Shalome

How do I summarize a packed-full week in Israel? Focusing on of the historical and holy sights I visited seems somehow inappropriate considering hundreds of civilians who are currently being bombed in Gaza.
But since I’m one of the lucky ones who gets to visit both Israel and Palestine as a tourist, let me try to share a little bit of what I saw and did. I spent the week with my dear friend Liora and her partner, who not only acted as superb tour guides, taking me to Haifa, Jerusalem and the Dead Sea (as well as hosting a fabulous Christmas dinner), but also provided a constant analysis of the current situation and took me to protests against the occupation. As a result I learned much more than I could have expected, and also had the chance to catch a glimpse of what it is like to live in country in conflict. To see some photos of my trip click here.
The day before I left, Israel began bombing Gaza, killing hundreds of civilians. At a peace protest in Tel Aviv, Israelis young and old chanted “No, no war. Yes, yes Peace.” If only they were listened to.

Shalome and best wishes for a peaceful New year.

Oh Goody - Gifts!

My sister sent me an email the other day asking what I wanted for Christmas. My first thought was ‘oh goody gifts!’ and I rubbed my hands together in anticipation of…. Well I couldn’t think of what. I thought about DVDs but I can get those here, and online, for much cheaper than buying and mailing them. Then I thought of clothes (coz Carolyn has great taste) but then I couldn’t think of what in particular I needed. Since I move a lot, I really don’t need any more stuff to lug around. So I emailed my kind sister back a little sheepishly - I wrote, “why don’t you just make a donation to Emmanuel Center instead of buying me a gift.”

So if you’re like me and tired of buying and getting stuff, why not give to Emmanuel Center. We have even come up with Creative Christmas Cards, so you can truely share the joy of Christmas with the children at Emmanuel Center, and with your family and friends.

Here is how it works:
Pick a Christmas gift item from the list bellow. Donate the amount online and email lkell@sd48.bc.ca (my darling mother) who will mail you the card. You get a lovely card to give as a unique gift and the children at Emmanuel Center get something they need. You can also just give online in the name of a friend or family member. Any questions just email mom (lkell@sd48.bc.ca)!

Here are your gift card options:

Full of Beans - Beans are a staple component of the diet at Emmanuel Center. A gift of $75 will keep the children full of energy for a full month.

The Long Walk to School - School shoes cost about $15, and with 40 growing boys Emmanuel Center is always needing to replace somebody's shoes –the kids can't go to school without them.

Give Education - Secondary school isn't free in Kenya. In fact tuition fees are about $400. Therefore it isn't surprising that most kids miss out on a secondary education.

Got Your Goat? - For $40 there is nothing the kids at the center like more than having a goat to roast. In fact it's a Christmas tradition to slaughter a goat. Don't feel bad for the goat, celebrate with the kids who rarely enjoy meat and love using every part of the goat… the head makes soup… the hide makes drums… and you don't want to know what they do with the eyeballs.

Food in the Belly - It costs only $1000 to feed all 40 kids each month! That might not seem a lot compared to the typical grocery bill in a North American family, but it adds up at Emmanuel Center. So please consider feeding the whole center for a month through a generous donation.

Fun'n Games - The kids at Emmanuel Center literally wear out soccer balls –they play with them until the leather cracks and the stitching dissolves.Donations of $20 to our recreation fund replace soccer balls, buy other recreation equipment and even allow the boys to go on field trips hiking and camping.

Thank you to everyone who has given in 2008 - you helped educate 40 former street kids, gave them a home when they had no where else to go, and ensured they had a healthy, happy year!

A Christmas Story

One day, just a few days before Christmas, a little boy was looking for a place to lay his head and rest. He went to his Aunt’s house in Kibera slum, where his mom lay coughing up blood, but his Aunt said, “there is no room for you here.” He went to a church, but the pastor said, “there is no room for you here.” He went to the children’s AIDS hospice, where his brother lived, but the lady said sadly, “there is no room for you here.”
The little boy made himself a bed out boxes in a ditch. That night he dreamed of a soft bed, with a red Masi blanket.
The next day he went to a mosque that gives alms to street kids. He said thank you for the 20 shillings they gave him and asked if there was a place he could sleep. They said, “There is no room for you here.” He bought bananas, but he dreamed of eating a Christmas feast of goat and sweets.
The night he slept in his box in the ditch. He had just begun dreaming about shoes for his tired feet when he was woken by a police man with a stick beating him away. His tired feet ran, pitter patter, over the cracked pavement, broken glass and rotting garbage, and away from the police man.
He ran and ran and ran, until he found himself on the outskirts of Nairobi. The Ngong Hills rose up like seven knuckles and above the tallest peak was a bright star. The boy decided to climb to the star. His feet bled and his stomach rumbled but up, up he hike.
Along the way he was joined by Masi with their cattle. “Where are you going?” he asked them. “To the star,” they said. The little boy followed them and just before dawn they reach the highest peak and the star shone down illuminating all of Nairobi.
The little boy was tired and curled up on the grass. One of the Masi wrapped a red blanket around him and said, “if you dream under that star, your dreams will come true.” The little boy nodded sleepily and fell fast asleep.
He woke to the sound of children laughing. All around him little kids in new shoes were running up and down the hill. He smelt a sweet smell in the air and before he knew it a big boy thrust a bone under his noise. “Want some goat?” the big boy said.
The little boy hadn’t eaten meat in years and quickly munched on the bone. All of a sudden he didn’t feel tired any more. He ran up and down the hill with the other kids. One of them noticed his bleeding feet and handed him a pair of blue shoes, “you can have these ones, I have two pairs” he said. The little boy danced in his new shoes to the drumming and singing of the other kids. One of the big boys handed out sweets and said, “ok let’s get going,” and all the kids started to run down the hill.
The little boy ran after them calling, “Wait can I come.” The other children replied, “Of course, there is room for you here.”
The little boy found himself in a simple house, with a big room full of bunk beds – the sign over the door said Emmanuel Center. The children pointed to one soft mattress and said “you can sleep there,” and the little boy spread his red Masi blanket over it. “Merry Christmas,” he said to his new home.

