Hey guys.
So let’s talk about basic need- water.
In the USA we, or at least I, think about lack of water- not clean water but ANY water- very little. My theory is that we can all understand being hungry and are willing to give food because we’ve been there; nobody likes having the munchies with no money or food.
But my guess is no one reading this has ever really had to live without water.
Now I thought we had it hard here on the mission when it came to water. Our system is always breaking down so more often then not we have to drag tanks around and fill them bucket by bucket from a reservoir. When it is running it runs only in the kitchen and father’s house so in our rooms we still have to fill buckets on one side of the mission and bring them back to the rooms. I might have to cross the mission three or four times to get a bucket of water to heat so I can bathe. I may have mentioned this being a HUGE pain in the ass.
Yesterday I visited the public school. I will never complain again.
Before I go into that visit, let me give you some background.
I am determined to put a running water system in the school so the kids can shower and use actual plumbing instead of pit latrines. I am also trying to raise money to put in solar panels so we can heat the water and lower the cases of sickness within the school from bathing in the mornings or at night with the FREEZING stagnant water.
The total cost of this is about $24,000. When going over these estimates father Patrick told me about the water problems in the surrounding area.
Mulot is well known across the country for being the place to visit if you are really keen on a case of typhoid with about 20 cases a month reported at our dispensary alone. (Please keep in mind that these are only the people who come to the mission for healthcare, this does not include the surrounding hospitals or people to afraid to come for healthcare due to cost).
Why is this number so high?
People are getting their water directly out of the Amala River or other stagnant ponds in the surrounding area. The mission is the only place in Kirusu or Mulot that isn’t forced to get their water from the dirty river- only because we were lucky enough to have water underground- and is defiantly the only place where there is even a thought of pipes or pumps.
So how does this bring us to the public school? Well hold on and I will explain.
For an extra $13,261 the school could afford a 100,000 liter tank. This tank would hole enough water for the mission to provide water to the public school and sell it to the surrounding area. This tank would instantly eradicate Typhoid and other water borne pathogens that plague the town.
So Father Patrick thought I would like to take a little stroll to the public school and see where this water would go.
How do I describe this place? Think of every commercial you’ve ever seen with starving children. Add your worst nightmares. Now throw in a dash of filth and disease that make you want to gag. Remove any shoes or well taken care of clothing. Serve on a platter of unimaginable poverty.
You have the recipe for a Kenyan public school.
Please don’t make the mistake of thinking I exaggerate. Pictures will follow soon once I gather my courage around me.
So upon visiting the school I was taken to the kitchen to see the water they cook with and drink. It was brown. Positively brown.
But perhaps it was just the container?
No, I took a cup of the water out and it stayed brown.
Brown not the color you want to drink? Well luckily there was a basin of green water also.
But the school is thankful for this water. The land the school is on is completely dry and they have no piping to get the water onto the campus.
So how do they get the water you ask?
The children are sent off during school hour’s everyday to fetch water in small five gallon containers. They are instructed to bring back whatever water is found.
So not only are the kids getting sick, but they had to miss school and be sent off to find the diseases.
Please don’t blame the school because what else could be done? They have no plumbing, no pipes, nothing that could bring the water to them and they need to it feed the children and keep the place “clean”.
But here is the real kicker. I hope you’re sitting down because this piece of information almost knocked the wind out of me.
They are going to start PAYING for this diseased water.
And who are they going to pay?
Why the government!
The school is actually going to pay the government to bring in the dirty untreated water if we cannot get this extra tank.
SO
The money the school should be using to fix the buildings that are literally falling apart to a point you can see through the walls, to buy desks instead of the three pieces of wood stapled together with 4 kids crammed in, and to pay more then 14 teachers for the 700 students will actually be going to be used to pay so that they can get ill.
It’s a cute trick, eh?
So as unequivocally important as it is to get warm running water here, it is just as important to get this tank for the public school and surrounding area.
Incase your curious as to what it’s like to catch one of these nasty water bugs let me tell you from my own first hand experience.
It begins with stomach cramps that make you want to die. It feels as if a claw has grabbed onto your intestines and squeezed hard enough to puncture your lower GI tract. The pain can be only just tolerated if you don’t move for six hours. Of course this is impossible because your system is emptying itself of all waste (which makes you feel like you were shitting a knife). The running back and forth and complete loss of fluids exhausted me to the point where I spent an hour trying to convince myself it would be perfectly acceptable for me to shit myself because moving sounded like the most difficult task in the world. The hot flashes make you want to dunk yourself in water unless you can hold out for the cold shivering flashes. As you can imagine it’s pretty hard to think straight throughout this episode so it’s damn near impossible to force yourself to due anything that would make you comfortable. Particularly as the cramps travel up through out your whole backed up system into a pain that develops into your ribs.
By the way, this entire time you are running across the fields to get to latrines so you can shit in a whole. This is the cherry on top because you get to hang out with thousands, and I mean literally thousands, of flies in what passes for a hygienic bathroom here.
Of course this was just me having a small bug. Not typhoid.
Just to drive the point home I want to remind you these are small children dealing with this pain and disease.
So yes I am asking for donations. If we can raise enough to pay for these water systems we can literally save people’s lives.
I can’t even continue this blog anymore, it is really painful to remember that water and picture the kids drinking it.
Go have a hearty glass of water. Appreciate the hell out of it. Then donate so someone else can have that same experience without fear of sickness or even death for the first time in their entire life.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Crossing Alone
Mambo readers?
(you say poa)
So I am finally back in Mulot after fighting for almost a week to get back. The thing about Kenyans is they love having visitors. They don’t care if they are busy; they want you to stay as long as possible and in an effort to be helpful will often impede you when you try to leave.
For example
I wanted to leave Laiktoktok last Friday. The seminarians convinced me I should stay until at least Sunday to celebrate the fourth (which consisted of them asking me how long we’ve been independent and then being told we should move the fourth of july so it wouldn’t be on a Sunday). On Sunday I was asked to stay until Monday so I could find a matatu (mini-bus) easier. Monday morning one of the priests suggests I stay until Tuesday to get a ride from his friend driving to Nairobi. So what happens next? You guessed it Tuesday rolls around and his friend is still in Tanzania forcing me to wait until Wednesday where at breakfast I had to put my foot down and announce I was leaving if I had to walk back to Mulot (which almost became the case).
As obnoxious as this sounds when I read it back to myself I do have to say I wasn’t really complaining. I really enjoyed my time there and it is nice to feel so wanted.
It was also nice to see Christy- an American ex-peace corps member)- and talk to someone who lives mere hours away from Chicago. Everyday I tried to leave she laughed with me while I made another futile plan. She says she always has the same experience.
The issue is around here you get so close to people so fast that it becomes hard to leave, even when you want to and you know you should. I feel just as close to the people in laiktoktok as I do to many of the people here and I feel closer to some of the people here then I do with people back home I’ve known for years.
So I was sad to leave.
Of course I had to forget about that sadness as I boarded my Matatu home because getting across Kenya by myself became quite the adventure.
It began at 8 am when I got onto my matatu. I sat in the front seat with the driver and another passenger who happened to be in traditional Masai clothing.
To paint a clearer picture for you I need to explain that there was really only enough room for two people in the front of the matatu but they always cram three so we were elbow to elbow with both the driver and I being poked and prodded by the masai man’s jewelry.
The driver only spoke Swahili, the man kimasai and I only English. Usually this would lead to a silent trip but not in Kenya- a language barrier is no reason not to make friends!
So we pantomimed conversation all of us exhausting what little we knew of each other’s languages well the masai man tried to sell me his jewelry.
