Getting the Balance Right

Today we rose early, for the drive to visit two of our boys, Shadrack and Victor. They live close to each other, in Busia County, near to the Uganda border. 

We set off on the familiar airport road passing through Maseno and Luanda but then, unlike yesterday when we turned towards Siaya, we continued on the main western highway.

It may be something of an exaggeration to call it a highway, but the road was relatively pot hole free and we made quick progress.

“Can you believe that?” said Moses, pointing at a motor bike just ahead of us loaded down with a three piece suite (yes, that is what it said!).

Paul James and I sat marvelling at the balance and inventiveness required to strap three large items of furniture onto a small 200cc motorbike and then to ride it on the same roads as the huge lorries and speeding matatus that hurried up and down between Kisumu and Busia.

I have grown accustomed to remarkable sights, bikes carrying three or four 90kg sacks of maize, iron roofing sheets strapped on cross ways, so the protrude into the highway and only this morning in Kisumu I watched a small boy carrying 5 chickens, their legs tied together with raffia so they couldn’t escape, jump onto the back of a boda boda and head home.

But this was a first. I have never seen a three piece suite on a bike before.

We pulled over in Bulaga to buy a small bunch of ripe banana’s from one of the many roadside sellers, who wait for the matatus to pull in before standing at the windows earnestly selling their fruit. The bananas were sweet and tasty and we ate them late in the morning as we made steady progress. We drove through Yala and Ugunja, before turning off the main road onto a dirt track, heading down towards the Northern end of the Lake. After another half hour we turned onto a smaller track and then onto smaller and smaller routes, made by and for bicycles, but down which the little Toyota wondered with ease.

Eventually we arrived at Victor’s place.

Victor has been with us for about 4 and a half years, living in our smaller centre at Mamboleo with Paul James. He found his way to the streets when he was very small, after running away from home.

Apparently he was running an errand to the shops and was given money, but lost the change and was frightened to go back. By whatever transport he could, he eventually found his way to Kisumu, where we met him in one of our outreach programmes.

After a year or so we traced back to his family, who were overjoyed to see him and know that he was alive and well. Victor has been doing well in school and has just completed class 5 at primary (of 8 classes).

We walked into the small compound and found his mum and dad there, laying out cassava to dry in the afternoon sun. Traditional mud and thatch huts made up the accommodation and Victor’s dad ushered us into the main house, which was airy and cool. Paul James has been here often during the resettlement  program, but for Moses and I this was our first visit. It was lovely to meet and talk with Victor’s parents, and they were so full of thanks for all that has been done for them, bringing their son home.

After a number of visits, Victor asked Paul James if he could resettle back at his parents place, so now, at the end of the school year, he has moved from Mamboleo back to home. We couldn’t be more delighted for him. He has already made friends in the community and will start at the local school in January. We will, of course, continue to support his education and we wish him and his family every blessing.

We left Victor and made our way to Shadrack’s house, which he shares with his grandmother. Shadrack has just completed secondary school and we are waiting for his results, which will be out in February. Our hopes and prayers are for a successful result, that he might realise his dream of going to college.

We made our way back to Kisumu full of talk about the different programs we run and about the hopes and dreams we have for the children. I have seen many on this trip that are taking their first steps to an independent life, standing on their own feet. It is a difficult process, but one that is seeing some success.

Balancing the needs of many different children is as hard as balancing a three piece suite on a motor bike and driving on a public highway.

But that doesn’t mean it can’t be done.

Today it will Rain

“It will rain today” said Paul James, as he and Moses pulled into the hotel car park to pick me up.

“How do you know?” I asked, looking up at the clear blue (and, it has to be said, cloudless) skies and sweating under the heat and humidity.

 “Because it is warm” he said.

There followed a ten minute debate on the relative temperatures implied by the terms “warm” and “hot” – with my premise being that anything over 30 degrees might reasonably described as a little hotter than “warm”.

Today we planned to visit a number of children we are supporting in Luanda, Siaya and Bondo, three towns to the west of Kisumu in the heart of Nyanza Province. The road to Luanda has always been good, but it is now undergoing a major upgrade, at least as far as the brand new International Airport Terminal. As a result, the road has been transformed into a dust bowl, stirred up by the petrol wagons, tankers and trailers  that carry their goods on to Busia and the border with Uganda.

We had set off late, it was gone one, and the sun was burning the car, but we edged our way through the traffic with windows tightly closed, to prevent ourselves turning the same reddy brown as the African soil.