I love to tell stories about the boys at Emmanuel Center and, while this isn’t a true story, I often think of the street kids in Nairobi when I hear the story of Mary and Joseph and how there was no room at the inn for them. There is no room for the 250,000 street children in Nairobi in most homes or orphanages in Kenya. Even more sadly, there is no room for them in the policies of governments and agencies that ignore their suffering. Even Emmanuel Center can only house, feed and educate 40 at a time. But we try to help those we can, hoping to remind them that they do a space in the hearts of people who care. This Christmas please consider sharing some of your Christmas joy with street kids in Nairobi. You can donate online at www.emmanuelcenter.com

The World We Live In

By the magic of technology I have world headlines instantly updated on my home page. Right now there are two headlines, one underneath the other. The first one reads “Mumbai Jewish Center Hostages Die; 200 Others Freed” the second one reads, “Wal-Mart Employee Trampled to Death.” Is this the world we live in? Where on one side of the world people die because of fundamentalism and on the other they die because of consumerism? There is no way to deny that this is our world, and that it is a terribly sad place in many ways.

Studying with people from around the world brings the differences of realities into sharp focus. Right now one of my good friends is waiting for news of a friend trapped in a hotel in Mumbia, his home town. The attacks occurred at the same time as we were celebrating his birthday at a curry restaurant in Bradford. A few weeks ago another friend from Somalia told us, in an off handed way, that he knew many of the 26 people killed by a bomb attack. Another friend, this time from Guatemala, recently got news that one of his best friends was kidnapped, but managed to escape though severely injured. This is the world we live in.

Last night we took time to also celebrate the creativity and diversity of our world. My two remarkable friends, Vanessa and Helen, organized a Culture Cabaret. Students from the department shared their cultures through songs, ceremonies, poems, dances and food. The highlight of the night was a Bollywood dance performed by students from India, Holland, Taiwan, Canada, and Tajikistan. It was the ultimate expression of cross-cultural fusion. I think of my brave friends twirling and gyrating to the cheery Bollywood tune and I think, thankfully, this is also the world we live in. It’s a world of creativity, of friendship, of sharing –and it might just be what saves us from the dustructive forces of fundamentalism and consumerism.

Mount Kenya, Starbucks and Street Kids

I want to take you back in time, to three months ago. Three months doesn’t see very long in the grand scheme of things but for me (sitting at my desk in chilly but lovely Bradford UK) it is hard to imagine that just three months ago I was standing on top of Mount Kenya. So I want to revisit the journey with you in a way I couldn’t previously.
Our guide woke us (Mom, Dad and I) up at three am for hot tea and biscuits. We had been working our way up the mountain for the last three days and my body ached with stiffness as I pulled on my warmest clothes. As we left the hut the nearly full moon shone down on the ridge above us. Our guide explained that we ‘just’ needed to get to the top of the ridge and then “up over the top” we would go.
So we started placing one foot in front of the other up the sleet mountain. At 5000 meters above sea level the air is freezing and thin especially, it seemed, at three in the morning. Half way up my lungs started to constrict with asthma. We stopped so I could wheeze into a glove till my lungs relaxed. All I could think of was “I’m not going back down. We have to go to the top.” We resumed our painfully slow footsteps. The closer we got to the top of ridge the larger it became, and so the farther it seemed we had to go. As my breathing became more labored my thoughts became depressed: “This is the stupidest thing I have ever done. Why would I, someone with asthma, decide to climb a mountain. I’m an idiot.” If it wasn't for my quitely encouraging parents I would have sat down and cried.
In retrospect I know that such defeatist thoughts often inflict most of us at our most challenging moments. In the last few years that I’ve worked with Emmanuel Rescue Center, in Nairobi Kenya, I’ve often felt helpless, useless, and definitely stupid – and it has only been because of the people working with me that I have encouraged me otherwise.

However, I honestly wasn’t (for once) thinking about Emmanuel Center as I trudged up the mountain. I was thinking “breath in, breath out, breath in, breath out.” By a mircale I made it over the ridge. As we nestled into a crop of rock, out of the wind, to catch our breath my mobile phone (which I had forgotten was in my pack because there was no reception in the valley) beeped. I instantly remembered that I was expecting a message from Daniel letting me know if we had been successful in a grant application. There was no time to check the message as we pushed for the final summit.
The sun’s first rays were starting to peak out of the clouds bellow us. We pulled ourselves over the final ledges, and I was suddenly exhilarated. The sun rose through the clouds and the site of the Kenyan flag in its first rays made my heart jump. I dug through my pack for the phone and read a message that said “Good job, we got it!”
Two months ago the team at Emmanuel Center had submitted a proposal to the new Starbucks Youth Innovation Fund. The text message meant the fund had just accepted our proposal, which in turn meant that 30 street children who would otherwise go without a meal will receive lunch five days a week; hundreds of youth will have access to a community library and computer training, and there will be new resources for HIV prevention, counseling and drug rehabilitation for street kids.
On top of Mount Kenya, the weight of this realization lifted me above the clouds, and I burst into tears. The sun was shinning on a new day, and despite the rough start, I was on top of the world.


Three months later (after all the paper work has been signed so I can make the grant public) I sit here and reflect that the work of Emmanuel Center is much like climbing a mountain in cold thin air. Sometimes we want to give up, and though parts of it are fun, it is always hard, but good company pushes us on and the success of reaching new heights is worth it. The generous support of Starbucks is a new peak in Emanuel Center’s work, but as long as there are growing numbers of street children in Kenya, the long hard hike goes on.


I am intensely grateful to Starbucks for joining us on the journey and offering a helping hand.

