"Now that you're here ....."

As I write, the rain is thundering on the tin roofs of the walkways at Sunset hotel. Constant lightning flashes illuminate the wide expanse of Lake Victoria and the wind is throwing the purple flowers from the delicate branches of the Jacaranda in the hotel gardens.  

The gentle low pitched grunts of hippo's, joyfully resonate through the rain and the mosquitos have temporarily run for cover (though I am convinced that every bug and insect in Nyanza province is poised, ready to spring into action - full biting mode - at the first sign of new life).

Jacaranda flowers by Lake Victoria

It has rained every time I have visited Kenya. Yes, every time for the last 16 years.

I arrived in Nairobi yesterday to wet pavements and standing water on the roads. I asked Douglas, my taxi driver, when the rains had arrived. “This is the first we have had since last year” he said.

“Typical”, I thought, “I have brought the weather from Lancashire!”

You see, I know a thing or two about rainy places. I lived for a number of years in Preston, officially the third wettest city in Britain after Cardiff and Glasgow. 

I now live near Burnley, which attracts an enormous 1154mm of rainfall every year – no wonder our reservoirs are always full “oop North”.

“In some parts of Kenya, you know, it hasn’t rained for more than three years”, Douglas continued

And then I felt bad.

Parched Lands in the Rift Valley

As I took the short flight from Nairobi to Kisumu, above the volcanic craters, steep hills and great lakes of the Rift Valley, I could see for myself how dry things were. Fields and plantations, usually great swathes of fertile green valleys awash with maize and tea plantations, were brown and parched.

I had read about the drought, of course. The Disasters Emergency Committee have launched a huge appeal for funds and people throughout Kenya, Somalia, Ethiopia and South Sudan face the very real prospect of starvation. 

In Northern Kenya people are dying, fighting over grazing land for cattle and livestock, over access to water and the army are being deployed to sensitive areas to keep the peace. 

Last month the Kenyan government declared the drought a national disaster and the Kenya red cross estimates 2.7m people face starvation. 

As if the lack of food weren’t enough cholera outbreaks are on the increase as the lack of clean drinking water takes it’s toll.

I suddenly felt very fortunate to live where I do, to know the cool of winter, the rains of spring and autumn and the graciousness of a summer to grow enough food for our needs.

Moses (not the one who can part waters!)

I met Moses at the airport in Kisumu and we drove the short distance to Sunset Hotel, my regular resting place in Kisumu on the shores of the Lake. We talked all afternoon, catching up on news, ideas and plans and on the work of the Trust. 

We talked about food security and the availability of fresh, clean water. Moses shared that the well that we dug at Kibos is now one of the few wells in the village that hasn’t dried up, with queues snaking around our acre or so of land as people line up to fill their jerrycans. 

We organised our week together over a cup of hot Kenyan tea while little vervet monkeys scurried around the grounds, jumping on the tin roofs and the hotel tables, scurrying into the safety of the trees when the staff tried to chase them away.

“Has it rained here yet?” I asked Moses, an hour before the storm hit.

“Not yet”, he replied, “but you are here now, so it will come!”