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Politekele Wetenskap

I can’t always keep track of where I am. And my blogs are doing a miserable job of keeping themselves up to date. 

 But – despite all that my blogs have missed over the past few weeks, I am now in South Africa (Stellenbosch University to be exact) and started classes today. 

Should I start by telling you about everything that’s going on now, or dive back into everything I’ve missed? I can’t be sure… Okay, I’ll start back where my last blog left off (or at last the last one that posted. Unfortunately one or two are MIA).

Last you heard, I was at an international fair with a python ‘round my neck. Since then there was

a)   Cameron bouncing on a bus through elephant grass and dusty sunsets to visit a Grassroots Partner in quaint Luyansha town

b)   Cameron spending time with Canadian journalists learning about water issues in the township of Chifubu

c)    Cameron having his final sleeps in Ndola and saying goodbye to Kenneth and the wonderful Kasweshi family. I miss you guys! Final paints, final flicks, final ice creams, final musics, final everythings.

d)   Cameron waking up with a miserable cold and spending the day running errands in town before the 6 hour bus ride to Lusaka.

e)    Cameron trying all these new funky fruits that are supposedly good for colds. Ifibulu and entetungulu if you’re wondering what they were (but you won’t find them in the typical pharmacy… not yet anyhow. They tasted really funky but good. If pictures work, I’ll try to show a snap.

f)     Cameron going ‘fly, bye, fly, bye’ from Lusaka to Jo’burg to Cape Town

g)    Cameron spending a few days at a friend’s godmother’s friend’s sister’s friend’s home right on the coast of Cape Town. Long walks on the beach, with toes in the cold Indian Ocean.

h)   Cameron shopping till kingdom come. Kleenex, pots and pans, and everything in between. In the past 5 days, if it exists, I bought it.  Jeanne Marie and me running aboutst the city in search of sun and slippers. We found both.

i)     Cameron hanging out with Marion! A friend from uni back in Vancouver who I haven’t seen since 2005, is out here, and so we’ve had some good times together.

j)     Cameron meeting Constantine, my new housemate. He’s from Hamburg, Germany. Real nice (or as I’m learning to say Lekker good). And I don’t know much more about him to make it more of a comment.

k)    Cameron starting classes. Cameron learning Afrikaans (like politekele wetenskap – which is what i’m studying here… i think. need to make sure of that). In summary: Cameron doing lots of new things.

So that’s me. I spent last week in 6 different beds over 7 nights. I’m pretty tired (and have spent the last two nights catching up properly on sleep).

But things are great. Stellenbosch is breathtaking. Scratchy mountain peaks break into the horizon on all directions. And everything is quite lush and green. Birds of paradise growing as weeds below the eucalyptus trees, dotting the paths through the manicured gritt paths.

This blog lacks detail. But I have hour long stories for every step of the past journey. And not yet the will for sharing them. The mates ‘round the dorm are getting ready for another night out – they say it’s their forth in a row. That’s one race I won’t be keeping up with.

But things are great. I have lots to be thankful for. I have lots of work to get done for SpanAfrica – lots of posting of the new great Grassroots Partners we’ve expanded to in Zambia, and the details for the volunteers they’re looking for. I’ll spend time on a future blog going back in better detail about life in Zambia and what all that time meant for me. It really was an awesome experience.

as the rooting cheers start outside the door, I’m going to wind up the blog.

Yours and yours,

Cam

The bustle and excitement about the International Trade Fair made its way under my skin weeks before it pulled its way into Ndola, and the government declared its national holiday.

Kenneth, Catherine, and I left the house early in the morning to catch bus and taxi on our route, hoping to beat the mass descending on the grounds. Did we beat it? No (I am still catching up from my lack of sleep, as described in earlier blogs, and use this excuse for lazy mornings, long baths, and sleep-ins). Shhhh.

Ahead of the crowds, no. But made it, we did. We started in the Kenyan Pavilion, which stood itself as close to the front of the gates as it could. Convenient enough. And I stood their proudly, bartering away (as hard, and as with as harsh a vocabulary Swahili will permit) knocking prices down on the wooden figurines that I decided needed to join my collection. The chance to speak again! My Bemba isn’t worth two sticks, but being back in Africa I’ve been craving the chance to really use my skills again. Those honed on the past three escapades in Kenya.

On to the Middle East! Persian rugs, Pakistani bubble gums, Egyptian leather jackets and hieroglyphic scrawls on papyrus.

Reams of fabric from Ghana. Women hawking Nigerian films with wigs and dresses elaborate enough for the most glamorous of drag queens.

We stopped by the booth for City Council to take our picture over the artificial pond. We learned about a new solar power bicycle. We splurged on ice creams and deep fried chips.

Pony rides, cotton candy, raffles, concerts, face paint (the boys opted most commonly for having “Obama” or “Michael Jackson” painted to their foreheads), balloons, dust, cat calls, and electric lights – all riding together with energy and pizzazz.

The highlight – even above the discount trinket tables from the Congo – was, though, the snake zoo.

You paid a dollar at the gate. Catherine led Kenneth and myself through the long winding tape towards the exhibits. Black mambas, spitting cobras, Gabbon vipers, rattlers, – the whole lot. All of those deadlies from Africa sitting in glass tanks around the park, waiting for you to tap the glass or lift the latch.

These cages were not the same as those found at the Toronto Metropolitan Zoo. No, siree, these were homemade cages, built by some Afrikaans farmer in his home outside Kitwe. Crocodiles in the swimming pool, and a guy who told me he used to let the little guys bite ‘em on the finger so he could get the buzz from the venom.

I smiled with as much confidence as I could, as the python posed himself around my neck for the photo. I pet the iguana. I tried talking to the parrot. I listened intently to the stories, I read the signs, and I snapped the photos… All as if I wasn’t scared to death of even the most docile of those creatures sitting there in their boxes.

Finally, enough was enough. Scared to wits that someone would bump over a box, and 400 fatalities would end up in the Zambian Post in the morning, I bid farewell to the scales and returned to the safety of wooden animals and vicious haggling.

Feet aching, with bags in each hand, and sunburn on my brow, we picked a bus, and drove all the way home, at the end of our marvelous day at the fair.

 Lovingly yours, 

Cam 

“Town?” I say as I hoist my self into the front cab of the bus.

Smile and nod from the driver, and we’re on our way. Not to town.

I sit and watch the town pass – the woman with her set of logs stacked precariously on her head, the ice creamery where I’ve been stopping in every few days, splurging on the ‘Dollar per TUB’ deal, the running kids, families in their best attire off to Church, interspersed by some local youths who are making their ways home from their not-so-religious nights – Ndola town strolling and meandering peacefully through the morning.

“Town?” I ask again as the bus juts itself off onto a dirt road… one I know isn’t heading for town.

Smile and nod from the driver, and we continue our pace. Not to town.

The bus pulls into Chifubu. A shantytown that I’m just becoming familiar with, and only with my keenest landmark observances (I think I remember that fence… that cell phone credit stall looks familiar… I can’t think of where else I may be…).

And since we’re here, I might as well tell you about Chifubu. A township developed around the local brewery (which since collapsed), the area has its fair share of social and economic issues. I’ve been here a number of times, getting to know a SpanAfrica Grassroots Partner, Maurigrace Schools. Started by Maurice (where half the name comes from), this elementary school, tailoring school, chicken and rabbit rearing school, and child and women’s rights and advocacy school all find themselves tucked into a pocket of a plot of land, providing the needed holistic, academic, and vocational education services needed in the community.

I’ve only been able to make my way out here a few times (which is why I’m still not super familiar with the area), but have fallen in love with the dreams and efforts put forth by Maurice and his small team of teachers.  Sitting with Maurice to hear his long stories and explanations about everything in the community, right down to the stories and pictures of the children being supported by the organization – painted much of the picture of Zambia I’ve been longing to see: that of the people.

Being here for so short a time (5 weeks makes you realize how much better it would be to stay for 5 years, should I have chance to rebook my flights, and swop around my education), I’ve been able to meet a lot of our Grassroots Partners here, and have had a great time laughing and cooking with Kenneth and his family, but I haven’t been afforded the time to get my hands into some projects of my own ( a lot of my work being about the preparation for future volunteers to come). But Maurice made sure that I got a 5 minute dance performance from some students, and got proper introductions to some of the cute faces I’ve only been able to greet in assembly.

-       but I’m getting off track. I’m not in Chifubu today to visit Maurice. I’m supposed to be heading to town to buy ingredients for some afternoon cake baking back at home.

“Town. I’m trying to go to town” I say again to the driver, stifling a smile.

He nods understandingly. “The bus will turn around in a bit” he mentions, “Why aren’t you in Church?”

And error is found not in my direction making, but in my religious truancy. Guilty as charged.

“Why aren’t you in Church?” I ask him – since, by sitting here in the bus beside me, he also is a skipper.

“7^th Day Adventist”, he explains as he pulls his cigarette pack from his shirt pocket. “Do you drink?” he asks, not really waiting for my answer, “Because you should buy for us.”

The bus turns around, and any of my worry for not making it to town and winding up having to hitchhike my way back from anywhere blows out the window into the sunny blue day.

“But 7^th Day Adventist…” I start with a smile. “Are you a Christian?” he asks, and it’s my turn for a chagrin smile without words.  “Religion without the rules” I muse. “What’s the point?” And we share a knowing (or perhaps very uncertain, but connected and contented) smile, as the bus plotted down the same path from which we had come – so many very past minutes ago. 

Albert – his name was Albert, and before long, the two of us were listening to my Bollywood Aaj Ki Raat tunes, iPod dangling between the two of us while the bus continued to fill up and pat down the dusty roads. Albert and his bus to anywhere, and as wonderful an adventure as a Sunday morning could ever be chalked up to be. 