Taste Testing Dublin

I didn’t really plan to go to Dublin. About a month ago I got an email from a friend that said, “We just bought tickets to Dublin for 40 quid. We’re leaving the day we hand in our first essay. Wanna come along?” I glances through the door and asked Vanessa “Want to go to Dublin with Yvette, Yula, Pedro and Philip after we hand in our essays?” She said yes and we bought the tickets on line all in a matter of minutes.
We then reimbursed ourselves in essay research and writing. We also had the Rotary Peace Seminar to distract us. So all of a sudden my finished essay was handed in and I was in a taxi with my five friends headed for Ireland.
We arrived at the Ashfeild Hostel (very nice and affordable) late Thursday night. First stop the next morning was Trinity Colleague to see the Book of Kells. The book is an illustrated copy of the gospel story created in 700 AD by Irish monks. The calligraphy and Celtic patterns are remarkable, as are the still preserved colours. As we walked the ancient library corridor I could almost smell the history radiating from some of the oldest books in the world.
Later we wandered the streets and we just happened upon a castle and a number of ancient cathedrals. Our stomachs began to growl and we learnt our first lesson we learned about Dublin - cheap food does not exists. Dublin is by far the most expensive place I have ever been in my life.
That night we headed out to the famous Temple Bar, a region famous for the night life. As we bounced through the bars we met all sorts of lively characters from Ireland and abroad.

The next day we headed for the Saturday markets which were honestly a bit tiny and disappointing. That night we headed out again to the Temple Bar area, where we first listen to some rather bad hard rock band, and then later much better Irish folk music, and had a few pints.
On Sunday we went to church at Saint Patrick’s Cathedral. The giant church’s vaulted ceilings and stain glass awed us as we sat shivering in the drafty cold. Luckily the priest quickly warmed our hearts. It was Remembrance Sunday (like Remembrance Day for you Canadians) and his topic was ‘the abolition of war.’ It was the perfect rallying cry for a bunch of Peace Studies students like us.
After church we decided to see some Irish country side and headed out of the city on the train to the suburb where the guide book said Bono (the lead singer of the famous rock band U2) lived. However, when we got there we were told he did not. The disappointment continued. The map clearly marked a castle but everyone we asked for directions raised their eyebrows and said ‘castle?’ so we gave up. Oh well, with the poring rain and swirling wind it was the best kind of day to drink tea in a café anyways. That evening we heard some great Irish folk music (mixed in with modern classics like ‘Summer of 69’)at a lovely pub.
Monday was our final day in Dublin and there was only one important thing left to do – visit the Jameson Whiskey factory. (I had passed on going to the Guinness storehouse since I don’t like the beer.) At the old factory we heard the story of John Jameson and had a science lesson in how whisky is made. Then they needed volunteers for whisky tasting and so of course I had to offer my services. I had to taste and compare three whiskies. I decided to tell a white lie and say Jameson was the best, even though I preferred the scotch, and as a reward was given a Whiskey tasting diploma – I’m now a certified whisky drinker : )
It was late and cold when we arrived back in Bradford, but every once of exhaustion was 100 % worth it. Dublin is a remarkable city and I’m very grateful to my wonderful traveling companions for making the treat a true adventure.
Peace Out!

Rotary Peace Seminar

Last weekend was a busy one. It was the Bill Huntly Peace Seminar here at the University of Bradford. The seminar was organized by our fabulous predecessors - Class Six of the Rotary World Peace Fellows. It was an opportunity to hear about what they have learned over the last year of being peace fellows, and also for my class (class seven) to introduce ourselves. To watch a clip of our presentation go here and click on the link to the recording.

I've also posted a collection of my photos since coming to the UK. There are lots of photos from Rotary events as well as some more social outings. Enjoy!

The next posting will be all about Dublin..... yippy!

London Wanderings

It’s study week here at the University of Bradford, so naturally Vanessa (my fabulous roommate) and I decided to go to London for a few days. We arrived on Tuesday afternoon at our hostel right in the heart of Piccadilly Circus. The place was a bit of a circus itself but clean enough and cheap enough for two student travelers like us. Plus we were hardly there.
We immediately went to meet friends in front of Westminster Abbey and then stroll down to see Big Ben, the parliament buildings and Trafalgar Square. We had a lovely Italian dinner off Regent Street and then headed for Wicked, the musical. Wicked is the story of the two witches from wizard of OZ, before they became the ‘Good Witch’ and the ‘Wicked Witch’, when they were roommates in college. It absolutely hilarious! Afterwards we decided we needed a couple of drinks to help us fall asleep in the hostel and so headed to the pub.
The next morning we got up early to head to Buckingham Palace to see the changing of the guards, which was unfortunately canceled for the day. Still we enjoyed seeing the sites. We picked up Daniel, another friend stopping over a night on a flight from Vancouver to Kenya, from the airport and headed to Hyde Park. However the chilly autumn weather was too much for my southern friends (Vanessa is from California and Daniel is from Kenya) so we detoured to the Natural History Museum were we traveled to the center of the earth. After that is was off to another pub and then Vanessa and I decided to cash in on cheep student tickets again and went to see the stage adaptation of Rain Man (Daniel went to sleep off his jet leg). The play was also fantastic – a perfect balance of laughter and tears. By the time Vanessa was fast asleep in her hostel bunk, Daniel was wide awake so he and I wandered Piccadilly in our pajamas for a few hours.
The next morning we decided to return to Westminster Abbey, and this time go inside. The history of the place is overwhelming. In a few hours of wandering we felt like we had absorbed most of the royal history since the 13th century and some of the science and literature too! Next we headed to Hyde Park where we had a fantastic Turkish lunch and poked in the cute shops. Unfortunately it was then time for Vanessa and I to catch our bus back to Bradford.
Now it’s Friday morning and I’m writing this instead of working on my essay or preparing for the Rotary Peace Seminar this weekend – I better get on to both.
Peace!

P.S. I would post photos but my computer has some problems and is refusing to let me : (

