Reflections

Well, I have been back from my trip to Kenya for a little over 2 months now. I meant to write a blog post about my reverse culture shock when I got back, but between the jet lag and getting back into regular life, I just didn’t have the drive to do it.

I’m going to be straight with you. This message is a request for donations to Daylight Center and School, mixed in with some key reflections on my trip. If you don’t have time or want to spend the time reading this, then please simply make a tax-deductible donation to Daylight. A one-time gift of $100 will go really far right now for Daylight’s development, but any amount, no matter how small, is appreciated.

If you are already a Daylight donor, then thank you! Please enjoy some of the stories about how your donations are impacting the children and communities of rural Kenya. Please also share these stories with your friends and family who may be interested in supporting Daylight.

* * *

It was week 6 of my 7-week trip in Kenya, and I was getting discouraged. I had the rare privilege of speaking with respected leaders in some of the most marginalized and hardest-to-reach places in rural Kenya. After many conversations, I had trouble accepting Daylight’s mission. These rural communities need help to come out to them, and I couldn't understand why Daylight decided to locate in an area that already had primary schools.

When I asked the rural, nomadic leaders how the Kenya government was working in their communities, they would ask “What government?” or say “I’ve heard of this thing called government, but have not seen it.”

They explained the issues of draught, hunger, and disease in their communities. I asked them whom they held responsible for fixing these issues. They responded by pointing to me, and asking me where the missionaries went (the British colonizers who left when Kenya became independent 50 years ago).

These people live in desert-like conditions and “subsistence farm” by raising cattle, goats, and camels. A person eats, on average, once per day. That meal consists of about 1 cup of milk taken from their livestock. Animal meat is only consumed for special occasions, such as during my visits.

In fact, during my visit in Alale, I was presented with the community’s fattest goat. And as the guest of honor, it was my duty to slaughter the goat, which meant slitting the goat’s throat. Fortunately, I’m not vegetarian, but I have never had to slaughter my food before eating it. I only wish my knife hadn’t been so dull!

There are a number of reasons why the nomads do not eat meat more often. Here are a few:

1. There is no monetary currency in these rural areas. How much livestock a person has is the only thing that identifies his wealth. 
2. They are concerned that if they eat meat more often, they would consume more than what could be reproduced. 
1. Lack in medicine means animal diseases can suddenly and greatly reduce the size of a person’s livestock. 
2. Cattle rustling (which is the raiding and stealing of livestock back and forth between neighboring tribes) can also suddenly diminish the size of a person’s livestock. 
3. They value and rely upon other resources the living animals provide, such as milk. 

Cattle rustling, mentioned in 2b above, is the sole cause for insecurity in the rural areas of Kenya. Some members of each tribe are “cattle rustlers,” meaning they carry semi-automatic rifles and wear faux-army fatigues to “protect” their community’s livestock when it is grazing. The reality is that these cattle rustlers do not only protect, they might also raid a neighboring tribe’s community for its livestock if due to draught, disease, or even a raid upon itself, its own livestock is depleted.

These rural communities take hours to drive to get to from Kapenguria, where Daylight Center and School is located. One community I visited was Ombolion, a 5-hour drive; and Alale was an 8-hour drive. Baringo was about a 6-hour drive, and I stopped there on my initial trip from Nairobi to Kapenguria.

In Baringo, I met a mother whose 3- or 4-year-old son has deformed feet. She had to carry him down from the hills into the valley where they would water their goats. She explained that it is hard for him to walk on the rocky terrain. Michael Kimpur, my driver and translator, and the director of Daylight Center and School, told her that her son was a good candidate to attend the school. She smiled and said that it would be an answer to prayer for her son to attend school.

Michael explained to me that because the boy is disabled, he would not survive in the rough conditions of the nomadic lifestyle. The mother was unusually willing to send her son to school. Because without much contact with the outside world, or having educated community members, these nomads are unwilling to give up the life they know (no matter how harsh) for these “fairy tales” about school. But in situations where a child is disabled and cannot physically help care for the livestock, the community does not have anything to lose by sending the disabled child to school.

Daylight’s vision is for these children to return to the uneducated areas they came from to help explain that there is another way of life, one that does not include cattle rustling, and that, in fact, there are many other ways to make a living.

But this process is oh so sloooow! We met this boy during week 1 of my trip. At the time I left Kenya, Michael was still in the process of confirming approval with the local government so that he could take custody of the boy from Baringo. And he is just 1 boy. And there is need for enlightenment in these rural communities now!

These people only do what they know, which is raise cows, goats, and camels. Some understand they need clinics and schools, but they have no way of creating these things themselves. Yet, they do what they can.

One village I came upon near Kechaliba dug an 8- to 10-foot hole in the ground: the beginnings of an outhouse. The government promised that they will send someone with cement to complete the outhouse, as well as a school structure. This community outside of Kechaliba finished digging this outhouse over 6 months before my visit. They were still waiting for the government to send someone to finish construction.