 Yes, please, to the Gospel Pub

One of those moments that you have, where you just know that everyone around you would get as much of a kick out of the idea as you would… 

 Kenneth and I are driving down through Mapalo shanty town, on our way to a potential Grassroots Partner organization. The house gardens are smock full of colors and flowers that climb up the mud walls, creep through the windows, and have in their own way a  Beatrix Potter quaintness to them. The road is a matted pile of dust, that is kicked into spirals and clouds from the soccer ball being launched back and forth by the kids (out of school because of strikes). 

The weather here, despite it being their winter, holds itself steady to sun and blue sky, dotted with the lightest and sparsest of clouds, with temperatures that inspire t-shirts, flips, and shorts every day. My wardrobe is beautifully repetitive. 

 So, we’re driving along the road, bouncing out of our seats on the ride, as we pass what has to be one of the most packed pubs I’ve ever seen on a Tuesday afternoon. The front is wide open, the tin roof propped up by green pillars, with its assortment of eclectic lawn chairs and plastic tables. The bar inside, is quite your run-of-the-mill Zambian pub. The walls are painted light blues, covered in soccer posters and flags. Castle lager, Savanna Dry, and Coca Cola crates line the walls and fill the fridges.

The difference with this pub was, that on its cracked speakers, at full blast, was the bouncy cheery melodies that you would otherwise only find in a Pentecostal hall on Sunday morning. Yes, this was, as I can only best describe it, a Gospel Pub.

We all laughed long and hard at the irony of this joint. The most innocent mix of spirits and Spirit, sitting out on the side of the road as if it was the most typical site. I don’t really know how prohibitionists would respond to this established irony, but it was one of those memories that sunk itself in warm and deep to my memory, and I thought I’d have to share. We didn’t stop for a drink this time… but should we pass by again, I’m sure some part of my soul would be longing for a sip. 

My moments here in Zambia are continuing to go wonderfully. Kenneth and his family are so warm and hospitable. We have a lot of fun, and more than even talking, we’re spending our time dancing and singing. We’re a good match. : ) 

 I’ve been getting to know a number of others along the way, including 2 of our SpanAfrica homestays, a retired army Major, where we go to watch our football matches (his home has its own mini banana plantation – it’s so beautiful!), and a pastor, Nelson, who accompanied Amos and myself to the Congo border, so we could step inside, and get a flavor for a truly African truck stop. 

We drove through the major extent of the Copperbelt Region on our way (through to Lumumbashi, if you’re curious enough to follow on a map) , and passed through Kitwe, where a friend from uni spent a lot of his youth. Brock – what’s the name of your spot again? I couldn’t remember, so I didn’t actually visit. 

I cooked Italian for my family last night. I enjoyed the cooking, and they enjoyed the not-cooking, and seemed to like the food (though I secretly saw a few of them not finishing their olives) ; )

oh! And I shaved my head. I haven’t ever shaved it before (not since birth), and so it was this kind of freaky-adrenaline rush excitement all at once, as I used my mini scissors and electric razor to pull it all off. Every time I feel the breeze, or scratch my head, or peer into a mirror, I get that surprised jolt – where’s my hair? But it’s fun. If I had all day on the internet, I’d try to post a picture. But posting pictures seems to take more patience than I could muster, so imagination is all I’ll leave you with. It’s probably more ‘Buddhist monk’ than ‘RL polo’ look that came from it, but it makes me smile. 

If you’re a prospective volunteer, just reading this blog for the scoop of travel and volunteering, I admit, I probably run my blogs off into the least relevant areas. But the work comes and I love it, but I never seem to remember my camera, and my mind is never in the ‘let’s think about a blog’ mode, while working. But I will do my best to get an upcoming summary or two on what volunteering experiences and opportunities are like here in Zambia.

A warm hug and hello to you all,

Cameron 

Good morning! (mwa shibukeni, according to my Bemba cheat sheet)

Well, it’s 2 in the morning. And I’m half way through my morning stretches and work. Jetlag is still having its fun with me.

I go to bed punctually at 9:00 at night, night mask installed. Dedicatingly without any caffeine or sugar after noon. But every night like rule, somewhere after 11 at night (yup, after 2 hours of sleep – which, for the record, is even short for me in napping terms), I am fully awake.

Fully awake. Me and the barking dogs. For the next six hours or so. Me and my yoga, and music, and current book, and an episode or two of pirated video, and my work. And then I’m back in bed around 5, to sleep for a few hours, get up and start the day.

If it were not that I was here in Zambia, I wouldn’t have the adrenaline keeping me running through the days, and I’d probably be a little grumpy. But here I am. Ndola, a large mining town to the north of this beautiful country.

It’s my first time to Zambia, and I’m living with SpanAfrica’s Regional Director Kenneth. Kenneth and I met (most briefly) back in 2007 at an International Prison conference we were attending in Toronto.

Long story short – I broke out of prison about 2 years ago, and have made my way to Zambia to avoid being discovered. But it’s really great seeing Kenneth after all this time.

I’m staying in his wonderful home with his family. For the arrival of myself and Amos (another SpanAfrica Team member, and my good friend from Kenya), the Kasweshi’s had posted “Rule Sheets” throughout the house.  The lists generally stated “We love you, and feel most at home”.  – and we do!

They think I walk too fast, that I talk too much, that I work and study too much, that I need to get fat, and the fact that I use cold water to wash in the morning is hilarious. Every time I attempt a phrase of Bemba, I get a roar of laughter and encouragement from some room in the house

We’re getting along famously. Having a whole lot of fun together. It feels like we’ve been living together for months and months, and this has quickly felt just like home.

I’ll need to take some time painting you a picture of Zambia. It’s one of the least dense countries in Africa. Amos is enthralled by the huge fields of wild grass that are left to grow free, and I’m loving how smooth the roads are, and the fact the Supah-marts sell mayonnaise.  Life is relaxed. You can spend millions of kwacha without breaking a sweat.

I brought my paints, but it won’t be until Amos heads back to Kenya (in six short days) that I actually get a proper break when I can crack ‘em out. Amos, Kenneth, and I are here planning and collaborating all the work SpanAfrica takes part of here in Africa. Our daily sessions are long, huge, give my run-ons quite the space to breathe, and enjoyed by all of us. Enjoyed as long as we can keep our eyes open.

I have paragraph after paragraph of thoughts that I want to share with you all, but will keep this a blog, and not novel. We have lots planned for the day. And I have the feeling that I will also have an entire night once again, to share with my thoughts, my book, and the barking wild dogs.

Mwa shibukeni (I need to keep practicing this…)

Big smile,

Cam

Hi hi,

I’ve made it. A relatively non-eventful two day journey has reached me here to South Africa. And so far, I’m loving it. This blog is dedicated (can you dedicate blogs?) to Erine, for sharing your country, and even more – for sharing your amazing family who have been so good to me, while you yourself are farther north in Canada than I’ve ever set foot. Thanks Erine!

As I’ve been pretty tired, I’ve decided to trace back my first two days in South Africa by cups of rooibos tea, which are the only reason I’ve been awake at all for these first great moments.

The First Cup

It’s midnight in Jo’burg airport. I’ve already been sitting in the Mugg & Beans diner. And if we’re counting, I’ve downed six cups of rooibos in the past few hours, while my head dodds up and down onto the table, while I try concentrating on a newspaper stretched over the table. My journal sits there wanting to be written in, but I can’t bring myself to understand that I’ve actually arrived, and my emotions seem unstimulated as I can’t grasp I’ve actually left Toronto, slurped coffee outside Paris (and along the route continuously), and am now sitting back in Africa.

As the numbers dwindle inside the café, a man calls me over to his table so we can share the remaining hours of our layovers together, and orders another round of chai. Rob, a middled aged Afrikaans pool designer from Durban, had spent the week before in Kigali, Rwanda doing estimates for his new ventures for building pools there for hotels, gyms, and homes. We sit together, reviewing pictures on his digital of a large number of either cracked pool bottoms or deep holes he’s now getting ready to fill.

I’ve been exhausted for about twenty hours so far. Naps have been sporadic and generally short lived, and being someone who plans my days around the pillow, it seemed it could only have been an external force (perhaps my first round of teas, and the cups that followed with Rob), but we chatted like old friends for seven hours all through the night. Politics, business in Rwanda, faith and potatoes, holidays in Alaska. . .  Rob taught me my first words of Zulu, convinced me to visit his homeland province of Natel, and set me straight about what cell phone provider I need.

As the sun pulled through the window, and we said goodbyes, it sunk in with deep excitement and pleasure – I am in Africa. I’m back.

The Second Cup

It’s late afternoon. After a morning deepset nap, I’m sitting front seat of a car, peering out at the rich winelands, as we weave under shadows of clouds of deep grays and purples, casting a dark and wonderful mood over the great hillsides of boulders seeped in deep grasses and the thinnest and tallest of trees. My recently met (and deeply enjoyed and appreciated) hosts: Erine’s Tannie Kotie and sister Jeanne Marie have taken me first to a shopping centre for a bite, and now after we’ve left a tour of the Stellenbosch University grounds (where I’ll be starting classes in a month!), they are taking me to Franzhoek for some proper crepes and coffee.

It could just be my sleepiness, but I’m overwhelmed by the colors all around me. The deep green palm fronds; the greys of the rocks that sink deeper and deeper into the mists; the dark dark soils and deep-set blacks and browns of the grape vines that run the fields. And then, every so often at the gates of a farm the vibrant bouganveillia or hibiscus or birds of paradise throwing in their rainbows to the mix.