the Daily Grind

Just in case you all were thinking I was only having fun here. Let me share some of my daily grind with you…..
This morning I had my African Politics course – which I love. However, today’s topic was ethnic conflict and revolved around the Rwandan genocide. We watched a film about how all the world powers knew what was happening but failed to intervene. Then our professor told us about how he worked for the UN during the genocide and was in Rwanda immediately before it broke out. His job was to report on the likelihood of conflict – something he reported was very likely. He then spent the three months during the genocide in South Africa, as the world watched and did nothing. On returning to Rwanda after the massacre (one million people in 100 days) his job was to advise the UN on the best ways of disposing of the thousands of dead bodies throughout the country. He said what he learnt from the experience is that the world does not care about each other….. Somber thoughts for us idealist peace students.
After class I read about the links between HIV/AIDS and conflict for two hours. Once again the genocide came up in the readings which documented how rape and HIV are increasingly used as a weapon of war. I then went to a lecture of ‘Surprises in History’ including the very recent credit crunch…. More somber thoughts for a bunch of students hoping to get well paying jobs in the non-profit sector when we graduate.
After the lecture was an information session on how to write our first essays. I believe the purpose of the session was to build our confidence, but all 80 or so of us left feeling more panicked than before. For one thing, we learned that many people don’t pass their first essay! I could feel the stress level in the room rise with every other piece of advice the professor gave us, as we just built on each others’ anxiety. Next time I’m bringing my yoga candle to the session and lead everyone in deep breathing every few minutes : )
The good news is I then went out with a group of friends for dinner. Bradford is famous for curry and Omars (a great curry restaurant) is the only places I’ve eaten out here because I don’t see any reason to go anywhere else. It’s a cheap, you can bring you own wine, and they serve naan the size of the table! By the time our tummies were full the stress of essays, and our concern over the state of the world, had somewhat subsided.
So now I will watch a bit of Pride and Prejudice and sleep well. I’ll get up work on my essay, go to my Conflict Resolution course and then to yoga… and so life goes on for us lucky ones who get to read and study about the world’s problems instead of face them.
Big Love and Peace to Everyone.

Thankful Thoughts

Thanksgiving has come and gone and now fall is really here. I spent four hours in the library today and still feel there is so much to learn. Fall makes me reflective, and my time constraints make me prefer lists to narratives, so please forgive the continued trend of bullets on my blog. Here is a rather important little list to help me keep perspective.

10 things I’m thankful for:

1. 
   The fabulous Thanksgiving potluck we shared on Monday night in Bradford. Over 30 Peace Studies students from all over the world gathered to celebrate a holiday they knew little about but certainly enjoyed.
2. 
   My remarkable fellow-Peace Fellows… to meet the rest of the Rotary World Peace Fellows in class seven click here
3. 
   The wonderful weekend we all shared in Scarbourough and our successful presentation at the Rotary District Conference.
4. 
   The very boisterous, yet spiritual, ‘Beer and Hymns’ we enjoyed last night raising funds for Christian Aid
5. 
   That my African Politics professor gave me two more copies of his book ‘The Political Economy of AIDS in Africa’ to give to the library so I don’t have to wait three weeks for the one copy I reserved.
6. 
   The lovely photo I’m looking at right now of my nephew Beckam
7. 
   That I can call international for free (well kind of for free) so can talk to my parents as much as I like
8. 
   That my apartment has a bath tub and not just a shower
9. 
   That my friends and I booked tickets to Dublin for the day after we hand in our first essay
10. 
    That I showed my professor the outline for my first essay and he said I was 'on the right track'
11. 
    And ALWAYS… My sweet memories of days spent at Emmanuel Center in Kenya

Thank you everyone - Big smiles and hugs all around : )

Soak it In

I’m readjusting to student life and loving it. I feel like a sponge, ready to soak in knowledge (and the rain). This week I singed up for classes, bought my books, borrowed more books from the library and dusted off my brain cells. Of course not all learning comes from books and lectures. Most of it is achieved through experiences and relationships. Though I’m feeling a little overwhelmed by all I’ve attempted to soak up this week, I thought I’d share some of the highlights….
Five things I learned this week:
From a fellow scholar . . . . .That the Chinese symbol for Peace is the combination of the symbol for agriculture and the symbol for mouth – therefore symbolizing that peace is closely linked to people having enough to eat.
In Introduction to Peace Studies . . . .That, this year, the United States of America will spend more on its military than all the other countries in the world combined.
At the Rotary Link Weekend of Ambassadorial and Peace Scholars . . . . How to ‘country dance’ (square dance) English style, with 80 other international students.
In Introduction to African Politics . . . . That most African countries spend more on debt repayment than they do on health care.
In life . . . . that the British have pubs everywhere - even in health and fitness clubs!

Also here is a photo of myself and Puck (the statue) in Stratford (Shakespear’s birth place).
Big Hugs and Smiles all around : )

First Impressions of Bradford

There are literally people from all over the world here. There are students from over 40 countries who come from over 20 different academic disciplins. Despite such massive difference all of us MA students appear to have much in common. For example, everyone is so nice and friendly it is almost shocking. So needless to say my first week in Bradford has been fantastic.
Before I arrived I heard a great deal about the bad Bradford weather, but the sun has been shinning pretty much since I got here. I still haven’t tried the curry Bradford is famous for, but I have indulged in an English pint or two. I joined the other international students on a trip to York, spending a wonderful Sunday visiting ancient cathedrals and castels (remember the seige of York in Braveheart – that’s were we where).
Classes have started and I won’t lie, are a bit overwhelming. I haven’t selected my three courses yet simply because I would love to take all of the courses. I have met my fellow Rotary World Peace Fellows and have to say of all the nice, brillant people I’ve met here they are the nicest, most brillant! This weekend we are all off to a Rotary function in Birmingham, which will hopefully provide exciting content for next week’s blog.
In closing I will just say that throughout the week I have been continually overcome with gratitude. I can’t believe my good fortune - that I’m here, at one of the top universities for Peace Studies, and all through Rotary’s generousity. This is a very remarkable opportunity.

From the top of the world

I’ve been a very lazy blogger lately. Not because I haven’t had much to write but because I’ve been too busy to. In the last three weeks I’ve gone from roasting a goat with the Emmanuel boyz on the Ngong hills to coming within two meets of lions in Samburu. My dad (both he and my mom visited Kenya) taught the boys how to repair bicycles and encouraged me up to the summit of Mount Kenya. I tucked an orphaned elephant into bed and celebrated when the first student from Emmanuel Center went to his first day of university. Together with my parents, we spent a lovely three days at the Kenyan coast, and then said a tearfully goodbye to the children at Emmanuel Center. Now I’m sitting in my parents’ house in lovely Squamish B.C. and beginning to prepare for the next great adventure…..
In the meantime instead of writing a very long story I’ve got some photos – a sort of summary of my last three weeks in Kenya – to share. Here is the web album!
Thanks for reading, thanks for caring and thanks for keeping in touch. Please continue to check in as I head off to Bradford and an academic adventure in Peace Studies.

