On the Mend

So yet again on Tuesday night, I had trouble sleeping. One of Michael's neighbors had been making bricks all day, and then some of the workers listened to the radio all night as they burned the bricks. I woke up early on Wednesday, feeling sick again. So, I skipped out on the chai and fried pastries, and made myself some oatmeal. I still felt waves of nausea throughout the day. What I would have done for a popsicle!

Then it dawned on me. I must be suffering from mild altitude sickness. It makes sense since we had just been in the lowlands of Ombolion last week. The sudden change in altitude, and then back again (even though Kapenguria only sits at an altitude of a little over 2,000 meters) must have been enough to set it off. When Longiman was here, he kept asking me for Tylenol, so I wouldn't be surprised if he wasn't suffering from some symptoms of altitude sickness as well.

I remembered my cousin, David, once suffered the same when working at a camp in Colorado one summer. He increased his sodium intake and felt much better. So, last night, I sprinkled some salt on my dinner (which I haven't been doing at all), took some Tylenol PM and then slept for 12 hours. When I woke up this morning, I didn't feel sick.

I made some more oatmeal this morning (this time with some salt) to go alongside some chai. I've been feeling much better today.

Along with feeling better, and taking an hour-long nap later on in the day, I had a fully charged computer, and finally got some typing done.

It's almost dinner time, and I am craving a cheesy deep-dish pizza...my body must still be needing more sodium... Unfortunately, the closest pizza place, I'm sure, is Nairobi...and even then, it probably doesn't taste the same.

Tomorrow is the halfway mark for my trip. In just under 4 weeks, I will be home. Not that I'm counting down yet, but I have daily reminders that are also reaching the halfway point...my malaria medicine, my shampoo and other toiletries, even my notebooks. It's hard not to notice my crossing from coming to going.

Well, when I do get home, Luke, I would ask that you have a Hot-n-Ready waiting at the airport, but I'm afraid it would be cold by the time I could enjoy it. So, why don't you map out the closest pizza place to the airport for a quick stop on the way home.

Bittersweet Dreams

Well, it's been a rough few days. It must have been late, late Thursday night when we got back from Ombolion. The Pokot leader, Longiman, who accompanied us to the peace meeting decided to come all the way to Kapenguria in order to do some business in town. As a result, Michael's daughter, Milka (visiting from school), slept in my room. The poor girl got sick and threw up at around 5:30 the next morning. After fetching her some water and some medicine to calm her stomach, I was wide awake, so I decided to go ahead and start my day.

Saturday morning was bittersweet. I got up and made oatmeal for Michael's family and Longiman. It was Longiman's first time to have oatmeal, and he seemed to enjoy it. Then Michael, Angelina, Longiman, Peter, and Lomaler broke out singing traditional Pokot songs that recount historical events significant to the Pokot. Pokot is an oral culture, so it was pretty cool to witness one of the ways stories are passed from one generation to the next.

Then, Longiman decided to leave for his long journey back to Ombolion. By car, this trip takes about 4 hours. My guess is that it would take about 20 hours for Longiman to walk. This didn't seem like a big deal to him...walking is usually how he gets anywhere. He explained to me (through Michael) that because he doesn't know Swahili (he only speaks Pokot), he wasn't counting on being able to ask to hitch a ride from anyone along the way. So, with a simple handshake and head nod, Longiman was out the door and on his way home.

I realized then, that it wasn't hard for me to leave Ombolion earlier that week since Longiman was coming with us to Kapenguria, but when Longiman left, it was like saying goodbye to the entire village. Although I was only in Ombolion for a short time, so much happened, and I was able to connect with so many people despite the language barrier. As my mother observed, I think I left my heart in Ombolion. And I very much want to go back some day (if not later this trip!).

On Sunday night, it rained, and I mean a full-out thunderstorm. My first real rain in Kenya. And I got to enjoy every minute of it thanks to the tin roof over my head. It started at around 12:30am and didn't let up until around 3:00am.

So, I eventually pulled out my computer and queued up some Brett Tyler on iTunes, which helped me at least relax and rest, despite not sleeping. Even though the rain had interrupted my sleep, I was looking forward to what this rain meant...the start of the rainy season in Kenya. The drought will soon be over! (Coincidentally, after writing this blog, I remembered Brett's album is also called Bittersweet.)

