Clean Start for Water Day

The Water/Sanitation Program kicked off with a great round of training on the basics of water contamination, how it makes us sick and how we can prevent waterborne diseases by integrating simple practices into our daily routine. The theme was “It Begins with You”. To take this theme to the next level, I wondered if a good next step might be to encourage the Water/Sanitation Representatives (WatSan Reps) to put some of their good ideas into practice. I heard many of them in the field talk about the drainage ditches that need to get dug and the erosion protection that should be implemented to protect the springs where their families and neighbors are drawing drinking water from.

So, we launched an experiment on December 2- “Clean Start for Water Day”.

I know, I’m a little behind in posting. The idea was that the newly trained WatSan Reps would lead their Nuru groups in a special project at their local spring. We held a workshop and helped the watsan reps brainstorm ideas for possible projects. They each developed a project proposal and reviewed it together with Lucas and me. I was impressed with the outcome of the workshop; their ideas were well thought out and the reps were excited to get to work.

I was even more impressed with the turnout for Clean Start for Water Day. On December 2, in villages throughout Kuria, 173 people representing 20 Nuru groups worked hard at over 25 springs. The project managers that day were the the WatSan Reps and they led well!


Jake, Doug and Janine, joined Lucas and I for a tour of a few projects. When we arrived the WatSan Reps were so proud to show off their work. Many trimmed bushes and grasses to improve the flow of their water supply as well as the safety of the paths that lead to them. Others dug drainage ditches to prevent rainfall runoff (often rich with fertilizer from farms and fecal matter from animals and humans, especially where latrines aren’t available) from getting into their drinking water. Men, mamas and children working together with their hands, shovels, jembes (hoes), pangas (machetes), and homemade brooms.

I am so pleased with the results of our little experiment. Days later, people are still buzzing about their projects and when they see Lucas and me in the field they plead with us to come see the work they did on Clean Start for Water Day. And people are now asking us what’s next. It was a great note to end on before the holiday break. And, I love that the very first water projects were designed by WatSan Reps and implemented by them alongside their neighbors.

It was fun to share the day with the team. Here's a shot of us looking a little wild in the field.

Science Nerd

After loads of interviews, home visits and observations at over 40 springs, streams and rivers, where people collect drinking water, we’re now testing the water in the lab to figure out the level of contamination. Where, you might ask, could we perform such a feat in this forgotten corner of rural Kenya? Well, I’ve actually set up a lab in our house, complete with Petri dishes, reagents, forceps and an incubator. All those 8:00 am lab classes in college and my water quality work at my previous job are definitely paying off! The team laughs at (and celebrates) my science nerd ways…

Lucas and I have been revisiting all the locations where people told us that they are getting sick from drinking the water. One of our stops was the river that Chacha and his family use. He informed us that he has been sick for the past 3 years with ameobiasis (can you believe that- 3 years!), which brings on painful cramping and severe diarrhea and is caused by an invisible microorganism in the water.

Chacha admitted with some shame that when first diagnosed, he didn’t heed the doctor’s advice to take his medicine and boil his drinking water to kill the disease-causing microorganisms. However, the pain sent him back to the doctor in desperation, and he proudly reported that he has been faithfully taking his medicine and boiling the drinking water. His wife and children were also suffering from the disease, but now Chacha and his entire family are recovering rapidly. I was relieved to hear this, because in this part of the world, death is a real possibility for people with diarrhea.

Diarrhea is the #1 cause of death in the world.

90% of diarrhea deaths are from contaminated water, inadequate sanitation or insufficient hygiene.

So, Lucas filled a bottle up with Chacha’s river water, we tested in the lab, and sure enough, we found large amounts of bacteria in the water. Most waterborne diseases come from fecal matter (translation: poop), so we test for “fecal coliforms”. Prepping the samples for this important test takes quite a bit of effort and they must be incubated at a constant temperature for at least 14 hours.

We also test for other things like pH, which can give us clues about the general quality of the water. Those tests take just a couple minutes, due to the generous donation of a colorimeter from our partner LaMotte Testing. The great thing about the colorimeter is that it’s super easy to use and I’ve been able to train Lucas how to use it. That way he can help the community monitor the impacts of our projects long after I’m gone!

It’s all really nerdy stuff, but scientific results are important to verify what we’re hearing from the people and to get to the root cause of the problem. We use the test results to determine where in the community clean water sources are needed most. And, immediately, before we even have the money raised for much needed water projects, we can use the test results to target areas where more training is needed on life-saving practices that people can do in their homes, like boiling water or using chlorine (if they can afford it) to disinfect their water.

World Toilet Day

I'm a day late with this post, but no joke- November 19 is World Toilet Day! I was notified of this from my friends at Water Partners: "We celebrate World Toilet Day and the incredible value of the can. Call it what you will the pot, the loo, the throne, the latrine, the water closet, the bog [or here in Kenya, the choo]; it's one of the most important inventions in history. Why recognize World Toilet Day? Because the majority of illness in the world is caused by fecal matter. Because 2.5 billion people, 42 percent of the world's population, don't have access to proper sanitation. Because 1.2 billion people have no toilet, no hole in the ground, no pit latrine, nothing. And because 1.8 million children die each year from diarrhea alone 4,900 deaths each day."

These staggering statistics are part of my motivation for being here in Kenya. In the U.S. it sounds silly to celebrate our toilets; we flush and don't give it another thought. But here in Kuria, Kenya, a couple people have ventilated pit latrines, some have a hole in the ground and many have nothing at all. No toilets mean that feces ends up in drinking water and on dinner plates, and adults and children end up with nasty illnesses like typhoid, amoebiasis and diarrhea. Of the 40 drinking water collection points (springs and streams) I've visited here, I've gotten reports of people getting sick from drinking the water at 70% of those locations. 70%!

In the U.S. we leave it up to wastewater treatment plant to deal with our flushes and the water treatment plant clean our drinking water for us, but here these matters have to be dealt with at the household level. Good hygiene and knowledge about safe drinking water can be a matter of life and death...