Sadly, even if construction were to be completed on the schoolhouse outside Kechaliba, it is not likely the school would have even one teacher, government-issued or otherwise, due to the tragic living conditions in these rural areas.

*     *     * 

It was week 6 of my 7-week trip in Kenya, and I was on my way to a government-hosted peace meeting between the Pokot and Turkana tribes. A government official hitched a ride in Michael’s truck with us. As we passed over the “border” between Pokot and Turkana, the officer, who spoke some English, explained to me that he had just heard of a cattle-rustling incident along this border area. The Turkana slaughtered a Pokot cattle rustler, a boy, during the raid. At this point in the trip, I had become desensitized by the facts of cattle rustling; so many are wounded or die in the process. I didn’t think anything special of this incident; it might as well have happened in Iran or Egypt…or Antarctica.

But on the way back from the peace meeting, we were flagged down by a group of young women near a “rest stop,” a place to buy warm soda and cell phone minutes.

A man approached and began speaking with Michael, jovially. The women gathered on my side of the truck, the passenger side. An older woman began speaking with the government official sitting behind me. At first, she seemed to be complaining about something. He was a government official after all, so I assumed she was pressing him for better and fair corn distribution in order to subside their hunger.

As the conversation continued though, she became more distraught. The government official leaned forward and said, “Rachel, this woman. This woman is the mother of the boy who was slaughtered in that valley we passed.” The woman then turned to me and began explaining her distress to me too. Even though there was a language barrier that separated us, I did not need to know the words she was saying to understand her.

She began to weep, and then wail. And then she stumbled away into a nearby field where she collapsed.

All I could think about was how this woman’s son had been violently slaughtered. Slaughtered. Not unlike how I had slaughtered a goat earlier that week. Not only had the Turkana killed her son, but they most likely took all of the livestock the boy was caring for as well. The woman lost her son, and her wealth.

I dug in my jacket pocket for 1000 Kenyan Shillings, about $12 (which would be about the same as me giving you $50 USD). Then I opened my car door and slowly walked out to the spot in the field where the woman was lying in a fetal position, still wailing.

Pole, Mama. Pole. I said, which simply means, “I’m sorry, Mother. I’m sorry.” (Every woman in Pokot, regardless of whether they have children, is referred to as Mother.) I held her hand and placed the KShs 1000 bill in it. Then I just sat and wept with her.

Michael later told me that the woman was saying she only had one son left, and was so bitter with grief that she wanted to commit suicide. Michael encouraged the group of women to take care of her and help her through this difficult time.

As we continued on our journey back to Kapenguria, I had an epiphany about Daylight. Daylight can not go out into these rural areas and start schools there, because it isn’t safe. Just as I saw in Kechaliba, it is not likely teachers from the urban areas will be willing to go and brave the conditions of the rural areas. Before schools and aid organizations can reach out to the rural areas, the issue of insecurity must first be resolved. And Daylight is doing just that, in the safety of Kapenguria.

Although it is a slow process, Daylight, with financial support, is going out to these rural areas and bringing children to Daylight. Because these children grew up in these rural areas and have loved ones still living there, they are more likely (than urban teachers) to return to the rural areas in order to pay-it-forward and educate their communities on other ways to make a living and change the devastating effects of cattle rustling. These children will bring peace to their communities, because Daylight enrolls children from all tribes. These children come to Daylight and create friendships with children from other tribes. When the children return to their tribes, these friendships influence peaceful communities.

Please make a donation now to Daylight and its strategic, grassroots process for bringing peace and education to the overlooked and marginalized areas of Kenya. Visit Daylight’s donation page to learn how to make a tax-deductible donation.

If you are interested in becoming a regular donor, know that it costs about $40 each month for a child to attend Daylight. That cost includes room and board, clothing, healthcare, school supplies, and tuition. Otherwise, a one-time-gift of $100 would go really far to continue Daylight’s development, but all donations, no matter how small are so appreciated.

Thank you so much for listening to my stories and reflections from my trip. Please contact me or post a comment to this blog if you have questions or would like to know more about my trip.

Faces

Tomorrow I get on a plane and begin my 24-hour journey back to Minnesota. In tribute, here are some of the faces of the people I have had to say my goodbyes to, the people I call family and friends in Kenya.

Host Family

Left to Right: Chepkite, Michael, Joshua, Chenangat, Yatich,

Angelina, and Chesang. Thank you for your extended
hospitality: for the roof over my head, for delicious home-
cooked meals, for your time, and most especially,
your patience.

Sister and Brothers

Nelly. Such a gracious young woman.

Peter, with his youngest daughter who came to visit with Peter's wife after we

returned from Alale. I had only just learned in Alale that he is in fact married and
has 5 children!

Lomaler. He loves listening to this radio. Lomaler doesn't know English, but

while in Alale, I started to teach him English, and he began teaching me Pokot.