In the morning, I discovered that the electricity was out. This happens from time to time for maybe 2 or 3 hours. But I found out later from Angelina that it is quite common for electrical outages to last much longer during the rainy season. Well, it lasted until 8:30pm Monday night...and because I used most of my computer's battery life to listen to music the night before, it meant that I couldn't do all of the typing I had planned to do...compiling notes and survey responses...

On the bright side, I finally had time to explore Kapenguria with Nelly. We did some grocery shopping and stopped at some traditional Pokot jewelry shops. Then it started raining again!

Thankfully, Nathan Roberts suggested I bring some stuff to do to kill time...stuff that I didn't have to rely on electricity for. So, I sat down and opened The DaVinci Code....and then some time later, finished reading The DaVinci Code...

Early this morning, I woke up not feeling very well. I don't think it's technically something I ate. I think it is a combination of the sudden change in weather, along with the excessive amount of milk and fried foods I've been eating, thanks to the Kenyan diet. It simply amounted to yet more restlessness.

But today was very important, so I had to press on. Today, there was a meeting concerning county government due to the new Kenyan constitution. A task force from Nairobi led the meeting, intending to receive feedback from established organizations and groups in the area, as well as the general public on their criteria and thoughts concerning the "devolution" of county government. I think they got what they needed. The meeting lasted 5 hours...

Originally scheduled to begin at 9:00am, Michael thought it would be best if we went at 10:00am...at 10:20am, when we arrived, the event crew was in the middle of setting up the chairs in Mtelo Hall and only a handful of people were already there. The meeting didn't start until 11:40am; by then, there were about 300 people in the audience, both men and women. Here are some pictures.

Inside Mtelo Hall. Note, it was named after the Pokot's holy mountain.

In the middle of the conference, a woman came up to me and put this
traditional Pokot beaded necklace and headband on me. She said it was from
Michael, but then Michael said another woman was so excited to see me there,
that it was a gift from her. Whatever the story, I have some cool jewelry now.

After the meeting, the District Commissioner from the Alale area of Pokot, along with a Nairobi representative who served as the Master of Ceremonies came and greeted me. The District Commissioner was pleased to find out that Michael and I will be visiting Alale, probably sometime next week.

It's only 7:00pm now, but I feel like taking a nap!

The Doctor Is In

In grade school, my teacher shared an analogy to help us remember the difference in spelling dessert and desert. "You need more S's in dessert than desert. Just as you will always ask for more dessert than you would for desert." As a child, I took her word for it. Now, having trudged through the hot, sandy, dry and dusty plains of Ombolion, I can confidently agree with Mrs. Petersen. Bring on the dessert! I think the flies were my least favorite, but the constant stench of cow, camel and goat dung is a close second. 

We learned when we arrived that the village of Ombolion was forced to move within just the past few weeks due to the lack of water and grass for their animals. As a result, no permanent housing or fencing had yet been established in their new location, a mere five kilometers from their old homestead. And just one week ago, the Turkana raided and took much of their cattle. These are hard times for the Ombolion Pokot. 

There was a lot of excitement and curiosity when we pulled up in Michael's Toyota truck. But Michael was exhausted from driving, and Peter, being that he is originally from Ombolion, was pulled in many directions as friends were demanding that he tell them stories of his adventures in Kapenguria and Nairobi. Earlier in the week, Nelly was feeling homesick, so I told Michael she should go home for a few days. That left me in the midst of a very large group of women and children, playing charades, trying to understand each other. I'm beginning to pick up some Pokot, but am no where near able to converse freely.

With the women.

I managed okay on my own, though. Some of the children, I noticed, had small booklets of notebook paper. I gently gestured towards one child, asking to see one of the books. It was full of the letters of the alphabet and numbers she had handwritten in pencil. On many of the pages, there were check marks, fractions, and "good job" written in pen. I looked up at one of the mothers and asked, 

"So do they go to school?"

"Ssh-kool, ssh-kool," she nodded her head and made a sweeping motion over the children's heads.

"Where do they go to school?" I looked as if searching the horizon to emphasize "where" and "school." Another mother pointed in a direction somewhere behind me.

One child came up to me and recited the ABCs and then counted to 100, to which I responded with applause. So then we sang the ABC song together (which he didn't know, but he rattled off the letters just the same).

