Pre Note: My trip was with an organization called "A Better World". 7 of us left Calgary October 25th to meet up with 4 more by the time we got to Nairobi. We were then to meet with 41 more people by November 5th. Our work included eyeglass clinics, medical clinics evaluation of programs already in progress and assessment of those newly proposed to the organization. We were to visit a variety of different facilities throughout our trip; this included schools and orphanages and different small businesses.
We each carried two suitcases with us, one filled with our own clothes the other filled with either medical supplies, school supplies or clothing or a mixture of all. Our group contained professions from doctors and nurses to engineers and welder. Although our professions were varied and our ages ranged from 13 to 70+, our hearts and values were the same. All of us were volunteers and we would share in a most remarkable experience of a lifetime.
It is 2:00 am and I am wide-awake, close to lunchtime in Kenya and so I head to the fridge to look for something to eat. Nick did not do any shopping and there was little to choose from. I noticed some cheese and butter, then opened the pantry to pull out the Rye Crisp. Crackers and cheese, a simple snack but somehow seemed more meaningful to eat. The cheese is cold and although I know that even though it has been in the refrigerator for awhile it is still good to eat. And a glass of water, cold, and good to drink right out of the tap and a small sip of passion/orange juice drink… cold and sweet and it sharpened my memory to the fresh, tangy/sweet glass of passion fruit I soon began to crave every morning at breakfast.
Our journey to Nairobi was a long one. It started with a meeting and a prayer and the first contact with some of those we would spend not quite a month with. Some of us already knew each other, some were to become new friends. Airport security was to be the biggest pain of our whole trip and Calgary was no exception, but we managed to settle into our gate and waited in anticipation for our flight to be called. Not quite nine hours to London and once there we gathered onto a bus for a quick tour of the city. Some had been there before. The city was busy and crowded and I found it more than interesting that I had no desire to be there, perhaps it was the excitement of wanting to get moving with our trip and perhaps some was the fact that although very historical, one city is no different than the other. London is expensive and touristy and so very large. It was to be the beginning of stepping in and out of a bus/van, with a whole group of people and restrictions as to where I could or could not go in consideration to the group which was something I was not use to after my trip to Italy.
Heathrow security was a nightmare and it is my biggest angst in my traveling experience. Thank you Cindy for helping me. She noticed how stressed I had become over it and left her knapsack behind helping me out. Luckily she found it! Finally we were on our AIR KENYA flight and an experience that was to open my eyes to a whole different world.
Tired but excited to be there we were introduced to our drivers and those we were to ride with for the next 10 days or so. In the parking lot of the Nairobi airport we met Samson our driver. He was quiet and shy but that would eventually change. Joanne B and I were to go in Van #1 with Randy and Janice. Randy and Janice had adopted a young boy through an organization called Compassion Canada and we were off to the area where they were to meet this young man. I was not prepared for what I was to see.
Our first tour was of the city of Nairobi. People walk everywhere, not everybody owns a car in Kenya. The pollution of diesel fumes and burning engines covered the smell of garbage that seemed to be strewn all over the sides of the road. The air was dry, windy and hot and our only reprieve to the heat was to open the windows. Nairobi itself was a bustle of noise and people and cars and honking horns. Very few traffic lights and long, LONG traffic jams and negotiating through the traffic. Wouldn’t you know it, we had arrived during morning rush hour. Samson was a good driver and managed to make his way through the dreadlock of cars and people. He knew Nairobi well.
It was subtle but I was struck at being in a city of all black people and felt so out of place as I gawked my head out the window of the van, dumb-struck by the cacophony of sounds and sights. A white person amongst the majority of black. A table turning of grand proportions and one I was cognizant of for my entire trip.
Randy and Janice were anxious to meet the young African student and Joanne and I made few comments as Samson drove through small subsections of villages and towns that lay outside Nairobi. We passed by tin shanties and shacks set side-by-side, kiosks for local merchants. Narrow streets that were not paved but were dusty and pot-holed. Broken vehicles on the side of the road or grouped together near a structure that I assumed was a garage. At first sight all I could see was poverty. No sidewalks, people walking everywhere, some even barefoot. Clothing of all different colours and styles. Structure, where was the structure, streets, concrete buildings, homes?
I wanted to take pictures of what I had been seeing but felt that I would be intruding on their world. I felt it would be an insult to take photos of what I saw as such deprivation and poverty. I was to learn later that my first impression was a great miss-interpretation in terms of perspective and that with time that perspective and view would change to some extent.
After a few attempts at trying to find the church and facility that Janice and Randy were to meet the boy they had sponsored, Samson finally found the place. Janice and Randy were relieved as were Joanne and I as we needed a bathroom break and were getting rather hungry. I was the only one in the van that had not experienced Africa before and so my “shock” factor was high and to be perfectly honest I was dumb founded.