This came in handy when both Peter and Michael would leave me in the care of
Lomaler. And the day I got really sick from eating goat, he tried making me feel
better by reciting the English words I taught him.

Nephew?

Longoria. A dear friend. Like Lomaler, he doesn't know

English, but somehow we managed to communicate anyway.

He kept calling me komama, his aunt, and more specifically,

his mother's brother's wife. This is because Longoria's father

is Pokot, and his mother is Karamojen which means that in
Pokot terms, his mother is considered a foreigner. Michael
further explained that he wasn't identifying me as the foreigner
(at this point in the trip, people were saying I am now a Pokot),
but that Luke is the foreigner, along with Longoria's mother.

Friends

Lucy. The woman who makes traditional jewelry.

Amos. A nurse at a medical clinic in Alale. This man is brilliant;

it's as if he's reciting poetry when he speaks.

Keliman. Owns camels and goats in Alale. His English-sounding name is

Alfonso. That name, in combination with how he conducts himself (especially

at his homestead) is so amusingly extravagant. You would think he's the

Prince of Persia or something.

Dan. I don't know why exactly, but Dan feels the most American out of everyone

else in the friend/family group. Or maybe he just reminds me of one of my friends

back in the U.S., although I don't know who that would be.

Cookie Toss

So I have thrown up three times this week. The human body amazes me. If I weren't an anthropologist, or rather, becoming an anthropologist, I'm sure I would become a doctor. I say becoming because a professor once told me that you aren't identified as an anthropologist until you do field work (like what I'm doing in Kenya), but even then, you must publish your findings...and I don't think submitting my thesis to the University counts.

Anyway, back to the sour stomach. What has amazed me this week is how my stomach is so selective. All day Sunday, I was sick from eating that goat. I would slowly eat or drink other things during the day. We had a can of pineapple, a bag of pre-popped popcorn...man did I miss good old fashioned saltines and Sprite. But at midnight that night, my body had digested everything except for the goat.

The second time was on Tuesday, after eating ugali and skooma (not convinced that's how skooma is spelled). That was my first big meal after the goat incident, and I think I simply overdid it. I should have eaten less. Because ugali and skooma is such a staple food, and I've eaten it sooo many times during my stay here, I wasn't thinking about how my stomach, after eating very little in 2 days, would react to the acidic quality of the skooma.

Then the third time was just last night. I don't know what happened. It was one of my favorite Kenya meals: chapati, potatoes, and goat soup. Maybe my stomach just wants me to lay off goat from here on out, because it digested all of the potatoes and most of the chapati. That's too bad, because goat is actually really really good.

What is even more interesting is that during the last 2 times, I didn't feel sick. I ate the meal, went to my room, did some work on my computer, went to sleep, and at around 1:00am woke up suddenly with a sour stomach, then just as quickly felt better, brushed my teeth, and went back to bed.

My grandfather-in-law expressed concern after the first incident this week, suggesting I look into a specific ailment and have a blood panel completed in Nairobi. But I was feeling fine and considered the goat incident on Sunday a case of simple food poisoning. I have been feeling fine, and am starting to get a sense of what my stomach prefers at the preset time. For example, on Thursday, Michael, Peter, some others, and myself went to Kitale for car repairs and so that I could eat an American meal. I ate so much that day, and didn't get sick.

Since I will only be in Nairobi for about 24 hours before I fly out, I think it makes the best sense to get a once-over in the States when I return, which I was recommended to do anyway so they can confirm I didn't get Tuberculosis or Malaria, etc. In the meantime, there is plenty I've successfully been able to eat the past few days, in addition to some protein bars I brought on the trip. I think there was even mention of going back to Kitale today.

By the way, I drove the Toyota pickup from Kitale back to Kapenguria on Thursday. Michael's friends didn't believe I knew how to drive (especially a manual), so he put me behind the wheel. I had done some driving in Alale as well, but this was the first time for me to drive on a main road. That Toyota goes from 0 to 60 in like 10 minutes... And each time Michael takes it on a trip to the rural areas, he has to get something serviced on it. I told Michael I thought it was time he get a new vehicle...maybe a safari-type Land Rover like what all the government officials drive out in the rural areas.

Well, as you can imagine, I'm getting pretty hungry. So that's all for now.

Keriama

Wow. So much has happened in the past week in Alale. I learned so much in Alale. About the Pokot, about myself, and about my friends. And I have only begun to process my experiences there, I'm sure. It is impossible to cover everything in one blog post, but here are some of the highlights...

Upon arriving in Alale, we went to Michael's mother's homestead to rest for the remainder of the evening after a long day of traveling. My fellow travelers were Michael (of course), Peter (a.k.a. Losenguria), and Lomaler. As the evening unfolded, I was astounded to discover some things I had not known about the very people with whom I have been spending a good portion of 2 months. 