The rain is coming down hard as we pull up to the coffee shop. The smells from the coffee shop are unlike those I’ve ever smelt before. So much, that I don’t even know what the smells are. But – as logic would fit it – it was coffee. Jeanne Marie agrees that coffee shops don’t ever smell of the true coffee beans and roasts except for in South Africa.  A second cup, in this small town.

A Third Cup for the Road

Sunday. An entire night of sleep, an Afrikaans church service (thankfully I at least caught the part where I was introduced to the congregation before I lost myself to daydream), and then a nap to procede church.

We’re in the car again, Kotie, Geanne Marie, and another friend Lala (the list of people grow, as all friend lists should). We’re off to the ocean. We drive down through Cape Town, a city awash with construction projects underway for the soccer World Cup this time next year, and break over the mountain barrier (and through the clouds) to a drive of cliffs, informal settlements painted brightly, and the ocean.

We sit together at Seaforth, a nautical restaurant filled with old wine bottles and ropes, overlooking the rocky shore.  Over fish lunches, ice creams, and coffees, the conversation continues along of everything South African I’m curious about. Working on my Afrikaans pronunciations and vocabulary, and laughing over the stereotypes and pop-icons that are big here.

Penguins. The first wild animals I’m to see this trip in Africa, are les petits Jackass Penguins that nest through the wild nasturtum and sharp branches by the ocean. The sea swelled up and down, in its forever manner, as we walked along the warm-winded path. The sea with its penguins on the right side, the indescribable (yup, I can’t really figure anyway to describe them at all) and settlements to the left). And in my heart, the simplest and profound of emotions I’ve felt in a long time: happy.

Greg Mortenson,  Everest Climber and rural Afghani school builder, expresses that it’s three cups of tea that take strangers and make them family. As I was thinking of how I’d start off my first blog, I thought I’d share his sentiment, and try to encapsulate my first few days that have taken me in a country I haven’t ever set foot on before to one that I’m now so excited to be calling home for the next two years.

Tomorrow I’m off to Zambia for a month. Many cups of tea, and many adventures to come.

Sien jou,  (see you!)

Cameron

2 days.  

2 days until I leave for Zambia.

I can’t actually express how quickly the past few months have gone. For those of you just tuning in, I’ve spent the past number of months living in Colorado with friends while working full time for SpanAfrica. It was a bit of a dream job – do what you’re already doing; take away other work distractions; and save up for school all at once.  I remember watching the clock New Years Eve, just as all my plans began to form together, and as midnight struck the second hand seemed to move a little faster. And already it’s been a fast year.

As transient as the past while has been – it gave me the chance to make some new friends, and catch up with some old ones. No, I never got to see everyone I wanted, nor did I get to spend the proper amount of time with anyone. But I’ve been so thankful for seeing everyone I did get to. I’m sitting here, back momentarily in Toronto, having taken over my brother Tim’s desk, to write a start-off blog; trying to piece together all that is coming. 

The bare details for my upcoming life chapters (which really is as detailed as I can be right now) are that I’m heading to Zambia until mid-July, spending time with our (SpanAfrica’s) Regional Director Kenneth Kasweshi there, taking in the flavors of Ndola and getting some programs started there. 

My good friend Amos, who I lived with in Kenya last year, is flying down for a brief visit so we can get some serious brainstorming and planning accomplished. I’m so excited to see him again! If I can’t get back to Kenya for a visit, this is definitely the next best thing. Amos is working with us as well – and it’s so great to have him on the team.

I suppose I shouldn’t spend this blog looking back, though I think my nostalgic thoughts of the past few months are rivaling my growing excitement for new travels. Hiking Colorado parks, strolling the Vancouver seaway, picnicking alongside the Ottawa River, reading horror stories by firelight at the cottage, running around downtown Toronto, and all of the cups of tea I’ve had all along the way. I think the past few months have really prepared me for everything I’ve got coming, (haha – yes, I said ‘I think’).

As I’m also starting schooling at Stellenbosch in South Africa, I’m also packing for my new chapters there. I’m being picked up from the airport by Tannie Kotie (yes, I already have an adopted aunt). I can’t say I know too much as to what to expect. Actually – I really don’t have much of a cotton pickin’ clue. But it’ll all work itself out, as it already seems to have.I know blogs are supposed to be much more ‘about the moment’, and here I am, reminiscing of all I’m coming from, and daydreaming of all the uncertainties to come. But maybe this will suffice for a start off. 

I promise exciting nit-picked details of everything to come. Maybe I’ll visit the Congo (like Tintin or Stanley); maybe I’ll fjord the Victoria Falls. I have overdosed myself on inoculations and  malaria tablets (I do not plan on getting sick ONCE). 

Similarly, I do not intend to spend afternoons with Zimbabwean terrorists, sit through civil war, hang out past government curfew, contract any new exotic disease (actually, I don’t think there are any NEW diseases for me), but I also promise no repeats. The rest is yet unwritten. 

Sunscreen and sketchpad in hand, I am off.

 Your friend,

Cam 

Mwirire (hey in rwandan)
Up here in Canada, the sun is shining (at least in Ottawa at the moment), but winter chill is slowly swaying back and forth across the country. This change in weather would have Mary Poppins off again, and is stirring up my own wish for travel. If only I had an umbrella like hers…

Anyhow, until I can click my heels or wave a wand to land me back somewhere warm and dusty, I’ll try to find contentment in just letters, books, and learning about all that’s going on around the world.

The JustUs Project held their video premiere last week. This was a documentary I’d heard about for a while in the making and finally got to see. The entire film was shot in Rwanda to look at the Millennium Development Goals and how they are shaping up in this one country.

The Millennium Development Goals (MDGs) are 8 critical targets the United Nations has set for the world to achieve by 2015. These broad ambitious goals have been taken on by nations around the world, seeing the need for humanity as a collective whole to address what needs to be done in our world, which we can’t ignore much longer.

I read Jeffrey Sachs, The End of Poverty, which was one of the earlier publications on the MDGs and was excited by what ideas were even being proposed, such as eradicating extreme poverty and hunger, and providing universal primary education. Exciting, lofty, and way over my head. These were goals for wealthy governments and rock stars. I didn’t include Canadian university student as one of those a part of this effort.

My first trip to Kenya in 2005 changed a lot of that for me. I’d read about AIDS and poverty with intimidating numbers and tragedy-filled commercials. I remember one afternoon, taking a nap on one of the bunk beds at the orphanage I was staying at and thinking how similar I was to these youth I was living with. We shared books, did laundry together, they’d cook me fish, I’d clean scraped knees. The whole distance and lack of connection that I had held for my life to that point disappeared. That whole ‘me’ and ‘them’… differences disappeared. It was just ‘us’ taking care of each other, entertaining ourselves, learning from each other.

From university or interest, I’ve ended up watching a million documentaries on ‘Africa’. Some I’ve shaken my head at: the ones that instill pity, and evoke self-righteous feelings to those who pick up the phone, or leave you feeling like there’s nothing to do for ‘them’. Some documentaries just document horror and try to squeeze in as many graphic images of guerrilla troops and bloodshed living in that stereotypical ‘heart of darkness’. Some documentaries look at the desolation and what foreigners are doing for locals, how outsiders alone are solving the problems. Perspectives on Africa, or the “Majority World” in general are often informed by films or notions like these. Perpetuating ‘us’ and ‘them’.

As the title suggests, “JustUs” studies the MDGs and Rwandan life from the perspective that everyone from anywhere can and should be taking steps to meet the goals. The video documents the need; it discusses the goals and why they are set, and how they are being achieved (in this case Rwandan projects solving Rwandan issues, sometimes partnering with internationals and larger organizations in extending their reach). The perspective that on earth there is work being done by ‘us’ (humanity as a whole). Interviews in the documentary, depicting need and progress, evaluate what is being done as a whole. Africa is not a continent waiting around for foreigners to solve its problems. Dynamic local individuals and teams are bringing about change – sometimes small because of means, but Africa is not a stagnant place. For development to happen, the world needs to partner together (this is the 8th MDG). Grassroots and governments; individuals and organizations; us.

The entire documentary had me slipping in and out of memory and personal experiences in the sub-Saharan, which is what drew me to it so strongly. It showed the Africa I knew, not some westernized version of Africa with Alex Trebek holding your hand to tell the story. Rwandans set the content and held the dialogue – it was their voice talking about their country, needs, and successes. This is what I think international education should be made of.

My blog has run far too long. words tripping over words. The JustUs Project is touring Canada right now, and sometime next year the documentary will be available to all for purchase. Check out www.thejustusproject.com for more info on it all, including general info on the MDGs.

Getting involved with partners those we have here at SpanAfrica exist to also drive the point home that humanity needs to work together – learn and understand the differences so we can see our similarity. It’s the similarity that inspires motivation for justice.

Goodbye in Rwanda is a word I have yet to learn. So I’ll sign off with what’s familiar.

Cheers, Cam

Muli Shani!    (desperate attempt to speak a word in Zambian Bemba)                                                        

                Even though it’s been over four months since I was in Kenya, time has barely slowed, and SPAN has continued to push forward. Even though I’m not even in Africa, it seems that emails from and about Zambia, Nigeria, and Kenya are what fill my inbox most. And they definitely seem to fill my thoughts most also.

So even though, I am lacking in my own stories and anecdotes from sub-Saharan life, I thought continuing a blog would be one of the ways to summarize (the long into short) what’s going on with SPAN on the other end of the line.

