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.