A Sustainable Future

I woke at 5:30 this morning, to the low resonant sounds of hippo’s grunting in the shallows of the Lake. I pulled back the mosquito net that covers my bed and looked out from the balcony over the cool African dawn. The treetops were bathed in orange light and a few small fishing boats had cast their circular nets around the lake shore.

I headed for the shower and an early breakfast.

We headed North today, to the site of our farm, where 10 acres of land gives us food for all of the work of the project. Food security is an important issue in Kenya, where lack of rains can send maize prices rocketing.

We had arranged to meet at 7:00.

Sure enough, on the dot of 7:40 Moses arrived and we headed North, towards Kitale and the villages where our farms are located.

The morning was cool and the air fresh. As we headed out of Kisumu on the road past Mamboleo we picked up Paul James and then climbed the steep hill out of the lake basin.

Rural Nyanza, to the North of Kisumu is beautiful. Steep sided valleys, lush with eucalyptus trees are dotted with the shiny iron sheet roof tops of mud and thatch houses, glinting in the early morning sunshine. Small plots of land surrounding each house are filled with a mixture of crops, some early maize plants, cassava, beans and napier grass for the cattle

After half an hours drive we approached the border of Nyanza and Western Province, crossing the equator into the northern hemisphere at a small metal sign barely worthy of its role at the centre of the world.

In Western Province the maize plantations give way to sugar cane. The big sugar factories at Mumias provide international export markets for small holding farmers, though the prices are low and the farmers here compete with subsidised farmers across the Americas for larger contracts which they hardly ever win. Fair trade it may be, but free trade it certainly isn’t.

It is clear you are in sugar country as the roads are suddenly alive with tractors laden down with badly stacked sugar cane, taking up more of the road than they should and making it impossible to pass.

The large fields of sugar cane give way to small holdings of tea production and fields bordered by banana and mango trees, paw paw and avocados, providing shade and fruit to the homesteads.

We passed through Kakamega, the largest and capital town of Western Province, home to many boda boda’s and a good number of matatu’s and tractors, neither of which make for fast progress!

Not many kilometres north of Kakamega is the Forest Park, home to a wide variety of different monkeys. I often see baboons walking by the roadside, or black and white colobus monkeys in the trees on the short drive through the dense indigenous forest. Today however there were no signs of wildlife and we hurried on our way, through the obligatory police checks either side of the road.

After a couple of hours we arrive in Webuye, where the large paper factory has now laid idle for the last two or three years, reducing the surrounding villages to poverty as the jobs have dried up.

We climbed once more, out of the town, further North still until we arrived at last in Kisikhu, home to one of our two 5 acre plots.

We picked up Steve, a young man who is helping organise our farming activity this year and he led us down a red mud road, along increasingly small trails, where the rain has worn furrows into the surface and made a real bone shaker of a ride. Either side of the car thorns scraped their reminders of this route into the white scarred paintwork as we edged cautiously down the track.

We drove between a barbed wire fence and a line of tall eucalyptus until we emerged at a field edge. “Hapa” said Steve, We are here.

We got out and had a walk around the edge of the 5 acre plot. We have already done the first ploughing, but the tractor had struggled to break up the sugar cane that had been grown here last year and a second ploughing is required before the planting could begin.

We plan to plant a mixture of maize and beans, two staples of the menu in our homes in Kibos and Mamboleo. The beans will be harvested in July, whilst the maize will be harvested in November. From April until July the beans and maize will grow together, then, once we have harvested the beans, the maize will grow high and mature independently.

We need to plant before the rains come in April, as the rains will cause the maize and beans to germinate and help them on their way. The land looked promising. All around the farmers were planting sugar cane, but this is a cash crop and we have hungry mouths to feed. We have opted for food security first, cash may or may not come later.

We then headed off to the second land, some 20 kilometres further north. We have had to farm in two plots this year, as we weren’t able to get 10 acres together.

We drove down some very small, dusty roads for quite a distance, before turning sharp left through a gate into a rural homestead. Instead of the usual mud and thatch huts this one housed a fine brick building, surrounded by barns and sheds.

As we stepped out of the car we were greeted warmly by the owner of the farm, Rasto Ojago.

And Rasto is a passionate and charismatic man. I can only say now, that I believe we have been blessed to find him.

He is renting out 5 acres for the first time this year. He has turned traditional farming methods on their head and turned his whole farm into organic, bio farming. He doesn’t plough his land as he believes it lets moisture escape from the soil, he wont use artificial fertilisers or pesticides on his land as he doesn’t believe they should be in the food chain.

And his harvests and yields are more than double the best we have ever achieved per acre.

As we talk with him we realise that we have been blessed. We are the first to rent his land, he wants to evangelise his farming methods, show them to people who are interested and help to change the way that traditional rural agriculture is viewed. He has a contract to supply the government with 5,000 bags of maize next year and he hopes to share what he has learned with Steve and our organisation.

As we sat under a mango tree back at Steve's home, with his family, we talked about what we had seen.

It will be an interesting year. We have one plot that we will farm using traditional methods and another using the organic soil conservation route.

I hope and pray that the latter wins. If it does, we have already agreed on ten acres for next year.