I've learned that simple practices like washing hands with soap and water at critical times and boiling drinking water can dramatically reduce diseases. Unicef says using soap to wash hands, particularly after contact with excreta, can reduce diarrhoeal diseases by over 40% and respiratory infections by 30%. Can you believe that?

Stats like that get me excited and give me hope. I'm delighted to report that today we completed a 3-day training for 30 water/sanitation representatives, who are now community experts! They're now fully equipped and charged to train their families and neighbors in basic hygiene and household water treatment practices, like boiling water, which can eliminate all those microorganisms that are making them sick. I trained up Lucas and he taught each class using colorful posters developed by the Center for Affordable Water and Sanitation Technology. The do great work and provide water/sanitation training aids free of charge! We were even able to get the posters with Kiswahili text, which the reps really appreciated. I included the English language version of a couple of my favorites for you.

The reps ate the posters up. At one point, they asked me "Was that picture taken in Kuria? All of the things shown happen here. Which tribe is that?" That was a huge compliment, and it made me laugh, because the posters show cartoons not photographs. Another fun question: "Who is that guy (the water droplet guy with the thumbs down)?" Another rep responded, "He is the grandfather. He is stopping the contamination." Then next day I drew a picture of "babu maji" (water grandfather) on the chalkboard with a welcome message.

Empowerment is loads of fun. The reps were eager to learn and are excited to pass on their knowledge. I've already heard stories of reps teaching their children what they learned in class. After the reps give their families and their Nuru groups the water/sanitation training, about 1,800 people will be reached with these disease-preventing, life-saving messages. Now that's what I call an appropriate World Toilet Day celebration!

Living in Community

I live with my husband, my friend and colleague and my boss- under one roof. And, shall I add, under one ceiling. That’s right, our house isn’t finished and we don’t have ceilings in the rooms. We have walls dividing the rooms, but no ceilings. No matter where you are in the house, you can pretty much hear what’s going on in every room.

I’ll admit it, I’m an independent girl. I’m the kind of person who cannot relate at all with people who are afraid to go out to dinner alone, feel restless sitting quietly for long periods of time, and like to have constant noise in their lives. You see, I’m a total extrovert- a people person, but I love my alone time. And, I have the luxury of having an introverted husband. So, we built a very happy life for ourselves in Chicago complete with loads of quality community time and solid chunks of alone time- alone apart time. We loved it!

Life in Kenya is just a little bit different… For starters, we’re never alone. In the house, Jake, Janine, Doug and I are united by the lack of ceilings. Outside the house, we stick out like…well super white folk, and everyone wants to greet us (and we’re so grateful that we’re so kindly received here). And, for safety reasons, we don’t travel anywhere alone.

Last week, I had a moment. I felt desperate to get away- alone. I felt guilty about it at first, even a bit ashamed. You see,

I love my team, I love my husband, I love my job and I love the community we’re
working in. So, what was my problem?

Then I took a good bit of time to reflect, alone, in my room (I try to take a bit of time every day, but this particular occasion I sensed it was going to take awhile). I shut my bedroom door and popped in headphones to drown out the conversation in the house. And the craziest thing happened…it all started to make sense. If there’s a big tank within us that rises and falls with alone time, I came to the realization that mine was absolutely empty, and systems were shorting out because of it. I felt myself getting stressed out and impatient. And, the worst part was that I felt like it was inevitable that it stayed that way. But, then I realized that there was one huge flaw with my logic- it lacked creativity.

I took a good long time to journal and pray and sort things out a bit. Then, I shared it with Doug (ok, so it wasn’t all sorted out at that point…Doug helped tremendously. I have the best husband ever!). Later on I got up the courage to bring it to the team. They were so wonderful and so gracious. And, it turns out, that we’re all sort of struggling with similar things. It felt so refreshing to have such a great team, where we can have real chats like that, and we’re able to be open and catch things before they become major deals.

So, I’ve been getting creative lately. I carve out some time each morning where I shut the door and sit alone with my journal and stare out the window at the gorgeous green valley. I feel refreshed and focused afterwards (it’s easy to get overwhelmed with the huge scope of my job). And, Doug and I take walks together every couple days, even if it’s just to the market to buy tomatoes. We do that matter what, even when we’re busy. And I’m getting better at telling the team when I need some uninterrupted time. It’s helping. I feel so much better, so much freer and less wound up inside. I know, I’m slow, I should’ve noticed this all early. Before I left I predicted that this would happen. But, it snuck up on me.

Here’s to creativity and quality alone time even in a crowded place! I’m drinking it in, and it’s doing wonders for my soul! I’m doing great!

Bold Requests & Unsolicited Offers

This blog post comes at the request of my dear friend, co-worker and housemate, Janine (Nuru's Healthcare Program Manager). Apparently I've been "tagged" and it's now my turn to blog about "6 random things". So, here goes. Janine, I hope you read this!

Although they're random, they do sort of have a theme...As I've stated in previous posts, I've gotten a lot of bold requests. But, I've also gotten a lot of very interesting, very generous offers as well. My six:

1) Janine and I are at the butcher (translation: a tiny shack storefront with a couple animals on hooks and a very unsanitary looking scale) getting meat for the night, and a teenage guys rolls up behind up and asks me to buy him a piece of meat. A bold request. I turn him down.

2) The same guy gives up on us after about 6 tries and leaves. Then, he sneaks back up on us a minute later. He's eating a carrot and proceeds to hold it a couple inches from my mouth.

"Eat my carrot!"

he demands. A nice offer, but again, I turn him down.

3) I'm in the field one morning waiting next to a river for Lucas, my Kenyan counterpart, to arrive. He shows up right on time and seems to have picked up a friend along the way (who is, by the way, weilding a machete which is, by the way, totally normal). Although I didn't have my phone out, he let me know that he knew I had a phone and he also wanted one.

"You should buy me a phone. Because you have one, and I don't"

he requested. Wow, very bold. Again, denied.