I have neglected to ask probing personal questions of people like Nelly, Peter, and Lomaler because I did not want them to feel as if they were being inspected and studied like the people they observe me interview (even though I am, in fact, studying them). Unlike the various people I have interviewed, I had to see these 3 every day. 

So, I was shocked to learn that Lomaler is Michael's younger brother. About a decade or more separates them. Michael never introduced him to me as family, and because Lomaler runs a number of errands for Michael's family and sleeps in Michael's Toyota pickup, I assumed Michael had simply extended a helping hand to a fellow Pokot in need. I knew Michael and Lomaler come from the same Snake clan, but that was as close to family as I thought they got.

This goes back to my observation about how people in Pokot (if not all of Kenya) refer to each other. Each person usually has an English-sounding name, an African-sounding name, and a nickname. I think what I've realized is because each person has so many names, and because a person may not know which name you know for another person, then they refer to that person as "that guy" instead of using a name. In the case of clans, a person can be referred to as a brother or sister if they are literally a blood relative, or if they belong to the same clan. Lucy (in the Shackled post), for instance, is not Michael's blood sister after all, but is in the same clan as Michael.

Kolemoi, goat herdsboy

I met Michael's blood sister's son, Kolemoi, while in Alale. Because clans are patrilineal (anthropological term meaning descent or kinship is determined by the father), Kolemoi belongs to a different clan than Michael and his sister. Michael introduced Kolemoi to me as his sister's son. And I said, "ok, so he's your nephew!" Michael's nonchalant response was, "yeah, but he's from a different clan, though." I don't want to paint the picture that Michael is uncaring towards his nephew. Michael has a HUGE heart...for everyone inside and outside his clan, for everyone inside and outside Pokot. But this exchange so beautifully clarified for me what are considered the inner circles of family for Pokot. 

To help narrate some of the rest of my journey in Alale, here are some photos:

Making a driveway to Michael's mother's homestead.

Michael's brothers holding down a goat while I slaughter it by slitting its throat.

Michael with his brothers: Losil and Lomaler. This is their first photo together.

In the rural areas, I mentioned before that women wear
many bracelets to indicate they are married. At this point
in the trip, I only had 2, so this guy did not know I am
married and offered Michael 50 cows for my dowry.

Getting more marriage bracelets. The woman who fashioned and hammered

on the additional bracelets has a ton of them on her own arm!

At Kaliman's homestead (a friend of Michael's). He asked if I had ever milked
a camel. I hadn't. So, I became the evening's entertainment by milking a camel.
Camel milk, by the way, is very very sweet.

Helping a newborn camel stand up (also at Kaliman's).

Fueling up the pickup at Michael's mother's homestead. There isn't a gas station

in Alale, so we had to bring a jerrican of fuel with us.

At a government-hosted peace meeting between Turkana and Pokot.

At the peace meeting, I learned that the Turkana had recently

raided a nearby Pokot community for their cattle, and slaughtered

a young Pokot herdsboy. On the way back from the peace

meeting, we coincidentally stumbled upon the mother of the

herdsboy who was brutally murdered. That was a rough day.

There's gold in them hills! Mountain climbing with gold diggers.

Panning for gold. This is an alternative to raising cattle and cattle rustling.
On average, 1 day's work earns a person $2.

Jumping. A social event. Like running, people were surprised I knew how to jump...

Chilaxin at Kaliman's. I am teaching Losenguria and Lomaler how to play the

card game "Speed." I don't think either of them had ever played cards before.
I also climbed a tree and shot a bow and arrow. I surprised everyone (including
myself) when I was told to aim for a tree 30 yards away that was no more than
2 inches in diameter and hit it square center. I haven't shot a bow and arrow in
15 years (not including the Wii sports version).

Plowing a field. Growing crops is another alternative to the nomadic tradition

of cattle raising and rustling.

Me with Chenenaut, Losil's daughter. This little girl is completely
satisfied sitting quietly on your lap and ever so delicately
examining your jewelry.

Goat sacrifice (different from slaughter). This is offered to God by Pokot elders
and then eaten by all men present (leftovers sent home for women and children).

I get to eat with the men. I am convinced this is the best way to cook goat.

BBQed whole, then cut up and BBQed some more. Smoky tasty! Unfortunately,

I ate some undercooked meat and got really sick the rest of the day.

Michael and Kaliman collecting leaves for the goat sacrifice.

Michael found a baby goat that had gone missing for nearly 

3 days. I was really surprised, because you can hear hyenas
at night.

Some of you were wondering how I spent my birthday. This was it. It was only

just the day before that I got really sick from eating the undercooked goat. So,

my body was super exhausted the next day. By the way, just a week before, I

thought it was really awkward to lie down and take a nap in front of everyone.

I obviously got over it.

My Alale family (minus Michael, taking the picture; and Kaliman, absent).

Left to Right: Michael's mom, Longoria (a friend), Losenguria (Peter), Losil's

wife, Michael's sister, Lomaler, Me, Chenenaut, Losil, Kolemoi, Kabet, and the

last 2 kids I never learned their names.

