Finding My Stride

Every time I stand still or sit down, I am covered with kids who want to sit with me, touch my hair, or hold my hand. This was during a break from a game of catch with the American football I brought for them.

I am exhausted! I don’t know if I can keep up with these kids; they just go and go, bless their hearts. This week was a great one, full of excitement and new experiences, obviously. We started both the after school speed and strength training program and the early morning running program in the past few days. Welcoming each day by running along a dusty road with a group of smiling kids and taking in the accompanying African sunrise is something I could really get used to. I hope I can get used to the altitude, as well. The town of Ilula sits at an elevation of over 7,000 feet, approximately 7,000 feet higher than the elevation I have lived at my entire life. As I’m sure all of you know, increased elevation equals decreased oxygen concentration in the atmosphere. I’m not sure of the exact equation in terms of oxygen availability as related to elevation, but I can tell you that my lungs and the rest of my body were feeling the effects of whatever that equation is. We ran about 6 kilometers (a little over 4 miles) and I could not keep up with this group of 12-15 year old boys the last half, as my lungs felt like they were on the verge of exploding. The good news is that I recovered fairly quickly and made it to breakfast in one piece. Also good news is that the human body is an incredible machine in terms of adaption to demands placed on it. I should be able to keep up in another week of consistent running. The initial attempt at the after school training program was also an interesting experience, as I think it was the first introduction of organized training for all of the kids involved. I had designed a dynamic warm-up that should have taken about 5 minutes to get through, leaving us time to do push-up and sit-up tests, and an 800m time trial. It took 15 minutes just to get the group together and in organized lines, followed by another 25 minutes to understand the spacing and timing of a team oriented warm-up. This left us barely enough time to do a push-up test. Oh, did I forget to mention that we were weaving through a similarly disorganized soccer game the whole time? I told the teachers afterwards that the kids may not be interested in organized training, just playing for fun, and that I would hate to ruin their zeal for sports themselves, but was assured over and over that the kids were very excited to learn how to train. It will be a grueling process, but it will be worth it for those of them that want to pursue competitive sports in the future.

About 12 times per day the kids will ask me either to run with them or to set up a race for them. This is a race down the entrance to the home during our nightly cleaning duties, just before dinner. Notice the huge white smile on each one of their faces.

My schedule is a bit more filled and organized now than it was a week ago. I told everyone that I want to find ways to get involved and assist them, especially during the big block of down time I have between breakfast and lunch. Thankfully, everyone said they had plenty for me to do. Here is what my standard weekday looks like now:

6am – running with the kids;

6:30am –breakfast with the kids

7:30am –return to my hut to relax and read

9am – work in the garden

10am – help cut vegetables for dinner in the kitchen

11am – assist the training staff in whatever they are doing (groups, landscaping, feeding the animals…)

1pm – lunch with the kids

2pm – return to my hut to relax and read

3:15pm – after school training

4:15pm – chores and play time with the kids

6pm – devotions with the kids

7pm – dinner with the kids

8pm – evening chai and conversation with David and Prescah (my parents here)

Obviously this schedule is flexible, but as you can see I am getting a variety of experiences and a lot of opportunities to learn about life here in Kenya. The conversations I have during these activities are invaluable in terms of learning about ways to help change the future for impoverished people in this region. The weekends offer more of the same, but with much more free time to play games with the kids, which it my absolute favorite thing to do. I have taught them how to play four-square and American football, both of which they can’t seem to get enough of, and taught them how to construct a sun dial. They have taught me how to milk a cow and speak limited Kiswahili (I have about 50 phrases and words memorized at this point, thanks to them). I really wish I could describe how great the kids here are, how much fun I have with them, and what an inspiration to me they all are.

My first attempt at milking a cow, with the help of Mary and Jonah, two of the parents here, and a number of the children. As you can tell by the look on my face, it took a lot of concentration.

I have to tell you about an experience l had last night, which is one I am almost certain will never be had again in my life. David and I were having our evening chai and sharing a pleasant conversation, when Prescah stormed into the room and excitedly said something in Kiswahili. Next thing I knew I was running alongside David, with only the understanding that a cow was somehow related to our sudden sprint. I naturally concluded that one of the three dairy cows they have here had escaped its shelter, and it was up to us to corral it. Once I got there and realized the source of the panic, I wished we were there just to round up an escaped cow. We were among the first to arrive on the scene and see that somehow one of the cows had fallen into one of the feeding troughs and was lodged there on its side, which was limiting its ability to breath. It was letting out desperate MOO’s, leaving me covering my ears while scratching my head. How in the world are we supposed to get this giant, terrified, and uncooperative animal out of the trough? While I was still pondering this seemingly impossible task, three of the men on staff had jumped into the stable and were tugging on the cows front legs and exposed ear, to no avail. Within a few minutes, all the children had arrived and were screaming and poking their heads in to get a view of what was causing the madness, which only added to the feeling of panic. Finally someone arrived with a rope, which was tied around the cow’s two rear legs. While a team of about 5 people towed its back legs with the rope, others pulled its front legs and ear, while still others used boards as wedges to hoist the heavy, dead-weight animal out of the trough. It got right side up and freed its back legs, which were still tied together, from the trough, and then stumbled around for a few minutes before excitedly returning to the trough to eat the food it had just nearly lost its life laying on top of. I couldn’t help but admire its resiliency. The men told me that this same situation had happened a couple years prior, and that the cow in the previous instance was not as fortunate – It suffocated. Once they told me that, I realized why they had responded they way they did. Cows are not only expensive and a source of nutrition for the children here, but in Kalenjin (the main tribe in this area) culture, they are prized possessions, the ownership of which families base their wealth upon, so I am happy to report that they cow is alive and well today.

The children love playing American football. They will run routes for hours while I play quarterback. In the back you can see a competitive game of four-square on the basketball court at the children’s home. They also love this game, and you should see how dirty they are after playing just for a few minutes.

That just about sums up my week; I suppose it wasn’t a whole lot different than any of yours, but thanks for reading about it anyway. I have about 8 more weeks here, and a whole lot more to do and learn, so staying present is vital. Along the way the past six months, I have fallen into the trap of fantasizing about being back at home and comfortable with my friends and family, but this only leads to sadness and ineffectiveness wherever I am physically. During the past couple weeks, I have felt myself on the verge of that again. I am doing my best to fight it and mentally stay here, which is helped dramatically by my busy schedule, but I would appreciate any prayers you could send my way to help with that. I think as the time for my return becomes nearer and nearer, that battle will become tougher and tougher, even though I am having the time of my life and wouldn’t trade this experience for anything. This is what makes life worth living, right? Have a great week, everyone, and for goodness sakes, if you come across a cow stuck in a feeding trough, get some rope, a couple of boards, and rally everyone within earshot to get it back on its feet.