Whirlwind

Saturday June 9 Arrived in Nairobi 6:35 am on Saturday, June 9. Mumias, a driver who first picked me up at AIM Air on my return from Duk in 2010 and has been driving me ever since, picked me up and drove me to Mayfield Guest house, also run by Africa Inland Missions. Nine of ten plastic totes and bags I checked in Fargo made it. The tenth tote arrived Sunday. I showered and organized my things and then Mumias picked me up and we headed to Nakuru (2 1/2 hour drive) to meet up with Moses and visit the kids in our Kenya program. Moses, the first student who began our program with Joseph Makeer as his sponsor, is now attending college in Eldoret - a two-year civil engineering program. He's our on-the-ground manager, receiving the money we send for tuition and board, clothing, rent and medical care. He pays tuition for ten students at five schools, and reports back to Ron Saeger, our board member in charge of that program, on all expenses and the student's performance in school. He handles medical issues and other matters as well as any parent I've known. This past year has seen our students suffering from malaria, typhoid, intestinal disorders and ulcers. Most recently, one student has been suffering tremendous pain, breathing problems and so on. This has gone on for months, but he has been regularly misdiagnosed--most recently as appendicitis. Moses finally took John to a teaching hospital in Eldoret where they determined he had a cracked sternum and ribs, an injury suffered playing football (soccer). He was captain of his team and a star player. Rest is recommended, and so he is staying at the apartment in Eldoret and attending a day school temporarily as the regimen at Kabimoi is too strict and won't allow him the recuperation time he needs. We met up with Moses at Roots Academy. joining the ranks of parents on the monthly visiting day. Five primary students to see here: Sarah, Abraham, James, Simon, and Daniel. First Daniel appeared from the crowd, a big smile on his face. He looked great--handsome. His skin has cleared from the bumps that had covered it. Moses attributes it to a cream he got for Daniel and Deborah (at Shiner's Girls School - secondary school) who suffered from the same problem. Sarah waited at the table they had saved. A hug, a shy smile. She introduced me to a girlfriend who was sitting with her. With her was her brother Abraham, who has grown taller.  Moses plays the parental role and brings treats on visiting day. The bananas were smashed in the crush of the matatu ride. There were mangos and a fruit I didn't know. The colorful rigid cake frosting had cracked and slipped off the cake sprinkling the bottom of the package. Soon James appeared, but I didn't see Simon until after we visited the teachers.  First we met Madame Margaret, Daniel's teacher. His performance has improved from 190 to 254 - a tremendous gain after his disappointing first term. He has gone from the bottom student to 2nd to the bottom, so there is still room for improvement. I expect he will succed as his attitude has improved towards school, he is working hard, and he is getting along with all our other students. There is not even an "inch" of a problem, Moses reported. Sarah is number four in her second grade class. Sarah is fourteen years old and a year ago couldn't read. Now she is the teacher's pet. Abraham is near the top of his class as well. He's at grade level for his age. James is number four in his class. Simon is near the bottom. Tutoring is not an option for Simon as the class eight regimen has no time available for tutoring. From Roots we went to Shiners Girls High School, but we were unable to see Deborah as she was taking an exam. From there we traveled to Pleasant View Academy, which was anything but pleasant, to see Michael. Michael is in a problem of his own making, having left the good public school he was attending, Narok, for this school. He was the only Sudanese at Narok and was unhappy there. Moses had found him another school, but on his own, he chose PV. The school has been a disaster and this year suffered rioting and damage by students rebelling against the decaying infrastructure. It is hard for us in the US to imagine that a school for which you paid tuition, could be so corrupted and insensitive to students and their families. There are unfinished buildings started four or more years ago. The latrines don't work. The water they use for cooking, drinking, laundry is contaminated. There is no effort put into fixing these things. Enrollment has dropped from 400 to 70. Michael has paid for the full term and is in Form Three. There is little chance of moving him this year. And even for next year, schools do not like to accept new students for Form Four. Yet PV has little chance of opening up again next term. Michael also suffers from ulcers and the school is not giving him the special diet we have paid for. No chance to visit Kabimoi and see Joseph as it is too far away. Moses had to return to Eldoret for class at his college. John is in Eldoret recovering from his  long-misdiagnosed injury--cracked sternum and ribs from football. And attending a day school there until he is well enough to return.