At this point, I am very sad to think I will be leaving in exactly 1 week from today. I have made so many friends here that it will be hard to say goodbye. I will be coming back to Pokot. It is only a matter of when.

Keriama. Let's meet again.

Shackled

Lucy is Michael's sister. She comes by every once in awhile for afternoon chai and to help with laundry. I found out recently that she makes traditional Pokot jewelry for a hobby. I was admiring her Pokot marriage bands (bracelets) one day (the Pokot version of a wedding ring); the next time I saw her, she brought the piece of metal from which one of the bands had been cut. She cut 2 bands from it and fit them to my right forearm, so now I am pestered less when going into town with Nelly because men recognize that I am a married woman.

The traditional marriage bands are less common in the more "urban" areas, such as Kapenguria, but everyone still recognizes them for what they are. They are still very much in use in the rural, nomadic areas. Lucy just wears 2 bands on her arm, but when I was in Ombolion, many of the women had over a dozen. Michael said I will acquire more in Alale.

This is Lomaler. He was the one who actually
did the hammering while Lucy oversaw and
directed his work.

These bands are permanent, and require a hammering device to get them on. I could remove them if I really wanted to, but it would be a hassle...requiring at least one other person, and if I wanted to put them back on, it probably wouldn't look or fit quite right. I doubt I will have trouble at the Nairobi airport, but I'm sure TSA is just going to love me for my future domestic and international flights.

Between the jewelry I was gifted at Mtelo Hall during the County Government meeting, and the jewelry I purchased from Lucy, Michael said I will be presentable for our trip to Alale.

We actually left Sunday morning for the trip to Alale, and are planning to stay a week or more. Because I wasn't sure about my internet connection in Alale, I prepared this post ahead of time and asked Luke to publish it for me. I know, I'm cheating a little bit, but I hope it keeps you entertained in the mean time. I look forward to updating you about my adventures in Alale upon my return to Kapenguria next week.

For those of you who are planning to visit Michael and Daylight in the upcoming months, and are interested in purchasing jewelry while you are here, I highly recommend that you commission Lucy to make the jewelry for you. Especially if you will not be going to Alale where there are quality jewelry shops. I've done a lot of searching in Kapenguria, and the few pieces I've found are very low quality.

Lucy was trained by her aunt, and even knows how to make jewelry that Pokot no longer wear (phased out due to scarcity of materials). Lucy would like to open a Pokot jewelry-making business (in order to support her children), but hasn't been able to pull together the up-front costs (because she spends what she has to support her children). It takes Lucy about 2 days to complete a large project, such as a necklace. She (and others) charge about $16 (KShs 1300) for a necklace. To put this in perspective, a loaf of bread here costs KShs 86.

If I had figured this all out sooner, I would have been open to taking orders from those of you who are interested in supporting Lucy and acquiring some traditional Pokot jewelry. But I won't be in Kenya much longer!

I will post a picture of Lucy when I return from Alale.

Grace

This past week, I met with the people whose land Daylight has been purchasing incrementally. Currently, Daylight is renting space from a local seminary, but in order to increase attendance and host more orphans, Daylight has been in the process of purchasing its own land on which to build classrooms and dormitories.

Our first meeting. Quite intimidating for me!

First, Daylight purchased a little over 3 acres. The husband and wife (Kenya and Grace...yes, his name is Kenya) who own the land believe in what Daylight Center and School is doing, so they had offered to set aside the neighboring 9 acres for Daylight to purchase in the future, refusing other offers on the land. But the couple have their own bills to pay, and they shared their concerns with me a few weeks ago that they may be forced to sell to another interested buyer.

For our first meeting, we sat beneath a big tree.

Thanks to a number of generous Daylight donors, we were able to purchase 3 more acres this week. I had simply passed on the urgent information to the rest of the U.S. board of directors for Daylight, but Grace thanked me as if I had pulled the necessary sum from my own pocket. Even Angelina, Michael's wife, thanked me for doing what I did. I'm not exactly sure what I did... if it was picking up the phone and putting the pressure on the rest of the board of directors, or if it was just being present to put the land owners at ease.

Second Land Meeting: Me, Grace, and Kenya.

I have gotten to "know" this family better than I thought I would since our first meeting. Grace's father passed away a few weeks ago, so Michael and I attended the funeral which took place in her and Kenya's backyard beneath a temporary canopy made of rugged wooden beams and a tarp of maize sacks sewn together. Her father was buried in the backyard as well. Also, her daughter is about my age and speaks English very well, so we have fun chatting every time we see each other.

At this last meeting, Michael and I agreed to raise the funds for 2 more acres of land by then end of May...so, in just a little over 2 months. These 2 acres will ease the couple's current financial burdens, and allow Daylight to consider and purchase the last 4 acres at its leisure.

