Gladys, Leonard, and I met for two hours Tuesday morning to review the projects at hand. We broke them down by description, then estimated cost, and then by priority. I have created a spreadsheet on my laptop to track projects and costs against the donated funds.

While the completion of the electrical wiring for the second and third floors of the new school building is important, the connecting of a well-fed cistern to the new bathrooms, a 50m+ run, is imperative as the Nakuru sanitation authority has condemned the current facility, disallowing additional removal of waste. The full assembly of students (400+) return to school in just a few weeks, so we have little time.

Eager to jump into the projects, Gladys introduced me to Isaac, a bright young man who lives at Pistis and attends a school off-site, as someone who can assist me with finding tools, supplies, and coordinating labor forces.

He and I walked to a third and then fourth hardware store (one-room store fronts that offer a surprising array of necessities) in search of shovels and spades. I asked Isaac if he would attend college. He shared that while his grades were in the B+/A- category, ample to potentially win a government scholarship, he desires to join the military first and become a fighter pilot. I stated that his goal was very good. He added that he wanted to live and to die like a man. I concluded, smiling, “And to die going very, very fast.” He laughed and agreed.

Isaac is humble, for I later learned from Gladys that he knows nothing of his biological parents and was raised on the streets by whomever would take him in and yet he is top ranked in the nation for his scholastic achievement. He graduates next year, his proper British English damn near perfect with a vocabulary that baffles me. When he speaks, he commands attention. When he takes charge, the kids follow. And when he and I talk, we cover a half dozen subjects as though we have been talking for as many years. Isaac aspires to be a fighter pilot. From the streets of Nakuru to the skies of Africa, what an amazing story he will tell.

The transition to any country is one of training the body to accept the new time zone, learning the social norms through sometimes awkward trial and error, and adjusting to differences in food and language. In my coming here, I have perhaps more than any of my travels, grown to be aware of the beauty in the basics that we all share.

Every child in the academy laughs. Every child plays. Every child has more than one hundred brothers and sisters with whom they have lived for a few months to a half dozen years. Through basketball, soccer, blowing bubbles, washing clothes, brushing hair, and helping with projects, these children are receiving support, hope, and joy. Pistis is a selfless refuge that allows the children to just be children, their basic needs covered and time for play guaranteed.

The boys and girls wash their own clothes, eat meals from over-turned frisbees with spoons whose handles are missing, and have but one change of clothes. And yet the children’s personal dignity transcends the challenge of their immediate surroundings.

A boy of sixteen or seventeen years introduced himself to me when we began to dig the trench for the water pipe. He wielded one of the new pick-axes (“jemba” is the local name) and said with a wide smile, “I am Bernard. I am Maasai”. His first name he pronounced with soft consonants and ‘Maasai’ carried the haunting depth of a whisper in a narrow passage. Perhaps the images in my mind were reinforced by Hollywood films, but a chill moved down my spine for the strength of his tribal conviction and pride in his people.

I have a house filled with things that I do not need, but do not know both the first and last name of my neighbors two houses down. The children of the orphanage and surrounding families own virtually nothing and yet they have community. They love and support each other in a way that perhaps only the farmers of our Midwest knew when family farms were spaced every mile and survival depended upon community.

I arrived to Nairobi at approximately 9 pm Sunday night. The solar panels did not arrive with the plane. I spent two hours trying to find them, both physically walking the floor of the baggage claim area where a dozen piles containing countless lost items were scattered about. I have a sense that all airports harbor this level of misplaced baggage, just not usually on display for all to see.

I registered as much info as the baggage claim manager would take, then took a taxi to the city center at 11 pm and stayed the night in a hotel more expensive than that which I intended, my first choice booked. My attempts at negotiation were thwarted by an intellect less tired and more accustomed to midnight math.

I slept well, awoke at 6, and headed out on my own to purchase a SIM card for my recently unlocked cell phone, my desire to obtain a local Kenyan number. I learned that my phone was useless, my lack of signal in London repeated in Nairobi. An hour later, I found a ‘cell phone hacker’ a kilometer from my hotel. I traded a set of Linux CDs and 3 hamburgers for the successful upgrade to the European 900MHz range (AT&T was incorrect in their assessment of my phone’s functions, having failed to note mention the differences
between the A and B models).