We were met by a pastor and some members of the church who did not expect our visit until later on in the afternoon, a line we would hear often when we were there. We were entertained by these people and asked to sit for tea and food. Panic set in as it was to be my first experience at eating and drinking in Africa. We were offered two plates one filled with a deep fried dough (equivalent to a donut actually and very good hot!), some ground spicy meet wrapped in pastry (of which I passed on) and tea (which eventually would be known as “baby tea, a pre-mix of tea and milk). The donut was delicious and tea washed it down well.
Soon the young man arrived and Janice and Randy were thrilled to meet him. They showered him with gifts, he talked about himself and school and then we were invited to meet his mother and family. We followed the young man through narrow alley ways. Chicken and children and on lookers staring at these intruders in their neighbourhood. I felt more comfortable taking pictures at our stop and was able to get some of children in the nursery school of the facilities we were offered tea in previously, but when my camera when up in this neighbourhood we were now walking in, many refused and shook their heads. I complied and restricted my picture taking to those who agreed and the local scenery.
It was dirty and smelly and the homes were made of mud, tin and some wood structures. The smell of charcoal burning, waste water and African dust filled my nostrils. It was poverty like I had never experienced in my life.
The young man was proud to introduce us to his mother and with the English he knew Randy and Janice were able to communicate their joy in having met him and know all about him and his way of life.
Soon our visit was over and as he guided us back to the church facility he expressed his concern for the running waste water behind the row of houses he lived in. “When it rains, it over flows into the houses,” he told me. I didn’t know what to say in return for we both knew that this was waste water and certainly unhealthy. As we made our way through the narrow pathway I was able to ask him what he planned to do with his life. He expressed an interest in being a travel agent. Or at least that is what I believe he said, his quiet voice and shy way made it difficult to hear him, but what I did sense was a belief that he would get beyond where he was. His favourite subject was Physics he had told Randy. Randy responded with a confession that even he could not grasp that subject.
It was getting late and we had to be at the lodge in Lake Nakuru before the sun set and had a long journey yet to go. Janice and Randy left supplies for the teachers at the school/church, some gifts for the young man and some money for his family for food, and then we were off. Silent and tired. The day had been a long one, but a very gratifying one for me especially, the overload of information in senses was overwhelming and would be set aside for processing once settled in for the evening.
We live in a very affluent country. We take many things for granted. Heated (or in the homes of my friends in the south, air conditioned), well-built, large, comfortable homes. We feel it our right to have such things as electricity, a large refrigerator, stove to cook on and clean running water to drink, cook, shower and bath with. A toilet that flushes gallons of water into sewer systems that treat the waste so that it can be used again. Garbage is picked up regularly and our lawns are manicured weekly by ourselves or someone we may have hired. And we hop in our cars to a grocery store that provides us with food from all over the world, right there to choose from. We worry for little here in this wonderful country I call home. I was to learn the significance of gratitude and more on this trip.
Later that week when telling a local of our story, he informed us that where we were was the biggest slum in Nairobi, Kenya even. He said that many come to the city to try and find work and end up in these slums when they find out that it is not easy to make a fortune in the hustle and bustle of metropolitan living.
To be continued…
(Pictures will be added soon)
Our journey to Nairobi was a long one. It started with a meeting and a prayer and the first contact with some of those we would spend not quite a month with. Some of us already knew each other, some were to become new friends. Airport security was to be the biggest pain of our whole trip and Calgary was no exception, but we managed to settle into our gate and waited in anticipation for our flight to be called. Not quite nine hours to London and once there we gathered onto a bus for a quick tour of the city. Some had been there before. The city was busy and crowded and I found it more than interesting that I had no desire to be there, perhaps it was the excitement of wanting to get moving with our trip and perhaps some was the fact that although very historical, one city is no different than the other. London is expensive and touristy and so very large. It was to be the beginning of stepping in and out of a bus/van, with a whole group of people and restrictions as to where I could or could not go in consideration to the group which was something I was not use to after my trip to Italy.
Heathrow security was a nightmare and it is my biggest angst in my traveling experience. Thank you Cindy for helping me. She noticed how stressed I had become over it and left her knapsack behind helping me out. Luckily she found it! Finally we were on our AIR KENYA flight and an experience that was to open my eyes to a whole different world.
Tired but excited to be there we were introduced to our drivers and those we were to ride with for the next 10 days or so. In the parking lot of the Nairobi airport we met Samson our driver. He was quiet and shy but that would eventually change. Joanne B and I were to go in Van #1 with Randy and Janice. Randy and Janice had adopted a young boy through an organization called Compassion Canada and we were off to the area where they were to meet this young man. I was not prepared for what I was to see.
Our first tour was of the city of Nairobi. People walk everywhere, not everybody owns a car in Kenya. The pollution of diesel fumes and burning engines covered the smell of garbage that seemed to be strewn all over the sides of the road. The air was dry, windy and hot and our only reprieve to the heat was to open the windows. Nairobi itself was a bustle of noise and people and cars and honking horns. Very few traffic lights and long, LONG traffic jams and negotiating through the traffic. Wouldn’t you know it, we had arrived during morning rush hour. Samson was a good driver and managed to make his way through the dreadlock of cars and people. He knew Nairobi well.
