Kenya. June 15th - 16th. The Beginning.

It began like any holiday; the excitement and the expectation of what was ahead. Although there was a tangible sense that this would be different. I was in a group of strangers and so my opening days mainly focused on trying to get to know everyone. Something which may added or taken away from experience, that I am not sure. It may have numbed my original experiences as it all felt a bit dreamlike. Although this probably would have been the case anyway.The first night and morning in Kenya had a happy 'any ol' holiday' feel to it. But this quickly disappeared with a shock when we experienced Kenya outside of our safe little bubble. We witnessed an outrageous world usually hidden from our western eyes and minds. The largest slum in the world is Kibera in Nairobi. It is home to anywhere between a quarter of a million and well over a million. They don't know. It is humans living in their own filth. Sewage runs down the streets and hungry animals feed on top of piles of waste.I had heard about slums before and I had tried to picture them in my mind. But no image I could ever create would come close to the truth.

First we saw it from above, miles of corrugated roofs. Up above Kibera we were met by a group of young kids swimming in what could only be described as a swamp pond. These kids waved, screamed, shouted and gave us the middle finger. Quite a collection of greetings! Some of the younger kids gave us the index finger in an attempt at the international sign. This mix continued throughout Kibera as we drove through. Some people waved in joy, while others swore and shouted at us. Others just stared in contempt. Apparently, due to the recent filming of 'The Constant Gardener' and several television shows in Kibera, it has become a popular route for the tour buses. This, understandably, has led to some unease. These people don't like being gawked at like attractions at a zoo. In the past, smaller groups of Mzungu (Swahili for westerner or white person, what everyone calls you there) had been allowed to walk the streets of Kibera. However, to do this they would need about four Kenyans to every Mzungu. In a big group of 38 people, this wasn't possible. We were, however, able to visit the health clinic in Kibera which was supported by Moving Mountains. Although there was reservation on most peoples part, I felt strangely safe walking in Kibera. But I also felt the stares. I have never been so self-conscious of skin colour. It certainly makes you reconsider ideas and behaviours that are common in Ireland.

Even stranger was the fact that two minutes down the road we were surrounded by Land Rover and Mercedes car dealerships and high rise buildings. The contrast of lifestyles and wealth in Kenya, like many African countries, is extreme.One image, which for me, shows this contrast perfectly was of a man sitting in his Mercedes Benz in the middle of Kibera getting it washed by locals. Unbelievable perhaps, but true.

The experience in Kibera stayed with everyone that day. Although no one really talked about it, the atmosphere was noticeably subdued. Luckily for the morale of the group, we were quickly bused off to an exhibition match for the blackcats male and female teams. The blackcats are football teams that have been set up all over Kenya. There are supported by Moving Mountains (the charity we were working with) and consist of street children being given a second chance. They recently lost their manager and were playing these matches as a celebration of his life. I, maybe stupidly, assumed that the funeral had already taken place. But no! Over a week later the funeral took place near where we were staying at the time. It was an open casket, a goat was sacrificed, and there were drums, singing and dancing all night. I found this odd in such a hot country, leaving the body so long before burial.

But then again there are many customs which we cannot begin to understand. For instance, one custom which was still in practice in western Kenya, the area we lived and worked for the majority of the stay, stated that if a widow had not remarried by the time she died she had to be wed to a man after her death and the marriage had to be consummated. An idea that is found revolting in the western world, but we cannot attempt to understand these things.

Kenya. June 17th - 18th 2007.

The day that we finally reached western Kenya, where the orphanage and where we lived for the next week, was an eventful yet uneventful one. We spent a good 15 or 16 hours on the bus/truck. We left Nairobi at 8 o'clock in the morning in the expectation of reaching Ulamba orphanage by five or half five. But Kenyan time struck once again and we didn't reach Ulamba until about one or two in the morning! In fairness, the fact we reached the orphanage at all was quite an achievement after the bus broke down a series of times. Turns out that the bolts of one of the back wheels fell out and the axle was about to give away! So while some of the guys patrolled the perimeter of the bus with machettes, the other guys put the bus back together again with, and I'm not over-exaggerating here, some rope and sticks!! The rest of us waited patiently with apprehension starting to creep in...luckily though after about seven more breakdowns we managed to do a shuttle bus to the orphanage. When we finally got there we were introduced to Mama Rose, a living saint if I've ever met one. She is the boss of the orphanage, she is the kids mother, the workers' boss. Like any good boss or parent, Mama Rose is well respected. You do as she says, but you always know that you could turn to her for help. The children at Ulamba are extremely fortunate to have her. She is a woman who is in control, respected and yet she is always ready to crack into a smile and share a laugh.