Going with the Flow AKA: Travel Tips

LOVING DELTA When embarking from Fargo, North Dakota on Delta via Minneapolis and Amsterdam to Nairobi, Kenya for the sixth time in nineteen months with few irregularities, its easy to assume such will always be the case. Especially when the Fargo check-in crew makes tremendous effort on behalf of ASAH and GETTING OUR STUFF there. Apparently from this point, I will have to apply to Customer Service of our many bags of supplies--underwear and sanitary pads to keep girls in two villages in school at puberty plus clothing and supplies for the ASAH School for Orphan Girls, now open in Duk Payuel, my final destination. TOO MUCH FUEL Have you ever had a flight delayed because the incoming plane had been overfilled with fuel and had to fly around for an extra hour or so to burn off the load? That's what happened Thursday, June 7 while I sat in the gate area waiting for what I expected to be a non-eventful trip. REBOOKING Announcement. Calls to the gate for rebooking. Angry business passengers shouting through the cell lines to the agents on the other end. Deep and heavy sigh for me. At the beginning of a trip I'm all excitement and optimism, but fatigued or anxious, I'm capable of tears and an angry tone myself. My cell rang and a Delta agent prepared to find another option for me as I would miss my connection in Minneapolis. The option to fly Minneapolis, Detroit, Paris, Nairobi sounded excellent, but the Paris flight was on Kenya airlines, and when I asked about my TEN bags, she said Kenya Air couldn't accommodate them. I needed to stay on Delta/KLM. Some options involved me going home (with all the luggage) and coming back in the morning arriving in Kenya Saturday night, the 9th. This wasn't a great option since my plan was to travel to Nakuru on Saturday to meet up with Moses, one of our Sudanese orphans in the Kenya Kids program. Moses is now in college, and we had plans to attend visiting day at the five primary and secondary schools in Nakuru where the other nine students are enrolled. THE BEST OF THE TERRIBLE OPTIONS There are two other Delta flights to Amsterdam--the earlier one was full, the second one would have me missing the connection and put me in Amsterdam for more than 24 hours resulting in having to reclaim and then recheck my bags. In the end I chose to fly to Minneapolis and overnight there. The bags could remain in Delta's custody (involuntary travel change) and I could fly out Friday afternoon on the same flight I was to have taken the day before. This still had me missing visiting day at the schools, but while I was working things out with the agent on the phone, one of the Fargo crew (Kyle and Annie--they're the greatest!) came by and said--what are they doing for you? I gave him the info--he thought he could do better. As the call concluded, the phone agent told me I had to go back and check-in again for the new ticketing. At check-on, Kyle said he'd gotten me on the 7pm to Amsterdam, which I had been told was full. That turned out to be nearly true--obviously I got a seat, but there would be only a 30 minute window in Amsterdam to go through security and board the flight to Nairobi. Once boarded in the cities, we were delayed 15 minutes, then 30, then 45 though the flight attendant suggested we might make up that time in the air. Which we did. Still, I arrived in Amsterdam just as my Nairobi flight took off. THE SURE-TO-MISSED MISSED CONNECTION Rebooked once again, this time leaving at 9 pm Amsterdam time, which is the time I was to have arrived in Nairobi. Now I'll get there at 6:30 Saturday morning which allows me to get to Nakuru to visit the kids, the initial goal. YOTELING Though I managed to sleep a few hours on the flight to Amsterdam, I was pretty bone tired upon arrival. And then I saw a sign for Yotel. Tiny pod rooms available by the hour. Four hours for 44 Euros got me room 53, a single comfy bed with clean sheets, down comforter, two pillows, a pull-down table with a fold up camp stool and a tiny shower, sink and toilet area, and an alarm clock to wake me up. Nearly four luxurious hours of laying-flat sleep. Could life be better? HAND & FOOT PAMPERING As I write this I'm having a pedicure thinking of the tremendous contrasts in my life, which is mostly privileged. On Monday I will travel to the village of Duk Payuel where I will be sleeping either in a tent or a tukul. It's the rainy season where the temperature can rise to 100 F, or drop to 60. The winds can destroy a tent, life a thatched roof off a hut and pull enormous trees out by the roots. People live a marginal existence where malnutrition borders on starvation for many. I'm not feeling sorry for myself on this journey, but each visit reminds me that life is tenuous for many people on our planet. A pedicure is a luxury, and I'm grateful that my circumstances allow me to participate in the pampering, but my work with ASAH has opened my eyes to existence at its most basic level. ASAH School is a luxury for girls. The twelve ASAH girls between the ages of 10 and 17, were all orphaned. The causes are varied. Our selection process includes need, ability, desire to join our program, the guardian's willingness to allow their attendance and agreement to let the girl to finish her education instead of selling her puberty for the cattle dowry. The girls were selected from across the village so that no single chief (there are several in Duk Payuel) is shown favoritism. On this trip, we hope to add four additional girls from two neighboring villages. Follow the blog for updates. I promise no more news of pedicures or flight announcements.