5) Janine and I are walking down the main road into "town" to get a few things at the market. A man comes storming out of his house and runs up the hill to meet us. He is yelling but sounds kind of happy. When he gets closer, we hear what he says,

"I am sending my son to school to learn English so that he can marry an English woman! You must come and greet me in my home!"

He's ready for one of us to marry his son. Nope, I'm already happily married to Doug and Janine is...busy.

6) And my very favorite...I'm walking back from our very first water/sanitation representatives meeting (over 30 reps showed up!) and I bump into a man named Richard who wants to greet me. He has a lot to say about wanting me to test his well, Obama's joyous victory, and wanting me to permantly move to Kuria. For real! He said,

"I will give you a plot of land for free so that you and your
husband can build a home and live in Kuria forever."

Amazing offer. I explain to Richard that Doug and I are pretty much homeless and might never own a home (this is amazing to people here, they always assume we have some land and a home). But, of course I thanked him for his very generous offer.

There you have it. Six random things.

And now for the tagging....I choose Heidi Griepp, Seren Frost, Tara and Billy (faithful commenters, I love hearing from you!), Jake, and Riley. See what you can come up with!

The "Rules":

1. Post the rules on your blog

2. Write 6 random things about yourself

3. Tag 6 people at the end of your post
4. If you're tagged, DO IT and pass on the tag

My First Hire

Big news in the water/sanitation program-I made my first hire! Lucas is now the water/sanitation community development committee (CDC) representative. I'm really excited about Lucas officially being part of the team!

(You can read about details on how the CDC works on our website http://www.nuruinternational.org/).

For those of you who have been following, you know that Lucas has been a key volunteer since day 1, helping Janine with health care stuff me with the water/sanitation program, and that over the past month, Lucas and I have walked many, many miles together. If you're new to Safari Magi: Lucas is a kind, hard-working, well respected (he was a top pick for sub-chief, the second layer of local leadership here), well known (everyone we pass knows his name and is always delighted to see him) family man (he has a wife and 2 very smart daughters) with a background in community health and nursing.

Lucas was born and raised in Kuria. When I asked how long he thought he'd be in Kuria, he simply responded,

"This is my home."

As in, Are you kidding me, Nicole, I'm here for good. I needed to ask the question, and his answer was exactly what I was looking for.

Sidenote: Lucas also happens to be extraordinarily poor.

Although Lucas volunteers at a school and very other places in the community, it's hard to find paying work and get food on the table every night. And this is a smart, capable, very motivated guy we're talking about. Last week, he had no idea how he was going to pay for his daughters' school fees. Just in time (the kids get yanked from school if the fees aren't paid) he was able to pay it, because of his new job with Nuru.

Anyways, although Lucas doesn't currently know all the ins and outs of water resources (I'm training him), he has managed to lead me to over 50 water collection points (this is a huge area!) with no map. And, very impressively, he never made a mistake and brought me to the same place twice. The man knows his community. And his health and sanitation training is a key element that perfectly fills out my knowledge gaps. We're a great team!

As I write this, Lucas is out in the field getting his feet wet (couldn't resist) with the GPS unit, completing the data collection task that we started together. He's also gathering critical information on local supplies for potential solutions this week. This is fantastic, because it frees me up to manage the program and do a bit of engineering. And, he'll be the instructor for our upcoming water/sanitation class, where 50 water/sanitation representatives will be trained in the basic principles and prevention. These reps will then go back and train their Nuru groups of about 10 people. The 10 people will then share their knowledge with their families...ultimately impacting around 2,000 Kurians.

Lucas taking a rare break. We waited out the rain one day with this family and they insisted on serving us sweet potatoes and chai.

This empowerment stuff is thrilling! I am grateful to be actually doing it and not just talking about it. Lucas will be here when we leave along with the rest of the CDC, and that gets me excited!

Hapana Means No, Pole Means Sorry

I am kindly greeted by everyone I meet, but most days I also receive a couple requests, some are bold and some are more shy.

Sitting barefoot in the dirt, Caroline is taking a quick water break at the spring. She came from working on the shamba (farm), and she graciously answers a few questions about the water for me. We become friends and when I visit her again a few days later she slips into our conversation:

“No one in my family has shoes, can you buy me some shoes?"

Speaking to a mother, who told me (in response to one of my sanitation questions) that she doesn’t wash her hands with soap because she can’t afford soap. With her two children in view, one playing with a broken knife and the other sucking on a battery (I kid you not…I think I’ve seen two toys total in the community I’m working) I get the request:

“Can you buy my children some storybooks?”

Walking around with my backpack doing field work next to a child carrying a heavy load on their head, I hear:

“Can you give me that bag?”

Following a sweet greeting from children who are overjoyed and surprised to see us in their community:

“Give me sweets!”

“Give me money!”

The last request is quite shocking and pretty disturbing, the first time you hear it from a 3 year old. But, the others, like the one for shoes and storybooks…Honestly, there are times when I just want to buy Caroline and her entire family shoes and order a huge shipment of storybooks and soap, for crying out loud. The truth is I could afford it.

Can you imagine working on the farm all day or walking a mile to school on a rocky dirt road barefoot?

But, we’ve committed as a team not to do handouts. The answer is always the same,

“Hapana, pole” (no, sorry).

It kills me to say it sometimes. I just want to give the kid my backpack and my lunch and water inside. I know he needs it more than I do. But, we don’t do handouts. And for a very good reason: because they don’t last. They provide a temporary fix, but the shoes will break and my friend Caroline will not be able to buy replacements for her and the kids. Nothing will have changed.

Instead, we’ve decided to focus on bringing lasting solutions to the community, to help them help lift themselves out of poverty. Like maize seed and fertilizer loans for Caroline, so that her family can sell the surplus in the market, pay the loan back, save some money to buy seed and fertilizer next harvest and still have some left over to pay for school fees, medical fees, soap and shoes for the family. And it’s better if she is able to buy what she needs for her family, I explain to her. And, she looks up at me, beaming,

“Yes, it will be better. Asante sana (thank you very much)!”