I believe that our move to sustainable food production has begun.

Perhaps we need a different anthem

It was a long drive today.

Moses and I went up to Kitale, to meet with Vincent and Rose. Vincent heads up our farming activity, running the farm that produces the maize that we use almost everyday in the staple food of this part of Kenya, ugali.

Ugali, for the uninitiated is a kind of maize stodge. It is essentially a blend of maize flour and water, cooked into a dough like porridge, formed into a large heap and piled onto a plate. It is traditionally eaten by taking a small piece from the pile, kneading it for a moment or two in your hand and then using it to scoop up sauce, gravy, chicken, fish, vegetables or whatever else is available. It is starchy, filling and inexpensive.

Kitale has been called the bread basket of Kenya. It is a green and fertile land to the north of Kisumu in Rift Valley province. It sits at around 7,000ft and consequently is cool and rainy. Perfect for agriculture.

I wasn’t looking forward to the trip. The last time I went, with David Lee, we travelled for more than four hours to get there on awful pot-holed roads. I am glad to say that, soon after our visit (though not because of!) the government embarked on an improvement program and the road is now a positive billiard table all the way to Webuye. It has cut two hours off the journey and made the town much more accessible.

We arrived at 12:30 to be greeted by Vincent and Rose and their beautiful children, Princess, Precious, Prosper and Perfect (2 girls and two, gorgeous, 6 month old twin boys).

Vincent, for reasons best known to himself, is an Arsenal supporter. He loves them as if he were brought up within a stones throw of the Emirates. I had stopped off on my way here to buy him a new Arsenal shirt. It hurt me to do so I have to admit, but I knew it would make him happy. That’s commitment!

Vincent was delighted and promptly put it on. He then waxed lyrical for ten minutes about “beautiful football” and how “we just lack goals”. Well, that’s the point of football as far as I can tell.

Anyway, he was happy.

So we moved on to talk of farming. We have big plans for our farm in Kitale and Vincent, as a teacher of Agriculture, is key to helping us realise them. But we aren’t quite ready to start this year, so we talked about farming the 10 acres we have farmed for the last few years.

Maize prices have rocketed and are currently 50% higher than two or three years ago. This puts a huge strain on our food budget for our work in Kisumu, so we have been growing our own for 7 or 8 years now. If things go well this year we will harvest more than 200 bags on November, enough for our work and a healthy profit to enable us to farm again next year.

Before we travelled back to Kisumu Rose prepared a wonderful meal of chapatti, Okra, Green Grams and Beef (and of course ugali for Vincent and Moses!). It was a feast and washed down with English tea (black with a little milk, compared with the Kenyan way of very milky and at least 3 teaspoons of sugar) - Rose has known me long enough to know I prefer it the English way!

As we ate, the TV screen broadcast images of Kenyan leaders live at their pre-trial hearing at the International Criminal Court in the Hague (six leaders are charged in connection with the post election violence in early 2008).

The court proceedings were formal and official, but I was amazed to see the number of politicians who had travelled from Kenya to the Hague to offer support to those suspected of inciting serious violence. Nothing to do with the trial, which is only a pre-trial to decide if there is a case to answer, the politicians had, nonetheless, travelled all the way to the Netherlands to appear on TV showing support.

As the news channels broadcast pictures of them stood outside the court, singing the Kenyan national anthem in support of their indicted colleagues inside I couldn’t help but reflect.

The cost of a flight to Amsterdam and a hotel in the Hague for 4 or 5 nights is the equivalent of our farming 10 acres to support over 75 children in orphanages, rehabilitation and home resettlement programs.

Maybe, just maybe, we should be singing a different kind of anthem. One for the hungry children, widows and orphans of this beautiful, fertile, rich land.

As I got back to Kisumu it was raining. At last the rains we have hoped for had come. Better than any man’s, perhaps we have God’s blessing on our work.

Kipsongo Slum - Kitale

It's been a long day today.

An early morning start for the drive up to Kitale.

Kitale is known, with good reason, as the bread basket of Kenya. The fertile lands and temperate climate combine to give excellent harvests and Kitale tea and coffee is rightly considered amongst the best available. Alongside the commercial crops many, many people run small farms producing maize, the food staple of Kenya.

We have farmed in Kitale for a number of years now. Last year we planted 10 acres with Maize. The harvest has usually been sufficient to feed the whole project for the year, giving us food security and protection against rising prices or the regular food shortages that accompany the years of poor rains.

Last year though, the rains failed and harvests were less than half what they were in previous years. Fortunately we still have enough for our own needs, but we have previously been able to sell the surplus to fund the following years planting, something which we wont manage this time.

Vincent his wife Rose look after the farm, as well as four ex street boys from the local area and I was looking forward to catching up with them. They are a delightful couple, the only downside of which is that Vincent is a very keen Arsenal fan. Fortunately their relative league position allows me a little gloating.

This trip was a little different to others however, as we had a particular objective in mind. Four of the boys we look after in Kibos originally come from Kitale. They are from the Turkana tribe, who inhabit the very north of Kenya, near the Sudanese border.