I don't want any of my blog readers to feel pressured (ok, maybe just a little), or to stop reading my blog because I've turned one of my posts into a call for donations. But in addition to the research I am doing for my master's research, this Daylight project is very much a part of my Kenya experiences.

Something I have learned while interviewing people for my research is that the Kenyan government still has a long way to go before public school systems (as the U.S. knows them) are providing free education for all children to attend primary and secondary school. In addition, the Pokot have a long history of being overlooked by government benefits. Just in the past century, the Kenyan government decided the Ugandan government should be responsible for the Pokot, but Uganda didn't want that responsibility, so the Pokot were abandoned.

The new Kenyan constitution, signed by President Kibaki last fall, brings a lot of hope and promise of equal distribution of government-provided benefits, such as free eduction and a percentage of national revenue to Kenyan counties for development projects. Even so, it will take some time before these changes reach Kapenguria, and even longer before the nomadic areas see the effects of the new constitution.

When I ask the nomads what the government is doing in their area, or what they expect from the government, the response I receive is "What government? I've heard about this thing called government, but I have not seen it," or "The government? Our government are the missionaries and aid organizations."

And when I ask what they believe will resolve the challenges they are experiencing with drought and hunger and health care, most everyone's response has been education.

On our way from Nairobi to Kapenguria, we stopped in East Pokot and I met this
mother and her son, who has a deformed foot. Michael asked her about having
her son come to Daylight once a host is arranged for him. She said Michael's
proposal was an answer to prayer.

Isn't he adorable?! A current Daylight student on
the cold day I taught a few classes.

This is why Daylight is so significant to the nomads. Daylight provides free education to orphans and other marginalized children, accelerating change in the nomadic areas they come from. 

Learn more about Daylight Center and School, or make a tax-deductible donation of $100 towards the remaining 2-acre land purchase.

Even if you do not click on one of the links above, thank you for taking an interest in this part of my trip by sticking to the end of this post!

Not a Drop to Drink

It has been raining a lot this week. And I mean A LOT! Kapenguria is drenched and has not had an opportunity to recover between showers. Day and night, there might be a reprieve of two or three hours. On the plus side, the rain against my tin roof has not disturbed my sleep, I have grown quite accustomed to it. It's sort of comforting now.

But it has also been unnaturally cold (for Kenya) and humid, due to the rain. My jacket got soaked one afternoon, so I hung it in my room to dry. It was still damp the next afternoon.

Nelly cutting vegetables this afternoon beneath a
double rainbow.

I have been wanting to do some laundry and take a shower since Tuesday, but I don't have enough places to hang wet clothes in my room, and I can't bear to even think about taking a cold shower in this cold weather. ...Think about that for a second: no shower or clean underwear since Tuesday... I never thought I'd stoop so low.

On top of it all, I made a big misjudgment last night at dinner. I've become a little too comfortable with Nelly cooking meals. And Michael wasn't around last evening to confirm my suspicions or advise otherwise, so I ate what I was given.

Yesterday afternoon, Nelly made some beans and rice for lunch. When Angelina got home from visiting Daylight, she suggested having chai and buttered bread instead, and saving the beans and rice for dinner. I know I saw Nelly reheat the beans, but as soon as I bit into the rice, I started to feel conflicted. It wasn't hot. Or warm for that matter. Do I say something and ask to have it reheated? Or would that be an over-precaution? Well, I didn't say anything, and it would NOT have been an over-precaution.

I am almost out of Pepto Bismol. I am sure the humid conditions lately only contributed to and sped up the process for the contamination of the rice.

It's amazing to me that the only times I have felt unwell are in Kapenguria. I was expecting to become ill in the rural areas, if at all. This just proves I need to maintain the over-precaution I practice in the rural areas at all times, including in Kapenguria.

The head master translating for the kids. He actually can't
understand my accent very well.

On a lighter note... Yesterday, I visited Daylight Center and School. The head master asked me teach two Math classes, and then an English class where I could talk about anything I wanted. I handed out pennies from the United States and told the kids about Abraham Lincoln and Obama, and then quizzed the kids on their own Kenyan Presidential history. Then I answered questions about the weather in Minnesota and what travel back to the United States entails.

I've noticed these pants have gotten a little baggy on me.

At recess, I attempted to play soccer with the kids, but they thought it way more fun to run after me than the soccer ball. I tried to get an honest game of tag going, but it turned out everyone was it, except for me, of course.

People have been surprised when they see that I run...as well as carry as much as any Kenyan woman. I have no idea where they get their perception of Americans, but it certainly doesn't include the possibility that at least some of us are physically fit. I suppose it doesn't help when they witness one of us keeling over with stomach pain after eating something as simple as rice.


Afternoon Update:
Not long after writing a draft of this blog this morning, I began to feel much better...at least, enough where I could stand up straight...without needing to pace. And then the sun came out!

Nelly and Lucy (Michael's sister) were doing laundry, so I brought out mine to wash it myself and ended up getting some quality instruction on how to hand scrub my clothes. Nelly was able to get out a stain on my white shirt that I was convinced wouldn't be spotless until I returned to the States and soaked it in bleach. Amazing!