I’m glad we’re about lasting solutions and not temporary fixes. But, I won't lie to you, there are moments when my heart breaks as I look into the eyes of a child who doesn’t understand all of this, but is just hoping to bring something home to their starving family, once again and respond,

“Hapana, pole.”

Update on Gluten Girl

I feel kind of shallow writing about this topic, but I will anyway. This one goes out to all of you whom I’ve bored with stories of my trials and tribulations with gluten. A few of you have inquired about it, especially after seeing my birthday "cake" (see previous post).

I’ve had a long treacherous battle with food, or should I say my stomach has. My mouth loves food. For years I’ve been poked, prodded, medicated and thoroughly frustrated trying the figure out exactly what my body requires and why it sometimes seems to be entirely different from all the other bodies on this planet. About a year ago I came to the realization that I wasn’t doing too well with gluten, which happens to be a prominent player in every American and European meal. Gluten is in bread, pasta, and most spices not to mention cookies, cakes, and beer…basically all the good stuff. When I ate it I enjoyed every bite, but soon after I experienced very severe punishment.

So, I quit. I gave up the gluten. It was amazing, because after that I felt great- no daily stomach pains and other delights. I got the rhythm down quickly- replace the gluten with potatoes, corn and rice. No big deal, I wasn’t a huge bread and pasta person anyways.

One of my hilarious gluten-free meals. It takes a ton of creativity to eat this way.

And then I arrived in Europe. How was I supposed to not eat crepes in Paris, pasta in Italy and drink beer in Belgium? So, I started cheating. Just a little a first- a crepe here and there, but then of course I had to try the French cheeses and French cheeses are so good with a fresh baguette…

My Danish friend Tiuri, who loves his bread with chocolate sprinkles- loaded with gluten. It really is in all the good stuff!

And then the craziest thing happened. I didn’t get sick! I was ready for it too. I geared up with special pills and expected the big energy zap and the lengthy bathroom visits. But, I was fine.
I’m not sure if you believe in miracles. Maybe I missed something; maybe it was something else that was causing me so much pain.

I don’t feel the need to spend another moment digging up my gastro/gluten wiki files to try to get to the bottom of this. I’m just grateful. And perfect timing, because if I couldn’t eat gluten now I’d definitely go hungry a lot of the time. No salads or tacos anywhere to be found here in rural Kenya.

Doug, my husband, watches me in disbelief- we eat spaghetti a couple nights a week and I eat sandwiches nearly every day...things that would've made me so sick before. He jokes that I'm healthier here than I was at home. It's true! Those of you who knew my food issues know that this is cause for celebration. So, when I return to the States, bring on the good stuff!

A Day in My Life

We’ve been in Kenya for about a month now. I’ve been working in the field for most of that time. Right now, I’m collecting baseline information- the current conditions of water and sanitation in the community. This is what a typical day has been like for me:

6:30 a.m. We wake up to the rooster crowing (oh wait, he crows pretty much all day). Really, we use the alarm on our watch. I put on my flip flops, roll my pant legs up and head for the choo (toilet) out back. The squat provides a great morning thigh workout. There’s a primary school right across from us, so there’s always a group of school kids excited to greet me at the fence.

6:35 a.m. I throw on the propane and boil a kettle of water. It’s bucket bath time. I wait for the whistle and then mix the hot water with a few scoops of water from the cistern. Then, I head out back to the “bathroom”, four walls and a ceiling of concrete with a drain, one door down from the squatty potty. I suds up and pour a few scoops of water over my head. All clean! Then, I attempt to towel off and get back into my clothes without slipping (not easy).

7:00 a.m. I make my breakfast of instant oatmeal, Nescafe, juice and a super gross pre-natal vitamin (they say it’s good to take in child bearing years, but it makes me gag so I have to bite it up into about 5 parts to get it down). I take it to my small desk (we got tables!) in my bedroom. I look out over green rolling hills dotted with banana trees and rows of crops. I take some time to read some scripture, journal and reflect on what’s in my heart- it centers me. Then, I get in a bit of “office” work in before I leave for the field.

8:30 a.m. After a full application of sunscreen, I lace up the waterproof shoes, load up my bag with my GPS, a camera, a tiny notebook , a bottle of water, some toilet paper (just in case), and two PB&J sandwiches (one for me and one for Lucas). I (usually joined by Janine, she’s the health care program manager) take a walk down the pot-holed road and meet Peter, our very prompt enthusiastic boda boda (motorbike) driver at the end. We jump on the back of the bike and fly through valleys and hills decorated with rock outcroppings and maize fields (it really is a beautiful place), past road blocks, cattle, and crowds of school kids.

9:00 a.m. We arrive in Nyametaboro, and I meet Lucas, the guy we’re interviewing to be my local counterpart (I'll let him know he’s got the job on Monday). We set off together on a journey into the depths of the community, on a hunt for water sources. We climb hills, jump streams, visit homes, investigate springs, survey those fetching water and speak to principals and teachers at schools. Lucas is greeted by everyone he passes, and he knows every inch of the community.

Together, we get stuck in the mud, stopped by herds of cattle and followed by huge crowds of curious children yelling with glee, “Mzungu (white person), how are you?” Some are so amazed and shy, they just cover their faces (many have never seen a white person before, at least not close up), and others politely greet me, “Shikamoo” (respectful greeting, used for elders). The adults always want to greet us and thank me for being there and welcome me (often into their home for a meal, which I often have to politely decline in order to get some work done).

Lucas and I walk for miles and never sit down or take breaks, except on the bank of a stream or at a rock at a spring to hang out with the ladies (and girls) getting information about the water from the people about the water they’re using and if it’s making them sick, etc.

4:30 p.m. There is so much ground to cover, so much to see and learn, and by the end of the day, I’m sweaty, nearly sun burnt and very thirsty. I say good-bye to my rafiki (friend) Lucas, Janine and I reunite, and we ride home together on the boda boda debriefing each other on all that we’ve learned...

