Nathaniel Hsieh: Kenya Fellow, USC

After about an hour and a half drive on dirt roads (a term generously used) that left many more than car sick, we finally arrived in Entasekera. This Maasai community, while small, contained a health center, Female Genital Mutilation CBO, secondary school, and special needs center. Considering the nature of my research I was extremely excited to visit the special needs center, but I don’t think anything could quite prepare me for what we were about to see and experience. As soon as we reached the center which was situated on top of a small hill, a lady approached us with a huge smile and outstretched hand. “Hi, my name is Franceska,” she began, and before long we were walking around the complex toward her office. A sign on one of the walls read “Namelok-Naretoi Home for Handicapped” and she explained that “Namelok-Naretoi” meant “sharing success”- in essence what the center aimed to do with all who were involved, disabled and “able” alike.  Once inside, Franceska began sharing her story which, we soon realized, was inextricably intertwined with the story of Namelok-Naretoi. Twenty years ago, Franceska embarked on a journey to simply gather data regarding people affected by disability in the surrounding yet remote Maasai villages. Being herself a Maasai, she knew that a large part of what she would be doing was finding disabled children who were often times hidden by communities who regarded them as cursed. After a few years of intensive field work and research, Franceska commenced her campaign to raise awareness in these communities, tearing down deep-seated communal beliefs that disability resulted from curses, witchcraft, and divine punishment and establishing a new paradigm that affirmed people with disabilities as made in the image of God and hence extremely valuable. This effort to simply effect a cultural paradigm shift lasted for four to five years before Franceska realized the need to do something with the handicapped children she had successfully brought out of hiding. Thus around fifteen years ago Franceska began Namelok-Naretoi as a rehabilitation center which purposed to provide disabled children with necessary surgeries and therapies at hospitals and centers she was familiar with because of her background as a nurse. The eventual goal was to provide these children with an education whether it be through integration into schools for “typical” children or placement into appropriate special schools. Though she admitted it was not easy (at times she even carried children on her back from their village to the center) the corkboard on the back wall of her office testified to the fact that her labor was not in vain. Pinned on literally every square inch of the board were pictures of success story after success story- one girl with sever hydrocephalus who now looks completely normal and is in secondary school, one boy with clubbed feet who can now walk, boys and girls with cleft lips, debilitating burns, cerebral palsy and more who are now living and learning to the fullest of their abilities. Over the years Franceska has helped over 150 of the neediest children in the region with the financial backing of a Dutch organization which aims to support children with disabilities worldwide. Due to the economic downturn a few years back however, this organization has not been able to give the Franceska the funds needed to keep the center running. “The problem is no longer cultural stigma- mothers are bringing their disabled children to my door- it is that I cannot take more children,” Franceska explained, “I can barely take care of the ones I already have.” Franceska runs a small hotel business using some of the rooms, refuses to take a salary for herself, takes abandoned children home with her during the holidays, and receives help from only two former students (both of whom have disabilities) in order to support the 14 children living at Namelok-Naretoi and the 16 plus who are being sponsored to attend school. Still, she smiles. I honestly don’t know how she does it and felt humbled to be in the presence of someone who has- without attention, appreciation, or praise- sacrificed so much. All I know is that on the drive back to Ilkerin, my focus was no longer on the bumpiness of the roads. I had been changed by this experience which has, for me, been the definitive moment of the trip thus far. Not only have I been given new direction for my research, I want to do all I can to “share success” with Namelok-Naretoi and enable Franceska to continue the remarkable work she has already begun. 

Guenevieve Del Mundo: Kenya Fellow, UC Davis

Every once in a while I get a movie montage moment - a flood of flashbacks set to some sappy reflective song or hum.  Today’s trailer of memories was triggered by a ridiculously warm welcoming performance by the students of the Ilkerin Primary School.  Words cannot and will not capture the feeling and emotion that all the fellows felt. Hopefully this small glimmer can shine light on the warmth the community shared with us. 