Book Nerds in the Making

As many of you know I’m a book nerd of the first degree. What many don’t know is that I wrote a children’s story about the boys at Emmanuel Center and submitted it to the Canadian Writer’s Union Writing for Children’s Contest. The story is about two Kenyan brothers who are both in desperate need of a home, which they find at a special center for street children. This little story was selected from 925 submissions as one of 12 finalists (though it wasn’t the over all winner). The prize for being a finalist is that your story is sent to three publishing houses – so now I’m praying that my story gets published so that children all over the world (or at least Canada) can read about Emmanuel Center.

Now on to other story books – last week we got a shipment from Afretech worth it’s wait in gold - 50 boxes of books! Afretech is a registered charity that supports education programs in Africa. Afretech not only makes it possible for North Americans to donate to Emmanuel Center, it has also sent computers in the past, and has now equipped the center with a full library.
The books are ideal for the Emmanuel students. There are atlases and dictionaries, which our teachers drooled over. We filled shelves with young adult novels and reference books. The English and Math text books, including teacher’s resource guides, will greatly improved the tuition and in house education at the center.
As I unpacked the boxes, crudely organizing the books by fiction, non-fiction, reference, or text book, (we need a librarian volunteer to catalogue them) the boys gathered around with eyes wide. I doubt they had ever seen so many books before. Their schools are completely devoid of book shelves, and a class of 70 students often shares less than five text books.
So it isn’t surprising that the students honour books as prized possessions to be kept somewhere safe, but not necessarily read. In fact I had to argue with staff and some boys at the center to be able to put the books out on shelves were they could be accessed and read – they wanted to lock them in a cupboard were they would be safe. Over the last few days some boys have taken books to school, to show off, but few have read any. There simply isn’t that culture here of picking up a book and reading it. However, I expect that to change. School holidays start this week and our teachers and volunteers will be sure to use the library to engage the students. If all goes well by the end of the month all the Emmanuel students will be book nerds just like me!

Family Ties

Recently, David (one of the children at Emmanuel Center) has been talking a lot about his family. Some of it is obviously purely fiction… stories he wishes were true. For example he insists his father is the Director of another children’s home – “just like Daniel” he tells me. The truth is that David’s father has been out of the picture since he was a toddler. David was brought to the center by his mother and a priest. The priest had found him begging on the streets, looked for the mother and found her in Nairobi’s slums, suffering from AIDS related illnesses. It was obvious that David’s mother loved him very much. She was distressed to leave him at Emmanuel center, but bravely admitted she could not care for him and begged us to help him (actually we had no room for him but couldn’t refuse her so convinced the priest to buy him a bed and squeezed him in). The priest said he had taken David’s two younger brothers to a special home for HIV positive children.
That was three years ago. A year ago both his mother and youngest brother passed away. We never heard about the other brother until this week when David said he wanted to visit him at a home for HIV+ children. So on Saturday visited the home and asked for Jackson. The kind Matron, with a wonderfully wrinkled face from smiling for sixty-odd years, looked through her files but could find no record of Jackson. David’s face fell, though he manly (he is 12 years old) blinked back tears. “Are you sure?” We asked and looked at all the photos of all the children incase he had given a different name, but with no luck. My heart shrunk – an orphaned HIV positive child doesn’t have much of a chance anywhere but in a special home. I feared he was dead and was terrified that David maybe thinking the same thing. Then someone mentioned the name of another home that cares for HIV positive children, so we took a deep breath and tried again.
The equally wrinkly and kindly nun that received us was ecstatic – “Jackson’s brother! I didn’t know he had a brother.” We were just as ecstatic to see the small shy boy enter the room, eyes wide and staring. He didn’t know he had a brother either. Jackson and David had been separated when Jackson was just three years old and he didn’t remember any of his family.
The little boy was overwhelmed but us visitors, who kept asking him questions … How old was he, did he go to school, what class was he in…. Seeing he was beyond words I suggested we walk around the compound. When we stood up David, who was grinning, took his younger brother’s hand and my heart began to skip with joy. After our walk we left them alone. Through the window I could hear David softly explaining to Jackson about his family and I saw Jackson beginning to smile. The nun returned and told Jackson, “Isn’t this nice you have a big brother - someone to help take care of you.” And David’s chest puffed up and out.
I hoped finding the brother would help David give up his fantasy about his father (and sometimes Aunts and Uncles too), but as we drove past another children’s home he told me, “That’s where my dad works. He’s the Director. Just like Daniel.”
I didn’t tell him he was wrong – that I knew the director was a very nice lady - I’ll leave that to the professional councilors. Instead I said, “Your little brother is sure lucky to have you for a big brother.” David smiled and said, “I know.”

Small Victories and Big Heroes

First …. THANK YOU for all the lovely birthday donations. I can now buy my own herd of goats and fully equip the boys with study books – Asanta Sana.

Today I’m meditating on the small victories we’ve experienced at Emmanuel Center over the last week. I have to do this when ever I get discouraged, and today I am a little discouraged for no good reason. A few of the boys have been misbehaving at school, our van has problems and the staff at Emmanuel are looking a little over worked. So I become frustrated that we can’t pay staff more, that we can’t waive a magic wand to make the boys behave perfectly, that we can’t conjure a new vehicle out of thin air….. etc. So now that frustration has done me no good, I’ve decided to make list of our ‘victories’ over the last week instead. Here it is:

• Two of the older boys at the center registered for a driving course


• Paul, one of the first boys to graduate from high school, was accepted at the Catholic University of East Africa


• Our new chicken pen is complete


• I read a grade two level story book in Swahili and Kamu (one of the boys) read a grade two level story book in English!


• One of the boys we reintegrated with his family returned for a visit and is doing very well


• We took a child refugee from Sudan to the Australian Embassy so he can get a visa and be reunited with his sister

I run through this list a couple times and I feel better. In fact I feel great. We may not have won any major battels, but the boys and staff at the center are certainly victorious heroes.

