Back to the Watoto: Making It All Happen

I sat and watched a magnificent but frightening lightening show last night after the power went *poof*. The rain was coming sideways onto the deck at WT, but all wrapped in my shuka (Maasai cloth) none of it mattered. It was incredibly beautiful and seemed to last long after I went to bed...

I miss much (everything) about Africa when I am not here. But the storms? They only happen during rainy season, and they are a sight to behold...building up all day, looming and threatening. If they come from the west, they'll be quick or divert. It they come from the east? Hold on. The skies turn black around 2:00pm, a forewarning of things to come. It doesn't just rain when it finally arrives. The skies open up and pour massive buckets. I arrived on October 22 to parched earth. Today, the landscape is a brilliant green, the dry river beds are flowing again and the visible ribs of cows everywhere will soon be replaced by the satisfaction of abundant grasses... We have been blessed by Mother Nature, once again. And it is spectacularly beautiful.

After the storm, at Whistling Thorns

I always get up early on my last day. This morning, the crack of thunder got me up at 4:30, so I went outside to enjoy the pending dawn. The Askari (watchman) brought me, by request, very strong coffee. It was blissful. Birds always forecast weather, if we listen. Here in Africa, they have it down pat. They never quite go to sleep...during the rains they settle down, but at the slightest hint of clearing weather, the chatter begins. Ibis bomb into camp screeching "Wake Up" and fly off before you know what happened. Doves hum and coo in their unique language. Weavers welcome the morning sun. Hyenas settle down and skulk off to some distant dens, never too far away..

I finished my coffee and packed, in an unusual attempt to be organized. By 9:00am, I was finished, and headed to WWC to pick up Rita and Eunice to finish our shopping excursion from yesterday. No go. The rains had destroyed our road - mud was at least 8-12" thick. I'd have to go without them, and let the morning sun do its magic before I could get back up our road. Heading to Kiserian, it got worse. Clearly, they got pounded by the storm. The pot holes actually worsened. I pulled into the petrol station to fill up Tony's car (he loves this). Some idle worker (?) yelled out "How are you, muzungu?" And I read him the riot act. Una joke. "Jina langu ni Simmie, si muzungu. Tabia mbaya!" Scorn, scorn. Chuckle chuckle. "Jeza" Fill it! Eyes are ALWAYS on the pump at a petrol station in Kenya. If not? You are inviting theft. "Who told you to go under the hood?" I barked. Diverting my attention away from the pump, are you!? I don't think so! As always, we laughed together, said our goodbyes, and I drove away smiling.

OH. NO. I turned the corner to the ever familiar security point, praying my "friends" wouldn't be there. No such luck. There stood the guy who got me on Sunday...gesturing with his finger: pull over. "Habari asabuhi. Mr. Kinyanjui" he said. "Do I look like Mr. Kinyanjui" I asked him? He choked back a laugh. "License?" I handed him my idiotic looking International License - you, too, can get one for $100 a pop, it expires in one year. You don't even need to apply. He stared at this thing and asked me "How is America?" "Mzuri kabesa." I answered. (It's great, the best) How is Obama? (As if we're close friends) "Si jui" I shrugged. (I don't know). I had a whole story concocted for this cop, but could sense it wasn't necessary. "Come find me some afternoon and we can have tea. Sawa?" I replied "Don't you think it would be easier for you to find me??" Like a true Kenyan, he doubled over laughing and suddenly pointed his finger at a car in my rear view mirror. Our fun was over and I was free to go. Something tells me we now have a new routine.

After a huge hassle at our bank, I found Tony and told him I had lost confidence to drive on our road with his car, in this weather. Tony seems to really enjoy the little Mitsubishi thing he bought last month (because I wouldn't!) which was supposed to be mine to borrow. Ahem. Speaking of...I do have a confession. When I pulled out of the car wash yesterday, I bumped into a boulder. Eunice was watching. "What was that?" I asked her, craning my neck. "A rock." I didn't think much of it, but after the guy finished wiping down the car, I looked. It was a dent. I have to admit. I am fairly obsessive about dents and scratches on my car at home. Hate them. Yet, within 2 days, I had left Tony's car with evidence of my driving??? Feeling hypocritical and ashamed, I sheepishly told Tony what had happened. "Iko sawa, Simmie. Here in Kenya, these things happen." Sigh. Tonight, on the way to the airport in pouring rain, I told Tony " You know, I am adjusting to driving in Kenya. In America, we pay close attention to other vehicles. Here, there is much to observe: cars, pedestrians, pot holes, road craters, disappearing road and bridges, donkeys, goats, piki piki's, tuk-tuk, lorries, ngombe (cows), sheep and dogs." It's true, all of it. Drivers in Kenya aren't on their cell phones. It's basically not possible, or they would be. They're too busy navigating and avoiding death. All eyes on the road, in every possible direction.

I've seen 7 people get out of one of these death traps.
A Tuk-Tuk. AKA a taxi.

The children were jumping with joy when Tony and I arrived today. We had been talking about them on our ride to WWC. Their characteristics, personalities and personal problems that need to be addressed on a continual basis. I expressed, once again, my deep dissatisfaction with the social workers we have employed.