  Expanding SPAN to Zambia has been one of those exciting accomplishments that came together with a year of work with our new Regional Director for Zambia, Kenneth Kasweshi. Kenneth and I met while we were both attending a conference on global prison social support systems being held in Toronto, Canada. Our conversation plunged first off from our mutual interest in microfinance to the work he was doing in 44 of Zambia’s prisons. His work for Prison Fellowship Zambia in the city of Ndola in the southeast of the country, addressed a unique but vital aspect to development. The organization works on a broad scale, from training incarcerated persons with valuable skills to medical support to supporting the families of prisoners, and even to providing microloans to ex-convicts as a way of revitalising their lives and encouraging healthy steps for sustainable reintegration.

                Long to the short, Kenneth patiently worked alongside us staff to answer questions and set up SPAN operations with homestays, contacts, legal and cultural information, and introduced us to several great grassroots organizations. We’re right now preparing several candidates for an expected trip to Zambia in January. So excited to see this happen! It all comes together. Muli Shani (hello) is the only word I know – Bemba being only one of Zambia’s 73 languages, I have a long way to go. but have fingers crossed to get myself to Zambia in the next year to also get in on the action and gain a word or two more.

            When I was in Kenya, I spent most of my time, and lots of my blog writing talking about Baobab Branch: the alternative education organization that I got to co-found with my good friend Amos Otieno (Kenya’s Regional Director). Back when I left, the office was finished design (refer to martha stewart colonialism), and the first students had braved the doorstep. It was just beginning to take off, as I had to also – take off. In the past few months, Baobab Branch received its Kenyan NGO status, and has admitted its first group of students who are receiving their high school degrees where before they weren’t able to afford school. Of course, a big amount of thanks has to go out to the few donors who took to sponsoring these students, but excitedly enough Baobab Branch has also continued to bring in paying students who also want and can afford the services, which is offsetting the costs a lot, and hopefully bringing the organization closer to its goals for complete local self-sustainability.

               Morokoshi Nursery School, another project that fellow board member Kai Staats and I became involved with is also doing great. The founder and ED, Steve Muriithi, is forever sending me excited emails about how the teachers are improving the standards; how the solar panel lights are working out; how students are excelling; and how his crops are growing.

If you skim down to the bottom of the blog, you’ll see the picture of the new desks for the kids (with chairs to come) that Steve raised the funds for – with his addictive market juice stand – that is another big recent step forward for the school, which is still hoping to find a way to build another classroom for January to extend up a further grade and take these students to grade one.

             On the other side of the world – seemingly as far away as you can get from the balmy equatorial weathers of Kenya and Zambia, SPAN is thrilled to have partnered with Canadian high school student Nikita Desai. This Kenyan raised ambitious livewire I’ve gotten to know over the past bit, has decided to use her social group’s efforts to link her high school with Morokoshi Nursery School. Her school benefits from a lot of learning and education about this kindergarten powerhouse in Kenya, and they’re in turn raising funds to hopefully further the scope and possibilities of what is already being done on the ground. Nikita will have her own SPAN blog running soon, so that’s all I’ll say there. You’ll have to read hers to learn more. http://blogs.spanafrica.org/nikitadesai/

        While SPAN as an organization has spent a lot of work over the past while doing website tinkering, readjusting the board to increase participation and involvement, and setting up our plans and direction for the future, the fireworks and excitement of SPAN goings on, we can proudly say is being held up by our local African partners and our volunteers who have continued to do fantastic work in whatever field they’ve been working for. Even though my position doesn’t allow me to interact personally with most of SPAN’s volunteers, I am glad to receive good reports on what they’ve been doing over the past summer for a number of our partners. Well done to you all!

        Rambles turn to drawn on blurs, and my attempts for the short have miserably become long. But I suppose after taking a writing hiatus, and with all that I know has been going on, I ended up having to share it all.

Hope everyone is well!

As internet says to say chau in Bemba:

Kafke Nipo,

Cam

The sky is brightening.

The Baobab Branch office was painted ‘Northern Sky Blue’ and that’s the colour of the sky out the window. I no longer have a view of banana trees, gliding ibis, and stone walls stacked with broken glass. Now I have this blue Northern sky, framed by budding maple and crab apple trees. After being in a place of raw expression, emotion, events and landscape for so long, it feels quite surreal to be back in the soft quiet of Canada.

My last week in Nakuru had me learning how to install solar panels under Kai’s lead, at Morokoshi Nursery School. Camping out in Steve’s farmhouse under kerosene lamp and twinkling stars was a great way to slow down and just breathe for a moment or two before my segue home. I managed to get all of my final errands, meetings, coffee cups and chapatis, and goodbye’s accomplished in my last moments. I boarded the plane in Nairobi feeling like I’d achieved what I’d set out to do. I tied all the trip’s strings together, just as Amos and I ran through some final business details on our early 5:00 taxi route to the airport.

Can I summarize my entire trip? Draft some succinct culminating sentences to put it all together? The trip was just a lot of days, a lot of experiences, a lot of challenges, a lot of good times. In my head, it’s not working itself to those summative statements I was expecting I’d have. Maybe in years to come I’ll be able to do that. Perhaps it’s all still too current. I still hold the inkling that outiside the front door are those banana trees and bicycle taxis and noisy children and cows and charcoal venders.

I had assumed this blog would be an easy one to write. Everyone who has experienced Africa seems to always have so much to say. Dinensen, Kipling, Hemmingway, Paton, Achebe, Dahl, Conrad, Livingstone, Ng’weno, Geldof, Stanley, Equiano. And I agree a trip to Africa should dissolve writer’s block generally, but I’m left looking back, maybe without the foggiest idea of what just happened. Boom, you’re in Kenya. Boom, a million things to do and process. Boom, you’re back. Maybe it was because I could write in the moment, all those other blogs, that they came out so easily.

But where this trip maybe hasn’t yet given me life’s answers, or clarity, or a certificate; it has given me the desire for continuing – continuing a life of travel, exploration, trying new things, collaboration, learning, living. ‘Msafiri’.

A few months ago, I came across Ulysses, stored on my computer. I copied it to my journal, and ended up reading it to Amos a couple times. Even though my life is hardly Greek epic, I thought I’d end off with a few lines that say more than my own pen is producing. The thought of loving each day and continuing forward, is one thing this trip has shown me, I can’t really afford to not have in life.

Finallly, thanks to everyone – from my homes in Canada and Kenya who helped me through all and everything. Each of you has become part of my story, and I know I couldn’t have done anything without all of you. Special thanks to Amos, Ruth, Allan, and Steve who held my hand through it all and made the trip such an incredible thing. I look forward to when we can be together again.

Signing off,

Cameron

I cannot rest from travel; I will drink
Life to the lees. All times I have enjoy’d
Greatly, have suffer’d greatly, both with those
That loved me, and alone;

For always roaming with a hungry heart
Much have I seen and known,– cities of men
And manners, climates, councils, governments,
Myself not least, but honor’d of them all,–

I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro’
Gleams that untravell’d world whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish’d, not to shine in use!
As tho’ to breathe were life!

To follow knowledge like a sinking star,
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.
To those of you who have yet to experience the sub-Sahara, I suggest you purchase a ticket soon. Camesh.

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2015211&l=f26d0&id=180500406 (a visual summary)

Yes,

I’ve been neglectful to blogging. Je m’excuse. Life has given me no time to sleep, no time to breathe, and lastly no time to write. Life has moved at an unprecedented pace ever since Kai arrived (Coloradian guy from SPAN). We have been having a great time together, but we seemed to consumed each other’s break time.

Since Kai’s arriving, we ran through Nairobi to a number of SPAN sites including most memorable WOFAK (promoting support for women with AIDS). Topped off with a few other quick visits to placements and homestays gave quite the adventure. And Kai’s friend Rie whom he met in India, originally from Japan joined us at this point and then it was the three of us.

Back to Nakuru, with moments to spare, we were back on bus for Uhuru Falls an hour east of home. Gorgeous! It provides the pictures that insight jealousy and cause you to lose friends. But the pollution was just disguisting. Just standing in the mist, you’re choking wondering what death virus has pranced off the cliffs above and is settling into your lungs. Overall, still a great trip. It’s all about the pictures, isn’t it?

In Nakuru, Kai and I worked really steadily to develop an official SPAN package dealing with Human Rights. We have realized that we need to really ensure that none of our partners are violating human rights, and in doing so have spent a few days culminating a package and developing Kenyan contacts with organizations that deal with abuse and neglect of children. It’s been hard stuff to deal with, but we hope in the end we can use this to further support our partners in their efforts to treat all of their clients to the best of their abilities.

Amos and Ruth have now officially announced their engagement, with the traditional ceremony of introductions happening last weekend. THis was a time when Amos wasn’t allowed to say a lick, and others had to defend him as a suitable husband to Ruth’s parents. I had a great time – and as tendency holds – ended up chatting on end with everyone and anyone. Over the past 5 months I’ve gotten to know a number of their family members, so it was fun to see them all together. And the food – delish. Unfortunately I’m just missing the offering of cattle in the rural home of Nyanza at the end of the month.

An a heavier note, one of the children at Morokoshi Nursery where I’ve been teaching died during the holidays. The $10 for medication never made it to him, as Steve and I were unaware, and we received report when school opened again last week. I’ve been able to get a training session into the teachers on dealing with PTSD (a special thanks to Elva, Ashley, and Devon who were all part of getting me this info compiled!).

K ai, Rie, and I are heading back there tomorrow, where we’re going to install solar panels, and just spend a moment out of the city. THe poor apartment they’d been staying in was a boombox magnifier of the noise on the street below. You never slept in past 5. I ended up crashing on their rug a few nights when our work kept us up late – I think the stellar sleep there is a big component of my sleepiness.

This trip is coming near to finishing itself off. A few friends, and a number of kids have offered to kidnap me to resolve that issue, and I must admit my resistance to those statements holds weak. Except that Tim (bro) has his big musical debut a day or two after coming home. Beauty & Beast thumps my iPod often, and I’m pretty excited for it all. I have a strange feeling there may be plethera of smoke machines involved.