5:00 p.m. …but, first we have to stop at the market. Janine and I are responsible for acquiring the food for the house. I’m proud to say that we’ve mastered this task. It took a few weeks, but we’re there. We know which butcher has halfway decent meat and we’ve nearly managed to communicate that we want good soft meat with no fat (probably an odd request). We know the price of every fruit and vegetable and who sells bread and eggs (they give you a bag of eggs, carton not included) and where to find the good pineapples.

6:00 p.m. Jake likes us to be back by 6, before dark. We deliver the goods and I just can’t wait to wash my face and hands, especially after carrying home a bag of meat and receiving change from a butcher who definitely isn’t wearing gloves. Then, I attempt to process the data I collected during the day (using Google Earth, spread sheets, and Word docs and other nerdy things) and figure out how it will shape the rest of my week and the water/sanitation program.

7:00 p.m. The guys have dinner ready for us. We eat together as a family. Usually ugali (a Kenyan staple made from maize flower, Doug’s a pro at making it!) and beef stew (Jake is the master chef!).

7:30 p.m. Cleanup time. I’m the sanitation nazi, as Jake calls me. I’m in charge of general order and cleanliness of the house and all wipe downs of the dining table (really our cocktail table), the stove (2-burner stovetop powered by a big propane tank) and any other area that could attract bugs. Those of you who know me well know that I enjoy this job. I love saving my dear teammates/friends from germs (I think I’m in the right line of work!).

8:00 p.m. I squeeze in a bit more “office work” - tighten up my plans for the next day and continue to process the day I just had, as well as continue to plan the entire water/sanitation program, prepare my water quality testing equipment, keep up on my research, answer emails, etc.

9:00 p.m. We fire up the lantern (to avoid the dive-bombing bugs, see previous post for details), cover ourselves in bugspray, and settle in on the couch for our nightly wind-down tradition of watching old episodes of West Wing, a very smart TV show whose characters we really feel like we’re friends with. It’s funny, because I never watched TV at home, but it really does help us wind-down. It’s a different deal when your life and work are so intertwined. Plus, it’s a fun escape to the western world for 40 minutes.

10:30 p.m. Maybe a bit more work, maybe not. Then, we wash up in the yard. It’s funny, if it’s rainy, we actually brush our teeth in rain coats. Notice that in the photo Janine is holding floss (not sold here, so we savor every inch), you might have to squint to see it. We make one last choo stop and tuck our mosquito nets tightly under our mattresses (if you could call them that) and crash.

We sleep hard and get up ready to do it again. The hardest part is when you have to go to the bathroom in the middle of night. Aside from that, I love this job!

2 Years & 50 Cows

My blog posts have been really long, too long I think. So here are a couple short stories for you:

Today I was working in the field, locating water sources, where woman walk great distances to fetch drinking water for their families. We were climbing a pretty steep hill when it started raining, sprinkling at first and then it really started coming down. "What should we do?" I asked my Kenyan counterpart, named Lucas. "Hmmm," he said looking around (and then he suddenly spotted an older woman with a huge smile on her face coming from her hut), "We shall go to Mama Councillor's house!" And just like that we were welcomed in - "Caribou!" Mama shouted with glee. Which means, "You are welcome to come into my home!" So we went in to take cover from the rain. Mama is an older woman, but Lucas informed me that she is running for councillor, a political position in Kenya. Go, Mama Councillor!

Mama Councillor

She fed us bananas and we had a great conversation. She spoke really good English, which is rare for an older woman. And then she announced to me, "I want to learn English! I REALLY want to learn English!" I offered to teach her a bit right then. "What do you want to learn, I can teach you." I offered. She answered, "The Bible!" Errr...so so sweet, but kind of a huge undertaking. I was touched. And then she emphatically declared, "I shall learn English for two years, and then I shall die!" What?! Did she seriously just say that? I asked Lucas for a translation/clarification. Yep, she meant it. She wants to learn English, and then feels like she'd be ready to go home to Jesus.

Lucas. We're currently interviewing him for a position as my local counterpart. He's a kind-hearted, well respected, hardworking family man. We've walked many, many miles together.

And, one more...

I was waiting for a big community meeting that we (Nuru) were hosting to begin (which 140 people turned out for, which was so great!). I hung out with Eunice, my translator, and a few older mamas. One took a particular interest in me. She had the stretched earlobes, super long ones and she was rocking them for sure. We chatted and laughed together and Eunice helped make sense of it all.

At one point it came out that I was married. The XL earlobe mama looked pretty angry and starting going on some kind of a tirade. A few minutes in, I asked Eunice what she was saying. "She is very angry that you are married, Nicole. She would've paid many cows for you for (to marry) her son." What?! It turns out that this woman with her large lobes went for 50 cows, in part due to the large lobes, which are super attractive, my mama explained to me, while dancing. 50 cows?! Apparently now the dowry is about 6-10 cows, but even back in the day 50 was pretty hefty.

She looks angry, but I took this while she

was concentrating on what Jake was

saying at the meeting. Notice those lobes!

Doug laughed pretty hard when I came home and shared that one. His response: "You gotta blog about that!"

So, there is definitely a lot of hard stuff going on around us, but we're laughing too. The Kurians are definitely a laughing, smiling people.

Rafiki Means Friend

Eunice is my translator. She accompanies me on treks to the springs, streams and homes of Nyametaboro and Nyangiti (the “sublocations” of Kenya where the Nuru pilot project is taking place) to fill in the gaps of my limited Kiswahili and Kikurian (a local language, I haven’t even mastered the greetings yet). We investigate where the women and girls are fetching water for their families and if it’s making them sick.

Eunice is beautiful, courageous, incredibly intelligent and very generous. She had a chicken slaughtered for me for a special lunch the very first time I visited her home. Eunice has taught me a lot- about water and sanitation in her community, but also about what it means to be a rafiki (Kiswahili word meaning “friend”).

Eunice preparing the chicken that was slaughtered moments prior. Note the feathers in the pot, top left.