Eventually we arrived in Nairobi in a completely unfamiliar part. The driver was nice enough to walk me across the city with my bags to the Narok stage (where the buses to Narok wait) but I had to think quick when he asked for my phone number- gotta love the I have no credit excuse.
Eventually I get on the bus and am on my way to Narok where I assume Father Patrick will be waiting to pick me up as the plan was explained to me. But it became clear to me father Patrick would not be picking me up when I sent him a text telling him I was on the way and he answered “safe journey” which is Kenyan for “your on your own kid”.
Alright no problem I’ll just find a bus to Mulot from Narok; I’ve done that before even though never alone but how hard can it be?
Well it suddenly became much harder when the bus broke down halfway to Narok. After sitting on the side of the highway for about a half hour all the passengers got behind the bus and pushed until it started. This is when I noticed that there was only about an hour left until the matatus stopped running.
So because I was under a time crunch I of course got lost in Narok. The bus dropped us off in an unfamiliar area due to the breakdown and left us to walk to wherever we needed to go. luckily I was only lost for 15 minutes and was able to hop on the last matatu in the park. Unluckily I had to sit with a small child in my lap the whole ride.
Now you can imagine after all this plus an hour of a small child kicking and screaming in my lap I was rather frustrated. So I was really not in the mood for the matatu driver’s vulgarity when I reached Mulot.
This is probably why when one of the drivers called out mzungu and made an obscene gesture with his tongue I exploded and proceeded to loudly explain to the driver where he could go, what he could do there, and what kind of animal he was (in case you are wondering the animal I called him was vernacular for Feline. Don’t get it? Just think about it for a bit. It will come to you)
But in the end alls well as I am back on the mission safe and happy except for the fact I accidently grew thin in laiktoktok and now must double my food intake. Which really means the animals here are going to double their food intake as I tend to hide the food outside and pretend I ate it.
Anyway I love and miss you all back home. sorry this one wasn’t too deep but I thought you all might enjoy the story.
Aliya
(you say poa)
So I am finally back in Mulot after fighting for almost a week to get back. The thing about Kenyans is they love having visitors. They don’t care if they are busy; they want you to stay as long as possible and in an effort to be helpful will often impede you when you try to leave.
For example
I wanted to leave Laiktoktok last Friday. The seminarians convinced me I should stay until at least Sunday to celebrate the fourth (which consisted of them asking me how long we’ve been independent and then being told we should move the fourth of july so it wouldn’t be on a Sunday). On Sunday I was asked to stay until Monday so I could find a matatu (mini-bus) easier. Monday morning one of the priests suggests I stay until Tuesday to get a ride from his friend driving to Nairobi. So what happens next? You guessed it Tuesday rolls around and his friend is still in Tanzania forcing me to wait until Wednesday where at breakfast I had to put my foot down and announce I was leaving if I had to walk back to Mulot (which almost became the case).
As obnoxious as this sounds when I read it back to myself I do have to say I wasn’t really complaining. I really enjoyed my time there and it is nice to feel so wanted.
It was also nice to see Christy- an American ex-peace corps member)- and talk to someone who lives mere hours away from Chicago. Everyday I tried to leave she laughed with me while I made another futile plan. She says she always has the same experience.
The issue is around here you get so close to people so fast that it becomes hard to leave, even when you want to and you know you should. I feel just as close to the people in laiktoktok as I do to many of the people here and I feel closer to some of the people here then I do with people back home I’ve known for years.
So I was sad to leave.
Of course I had to forget about that sadness as I boarded my Matatu home because getting across Kenya by myself became quite the adventure.
It began at 8 am when I got onto my matatu. I sat in the front seat with the driver and another passenger who happened to be in traditional Masai clothing.
To paint a clearer picture for you I need to explain that there was really only enough room for two people in the front of the matatu but they always cram three so we were elbow to elbow with both the driver and I being poked and prodded by the masai man’s jewelry.
The driver only spoke Swahili, the man kimasai and I only English. Usually this would lead to a silent trip but not in Kenya- a language barrier is no reason not to make friends!
So we pantomimed conversation all of us exhausting what little we knew of each other’s languages well the masai man tried to sell me his jewelry.
Eventually we arrived in Nairobi in a completely unfamiliar part. The driver was nice enough to walk me across the city with my bags to the Narok stage (where the buses to Narok wait) but I had to think quick when he asked for my phone number- gotta love the I have no credit excuse.
Eventually I get on the bus and am on my way to Narok where I assume Father Patrick will be waiting to pick me up as the plan was explained to me. But it became clear to me father Patrick would not be picking me up when I sent him a text telling him I was on the way and he answered “safe journey” which is Kenyan for “your on your own kid”.
Alright no problem I’ll just find a bus to Mulot from Narok; I’ve done that before even though never alone but how hard can it be?
Well it suddenly became much harder when the bus broke down halfway to Narok. After sitting on the side of the highway for about a half hour all the passengers got behind the bus and pushed until it started. This is when I noticed that there was only about an hour left until the matatus stopped running.
So because I was under a time crunch I of course got lost in Narok. The bus dropped us off in an unfamiliar area due to the breakdown and left us to walk to wherever we needed to go. luckily I was only lost for 15 minutes and was able to hop on the last matatu in the park. Unluckily I had to sit with a small child in my lap the whole ride.
Now you can imagine after all this plus an hour of a small child kicking and screaming in my lap I was rather frustrated. So I was really not in the mood for the matatu driver’s vulgarity when I reached Mulot.
This is probably why when one of the drivers called out mzungu and made an obscene gesture with his tongue I exploded and proceeded to loudly explain to the driver where he could go, what he could do there, and what kind of animal he was (in case you are wondering the animal I called him was vernacular for Feline. Don’t get it? Just think about it for a bit. It will come to you)
But in the end alls well as I am back on the mission safe and happy except for the fact I accidently grew thin in laiktoktok and now must double my food intake. Which really means the animals here are going to double their food intake as I tend to hide the food outside and pretend I ate it.
Anyway I love and miss you all back home. sorry this one wasn’t too deep but I thought you all might enjoy the story.
Aliya
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Universal Intertia
When I was sixteen I was in a car crash. More like I crashed the car but that’s not the point. I remember the moment when I realized the crash was inevitable, it wasn’t a terrible feeling it was just as if knowledge had been added. Rocks are hard, waters wet and I am about to total this car. I looked down and thought “oh good the airbags are deploying”.
It’s that sort of calm inevitably at high speeds I feel now.
I officially have no idea what’s next as school plans just changed completely,” change” here meaning disappeared, so I have no idea where I am headed. I just know I am headed forward. Or backwards. Maybe sideways? I just know the movement can’t stop.
I thought so many things before I arrived that I unthink now. I don’t disagree with them so much as think them backwards. Try to figure out where the ideas came from and why they are here.
I have lost myself completely. I feel like I’m floating alone with nothing solid. Maybe there is just nothingness. But it’s a special nothingness. It’s the nothingness of possibility. It’s not scary, it’s enticing, it’s comforting, it’s everything. An everything nothingness.
I guess it’s more like emptiness that I’m excited to fill.
I don’t know what the existentialists are bitching about. “Who am I?” and “why am I here?” aren’t depressing they’re electrifying.
Who the hell am I? I’m whoever the fuck I want to be. I’m here because I want to be. I’m doing this because I can.
Look at me, I’m alive. I can run and I can jump and I can scream and I can be whoever and whatever I want.
You surround yourself with your riches but my wealth is in my potential. It’s opposite-tangible because it has to be but I love it this way. The blankness is what allows me to open my arms and spin. I feel bad for those who are caught and choked by their reasons. To those who can’t move because they are too cramped by plans I am sorry. I encourage you to throw them out.