As I intravenous my last cups of Kenyan brew and race round to say my farewells and tie up all ends, I’ll end here.

Yako, (yours)

Cam

SALUT A TOUT LE MONDE!

In grade 9 French, I used to write essays in capslock so I wouldn’t need to put in the accents. The Arabic keyboards I’m using here are my excuse for not finding the appropriate accent keys

I thought I’d start off today’s blog petit, avec the culture crisis I’ve had here and my realization that Canada can’t claim any authority whatsoever on our definitive word ‘eh’.

For anyone outside of Canada, you may not know that most Canadians (self-included) like to end every sentence with the word ‘eh?’ It reflects our down to earth nature, our fear of offending anyone, and therefore removes the strength of everything we say by reformulating it into a kind question.

Canadian translation of ‘eh’ – yeah? right? (please) agree?

Having spent a lot of time over the past few months with Kikuyus, who speak the aptly titled language ‘kikuyu’, I’ve come to discover that we are in short stock of ability to use the word ‘eh’, which they will use several times in a sentence covering the most broad scope of uses.

Kikuyu translation of ‘eh’ – yeah? right? agree? yes! no! uh huh. what? ummm… uhhhh… hello. goodbye. ah! I understand. I don’t understand. Well then.

So throw it all into a sentence (i’ll kindly translate into english)

person one: Eh! hey. eh, what’s new? eh…

person two: Eh. Eh…. not much. Eh… Can I buy a mango?eh?

person one: Eh. Costs, eh… 20 bob. Eh?

person two: Eh! that’s too expensive, eh. 15, eh?

person one: Eh. alright, eh. See you, eh.

person two: Eh.

So, to my dear fellow Canadians, we are back to clinging to French folk songs, Native igloos, red leaves, and beaver tails (the animal and Wonderland snack). We can’t honestly claim ownership (or even proper usership) of our kindly word ‘eh’. Sorry, eh?

I’ve just thought I needed to write sometime about the word ‘eh’, as I think it’s fun to use as many times in sentences as they do. Just saying the word ‘eh’ could fool the average person you speak a decent amount of kikuyu, which I overuse daily.

Anyways, ma vie est bien. life’s going well. Mungiki spiced the country with disruptions to travel and business earlier this week, but they’ve decided once again to behave, and have gone back to their other day jobs.

I spent yesterday at Jamii Bora, a grassroots microfinance organization here in Kenya. For those of you who have yet to know more about me, I have a closet crush (maybe more of a tabloid covered love) on microfinance and the impact it’s having on development around the world.

Anyways, I got a very complete download – some 5 hour meeting yesterday, with different directors and head managers of the organization, running me through all strategies, details, stories, and all over their head office. It was absolutely fantastic, and is being run so successfully. (in the guest book, some Grameen Bank officials had stopped by a day or two before, and also had some very positive things to say about it). It was just good to see. For any of you other mfi geeks – they’re using finger scans, smart cards, trust groups of 5, building levels of loan qualification, microinsurance (life and health), and have a huge building complex going up in a place called Karateoi (sp?).

This building project is coming at conflict. As I matatu’d (buss’d) back to Nakuru from Nairobi with friend Ruth (I also applied for alien registration yesterday, so I’ll get major discounts in the national parks. also so i’m not staying here illegally right now). Back to Ruth – ruth works for Kenyan Conflict Resolution Org, and was talking about how the Maasai are up in arms with this new building project, which is on their land, they fear will monopolize their business, and is also interfering with herd migrations (wilder beast and the like). So Ruth was saying that the Maasai are mentioning how they may just attack the settlement (quite Maasai cultural way of handling these situations), and use the homes to keep their cows. I’ll keep my ears open (and may try and get to the site), and I can give you a further scoop on it all.

What else to report? SPAN Board Member Kai Staats is flying into the country next week, after a month (or more?) of Japan, India, Indonesia, and however many other countries there are to do business with on that side of the world). So I’ll finally get to meet him – the guy with whom I’ve sent hundreds and hundreds of emails to, and have yet to set face with.

I’ve blathered far too long, eh? Apologies and niceties all around.

Affec’ly yours,

Cam-eh

(as some dear beach bum friends aptly call me for my ironically overuse of the aforementioned word.) Maybe we Canadians will just have to share.

A Hello to you all,

Somehow last time I wrote, I was getting over an overdose of relaxation and suncream. It seems like ages ago. My week has been filled with a lot of ‘never yets’. I was writing a letter to town council for the town market, and threw in the term ‘never yet’ – and uncertain as to whether it’s actually english or not, I decided to err with Shakespeare and Seuss against Webster and Johnson, and keep it in the letter.

My past days have been filled with the crossing off of a few ‘never yets’, and i think with this blog, I’ll just list the few.

1 ) I gave my first university lecture. It was to a course on leadership/ business/ something something; and I got to speak on improving personal employability. It was a rush.

2) I spent my first afternoons in Baobab Branch (for those of you just tuning in, it’s the educational programme NGO that Amos and I have started here in Nakuru). The little bits of office administration, and the crossing off of ‘never yet had kenyans pay ME’ for something, as we had our first few sign up for our programmes. That was a rush.

3) I dipped my hand into public speaking at Morokoshi Nursery School graduation to the grandmothers of the children (AIDS and clashes wiped away most of the parents). I used my kitchen Swahili and Kikuyu, and then resorted to translator, but it was fun trying.

4) Malaria. It hit late last week, and I was out of commission for a few days. Compared to typhoid, it really was a breezy walk in the park, because I caught it early enough and got on meds super quick. But the hallucinations and dreams gave me some entertainment.

5) April’s Fool. My friend Steve, woke me up at 4:30 in the morning on April 1 with a message that Menengai Crater had errupted, IDPs were fleeing, and lava was moving quickly through the low lying region. Going outside and smelling something off-sulphurish and seeing some cloud formation over the lake, I assumed it was completely true, and went around town (and internet) telling people that it had hit. And with Steve living right in the area, and my understanding of how delayed newscasts were, it wasn’t until late that night when it never made the news that I realized I was a complete April’s Fool. I’ve never fallen like that before.

I thought I had one or two others floating in my head, but maybe I’ll resume the ‘never yets’ in some other blog. With my down time at home, I was able to finish a book I was reading, and am re-reading Paul Theroux’s Dark Star Safari – which I highly recommend to anyone with any affinity or connection to Africa.

Well, that’s it. A list of never yets, and a week of hot dry weather. The rains have ended, prematurely, and we are now facing drought. food prices are going up – some items 20%, which as you know means that the already tight pockets of those recovering from the past clashes, and general poverty of the country, and scrimping even tighter. it really is a different world over here.

SPAN has got its placements prepped and open for late spring/ summer/ and fall volunteers. Kenya thankfully is once again flowing with tourists, and life here is moving as ever, which is good to see.

With this, I bid adieu, with a smile and a sweaty brow. (and I”m all better now, so not a worry)

Cam

“Human beings are more alike than unlike, and what is true anywhere is true everywhere. Yet I still encourage travel to as many destinations as possible for the sake of education and enjoyment.” Maya Angelou

mombasa pics:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2014249&l=9195c&id=180500406

Howdy y’all,

I’m back from the beach, properly sunsoaked with the right amount of soreness on my shoulders and nose. The trip was fantastic: just so good to see more parts of Kenya (beautiful drives, even though they were long), and then getting into Mombasa to bum on the beach with good friend Aimee Komant from uni (back in the day).

But I’m back in Nakuru again, and life is bubbling up its busyness. Baobab is opened now (yay) and we’re already pushing ahead to find another room. Morokoshi is pushing ahead with registration and plans. Our crew in Japan are meeting today to discuss updates and everything, so that’s exciting. SPAN volunteer applications are beginning to flow in, and with the return of complete stability and movement forward in government, we are hoping for lots more to come.

I don’t really have much to say in this blog. Facebook photos say it all, pretty much. But as the week continues, and everything eventful here mounts, I’ll put on another blog.

Chipper cheers,

Cam

I’m off!

The time has finally come for a good break on the beach. Sand as opposed to dust, chilly ocean as opposed to chilly shower, sleep as opposed to power nap. Ahhhh… super excited.

Today I’m heading to Mombassa! I’ll spend a day in meetings in Nairobi, crash at a friend’s house, and then bright and early don my flips and Oakleys and prepare for some solid days of beach bumming.

Life has – (redundant?) – been great. The baobab branch office will open on Tuesday. So it’s been a relay week back and forth between the office and everywhere – bringing books, stocking shelves, sweeping mopping scrubbing, hanging. Amos and I are thrilled to finally be opening. We have our advertisement packages set, business cards to come, sign hung, and secretary hired. Now all we need are customers ; ). Actually, we have those lined up too. So, yes I’ll be sun basking while Amos is drilling away back here, but I put in my extra hours this week to balance out some.

What else is new. Morokoshi and the rural area of Murunyu where I’ve also been working – we’re developing a tree re-planting effort

! News – yesterday I was 8 feet away from Wangari Maathai! I got all trembly-like giddy. Anyways, I got her phone number, so we’re going to try and set her Greenbelt Movement onto funding (fingers crossed) the Murunyu replanting. Hold my breath there. But I got to see her, and after watching all those documentaries, and reading all those articles about her, it was a little dreamlike. crush.

Life at Pistis is good. I was teaching on Wednesday. I taught gr. 11 history, and grade 8 religion (varients between Jews and Christians, which led to the inevitable chat on what effect 50 cent has one people… haha, i’m a broke record). Then after school there was a big debate in the church over whether technology has done more good or harm. It was fun to be a part of.