Eunice and I have already spent quite a bit of time together, walking the hills and fields in search of water and the people who consume it. One day as we sat on the bank of a river, she taught me how to eat sugar cane. As I slowly peeled away the thick green stuff attempting to reach the sugary inside, she shared her story with me.

Right- the original sugar cane, cut right off the tree. Left- the sugary inside that you chew on and spit out. It definitely took me ten times longer than Eunice to peel (with my teeth) and I definitely had a very sticky face afterwards.

She graduated from college and went to work as a school teacher. She left teaching at her husband’s request, because he needed her to help him start a business. After she got the business up and running, he decided he was done with her and took another wife. Soon after that, her daughter (one of her five kids) decided to get married and failed to ask for her parents’ permission (a huge disgrace in their culture). Eunice did not disown her daughter as her husband demanded and did himself. So, he kicked her out of the house and said, “Out! Go take care of the children!” Eunice had to build a new house for herself with her own money next door (the way family land works, there’s really nowhere else to go). He proceeded to spread lies about Eunice. He told everyone she was a bad wife, a terrible cook …

I asked her if he ever hurt her. She silently lifted her skirt up to reveal a 4-inch scar on her muscular calf. “He did it with a knife,” she whispered to me and looked around to make sure no one else saw or heard. I was heartbroken for her. I told her she was strong. “Why would such a smart, capable woman ever marry such a monster?” I wondered. She explained to me that there is tremendous pressure to marry young. Why? Dowry. Your family cashes you in for about 10 cows, and in a community that is literally starving, that’s great motivation to find your daughter a mate.

“Why should I be sad?” Eunice said proudly afterwards, “It is good. I am alone, but I do what I want.” Then, after a pause she added, “I won’t make my children marry young. I will do everything I can to help them have a better life.”

To give them choices, she means. Choices she didn’t have.

Eunice works the shamba (“farm”) every day, pulling weeds, tilling soil and planting seeds by hand. She fetches the water, cooks, cleans, manages the animals, and takes care of the children. She sold two cows and a house to send her son to college. She has very little, but she takes great care of everything she has and she greets everyone who crosses her path with a smile and Habari? (“How are you?”). And she always, always manages to make time for me.

During one of our adventures together in the field, we ended up at her friend, Robi’s home. Robi is probably about 50 years old, she has a sweet smile, very short gray/black hair and long earlobes that the older Kurian women proudly wear (in an old tradition of stretching the earlobes dramatically that ended in the 1960s, the long lobes are a symbol of beauty). We asked Robi to show us the spring where she fetches water. She ran in the house to grab a bucket, as to not waste the trip, and Eunice whispered to me, “She’s very humble. I will assist her, because she’s very sick.” I inquired about the reason before the woman returned. “She’s very weak. Her husband beat her.”

Part of me started screaming inside. Who could ever harm these selfless women who devote every waking moment tirelessly laboring so that their families can eat, drink and bathe every day? It just kills me. I can’t imagine the depth of the wounds of these women, beaten by the very man you serve daily and have literally laid down your life for. I wondered if a special bond exists between Eunice and Robi because of their shared pain. In a low, slow breath to fight back tears, I uttered a silent prayer for them both. I fantasized about them both experiencing healing through counseling- hearing that they are not to blame and through friendship- breaking the silence and supporting one another. Maybe they have such conversations, in whispers at the spring where there are no men to be found… I pray that they do.

The beauty of a rafiki carrying her friend’s bucket up the steep slope to her home moved me to tears, unable to fight them back this time. I reached the top of the hill, sweat pouring down, a mere jug in my hand, and watched Eunice approach balancing a dripping five-gallon bucket on her head. With Robi still a good distance behind us, Eunice started laughing, “I’m tired.”

Eunice inspires me. Despite all that she lacks, she reaches out; she digs deep and gives all that she has. I want to live my life like my rafiki, Eunice, who is literally laying her life down for her friends and her family, and for me.

And it gets me even more excited about the work we're doing- together with the community. It is going to give people like Eunice and Robi and their families more choices. The agriculture program alone is going increase their crop yields, and allow them to earn a bit of money to save and reinvest in fertilizer and seed for the next harvest...a step toward escaping the poverty trap. And the water/sanitation program I'm running will provide lasting solutions that reduce waterborne diseases and give these women back some of their precious time. And then there's the health care, education and small business programs...


There really is a lot to be hopeful about. It's intense at times, but I really do love my job!

My Birthday and Kiswahili Kenyan-Style

I had a sweet birthday! Janine, Jake and Doug took me out to the Border Point Hotel for dinner. Philip joined us too. We had a couple drinks, played Scrabble (love it, nerd style!) and had a delicious dinner approximately 1.5 hours after we ordered.

It was a hilarious and fun night. Janine ordered tilapia and they brought out a full fish roasted, eyes and all. She said it was pretty tasty. The rest of us got a beef dish with chips (French fries), and it was actually pretty tender and had some good spice on it. We had a really great time. It was good to get out of the house, take a break, laugh together, and eat something other than ugali and beef stew (although Jake and Doug make a mean meal). It’s really a joy to be part of such a great team. These guys aren't just co-workers but good friends and family even!

Janine and Jake even paid for Doug and me to stay the night at the hotel, which was a wonderful surprise. The house we’re living in temporarily, until construction on the Nuru house is complete, isn’t quite finished and doesn’t have ceilings. Also, although we love our bucket baths, a hot shower was delightful! Time alone together was really a gift for Doug and I. We enjoyed every moment!