I don’t even know where this writing is going. It’s open ended. Never ended. Ever ended.
I’ve either completely lost my mind or reached enlightenment.
I have no idea what’s next but I’m not afraid. It’s like I’m falling to my back but instead of bracing I’m enjoying the view of the sky.
I love you all for reading my blog and considering my thoughts and paying attentions to my actions. If my blog has ever given you any advice or thoughts about your own life then know this now.
Do not be afraid of the landing.
It can be soft or hard or anything in between but we have no idea. Life becomes much more fun, more enticing, more enjoyable, when you cease to flail your arms and legs and brace for the inevitable. When you just let the free falling sensation wash over you, you are allowed to open your eyes in all directions. The world gets bigger and smaller- bigger in that you can finally see it and smaller in that you can see yourself as a continuation of it rather then a piece of it- and infinitely more beautiful.
If I have learned nothing else in Africa then this is the lesson I will hold dear for the rest of my life.
This acceptance is within everyone here, priests, children, volunteers, and comes in all forms. It is this that allows us to work through what seemed like it would kill us months ago.
I wrote about faith and how it here in places it has no business being because to the people here just being alive, even for minutes, is enough of a gift to celebrate and thank god for. I understood that on an intellectual level but now it has made it’s way into my core being.
I am, we are, so lucky to have the whole world before us.
I know what direction I’m moving. Front-wise. I am just going and going because how in the hell can a person stop when life exists in all it’s wonder?
I hope this manic ecstasy has shaken you up the way it has me. I hope it has made you too big for your own skin so that you have to get up and see what you can do with your new self.
Please don’t be afraid. (and please pay me for this advice. Through donations. Hahaha just kidding. Not really.)
I know this had little to do with Africa and completely lacked the story telling you are used to. Sorry. Had to get it out. If you are unsatisfied here is a quick anecdote-
I was locked in my room for 3 hours a few days ago as the door was broken. I am visiting a new mission and had no one’s phone number so I just had to sit and wait for a solution to present itself. Which it did in two small children I scared the hell out of after I leaned out of a window and yelled for them. One of the kids ran away the toher fought with the door for a few minutes until leaving to find someone else. Once the oor was finally opened I realized I couldn’t find my phone. Once the phone was found the lights wouldn’t turn on. This has caused me to come the the conclusion that problems, much like matter, are never created or destroyed. They simply change shape.
I love you and will be home in four months.
Aliya (or Aliambo if you are in Kisumu.)
It’s that sort of calm inevitably at high speeds I feel now.
I officially have no idea what’s next as school plans just changed completely,” change” here meaning disappeared, so I have no idea where I am headed. I just know I am headed forward. Or backwards. Maybe sideways? I just know the movement can’t stop.
I thought so many things before I arrived that I unthink now. I don’t disagree with them so much as think them backwards. Try to figure out where the ideas came from and why they are here.
I have lost myself completely. I feel like I’m floating alone with nothing solid. Maybe there is just nothingness. But it’s a special nothingness. It’s the nothingness of possibility. It’s not scary, it’s enticing, it’s comforting, it’s everything. An everything nothingness.
I guess it’s more like emptiness that I’m excited to fill.
I don’t know what the existentialists are bitching about. “Who am I?” and “why am I here?” aren’t depressing they’re electrifying.
Who the hell am I? I’m whoever the fuck I want to be. I’m here because I want to be. I’m doing this because I can.
Look at me, I’m alive. I can run and I can jump and I can scream and I can be whoever and whatever I want.
You surround yourself with your riches but my wealth is in my potential. It’s opposite-tangible because it has to be but I love it this way. The blankness is what allows me to open my arms and spin. I feel bad for those who are caught and choked by their reasons. To those who can’t move because they are too cramped by plans I am sorry. I encourage you to throw them out.
I don’t even know where this writing is going. It’s open ended. Never ended. Ever ended.
I’ve either completely lost my mind or reached enlightenment.
I have no idea what’s next but I’m not afraid. It’s like I’m falling to my back but instead of bracing I’m enjoying the view of the sky.
I love you all for reading my blog and considering my thoughts and paying attentions to my actions. If my blog has ever given you any advice or thoughts about your own life then know this now.
Do not be afraid of the landing.
It can be soft or hard or anything in between but we have no idea. Life becomes much more fun, more enticing, more enjoyable, when you cease to flail your arms and legs and brace for the inevitable. When you just let the free falling sensation wash over you, you are allowed to open your eyes in all directions. The world gets bigger and smaller- bigger in that you can finally see it and smaller in that you can see yourself as a continuation of it rather then a piece of it- and infinitely more beautiful.
If I have learned nothing else in Africa then this is the lesson I will hold dear for the rest of my life.
This acceptance is within everyone here, priests, children, volunteers, and comes in all forms. It is this that allows us to work through what seemed like it would kill us months ago.
I wrote about faith and how it here in places it has no business being because to the people here just being alive, even for minutes, is enough of a gift to celebrate and thank god for. I understood that on an intellectual level but now it has made it’s way into my core being.
I am, we are, so lucky to have the whole world before us.
I know what direction I’m moving. Front-wise. I am just going and going because how in the hell can a person stop when life exists in all it’s wonder?
I hope this manic ecstasy has shaken you up the way it has me. I hope it has made you too big for your own skin so that you have to get up and see what you can do with your new self.
Please don’t be afraid. (and please pay me for this advice. Through donations. Hahaha just kidding. Not really.)
I know this had little to do with Africa and completely lacked the story telling you are used to. Sorry. Had to get it out. If you are unsatisfied here is a quick anecdote-
I was locked in my room for 3 hours a few days ago as the door was broken. I am visiting a new mission and had no one’s phone number so I just had to sit and wait for a solution to present itself. Which it did in two small children I scared the hell out of after I leaned out of a window and yelled for them. One of the kids ran away the toher fought with the door for a few minutes until leaving to find someone else. Once the oor was finally opened I realized I couldn’t find my phone. Once the phone was found the lights wouldn’t turn on. This has caused me to come the the conclusion that problems, much like matter, are never created or destroyed. They simply change shape.
I love you and will be home in four months.
Aliya (or Aliambo if you are in Kisumu.)
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Living of Love
Hey guys!
So we finished shooting the gospel video, thank God, and I am now back in Mulot. The problem is now I miss Kisumu.
The thing about getting to travel around and live this kind of life is you start to love all the people and places almost too much. Saying goodbye to the people in Kisumu was almost as hard as saying goodbye to the people back home.
I have another home now, the problem is I had to leave it. Just like I’ll have to leave this one. To go back to the one I miss desperately across the globe. For the rest of my life a I will miss somewhere else.
I think the reason I miss Kisumu so much, and know I will miss Mulot so much, is because both of these places are so full of love. People here are so willing to love an accept you; they want to love you. It is truly the communal family feeling my friends and I tried to create throughout high school.
You can see this love in every aspect of society. All the women are “Mamas” the men “Abbas” the younger crowd, so around my age, are all “brother” or “sister” and every child is called “son” or “daughter” by everyone. Everyone is considered an intimate member of the family.
You can find examples of this everywhere. In the community built orphanages, the fact that no food goes unshared, in just the way people interact with each other. Nobody ever starts a conversation without prefacing it by asking how you are or inquiring about your health.
Yesterday on the bus home Madame Grace and I sat in the front. About half way through a small child started coughing. Without thinking Madame Grace took one of the plastic bottles of water brought with and handed to the child’s mother. After she struggled with opening it for a few minutes a man behind her grabbed it, opened it and then proceded to hold it so the child could drink.
This doesn’t sound like a particularly love filled or community oriented story but think about it- when was the last time you did something like that? When was the last time you saw someone do something like that?