It was subtle but I was struck at being in a city of all black people and felt so out of place as I gawked my head out the window of the van, dumb-struck by the cacophony of sounds and sights. A white person amongst the majority of black. A table turning of grand proportions and one I was cognizant of for my entire trip.
Randy and Janice were anxious to meet the young African student and Joanne and I made few comments as Samson drove through small subsections of villages and towns that lay outside Nairobi. We passed by tin shanties and shacks set side-by-side, kiosks for local merchants. Narrow streets that were not paved but were dusty and pot-holed. Broken vehicles on the side of the road or grouped together near a structure that I assumed was a garage. At first sight all I could see was poverty. No sidewalks, people walking everywhere, some even barefoot. Clothing of all different colours and styles. Structure, where was the structure, streets, concrete buildings, homes?
I wanted to take pictures of what I had been seeing but felt that I would be intruding on their world. I felt it would be an insult to take photos of what I saw as such deprivation and poverty. I was to learn later that my first impression was a great miss-interpretation in terms of perspective and that with time that perspective and view would change to some extent.
After a few attempts at trying to find the church and facility that Janice and Randy were to meet the boy they had sponsored, Samson finally found the place. Janice and Randy were relieved as were Joanne and I as we needed a bathroom break and were getting rather hungry. I was the only one in the van that had not experienced Africa before and so my “shock” factor was high and to be perfectly honest I was dumb founded.
We were met by a pastor and some members of the church who did not expect our visit until later on in the afternoon, a line we would hear often when we were there. We were entertained by these people and asked to sit for tea and food. Panic set in as it was to be my first experience at eating and drinking in Africa. We were offered two plates one filled with a deep fried dough (equivalent to a donut actually and very good hot!), some ground spicy meet wrapped in pastry (of which I passed on) and tea (which eventually would be known as “baby tea, a pre-mix of tea and milk). The donut was delicious and tea washed it down well.
Soon the young man arrived and Janice and Randy were thrilled to meet him. They showered him with gifts, he talked about himself and school and then we were invited to meet his mother and family. We followed the young man through narrow alley ways. Chicken and children and on lookers staring at these intruders in their neighbourhood. I felt more comfortable taking pictures at our stop and was able to get some of children in the nursery school of the facilities we were offered tea in previously, but when my camera when up in this neighbourhood we were now walking in, many refused and shook their heads. I complied and restricted my picture taking to those who agreed and the local scenery.
It was dirty and smelly and the homes were made of mud, tin and some wood structures. The smell of charcoal burning, waste water and African dust filled my nostrils. It was poverty like I had never experienced in my life.
The young man was proud to introduce us to his mother and with the English he knew Randy and Janice were able to communicate their joy in having met him and know all about him and his way of life.
Soon our visit was over and as he guided us back to the church facility he expressed his concern for the running waste water behind the row of houses he lived in. “When it rains, it over flows into the houses,” he told me. I didn’t know what to say in return for we both knew that this was waste water and certainly unhealthy. As we made our way through the narrow pathway I was able to ask him what he planned to do with his life. He expressed an interest in being a travel agent. Or at least that is what I believe he said, his quiet voice and shy way made it difficult to hear him, but what I did sense was a belief that he would get beyond where he was. His favourite subject was Physics he had told Randy. Randy responded with a confession that even he could not grasp that subject.
It was getting late and we had to be at the lodge in Lake Nakuru before the sun set and had a long journey yet to go. Janice and Randy left supplies for the teachers at the school/church, some gifts for the young man and some money for his family for food, and then we were off. Silent and tired. The day had been a long one, but a very gratifying one for me especially, the overload of information in senses was overwhelming and would be set aside for processing once settled in for the evening.
We live in a very affluent country. We take many things for granted. Heated (or in the homes of my friends in the south, air conditioned), well-built, large, comfortable homes. We feel it our right to have such things as electricity, a large refrigerator, stove to cook on and clean running water to drink, cook, shower and bath with. A toilet that flushes gallons of water into sewer systems that treat the waste so that it can be used again. Garbage is picked up regularly and our lawns are manicured weekly by ourselves or someone we may have hired. And we hop in our cars to a grocery store that provides us with food from all over the world, right there to choose from. We worry for little here in this wonderful country I call home. I was to learn the significance of gratitude and more on this trip.
Later that week when telling a local of our story, he informed us that where we were was the biggest slum in Nairobi, Kenya even. He said that many come to the city to try and find work and end up in these slums when they find out that it is not easy to make a fortune in the hustle and bustle of metropolitan living.
To be continued…
(Pictures will be added soon)
Nairobi Street market
Traffic Jam and street peddlers
Make shift homes in the slums
The best part of the trip was seeing the faces of the children
1 comment:
Haven't read anything yet--but I'm glad you're back!!!!!!
Post a Comment