Throwing Out Best Laid Plans

March 5, 2012

The plan was: Leave Fargo March 1. Arrive Nairobi late evening March 2. Fly with AIM Air to Duk Payuel on the 3rd. Move into the ASAH Boarding School for Orphan Girls and help orient the first twelve ASAH girls into the place they will call home during the school terms. Stay until the 16th and fly with AIM to Juba, where I will stay for a week with Manyok to procure materials and supplies for our compound, and the Maras and Jef will fly JETLINK to Nairobi.

Soon enough it became clear that if we wanted the ASAH girls to move in while we were present, Manyok and I needed to go NOW to Juba to procure the materials to fix the water tower. If you watched our exciting video of the raising of the tower, you know that I left Duk Payuel expecting that very soon we would have functioning toilets and showers. It was not to be. The steel tube platform on top of the tower had been welded with the four -inch side of the 2 X 4 inch tubes laying flat instead of skinny side up, which offers greater strength. When our tank was filled with water, the tubes began to bend. The tank was taken down. It still provides water but is not at a height to provide water pressure to run the toilets and showers.

As it seems to go, as the need arises, opportunity presents itself. IMA World Health, the new medical group that may or may not take over the neighboring NGO compound now being vacated by IRD, had a car traveling to Bor, the capitol of Jonglei state. This is about 125 miles, I believe, though the drive takes five or more hours. I'm not sure that 125 miles is an accurate measurement, but that is what people have told me, and it seems about right. The road conditions are so bad, the vehicle is sometimes traveling at only 10 or 20 km per hour. This is the kind of ride where the handles above the doors and on the dash are held.

When I asked Mike Wagner, former JDF clinic manager, if we could hitch a ride—he said, "Are you willing to sit in the back?" As it turned out, I shared the middle seat with two men, and Manyok sat with the luggage and a Sudanese woman on the bench seats in the back of the Land Cruiser.

During the long and rough ride, I got to know Kon, one of the clinic staff, a little better. He's a quiet guy amongst a lot of boisterous Sudanese at the JDF clinic, so we hadn't talked much in the past.

My other seatmate, Jacob Nuer Deng, who works for IMA World Health in Juba, asked me where I lived in the US. When I said "Fargo," he said, "My sister lives in Fargo." "Who's your sister?" "Sarah Deng." "I KNOW Sarah," I said. "She spoke at our Get Your Panties in a Bunch Lunch in 2011, and she attends Christ the King Lutheran Church in Moorhead which is currently raising money so that we can bring more girls into our program."

You don't know how small the world really is until you meet someone new in South Sudan whose sister lives in your community in the United States—especially when the community is the size of Fargo-Moorhead. Miriam remarked that it's strangely comforting, and I agree.

We had intended to get hotel rooms and fly in the morning, but Kon was planning to get public transport. He was on his way to visit his wife in Juba. We elected to share the cost of a taxi and keep going.

The road from Bor to Juba is longer—about 153 miles, according to a Google search—but somewhat faster at around four hours. Improved in some stretches, undergoing construction in others, but still potholed and difficult to navigate in places. We had to pull over at a bridge near Juba as a convoy of about 100 military vehicles crossed the one-lane bridge. They were part of a deployment of 150,000 soldiers heading to Jonglei state to begin disarming the tribes, to reduce the tribal violence, particularly between the Murle and the Nuer tribes, that has plagued parts of the state since independence, causing deaths and destruction of villages.

Getting to Duk Payuel

Even though I know I've asked the veteran ASAH folks numerous times what it's like to get to Duk Payuel, South Sudan, I can never remember what they tell me. In fact, I pretty much cannot remember much of anything they have told about their experience (with the exception of some vague do-goodery). Now I know why--it's just so different that there is almost nothing I can do to explain it unless you have gone to a remote location with almost no modern infrastructure.

Getting there seems normal enough, if by "normal," you mean piling into a missionary plane, bumping across national borders, running across a desert tarmac in front of UN planes, and landing on barely-maintained dirt airstrips.