A Special Birthday Wish List

July 22nd is my birthday! I’m planning to escape Nairobi for Lake Naivasha to relax at Fisherman’s Campsite where they have delicious food (including great Swahili fish stew and chocolate cake) and monkeys that provide more amusement than YouTube. But I will really miss all you folks who are on the other side of the world – especially the drinks and gifts I know you would shower me with : ) But don’t worry, I have an idea on how you can still contribute to this special day. For example:
• If you are the lovely kind of friend that would take me out to the bar and buy me a drink, why not donate $10 to Emmanuel Center so we can buy another one of these really cool study books for the high school kids (the books are by subject and have practice exams and other fun stuff. The boys begged for them so I bought them the Math and Physics editions but we just don’t have enough for all the subjects. I would love each of the boys to have their own complete set of all subjects).
• If you are a close friend who is always so kind to buy me a gift, you could donate $40 to buy a goat, which the boys will have a lot of fun slaughtering and eating. Imagine it isn’t everyday you get to buy your friend a goat for her birthday!
• If you are one of my few rich friends or one of my relatives that spoil me rotten, you might want to donate $100 to help with the outreach center we are in the process of getting up and running.

I know this is a usual sort of Birthday Wish List, but I’m so happy to have this opportunity to spread some of my birthday joy to the children here. If you would like to share in the fun please donate online by clicking here (you will get to a donation page of Afretech Aid Society - the charity that supports Emmanuel Center. From the Fund/Designation menue select Emmanuel Boyz Rescue Center and fill in your gift amount. Afretech will send all your donation directly to Emmanuel Center.)
Thank you!

the Other Stories

He was wearing a jersey from my high school basketball team. I was shocked by the word ‘Sounders’ written across his chest in bright blue. I felt like two realities had collided. I thought of some happy peer of mine in the past, putting on the jersey before a game in a well lit gym, wearing Nike running shoes and going home to a loving family, and I looked at the dirty, barefoot, high, 14 year old boy now wearing the jersey in front of me….. the contrast was too extreme.
Mwengie, the street boy wearing the jersey, was given it by a visitor from my home town. That was when Mwengie was living at Emmanuel Center, free of drugs, eating three meals a day and going to school. Now he rarely eats, he sleeps on the streets, and he sniffs glue to forget the constant fear of violence and abuse. So what went wrong?
Sigh….. I don’t know. I like to tell people stories of Emmanuel children excelling in school, going on to further training, helping each other and so on. But there are other stories too. Not every child is able to quit drugs or adapt to a life of rules. It is a miracle that so many do when you compare addiction recovery rates at Emmanuel Center (over 75%) to North American drug rehabilitation centers (for many 50% is successful). But statistics don’t make a difference to the individual, and the fact is Mwengi is on the streets and addicted, instead of being safe and healthy at Emmanuel Center.
Mwengi ran away from Emmanuel Center after an argument with a teacher at his school. He never told the center staff about the argument, he just ran. His behavior is not uncommon. I’m not a child psychologist, but what I guess is that on the streets children learn to run from any conflict at a very early age – it is the only conflict resolution skill they have. So Mwengi ran, started sniffing glue again to forget his suffering and is now begging outside a shopping mall in a basketball jersey from my high school. Daniel will speak to him and see if he is able to return to Emmanuel Center. I’ll let you know if he does. If he doesn’t, try not to be disappointed. Daniel tells me when can’t help them all, that they have to chose to be helped themselves; to change their behavior. I try to gain this perspective. To just think of the 40 boys going to school, working hard and playing football as I type this, but I’ts hard. It’s very very hard.

The best kind of day

It is the best kind of day. I meet Sammy at the cyber café. Sammy is one of Emmanuel Center’s first high school graduates. He comes from Kitui in Central Kenya. The area is so dry that the World Food Program has had to provide food aid to Sammy’s community for the last decade. His mother is still trying to grow a few crops on their acre of desert, while battling TB and AIDS. His father and youngest sibling are dead. His three other younger brothers are all at Emmanuel Center, having fled rural poverty for Nairobi’s streets and then the streets for a chance at Emmanuel Center.
Sammy is all smiles. We are going to register him for college. We board a matatu. Matatus are the most common form of public transport. Most are Nissan 14 seater mini vans, though they often squeeze in 15, 16, or 17 passengers. Most blare hip hop, reggae or gospel music (or a lively mix of all three) and are decorated with decals representing European football teams, American gangster rap and God. The one we’re on clearly supports Arsenal Football Club, has a huge picture of some gangst’a (I don’t know any of their names) and numerous stickers with sayings like “God can do what no man can do,” and “I love Jesus.” I’ve often compared riding matatus to riding roller coasters since the driving makes your stomach drop. Thankfully we reach downtown Nairobi safely and cross Moi Avenue, one of the busiest streets in Nairobi, with only two near death experiences.
Sammy and I enter the office of the Tourism College to a warm reception. Sammy has decided to study catering and found an excellent course. After one year he will get a certificate in Food Preparation and Management, if he continues for another year he will get a Diploma in the same, and if he completes a third year he will have a Advanced Diploma in Catering. We go over the paper work and register him to start in July. Since Sammy mentioned the course to me he has been constantly praying for it, even though I told him it was a done deal and I could guarantee that I would beg, borrow or steal the funding for it. Now he still doesn’t seem to quite believe it.
We go for lunch and he begins to talk – and Sammy is a talker. The conversations goes something like this: he says, “You know Daniel (Emmanuel Center founder and director) is like my father and I love him so much and he is my father because he saved my life and he put me through school and now he has brought people like you to help me. I love him so much. I really honour him….and you are so good. You must come to Kitui and see my home. I will give you half my farm (which is of course drought ridden) and we will kill our only goat for you. I am so happy…. Once I have this course I won’t want anything. I will never ask for anything again. I will be a chef and can’t miss a job…I will get a good job and give you the farm… and I will come on safari with you and cook for you. You know once I’m a chef I can’t miss a job. I won’t ask anything from Emmanuel Center again. I will be a donor. If I have job I can help others like Daniel does. I won’t ask anything from Daniel again…” And so the conversation goes full circle and starts at the beginning again. Meanwhile I’m torn between bursting into tears, because I’m so moved by what Sammy is saying, and bursting out laughing. Sammy is desperately trying to eat his chicken and chips with a knife fork even though everyone in Kenya picks up chicken with both hands and chews it off the bone. Sammy is obviously inexperienced with a knife and fork, but I guess he’ll learn such things in college too.
And as we ride the crowded, smelly, noisy matatu back to the center I realize that this might just be one of the best days of my life. Sammy is starting a new phase in his life, a phase he had every chance of missing due to poverty and disease, and I am here to celebrate it.