We set up our homes for the next week, in the dark. Which unfortunately resulted in us living on a slope and with Mt. Kenya as part of the furniture to keep Maria company for a week!The morning light showed us what a beautiful place Ulamba orphanage was, with no electricity and no heating, it had a distinctly homely feel to it. Painted brightly and with a giant mural welcoming all to Ulamba Orphanage and declaring the important message of "don't leave school to work".

At the entrance were large gates with a security man at its side, nearby there was a water pump which gave water to the orphanage and to the surrounding community. People would walk for miles to come and use this pump. By the main building a single tree stood, surrounded by handy-made benches and small blue children chairs. Behind this, there was a large green area filled with tents and a worn grass path down to what appeared to be a row of small sheds. But the smell informed you otherwise before you came close enough to know....yes, the longdrops!!An unexpected feeling came over me everytime I entered the gates of Ulamba, I felt strangely at home. Sitting in the dark at night I did not miss electricity, or television, or anything. None of that mattered there. I didn't even miss standing under a hot shower. The cement cubicle, with a black bin-liner door and a bucket of cool water suited me fine.Mama Rose had opened up her orphanage to forty Mzugu and made us feel welcome.

This welcome continued onto the first morning at Wagwer school. Simply a line of mud-huts with corrugated tin roofs, holes in the walls acted as windowsand doorways, and Jigger-filled clay classrooms. Maybe I should explain, Jiggers are insects which bore into the foot and lay eggs. In a school populated by children with no shoes, understandably they were a major problem. There was not a desk in sight in some of the classrooms and only a single bench in others. The lucky ones only had to fit three ten year olds into one seat. An undeserved feeling of extreme importance hit me as the children fell over themselves in an attempt to touch this strange white skin. A faviourite game of the children during my time at Wagwer was to rub my hands, pinch my skin and arms, or simply to touch my hand and giggle shyly. It was quite interesting watching the kids reaction to my pale skin and their examination of it, trying to find the hidden dark layer of skin. Surrounded by little kids in tattered uniforms and no shoes, poking and prodding.

After the shock of seeing the absolute state of the school and feeling the warm reception and the utter respect given to us, some people gave away to tears. We were all trying to understand how these fantastic kids can continue to be so eager to learn in such conditions. The ever-smiling faces of these kids gave us all the overwhelming need to make a change, a difference.

Thankfully it was time for the hard labour to start. We were all glad of the chance to put the head down, to not have to talk to anyone, and to take the anger and frustration of what we had just been shown using physical exertion. Well it worked!! That first day, the sixteen of us that were there moved over, an estimated, eight tonnes of clay using only our shovels, buckets and will-power. Yet it was only a start. Thankfully the need for that work the first day impressed the local workers there. Apparently, the men had never seen such a hard-working and determined group of Mzungu. This, and particulary the fact that thirty-three of the thirty-eight Mzungu were women, shocked and impressed the Kenyan workers.Here were women working just as hard as the men and doing just as good a job as the men. I had several of the men exclaim at me in suprise, "You work very hard, but you are a woman!" In a country where women are still second class citizens, and only permitted to carry out certain jobs, I hope that seeing this opened their eyes and particulary the eyes of the young girls which watched us work. It was a long tiring day, but it was only the first of many.

Kenya. 19th June.

The next day was my groups "day off" from Wagwer, thankfully, as we had all been woken at five in the morning to the sound of a clanging bell of some sort. This woke everyone in the campsite, mumbling could be heard from every tent. At first rumor spread that it was the neighbour getting his revenge due to the noise made the night before because of a snake. But later the truth came out that this bell rang every morning, it was in fact a wake up call for the kids. I think I would have rathered the revengeful neighbour, at least them we wouldn't be woken up every morning!