My friend Jay, who is poor as shit and probably can barely pay his rent, never goes hungry because someone in his apartment complex will give him dinner no question asked. The only expectation of Jay is that he would do the same thing for them. Which of course he would.
What inspires people who have so little to share it? Why don’t the hoard the little they have and refuse to see others in order to protect it? I mean if all I had to live of was an acre of maize I don’t know if I would be so willing to share it.
Are we as westerners so fundamentally different from Africans? Why are we less willing to help each other out? It’s tempting to tell yourself that people don’t need as much help in the USA so it’s easier not to share but let’s not entertain that kind of bullshit for a second. People need just as much help there as they do here but for some reason we fight like hell not to give it. Whether people are arguing against welfare or walking by the homeless without a passing glance or are bitching about the 50 hours of required community service from high school it’s like we are always fighting to not have to share.
Do you know where that gets us? At home alone with our shit.
I don’t want to offend anyone by saying that no one is the US shares but I don’t think anyone could argue that it isn’t a very different begrudging sharing. Like “I will lend you 5 dollars but I will not be happy about it and I expect you to give me that 5 dollars back soon” whereas in Africa it is more along the lines of “I will give you have my food because you are my neighbor and you are hungry and one day you will do the same for me because we are both human”
Yes we have more wealth in the US but where has that really gotten us?
Interesting related note, I can’t find the Swahili word for “please” I don’t think it exists but they do have “thank-you” and “welcome”
It can drive one a little crazy, everyone being connected like a family and nothing belonging to any one person, but only as crazy as your family back home drives you. It’s really amazing to live so communally.
Maybe the reason people have such huge families here is because they feel like they have too much infinite love for the small amount of people already alive so they have to make more.
My Infinite Love is back home with you
Aliya
So we finished shooting the gospel video, thank God, and I am now back in Mulot. The problem is now I miss Kisumu.
The thing about getting to travel around and live this kind of life is you start to love all the people and places almost too much. Saying goodbye to the people in Kisumu was almost as hard as saying goodbye to the people back home.
I have another home now, the problem is I had to leave it. Just like I’ll have to leave this one. To go back to the one I miss desperately across the globe. For the rest of my life a I will miss somewhere else.
I think the reason I miss Kisumu so much, and know I will miss Mulot so much, is because both of these places are so full of love. People here are so willing to love an accept you; they want to love you. It is truly the communal family feeling my friends and I tried to create throughout high school.
You can see this love in every aspect of society. All the women are “Mamas” the men “Abbas” the younger crowd, so around my age, are all “brother” or “sister” and every child is called “son” or “daughter” by everyone. Everyone is considered an intimate member of the family.
You can find examples of this everywhere. In the community built orphanages, the fact that no food goes unshared, in just the way people interact with each other. Nobody ever starts a conversation without prefacing it by asking how you are or inquiring about your health.
Yesterday on the bus home Madame Grace and I sat in the front. About half way through a small child started coughing. Without thinking Madame Grace took one of the plastic bottles of water brought with and handed to the child’s mother. After she struggled with opening it for a few minutes a man behind her grabbed it, opened it and then proceded to hold it so the child could drink.
This doesn’t sound like a particularly love filled or community oriented story but think about it- when was the last time you did something like that? When was the last time you saw someone do something like that?
My friend Jay, who is poor as shit and probably can barely pay his rent, never goes hungry because someone in his apartment complex will give him dinner no question asked. The only expectation of Jay is that he would do the same thing for them. Which of course he would.
What inspires people who have so little to share it? Why don’t the hoard the little they have and refuse to see others in order to protect it? I mean if all I had to live of was an acre of maize I don’t know if I would be so willing to share it.
Are we as westerners so fundamentally different from Africans? Why are we less willing to help each other out? It’s tempting to tell yourself that people don’t need as much help in the USA so it’s easier not to share but let’s not entertain that kind of bullshit for a second. People need just as much help there as they do here but for some reason we fight like hell not to give it. Whether people are arguing against welfare or walking by the homeless without a passing glance or are bitching about the 50 hours of required community service from high school it’s like we are always fighting to not have to share.
Do you know where that gets us? At home alone with our shit.
I don’t want to offend anyone by saying that no one is the US shares but I don’t think anyone could argue that it isn’t a very different begrudging sharing. Like “I will lend you 5 dollars but I will not be happy about it and I expect you to give me that 5 dollars back soon” whereas in Africa it is more along the lines of “I will give you have my food because you are my neighbor and you are hungry and one day you will do the same for me because we are both human”
Yes we have more wealth in the US but where has that really gotten us?
Interesting related note, I can’t find the Swahili word for “please” I don’t think it exists but they do have “thank-you” and “welcome”
It can drive one a little crazy, everyone being connected like a family and nothing belonging to any one person, but only as crazy as your family back home drives you. It’s really amazing to live so communally.
Maybe the reason people have such huge families here is because they feel like they have too much infinite love for the small amount of people already alive so they have to make more.
My Infinite Love is back home with you
Aliya
Saturday, June 19, 2010
I SINGLEHANDEDLY Sexualized Kenya's Gospel Scene and All I Got Was This Stupid Blog
There comes a time in one’s life, when one wonders
“How did I get here and what in the hell did I do to deserve this?”
This thought crossed my mind yesterday wearing a burlap traditional African outfit well dancing to gospel music. All with a smile on my face as I was being recorded.
On Thursday Madame Grace and I left the mission to go visit her home in Kisumu. I was excited thinking it might be a nice change from the mission. How wrong I was.
Throughout the journey I was forced to fight of vendors who were a delightful mixture of obscene, crude, aggressive and smelly.
Now when I say aggressive I don’t mean the guy who follows you around the club for a little while well you dance with your friends. I mean the kind of aggressive that caused a man to jump onto a moving bus and refuse to let go until I gave him my phone number. Don’t worry I gave him a fake number and when he jumped off the moving bus and tumbled to the ground he looked alright.
When we finally reached the mission after 3 matatus and a motorcycle ride I assumed I had reached salvation. Little did I know I was just heading for the next ring of hell.
It turns out the reason we are spending a week here in kisumu rather then the weekend I thought we were spending is because we are shooting a gospel music video. Which I am in. dancing. Dead center.
Just kill me.
I tried to get out of it by throwing up in the church during rosary but to no avail. It is too late. There is video evidence of this event. Which is too bad because it means I will have to kill these people, burn down the mission and destroy all the evidence.
Even if I didn't have a solo dance part because someone saw me pop my butt I would have to kill these people. but as it is I swiveled my hips and now they have me dancing in a way that makes it look like the music should be called "Jesus- Gettin' down wit some bitchez". The girls have also starting imitating the dances. I can feel myself being pulled underground and into hell.
but all of this dancing, all of this gospel, all of this future blackmail begs the questionwhy are we doing this? Why is one always hearing a hymn and seeing people dance spontaneously? In essence…
what is faith?
I have been pondering this in question and today during rosary watching people actively enjoy what has been portrayed as boring obligation to many back home I think I got some answers.
Faith is believing that the lights are going to come back on even though they have been off for hours and the storm is raging. Faith is believing the water is clean.
Faith is the songs your mother sang you to sleep with. Faith is the place where you and all your loved ones live and gather. Faith is where you played as a child, where your food was gotten, where your friends all met. Faith is home.
But because these answers I came up with didn’t seem enough I decided to ask.
I asked Mercy. I asked her because she is missing her right leg, her left foot, many of her fingers and has a burn up her arm that hurts to look at. And she goes to church everyday. I asked Mercy how she can retain her faith after such terrible things happened to her. Her answer?