I met Leonard, the Principal of the Pistis Orphanage and Academy. He and I hit it off perfectly. A wonderfully humorous and strong hearted man who assists his sister Gladys, the founder and Director of Pistis, with organization and management of the facilities, classes, and staff. On foot we crossed central Nairobi a few times in search of a geographic map of Kenya for a classroom, calling the airport baggage services every second hour to gain an update for the missing panels. No one answered. And while we found some good books for the school library, no maps made themselves available.

At 6 pm we gave up and boarded a Nissan transport designed to seat eleven, but as Leonard explained, until recent government intervention, often carried as many as twenty (apparently, a few on the outside). Having taken public transport and taxis in several countries, I was prepared for the excitement, else it would have likely been one of the more frightening rides of my life (through which Leonard slept). We zipped along the broken, heavily potted highway at daredevil velocities. How the axles remained on the vehicle is a testament to Japanese engineering and Kenyan maintenance.

We arrived in Nakuru, a city of approximately 300,000 at roughly 8:30 pm and switched taxis at a small plaza where a late-night butcher shop and restaurant with live music doubled as a taxi depot. A few minutes later we bumped up a rutted, muddy alley to the exterior wall of a dwelling compound in which Gladys and her family live. We ducked through the bright turquoise steel door-within-a-door and were immediately, warmly greeted by a portion of her immediate family.

Late night conversation was supported by chai (hot milk, water, black Kenyan tea and sugar), “Jambo” brand cookies, and steamed greens over rice. More than simply welcomed, I have been given a comfortable place in the Wakesa family home. Never in my life have I been made to feel so quickly and fully accepted. I hope only that I will repay in full the generosity, time, and care through my work at the orphanage.

A quick tali of the donations thus far shows that we have to date received $3404.33 USD and $1200 in solar panels. With my personal, out-of-pocket expenses (airfare, lodging, food), the total U.S. dollar value of contributed funds will be over $7500.

Thank you everyone for your contributions and support! Please note that while I leave in less than two weeks, any funds contributed prior to my departure or during my time in Kenya will be made available to the active projects at the Pistis academy and orphanage through SPAN and Terra Soft.

Thank you!
kai

I am pleased to have receieved monetary donations from Terra Soft, a Hack-a-thon attendee, the law offices of HKE (our attorney), and my family for a total of $1500. In addition, my high school physics professor, with whom I have remained in touch all these years, today donated 8 solar panels worth more than $1200. My father and I will this weekend build shipping crates in order to bring them to Kenya as checked luggage.

We are off to a good start, but could use another ~$1500 in order to tackle the projects proposed. More donations are needed with just 3 weeks until my departure.

Thank you!
kai

Outside My Experience
In my life there are but two events that I hold of true value, experiences that I cherish over all else I have done with my career, family, or friends.

In 1995 I spent a month in Poland, designing and then coordinating the construction of a 2000 sq-ft, outdoor playground for the children of Salmopolska, in the mountains outside of Bielsko-Biawa. As the manager of the project with children and adults from 7 countries, it was an incredible experience of long, hard days, adventure and laughter that I will never forget.

In 2001, I ventured to work at a high school in Oshigambo, a small town in northern Namibia, Africa. I assisted the teachers and students in the reconstruction of their computer lab, helping to upgrade the antiquated but functional x86 computers with what parts and pieces were available, as well as introduce a YDL box and hand-held USB microscope. I gained friends with whom I remain in contact, and a memory of the music and energy that the children of Oshigambo radiate.

This second effort moved me in many more ways than I am able to express, for the witness of true poverty and a nation burdened by AIDS coupled with energetic, eager school children who want to learn and grow beyond their current social-economic confines. An amazing tribute to the human spirit.

Understanding & Respect
In these volunteer opportunities, I fear I am selfish for I may have grown more than those whom I ventured to work with. In my forthcoming time in Kenya, I fully expect to once again be moved in this way, but more importantly, to leave knowing that my contribution initiated a life long relationship through which I will gain a growing level of understanding and respect.

I offer this channel of communication as a means of sharing my time in Kenya. I invite you to explore beyond that which you read in the daily paper and watch on TV –to get involved through research, communication, and contribution– even your own travel to a place that may benefit from your hands, feet, passion, and energy.