At dinner, I got a chance to check in with Philip on a few Kiswahili phrases. We had a Kiswahili class during Nuru training in Palo Alto, I managed to get through 9 of the 10 Pimsleur language lessons during our long train rides through Europe, and I’ve been trying to use all I know and pick up a phrase or two every day. I really thought I was doing ok. Come to find out, the words I’ve been using for “sir” and “miss” aren’t exactly the best choices. Kiswahili will be in italics and English in quotes, just to keep it straight…

So, just I’ve been walking through the market saying Asante, bibi (“thank you, miss”) to young women who don’t seem to have kids yet (if they did, I’d use mama) and Samahani, bwana (“excuse me, sir”) to men just as my trusty Pimsleur lessons taught me. It turns out that bibi is used for old women and bwana translates as “husband” or “lord”. What?! So, I’ve probably offended a lot of women in the market and flattered a few men. Oops! They have been gracious though to say the least, loving every line that we attempt in Kiswahili, so thrilled that we’re actually trying. Philip set me straight (maybe Pimsleur was teaching me Kiswahili Tanzania-style or old school Kenyan-style)- there’s really no need to use “sir” or “miss” like we do in the U.S. (example: “Excuse me, sir”, “Thank you, miss.”).

Yet another lesson learned after the fact... My goal for this week- skip bibi and reserve bwana for Doug.

Solidarity

Over the past couple weeks I’ve had the absolute joy of spending some quality time with the Kurian people, who have warmly welcomed me, opened up their homes to me, cooked for me (or begged me to let them), and kindly answered my million strange questions about magi na choo (water and sanitation). The most generous has been my translator, Eunice, who has made it possible for me to navigate conversations beyond the few lines of Kiswahili I know. I’ll definitely write more on Eunice later- her story is heartbreaking and inspiring. For now, a few reflections on water and sanitation here.

My biggest observation so far is this: water and sanitation is hard work here!

You might wonder like I did, “What’s the big deal- wash your hands often, boil your water. Simple stuff; no problem. Right?”

But, imagine that you have no toilet- only a pit in the backyard with four walls around it; and you have no sink, no running water, no bathtub and no tables. I know, it might be hard to imagine living with such conditions, but I get it (at least a bit), because this is my life too now.

The very nice choo in our backyard that we are using. It's a ventilated pit latrine. That's Mama Chacha, who helped us move into our temporary home (the Nuru house is still under construction).

A latrine in Nyemataburu. Just a hole in the ground with wood placed around the hole and maize husk walls.

So, you go out back and use the choo (toilet). Maybe you have toilet paper and a cloth covering the doorway for privacy, but probably not (we have tp and a door on our choo, but most here do not). You finish your business and then you have to come in the house to fill a basin with water from the cistern, grab pitcher and some soap, and lather up and rinse (which isn’t the easiest thing to do one hand at a time unless you have another person around or unless you double dip, which of course re-introduces the germs). Then, you have to get rid of that water you just dirtied up with invisible germs, and of course you had to collect it in the first place (from the well down the road or out in the backyard if you’re really luck). And you don’t own towels, so you just drip dry.

Not so easy or quick. So what do you do? Maybe it’s too much trouble to spend the few minutes it takes to do that routine or maybe more water used means more trips to the well, so you skip the hand-washing sometimes. Honestly, I’m often tempted to skip the basin routine myself (and I’m grateful that we have hand sanitizer around the house, but they definitely don’t sell that at the market here).

After all this work going to the bathroom and cleaning yourself up afterwards, you’re thirsty. It shouldn’t be a big deal to get yourself a cup of cold, clean water, right? First, you have to walk to the spring. Then, you scoop as much water as you can carry on your head into a bucket.

A woman I met at the spring. She does this five times a day.

You get the water home and it has all kinds of things floating it in, like dirt and even worms. So, you have to get that water into a kettle and over a fire to boil it to kill the gross stuff. But, now you have super hot water and that’s not too tasty, so you have to cool it down, which takes time. And after that, you still have a few floaties left, so you have to run it through a cloth to catch the gross stuff. Then, you have to be sure to wash that cloth with detergent so it’s clean for next time and doesn’t contaminate the rest of your dirty laundry. So, after the long walk, the boil, the cool and the cloth you have yourself a lukewarm (because you definitely don’t have a fridge) cup of water. All that to fend off the myriad of waterborne diseases ready to plague you and your family if even one step is skipped.

This is actually a decent representation of our daily routine (the Nuru team). But fortunately, the spring by our place is only a few minutes away (although it’s at the bottom of a pretty good-sized hill) and we could afford to buy a ceramic water filter (so we can forgo the cloth regime) and a 2-burner gas “stove” (that sits on the ground because we don’t have tables yet). Even with such luxuries, getting a clean cup of water is even quite a task for us (and it’s lukewarm, because we don’t have a fridge). So, I now understand why some in the community don’t bother to boil their water.

Janine, my co-worker, and I joke around that after getting water, shopping (a whole other adventure that will probably become its own post), cooking, going to the bathroom and cleaning it all up, it’s bedtime. Not to mention the kids, the shamba (your farm), the animals and a social life. The burden of most of these jobs falls on women (and girls). I’m really grateful that we share household chores around here. But, when we tell people that Jake fetches the water and the guys do the cooking, they laugh in disbelief. (Janine and I take care of cleanup and shopping, another crazy post-worthy adventure).

I’m promise I’m not complaining at all. I’m actually quite grateful to have this opportunity to live in solidarity with the extremely poor (and we have it much, much better than they do, believe me). It helps me frame the water/sanitation program I’m in charge of developing and get realistic ideas about might work to improve conditions here.

So, today, when you wash your hands in your bathroom sink and get a cup of cold water from the tap, think of me. But, more importantly, think of the Kurian people who would cry tears of joy if they had such luxuries. Maybe even send up a quick prayer or thought for us, as we learn together…how to help the Kurian people of Nyametaburu lift themselves out of the extreme poverty.

Beware of the Bird Moths!

If you're grossed out by bugs, you might want to skip this one.

Every night when it gets dark, the bugs start their day. They come out in full force- mosquitoes, spiders (black widows even), crickets with long whiskers, hornet-ish guys, and what we call “bird-moths” (these are huge moths that are definitely close cousins to birds). A spritz of deet (and of course mosquito nets on the beds) takes care of the mosquitoes, which are more so just annoying and surprisingly the least of our concerns. The spiders and crickets have taken a liking to our toilet, which is located in our backyard, which is inconvenient to observe while you’re vulnerably squatting over a hole in the ground. But we’ve been able to work around them or do away with them (it’s a team effort) when we need to.