“Because I survived”
And it is as simple as that. Life itself s considered gift enough to praise god. The mere fact that you live and breathe and have been allowed even minutes on this earth is enough to force you to your knees and thank God until you are hoarse.
It is a profound appreciation I hope I can one day adopt.
I guess when you have nothing, you have everything to gain.
I would have written more but it is time to go dance again.
I Love You and Miss You and Am Not Giving You a Copy of These Tapes
Aliya
“How did I get here and what in the hell did I do to deserve this?”
This thought crossed my mind yesterday wearing a burlap traditional African outfit well dancing to gospel music. All with a smile on my face as I was being recorded.
On Thursday Madame Grace and I left the mission to go visit her home in Kisumu. I was excited thinking it might be a nice change from the mission. How wrong I was.
Throughout the journey I was forced to fight of vendors who were a delightful mixture of obscene, crude, aggressive and smelly.
Now when I say aggressive I don’t mean the guy who follows you around the club for a little while well you dance with your friends. I mean the kind of aggressive that caused a man to jump onto a moving bus and refuse to let go until I gave him my phone number. Don’t worry I gave him a fake number and when he jumped off the moving bus and tumbled to the ground he looked alright.
When we finally reached the mission after 3 matatus and a motorcycle ride I assumed I had reached salvation. Little did I know I was just heading for the next ring of hell.
It turns out the reason we are spending a week here in kisumu rather then the weekend I thought we were spending is because we are shooting a gospel music video. Which I am in. dancing. Dead center.
Just kill me.
I tried to get out of it by throwing up in the church during rosary but to no avail. It is too late. There is video evidence of this event. Which is too bad because it means I will have to kill these people, burn down the mission and destroy all the evidence.
Even if I didn't have a solo dance part because someone saw me pop my butt I would have to kill these people. but as it is I swiveled my hips and now they have me dancing in a way that makes it look like the music should be called "Jesus- Gettin' down wit some bitchez". The girls have also starting imitating the dances. I can feel myself being pulled underground and into hell.
but all of this dancing, all of this gospel, all of this future blackmail begs the questionwhy are we doing this? Why is one always hearing a hymn and seeing people dance spontaneously? In essence…
what is faith?
I have been pondering this in question and today during rosary watching people actively enjoy what has been portrayed as boring obligation to many back home I think I got some answers.
Faith is believing that the lights are going to come back on even though they have been off for hours and the storm is raging. Faith is believing the water is clean.
Faith is the songs your mother sang you to sleep with. Faith is the place where you and all your loved ones live and gather. Faith is where you played as a child, where your food was gotten, where your friends all met. Faith is home.
But because these answers I came up with didn’t seem enough I decided to ask.
I asked Mercy. I asked her because she is missing her right leg, her left foot, many of her fingers and has a burn up her arm that hurts to look at. And she goes to church everyday. I asked Mercy how she can retain her faith after such terrible things happened to her. Her answer?
“Because I survived”
And it is as simple as that. Life itself s considered gift enough to praise god. The mere fact that you live and breathe and have been allowed even minutes on this earth is enough to force you to your knees and thank God until you are hoarse.
It is a profound appreciation I hope I can one day adopt.
I guess when you have nothing, you have everything to gain.
I would have written more but it is time to go dance again.
I Love You and Miss You and Am Not Giving You a Copy of These Tapes
Aliya
Monday, June 14, 2010
La Douleur Exquise
Hey guys. I know it’s been awhile. I’ll be sorry when I have that kind of energy to spare.
I meant to write something about the school or the kids. But today it’s about me. And it’s not cheerful so consider yourself warned.
I am at a place beyond overwhelmed. I am beyond stress. I live within a constant hum of numbers and figures of what’s needed. I live within a constant blur of faces of those who are hurt and helpless and are reaching out for hope. I live within a constant scream.
Yesterday I went to visit a friend in Narok thinking I could have a day away from the mission with a friend. Just chill. Forget for a few hours about the great and terrible need. That was stupid of me. Poverty is always lying in wait to pounce.
My friend’s landlord stopped me and told me the newest version of the same story. Dead parents, three young kids living with him, no money for school not to even mention food or clothing.
All I could do was nod my head and say “I’ll see what I can do”, because I am out of promises. What I wanted to do was shake him and scream DO YOU REALIZE THAT YOU HAVE ADDED $10,000 TO WHAT I NEED? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH MONEY I NEED?
Instead I shook his hand and watched as his wife cried tears of hope.
I sat in my friend’s apartment with my head in my hands and when asked if I was crying I said no I’m doing math. As I ran through the calculations of school fees, debt relief numbers and expense reports that are my continuous companions he stopped me to tell me I could try just getting fees for one.
I had to stop myself from slapping him. I almost screamed “What do you mean just one? You can’t just take one. That’s worse then taking none” and he understood. Because there really is no way to pick and choose. They are all just as orphaned. Just as in need. Just as beautiful and deserving.
One of the aforementioned orphans came into his apartment and crawled into my lap and I wanted to cry and cry and cry and tell the child how beautiful and wonderful it was and how much I hated it and wished I had never met it. How I would never stop until I found a school for him but how a terrible and dark part of me hoped something would happen to take his burden off my hands.
As I looked into the child’s eyes all I could see reflected back at me were his added costs.
The more I grow into a hero here the smaller I feel. The more confident I am of my failure. I often feel that I am causing more harm than good. That I am wreaking havoc because in the end I will disappoint all and they will be worse off then they wore because they tasted hope.
I try to tell myself that if I can raise half the money, help half the people, reach a checkpoint I will be happy with myself. But that is a line of bullshit that makes me gag. I know I will never be able to look at myself again if I fail at this. I know that if I fall short at this then for the rest of my life I will look in the mirror and see Duncan or Daisy or Mary or Terrance looking back at me. Asking me why. Why didn’t I have the strength or the courage or the ability to help them.
If I fail at this I will never be without guilt.
Do you think I’m too involved in this? Do you think I’m too invested? Well I challenge you to do something remotely like this and not end up like me.
If I did not end up in this sort of exquisite agony then I would not be a person I could be proud of.
Maybe I’ll forgive myself if I fail, but I will never forgive myself if I do not exhaust every option I have.
So I’m calling in all debts. Did I lend you $5 in the seventh grade for lunch? Hand it over. Did I ever treat you to a movie? It’s payback time. That gas money I never asked for? I want it now. Pay me for any meal you ever ate at my house, for any joking bet we ever made, for anytime I bought the party favors. I don’t care why you pay me just hand the money over. If you don’t think you owe me any money then lend some to me now. Donate and keep tabs. I will pay you back. With interest. I will go into debt myself. What do you need? What can I do? Begging? Done. Pleading? Already happening. Want me to crawl on my hands and knees? Tell me when and where.
This is Africa. We all live in 7x5 quarters. There is no room for dignity.
I wonder if this is how Al Gore feels when he tries to get an environmental passed.
I love you. Please take part in my agony.
Aliya
I meant to write something about the school or the kids. But today it’s about me. And it’s not cheerful so consider yourself warned.
I am at a place beyond overwhelmed. I am beyond stress. I live within a constant hum of numbers and figures of what’s needed. I live within a constant blur of faces of those who are hurt and helpless and are reaching out for hope. I live within a constant scream.
Yesterday I went to visit a friend in Narok thinking I could have a day away from the mission with a friend. Just chill. Forget for a few hours about the great and terrible need. That was stupid of me. Poverty is always lying in wait to pounce.
My friend’s landlord stopped me and told me the newest version of the same story. Dead parents, three young kids living with him, no money for school not to even mention food or clothing.
All I could do was nod my head and say “I’ll see what I can do”, because I am out of promises. What I wanted to do was shake him and scream DO YOU REALIZE THAT YOU HAVE ADDED $10,000 TO WHAT I NEED? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH MONEY I NEED?