A visit to the children's HIV clinic

At the children’s HIV clinic which we take the HIV+ Emmanuel children to there is a chart on the wall that lists how many HIV + children have been admitted this month (8), how many have transferred to other clinics (6) and how many have died (4). The furniture is simple (the examining table is the most basic wood table with a plastic table cloth on top), there are no computers and the medical supplies include only simple plastic gloves, tongue depressors, etc. (which is most than most Kenyan hospitals have), but the place is spotless (which most Kenyan hospitals are not) and the staff are cherry.
Brother (the remarkable volunteer at Emmanuel Center who does everything from monitoring the boys’ education to supervising their healthcare) and I take the HIV+ children to the clinic for medication refills.
The first child, let’s call him Dave, recently tested negative for HIV. The staff called me while I was still in Canada and told me he had ‘turned negative by a miracle.’ I instantly shot down their optimism, saying it is impossible to ‘turn negative.’ In fact I was harsh with them. I find belief in miraculous healing, when it comes to HIV, extremely dangerous – it leads to rash behavior and people praying instead of taking medication or protecting themselves. It turns out, on consulting the doctor, Dave’s first test for HIV must have been wrong. This happens occasionally, even in Canada. So though it wasn’t a miracle, there is good reason to celebrate.
The second child, let’s call him Sam, is one ARVs (HIV medication) but hasn’t been taking them regularly, even though Brother gives them to him at the allotted time each day. Sam who is 13 is rebelling like many 13 year olds do. He has realized that taking his medication on time is very important to the staff and so when he doesn’t get his way about something else he retaliates by refusing the medication. However, unlike many 13 year olds, his rebellion could truly shorten his life (not adhering to medication regimes can cause drug resistance). So the doctor, Brother and I all try and explain that the only person Sam is hurting is himself. Still I have to sympathize with him. I know many adults in Canada struggle to take their medication regularly; it is so much to ask of a child. We resolve the issue, hopefully, by agreeing to get him a watch with an alarm set for the time he must take the medication – this way he has to be responsible for himself, though of course he will still be monitored by Brother.
The third child, let’s call him Peter, is not on ARVs but is taking multivitamins to maintain his immune system. (The clinic gives us these and the medications for free through the fantastic program of Nymbani Children’s Home, funded by USAID.) The doctor asks Peter if he knows why he takes the vitamins and comes to the clinic, and Peter says no, though he has already been counseled many times about his HIV status. So we send him to the counselor to explain it all to him again. Once again I have to sympathize with him – HIV is a complicated disease, how can he really understand it?
Luckily, he comes out of the councilor’s office smiling and I could kiss the councilor in gratitude for doing such a hard job so well. She agrees to come to the center to test all the children again (we like to test them once a year) and provide counseling/education. However, she first has to request the extra supplies needed. She only gets about 100 testing kits a month and if she runs out before hand she can’t test anyone till she gets more.
As we leave we pass the line of mothers with children as young as infants and as old as 14 waiting to also see the doctor and get medications. I try and rejoice that they are at the clinic – after all HIV medications can help HIV+ individuals live a ‘normal’ life and these mothers and children are doing the right thing by being at the clinic. However, I feel that the reality where there is a need for a specific clinic for children with HIV is a sad reality. No one ‘should’ have HIV, which is after all completely preventable, but children ‘should’ especially be free from the virus.
Thinking about the way the world ‘should’ be often makes me want to blame someone for the way it actually is. In this case I can’t blame the doctors, children or mothers. The only blame I can point is at those of us who know how to prevent mother-child transmission and who haven’t done a good enough job at communicating it and making it possible (prevention requires good maternity healthcare facilities and a nutritious supplement to breast milk) in places like Kenya. It’s a harsh reality.

No Peace No Ugali

Ugali is the past made from maize flour that most Kenya’s survive on. I saw the slogan ‘No Peace No Ugali’ spray painted across a hut in Kibera. I wish I could have taken a photo but I don’t usually take my camera into the slums. During the post election violence in January and February Kibera, one of the largest slums in the world and the site of much of the atrocities, was covered with slogans that read ‘No Raila, No Peace.’ Raila was the presidential contender and is now the prime minister. The killings, rapes, and destruction of property that occurred under this, and other slogans, has crippled the Kenyan economy and made it much more difficult for Kenyans’ to survive. So the new slogan, “No Peace, No Ugali,’ somehow seems much more correct. Without peace, Kenya will not be able to feed itself.

I get a lot of questions about the post-election violence from people in the west. I wasn’t here then but let me share some things my friends have told me…

-“They were rioting and burning tires just outside the gate. We had our passports ready and fuel in the car incase we had to run.”

- “I couldn’t get milk for my baby for five days. I was too scared to leave the house.”

- “We snuck Luos (one of the tribes) out of the neighborhood in the middle of the night. There were pamphlets warning them to leave now or be killed tomorrow.”

- “They (rioters) stopped our car and were going to burn it, and then one of them recognized me and let us go. My wife and baby were in the car crying.

-“He (an old acquaintance) is in hiding. He killed a Kikuyu (one of the tribes) woman during the violence.”

- It’s good Kofi Anan made them agree. Things would have gotten worse. The Kiyukus were ready to march to Kibera.’

- “This child saw his mother burnt alive. That one saw his grandmother raped. Where can they go home to?”

And, most commonly and most importantly…”We have seen who these politicians are. They have used us. They will not use us again. This will not happen in 2012.”

Remember No Peace, No Ugali – pray for peace.

Street kids and orphaned elephants

I’ve decided orphaned baby elephants and street kids are very similar. They eat tones (literally in the elephants’ case), like to play soccer, and get very dirty very fast! On May 22^nd we went to one of my favorite places in Nairobi. The David Sheldrick Wildlife Trust rescues orphaned baby elephants and reintegrates them into the wild, just like Emmanuel Rescue Center helps street kids and reintegrates them into the community.