Imagine a large empty concrete hall.  There are a few windows scattered across three of the walls and the last has a large counter used to deliver our food.  There are two long rectangle tables set side by side with green and blue tablecloths on top of it.   All sixteen of us are seated, eating another delicious dinner (the usual goat, cabbage, Ugali - a Kenyan favorite - and couscous) cooked by Mary.  We all eagerly finish our food, knowing the children are outside waiting to perform for us.   As the last plates are gathered the blue double doors burst open with dozens of students. Kids who were no taller than my knee were carrying large benches and tables from their classrooms into the hall.  For a good thirty minutes the hall was filling up with the every student that boarded with the school.  For the first time since we’ve arrived, all the students and fellows were united under one roof.  Once everybody calmed down the clamor of voices settled into whispers then finally into silence as Jeremiah, one of the teachers (and also the host for the boys of our fellowship), introduced the production. 

I was overwhelmed by what they had prepared for us.  I genuinely felt like Julius Caesar when Cleopatra visited, it was truly a performance fit for a king.  Gospel songs were sung, traditional dances were danced, and comedic dramas dramatized (I’m pretty sure it was something about a radio station; it was all in Kiswahili so we took our giggling cues from the rest of the audience).   Laughter was shared harmoniously among ourselves and the children. I was overcome with emotion during their songs.  This is when it hit me, I’m in Kenya.  The highlights of the past week played in my head to the song of the Ilkerin students:

The relief I felt when I saw another fellow, Hong, at the Amsterdam airport

The image of a mother cheetah caring for its two-day-old baby

The hundreds of thousands of wildebeests and zebras we stalked during their migration

The walking safari that ended with a view of the entire Maasai Mara and a tour of a modest Maasai village

The bus ride through Kenyan mountains

The applause we received as our bus pulled into the school  (literally the entire student body, in their uniforms, stood at the gate and applauded at our entrance)

The Health Club singing their competition piece for me.

The endless games the fellows and I played with the children.

The moments where a child calls my name out to say “Hi” or “How are you”

The countless inside jokes and fits of laughter I have shared with my fellow fellows.

Beautiful voices powering beautiful memories.

The guests of honor (us fellows) had front row seats and were laughing and bouncing along with all of the performances.  Finally, as the show came to a close, Joseph - another one of the teachers, called upon us to share a little bit of our talents and culture with them.  We all stood up knowing whatever we came up with on the spot would be underwhelming in relation to theirs.  Facing the audience, you could see that there was a full house- students were standing on their tables to see over their classmates.  We decided on the national anthem, the so-cal roll out, and the fight song - all of which was a blast to perform (although I’m not quite sure what it was like to watch).   Regardless, the audience roared into applause as another one of our fellows walked across the stage with his hands.  Their excitement was heartwarming to say the least.   The evening ended with a prayer and rounds of applauses.  We left the building in a wondrous daze.  This is a night I will never forget.

The soil that the human race was born on.  The soul of the country.  The joy of the kids.  I’m in love. Kenya is a country full of culture, filled with people so welcoming and so willing to share.  I feel so at home, so honored, and so humbled to be here.  It has only been five days and already I have fallen in love with this country and its people.  “Asante sana.”  