Instead I shook his hand and watched as his wife cried tears of hope.
I sat in my friend’s apartment with my head in my hands and when asked if I was crying I said no I’m doing math. As I ran through the calculations of school fees, debt relief numbers and expense reports that are my continuous companions he stopped me to tell me I could try just getting fees for one.
I had to stop myself from slapping him. I almost screamed “What do you mean just one? You can’t just take one. That’s worse then taking none” and he understood. Because there really is no way to pick and choose. They are all just as orphaned. Just as in need. Just as beautiful and deserving.
One of the aforementioned orphans came into his apartment and crawled into my lap and I wanted to cry and cry and cry and tell the child how beautiful and wonderful it was and how much I hated it and wished I had never met it. How I would never stop until I found a school for him but how a terrible and dark part of me hoped something would happen to take his burden off my hands.
As I looked into the child’s eyes all I could see reflected back at me were his added costs.
The more I grow into a hero here the smaller I feel. The more confident I am of my failure. I often feel that I am causing more harm than good. That I am wreaking havoc because in the end I will disappoint all and they will be worse off then they wore because they tasted hope.
I try to tell myself that if I can raise half the money, help half the people, reach a checkpoint I will be happy with myself. But that is a line of bullshit that makes me gag. I know I will never be able to look at myself again if I fail at this. I know that if I fall short at this then for the rest of my life I will look in the mirror and see Duncan or Daisy or Mary or Terrance looking back at me. Asking me why. Why didn’t I have the strength or the courage or the ability to help them.
If I fail at this I will never be without guilt.
Do you think I’m too involved in this? Do you think I’m too invested? Well I challenge you to do something remotely like this and not end up like me.
If I did not end up in this sort of exquisite agony then I would not be a person I could be proud of.
Maybe I’ll forgive myself if I fail, but I will never forgive myself if I do not exhaust every option I have.
So I’m calling in all debts. Did I lend you $5 in the seventh grade for lunch? Hand it over. Did I ever treat you to a movie? It’s payback time. That gas money I never asked for? I want it now. Pay me for any meal you ever ate at my house, for any joking bet we ever made, for anytime I bought the party favors. I don’t care why you pay me just hand the money over. If you don’t think you owe me any money then lend some to me now. Donate and keep tabs. I will pay you back. With interest. I will go into debt myself. What do you need? What can I do? Begging? Done. Pleading? Already happening. Want me to crawl on my hands and knees? Tell me when and where.
This is Africa. We all live in 7x5 quarters. There is no room for dignity.
I wonder if this is how Al Gore feels when he tries to get an environmental passed.
I love you. Please take part in my agony.
Aliya
Monday, June 7, 2010
Speaking for Themselves
So instead of listening to me in this post, I want you to listen to some of the kids here that need the most help. These are essas from the poorest cildren at the school written to me asking for help to pay their school fees. Hopefully this moves you to donate.
Kennedy Lemayian- class 8
To Madame Aliya
My name is Kennedy Lemayian. I live in Narok in a place called Protian. It’s a forest.
My mom can not be able to cater for all the things I need. I have a brother staying in Nairobi. His name is Keith and he’s now in form 3 in a school called Upper Hill.
Their schools fees is so high that my mom can’t be able to pay all our debts. My dad died before I was born because of a certain disease.
I please ask you to help my family to pay my debts so as to reduce the costs of living to my mom.
Please help us. Thank you.
Mordecai Kiprotich- Class 5
My name is Mordecai Kiprotich and I am ten years old my home is in rift valley province and my school is also in rift valley.
I want to explain what a family is. A family is a group of people who are related together. The head of the family is father and when father is not there the head of the family shall not be here.
My family’s name is called Kirui Family and I and my family we are 6 in number. I have 5 sisters and one brother in total we add up to six.
I love my family so much and I also thank God because of helping my parent and my family to stay alive. My mother is a widow. A widow is a woman who doesn’t have a husband. So I thank God for helping my mother to pay for me school fees and bringing me to school.
I have my older sister and older brother. My older brother is still in secondary form 4 and my older sister has got married. I also have last born a girl who is in standard three who is following me and I am second last born.
My school is Bishop Colin Davis Academy in mulot division. Where I use to learn and enjoy myself by playing and reading storybooks. In this school where I am I also have a sister called Doreen Chepkirui.
My mother usually being help by my other relatives like uncle, aunt, and even the brother to my father who lives in Bomet where my father was working in.
I and my family usually go to church known as SD a where many people love because there are people who are having faithful and they believe that God is there. So I pray for my family to do good.
Doreen Chepkini-Class 8
My name is Doreen Chepkini Kinui. I am 13 years old of age. I am in class 8 in /bishop Colin Davis Academy School. My mother’s name is Emily while my late father’s name is Richard Kinui.
We are 6 children in my family. My elder sister is married followed by other 4 girls in school including me. I have 2 brothers one in secondary and the other one is in primary school. In total children in secondary are 3 while the ones in primary are 3 including me.
My mother’s career is business woman and other small jobs. My father was also in the same business before he passed away about nine years back. Ever since that day we have not been living a quite without our father. My mum have been struggling hard so as to pay our school fees despite the fact of many challenges. But anyway God has been on our side, also throughout our lives. Through determination and hardwork we have been able to make our devoted mother happy of us.
Shelia Chebet- class 8
I am called Shelia Chebet. I am a girl from B.C.D.A in standard eight. My parent’s names are Magret Kenduiywo and my late father David Kendaiywo. In my family we are five. It consists of three girls including me with two boys.
My mother is a teacher and my father was a police officer who died four years ago of throat cancer. In our family, we are very happy of my hardworking mother who has devoted herself really for the payment of our fees and as a result actually I can say she is capable.
Gilbert Towett Form 1
Dear sir/madam
I am a boy of 15 years old. I was born in the family of seven children in Kenya Narock district at Kilisu village. In our family we went to school at very late age because of poverty and having nothing hands our living standard. We had nothing to eat at some time we spend night without eating anything or sometime a very difficult job to get something to pay food.
I went to school when I was seven years old for lack of school fees. This all happen because my mother was chased away by my father, who was very drinker. My mother was also health problems and she spent all she got to pay hospital pills and for school.
I joined school because of one of a good hearted man who was living neighbor to us. I thank God for that. The man was paying my school fees primary before the government free the pupil school so that no one will be paying pupil school. I was at class one by then. I was very old at all class pupils and knowing nothing at all. I promise myself that I will do my best to come up with my fellow pupils. Therefore I worked very hard and come up with my fellow when I was at class three I became a position one. I kept on working very hard in other classes although I was facing many problems at my background.
I done the final examination in the year 2008 where I succedded by exam. I lacked the school fees to join form one. There was nobody to pay for me. This all could not give me to lose hope for anything. Instead I keep on believing in god that one day he will provide me.
I used to believe in God that I will become a doctor and there will be no longer any problem. I will live to hands my life and to help my siblings and other people in need.
I decided to repeat some class in the year 2009 at the same pupil school. Although I had several problems. After that year I passed again the examination but the problem was still the same.
In good will one of the priests of our church decided to help me to join one of their secondary schools form one this year.
Further more I would like to ask for help to pay my school fees for I to continue with my studies. My wish is to study up to higher learning and education. For I to help the needy and my world.
I promise that I will work hard all the time to succed in my studies. I will become a disciplined boy I will seek good convention in my life.
I hope to hear from you. May god bless you forever.
Yours faithfully
Gilbert Towett.
Mary Nchoe Form 1
I am a girl of age 14 years old. I have four brothers and five sisters who are older than I. both of the are the parents now. I am the only one at home who is in school.