I’ve been trying to keep note of the little stories so I can keep the blog colourful and not bland summary.

Mini story: my matatu driver on the way home from Murunyu a few days ago sat me in the front seat so he could take me around and show me the entire area. Cigarette & match slumping out the right of his mouth, he gave me play by play on every shop and farm we passed. Buffalo Soldier wailing in the background and rain pelting down relentlessly, turning the dust road to mud. I got quite the history of the area. Conversation turned to his desire for better education, and his dream of learning to swim. That was just one of those little enjoyable moments that made up a step in the day.

Well, to you all, next time I write, I’ll hopefully be caked in aloe vera, glowing rosy, and eager to get back to life here. But for now, ‘adios, voy al copa cobana!’ where music and fashion are always the passions.

Hakuna Matata always,

your barefoot boy.

So,

My peanut-gallery audience, apparently I’m not writing enough. Profound apologies to all

Life’s moved into patterns and sync, and it’s not every day I’m petting cheetahs or whatever other exciting things I’ve had to write about in past blogs. Life’s just moving amidst the pitter patter of tasks, places, times – many that I’ve already written about, and for fear of becoming redundant, I’ve slowed my writings. Apparently that’s not good enough

Actually life’s been great. The rains are slowly arriving. I was downtown Nairobi on Sunday when huge crashes of thunder brought in the first thick downpour of the season. It was so refreshing. The air just feels moist and clean. The fresh feeling you get watching Downy commercials. It was great. The days are still hot and sunsoaked, but it’s becoming more common to get some showers at night.

- see, get me writing too often, and all you get are weather reports.

SPAN is excited to have its first (hopefully of many) local volunteers. A university student, wanting to get his hands-on the hurting education here in Kenya, is now volunteering full time at Morokoshi Nursery School. He will be leading the PTSD programme for the children (a huge asset, since he speaks Kikuyu!) and assisting developmentally delayed students with private attention. We’re really thrilled to have him on board. With hopes that future international volunteers can work alongside local volunteers in our ever developing network, there will be even greater success in all set out to be done. There is still a big need for international minds and bodies here in Kenya, so if you’re toying with the idea, I’d encourage you to sign up.

What else is there to say? Not too much at all. Except, I hope everything back home is splendid; and that I’ll try desperately to have some adventure before my next blog to keep you readers happy.

Signing off,

Camao

Jambo jambo, hello hello

How are you all doing? The rainy season is beginning to role in with its cool winds and short rainfalls. Crop season will soon begin, and I’ll be able to shake some of this dust from my ears.

In the evenings I’ve been watching the BBC Series Planet Earth with a few friends here. SO great. and it gets you all thinking about how beautiful this world is – well the places humans haven’t yet had the chance to inhabit. There are two mountain ranges that surround Morokoshi Nursery school. Some corporation came in a few years back and stripped the hills of all their trees. Three cheer for erosion. Does anyone want to come plant trees?

I may be going on a Zambia roadtrip in April. Woot woot. Life never stops. I’m heading to Mombassa at the end of the month to meet with a dear friend coming from Rwanda. And I have a few reasons to be in Nairobi next week, so I’m not sure how steady my communications will be for the next bit – not that I’m not absolutely horrible at keeping in touch with everyone already… sorry

The week has been good. We officially opened the Morokoshi Community Library yesterday. I brought 2 student friends from Pistis (Ibu and Timo) to help out as we delved into accounts and book keeping record establishments for the Nursery School. They loved getting out of the town into the countryside. I think that during break I’m going to take the group of Form 4′s and we’ll climb one of the mountainsides out there.

I spent last night reading a LONG journal on children and PTSD – thanks Elva. Haha, wow it was long. Still trying to figure out how best to help these kids process the events the experienced.
It’s been a good week for just slowing down (only a bit) and getting some chance for reading and processing everything here. I’m re-reading The Giver. Such a great book – I’ll probably teach it in April. I’m also going to be doing some large group speakings – I have a nurse here who runs a youth group type project, and she wants me to speak about my thoughts on America and life – haha, my favourite topics. Can’t really say no to that.

The Baobab Branch office is coming along slowly. I’ll be in there doing the wood staining on Tuesday. Maybe we’ll be open by Friday? We’re realizing that the demand is going to be huge – and the realization we’re going to need some further class areas pretty soon. And roll out the paintbrush.

Hope you all are great!

Cam

It’s been a bit. Every blog I feel I start with “don’t know where to start”. And I don’t.

What’s new? The past week and a half I have been running back and forth between Nakuru and Nairobi like a madman. Gypsi and Jesse (good friends from uni) were in Ethiopia for six months, and dropped down to Kenya before heading off to Japan. So We had some intense hanging out. Jesse came north to Nakuru and I showed him around all the projects I’ve been working on. We climbed some ancient hill, took millions of photos, splurged on chinese food, and generally did everything but sleep.

Road – cards, dust, zebra, yogurt vendors, warthogs, epic mountain and valley scenes, baboons scavenging garbage, desperate attempts at nap. And we were in Nairobi again.

Meeting again with Gypsi and Beth (her mom) and we were off around the city. Drinks in Kibera with friends of mine, petting a cheetah, numerous schools in other urban slum areas, sneak-in half swimming at the Hilton, coffee with a Zimbabwean terrorist just before his arrest, and almost mine too (that’s a story for another time). playing with a baby elephant, night celebrations with local friends of mine at a Luhyo club after the PEACE DEAL WAS SIGNED (huge success on Annan’s part!) Hostels, nights in friends’ flats, Mexican food, meetings meetings meetings. connections connections connections. snap flash photos.

It was such a great time. But I came back to Nakuru – bump, baboon, carrot vendor, lake, farm, lake, farm, farm, forest, police attack alongside the road AK 47s blazing, farm, bump, farm.

So, I’m back to Nakuru. Tomorrow is reserved for Sleep. I also have some news – my trip has seemed too short, and I’ve extended my plane ticket until late May. I miss you all far too much for this not to be a very deliberated decision, but I’m loving things here, and just have far too much to do right now.

With that, I’ll end off. Nairobi, Nairobi: livin’ la vida loca. I’ve missed far too many stories, experiences, things i’ve learned, but that will make return stories that much more exciting.

Cam

Well,

I can’t ever believe how much has happened since I wrote last. I spent a day running around Nairobi, and even hit up Little Mogadishu (sort of like your run of the mill Chinatown, but this is mini Somaliland – minus the chaos and violence and such just filled with old Somali refugees. It’s a really poor region, but served good juice).

I spent another day or two teaching nursery school and working with Steve (founder, ED) working on some policy development plans, and began library formations there.

Then there’s been the big excitement – Amos and I, now that we have our own official office for Baobab Branch Educational Programmes (as now registered). The office needed major work! The floor was in brutal need for new tiles, and the walls were cracked and splotched with ugly paint. And there were some antiquated shelves taking up half of the room, mounted on the walls.

The countless hours I’ve spent watching Trading Spaces, Divine Design, Home Makeover, While You Were Out, Debbie Travis, Oprah’s Nate, and all of those other Women’s Television and TLC home deco specials have finally gone to use. I pulled up the hundreds of Pottery Barn room samples on my computer (that I downloaded amidst some brutal university essays), and gave Amos his Renovations101 crash course.

I was thinking about it in relation to my general views on my work here. My intentions have never been to change Africa, make it western, or throw some ‘catch up’ modernization theories at them. Ashamedly, all that went out the window with my decoration passions. My name is Cameron and I am, admittedly, a Martha Stewart Colonialist. – trying to get away from the hideous colour samples used all over town, the tacky wall coverings, and over used lace window ornaments. I have thrown out all my noble attempts to work within the African context over some neutral tiles and Northern Sky blue paint chips.

Anyways, the office has ended up beautiful (thus far – we still need to have the furniture built, and the tiles installed). But I’ve had a lot of fun over the past week painting, planning, drafting, and designing.

The country itself has gone back to peace and productivity, though tourists are still reluctant. Kibaki ( the illegitimate cronie government and his henchmen) are rejecting Kofi Annan and his work, and the international community is stepping up harsher and harsher. Condoleeza Rice was here a few days ago, with some strong (definitely needed words). We need to see what will happen here.

Other than that, life’s great – I’m healthy again, and busy, and happy. And would love for a surprise visit from any of you

Cam

A few days ago I was in at the internet, and realized I had nothing new & exciting to write about. And then the past few days – oh so many potentially blog-errific stories for you all.35 cent rollercoaster rides. No, Disneyland hasn’t come to Kenya. I’m referring to the bus trips I take to town each morning.

I’m standing at the side of the road – wind and dust in my hair, trucks and motorists blasting by adding diesel fumes to my dust hair product. Schwoosh, a mini bus for 14 pulls off the road, swerving to align itself with me standing there, eyes closed, getting my final spray of dust on the road. The bus is generally full. Maybe already 15 or 16 inside. Today I’m lucky and get a seat right in the middle. The Kenyan beats are already overblaring on the cracked speakers. Before even seated, the bus has pulled back into the highway traffic. Those cars close enough swerve to miss us as we barrel onto the road.

My seat is designed proper rollercoaster fashion. There are no seatbelts. The seat itself isn’t even properly linked to the floor, so you get the whole inside motion that only the highest quality rollercoasters provide. The road may be straight, but the beeline of the bus is anything but direct. Time is of the essence, and the committed driver will do anything in his power to get us there as quickly as possible. 45 degree shoulders, we’ll be barrelling along. The child beside falls into my lap. We’re holding on. All of us except for our seat. Keeping it properly on the floor is the job of our arms and legs. I’ve paid my 35 cent toll, but there’s some work included in the job also. So far, we’ve decided to stay colonial and drive on the left side of the road. But, as the world seems to be going also, our driver decides to switch to American and drive on the right side. Naturally this side has less traffic. Oncoming traffic no longer passes to the left. It passes on the middle of the newly formed 2 lines of traffic.