Amy Regan: Kenya Fellow, NYU

Today we interviewed Abel, the headmaster.  Following Abel’s interview was Jane’s, the newest teacher at the school, only 24 years old.  Jane is a stunning Maasai woman, thin with curly hair and the outfit typical of teachers the world over; a floor-length skirt suit.  She is married with two children, and teaches the 140 or so 3-6 year old children in Early Childhood Development.  She was sweet and silly with an infectious giggle that came tumbling out throughout the interview.  After, we found a group of girls practicing songs for church in one of the classrooms.  We audio recorded as much as we could with an empty battery, and the girls kept singing and singing for us.  A crowd of students followed Zippy as she filmed, and a smiley little girl named Mariam climbed into Lexi’s lap.  I ran out of batteries and ran to the house where the group is staying to pick up more.  On my walk to the house, two girls named Brenda and Patricia were gathering firewood by the road.  I walked with them and we chatted casually about their day at school.  They are boarding students who stay with one of the teachers, Edna who gave me her green scarf when I complimented it on the first day.  As the three of us walked, each of them carrying firewood and me carrying toilet paper for Moses’ house.  We passed the Catholic Church where a much smaller group of students were practicing songs for mass.  The girls walked me to the school gate, and quickly returned to summon me to their home where Edna wanted me to visit.  I stayed for over an hour in a wonderful visit with my new friend.  She is also, incidentally, Mariam’s mother, the girl I had met just an hour before.  The three of us enjoyed traditional Kenyan tea that Brenda and Patricia prepared.  It was an odd separation of the girls who were boarding- Brenda and Patricia- and the family of the house- Enda and Mariam.  Edna’s husband is a teacher in a school 3 hours away, and walks back and forth each weekend.  Edna is in a masters’ program in Nairobi, hoping to earn a higher income for her family and guests.  Currently she feeds and houses 9 boys and girls.  I regretfully left Edna’s after giving her my email and hoping to keep in touch, and went to dinner with the rest of the group. 

After dinner we had a treat.  The pastor, Jeremiah, had prepped the students to perform for us.  All the boarders filed in behind the few rows of visitors.  The first to perform was the youngest group, singing a sweet song of praise.  Then there was a skit of a radio broadcast in Maa, which made it funnier than the expected Swahili, and those in the audience other than the American visitors were roaring with laughter.  The final 2 songs were the highlight of the trip by far.  The first was a warrior song and dance of all boys, with harmonizing chants that blended the younger tenor and older bass.  The faces of the boys were full of focused pride, continuing the traditions of the Maasai warriors.  Many of the boys will leave school to study warriorism after they are circumcised.  They will live together and uphold the traditions of their ancestors, a distinguished honor that many anticipate throughout their primary years and is a reason that some boys do not continue to secondary attendance.  For the final song, the girls joined the boys in a celebration song that was literally too big for the space.  The students sang in unison, with a few boys and girls leading the chants accompanied by a solitary instrument, the long dark horn of an impala.  It was a perfect end to a perfect day.  

Divya Rao: Kenya Fellow, USC

So far this journey has been incredible and incredibly different than my time in Ghana with Blue Kitabu. Our trip started off with a two-day retreat at Camp Oldarpoi next to the Maasai Mara to safari and take in the vastness that is the reserve. This was probably the first time that I’ve been completely stunned into silence—the magnificence of the never-ending savannah blending into the horizon with hundreds of animals dotting the sun-touched plains is truly unforgettable. The sounds on the safari only made the experience more intense—fast Maa and Swahili buzzing through a radio next to the rumble of our safari bus, and the rustling of tall dry grasses in the wind while wildebeest and zebra scatter in front of us. It’s honestly no surprise that the best sightings of the trip were completely unexpected—a female cheetah nursing her baby, a male lion dozing in the midday heat, groups of elephants traveling with their young, giraffes frolicking in the morning, the wildebeest migration, and hippos relaxing in the few pools of water remaining in the Mara.

On our last day at Camp Oldarpoi (and Mayra’s birthday!) we got to go on a walking safari up the mountain behind the camp and then go to the Maasai village that the camp supports. We were escorted by three incredibly patient Maasai warriors, who let us try our hand at both archery and throwing various weapons without fear of us destroying everything (a very real possibility).  At the village we were greeted by the traditional dances of the men and women. Also, we were able to visit a boma—the traditional home of a Maasai, which was surprisingly small, cramped, and dark. We also got to watch how the Maasai traditionally make fire—by rubbing a slender stick into a flat piece of polished wood to make small embers, which added to kindling make fire.

After being surrounded by nature and watching these endangered animals simply living, my desire to pursue my research project on elephant poaching has most definitely been confirmed regardless of the many obstacles in my way. I’ve already had the opportunity to interview the founder of Camp Oldarpoi, and our amazing guide, Nelson, who’s given me really interesting information about the situation regarding elephant poaching in the Maasai Mara. I’m looking forward to the leads that I have in Narok and new opportunities to learn about poaching in Ilkerin!