As our group wasn't going to Wagwer today, were brought to another nearby school called Naysidi. This school had been in a similar state to Wagwer school, until a group from non-other than Derry renovated it. The school looked really fantastic. They had desks, cement floors, proper windows and a nice paint finish. I was both pleased and surprised to see the principal was a woman. No doubt a rare thing in this area. Once again the reaction from the kids was ecstatic, everyone wanted to shake your hand. Also once again, we were invited to come and teach in the school. Unfortunately, this wasn't really possible as everyone who could teach were already taking regular classes at Wagwer.

After our tour around this school we took to the market place. A bustling place where any item wanted or unwanted could be found. The words 'feeling conspicuous' doesn't even come close to what it was like. Sellers almost salivated looking at us and our big wallets! We were shouted out from all sides. One fantastic thing which came from this experience was my introduction to sugar cane. It does take a little bit of getting used to, but its also slightly on the addictive side. It was the most sugar I got for two weeks! It was a beautiful start to a beautiful relationship....!From this market place we had to walk a good 40min walk to wagwer. Along this way we passed yet another school. As soon as we passed all the kids ran towards us, sticking their hands through the fence. Two Kenyan nuns who we'd just been chatting to, walked up to the kids. They turned and said to us, "They say they have never seen these orange people before". These kids had never seen white people before, we must have looked like freaks to them. Whats more is that they called us orange, nobody was even wearing fake tan! It must have been the dirt!


When we reached Wagwer we worked for a few hours before heading off to another orphanage, just a few miles from Ulamba orphanage. We had been told about this other orphanage before, Alana, because Moving Mountains had planned to support it until they discovered that the Reverend who runs it is corrupt. The difference between the two was remarkable. Alana was very small and dull with a creepy feeling about the place. Even more noticeable was the difference between the children. The children only smiled when we began to play with them. They found the simplest things entertaining. We had brought them balloons, bubbles and other toys with us. Every child wanted a balloon and to chase bubbles, and for two hours they had the full attention of someone. They laughed, played and had fun. But when we had to leave their smiles faded again and they looked lost. An over-whelming feeling of hopelessness overcame me. We had given these children some hope and joy for only two hours of their life. These were kids, who some of them looked like they had never smiled before in their lives. I couldn't help but feel, while looking at their vacant faces, that many of them had become totally detached from life, because it was easier. They had never even been given a chance, the world had given up on them, so they did too. Now here we all were, fresh, white and privileged showering attention on them just to take it all away again. Like two hours in their lives would ever make a difference. It was that evening that I decided that I had to come back again. I might not make a difference. But I'd try.


The trip to the orphanage had affected the group somewhat. There was a slightly dismayed look in peoples eyes. It was as if everything we'd seen so far had been pushed away from our consciousness, but this just brought everything flooding back in. That day is the day that I found most disturbing, particularly after talking to people who visited the same orphanage the very next day. Reports from these people were of fresh wounds on a three-year boys head that was not there the day before. The very sudden unsociable attitude and distressed cries of kids, who avoided everyone, but had been very pleasant the previous day. The corrupt reverend also decided to show up in his chauffeur-driven new land rover. Finally, the distinct lack of toys of which had been brought by us the previous day. All-in-all, I don't have many fond memories of that orphanage. It made me appreciate Mama Rose even more.


Thankfully, that evening the mood was lightened by some entertainment provided by both the Kenyans and the Irish. Some Céili dancing was in order on our behalf, while the Kenyans sang for us. Including the song which became the theme tune for our trip to Kenya. If you were ever to meet a Kenyan and you asked them to sing a song, no doubt this would be it. The infamous 'Jambo Jambo Bwana' song. We also learnt some Kenyan dances and games. It was a much needed relaxation time enjoyed by all.

Kenya. 20th - 23rd June.

The next few days consisted mainly of just working at Wagwer everyday. However, of course there were a few highlights as well. One of the nights we went out to a bar in an area a few miles away. There was a live band playing and a buzz in the group. Although, to make sure that we were safe, armed security had to be hired in to patrol the area while we partied! A strange exp
erience, but overall an enjoyable one, despite being totally ripped off by the barman and the tiny waiter. Also, I was approached while standing at the bar many times and asked to buy a drink for complete strangers! The real highlight for many people was the fact that there was a western toilet out the back. And although it stank and it leaked, it was in constant demand throughout the night! The night out was much needed and we all willingly, although with heavy heads, returned to Wagwer for another days work.