Cows on the road? Nothing that can’t be overcome. Off the road all together. Down in the dust roads. A few irritated walkers jump out of the way. We’re pulling this proper. For good measure, the driver takes a detour just to drive top notch around a tree. Crunch, back down the steep incline (3 feet of compacted dust) and we’re back to the highway. A twist roundabout converts the 2 lines of traffic into one tight grind that slows enough to pull into town, and drop off all its non-plussed passengers. And the best part – to get your driving license in Kenya, it’s not really about a test. It’s about a bribe. That is how far Canadian money goes here. All that entertainment and it’s practically free.

The rest of life has been great. I spent yesterday at a nursery school out in the countryside that a friend started. I hadn’t been to his farm in almost 2 years, so it was great to be back. And the nursery is absolutely fantastic. Steve built it on his shamba (homefarm land), and is taking in students that cannot afford the $10 a term costs for education. I did some teaching there – I was able to tell the Story of Goldilocks and the Three Lions in Swahili all by myself. It’s coming along enough. Working with kids is what really pushes my language. The walk in took us past houses burned in the conflict. Steve has taken in 14 refugee children. These children obviously experienced more of the trauma of the conflicts and you can see it on their faces. There are a few that haven’t even spoken since arrival. If any of you have experience (or any ideas) for therapy of children going through PTSD, send me an email, as I’m not sure how to support the teachers, who are asking for suggestions. At the school, Mokoroshi School(seeds), I’m going to set up a library, train the teachers, and help set the foundations from a home-project to a recognized organization with international links. I’m really excited to spend time here. There are cows and sheep and chickens to play with over recess. Lots of needs, in an overwhelming setting of beauty.

I have more stories, but this blog is quite long enough I’m sure.

Your very own Africana Jones,

Camesh

So,

Karma struck. The one time since grade school I decided to splurge and chow down on some fast food hamburgers, what happens? No, not tummy ache. No, not obesity. Yes, typhoid.

I didn’t even know what Typhoid really was a few days ago. But anyways, alongside pickles and ketchup, my burgers came with a side of Typhoid, which has had me in bed the past few days feeling gross. Understatement, yes, but we’ll overlook details.

So that’s what’s been big and exciting on this end. Things pre-death, have been going great. Amos has been diligent and got some stuff accomplished in Nairobi that we need to get done to move ahead on our work. Things are going well at the school – a few of the refugee kids are homesick (did i write about that already? maybe?) , but they’re at least in classes, and teachers and students are trickling back into the schoo. The country is running almost normally now.

Raila Odinga has been taking steps to reduce tensions and try to resolve issues with the government (bravo for him), and the country is generally moving back to peace and progress.

that’s about it from me. Will be heading to Mombassa later this month with a few friends from University (Gypsi and Jesse for those of you who know) and am excited lots for that.

Big Smiles, and surgeon’s warning to stay away from Tangerine fast Food restaurants!

Cam

So,

The past week or so of life has been a lot of teaching. No, not the ‘abc’s too much, but I’ve been working with the form 4′s (grade 12′s) because their teachers haven’t returned. So I’ve been able to run a monopoly on their learning, and teach whatever I want.

We’ve been doing a lot of everything – basically taking whatever the students want to learn, and have been doing it. I’ve taught some history, philosophy, politics and African politics, media studies, and we’ve started some piano lessons. I’m in little bliss. It’s been so great, and the kids have been really self-motivated for the work.

We’re also trying to prepare them for graduation to ‘the real world’ – talking lots about employability, living arrangements, savings planning, career and further education discussions, and working on interview and resume developments.

That’s been my past week, squished into 2 paragraphs. Oh! And then there was the day when we did the maize processing. It started early, with laying out all of the maize (donated through SPAN) onto the basketball court to dry. The next steps were sifting, sorting, mixing, adding preservatives to it all, rebagging, and then taking it to the mill to be ground. It was a whole ‘barn raising’ type process, where everyone of every age was involved in some aspect of the work. It was just fun to be a part of, and knowing that there’s so much processed maize now for them made it all the better.

Weather’s been great. Spent yesterday lounging at the pool with Harry Potter, and just doing nothing all day. It was a needed break, and then treated Amos and Ruth to pizza for dinner, which Amos liked, Ruth politely declined after one bite – it makes me feel better knowing that they think some of our foods are disgusting too. Especially as I have to decline the odd dish now and then too.

Hope everyone on the other side of the world is great!

Cheerio,

your part farmer/ part teacher/ part pizza eater: Cam

Hello Hello!

To everyone who’s been waiting to hear from me – sending emails and facebook’ers I need to apologize for taking so long to write. Internet has been down in town for the past week or more, and I’ve been hanging out at home mainly.

Where can I begin? I”m sure you’re all watching the news – seeing the tension and violence, the refugees, Kofi Annan’s efforts to restore peace; hearing about the killed MP, the tribal tensions wafting the country, the destroyed train tracks.

It’s been a long week. I could take hours explaining every day – every detail of what’s been going on. There’s been so much.

I worked at the refugee camp for a bit; part time with Red Cross issuing food cards and registration; part time in the Unicef school tents set up in grade 3 and kindergarten. Things at the camp were tense. I watched an international press vehicle being smashed in and looted because a reporter said that Kibaki was fraud.

The schools were makeshift and overwhelmed. At least 100 children in a class; generally less than 3 teachers to cover this group of children whose abilities ranged so drastically.

With the onslaught of tension and violence, I holed up at home for a while. Amos and I worked on completing Baobab Branch’s Constitution and step plans for everything.

My birthday came and went. I treated Amos to Chinese food – something new for him that he enjoyed. It was a great birthday, thanks everyone for your notes.

I’ve been back at Pistis for the past few days. The children are fine. The number of refugee children has increased to 30. My Kikuyu is coming slowly At the school, I’ve been teaching some, with teachers not returning to the school yet. I retaught my course on ‘global history’ for the grade 12′s, and we’re continuing on our other projects together.

What else – I’ve had a cold, and a terribly runny nose. But that’s getting better. I’m happy. Amos and I are enjoying living together and we spent A LOT of time together the past week because we were both home. We have such great chats, and I think we’re teaching each other so much.

This morning, I did my washing again. Two full lines of (pretty) clean clothing hung up to dry. I felt so proud I took a picture. If I had all day, I’d try downloading it for you to see. But it’s really just hanging laundry, nothing fancy, not even hung properly, definitely not washed properly (so you’d probably be more disappointed or amused than anything else).

That’s it. I’ve summarized everything? sort of, I suppose. But I’m happy, safe, and getting better quickly.

Love to everyone,

Cam

Again,

Where do you even start in writing one of these blogs. Life is full! I think I’ll just go chrono this time, update on the past few days.

Things in Kenya are still a muck – political leaders who refuse to resolve issues are coming at costs to the people. The shilling is beginning to fall, and schools have only just opened today – over two weeks of delay. Grrr…

I’m trotting at quite a pace. I had my first sleep over at Pistis (orphanage) last night. Had a blast (wasn’t really expecting anything other). We played some games, and then watched Chronicles of Narnia late into the night – 8:00 pm; I was completely knackered.

Saturday began early – these kids don’t know the art of sleeping in. Chai and some dopey milling around the campus took up my morning. In the afternoon Mama Wekesa took me to the refugee camp just outside the town. Pistis has been requested continually to show up and take some kids from the site. So off we went to the camp.

I didn’t really know what to expect – was it going to be everything that Hotel Rwanda portrayed? Was it going to be filled with internationals running around; crying lost children; men patrolling with guns? What was it like?

It’s like a lot of people scattered over a large area. You see the random World Vision, Islamic Medical Society, or Amnesty International flag or van around. You see the random mzungu with a video camera. Long queues for food portions, kids milling about, impromptu laundry lines strung up about, and general mill of people making their ways to and fro.

Reality is – refugee camps are boring. The people there are starved for something to do. Their jobs, lives, everything are on hold. They’re bored. This Showgrund Camp is currently holding 10 000 people. 5 000 of them are children; 90% of them are Kikuyu – forced to leave their burning homes predominantly from the west in Eldoret and Burnt Forest.

A lot of parents hiding out in forests – afraid of continued violence against them (because the man they voted for wasn’t satisfied with the number of votes he got and decided to add a few bushels of complimentary votes to the mix). Fearing their children wouldn’t survive the forests, many have sent them alone to the refugee camps. Food supplies are low – the kids are taking a cup of porridge each morning; the adults receive theirs in the afternoon.

The general feeling that I got from chatting with people was their general frustration with how both sides are refusing to reconcile and this is coming at a cost to them. No government officials have family stuck in refugee camps; none of them are having their houses burnt. The awareness of the situation among the youth is scattered; a lot of them seem resilient to the chaos – though I think I’m also a bit of a distraction in the camp, with many of them never having seen mzungus (whites) before – so a couple times I’ve been bowled over by kids just trying to reach and get a hold of some mzungu skin.

I’m planning to spend a few days a week at the refugee camp, working alongside a local Red Cross volunteer who said he wants to tag team with me. I’ll be working predominantly with youth, not in counseling but in games, and doing what I only feel capable to do – be an amusing distraction for passing time.