Tony told me the government is really cracking down on Rescue Centers - after the New Year, they will be properly vetting the staff of each Rescue Center in our county. They will be inspecting each home, unannounced; children will be interviewed. All fabulous news. 2 weeks ago, a Children's Center was shut down due to illegal operations. Much worse, another was shut down due to a rogue manager who believed in traditional customs aka FGM (Female Genital Mutilation). Rescued girls we being forced into harm, by the very people who had salvaged them from their existing trauma. Yesterday, a home in Kitengella (not far) was shut down due to kidnapping of street children, and selling them as sex slaves. Apparently, there is a much needed crack down in place. As I said to Tony: let them begin their vetting with us. We are 100% in compliance and our staff has been properly vetted, complete with certification of qualifications. We all welcome an inspection, and do not need forewarning. That would defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?

"Adults are just outdated children." ~ Dr. Seuss

Helen from Nagolie called Tony last night. "I am surrendering the home." (She must have heard about the impending crackdown). Tony encouraged her to do so immediately, so that the children can be placed in new homes before the school year starts in January. I have seen the children everyday, on their walk home from school. We always stop to chat, but...the fire in their eyes has dimmed and been replaced with a distant fear. They are shabby, poorly kept and hungry. When I tell you I am angry over this situation, it is a gross understatement. Just yesterday, before I sat with the Head Teacher at Ereteti School, a teacher came out to speak with me. I looked over at a child and said to the teacher: "This child needs help. He has fungal infections all over his body. Look at his face. He is sick. What can you do?" His response? "I thought he was one of your children." I bristled visibly, I'm sure. "Hapana. This child is not one of ours. Look at our children. They are the specimen of good health. This child would be receiving medical attention if he were one of ours." The teacher called the boy over. "Ni nyumba wapi yako? (Where is your home?). His reply? "Nagolie Children's Home."

Nagolie will likely be shut down before year end. Yes, we have all heard this prediction before, but now, the time is here. Helen has waved the white flag. She cannot handle the home, cannot handle Agnes' interference, has no means and cannot solicit interested donors. No one will touch Nagolie, it is poison. With the new laws in effect as of January 1st, Helen has no choice but to surrender the home to the Children's Department. Only a manager can give up a Rescue Center, and Helen knows she must do so. I will follow this story very closely in the coming weeks.

"I have found the best way to give advice to your children is to find out what they want and then advise them to do it." ~ Harry S. Truman

The children and I played during our final hours together. The most beautiful thing is, there was no sadness, only resignation that our time together has been rudely interrupted by life. Inspecting the larger than life calendar behind my desk, they all asked "Which day will you return?" "Si jui. Bado." I don't know. Soon. "We need to get our bore hole constructed, right!?!" Peter will come with me to take part in this massive undertaking... Probably early January....either way, we will arrive unannounced.

Despite the last minute news about Nagolie, this trip was full of continued progress, new connections, laughs and a tremendous amount of humor. Tony has a way of turning the sublime into the ridiculous. As he told the story of Helen's phone call while we were driving, I eyeballed him like I usually do, waiting for a bomb to drop and explode. "She said the muzungu was right and she should have listened." Snicker snicker. "She understands now." I did a little jig in my seat and high fived him. Tony and I love these moments, they are like little rewards we both know we deserve. Everywhere I turned there was something humorous to see. If not, Tony and I made it so, and didn't have to try very hard to find multiple reasons to laugh.

Tonight, I leave Africa and our children with a full heart and peace of mind. WWC, if I dare say, is humming like a well oiled machine. The fundi didn't make it to the home today because of the rains, but the addition will be completed shortly. And painted. Tony says it looks "smart" the way it is. "Overruled, Tony. Pole sana!!" (Sorry!) "It gets painted to match the existing dorm, sawa?"

Dorm almost done, Ministry approval for the borehole anticipated by December 15th, three volunteer project managers for drilling (!) RWB getting set up for a return visit in July 2016 (!), chicken project commitment for January from The Rotary Club (!), in discussion with Olesegi Farm and Latifa Training Farm (fairly close by) for assistance with shamba once bore hole is complete, medical clinic at WWC in January, new mattresses and....our children will be moving on to the next grade level when the new school year starts in January. Except for Tiff. Teacher Grace, the Saint who has 53 students in her combination classroom of baby, nursery and pre-unit children, has suggested Tiff stay in baby class next year. I wholeheartedly agree. We are not positive about Tiff's age, because the DCO and her sister reported different ages at the time she came to us. We all think 4 1/2 sounds right.

Denis will be re-integrated back with his mother next month. I requested this back in January, because Denis' mother is stable and had another baby. Denis is one of three of our children who have a living parent. While I appreciate that guardians deem Watoto World Center a loving home for their children, the privilege is not to be abused. I also requested that Eunice and Eric's little sister Michelle join us in Denis' place. Michelle was placed at a Baby Center when WWC opened, because we are unable to take anyone under 3. She should be about 3 1/2 now. Hopefully this request is met next month.

Denis

We will assist Denis' mother with uniforms and one trimester of school fees for his new school, because this is the honorable thing to do. The Social Worker asked me to make provisions for Denis' mother, and I responded gently but truthfully. WWC does not do this, as we believe it creates additional dependency.

From somewhere over the African continent, the distant beating of drums fades. I am very happily on my way home. There were no tears upon departure, just lots of smiles, hugs and open love. It's been a fabulous three weeks. I remain indebted to each and every one of you, and am deeply honored by your commitment and overwhelming generosity to WatotoWorld and Watoto World Center. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. To Peter, Emma, Cary and Tarak, Robert and Bertha, I wouldn't be in the position I am today, without your love, understanding and encouragement to continue my passion.

Thank you for making it all happen.

Nawapenda wote,

Simmie, Esther and Sheila