After making chai for lunch, Nelly used the remaining heat from the coals on the stove to warm some water for me to shower. I feel sooo much better!

Bull: 1, Rachel: 0

Yesterday was excruciatingly frustrating. I can confidently say it was the worst day of the trip. Provided nothing worse happens, I can at least allow future incidents to roll off my back a bit easier.

Yesterday was the date of reschedule for the bull sacrifice (mentioned in my "Murder Investigation" post). I will take a moment here to explain that this murder was not random, and I am completely safe. Essentially, the murder was the result of cattle rustling. As the Pokot elders do not approve of cattle rustling (or murder!), they are making a very big example out of everyone remotely involved in this murder and cattle rustling event.

Michael wanted to ensure I would be present for the entire bull sacrifice ceremony, so we planned to leave Kapenguria for Lelan at 5:30am. After getting fuel and picking up an elder, we ended up leaving Kapenguria at around 6:00am.

We arrived in Lelan sometime between 7:00 and 7:30am, where we waited and waited. And waited. Fortunately, waiting is something I have, at least, come to expect in Kenya. I think Luke will be pleased that I've developed a better concept of patience during this trip.

That morning, a Lelan local treated our entire crew (Michael, Peter, Lomaler, Nelly, the elder, and myself) to chai, but Michael cautioned me not to "take chai" because he wasn't confident it was prepared in such a way that killed all of the bacteria in the milk. This is because Lelan is a small rural town that is not accustomed to tourists.

It reminded me of an Old West ghost town, with a dirt road that abruptly comes up to a short strip of parallel shops. Only, instead of tumble weed, a sheep would occasionally trot by. Skip, you will be pleased to know that the electric guitars in the opening song from Once Upon a Time in the West queued in my head.

Me thinking about rolling down the hill.

So, after watching people drink chai, Michael apparently got an update regarding the location of the ceremony. So, we drove maybe 3 miles out of town and parked off the road in a pasture. Where we waited some more. Peter, Nelly, Lomaler and I climbed a small hill and the view was amazing. Not only could you see the haphazard patchwork of farms and pasture and homesteads in the valley below, but we also had a clear view of Mt Mtelo to the northeast and Mt Elgon to the west-northwest. I'm convinced that if I started to roll down the west side of that steep hill, the only thing that would stop me from reaching the valley miles below would be a solid fence or two.

After waiting there for about an hour, hour and a half, Michael received another phone call, and we headed back into Lelan. Where we waited and waited. At this point, a handful of elders showed up. So, I jumped at the opportunity to ask a few questions and get a better understanding of the ceremony. Before, I understood that sacrificing someone's bull is only one step down from corporeal punishment. Well, that actually isn't the case. From greatest to least in severity, after corporeal punishment in Pokot, the next biggest punishment is whipping or beating the criminal, then it is lapay (which is essentially a HUGE fine for damages rendered), then the bull sacrifice, then forced excommunication, and finally, voluntary excommunication.

Speaking with some elders.

After getting my questions answered, one of the elders treated our crew to more chai. This time, I had a Sprite. At this point, some of the shops had opened, so Nelly and I went into a clothing shop just to kill some time. Not much of a selection. After waiting some more in Lelan, Michael and the elders were getting up to go somewhere, so I chose to follow.

We climbed a huge hill, where there were more board members with stackable plastic chairs, presumably determining where on the hill to have the ceremony. Nelly and I wandered around the hill and found the ruins of an old house or something, so we hung out there until one of the elders called out to us to come.

Notice I am carrying one chair and Nelly is carrying three...

We picked up some of the chairs and followed the elders halfway down the hill to a clearing where a man was moving some brush aside. This seemed to be the place they decided on. But we did some more waiting. And I found out we were waiting on some elders who had just left Kapenguria. It was around 12:30pm when I learned this, so that would place the elders in Kapenguria at around 2:00pm. While we waited, I got to watch Peter perform the Pokot way of extracting ear wax. Apparently, they allow ear wax to build up until it is the size of a pea, and then someone fashions a tweezer out of a stick and attempts to fish out the ear wax from their patient.

Then, it started to sprinkle, so the elders picked up the chairs and walked back to Lelan. If it started to rain hard, they wanted to be close to a building that they could retreat to. There is an area, just outside the "city center," that appeared to be for auctions or public addresses, and that is where the elders finally settled. I dozed off at around 1:45pm for a few minutes. At 2:15pm, things were finally getting started.

By 2:30pm, about 100 people had gathered, and an elder stood up and welcomed everyone. Michael pointed out the criminal to me, and I asked him where the bull was. He said he didn't know. About 2 hours later, it started to rain. Hard. So, everyone retreated into a nearby sheep shearing shed. I didn't understand what was going on, but somehow the bull sacrifice ceremony turned into a peace meeting between the Pokot and Marakwet. There was no bull, there was no sacrifice.

