We Don't Listen ...

Today dawned hot. The rains of last night had cleared and blue skies greeted me as I pulled back the curtains and looked out over the great lake before me. It was going to be a good day.

I sat on the terrace and wrote my blog entry for yesterday, recalling our perilous journey over a rickety bridge and our visit to Noah, which still sent a warm feeling into my soul. As I wrote one of the hotel staff cleaned the terrace around me and monkeys jumped on the tables and chairs, dodging all attempts to impale them with the wet end of a 6ft mop.

Moses arrived, a requisite hour later than we had agreed and we jumped into the car for short journey to Maseno. We were planning to visit Mary, a student in her first year at the university, studying Business Administration.

Mary, and her brother Atenas (who is also now at university in South Eastern Kenya), came to the Trust a number of years ago. 

They were attending St Pauls, Mamboleo, one of the schools that we have been able to place our children in and with whom we maintain a good relationship. Our social worker, John, had been talking with the head teacher at the time and she had told him of two children that really needed help. They were living alone with an elderly grandparent, struggling to make ends meet and unable to put in the time they needed at school to realise their potential. John looked into their situation and recommended that we help support the two of them through their studies. We were delighted to do so.

Mary got excellent marks in her KCPE and went on to achieve a B grade at KCSE which qualified her for a student loan at the prestigious Maseno university.

Moses and I chatted away as we drove the half hour journey to Maseno along the busy airport road and then up through the hills that line the edge of the vast lake basin. Maseno is situated right on the equator – though I have never understood why you would locate a university at a place of no degrees?

We turned from the main road onto a small dirt track, which we followed for half a mile or so, before turning into a large blue gate that marked the entry to the halls of residence. 

Moses called Mary who came to meet us. Her smiles and laughter lifted our spirits after the hot journey and we walked with her as she showed us to her room, which she shares with 5 other girls. Mary began the year doing economics, but soon changed to Business Administration, where she feels there are better work prospects.

We walked for a little around the grounds of the campus, Mary kindly leading us through the shadier parts, to protect my ever reddening forehead from the tropical sun. I was grateful for her thoughtfulness and delighted to hear that she is enjoying her course and studying hard.

Moses asked (a little parentally I thought), about the temptations of a mixed campus.

“Boys are not allowed in girls rooms from 10 until 10” Mary replied “they have to be out of rooms by 10pm and not be there before 10 in the morning – the janitors come round and check!” The penalty, apparently, as it is for cheating in an exam, is an appearance before the university disciplinary committee and a 1,001 day suspension!

We walked past a large sports ground, lined with tall leafy trees, providing much needed respite from the sun.

“Do you play sports?” I asked her, “I do”, she replied, then lowering her voice so Moses couldn’t hear, she continued “I like rugby, though it can get a bit rough when it is mixed teams!”

“I get a lot of exercise just from walking the 3 kilometres between my hall and the lectures” she said, her voice back to normal levels.

Late in the afternoon we left Mary, all smiles and laughter, and headed back to Kisumu. We had one last meeting to make. Jared is another lovely, humble young man from our program. 

Though he completed his primary school KCPE exams, he didn’t go on to secondary school, choosing instead to find himself work. He learned to drive motorbikes, the staple of the local Boda Boda (bicycle taxi) industry in Kisumu.

Motorbikes are everywhere these days and Jared has been renting time with one to make a living. He operates out of Mamboleo, looking for customers at the busy junction with the Kakamega road, which we had followed when we visited Collins a couple of days earlier. Jared works from 7am to 7pm and on a good day, he says, he can earn up to 1,000 shillings (£8) - enough to pay for the bike, to pay his rent, to have food and to save a little for repairs and expenses.

One of the Trust’s supporters, touched by meeting with Jared on a visit to Kisumu, has raised funds for him to have a motorbike of his own and we had arranged to meet him at the Honda showroom where he showed us the one that he has set his heart on.

He was truly thrilled to be blessed with such a gift and is intent on working hard to give himself a future.

As we had set off for Maseno this morning we had stopped for some fuel at a garage in Kisumu. Whilst the attendant filled the car I noticed a small green sign on top of the pump.

“What is that saying?” I asked Moses.

“Aah”, he replied, “that is the code to pay for your fuel by Mpesa. You know, you can pay for almost anything using your phone these days”.

I was impressed.

“And what is that small red sign next to it?” I asked, pointing to a red picture of a mobile phone with a white line through it, affixed to the post next to the pump.

“That means don’t use your mobile phone in the petrol station” Moses replied. Then, realising the contradiction in the two signs he burst out laughing.

“But that is Kenya”, he said through his smiles, “we don’t listen when someone tells us we can’t do something!”

That is true, in my experience, on a number of levels, but no more so than with the children of the Trust.