My parent is a single family. My mother is alive and she has become very old that is not able to do any business. In 2000 I dropped out of school because of a lack of school fees and my parents were not able to look even after us because my mother was involved in drinking the wine and abuse the drugs.
We hardly had enough to eat and even to put on. One of my sister was looking after me and helped with some food, clothing and even paying school fees. Although it was for a short time.
My mother sometimes went for about four months and she didn’t left us something to eat.
So I decide to go for help and some people who belong to the church came home and brought for us the food and clothes.
When I was standard eight my sister was paying for me school fees and promised me that she will pay for me up to university but that was for a short period.
Our family was given many uncounted names and later god gave them strength.
Last year when I was in class eight we go for help there was an organization which was coming to help the orphans and disable people and our names were written down but it has fail to help. When I complete my primary education and KCPE I stayed at home almost five months at home but one thing I had was faith and prayed every day until god opened the way. I went to the Mennonite church and inform the people to help me to continue with my education.
Some of them help and other changed their mind. Surely they have helped me a lot. The Mennonite church Christian had buy for me those items but thank god those people helped me.
I came to school very late because of lack of school fees and the money that were needed to buy personal items. My sister and brothers have wealth but they fail to pay for school fees.
We are living in a house which we usually pay house rent and we don’t have some money even some times the owner chased us way during th night and there was no one to help. This year I joined the secondary school because of God’s favor. I came to school when I don’t have some personal item like a towel but later my mother brought to me. I was very happy to join bishop colin davies school I was about to loose hope and many people have gone to school I was the only one left at home. My life has changed since I joined this school. I will do my best if I only get any assistance that will be able to continue my education. I really appreciate because I am being sent home to go find bring school fees and personal items. If I get assistance I will be glad and will promise to help others in the future .
Thank you
Mary Nchoe
Cheruto Langat Daisy Form 1
I am a girl of age fourteen. I have two sisters and a brother and they are younger than me. They are both going to school.
My brother and sisters and I was born in a village called Sugutek, Keringet Location, Molo District.
My siblings and I went to Mwane primary school. When I was in class six in the year 2006 my mother got sick and unfortunately she died.
My siblings and I got taken by my mother’s sister called mary. From there we were taken by her children.
In the year 2008 I did my K.C.P.E by then my sisters mother got sick and unfortunately she dies. I never got a chance of joining form one because there was no one to pay my school fees.
I had to repeat so I repeated at Sogoo Township and did my K.C.P.E in the year 2009.
Again there was no money for my school fees but God came through a Mulot parish priest called Patrick Nkaai who offered to pay for me school fees.
My teachers and neighbors bought for me shopping to take to school.
I was welcomed though I did not have everything required for school.
The problem which I do normally encounter in school is that I sometimes back shopping to use.
I also enjoy school because I get adequate education and also because it is a place where holy place that is church is found hence giving me a holy life to live.
The importance of me being in school is to get education in order to achieve my career so as to earn myself a living in the future.
I would like to request is there is someone a good Samaritan who can help me in side of school fees, shopping and also uniform I think and hope that my dreams will come through.
I promise to work hard, achieve my goal so as to help my sibilings and other needy in the society as I am being helped.
I will be glad to hear good respond. Thank you.
Yours sincerely,
Cheruto Langat Daisy
Duncan Bosire form 1
Hi, I’m a boy of age 15 years old. I have two brothers and three sisters who are younger than me. Both of them are no longer in school because of lack of school fees. Im the only one at home whi is in school.
My parent died a few years ago –(1st April 2004)- they were involved in a road accident while going to visit my grandmother who was at that time very sick. They were admitted to a national hospital but unfortunately they passed away.
They left us alone, I as the eldest son, my siblings were now at my hands. I dropped out of school in order to take care of my siblings. Some villagers helped us with some food, clothing and even paying house rent. Although this was for a short period.
We lived a hard life, we hardly had enough to eat and even to put on. I started working in a tea plantation in order to get something to eat with my brothers and sisters.
My brother, also died three months after the death of my parents. This was agter he had only suffered for three works.
Our grandmother took us to her home. We lived there for only a few years then our aunt decided to help us because grandmother was unable to look after us proper due to her old age.
One day, I met a certain teacher and told me to go back to school because I am still young. I agreed because I knew there is no way I will succeed and bring up my siblings without education. But the problem was, “who will pay for me school fees and provide other facilities which I needed in school?”
I talked to my aunt but she refused. I left that day her house and went to grandma’s house. I told her that I wanted to go to school. She agreed and even took me to school.
I worked hard and did well on all my examination. The teachers liked me because of my discipline.
I did my Kenya National Exam in the year 2008. I was supposed to join a secondary school but I did not get school fees.
I talked to out priest who really offered to help me continue with my education. I repeated grade eight and did my national exam in the year 2009. I did very well. This year, 2010, I join a secondary school and I’m so thankful for his help.
I have seen many changes in my life since I joined this secondary school. My life has completely change and I would like to continue with this education. If I would get any assistance to enable me continue with school, I would really appreciate because sometimes you find I’m being sent to go bring school fees while others are in school, sometimes being sent to go and bring personal items books, school shoes and other things but I rarely get.
Please, if I get any assistance I will be very happy and I promise to work hard so that I may also help other in future.
Thank you
Duncan Bosire
Kennedy Lemayian- class 8
To Madame Aliya
My name is Kennedy Lemayian. I live in Narok in a place called Protian. It’s a forest.
My mom can not be able to cater for all the things I need. I have a brother staying in Nairobi. His name is Keith and he’s now in form 3 in a school called Upper Hill.
Their schools fees is so high that my mom can’t be able to pay all our debts. My dad died before I was born because of a certain disease.
I please ask you to help my family to pay my debts so as to reduce the costs of living to my mom.
Please help us. Thank you.
Mordecai Kiprotich- Class 5
My name is Mordecai Kiprotich and I am ten years old my home is in rift valley province and my school is also in rift valley.
I want to explain what a family is. A family is a group of people who are related together. The head of the family is father and when father is not there the head of the family shall not be here.
My family’s name is called Kirui Family and I and my family we are 6 in number. I have 5 sisters and one brother in total we add up to six.
I love my family so much and I also thank God because of helping my parent and my family to stay alive. My mother is a widow. A widow is a woman who doesn’t have a husband. So I thank God for helping my mother to pay for me school fees and bringing me to school.
I have my older sister and older brother. My older brother is still in secondary form 4 and my older sister has got married. I also have last born a girl who is in standard three who is following me and I am second last born.
My school is Bishop Colin Davis Academy in mulot division. Where I use to learn and enjoy myself by playing and reading storybooks. In this school where I am I also have a sister called Doreen Chepkirui.
My mother usually being help by my other relatives like uncle, aunt, and even the brother to my father who lives in Bomet where my father was working in.
I and my family usually go to church known as SD a where many people love because there are people who are having faithful and they believe that God is there. So I pray for my family to do good.
Doreen Chepkini-Class 8
My name is Doreen Chepkini Kinui. I am 13 years old of age. I am in class 8 in /bishop Colin Davis Academy School. My mother’s name is Emily while my late father’s name is Richard Kinui.
We are 6 children in my family. My elder sister is married followed by other 4 girls in school including me. I have 2 brothers one in secondary and the other one is in primary school. In total children in secondary are 3 while the ones in primary are 3 including me.
My mother’s career is business woman and other small jobs. My father was also in the same business before he passed away about nine years back. Ever since that day we have not been living a quite without our father. My mum have been struggling hard so as to pay our school fees despite the fact of many challenges. But anyway God has been on our side, also throughout our lives. Through determination and hardwork we have been able to make our devoted mother happy of us.