At around 6:00pm, Michael said he was feeling very tired and told Nelly to translate for me, then left the meeting with Peter. Nelly translated a few things, but it takes her longer than Michael, as her English vocabulary isn't as advanced, which means that I'm getting more of a watered-down version than if Michael translates. This is fine for me, as I simply just want to get an idea of what is being said, but then she stopped translating all together. When Michael does this, it usually means the person speaking is simply repeating himself, or is saying more of the same of what has already been said. But in Nelly's case, Peter had once told me that Nelly (who is not originally Pokot) does not speak Pokot. In preparing for this trip to Lelan, I mentioned this to Michael, and he said that Nelly actually speaks Pokot very well. Well, this morning, while having chai, I observed Lomaler teaching Nelly how to pronounce Pokot greetings (phrases I have already learned). I'm sure Nelly must understand more Pokot than I do, but I don't think I can continue to depend on her for formal translations.

Finally, at 6:45pm, after sitting uncomfortably on a wooden bench for over 4 hours, the elder we came with stood up, made a statement to everyone in attendance, and then turned to leave. In response, Lomaler and Nelly got up to follow. Nelly even picked up my backpack and turned to me to say "just come."

"Wait, what's going on?" 

"We are leaving now," was her response.

I had no idea if the elder was opposed to something said, or if he was politely excusing himself, or if something was about to happen where women were not to be present (Nelly and I were the only women). So, I had little choice but to follow Nelly out of the shed to inquire further. Once we were a good twenty yards away, I asked again:

"What's happening, why are we leaving?"

"The meeting is ending, they are just going to pray now." 

"What?! Nelly, I can't leave. I need to see that!"

So I rushed back to the shed to stand at the open door. Nelly and the elder followed me, the elder asking 

"What did you forget?"

I expected Nelly to answer him, since I needed to pay attention to what was taking place, but he kept asking. So I turned to him and said (not knowing exactly how much English he could understand) 

"This is what I came all the way from America to see." I emphasized this by pointing into the shed. "I can't leave yet." 

A few minutes later, it was all over, and we headed back to the truck to meet up with Michael.

I asked Michael, "so they aren't killing the bull tonight?"

"Oh no. Not tonight." 

He then explained that the culprit was being difficult, saying he wasn't in compliance with the elders' ruling. But then he said he was and he has the bull here, in Lelan. So now, because he was being difficult, he must sacrifice 3 bulls.

"When was that decided?"

"Just now. At this meeting today."

"Oh. I didn't get a translation for that."

"Oh, really?"

"No. This is news to me."

I can't blame anyone for this. Michael, after waking up early and navigating a steep and bumpy drive to Lelan was rightly tired. Nelly, a woman attending an all-male meeting, culturally is not going to question an elder when he motions her to leave. Also, this is a Pokot meeting. I am clearly not Pokot, but most of my translators are. This meeting is far more important for them to experience than it is for me. This is their history in the making. If I don't get a complete translation because they are personally consumed with what is being said, then who am I to distract their attention?

What was frustrating for me was being pulled away early from the meeting. It wasn't waking up early and then waiting for 9 hours. It was the fact that, if I can't get a play-by-play translation of what is going on, then I can at least use my own eyes to absorb the experience. But if I can't understand what is being said, and I can't see and experience it either, then what is the point of me being here?

I feel I can salvage my research efforts yesterday, but it was extremely disconcerting to think that we almost wasted an entire day, $60 of gas, as well as Michael's time, my time, etc.

Not only did I listen to a ton of Pokot spoken yesterday (with little translation), but only two English phrases were uttered the entire car ride back to Kapenguria. 

Fun fact: I think the biggest reverse culture shock I will have upon returning to the United States will be English overload, where I will get overwhelmed with understanding everyone.

I didn't initiate an English conversation because I was so frustrated about what had happened that day that I thought I might start crying if I opened my mouth. In fact, at 8:20pm, after we got back and Peter brought me my water bottle from the truck, saying "I think you are tired Recho," I locked my door and completely broke down. After only eating half a protein bar and 3 slices of bread all day, I thought I would be hungry, but I had lost my appetite.

This morning, even though I still didn't feel hungry, I forced down 4 cups of chai. And instead of going to Daylight with Michael's family, I decided to recuperate at home today.

Before leaving for Daylight, Michael updated me that our trip to Alale will probably be postponed until this weekend. He only just submitted receipts, etc to the Daylight board, so we must wait for the wire of funds so that he can pay the Daylight staff before we leave, as well as pay for a few more acres of land for Daylight's new location.

From my experience in Kenya, something tells me we won't be going to Alale until sometime next week. But because I have this understanding, I can at least make the most out of my time while I wait for us to leave. 

All in all, I had both good and bad experiences yesterday. Unfortunately, months from now, I'm afraid I will only remember the bad ones that occurred yesterday.