Taking off was easier than flying commercially. We had an early-morning visit to Nairobi's second airport (Wilson), had a security guard look us up and down to see if we looked O.K. ("sawa sawa"), and were then let directly onto the tarmac for boarding. A visit to the duty-free shop (no, we didn't buy or take any of the single-malt scotch choices to the village), the bathroom, and we were ready to strap into the AIM flight over the Kenyan landscape.

Our first stop was Eldoret, a high-altitude airport that seemed more modern than Wilson. We picked up some fuel and chatted a bit with the pilots (who were both the kind of American Evangelical flyboys that I grew up around--pretty much seemed like the prelude to my high school FCA meetings). These two lads let us listen to their music (Christian praise music--though no Rich Mullins, surprisingly), and to their conversations about loving Nicholas Kristof--despite his politics--and George Clooney's impending visit to South Sudan.

Flying over the green Kenyan hills, through the ever-drier landscape into Juba, and over the burned scrub into Duk Payuel gradually sucked my spirits into my gut. "What in the hell am I doing here?" was the question that kept going through my mind. The pilots threatened to not land the plane, as they could not verify that the village was safe. En route, the pilots were able to get through and verify that there was no violence currently in Duk Payuel, and we were cleared to land. As the plane finally lowered onto the rustic airstrip of Duk Payuel, and we emerged into the heat, the feeling only intensified, and I was nearly frantic. 

We unloaded the plane, the pilots said their good byes, and the plane rumbled down the same airstrip for immediate departure. As the plane quickly buzzed out of view, Miriam and I thought that this might be the longest two weeks of our lives.

I don't remember anyone ever telling us anything remotely like this, but perhaps we just didn't want to remember   

Not All Palm Trees Produce Coconuts

March 4

Our site is difficult to see from the air because of the many trees, which provide shade and beautify our compound. I don't know the names of most of them in English, but some are banyon-type trees. Banyons spread by producing long tendrils from branches that root into the ground creating a network of many trees that are all connected. We have tiny-leafed shade trees that produce a mess of leaves swept daily by the cleaners at the compound, we have broad-leafed trees, and we have a number of palm trees. When we acquired the site in November 2012, I was pleased to see coconuts nested in the palm leaves and had looked forward to being here when the coconuts were ready to eat. When the ASAH girls produced one, I was game to try it, but I've seen coconuts with the husk on—the thick covering before the dark brown "wood" we're accustomed to seeing in the grocery store—and this looked nothing like what I expected.

Up close and peeled, this huge fruit was yellow-brown. No white coconut meat inside. I had a taste and was put off by the stringy texture and the taste. I can't now remember to report on it, only that it wasn't pleasant enough to request a second bite. Josh from the clinic told me these are palm nuts and they produce oil, but I haven't been able to find anything on the Internet that matches what I saw.

Arrival in South Sudan

March 3

With a long day of flights planned for the caravan, we had two pilots. The rules only allow for so many hours of flight time per pilot per day and per week. We waited as the freight crew loaded the plane with our cargo, the fresh fruits and vegetables AIM purchased for ASAH, plus the school uniforms, sweaters, blankets and other supplies that Andrew and Miriam selected for us to carry to the village.

To allow for more cargo, the pilots reduce the fuel load and make additional stops to fuel. We flew two hours from Nairobi to Eldoret, refueled and then flew another 2 ½ hours to Juba. There Jef and I purchased Visas to South Sudan—single entry, one month--$100 each. Miriam and Andrew paid the same price in Nairobi in a process that took three days at the embassy, requiring the visa seeker to leave their passport behind in the process.

The flight from Juba to Duk is only about an hour, and though the pilots kindly circled our site so that we could take some aerial shots and video of our site, giving our people some time to hear the plane and get to the airstrip, we landed to a greeting party of children only. Planes land here often enough these days that it doesn't draw the entire community as it once did, and from our site, the airstrip is a good 20 or 25 minute walk.

Soon, Manyok, our program director, and Dau, our program manager, arrived. Then Akuol, one of our ASAH girls whose extended family lives near the airstrip, came running up and gave me a big hug. Soon, six more ASAH girls arrived in a group.

Our cargo was unloaded—here the pilot has no freight crew to help, so we all pitch in. The pilots had a quick turn around, and we backed off the strip for their take off. Then wondered how to get the cargo to our site. The JDF Lost Boy Clinic vehicle has been out of commission since the rainy season last summer, and the IRD vehicle was away and not expected for a few hours, so our ASAH girls carried our personal bags on their heads to the clinic, and we left the rest behind for a vehicle.

