Each Day is a Gift

Me with the family I stayed with in Kamwago. Samuel is on the far right. He has remained sober for more than a month now; it is so great to see how his life, and his family’s, has improved as a result.

At this time I am happily able to report that I am in a much better physical state than I was last time, and I am also much more African. I spent yesterday and last night living authentic Kenya village life with the family of one of the men who graduated from the Kenya Anti-Alcoholics Program the first week I was here. Samuel had been inviting me to his home for weeks, and yesterday I finally had the opportunity to take him up on his offer, an opportunity I did not want to squander. After participating in a fundraiser for a local preschool, I met Samuel’s family, which includes his wife, three children, and some other young relatives, upon arrival at his home. I was taken by his children to a view point to see the Kerio Valley, and then enjoyed a nice meal of ugali, cabbage, lamb, and fresh milk with the whole family, before finally retiring to a mud hut with for a good night’s sleep with the background noise of rain falling on the grass roof . I was told the hut was the young men’s hut, which is traditionally where sons in a family live once they pass through their initiation into manhood, a process that involves living in the bush for a mon th and killing a lion. Lucky for me, I was granted an exemption and was allowed to sleep there for the night without officially becoming a man. Though this experience was brief, it helped me to gain a lot of understanding and perspective on life in this country, as well as my current living situation. Despite the fact that I lack almost all amenities of American homes, save running water and electricity, I really am living quite well by rural African standards. My room has a tile floor, a real mattress, a functional door and window, and a ceiling height that allows me to stand up straight. I hope that I never lose this perspective, even as I return to America, where it is so easy to complain about even the slightest inconvenience. I was told that I was the first American to stay with a family in the village, and that the entire population of Kamwago felt very privileged when they heard of my stay. As we walked through the village, children either ran away or stared, and adults excitedly introduced themselves.

Evans and I getting after it in the shamba (garden or farm), while Edwin and Collins look on. The rains finally arrived last week, though I was told they aren’t the “real rains” yet, which allowed us to begin planting. I have never seen a group of people so excited about rain in my entire life.

Part of me was happy to be able to give them something to be excited and feel honored about, but most of me was uncomfortable with how much they were excited and honored simply because of the color of my skin and the country of my birth. I have had conversations with a lot of young Kenyans in the past couple weeks about their impression of America and Americans, and almost without fail the first thing they tell me is that America is like heaven and that all Americans are incredibly wealthy. While trying not to dash their optimistic vision, I tell them that America has problems, just like all countries do, and that there are a lot of people living there who are really struggling. They find it hard to believe that there is poverty, homelessness, and other problems in “The Land of Opportunity.” I’m not sure if other Americans they have met have either confirmed these totally off base notions, or simply remained quiet about the truth, but I feel it is part of my duty to give them an accurate picture of life where I come from, just as they are doing for me. I do totally understand why they think the way they do about America, because up until my arrival here I had a vision of Africa as one huge safari with wild animals and traditional tribes, as the Discovery Channel and National Geographic show us. Just as I did in Central America, I tell them to be proud of where they come from and the life they live here. Even though there are undoubtedly problems that must be fixed, there are certainly many aspects of life in Africa that I am certain Americans could benefit from. So, I told them that they are giving me, and every other Mzungu, too much credit, because where we come from is no more our choice or accomplishment than where they come from is theirs. They always seemed shocked to hear this from me, but I’m hoping they take it to heart and apply it in the beneficial ways I intend them to.

Dorcas and Mercy washing their hair during laundry/bath time.

This morning, as I was riding back to Ilula in a matatu (a smaller version of our 15-passenger vans, which make up the vast majority of the public transportation fleet) with literally 25 other passengers, including three men hanging on the outside, I had a moment where I mentally stepped back and realized where I was and what I was doing. I started to laugh as I thought about how unlikely it was that I would be sitting in that matatu after staying in Kamwago the night before. I thought about all the other experiences of the previous seven months, and compared them with what I imagined I would have been doing had I not answered the call of this journey. As I reach about the 75% point of the overall journey, despite all the incredible challenges I have been through, I consider myself extremely fortunate to have had those opportunities to grow and learn. When I return to America, I will have practical knowledge and perspectives that not a lot of Americans will ever have the chance to gain, let alone at the age of 25. Lately, I have been listening to a song by my favorite band, O.A.R., called “Gift,” in which the main theme is that each day is a gift. That theme is presenting itself in very tangible ways for me, especially the past couple weeks. If you have been reading my blog, you know that the first few weeks here were very psychologically challenging for me in many ways, even to the point where I was just wishing the days would go by faster so I could return home sooner, but now my outlook has been changed and I am cherishing each day. It is a gift to sleep in a mud hut and get to know a family in a rural Kenya village, over a meal that would be considered tasteless by most Americans. It is a gift to sit in a tiny, dirty hut and get to know the life of someone suffering from AIDS. It is a gift to spend Christmas with a family in the mountains of Central Guatemala, which I am completely unable to verbally communicate with. It is a gift to learn what life is like for a homeless person in New York City, and, therefore, how to best help them. It is a gift to wake up and spend each day with 100 of the cutest kids on the planet, playing games, imparting what little knowledge I have on them, and preparing them for the longest running race of their lives.

Me trying to get out of a traditional Pocot home. The people of the Pocot tribe settle in one place for no more than a few months at a time, so they don’t spend a lot of energy or resources on their homes.

As I go forward from here, I hope and pray that this outlook remains, just as I hope and pray it does for all of you in your daily lives. I think the next week will be fairly low key for me, as I will be around the home for the most part. My main task this week is to plan everything for the big sports day on April 25th, so it will go smoothly and offer nothing but fun and growth for the kids. Thank you all for your support and prayers, especially for my back health, which I think is slowly on its way back to normal. In the past week, I have been able to spend more time doing some exercises and stretches that have allowed it to release little by little. I will go back to see the physiotherapist to get another very painful muscle release massage this week, and hopefully will return to normal by next week, just in time for my trip to Uganda. Other than that, I will continue to learn as much as I can about life here and appropriate development programs, and, of course, play with the kids as much as I possibly can. Be good to yourselves and those around you, and please remember that each day is a gift for each and every one of us.

A group of women at the engagement party last weekend. This is the traditional gift-giving song and dance routine, which last about 20 minutes, as they each personally give their gift to the bride-to-be.