One woman wanted medicine, so I gave her Tylenol...and then more wanted medicine. I gave out Pepto Bismol and more Tylenol depending on where they pointed on their body. Placebos. The strongest medicine for this part of the world, where no hospital will brave the harsh conditions. At one point, Peter came up to me and said, 

Yes, I am wearing gloves.

"Recho, Recho," (this is the Pokot version of my name) "this man needs some medicine," and then pointed to a man 30 yards away.

"What are his symptoms?" I asked.

"Just look and see. See if you can't tell." 

My travel clinic. Two folding chairs and first-aid kit.

As the man came nearer, I saw a 5-inch infected gash on his shin that had partially healed. I learned later (as I cleaned the wound with antiseptic, then smeared antibiotic cream on it and bandaged it) that he got the gash from a tree about one month ago. I made a similar bandage for a boy the next morning who is suffering from some disease affecting his shin bones. He was in a lot of pain, wailing in pain, and had to be held down by two men in order for me to secure the bandage. I gave him two Tylenol and found him a few hours later under a tree, rather lethargic.

"Takweny?" How are you doing? I asked and pointed to the bandage.

"Epa," Fine, he mumbled.

"Karam. Karam." Good. Good. I replied.

Is it dead yet?

The night we arrived, the village's fattest goat was slaughtered in our honor. Michael actually did the stabbing. That goat took a long time to die, in my opinion. It kept wanting to roll over, which no one would allow, as they didn't want the wound to get dirty with sand. The goat lay still for a few minutes, still breathing hard, so all of the men went and sat to wait for it to die. I stayed within a few yards of it. So, when it lurched and attempted to roll over again, I was the one who had to flip it back over, and then held its hind leg until it finally died.

Meanwhile, the men were building a fire and creating a table of leafy tree branches, fashioning them to face their holy mountain, Mt. Mtelo. From what I can tell, Mt. Mtelo is like the Christian Mt. Sinai, where they believe God has made a presence. Before the 

The leafy table and prayer circle.

goat was divided among the men gathered there, an elder led a prayer, a call and response, where the men chanted in unison. Michael quoted the Bible later, saying that they believe "For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them," suggesting that the men are simply chanting in agreement to what the elder prays, in order to fulfill the message of this Bible verse. 

Some elders have explained to me that before the missionaries came to Kenya, the Pokot already knew the stories about the parting of the Red Sea and the slaves leaving Egypt that are mentioned in the Bible. These stories were passed down orally from generation to generation, telling the story of where the Pokot came from before they found themselves in northwest Kenya.

The morning after the sacrifice of the goat, Michael tapped on the window of the truck (where I was sleeping in the backseat) to tell me that men are gathering for an early morning meeting, and do I want to go? I looked at my watch. It was just after 6:00am. My student self knew I should go, but my pampered self really needed another hour to sleep. So, I gave myself a silent pep talk about why I was way out in the middle of nowhere, and climbed out of the truck, put on my hiking boots, and followed Michael for...I don't know, one or two kilometers maybe, until we reached the "early morning meeting" spot where the meeting was just about to start. They primarily discussed where to take the cattle for pasture, and that there would be a peace meeting with the Turkana later that day, which would be a good three or four hour walk for those who would attend.

At the morning meeting.

My mouth began to salivate. A peace meeting between the Pokot and Turkana!? Later that morning, after Michael confirmed it would be safe, he informed me we would be going. Unfortunately, I couldn't take pictures because Michael did not want anyone getting nervous or uncomfortable, but it was incredible!

A Pokot leader, who is very well respected by both the Pokot and Turkana, arrived with us (by truck) to insure we would be received well. Near the end of the ceremony, Michael and I, the "foreigners," were invited to speak. So, I stood in front of 500 nomadic men in faux army attire, and 300 women and children (who had been shooed away earlier in the ceremony) and told them how honored I was to be present at such an important occasion, and congratulated them on putting aside their differences to make the challenging times they are facing with draught, hunger, and illness better. I incorporated a few key references to what some of the speakers said earlier on, and everyone applauded. And later, the Pokot leader riding in the back of our truck told me people said they were impressed with my bravery, a woman, standing up to address them.

Here is a picture of me and Mt. Mtelo. Michael said it is going to go on the jacket of the book he says I will one day publish about the Pokot.

Modern and Traditional

Me with the oldest woman in Ombolion.