At the clinic, as usual, the cooks treated us to a lunch of beans and rice, enhanced by the delicious chili sauce condiment—though it's a challenge to pour a small amount from the two-liter plastic container.

The baggage-laden ASAH girls accompanied us from the clinic to the ASAH site. I was anxious to see the progress since my last trip here in November/December 2011. The first change was noticeable from afar. Our tukuls, adobe thatched huts, which blend in with the dusty gray of the sandy ground in the dry season, now stand out, painted bright white with a blue base. Our vehicle and pedestrian gates are now attached (painted with the same color scheme) with white globe lights topping the entrance posts. Beyond the tukuls, the toilet and shower block is also blue and white. The building materials that had previously littered the site were now in a neat pile in the background.

On the other side of the compound, I was happy to see our temporary kitchen, built of iron sheet with mesh wire windows. Inside the cooks were already preparing food for our dinner over the concrete wood-burning stove. Jef is here to help design the kitchen and dining hall we badly need before the rainy season in July. We're raising funds for this now.

Manyok assigned one of the large dorm tukuls for Miriam and Andrew to share. Jef and I are each in smaller staff tukuls, and Manyok and Sam Leek, our main teacher, are sharing the tent I stayed in last fall.

As I settled into my tukul, set up my bed and organized my cameras and baggage, the girls pushed open the door and started filing in, sitting on the mattress across from me. I had them go outside and knock and ask, "May I come in?" (The next day, Sam Leek incorporated that bit of polite behavior into his lessons.) The girls are visiting the site daily, but have not moved in as our toilets and showers are not yet functioning. One of our tasks on this visit is to oversee the welding of a new platform for our water tank. The 2" X 4" bars of the first platform were improperly placed with the wide side down, which didn't provide enough strength to hold the weight of the 6000 Liter tank. In the meantime, two temporary iron sheet showers have been constructed. This requires a hose and buckets. We are a three minute walk from the IRD compound, and they are willing to share their bathing and toilet facilities with us kuwajas (foreigners).

The girls in my tent looked at me expectantly. I opened my bag to find some treats to share and came across my package of black licorice, a favorite of mine, but not to everyone's taste. They were suspicious, but each of them accepted a second stick.

Miriam, Andrew and a few of the girls played a rousing game of volleyball. On Facebook, I posted some pics of one of the girls, Akon, playing with Andrew in the background.

Our Internet access is more limited than in the past as I must come to IRD to use it when the generator is on, which is often when we are busy with the girls or eating meals. So my postings will be delayed.

The Journey Begins

March 1- 2, 2012

Jef Foss, ASAH board member and architect, and I began our journey to Duk Payuel on March 1st, leaving Fargo on Delta airlines at one pm. Once again, Delta's service proved both charitable and helpful, allowing us to check 15 bags of supplies for the ASAH Home and School for Girls including the panties and washable sanitary pads donated to us at our recent "Get Your Panties in a Bunch" lunch in Fargo. These panties and pads will be distribute through the school in Duk Payuel and to neighboring communities as well.

We flew Fargo to Minneapolis; Minneapolis to Amsterdam; Amsterdam to Nairobi. Nearly 24 hours later with an eight-hour shift in time we arrived at Jomo Kenyatta. At 9 pm local time, we proceeded to immigration for our transit visas—available instantly at the airport, retrieved all 15 bags and headed toward customs at the exit. The agents asked a few questions about the contents and destination of the bags and waived us through.

The driver took us to Mayfield Guest House run by Africa Inland Missions, a mission organization that flies religious and humanitarian groups into remote areas with inadequate or unsafe roads like Duk Payuel, South Sudan. Jef was to share a room with another guest, who was already in bed for the night. We stay at Mayfield on most of our trips through Nairobi, and they are often bustling with missionaries and their families and others working on projects in South Sudan and Kenya. When they are full, they ask if we are willing to share rooms.

At Mayfield I saw Samuel, one of the drivers I met on an earlier trip. Samuel procured Moringa (Olifera) seeds for us to plant at the ASAH Home and School for Girls. The plant has tremendous nutritional and medicinal value. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Moringa_oleifera

From Mayfield, the driver drove me down the street to the Fairview, where Andrew and Miriam Mara, NDSU professors in Nairobi on sabbatical, are staying. Andrew and Miriam sponsor two of our Sudanese students in boarding school in Kenya. They had invited me to stay in the guest bedroom in their apartment. We all rose before dawn to travel to Wilson Airport by 6:30 am for our flight to Duk Payuel.