Most of the baby elephants’ moms have been killed by poachers. Some of the babies had to watch their mothers die and so have post traumatic stress syndrome (I’m not kidding). Their handlers have to sleep next to them each night to ensure they stay calm and healthy. Visitors can watch these babies play every day between 11 am and 12 pm, and as I watched them climb all over each other, wallow in the mud, splash in the water and kick soccer balls around I was reminded exactly of the Emmanuel boys!

Since May 22^nd is my mom’s birthday, and because she has started to complain about not having grandchildren, I decided to get her grand-baby elephant! I fostered, in her name, Makena the orphaned elephant. Makena means ‘happy girl’ and Makena is very happy when she gets to play in the mud and with the soccer ball.

Ok now on to the street kids…. On Saturday we had a very special picnic to celebrate my Babu’s (Grandpa’s) visit. At Shalome Hills, a picnic site near the center, the Emmanuel boys piled on to the play ground equipment – something they don’t have in their schools - and quickly began games of volleyball and soccer. From the look out point we could see out over the planes the Masi tribe heard their livestock on, towards Mountain Kenya and the Aberdane Forest, and spot the skyline of Nairobi. Daniel, with help from the boys, barbequed nyama choma (roasted meat) and hot dogs for the 40 Emmanuel boys and 20 children from a partner center.

Most of the children from the partner center are victims of the violence that followed the December 27^th elections in Kenya. For example three brothers, the youngest just five years old, witnessed their mother being burnt alive by their neighbors. The brothers are quieter than most of the other children and cautious of strangers, but their eyes lit up like any child when they saw the swing set and slide. It was a sweet gift to see them laughing and playing.

A picnic is a rare treat even for the Emmanuel boys. Unfortunately our budget doesn’t allow for many recreational activities and their schools don’t offer sports teams and field trips like North American schools do. So we made the most of it, playing soccer until nearly dark. I think we were all exhausted by the end of the day, but the children trekked across the hills back to the center with big smiles on their faces. It was one of those rare and precious perfect days in Kenya.

Buying a Goat and Other Blessings

To celebrate my first full day in Nairobi we decide to have a goat feast (graciously funded by Auntie Janet, as the boys call her). Now goat buying isn’t a simple exercise. Daniel and I head up to Kiserian, a small community not far from Emmanuel Center were the very edge of Nairobi’s suburbs reach Masi-land. The market is a dusty square filled with the smell of animals and garbage. Masi women, with shaven heads and dozens of beaded necklaces around their long necks, sit on the edges selling tea and snacks. Within 30 seconds of stepping out of the vehicle Daniel and are surrounded by Masi goat sellers and young men wearing whites coats stained with blood (the goat butchers). Each seller is dragging a goat by the ear, horn or hoof. The sellers stretch the poor beasts’ gums to show us their teeth and pinch the fleshy stomachs. Bartering begins with each seller pressing closer and closer to us until Daniel and one seller are leaning over a very large goat, whispering in each others ears. They break away from the group for final negotiations, leaving me surrounded by men with ear lobes stretched to their shoulders. Everyone is staring at the strange white woman (me).
The goat sale is finalized and the rejected animals are dragged towards other potential customers. Our goat is carried mercilessly to the slaughter house. As Daniel and I follow, I ask about the sticks many people are chewing on. Daniel explains the Matasi sticks are a natural toothbrush and buys us each one. We scrape off the bark and chew the end till it is frayed. As I rub the end of the stick on my gums (something in it gives of a sort of tingling feeling) I remember how all the travel books warn against eating unwashed fruit – I wonder if chewing on strange sticks is equally dangerous.
I almost gag as we enter the slaughter house. Cow and goat carcasses hang from the ceiling. The floor is sticky with congealed blood. Young men are pulling the innards out of the animals and others are hacking them into pieces for roasting.
Within 30 minutes we have our goat (now in roasting size pieces) and head back to Emmanuel Center. At the center we are welcomed by many happy boys. Meat is a special treat as, like most Kenyans, their diet generally consists of maize, beans, lentils, rice and vegetables. (Though the Emmanuel boys do like to brag to their classmates that they get to eat three whole meals a day!)

As the goat roasts I sit in the shade and watch the boys play football. I watch one 12 year old boy running and laughing, and I remember meeting him on the streets three years ago. In those days he had the same big smile, but was sickly, filthy and addicted to glue. We brought him to the center and he ran away at least three times, unable to beat his addiction. When Daniel finally told him it was his last chance, somehow he found the strength to endure the withdrawal symptoms (migraines, chills, nausea…) of glue, and he never went back to the streets again. Instead he started school and amazed us all with his ability to make up rap songs on the spot.
It’s hard to imagine that the child I’m watching laughing and playing lived on the streets for four years, fought addictions and overcame abuse. His smile is too wide and his laugh is too loud. He is too good at football!
I think about all the fundraisers that have been held for these children, all the hard work that goes into running Emmanuel Center, all the remarkable people that give so generously in time, money and love- and I see that it is 100 percent worth it. This is what we do it for.
Before I have time to get teary-eyed remember how far Emmanuel Center has come, a plate of rice and matumbo is put in front of me. Matumbo is stewed goat intestines! I take a deep breath, and remember that before I reverted to being a soft Canadian, I used to like this special treat. I slowly chew a small rubbery piece and think that if my stomach survives his first day in Kenya I will be alright!

Every day is....

… hectic - at least for the next week. I’m saying goodbye to my fabulous and inspiring colleagues at the BC Persons With AIDS Society, packing up my sweet studio suite off Commercial Drive in Vancouver, and trying to find a place to live in Nairobi. There is also all the random Rotary Peace Fellow paper work to be done before I leave for a country with unreliable internet connections and a useless mail service. This blog is one more item I am happy to check off on my ‘to do’ list. The idea is to keep family and friends informed without bombarding them with epic mass emails. If you’re reading this it is likely because I sent you the link. Thanks for clicking through! I promise it will get more exciting once I get to Emmanuel Center and can keep you up to date on the ins and outs of working with street kids in one of the world’s most hectic cities. In the meantime I’m focusing on the journey, not the destination. Stay tuned and be at peace.