it hard to resist the invitation. Inside, you will find no less then 14 seats, in various stages of disrepair... none of which boast a working seat belt.

So it is into one of these confidence inspiring vans we alight, having negotiated our price with the tout before setting foot inside. The matatu begins to roll away, our kids barely having time to look for the non existent seat belts (not likely necessary with how tightly we are pack in), when the tout tries to double our fare. Not wanting to be the travelling muzungus we so obviously are, Dad & I resist, calling our now somewhat disoriented kids to disentangle themselves from the other passengers and hit the sidewalk again, seeking a more trustworthy crew.

Fortunately, the next van is waiting, kissing its front bumper with that of the van we had just stumbled out of. So, before the kids could finish their plea to 'just walk downtown', we were spirited away...all 15 or 16 of us.

Downtown is a cacophony of color, sound and movement. The kids cling to my shirttail, hand or pant leg, wide eyed and obviously less then comfortable. Tripping over the kids, shuffling along, I am determined to forge ahead, not so much to a destination, but to an experience that will add balance to our rural and suburb exposure to Kenya. Amidst a chorus of 'can we just go home' Dad navigates through the busy streets until we arrive at the market.

While the kids have come prepared to 'just not look at anything', hoping that their feigned disinterest will keep them from the vendors seeking to ply their wares on folks just like our bedraggled group. However, we soon find the market to cause less claustrophobia then we had anticipated and we lose ourselves to the maze of people and product, with smiles, curiosities and calls of 'karibu' (welcome). After an hour of wandering, admiring, bartering and purchasing the kids have noticeably relaxed each holding their luke warm soda and souvenir.

We retrace our steps, feeling more like seasoned Kenyans, back to the familiar suburbs and our temporary home. While the reality of our obvious inexperience is apparent to all, we are grateful for the many strangers whose smiles, counsel or greeting have set us at ease and given us yet another adventure for our collective memory.

A few pictures...

It has been a very relaxed couple of days so I thought I would post a few pictures...