By this stage we had been at Wagwer for four days and so the children were beginning to get to know us. They had become fond of us and us of them. We had spontaneous dancing and singing sessions at the back of the school. There were long-jump and limbo competitions. The children were constantly ready to burst into song and dance, a simple request was all the encouragement they needed to entertain. They would sing religious songs, a song about tea which I was quite fond of and of course, they sang 'Jambo, Jambo Bwana'. One song which really took off and was adopted by all the kids was the theme to bewitched, the tv show. This started simply on a trip to the well, a 30 minute return journey in which kids half your size carry twice as much! Humming the tune to myself, a few more people joined in and before I knew it all the kids are running along side us singing along and banging buckets together like drums. From there on in, everytime they saw me they would start singing it...but this wasn't the only thing the children took to heart. They learnt to sing olé olé, they would shout "up ya boy-o" and I even taught them to say "up mayo"!!A new craze hit the group half-way through our trip, hair braids. Nearly all the girls got their hair braided by two of the orphanage workers for what was in Kenyan terms an outrageous price. But quite cheap by Irish standards, and at least the money was going to some use, rather than just being spent on drink! We did all look quite funny with our braids, but sure when in Rome!Our second last night in Wagwer was quite an event as it was Andy's birthday. He's one of the founders of Moving Mountains and a Belfast man. We had a surprise party for him in Ulamba orphanage, the party then moved on to the same bar we were at the night before. Unfortunately, us Mzungu weren't permitted to go, the leaders pulled rank and so an early night was in order. So much for the party!We fell asleep in the open once again, knowing tomorrow would be an important one.

Kenya. 25th June.

Before we even realised, our last day at Wagwer had arrived. We had reached our target and although it cost a few extra days, nobody minded. We had all come for one reason and it was almost complete. But first a bit of spiritual guidance, Kenyan style. That's right, we headed to mass. We were told to expect anything up to two hours, but none of us were prepared for the three hours of singing, arm waving, preaching and praying. Many of us, including myself, were there on a more observer than participant basis. And there was, oh so much to observe! As guests of honour, and typically late, the mass had waited for us. So it commenced, an entire band of singers with drums and small children as dancers circled the church several times before dancing up the main aisle. The opening song alone took about ten minutes. All very interesting indeed, except for the three long sermons all in Swahili. I got at least a half hour nap during the first one. But thankfully, well after too long, we were on our way back to Wagwer for the last time ever.

Our last day at Wagwer was an emotional one. All the kids and their parents

had come in on a Sunday to give us a right farewell. The whole thing was a surprise to me, I didn't expect such a gesture. Firstly, we were served a special dinner, made by all the local women. This included some surprisingly tasty fish heads and some not appetising chicken heads. The rest of the chicken was nice though! Then we all gathered as the kids put on a special show for us and of course, in return we called on old trusty Gavin to give us a dance. I'm not sure the Kenyans really knew what to make of this strange Irish dancing. When all the singing and dancing was done, we heard speeches from all the appropriate people before a gift giving ceremony commenced. Everyone who took part in the building was presented with a gift, both Irish and Kenyan. Most of us students got a hand woven colourful hat and a sweeping brush, made of straw. All the gifts had been hand crafted by the local people. Truly magical. After all of this effort from the locals,I couldn't help but to become quite sentimental about my time in Kenya. Suddenly, when faced with saying goodbye to all the children, the trip just seemed too short. In a typically Kenyan fashion, we finished our time in Wagwer with a football game, Irish vs. Kenyans. But of course, they won! The bus arrived and just like that it was all over and time to return to Ulamba for the last time.

Our last night in Ulamba orphanage was also quite an event. We had a massive bonfire and for the last time we all took part in Kenyan songs, dances and games. It was the last time for many things that night, but also for the first for many things. That night it rained for the first time since we arrived in Kenya. But in Kenya it doesn't just rain, it RAINS!! We all awoke that morning to leaking tents, wet clothes and dampened hearts. It was unfortunate that our last morning in Ulamba couldn't just been about that. But we packed up our wet bags and flooded tents, said goodbye to everyone and everything and headed off on the next part of our adventure.

Kenya. 25th - 26th June.