Your Support is Needed

Oshigambo, Namibia
In 2001 I ventured to North Namibia as a volunteer at a high school in Oshigambo. It was an incredible experience (of which I will share more another time).

When I first received confirmation of my acceptance as a volunteer, I was asked what I could do, a request for skills. I listed “carpentry, basic masonry, plumbing, electrical wiring, teaching English and writing.” I intentionally did not list computers. The response was, “We need help in our computer lab.” To which I responded, “Don’t you need something built? A leaking roof repaired?” And again I received, “Can you assist us with our computers.” I gave in, “Yes, yes, of course. I will be pleased to assist with your computer lab.” It seems my time away from computers would be with computers.

As this was a few months prior to 9/11, I was allowed to hand carry an Apple 8500 (to which I bolted a black steel handle) onto the plane. Adorned with “Yellow Dog Linux” and “Take a Bite Out of NT” stickers, it drew some attention. In Johannesburg, an American noticed my odd luggage and said, “Oh! My brother uses Yellow Dog Linux.” I was taken back, “Really? What does he do?” “Works at Penn State. He converted his entire iMac lab to YDL last year. Loves it. How did you hear about Yellow Dog?” I smiled. An unexpected ego trip is fun every now and again.

Linux Through the Etosha Pan
Two weeks later I had installed my YDL box and conducted a few crash courses on the use of Linux and Mac OS. I helped to improve the Oshigambo computer lab by digging through more than 50 donated and completely worthless early 80s computers whose only value was the RAM and drives. I consolidated more than 100 floppies onto a single CD-R and introduced a hand-held USB microscope (which I had brought with me) to their biology program.

One evening, having worked another 14 hour day and needing a break, I attached the 8500 to a translucent LCD adapater on an overhead projector (the kind designed for writing on a looped roll of cellophane) and turned out the classroom lights. The teacher, students, and I listened and danced to Samantha Mamba while color swirled larger than life to the rythm of the music. It passed the time while we waited for yet another Windows 3.11 system to re-install. You can’t imaging my frustration for having not brought a set of Red Hat CDs.

I was pleased to learn of Schoolnet Namibia, a not-for-profit that is installing Linux boxes in every Namibian computer lab possible while building a network of wireless data connectivity throughout the country, branching from the sole telcom microwave backbone from South to North. All of the routers and access point control centers ran Red Hat Linux, so the Yellow Dog had good company. But at that time, Schoolnet had not yet brought inernet connectivity to Oshigambo.

No more hand me downs, please.
I had brought a dual-boot 8500 and it was 4x faster than most of the machines in the lab and yet, a few teachers had modern Pentium laptops which topped the 8500 by 2x. I had ventured to Africa with the default American assumption that our hand-me-downs would be well received by those who had less. In other arenas this may may be true, but where computers and the internet are concerned, this is not the case.

While I was feeling bad I didn’t have something a bit newer, the museum pieces in the closet were not delivered a decade ago but donated just a two years prior. They were already twenty years old. Ridiculous, bordering offensive.

In my final day at Oshigambo I prepared a series of HOWTOs for re-installation, maintenance, and user administration. I summarized the many white board discussions that reinforced the training the teachers had gained at the university. And in closing, I addressed the closet full of junk, making it very clear that it was useless and should be recycled, discarded … or buried.

This was the hardest part to explain, to make clear that their relatively new donations were simply not capable of burning CD-Rs, let alone connecting to the internet nor playing MP3s. The teachers and students were well aware of what was available, the latest technology, but knowing their next donation might be a few years away the were very reluctant to let go of 30+ Apple IIe computers whose drives were locked-up or missing and boot floppies non existent.

Leveling the Playing Field
Our three decade curve of technological improvement in the computer industry is completely cut through as people move from never having used a telephone to making home movies on their laptop in one jump.

It is terribly important to recognize the functions the internet serves to bridge gaps between peoples of such varied socio-economic backgrounds, by:

a) Enabling eveyone to recognize the latest, greatest technology offerings.

b) Enabling two or more otherwise disconnected parties to engage and work together to level the disparate playing fields.

c) Enabling all involved to grow through story telling, experience, and most important of all, understanding.

The spread of technology to all people serves to improve quality of life, yes. But if the spread of that technology is not accompanied by improved understanding and empathy, then we are missing the most important aspect of these collaborative relationships –humanity.