Shelia Chebet- class 8
I am called Shelia Chebet. I am a girl from B.C.D.A in standard eight. My parent’s names are Magret Kenduiywo and my late father David Kendaiywo. In my family we are five. It consists of three girls including me with two boys.
My mother is a teacher and my father was a police officer who died four years ago of throat cancer. In our family, we are very happy of my hardworking mother who has devoted herself really for the payment of our fees and as a result actually I can say she is capable.
Gilbert Towett Form 1
Dear sir/madam
I am a boy of 15 years old. I was born in the family of seven children in Kenya Narock district at Kilisu village. In our family we went to school at very late age because of poverty and having nothing hands our living standard. We had nothing to eat at some time we spend night without eating anything or sometime a very difficult job to get something to pay food.
I went to school when I was seven years old for lack of school fees. This all happen because my mother was chased away by my father, who was very drinker. My mother was also health problems and she spent all she got to pay hospital pills and for school.
I joined school because of one of a good hearted man who was living neighbor to us. I thank God for that. The man was paying my school fees primary before the government free the pupil school so that no one will be paying pupil school. I was at class one by then. I was very old at all class pupils and knowing nothing at all. I promise myself that I will do my best to come up with my fellow pupils. Therefore I worked very hard and come up with my fellow when I was at class three I became a position one. I kept on working very hard in other classes although I was facing many problems at my background.
I done the final examination in the year 2008 where I succedded by exam. I lacked the school fees to join form one. There was nobody to pay for me. This all could not give me to lose hope for anything. Instead I keep on believing in god that one day he will provide me.
I used to believe in God that I will become a doctor and there will be no longer any problem. I will live to hands my life and to help my siblings and other people in need.
I decided to repeat some class in the year 2009 at the same pupil school. Although I had several problems. After that year I passed again the examination but the problem was still the same.
In good will one of the priests of our church decided to help me to join one of their secondary schools form one this year.
Further more I would like to ask for help to pay my school fees for I to continue with my studies. My wish is to study up to higher learning and education. For I to help the needy and my world.
I promise that I will work hard all the time to succed in my studies. I will become a disciplined boy I will seek good convention in my life.
I hope to hear from you. May god bless you forever.
Yours faithfully
Gilbert Towett.
Mary Nchoe Form 1
I am a girl of age 14 years old. I have four brothers and five sisters who are older than I. both of the are the parents now. I am the only one at home who is in school.
My parent is a single family. My mother is alive and she has become very old that is not able to do any business. In 2000 I dropped out of school because of a lack of school fees and my parents were not able to look even after us because my mother was involved in drinking the wine and abuse the drugs.
We hardly had enough to eat and even to put on. One of my sister was looking after me and helped with some food, clothing and even paying school fees. Although it was for a short time.
My mother sometimes went for about four months and she didn’t left us something to eat.
So I decide to go for help and some people who belong to the church came home and brought for us the food and clothes.
When I was standard eight my sister was paying for me school fees and promised me that she will pay for me up to university but that was for a short period.
Our family was given many uncounted names and later god gave them strength.
Last year when I was in class eight we go for help there was an organization which was coming to help the orphans and disable people and our names were written down but it has fail to help. When I complete my primary education and KCPE I stayed at home almost five months at home but one thing I had was faith and prayed every day until god opened the way. I went to the Mennonite church and inform the people to help me to continue with my education.
Some of them help and other changed their mind. Surely they have helped me a lot. The Mennonite church Christian had buy for me those items but thank god those people helped me.
I came to school very late because of lack of school fees and the money that were needed to buy personal items. My sister and brothers have wealth but they fail to pay for school fees.
We are living in a house which we usually pay house rent and we don’t have some money even some times the owner chased us way during th night and there was no one to help. This year I joined the secondary school because of God’s favor. I came to school when I don’t have some personal item like a towel but later my mother brought to me. I was very happy to join bishop colin davies school I was about to loose hope and many people have gone to school I was the only one left at home. My life has changed since I joined this school. I will do my best if I only get any assistance that will be able to continue my education. I really appreciate because I am being sent home to go find bring school fees and personal items. If I get assistance I will be glad and will promise to help others in the future .
Thank you
Mary Nchoe
Cheruto Langat Daisy Form 1
I am a girl of age fourteen. I have two sisters and a brother and they are younger than me. They are both going to school.
My brother and sisters and I was born in a village called Sugutek, Keringet Location, Molo District.
My siblings and I went to Mwane primary school. When I was in class six in the year 2006 my mother got sick and unfortunately she died.
My siblings and I got taken by my mother’s sister called mary. From there we were taken by her children.
In the year 2008 I did my K.C.P.E by then my sisters mother got sick and unfortunately she dies. I never got a chance of joining form one because there was no one to pay my school fees.
I had to repeat so I repeated at Sogoo Township and did my K.C.P.E in the year 2009.
Again there was no money for my school fees but God came through a Mulot parish priest called Patrick Nkaai who offered to pay for me school fees.
My teachers and neighbors bought for me shopping to take to school.
I was welcomed though I did not have everything required for school.
The problem which I do normally encounter in school is that I sometimes back shopping to use.
I also enjoy school because I get adequate education and also because it is a place where holy place that is church is found hence giving me a holy life to live.
The importance of me being in school is to get education in order to achieve my career so as to earn myself a living in the future.
I would like to request is there is someone a good Samaritan who can help me in side of school fees, shopping and also uniform I think and hope that my dreams will come through.
I promise to work hard, achieve my goal so as to help my sibilings and other needy in the society as I am being helped.
I will be glad to hear good respond. Thank you.
Yours sincerely,
Cheruto Langat Daisy
Duncan Bosire form 1
Hi, I’m a boy of age 15 years old. I have two brothers and three sisters who are younger than me. Both of them are no longer in school because of lack of school fees. Im the only one at home whi is in school.
My parent died a few years ago –(1st April 2004)- they were involved in a road accident while going to visit my grandmother who was at that time very sick. They were admitted to a national hospital but unfortunately they passed away.
They left us alone, I as the eldest son, my siblings were now at my hands. I dropped out of school in order to take care of my siblings. Some villagers helped us with some food, clothing and even paying house rent. Although this was for a short period.
We lived a hard life, we hardly had enough to eat and even to put on. I started working in a tea plantation in order to get something to eat with my brothers and sisters.
My brother, also died three months after the death of my parents. This was agter he had only suffered for three works.
Our grandmother took us to her home. We lived there for only a few years then our aunt decided to help us because grandmother was unable to look after us proper due to her old age.
One day, I met a certain teacher and told me to go back to school because I am still young. I agreed because I knew there is no way I will succeed and bring up my siblings without education. But the problem was, “who will pay for me school fees and provide other facilities which I needed in school?”
I talked to my aunt but she refused. I left that day her house and went to grandma’s house. I told her that I wanted to go to school. She agreed and even took me to school.
I worked hard and did well on all my examination. The teachers liked me because of my discipline.
I did my Kenya National Exam in the year 2008. I was supposed to join a secondary school but I did not get school fees.
I talked to out priest who really offered to help me continue with my education. I repeated grade eight and did my national exam in the year 2009. I did very well. This year, 2010, I join a secondary school and I’m so thankful for his help.
I have seen many changes in my life since I joined this secondary school. My life has completely change and I would like to continue with this education. If I would get any assistance to enable me continue with school, I would really appreciate because sometimes you find I’m being sent to go bring school fees while others are in school, sometimes being sent to go and bring personal items books, school shoes and other things but I rarely get.
Please, if I get any assistance I will be very happy and I promise to work hard so that I may also help other in future.
Thank you
Duncan Bosire
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