Many Turkana's have been displaced as a result of the regular border scuffles, often caused by cattle rustling (cattle having a cultural value beyond the meat or milk).

The four boys came from a Turkana community which has established itself in Kitale, however with no land rights they have been forced to build temporary homes in a slum on the outskirts of the town called Kipsongo.

During the post-election skirmishes the boys were grabbed by relatives from our home in Kitale and forced back onto the streets to find food. When things had settled down we relocated the boys and talked with their relatives, who agreed that they would return to our care, to school and to their studies, but this time back at our base in Kibos.

The boys are now flourishing in school and have fitted into the community at Kibos with ease. Our purpose in going back there was to meet with the community, update them on the progress of the boys and visit the home (a simple mud and thatch house) of one of the boys mothers, which we helped her to build.

As we drew up to Kipsongo the extent of the poverty here was obvious. I have walked through many slums, in Kisumu and Nairobi, but none quite as basic as this.

Most of the houses were traditional Turkana structures, igloo style construction of mud and sticks, with a rounded roof covered in anything and everything to hand, from sticks to paper, plastic bags, tyres and flattened bottles

We met with Pastor Edward at the entrance to the slum. Edward is an assistant pastor at a local church and a Turkana himself. Moses had contacted him during the troubles, and between them they have established a Christian fellowship in the slum. They meet every Tuesday afternoon and, this being Tuesday, we intended to make this our first stopping off point.

Edward greeted us warmly and led the way.

As we walked downhill through the slum we drew all eyes upon us. They were suspicious of the strangers in their midst, but accepting of us, as they saw we were with Edward.

We walked through a jumble of traditional homes, children in scrappy clothes played barefoot, but stopped to stare at us as we passed.

After about 10 minutes we arrived at the door of a hut, which Edward turned and entered, beckoning us after him. As I ducked my head to enter the low slung doorway it was apparent through the impenetrable darkness, that that the single room was packed with people. As my eyes adjusted from the bright sunshine to the relative night of the dwelling I realised it was standing room only.

This fellowship, begun less than a year ago amongst a people where there had been no church, had grown to some 40 or 50 people. Far more than a little hut can hold!

As we squeezed into a chair where people had moved to give us their place, the numbers of curious locals outside grew and grew.

Pastor Edward introduced us and Moses stood and greeted everyone. He spoke for about 10 minutes, in Swahili, whilst Edward translated into Turkana. At one point he introduced me, and I greeted the group warmly.

I shared about the charity, about our purpose and objectives. I shared from Isaiah 58 about what I believed we have been called to do. I shared about little Moses, Amos and James, the Turkana children we look after.

They were delighted to hear news of them, and even more delighted to know that they are in school and getting good marks.

Then Edward, and later others from the group shared. They thanked us for beginning the fellowship, for the very small funds we provide to help the community on a regular basis (about 5,000 shillings a month) and people shared how it had helped them, one with some hospital fees, another with some medicine and so on.

When the meeting finished we asked to visit the homes of the boys relatives, to greet them and to see and understand where they came from.

We left the hut and walked back out into the heat of the day. This time, rather than just Edward, we had a full entourage of people walking and chatting with us. Everyone wanted us to see their homes!

No longer full of suspicion we were walked around the village. They explained that many people come and take photographs and promise to help, but not many return. They believe that people use the pictures to raise funds and then keep the money. Maybe they are right, maybe not, but it is a fact that nobody seems to be helping them.

I was reminded of something I read once “A lot of people talk about the poor, but not so many talk to the poor”

We walked through the slum, past a kiosk set up by a single mother selling charcoal to help look after her 2 children and elderly mother, past a butchery, selling the meat (the squeamish should skip this bit) of a calf foetus, pulled from it's slaughtered mother and past countless hands, trying to pull me in a particular direction, to see a particular thing, to hear a particular need.

It would be good to help them all, but I know that is impossible.

We saw little Moses mothers house, a simple, single room mud and thatch structure which now sleeps her and 5 children. We say James relatives house and Amos's home.

There is absolutely no doubt, whatsoever in my mind, that they are better where they are. And so say their relatives. I thought I had seen communities with nothing. But I hadn't seen Kipsongo.

As we waked through the slum back to the car, still pulled this way and that, in spite of my protestations that I don't speak fluent Turkana I reflected on what a little money and care might do in this community to improve the lives of the children who live there.

Helping families can make a huge difference in stopping children ending up on the streets.

We left for the three and a half hour drive back to Kisumu in a reflective and thoughtful mood. It had been good to join the fellowship and although it is a small beginning, it is still a beginning. In such a way much can be accomplished.

Mother Theresa of Calcutta: -

“Today, it is very fashionable to talk about the poor. Unfortunately it is not very fashionable to talk with them.

When a poor person dies of hunger, it has not happened because God did not take care of him or her. It has happened because neither you not I wanted to give that person what he or she needed. We have refused to be instruments of love in the hands of God to give to the poor a piece of bread, to offer them a dress to ward off the cold. It has happened because we did not recognise Christ when, once more, he appeared under the guise of pain, identified with a man dying of hunger, when he came in a lonely human being, in a lost child in search of a home.”