Eventually we left the roadworks behind and we were on our way, up the hill out of the Lake Basin and across the equator at the university in Maseno. I smiled. I have always found it strange that there is a university on the equator – where there are zero degrees.

There is a post marking the equator, where I have stopped many times with different groups of people for photographs. This time I noticed that an enterprising soul had bought the land around it and built shacks selling equator related nick naks for the benefit of deep pocketed tourists.

Needless to say, we drove on.

We arrived in Luanda and parked up, then walked the hundred metres or so to Patrick’s workshop. I visited Patrick last year, when I saw some of the apprenticeship schemes we are supporting. Then, Patrick was fairly new, but this time he was cutting metal like a professional, making the frames for windows, doors and gates.

He greeted us warmly and told us how much he was enjoying the training. He had learned a lot and was looking forward to continuing next year.

At his side was William. Like Patrick, he had also been in our home at Kibos, but only for a year or so. He came to us after a long time on the streets. He has no parents and had missed a great deal of school. He couldn’t face returning to class 2 at 14 years of age, so waited until he was able to go for an apprenticeship. He is from Luanda, so we arranged for him to train at the same metal working workshop as Patrick and, once again, he is happy to be there. After feeling out of place for so long, he now has something that he can work for. He has hope and a future.

We left Luanda for Siaya, passing the beautiful, brand new and completely empty smooth tarmac road to the Obama family residence, to visit Truphena, who is graduating a course in special needs education on Friday (sadly I will already have left Kisumu whilst her ceremony takes place). We are delighted for her and she is happy to have passed her exams.

In Siaya we also planned to visit Michael, who is training in a car repair workshop. As we set off the sky became black and the heavens opened (Paul “rainmaker” James sat in the back of the car smiling inanely). A tropical downpour rained down on us, covering the road in water and reducing visibility to almost nothing. 

We edged our way through Siaya town to the workshop and hopped out of the car through the rain, running for cover under the iron sheet shacks that form the workshops. We stood under the cover, raindrops running down our faces, our clothes wet and clinging.

“You’re looking for Michael?” asked the mechanic sheltering near us, “He is working in our other workshop down the road”

“thanks” we muttered ungratefully, and stepped back outside into the downpour, running to the now very steamy confines of the Toyota.

We jumped in and crawled slowly down the road until we reached Michaels’ workshop. Michael came through our original foster program and has been supported since he was very small, in primary school. He chose an apprenticeship in his native Siaya and is now 12 months in.

From Siaya we plotted a course to Bondo, along a good tarmac road. The rain finally eased, but this caused the tarmac to begin to steam. Rainwater began to rise from the hot road in thick, swirling clouds.

“When I was young”, Moses said, “My mum told me that when the road steams it is because your dead ancestors are cooking underneath them”.

“I used to be so frightened to walk on them I would run into the bush”.

We laughed, our damp spirits lifted.

In Bondo we visited Brian, a secondary school student from the foster program, cared for by a lovely couple, Reuben and Grace. 

Reuben works for an NGO in Northern Kenya, almost at the Sudanese border and Grace is a pre-school teacher. Brain has struggled in secondary school, but managed to by 10^th in his class of 62 this year. We encourage him to work hard, talking of other children we have visited in the program who are now seeing the fruits of their labour, achieving places at college or university or on apprenticeship schemes.

Our final visit of the day was to Henrietta, one of the girls in the program, whom I visited last year. 

We arranged to meet her in Bondo town centre and pulled over by the side of the road at the busy market. Paul James called Hennie, who came running to meet us. Once again, she was delighted to see us. Hennie is a beautiful bundle of energy, resourceful and ambitious to make the most of her life.

She jumped in the car and told Moses to drive on. We drive a few hundred metres, then turned down a track made muddy by the heavy rain, negotiating pot holes and pools in equal measure. 

After a short distance she told us to stop, outside a small row of apartments.

“This is where I live”, she announced, with delight.

We followed her inside to find a spacious single room, divided by two large sheets, on one side of which were chairs and a small table and behind which lay a bed.

Hennie has been looking for a course in community health, but whilst she looked she has got a job as a cashier at a local hospital, working 12 hour shifts and alternating days and nights, with a few days off in between. 

Some days, before she starts work, she cleans at a local government house to earn the small wages that pay her rent. She is determined to make the best of life and talks excitedly about a course she has found.

We give her the money to register for the course and she promises to send us a payment schedule for the modules that make up the two and a half year diploma.

We leave Bondo after a long but uplifting day, catching up on some I saw last year and seeing some take their first steps towards independence.

I ask Paul James what he thinks the future holds for these children.

“I think it will rain blessings” he says, and smiles.