We faced another full day of travel that day, but luckily it was only about 10 hours on the road. When we reached our new campsite, it seemed like luxury. There was a shower, a western toilet, and a bar! Once again we built a bonfire, but this time for a more practical reason; to dry all our wet clothes. Quite a sight, everyone standing around holding out their knickers to dry! As expected, many a drink was bought at the bar and hence, a singsong around the campfire soon started! But as if the weather was waiting for us, as soon as we headed to bed it started raining, yet again. Our tents defences, weakened from the night before, gave away easily and once again we were flooded. So at one o'clock in the morning, several tents had given away, one even collapsing. Those of us who were forced out of our tents one way or another, set up small mountain tents while others climbed onto the bus for the night. Unfortunately, the tents were pitched near or even on an ant hill, and thus they were absolutely infested with them, which led to a very itchy nights sleep.

The next morning, because we were on safari, started extra early. But we didn't let that dampen our spirits, as we had a long eventful day of safari. Luckily for us, the rain only seemed interested at falling at night, so our sights for safari weren't ruined. We saw thousands, well hundreds at least, of buffalo, gazelle and zebras. We also were lucky enough to see monkeys, baboons, hyena, lions and a white rhino. Which as you may know are endangered and are rarely seen. But all that is good and well, but no day in Kenya would be complete without a bit of excitement. Many of us had been expecting it from the first moment on the bus, but we had been lulled into a false sense of security. But halfway during the day, luckily it was about lunchtime that the bus tipped onto a permanent 45degree angle. Thankfully, no one was standing up at the time because it could have been a lot worse. So there we all were, standing in the middle of a safari park, 43 miles to civilisation surrounded by buffalo, zebra and plenty of monkeys. We managed to find an army area, where they let us wait and have some lunch sitting beside some zebras.

When the bus got back on all four wheels, we headed off again, slightly more on the jumpy side. The slightest bumb in the road resulted in a sharp intake of breath and a lot of white knuckles gripping anything near. This was particularly noticeable when we started on a road up to a mountain viewpoint. Still shaking from the belief that we were going to topple down a cliff, we clambered off the bus to be met with the most amazing view. Before us lay miles of desert, green forests, and a lake tinged with pink flamingos. After plenty of pictures we were back on our way to the campsite for another wet night. Thankfully this time we were a bit more prepared.

Kenya. 27th - 29th June, The Final Days.

A new day and a new adventure. We drove the few hours to Hell's Gate, an area which is much more heavenly in appearance than the name suggests. It is a world of its own, high volcanic rock and deep gorges which spout waterfalls and hot springs. This is where Tomb raider II was filmed apparently, and it did truly look like something straight out of the films. But it is too magnificent to be man made. I felt like a action hero as we climbed down waterfalls and shuffled along walls and through the rough terrain. Quite the adventure. But it wasn't over yet!

A new day did not just bring adventures but a new campsite also. This one happened to be beside a lake full of hippos, which we had the pleasure of seeing from rocking boats. We also saw pelicans and a bald eagle, indeed a stately figure. Lying in our small mountain tents listening to sounds of all the animals around us was quite an experience and I suddenly became acutely aware of what a short time we had left.We left early the next morning and we headed once more for Nairobi, stopping off briefly at the viewing point for the Rift Valley. But as always this wasn't enough excitement for the day. The small white bus, on which I was travelling at the time, got a flat. With no other wheels at our disposale we sat on the side of the road, on top of a mountain overlooking the Rift Valley while one of the Kenyans, Ken, hitched a lift from an army truck to the nearest petrol station. After about forty minutes watching a man cook maize on the side of the road,and chase cars to sell it, we were saved. Thankfully the green bus came back for us and we were reunited once again.

Eventually, we arrived back in Nairobi to a familiar place, where we'd spent our first two nights. It seemed suitable to finish as we had began. Here, we were greeted by the workers from Wagwer, a nice surprise. Even more surprising was how clean they were! After a week of seeing them in work clothes and covered in dirt, it seemed strange to see them dressed nicely. To finish our adventure off we had one last party. We ate at a fancy restaurant and then we headed to the pub next door to the campsite to party the night away. Just like that, before we even knew it, we were packing and making our way to the airport.There we all were, standing outside the airport, saying our goodbyes and promising to come again. Proudly wearing our Kenyan hats and with tears in our eyes, we stepped off Kenyan ground into the airport. The doors closed behind us.