Pistis has accepted to house 20 children for the time being. Several of us went and picked up the children today in a matatu and brought them back. I spent my afternoon with the kids – few who speak any English at all, and the youngest ones are mainly dependent on Kikuyu – a language I’ve barely even attempted to learn. I think I’ve got two words mastered now. But played games and snacked and had some of the older kids read them story books in Kiswahili, which they liked a lot. That and more pulling at mzungu skin

What else is new… I finally took my paints out and have been doing some painting – loving that. Hmmmm, I thought there was more going on that I wanted to write about.

Oh, yes! I’ve braved ‘handwashing my clothing’. I feel like a child splashing around in a bathtub while doing it, and don’t think the clothes come out much cleaner at all when I do it – but I still have that sheepish pride in having done something all by myself.

And I’ve started teaching my two new courses. One on ‘The Meaning of You’, and one on ‘Business and Further Academics’ – both courses for the Pistis kids graduating this year, with hopes to give them an upper hand in the hard job market here.

Missing you all. Violence has decreased, and there is hope that Kofi Annan , who arrives tomorrow(?) will be able to bring some resolution to things.

Nitasema tena – (will chat again later)

Cam

Jambo friends,

How is life in the West? I don’t know where to start in talking about things here. I know a lot of things have happened politically in Kenya, so I’ll start there for y’all.

So the past few days Amos and I have been glued to the screen, keeping up to date on things. In the House of Commons, the new speaker brought in was the one wanted by ODM (the good guys who should be having their leader Odinga in office). So that’s a big defeat to cronie Kibaki. For those of you who have sat through Question Period in Canada and not been able to believe the childishness and irritable qualities found in MPs, you’d be thrilled to watch the Kenyan House. Yes – the general shouting, slander, delays and incessant cheering – but then you also get the odd fist fight, and some quite outspoken ‘honorables’.

ODM had their scheduled riots set for yesterday (wednesday). They went as planned. I bunged myself up at home with the tv. Again with tear gas, huge throves of army clashing with and chasing protestors, car fires, felled telephone poles, gunfire. Things have been pretty serious, particularly in the northwestern towns of Kisumu and Eldoret (no I won’t be visiting them this trip) with burned schools and businesses. Many schools still have to resume, there are still large numbers of displaced people, and even some businesses have not returned to schedule.

Nakuru (my town) has been a haven for peace and a ground for housing refugees. This doesn’t affect things too much for the locals. The only impact it’s had on Amos and I was the fact they’ve been diverting water, so we’ve only had 2 hours of it since arriving, but that’s not too different for many people anyways.

Kofi Annan who was to arrive yesterday did not, due to sickness. Hopefully he’ll come soon. But things hopefully will look up, and if it counts for anything, things are certainly not getting worse. As a lot of people are talking, this is not a tribal affair, but it’s a lot of unemployed young men with nothing to lose (and I suppose everything to gain) if the situation turns in their favor, which is why there have been the issues with the riots and attacks. For many, the political situation is an excuse, and a chance to express their frustrations towards government.

While the political situation has flavored my stay, it seems like it’s one of the few things that keeps life pumping. Amos and I are moving ahead quickly with our plans for our organization, which (late late late a few nights ago) we chose the name Baobab Branch. We’ll be renting our office next week, opening the library, beginning advertisements, and sending in our registration forms. This will keep us busy!

I’ve taken to running – I think the fact my general wardrobe is t-shirt, cloth shorts, and runners, it just comes naturally I’ve been going for jogs along the ‘in construction’ highway that runs parallel to the lake. You see the odd flying flamingo, and you can see the herds in the distance. The scenery adds some motivation to the jogs. I’m also joined along route by randoms – the odd teen thuggy on the side, the random militia, kids en route to class… the company is entertaining. With the punjabi iPod pumping in my ears, the dry dusty air, and the stares from the general public – it may get me actually addicted to running. A man this morning told me ‘you run it like beckham’. It probably should have translated to – ‘look, whitey wears shoes!’

what else what else … So in my Market Shopping I acquired a (gently used) Burberry London sweater for the running price of $1.20 – and from the look in the shop owners eye, she thought I was being ripped off. I blew $10 dollars and got myself a few outfits. This is why I can’t even bother with shopping in North America.

Well that’s all I have to paint from my past few days. Working slowly on my Kiswahili – I’m going to get a tutor. Still consuming copious amounts of cake and tonic water.

badai badai! (laterz)

Cam

Hello Chums,

 So I’m here in Kenya – sitting here in the cyber cafe in my yoga get-up (yes, it’s that toastily warm and sunny). The kids were all amazed that when I arrived I was ‘even whiter than before’! Come on tan!

 The trip so far has been great. Had a splendid layover in London, visiting my friend Sofia. In 6 hours we managed Buckingham Palace, Piccadilly Square, Big Ben, Parliament, Westminster, that river – Thames (is that the spelling), Trafalgar, some park, and a full English breakfast at some cute restaurant called Giraffe. How appropro, n’est pas?

 So, blah blah blah, bad movies on the plane; made it over to Kenya. Thoroughly wiped, but Amos met me at the airport. He’s the one I’m living with whilst here, and we’ve had a great time together so far. I can ashamedly admit we’re putting no attempt to rationing the movies I’ve brought, and we’ve skipped our way through a number.

 I suppose I should mention the political situation – no, things aren’t great in the country in general, but where I”m staying (in Nakuru; actually in a little cottage-esque suite just east of the south tip of Lake Nakuru with banana trees and irritating ibises as neighbours) the situation is fine. All elementary schools opened up today, after a week’s delay. Though protests are scheduled for later this week, so universities haven’t opened. And rumors are circulating that Uganda’s army is heading our way. So if you don’t hear from me, it’s because I”m shacking down at home watching movies and having a merry time, just not coming into town for internet.

 What else to talk about! Oh yeah – Pistis and Cmd Orphanage (right, I knew I was here for something…) Anyways everyone is great. There were a number of refugees camping out on the grounds last week, but they’re gone now. The kids are happy and healthy. I FINALLY got the chance to read them the book I wrote (about a mosquito that flies from Canada all the way to them in Kenya), and they liked it, which gave me the warm jollies for the day. There’s a new washroom facility on the grounds (oh so good!) We need to paint it, but then it’ll be open for operation.

 Amos and I are also moving ahead on the school/ to become college, we’re opening. We’ve had a few meetings discussing it, and hope to get some proper headway on it tonight (that’s right, self control and no movies!) All my books and luggage made it here no problem – except that I packed 2 t-shirts, so I’m going some open market used clothing shopping once I finish this post.

Amos and I are foraging ahead with our plans for opening the school / to become college. Tonight we’re going to hammer out a lot of stuff we need for foundation. We’re both pretty excited (school girl excited) about it all, and look forward to seeing where it’ll all go.

 That’s about it from here. Oh, I’ve picked my trip’s theme song: Jump by Madonna. Yes, it’s far too ‘guilty pleasure’ to count as anything but a song that’s been stuck in my head, but I’m loving it right now, and therefore Kenya 08 is Jump.

 I’ll sign off here. Cheers then,

Camesh

So folks!

8 days away until I’m back to Kenya. A country that promises dirty feet, overdose of goat’s meat, giddy children with runny noses, and a full hot sun all the livelong day, I’m excited – perhaps relieved – to be kicking off my snow boots for a new pair of dusty sandals!

While this trip is coming at an ideal time for me (pre- career, kids, mortgage) life in Kenya is a frenzy of harried anticipation and a bit of outlash towards government . With rigged elections finishing several days ago, returning cronie Kibaki to office instead of Odinga (who did receive majority), there’s some upheavals, riots, and whatnot scattered the country. BBC reports that these are in slum areas and on the coast predominantly. I’ll let everyone know now, that I won’t be in any areas where fighting has been, I won’t go if tensions heighten, and *trust me* I am more glued to Kenyan news right now than Kibaki himself

Anyways, aside the forenote, my excitement for this (my third trek to Kenya) has my heart pumping with the anticipatory nervousness of going. More than anything, I’m thrilled to see everyone again – yes, unashamedly, mostly the kids.
Okay – so this, my first blog is ending up a little boring. I think still being in Canada and just trying to figure this blog thing out I just wanted to drop a first quick note – respond to the freaked out emails I’m getting from people (love you all!); and paint out a list for those I haven’t properly explained what I’m going to be mucking about with this time.

So trip deets – living in Nakuru for 3 months with a local friend Amos Otieno. I think this means, I’ll be learning how to do charcoal cooking, and will really need to spruce up on my abilities to hand wash clothes.

Amidst the general run around, skipping competitions with the kids (which I’m not ashamed to say, I do win time to time), and a few days lounge in Mombassa, I have three projects for myself whilst there:

1) Alongside Amos, we are going to open an educational facility with vocational focus for those who can’t afford university, or need support in finishing high school, which we hope to develop into an accredited mid-level college and local microfinance office.

2) I want to teach a select handful of interested kids from CMD Orphanage how to write a book. I won’t give away my proposed synopses, but my goal is to have this book published and out for sale by June ’08, so you can find out then what up and coming youth authors and artists are brewing about East Africa. We’ll see!

3) For Student Project Africa Network (SPAN), I’m going to trek the country to personally meet all of the organizations and local members – mostly just so I can put a face to the names and emails. With the grassroots SPAN partners with, we hope to develop specific projects, so all interested and upcoming volunteers can know details of what’s going on in these local non-profits, and get the proper understand of what can & needs to be done. Plus this is a sour excuse for me to traipse the country.

Well, blah blah blah, I think this is enough to constitute a blog entry. And, if permitted, I’ll blame my technical inability and general blog inexperience, for any blandness of this one. But I’ll do my best to keep a proper blog while I’m over there, where I know the lack of sleep and general buzz of life will make my writing much more scattered, ineffectual, and (hopefully, then) more interesting. Much to come!

Badai rafikis, (later friends)

Cam