It’s actually the bird moths and their hornet-like friends that cause the most concern at night. They literally dive-bomb us! They start out at the fluorescent light hanging above, crash head on into it and then fall straight down onto our heads. And if we’re using computers, forget it. They can’t get enough of the screen. It’s funny at first, but it’s kind of unsettling after a couple minutes- they’re hit your arms, your hair, your ears, and I’ve even watched them try to slide in between the keys on my keyboard.

So, we type swiftly and run to shut off the light. That’s when the good ole lantern comes out. Remember the Coleman-style kind from camping? It’s great and it’s bright! The only problem is the wick, which sometimes mysteriously burns up rapidly (I swear the directions are written incorrectly). It’s ok now, though, we’ve mastered the lantern (after a few smoke-outs). No more dive-bombers… at least until tomorrow night.

Safari Means Journey, Maji Means Water

When people asked me about my hopes and dream, I was always the one with the long, complicated answer. Sometimes it felt like a curse. Why couldn’t I just go to college, get a good job, get married, have kids and be happy with a normal life? Although that sounds good from time to time, and I may live that life someday, I have never wanted it. Actually, I felt that a bad person admitting it, but the idea sounded like prison to me.

Sidenote: This is by no means a judgment on anyone else’s lifestyle, just an honest confession about the winding journey of discovering who I am. Just had to get that out there…

Only until I visited Africa in 2004- and played duck-duck-goose with children with swollen bellies whose parents can’t afford $20/year school fees, laid down on a mat alongside a woman dying of AIDS and witnessed firsthand the daylong task of water collection- did I realize the magnitude of extreme poverty. These are real people who are literally dying every day because they don’t have food to eat or water to drink and so they do (knowingly or not) what it takes to stop the hunger pangs- eat unsavory morsels, drink dirty water. Seeing all of this broke my heart, made me angry, and changed the way I spent my money and my free time.

But, I also witnessed what happens when water is safe, nearby and clean. A few links on the poverty trap chain are broken- girls get to go to school, women can earn desperately needed income and explore their passions, parents stay around long enough to see their kids grow up, and the whole family takes less sick days.

I realized that there is no real reason that I wasn’t born into extreme poverty- bound to carry water all day instead of go to school, forced to marry young to earn my family a dowry boost, unable to get an education and pursue my dreams. I don’t know how it all works, but I don’t recall anyone asking me my birthplace preference. I do know that if they had I surely would’ve chosen a place with better weather than the Midwest. For some reason though, I had it better. We didn’t have a lot growing up, but I had a chance.

I’m a water resources engineer, and I spent a few years in the rigorous world of environmental consulting working to bring grade B water up to grade A water in the U.S. On the side I partnered with a few humanitarian organizations that I admired, giving as much as I could. But, I started thinking it was time for me to make a full time contribution toward getting life-threatening water up to a passing grade (which 30% of Africans are literally dying for).

This stuff kept me up at night and caused me to get exceedingly unsatisfied at work (which was depressing and quite confusing at first, because I’m normally highly motivated). But to be honest, there were moments when I felt extraordinarily inadequate. I wondered if I was crazy or even arrogant to think that I could actually make a difference, but a single image, permanently cemented in my mind continued to bring me hope and stir up an unsettling sense of urgency within me.

Day after day, I’d sit in my comfortable chair in my air conditioned office working long hours in a challenging job that I truly enjoyed with honoring responsibility, great co-workers and constant opportunities for advancement, and I’d glance over at a photograph of children I met during a trip to Africa in 2004. In the photo, one girl is carrying her baby sister on her back, one boy is wearing a superman shirt, they are all wearing torn clothes, their bellies are swollen dramatically, they’re covered in dirt, and flies are buzzing in their hair, but they were absolutely beaming because someone was paying attention to them. They are the orphans, forgotten ones. But, I couldn’t forget them. I knew I had to return to Africa. I know that some people don’t want to go or cannot to Africa, but I simply couldn’t not go. I was just waiting (impatiently) for the right time.

My world and a humanitarian organization called Nuru International collided early in 2008, and I was thrilled when I was offered my dream job a few months later. I now find myself quite far from life as I knew it in Chicago. I’m living in the lush, green rolling hills of southwestern Kenya hundreds of miles down a pot holed dusty road from any real city where the Kuria tribe lives, so deep into the country that government officials and NGOs rarely visit. The Kuria tribe living in the Nyametaburu (pronounced just like it’s spelled, try it Ny-am-a-ta-boo-roo) district is largely forgotten. And that is why we’ve come here- to listen to the people’s needs, to work together to come up with solutions that last, to empower the community to lift themselves out of poverty. I am in charge of the water/sanitation program, and when I introduced myself to the Kuria tribe and their chief, I heard the interpreter translate my title as magi na choo (Kiswahili meaning “water and toilet”). And that’s pretty much sums it up. I’m the water and toilet person- very glamorous.

You might wonder if my stories will be all about serious and nerdy engineering work, but thus far my Maji Safari has also been a little strange and a lot hilarious, like-

• riding down a very steep potholed road on a motorcycle with 3 people trying to dodge cows who aren’t in a hurry to move,
• unknowingly spitting a mouthful of toothpaste on someone’s vegetable garden,
• nearly falling into a well (I definitely recommend tying the rope to the side first),
• experiencing an earthquake that no one seemed to be phased by,
• getting the lantern ready with kerosene and wick for the daily power outages (it’s like camping),
• hearing that my co-worker got struck by lightning (he’s ok),
• having an audience of 10 children every time you visit the restroom,
• carrying eggs home in a bag (cartons aren’t included),
• and slipping on a pile of cow manure and then walking through an ant parade (we like to call that "poop n ants").

It’s been a wild ride so far, and I can’t wait to see what will come of this adventure. I still feel inadequate at times, but I am certain that I need to be here and give it my best shot, and I know that I’m not alone. And somehow that’s enough right now.

This is my Safari Maji...